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  As he reached the main floor, Clara’s cries suddenly stopped. Immediately, he paused. Was she hurt?

  Nay, she was just realizing that the truth of her treachery was coming to light. Ahead of him, one of the young maids cried out something in English. Kenneth looked over into the kitchen to see her near a pot of boiling water while shaking her hand. She’d scalded herself. The old cook told her to plunge it into cold water. He swallowed. What would the village do without a midwife and healer?

  Slowly, he left the kitchens. In the corridor, he stopped again. What would Lady Ediva do? And her newborn son, the heir to Dunmow Keep? Sadly, ’twas far too common for babes to depart this world soon after birth, and a healthy howl at the start of life did not mean all was well and good for him.

  Kenneth glanced up the stairs that led to the solar. Both mother and babe needed Clara. But he’d read that warning. Clara could not be trusted.

  Immediately, several maids charged past him into the kitchen, calling for buckets of steaming water and herb satchels. Kenneth barely managed to jump out of their way in time. He glanced up to find Margaret reaching the bottom of the steps, not bothering to disguise the fearful look in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “Milady has collapsed,” she whispered tightly. “Where is Clara?”

  “In the dungeon.”

  “Dungeon! What on earth for?”

  “For past crimes. ’Tis of no concern to you.”

  “I only pray that you know what you’ve done, for surely as the sun rises, ’tis a dangerous business birthing without a midwife’s help, even after the main part’s done.” She sniffed and rushed back up the stairs.

  A few treads up, she turned. “I don’t know why you jailed her, but it had best be a good reason. ’Tis one command you’ll have to answer for!”

  Kenneth stiffened. No one had read the missive except him. Would they still censure him if they knew how dangerous Clara could be?

  He swallowed. Was she really that dangerous? She’d worked hard for Lady Ediva, stayed in that solar for more than a day, laboring with her mistress. He had seen no sign that she wished either mother or child to come to any harm.

  Nay, he would not risk Lady Ediva’s life! He plowed back into the bowels of the keep. There, he fumbled with the keys, hating how his hands had begun to shake as he struggled to unlock the door.

  Clara blinked at the sudden light. She stood in the center of the cell, her arms wrapped around her torso as if to keep at bay the filth and fear only the dungeon could create. Kenneth heard the scurry of some unseen creature behind her.

  “Milady has collapsed,” he grated out as he grabbed her upper arm. “I will take you to her, but be warned. If she dies, I will hold you personally responsible, for you’ve made poor decisions so far with new mothers and their babes.”

  As Kenneth dragged Clara through the keep, he heard her call over her shoulder, “I want the broth I ordered when her confinement began. Milady needs the strength in it!” She added to that order herbs, more hot water and water with spirits in it to cleanse the dungeon from her hands.

  “Aye, mistress, we have it all!” a young female voice answered.

  As if only then fully realizing the danger now happening, Clara broke free of Kenneth’s grip and bolted up the stairs.

  All Kenneth could do was race after her, a prayer on his lips.

  Chapter Two

  As soon as Kenneth learned that all was well with Lady Ediva and the new child, he approached Lord Adrien in his private chamber. The Baron of Dunmow had left his wife to sleep. “Milord, we need to speak.”

  Kenneth swallowed. He needed to confess his part in how Clara had disappeared so soon after Ediva had delivered, then suddenly reappeared when milady needed her help.

  “Hmm?” Distracted, Lord Adrien looked up from his mindless task. He held his oiling cloth in his shaking hand. ’Twas the job of that young squire, Harry, to oil and care for Lord Adrien’s chain mail, but Kenneth knew the baron took pride in keeping his own armor in order. Mayhap something to keep himself busy?

  The man looked tired, as if battle worn, and Kenneth set aside his confession for the time being. “Come, my lord. Let’s get you some refreshment. You have stayed up as long as Lady Ediva has. She’s resting, as you should be also.” Kenneth took charge and stepped out into the corridor to order Harry to provide some food and drink.

