Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (2 page)

Jack hopped up from his chair and circled around the table to the fireplace where Madeline sat cradling
their daughter
. “Do we have room for them?” he asked, trying to pay attention to two things at once, “Or should we plot out another
residential
street over by the cathedral? Here, let me take her.”

He switched from business to smiling at
his wife. His eyes lit up as he scooped his daughter into his arms.
The wriggling red-headed baby stopped fussing
almost at once
.
Jack beamed at her, completely in love.
Crispin watched
them
, warring between sentimental approval and concern. Madeline had been more pale than usual all winter, ever since Meg was born
.
Her health was not improving anywhere near as fast as Aubrey’s had when Wulfric was born, yet Madeline kept pushing herself to be a part of things.

“I think we should plot another street,” Tom
resumed
the conversation where they’d left off.
Jack leaned over and kissed Madeline’s forehead
before returning to the table with his daughter.
“The market has increased two and threefold in the last two years and every indication is that now that the weather is improving it will continue to increase.”

“Oy, bully for us then,” Jack
cooed
to
Meg
. She grinned and
gurgled
back at him.

Crispin frowned to cover the warmth in his chest. There was an apple that had fallen close to the tree. God help him if Wulfric developed an interest in the girl in a decade or so.

“Plotting a
new street is simple.
”
Crispin sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Increasing spending for the construction of new public buildings without the consent of the Council of Nobles is not.”

Tom frowned. “
Let me guess.
Matlock
is
causing trouble again?”

The ridiculous faces Jack was making at his daughter flattened.

“No,” Crispin answered. “His crony Lord Gerald of
Wyndham is though.”

“Lord Gerald is a pompous fo
ol.
”
Madeline joined the conversation, rising from her chair and walking towards the table, a hand on her back.

“Oy! You need to sit down
and rest
.” Jack arched an eyebrow at her in mock scolding
, echoing the concerns Crispin felt
.

“I’m fine.” She brushed off his concern. “Why is Lord Gerald blocking the construction of new buildings in Derby?”

“God only knows,” Jack muttered.

“He says it’s because it encourages peasants to settle in the city instead of becoming a part of a manor,” Crispin explained.

“Not like it matters to him.
”
Jack continued to frown and speak to Meg. “His manor is all the way out near Leek.”

“Which is why it’s clear that he’s lobbying on Matlock’s behalf.” Crispin frowned. He sighed and pushed his chair back, standing so that he could stretch his
legs
.

Tom rose as well. “Wouldn’t we rather have Lord Gerald
pestering us than Matlock?”

Crispin and Jack exchanged wary glances.

“My father hasn’t been seen in Derby since well before Christmas,” Madeline took up the explanation. “The only thing worse than having your enemy breathing down your back is having no idea where he is.”

“Good riddance,
I say!” Tom crossed his arms.

As much as he wanted to agree with Tom, he couldn’t afford to.
“
Matlock is important, but so are many other things. Right now we need to
concentrate on improving Derby City’s infrastructure. I think that we can safely-”

“My lord!” A page appeared in the open doorway. His young eyes were bright with excitement.

“Yes? What is it?”

“My lord, Lady Aubrey has just arrived at the castle and she has a man from London with her. She said to fetch you to the Great Hall as quick as I can.”

Crispin exchanged a glance with Jack. Jack’s eyes reflected the same sinking feeling the
page’s announcement gave him.

Crispin
sighed and started around the table for the door. Jack followed, Meg still in his arms
,
Madeline
catching up to
him. Tom met them all at the door. They marched through the halls to the main floor of the castle and on to the Great Hall together. The black-liveried servants they passed stopped and bowed to them, some even smiling
against protocol
.

Crispin’s concerns didn’t ease a bit when
they
entered the Great Hall to find Aubrey there, Wulfric standing with her holding her hand,
Joanna nearby,
and a
man he didn’t recognize. Wulfric broke away from Aubrey and scurried across the rushes towards him. Conscious of the overly domesticated picture they were presenting, he scooped Wulfric into his arms and held him as he went to face the man.

“Crispin, this is Sir Ethan Eversham
.
”
Aubrey
stepped closer to him
. “He’s come from London with an urgent message. King Richard has returned.”

Crispin’s reaction to his wife’s words matched the worry in Aubrey’s eyes. “Sir Ethan.” He nodded, unable to do more with his son in his arms. “
You are welcome at Derby Castle.
”
H
e
glossed over
the formalities, eager to get to the man’s message. “This is Lord John of Kedleridge, my bailiff, his wife, Lady Madeline, and Tom Tanner, Derby’s assistant bailiff.”

