Chapter Three #2
For the second time that day, Gage cracked a smile. “Wynter?” he said. “Of course I remember her. A lovely girl who probably grew into a beautiful woman. She was a funny little lass.”
Laurence grinned. “I seem to remember she liked to perform scenes from the bible.”
“God, those were awful.”
Laurence laughed softly. “I thought she had talent,” he said. “She was quite eloquent, even at a young age.”
Gage shook his head, thinking of the elegant girl with the dark red hair. “Strange,” he muttered. “I’ve not thought of her in years. Not since we left Septentrion. We were supposed to attend a feast in her honor, if you recall, but we left before the event.”
“I vaguely remember.”
Gage found himself pondering the young woman he’d been great friends with. “She was always quite attentive to me,” he said. “And I remember that she was quite smart. Educated, even. She could carry on an intelligent conversation better than most adults.”
Laurence looked at him. “She was very pretty,” he said. “Mayhap there was something more then?”
Gage shook his head quickly. “She was a child,” he said. “I am not in the habit of romancing children, even if they are bright and lovely. She was more like a little sister to me. I guess I hadn’t realized I’d even missed her until now. I hope she has turned out well.”
Laurence looked up ahead, seeing the first concentration of farms and cottages on the outskirts of Durham as they came into view. “I am certain she has fond memories of you, too,” he said. “She is probably married with five children by now.”
“Probably.”
The conversation died as they plodded along and, suddenly, several men on horseback zinged past them, heading up the road at a gallop.
Those were the scouts being sent out to find a place to set up camp for the night.
Azul returned to Gage and Laurence, telling them that Varro had given permission for them to seek out a tavern and secure rooms. Once the army settled down about a half-mile from Durham, Gage and Laurence set out just after sunset to seek out sleeping quarters.
The town hadn’t changed at all since the last time they’d seen it.
Durham Castle and Durham Cathedral still dominated the town as they always had, perched on a bend in the River Wear, and Gage felt a distinct sense of satisfaction upon seeing them.
It was something familiar, something comforting.
He had good memories of visiting Durham in years past. He and Laurence wouldn’t seek lodgings closer to the center of town where there were brothels and taverns that catered to a lower clientele, but rather on the outskirts where there were several manses, all built up like small fortresses, lining the riverbank.
The particular inn they were looking for was called The Rabbit Burrow.
It was a well-maintained inn that had been built between a couple of manses, an establishment that, oddly enough, belonged to the Bishops of Durham.
It was constructed of the same sandstone that the castle was built from, cut from the cliffs against the river.
It wasn’t particularly wide, but it was quite deep, with a large, long common room covering the ground floor and then several sleeping rooms on the first floor above it.
The rooms were clean and expensive, but they were also small, so Gage paid for four rooms. He also ordered a meal and sent Laurence back to the encampment to summon Varro and the knights who had accompanied them.
With Laurence heading out, Gage claimed his chamber and took a moment to himself, something that was very rare in his profession. Being with an army was a communal thing – living with men, sleeping in the same chambers or tents with them, so having a room to himself was a definite luxury.
One he realized that he sorely missed.
He had taken the chamber that backed up to the river and as he began to remove his tunic and mail, belts and weapons, he found himself looking over the River Wear as it meandered by the neat row of homes upon the bank.
He was back in the north of England and even though there was a comfort to that, there was also some anxiety.
It wasn’t as if he’d left under the best of circumstances, but he wasn’t anxious out of fear.
His anxiety seemed to stem from confusion more than anything – confusion because he missed it more than he’d let himself believe and confusion because he’d left many friends and family behind without a word.
He could only imagine what Boothe had told everyone about why he’d left, but he was certain he’d not come out well in those stories.
But there was a large part of him that didn’t care.
He’d been away for six years. He’d become a changed man in six years.
He became angry at himself for giving any thought to his confusion or anxiety because those were emotions for fools and he wasn’t a fool.
Standing at the window overlooking the river, he took a deep breath and focused on the man he was today, not the man he was six years ago.