  Watching the young squire dash off, he could hear the sounds of supper preparation. ’Twas late in the day, and the evening meal had been delayed until word came down from the solar that mother and babe were safe from the dangers of delivery for the time being. Though his stomach growled, Kenneth ignored his hunger and returned to Adrien’s chamber. The pallet bed Adrien had used when he first arrived was shoved into one corner, its original space now occupied by a large desk and several chairs, a wardrobe and several trunks. Dropping his oiling cloth on the desk, Adrien leaned back heavily in his seat. The meal came, and Kenneth encouraged his baron to eat.

  Adrien looked up and blew out a sigh. “My thanks to you, Sergeant. Your quick actions saved Lady Ediva.”

  Kenneth straightened. “Nay,” he admitted tightly. “Clara saved her, milord. I merely retrieved her. I had—”

  Adrien carried on as if he hadn’t heard Kenneth. “Ediva was doing fine, smiling, feeding the babe, and suddenly, she paled and fell back onto the pillows. Our son nearly rolled off the bed when she went limp. Margaret caught him just in time. I don’t know what would have happened if Clara hadn’t returned so soon.” He straightened quickly. “She stepped out of the chamber after the delivery. Where did she go?”

  Kenneth swallowed. “I sent her to the jail below the stairs.”

  Lord Adrien’s brows shot up. “The dungeon? You threw her in the dungeon? What did she do wrong?”

  Kenneth pulled the missive from the pocket of his surcoat. Adrien took it. Standing, he read aloud,

  Dear brother, I greet you in the name of our Lord and pray for your health. My new and dear wife does well in her pregnancy and I enjoy each day with her. I hope Ediva is also fine.

  But this is not a social letter. Only today have I discovered the true reason for the offer of Clara, the midwife, to you, by my guild masters, when I asked for someone to replace yours. Though I had sensed Clara’s reluctance to leave Colchester, I assumed ’twas due to nervousness on her part. She was, after all, moving by herself to an unknown place to fill a position vacated by a death. Now I suspect she had no wish to leave but was given no other recourse by those in town.

  However, the reason the guild masters recommended her is enough for me to write this letter. It began last year when Taurin, Duke of Evreux, took a mistress, a destitute farm girl whom he purchased as a slave from her parents shortly after arriving in England, because his wife is barren. The slave girl conceived, and in her seventh month of pregnancy she fled Lord Taurin’s grasp. I am told that she made her way to Colchester. Clara took care of the woman and eventually assisted as she delivered a boy. The child was born two months ago. Clara kept the mother and child in her home.

  Shortly after the child was born, while I was in London at King William’s request, some of Lord Taurin’s men arrived here to search for the mother and son. They went to my sergeant at arms, who refused to assist them in their search, for they came without writ or summons. These men eventually approached the guild masters, who retrieved Clara, but by this time, she had hidden mother and child and refused to reveal where they were.

  After that, my sergeant forced Taurin’s troops to leave empty-handed.

  When I returned, your request for a midwife was waiting for me and I sought out the advice of the guild masters, who immediately offered Clara, so I sent her right away. You must understand that I had not yet been debriefed by my sergeant.

  Later, when Clara’s younger sister was discovered living alone in Clara’s old house, I investigated this matter more fully and discovered the real reason why the guild masters
had recommended Clara. Fearing Taurin himself would come to Colchester with more troops and the king’s summons, the guild masters sought to thrust their problem onto you and your village.

  I will deal with the guild masters and their trickery myself, but I cannot guarantee anyone’s safety should Lord Taurin come for his mistress. I can, however, warn you of Clara’s dangerous secret and stubborn character. I trust you will act wisely when dealing with her. She will bring only trouble for you and the people under your protection if she doesn’t reveal the mother and babe’s location.

  But, as you probably have realized now, dear brother, I am also sending you Clara’s younger sister. The guild masters suspect that this girl, Brindi, may know where the slave is hidden. I cannot say whether that is true—she refused to answer the question when it was put to her. Regardless, she cannot be allowed to live here alone, nor can she be returned to her aged mother.

