Chapter Fourteen
The next day dawned a bright and beautiful morning.
The sky was cloudless and the temperatures warming, as the hint of spring that had been in the air was now transforming into a kiss of summer.
It seemed that on a day like this that nothing could touch the languid atmosphere of the land, as if nothing had been amiss the night before, but that was certainly not the truth.
All one had to do was look to the great hall and see all of the wounded soldiers who had done battle against the mercenaries the night before.
Amata had decided to leave this morning and return home, considering she wasn’t needed and she no longer wanted to remain.
After the scuffle with Edie, she had retreated to her borrowed chamber.
She had no intention of helping out with the wounded, especially when it was made clear that she wasn’t wanted, so she went to bed and pulled the covers over her head.
Her selfish heart rendered her incapable of doing anything more.
Now, on this fine morning, she intended to go home and never return.
She had sent a servant for the soldiers she had brought with her from Silverdale, and the men had assembled her escort as the sun began to rise.
Amata sent another servant to bring her some food so she could eat before she headed home and rather than eat it in her borrowed chamber, she decided to stand in the bailey impatiently as her escort assembled.
She figured that if her soldiers saw her waiting, they might move faster, so it was her intention to rush them along as much as she could.
But as she stood in the dewy morning and chewed on the bread that she had been given, she could see the Doncaster soldiers moving about the bailey, men who had fought last night in the village skirmish.
In fact, there was a heavy smell of smoke in the air and she heard some of the soldiers say that the fire in the village was still smoldering.
She also heard them say that several of the mercenaries had been killed and those who had remained had realized that the tides were turning against them and fled into the darkness.
Nosy as she was, she wandered about in the bailey a little, chewing on her bread and listening to the men speak on the battle of the night before.
What she mostly heard was the men who had been there speaking to the men who had not been there, men who had been left behind in case the raid in the village had been a ruse.
There was much to tell on this fine morning.
As Amata finished her bread and pretended not to pay attention to what the soldiers were saying, she heard a great deal.
She had heard that the church had remained untouched, as had the northern part of the village.
She heard the men speak about the burned out southern section of the village and how the avenue of the smithies had been partially destroyed.
It seemed as if the village of Doncaster had taken a serious beating at the hands of the mercenaries, but the body count of dead mercenaries numbered into the forties and those bodies had been dragged over to the church until something could be done with them.
For now, however, the village was quiet and she heard someone mention that they were trying to resume a sense of normalcy on this very morning.
All of the talk about the village made Amata very curious to see it.
In fact, Amata had friends in the village, the same girls who scorned and ostracized Dacia.
Amata was understandably concerned for her friends and decided to pass through the town before heading home to see how bad the damage really was.
One of her oldest friends was the daughter of the richest merchant in town, a young woman by the name of Eloise Saffron.
She hadn’t seen Eloise in quite some time, so she thought today might be a good time to see how her friend was faring after the terrifying night.
It was also quite possible that she was looking for a friendly face, considering she found none of that here at Edenthorpe.
Her escort, spurred on by the sight of their lady pacing around, was ready by the time she finished her bread.
She was ready to depart without a word of farewell to anyone and, soon enough, her escort was riding through the gates.
Usually, her escort turned south before they reached the gates into Doncaster village but, this time, her escort continued on and entered the berg.
Immediately, Amata could see the damage from the raiders because the avenue of the smithies was directly in front of her, and she could see the damaged and half-burned stalls.
The smell of smoke was heavier here and, to the south, she could see plumes of dark smoke still rising, evidence of the fire started last night that continued to burn.
In truth, it was a little eerie to see the village so beaten down.
But she could also see that the soldiers had been correct – it looked to her as if the villagers were trying to resume some sense of normalcy and over on the street of the merchants, she could see a few people going about their business.
Eloise’s father had the biggest merchant stall on that avenue and Amata directed her escort to the Saffron stall.
She craned her neck to see if it was open and as they drew closer, she could see that the shutters were indeed open for business.
Her escort came to a halt just as Eloise herself exited the stall, shaking out a piece of fabric that seemed to be inordinately dusty or dirty.
“Eloise!” Amata called, waving her hand at the women. “Greetings, Eloise!”
Eloise Saffron looked over to the woman calling her name, smiling when she recognized Amata.
“Amata!” she cried happily, running over as Amata climbed from her carriage. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Amata hugged her friend, grateful to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t going to slap her. “I was at Edenthorpe last night and heard about the attack,” she said. “I came to see if you and your family had weathered the storm.”
Eloise’s smile faded. “It was terrible,” she said. “So much fighting and pillaging. My father’s stall didn’t suffer too much because he employs his own soldiers, so they were able to fight off those trying to do damage. But so many others were not so fortunate.”