If Sir Ethan thought there was anything amiss in the leaders of Derbyshire greeting a representative from London with their
wives and their
young children in their arms he didn’t say anything or appear incredulous. “My lord.” He bowed low. “I have come on behalf of King Richard.”

“So I understand.” Crispin nodded.

“Your presence is required in London immediately, my lord. You are summoned to appear at court to make an account of
your position and activity in the last three years.”

Crispin’s stomach clenched
, but not in surprise
.
Word was that nobles from all over England were being called to account.
He would have been a fool to assume Prince John’s appointment would go unchallenged. He glanced to Wulfric. His young son looked back at him with
a frown that matched his own.

“How soon am I expected in London?” he asked Sir Ethan.

“Immediately,” Sir Ethan answered. His eyes shifted to Jack. “Lord John’s presence is required as well.”

Jack straightened, the flush on his cheeks betraying the anxiety that the announcement brought. “Summoned by the king
?
”
H
e tried to grin it off. “Didn’t think he even
knew
who I
was
.”

“He knows who you are, my lord
.
”
Sir Ethan nodded, deadly serious.

“King Richard knows who I am?” Jack swallowed. Madeline st
epped forward to hold his arm.

An awkward silence filled the large room. Crispin glanced up to meet Aubrey’s eyes. Through her worry he could already see her steeling herself for what they knew had to be done. The sight of her determination dissolved some of the tension roiling through his gut. He let out a breath and said, “We’ll leave tomorrow. Joanna, send word to Windale that we will be in London for a few weeks. Lewis can handle the manor until we get back.”

“Yes, my lord.” She curtsied and started out of the room. The fact that
the confident and unflappable
Joanna seemed out of sorts didn’t help the cold feeling of dread in Crispin’s stomach.

“
Tell Lewis that you’re coming with us,” Aubrey added.

Joanna stopped and turned back to her. “My lady?”

“I’ll need your help.”

Joanna
gaped as though she would protest. She closed her mouth
nodded
,
continuing
on her errand.

“I can ride out to Kedleridge and tell Simon,” Tom offered as the mood in the room switched from shock to purpose.

“Take Madeline back while you’re at it,” Jack charged him.

“Oh no you don’t, Jack Tanner,” Madeline argued, pink spots on her cheeks making her appear more feverish than forceful. “I’m going with you.”

“Oy!
I love you, MP, but you know your health has been
-”

“I’m not sitting home at Kedleridge when
you need me
,” she cut him off. “Especially not when we
have no idea where my father is.
I won’t give him the chance to make good on his promise to punish me for disobeying him.”

Crispin held Wulfric closer at the reminder of Matlock’s viciousness. Any man who could wish harm on his own child was a monster. He wouldn’t fight it if Madeline wanted to come with them.

Madeline crossed her arms and stared at
her husband
until he relented with a sigh.
“
Alri
ght, you can come,” Jack caved in.
“
But you will take it easy and get the rest you need, understand?”

“Yes, Jack.” She smiled. She was the only one smiling.

Crispin sent another glance between Aubrey and Wulfric in his arms. “It’s settled then. We leave for London tomorrow at first light.”

Dear Joanna,

We’ve reached Marseille at last. The journey was long and uncomfortable and I don’t think my backside will ever recover. Ethan is in good spirits though. He and Lord Geoffrey have been keeping each other and the others in our party entertained. I suspect
you and
Lady Aubrey would have a thing or two to say about the mischief her brother and Ethan are getting into. But some things even I don’t dare to put in writing, so we’ll let that pass.

Ethan would tan my hide if he knew I was telling you this, but he wept like a child on our first night away from Windale
, saying he never should have left
. He loves Windale with his whole heart and is consumed with guilt over leaving it. I assured him that he has nothing to worry about and that if all else fails you wil
l keep the manor saf
e
and be waiting with open arms when we return
. That seemed to cheer him up considerably.

We have met several knights on the road who have taken up King Richard’s cause. I think it’s been good for Ethan to be around others who share his convictions. There has been a positive feeling in the camps we have joined in the last month. One young knight, Sir Baldwin
of Winchester
, filled our imaginations with stories of the last crusade as told to him by his grandfather who fought with old King Louis over forty years ago. Those men fought so hard for the glory of God, to reclaim the Holy Land and reestablish a Christian kingdom there. Ethan’s eyes veritably shone with holy passion at the prospect of finishing the work that those men started.
I wish you could have seen him. He was so consumed with ardor to fight for the glory of G
od that he practically glowed.