The man he was today didn’t care what people thought – love or hate, it was all the same to him.
He’d found his place in the world as a powerful mercenary and he’d made his fortune at it.
He was still making his fortune at it, probably richer than his brother was by now.
He’d come to Northumberland with El Vibora’s army and when that task was done, he’d return to France or Spain, or wherever the army was needed.
Wherever The North Wind was needed.
Like that wind, he blew hard and cold, but he also blew wherever his profession took him. Perhaps he was home, but it wasn’t his home. He didn’t have a home and he didn’t want one. He’d found his life and men who respected him.
That was all that he needed.
Northumberland be damned.
Shimmying off the mail coat he wore, he was looking forward to a good meal and a soft bed. In his world, there wasn’t anything better than that.
Or so he thought.
*
“Psst… psst!”
Wynter heard the hissing in her ear. Startled, she put up a hand to brush at her ear, thinking it was a bug, but she ended up hitting someone in the face. Coming out of a dead sleep, she turned her head to see Spring hovering over her in the dark.
“Get up,” she whispered. “We are going out!”
Wynter looked at her sister in confusion. “Going where?”
Spring struck the flint and stone against the taper, sparking a soft golden glow that illuminated the chamber. “To the inn a few doors down,” she said. “The Rabbit Burrow. We saw it when we rode in today.”
Wynter was still confused. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Spring picked up a hand mirror on the table, holding it up in the candlelight so she could get a look at her hair.
“Wynnie, when do we ever have the chance to go somewhere to drink and eat and watch the interesting people come and go?” she said.
“Papa and Mama keep us sequestered in Ashleven as if we were prisoners chained to the galleys by the Romans. I want to go out and have some fun without our parents hanging over us.”
“So you want to go to an inn?”
“Aye!”
It began to become clear to Wynter what was happening. She became a little more lucid as she realized her sister wanted to go out and frolic in the middle of the night. “Are you mad?” she said. “Taverns and inns are no place for women, alone.”
Spring didn’t seem to think so. “It will be exciting,” she said. “Mayhap there will even be music. Even dancing!”
Wynter sighed heavily. “You have planned this all along, haven’t you?” she asked. “You were terribly quiet the entire journey here and even at supper, you hardly said a word. You were waiting until everyone was in bed to make your escape.”
Spring set the mirror down, looking at her sister rather confidently. “I’m going,” she said flatly. “Are you coming?”
“Of course not. And neither are you.”
“I am, too.”
“I’ll tell Mama.”
“If you do, I will make your life miserable,” Spring said, teeth clenched. “I will become the most terrible sister you’ve ever heard of and if I have a chance to betray you, I shall. I shall do it happily!”
Wynter knew she was serious and with someone as unpredictable as Spring, she could very well be as destructive as she threatened. She would more than likely go by herself out of sheer determination and end up in trouble out of sheer foolishness. Rolling her eyes, Wynter fell back on the bed.
“I am going back to sleep,” she muttered.
Spring wanted to go to the inn, but she didn’t want to go alone.
She was reckless but she drew the line at stupidity.
It wouldn’t be safe for her as a lone female and she knew it.
She also knew it wouldn’t be particularly safe with two unescorted women, but she had the false illusion that she and Wynter, together, would surely be untouched.
Wynter was tall and certainly not frail.
They would be able to enjoy food and music, just the two of them, unmolested. They could protect themselves.
… couldn’t they?
Spring refused to entertain the realities of the situation. The unfamiliar lure of a city after dark was too much for her.
“Get up,” she hissed, smacking Wynter’s foot. “Get up and come with me or I shall go alone!”
It was an empty threat, but she had to motivate her sister somehow.
As she banged around in the chamber, a chamber that thankfully only she and Wynter were sharing, she hunted down the rouge that she’d purchased in secret on a visit into Newcastle upon Tyne.
It had been a shopping trip with their mother, who had a fondness for spending coin, so when her mother was busy with Summer and Autumn, Spring had purchased several things her mother wouldn’t approve of.
If her mother only knew.