Amata could believe that, given the damage around her. “And our friends?” she asked. “Beatrix and Ursula and Claudia?”
Eloise pointed down the avenue. “Beatrix and Ursula’s father suffered a great deal of damage,” she said. “You can see that his stall has been torn to shreds.”
“And Claudia?”
Eloise shrugged. “I do not know,” she said.
“I have not seen her, though I hear the metal workers’ stalls were all badly damaged.
Her father is a goldsmith, so I imagine he was one of the hardest hit.
I heard my father say that the attackers last night were stealing the most expensive things they could find. ”
Amata shook her head, clucking sadly. “What a terrible thing,” she said. “You must have been horribly frightened.”
Eloise nodded. “I was,” she said. “Thank God it is over. And you? You were at Edenthorpe last night?”
Amata averted her gaze. “I helped tend the wounded,” she said modestly. “You know that they depend on me for such things. I was overseeing the servants as they tended the wounded, but the more badly injured men were referred to me for my care. I did what I could.”
Eloise smiled. “Brave Amata,” she said. “You are always so willing to help and do good.”
Amata lowered her head, appropriately humble. “I do as God asks of me,” she said. “Except… oh, Eloise, it was simply awful!”
Eloise nodded. “I am certain that it was,” she said. “We are very grateful to the Doncaster army for riding to our aid. I saw knights, too. The fighting was very bad.”
In that moment, Amata saw her salvation.
The salvation to ease her humiliated soul.
She’d been doing this kind of thing for years, spreading lies while making herself look like an angel, which was why no young woman in the village would speak to Dacia.
They almost exclusively knew of Dacia through Amata’s lips.
But at this moment, Amata saw a perfect opportunity to punish her cousin for being bold enough to stand up to her. For stealing the man she wanted.
Aye, she saw the perfect opportunity.
This was where Dacia was going to pay.
“It was very bad,” she agreed. “But some of the knights were from King Edward’s stable. They were not Doncaster men. And that was why I had to leave Edenthorpe – I am banished, Eloise. Banished by my own cousin.”
Eloise’s brow furrowed. “By Dacia?” she said, incredulous. “What has that terrible girl done to you now?”
It was the sympathetic ear Amata had hoped for. “One of those knights you saw fighting last night,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “This great knight is one of Edward’s knights and he had eyes only for me, but my wicked cousin seduced him.”
Eloise’s eyes widened. “Seduced him?” she gasped. “You mean…?”
Amata nodded firmly. “They kissed right in front of me,” she said.
“Or, I should say, Dacia kissed him. And you know Dacia – she spends all of her time seducing her grandfather’s soldiers.
She has had more men between her legs that I care to count, all the while telling her grandfather that I am the wicked one.
But this knight belonged to me and she knew it, yet she stole him from me anyway.
Last night, I saw them retreat into the keep – together! ”
Eloise’s mouth opened in astonishment. “Did they –?”
“Of course they did,” Amata said. “He bedded her and that is what she wanted. She did it to steal him away from me. So this morning, I fled. I will never go back to that terrible place where my terrible cousin does such immoral things.”
Eloise patted Amata’s shoulder in sympathy. “Poor Amata,” she said. “Your cousin is despicable in her behavior. If I ever see her again, I shall tell her so!”
It was the pity Amata had needed. She pretended to be quite heartbroken.
“The knight and I were talking of marriage, but not any longer,” she said.
“I would not be surprised if Dacia married the man. Little does he know what an awful person she is. Why… why, her own maid has told me such tales of her. Such tales! She told me that Dacia gave birth to a baby last year and buried it in the garden. A poor bastard baby!”
“Oh!” Eloise gasped, hand to her mouth. “Do the priests at St. George’s know this?”
Amata shook her head. “If they do, they will not speak of it,” she said. “The duke is a powerful man. He probably paid them to pray for Dacia’s black soul. So you mustn’t say a word, Eloise. Promise me.”
Eloise shook her head. “I will not, I promise,” she said, but it was a lie and they both knew it. “Poor Amata. Why not come inside and have some warmed wine? It has been a long time since we last saw one another and we can have a nice, long visit.”
Amata gladly followed Eloise inside, where the rear portion of the stall was the family home.
Eloise’s mother and grandmother were there, welcoming Amata graciously, and the four of them sat down to warmed wine and bread with cheese.
It was a lovely visit, but one in which Eloise forgot her promise and told her mother and grandmother about Dacia’s terrible behavior while Amata played the wounded cousin throughout the entire thing.
But inside, she was smiling.
It wasn’t long before that bit of gossip went flying around Doncaster, from ear to ear, finally reaching the priests at St. George’s. It was a morbidly glorious bit of rumor mongering, with Dacia of Doncaster at the center of it thanks to her liar of a cousin.
Dacia may have had the last slap, but Amata would have the last laugh.