  Be careful, Adrien. Taurin is not to be trifled with. He is as crafty as the guild masters here are. Be cautious dealing with him and with your midwife.

  Your brother in blood and in Christ,

  Eudo

  Adrien looked up at Kenneth. “Her sister is here? How old is this girl?”

  “She’s about ten years of age,” Kenneth answered as he folded his arms. “After Clara returned to Lady Ediva, I found her in the bailey and sent her to the kitchen. The cook can always use an extra set of hands, though I did not see the girl there later.”

  “Such trickery.” Adrien inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Should Lord Taurin arrive here, I want to be ready for him.”

  “Aye. And it sounds like the guild masters in Colchester would be quite happy to tell Lord Taurin where to look, especially since it would take him away from their town.”

  “True. They’re a devious lot.”

  Kenneth studied Lord Adrien. “Do you know Lord Taurin, milord?”

  “I know only of him. He did not fight at Hastings. Regardless, his family has enough influence with King William to earn him an estate without military service. His land is to the west, I believe.” He paused. “All this trouble over a runaway slave.”

  Who is too foolish to realize her child would be better off with his father, Kenneth thought. Lord Taurin had wealth from Normandy. Couldn’t the mother see that the father would be able to give his son far more than she could?

  Giving up the child may save her own life, too. And it would spare the town from Lord Taurin’s anger. Nay, for the sake of Dunmow, ’twould be best if the child was found and handed over to Taurin. Even a blind person could see this.

  Kenneth stood tall. “We need to find this girl and her child immediately,” he stated. “’Tis best for Dunmow if we hand the child over to Lord Taurin as soon as he arrives.” Adrien nodded his agreement. “But,” Kenneth continued, “what punishment should be laid upon the midwife who brought this trouble to us?”

  Adrien stood and rubbed his cheek. “As much as I would like to punish Clara for her secrecy, I cannot forget she has saved my wife’s life. I will address her deceit, but in my own time.”

  Of course. Kenneth suspected that Adrien would keep her handy until his wife and son were well out of danger. He couldn’t blame the man, for Adrien loved his wife with a powerful love that Kenneth secretly envied. Not for love’s sake, but for the peace and happiness such love gave his baron.

  “What are we to do with Clara in the meantime?”

  Adrien sighed. “As much as I am grateful to her for saving Ediva’s life, I won’t have the woman near my wife or child unless she’s absolutely needed. Escort her to her hut and watch her closely. Indeed, you must guard her well. Who knows what Lord Taurin will do should he find his way here. I won’t lose Dunmow’s only healer.”

  Adrien scrubbed his face with his hands, then rotated his arms as if to loosen stiff muscles. Kenneth frowned. Lord Adrien had pledged to Lady Ediva that he would keep all of the people in the keep and the village of Little Dunmow safe. He grimaced. That meant even Clara of Colchester, for all the trouble she’d brought.

  “I wonder where she’s hidden the pair,” Adrien finally mused.

  “We’ll find out soon enough. Clara will eventually reveal their location, either by accident or by traveling there herself. She’s been with Lady Ediva for days now, so she’ll want to check on them soon. Though not tonight, I suspect. She’s far too tired. But when she does, I will follow and bring the child here.” Kenneth steeled his spine. “’Twill be an easy task.”

  Adrien nodded. “Do whatever is necessary to keep everyone safe. ’Tis a dangerous time for Saxons who defy Norman law, and our king will not be discriminatory with his punishment if he takes Lord Taurin’s side.”

  Kenneth silently agreed. King William could easily provide Lord Taurin with a writ allowing him to do whatever he felt necessary with his slave girl and the babe—and take whatever degree of justice he saw fit against those who had hidden them, willingly or no. After all, wasn’t the king illegitimate himself, and hadn’t he earned his place in history by being recognized as his father’s heir? Aye, King William could easily mete out heavy punishment to many Saxons should they refuse to turn over the slave and her child.