Y
ou
demanded of
me before we left how I could bear to leave everything I know to rush towards the possibility of death in a foreign land. When I saw the burning determination to fight for the right in Ethan’s eyes, the courage to risk all for something higher, I knew. He is doing this for us, Joanna. He has taken up God’s and King Richard’s cause so that the love and peace of Christ can reign in this world. He believes so strongly, loves so devoutly, that I cannot help but be transported along with him. I would and will fol
low him to
the ends of the earth.
A
nd you, Joanna, I know
you will forgive him in time
.

Marseille is very hot but beautiful. It’s nothing at all like England or Derbyshire. The sea is stretching out before me, bluer and more immense than anything I’ve ever seen, as I write this. I will write more and tell you about it when we are settled. May God speed this letter and my love to you.

-Toby

London

The City of London boiled with activity. Carts and carriages filled the streets, clogging thoroughfares and frustrating traffic.
Buildings as high as three stories stood packed side by side, windows and doors open to commerce.
Hawkers and merchants shouted to the milling crowd of people who rushed along on one kind of business or another. Competing bands of musicians parked at opposing intersections, adding to the
din
, entertaining pas
sers
by, and accosting strangers for a few pennies. A few dismissals and rebuffs did nothing to discourage them. After
all, King Richard had returned.
T
he city was in a mood to celebrate.

The streets immediately surrounding The Tower
of London
were more crowded than the rest. With Richard in residence every noble in the country had flooded London to seek an audience with him. It was good for business. The inns along Thames Street and the surrounding area were bursting at the seams with
travelers.
Nobles in rich brocades battled for space with livestock being driven from the docks along the river to the markets of Cheapside and
with
country folk come to sell their crafts where they could charge a high price. The noise, smell, and motion of the place would overwhelm the senses of the country folk if they weren’t careful. London had a mind of its own and that mind was constantly buzzing.

It was the perfect place to forget and to be forgotten.

“Now there’s a sight that does my heart good,” David de Talemunt grinned and slapped his servant on the back. “Travelers mean weary heads in need of a bed, and that means even
the
more modest inns tucked around a corner will see plenty of patronage. Inns like mine.”

“Yes, sir,” hi
s servant agreed in a monotone.

“I’ve never seen so many fine carriages,” David went on, smiling and stroking his beard. “There’s no way
these local
stables will find places to put them all. What I wouldn’t give to have a scrap of open land nearby to rent out.”

“If you say so, sir.”

David laughed. It was a warm, open laugh, a laugh
he was known for. “Come on now
Dunkirke, where’s
your
sense of opportunity? Where’s your enthusiasm?”

The servant
,
Dunkirke
,
glanced from his master to the carriages inching by without answering. As far as he was concerned there wasn’t much to see. He crossed back towards the dock and hefted
another sack of grain onto his broad shoulder
to carry to his master’s
wagon
.
If he didn’t finish loading the
wagon
and get them on their way within the hour the street would be so clogged with travelers that they wouldn’t make it home before supper.

“Ah well.
”
David passed behind him, giving Dunkirke another pat on the back. “We can’t all be born to greatness I suppose. The nobility of some rests in their ability to serve.” He walked on to pay the merchant selling the grain.

A sharp lump caught in Dunkirke’s throat at his master’s words. He tossed the heavy sack into the back of the
wagon
with a grunt
, scrubbing a hand through his long, matted hair
.
There was no need to tell him those who served w
ere nobler than their masters.

He swallowed the lump and dragged his tired legs to fetch another sack.

“Oy! Watch where you’re goin’, mate!”

Dunkirke whipped his head towards the cry from the street. His eyes snapped wide. A carriage had been pushed off-kilter by a cart full of chickens in cages. He couldn’t see if they’d collided or not but they might as well have. The chicken-monger hopped dow
n from his cart and shouted
in a thick city accent at the driver of the carriage. The driver cowered against his seat
, white-faced and wide-eyed. It was the man who had stuck his head out the window of the carriage to shout that drew Dunkirke’s attention.

“What the bloody hell, mate
?
” the red-headed noble
barked
at the chicken-monger. He disappeared inside the carriage only to have the door crash open a moment later. The red-headed noble jumped out, a baby i
n his arms. Dunkirke blinked.