  But hadn’t the king abolished slavery? Aye, but that wasn’t the issue. ’Twas not even the issue that Lord Taurin had purchased a slave in the first place. Nay, disobedience was the issue. “I’ll discover the location of the child, my lord. I promise.”

  Kenneth turned to leave, but Adrien stopped him. “Sergeant, be careful. We both know that Clara is a good healer, but should she learn what you plan to do, I doubt her thoughts will stay on healing. She appears to be full of guile.”

  “Indeed, milord, but I am no fool.” At the door, however, Kenneth hesitated. He’d fought at Hastings, defended his king and his baron with his life, and was not afraid of dying. But he knew Clara. He’d been sent to Colchester to deliver her here and had found her temper and disposition matched her fiery hair perfectly. Aye, fighting a woman whose scorn could sear meat would make the battle for England’s crown seem like a squabble between kittens.

  * * *

  Clara continued to work with Lady Ediva, encouraging her to take some strong broth and nettle tea. That done, she helped the babe to suckle properly.

  Ediva cringed. “I ache all over, Clara. He hurts me.”

  While Ediva’s tone was weak and petulant, Clara knew ’twas more from fatigue than personality. Ediva had already decided she wanted to feed her own babe and not hand him over to a nurse. “Aye,” Clara agreed softly. “He will until you get used to him, but ’tis just for a short time, and then you can rest. Remember how I said that ladies who refuse to nurse often waste away?”

  Ediva obeyed, and after, Clara showed Margaret how to rub some herbed oil on her mistress. Finally, all was cleaned up, and Clara tucked Lady Ediva into her bed for some much-needed rest. The wide-eyed boy lay swaddled in a cradle between the bed and the well-stoked brazier, a sealed skin of warm water set beside him to keep the chill at bay. Margaret dozed on her pallet at the far end of the room while Clara guarded them all. Her hand throbbed where she’d slammed it into the dungeon door, but the dim light of evening made it impossible to deal with.

  She was too agitated, anyway, her thoughts far away from her own pain. Rowena and her child were safe. The only other person who knew of their new location was her small sister, Brindi, whom she’d told before sending her home. Should Lord Taurin—

  A tear dropped down onto her lap as she rose. Nay, Brindi was safe and far away from Colchester. Clara had returned the girl to their aged mother, to their home near the seaside and away from the clutches of the guild masters who’d forced her out.

  She fisted her hands and the left one stung sharply. She’d acquired a splinter from the door to the dungeon, and now that she wasn’t busy, it throbbed. Forget it. She’d deal with it on the morrow when the light was better. The end of the day was fast approaching.

  Clara paced to the window, anxious for
some air to clear her mind. She quietly eased the vellum shutter from the window, wanting only a few breaths of fresh air before she blocked out the cool evening again.

  She leaned forward. Having abandoned her wimple and veil earlier, the light breeze brushed over her neck and through her thick hair. Glad for it, as her cyrtel clung to her and was in need of laundering, she stretched out as far out as she could manage.

  The window had a direct view of the village below, in particular, her small hut at the center. Her gaze automatically fell on it.

  In the darkening evening, a shadow passed in front of her home, someone thin and stealthy. A breath or two later, the door, set at the side of the hut, opened. Then, as Clara stared hard, a lamp was lit, spilling light onto the small herb garden for a brief moment before the door shut tight.

  She gasped. Someone was in her home.

  A sharp rap cut through her and she jumped. After a glance around the solar, and noting all was as it had been a moment before, she heard the knock again. Someone was at the door. Quickly, she set the vellum frame back into place and hurried to crack the door open a tiny bit.

  Kenneth stood at the threshold.

  “’Tis time for you to return to your hut,” he growled out softly.

  She stepped out into the corridor. “And not to the dungeon? Have I earned a reprieve somehow? Oh, mayhap you’ve come to your senses and realized I have done nothing wrong!”