“You ever heard of drivin’? Only someone might want to teach you how before they let you
out
in public again
, mate
!” the noble shouted. His baby burst into wails. “Now look what you done!”

“Jack!”
A
woman leaned out of the carriage after him. She had dark hair and blue-green eyes that were narrowed in annoyance. “What do you think you’re doing? Get back here.”

“In a minute.” He brushed her off and rounded the carriage to march toe-to-toe with the chicken-monger. “Look you, get your bloody cart out of the way. We haven’t got time to waste. We’ve got an audience with King Richard waitin’ for us.”

“Yeah, you an half the rest of the country,” the chicken-monger growled back. He glared at Jack but hesitated to do anything, his glance shifting to the wailing baby in Jack’s arms.

“It’s alright, Meg
.
”
Jack comforted the baby, bouncing her in his arms then shifting her to rest her head against his shoulder. “Papa will take care of this wanker for you.”

“Jack!” A
nother deep shout sounded from the carriage behind the first one. A tall man with black hair and fury in his eyes kicked open the door of that carriage and jumped out. “Stop delaying.”

“It ain’t me, mate, it’s this wanker.”

A small boy
escaped from
the second carriage and dashed to pick up an apple that had fallen off a
stand by the side of the road.

“Wulfric!” the black-haired man snapped. “Put it down!”

The boy Wulfric clutched the apple he had rescued and frowned at
the noble
.

“I’ve got him, my lord.”

Dunkirke’s chest
constricted
at the sight of the woman who edged her way out of the second carriage. She chased after Wulfric and scooped him into her arms, taking the apple from him and handing it back to the vendor. Her blond hair shone as if the sun was
out
on that cloudy day, but her
face was pale and drawn
. The boy let out a scream of protest and flailed against her.

“Here, I’ll take him.
”
The
dark-haired woman stepped out of the first carriage with a sigh and crossed to take the writhing child. “Why don’t you ride with Jack and Madeline for a bit. We’re almost there anyhow. As soon as Jack gets this mess sorted out.”

Dunkirke pulled his gaze away from the blond to watch the confusion of the cart and the carriage untangling themselves. The black-haired man had joined Jack at the front of the small caravan, which seemed to be all the motivation the chicken-monger needed to clear his cart to the side.

“Oy, I am never leavin’ Derbyshire again, mate,” Jack said, glaring at the chicken-monger and his friend in turn. “
Never.
Summons by the crown or no summons by the crown.”

“With an
y luck we’ll never have to
,” the black-haired man
replied
. The two
returned
to their respective carriages. “It was a mistake to bring the women,” he muttered before Jack jumped back into the first carriage.

The blond woman was nowhere in sight when Dunkirke
went to look for her
. The black-haired man climbed inside
the second carriage
and slammed the door. With a little finagling the driver of the first carriage set it straight on its path and they rolled on. The streets returned to their normal bustle.

“Country folk,” David laughed
. Dunkirke flinched. He hadn’t heard his master walk up to his side. “They think they know everything. Then they meet London.” He sent Du
nkirke a knowing wink. “W
e’ll welcome them with open arms when they come to
The Stag Hunt
looking for a good meal at a fair price, won’t we.”

“Yes, sir,” Dunkirke
mumbled
. He stared at the two carriages that picked their way slowl
y down the busy street towards t
he Tower.

“
Well
,” David went on, “looks like you’ve loaded the last of it and I’ve paid. Time for us to fight the crowds ourselves and go home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dunkirke tore his eyes away from the carriages and followed his master to the front of the
wagon
. He helped the man into the seat then went to untie the horse’s reins from the post, carrying them back to David. He
paused to stare
down the street after the carriage
s. What were they doing here?

“Ready?” David prompted from the driver’s seat as the horses danced, jerking the cart backwards.

Dunkirke took a breath. It did nothing to steady him. The carriages turned the corner at the far end of the street. The t
ension in his chest tightened.

“Sir?”
H
e
winced at the impulse in his chest
. “Can you spare me for a few hours?”

“Spare you?” David blinked. “What for?”

“I….” He hesitated. His glance wandered back to the end of the road as if an answer might be there. “I just need a few hours.”

David’s laughter-lined eyes narrowed. “Everything alright, Dunkirke?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, sir. I just … need to see
to
something.”

David sighed, the kind sparkle returning to his eyes. “
Alright then. Go see what you need to see. Just be home before supper.”