Chapter Four #4
William’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. Quickly, he stood up.
“Continue your meal,” he said. “I… will return.”
He was moving across the floor before she could respond. At the table next to the hearth, Tristan and Addax were finishing up the meal that had been brought to them. Tristan happened to look up, catching a glimpse of William bearing down on them.
“You’re too late,” he said. “The food is gone. The wine is gone. My hands are warm again, so it is time we head back to Wrexham. Say farewell to your lady friend and we shall be on our way.”
William held up a hand. “Wait,” he said. “Pat, that woman over there has just told me something astonishing.”
“What is that?”
“Her name is Andromeda de Courcy and her father is Carr mac Murda.”
Tristan’s eyes widened just as William’s had. “She’s what?” he said, peering around William to see that filthy, poorly dressed woman as she stuffed her mouth with boiled mutton and gravy. “She told you that she’s mac Murda’s daughter?”
“She did.”
Tristan was caught off guard by the news. “But that’s impossible,” he said. “Mac Murda’s daughter lives in Ireland.”
“No longer, evidently.”
Tristan frowned, unwilling to believe this. “She must be lying,” he said. “That simply isn’t possible.”
“I do not believe he’s lying, Pat.”
“Then what in the hell is she doing here?”
William’s eyebrows lifted. “I asked her,” he said seriously.
“She told me that she was sent here with six soldiers, paid by de Courcy to escort her to Pembroke Castle, to her father. Evidently, the escorts ran off with the money and abandoned her at this place. She says she has been trying to earn money to pay for another escort to Pembroke.”
That made a little more sense to Tristan.
Perhaps it was indeed Carr’s daughter, come to visit her father after all these years, and she’d run into an unscrupulous escort.
That was quite shocking if it was the truth.
Given what Tristan knew about Carr’s daughter, she should be protected by an army at the very least. But here she was, alone…
Working as a serving wench.
Passing a shocked expression to Addax, who was equally surprised, Tristan stood up and brushed his hands off.
He was going to get to the bottom of this.
He made his way over to the table where Andromeda was sitting with William on his heels.
When Andromeda saw them both approaching, she appeared rather startled. Possibly frightened.
But she didn’t run.
Tristan walked up to her.
“My name is Sir Tristan de Royans,” he said. “I am the garrison commander at Wrexham Castle, but I also serve the Earl of Pembroke. William has informed me of what you told him. Carr mac Murda is your father?”
Andromeda nodded. “He is,” she said, some excitement in her voice for the first time. “Do you know him?”
Tristan nodded. “Indeed, I do,” he said. “He serves me at Wrexham Castle.”
The hope in her eyes faded. “Wrexham,” she repeated. “Sweet Mary… he’s not at Pembroke Castle?”
“Nay, my lady.”
“Is Wrexham far away? Farther than Pembroke?”
Tristan shook his head. “Nay, lady,” he said. “It is only a few hours’ ride to the north.”
The hope was back in her expression. Andromeda stood up, her manner both eager and nervous. “I will pay you everything I have if you will take me to him,” she said. “Please, my lord. I promise I will not be any trouble.”
Tristan could see that she was verging on tears, terrified he was going to deny her.
Simply by her reaction, he was coming to think that he’d been mistaken when he accused her of lying.
He was a fairly good judge of character, and of liars, and he simply didn’t sense that from her. All he sensed was desperation.
“That is not necessary, my lady,” he said. “It would be our pleasure to escort you to your father.”
Andromeda’s eyes widened as if she were shocked by his polite response.
Shocked that she suddenly wasn’t directionless and destitute.
She had a destination, a place to go, where her father was.
He would take care of her. She was shocked that the hell she had endured over the past year was evidently coming to an end.
Perhaps she shouldn’t trust these knights, but the man who called himself de Wolfe had saved her.
She’d seen enough lascivious men to know he didn’t seem the type, so perhaps it was really true. A year of turmoil and despair was over.
She was so desperate that she was willing to take the chance.
Tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she struggled desperately to stop them.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I cannot thank you enough, my lord, truly. I will gather my things and be ready to depart in just a moment.”
Tristan nodded, watching her scurry off, wiping the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. He shook his head with disbelief when she disappeared from sight.
“That is mac Murda’s daughter?” he muttered. “She looks as if she has been living in the gutter.”
William nodded. “I know,” he said. “She told me that she smeared herself with mud to discourage the customers with less-than-honorable intentions, so it seems to be a disguise of sorts.”
Tristan lifted his eyebrows. “God’s Bones, let’s hope so,” he said, turning back for their table.
“Go across to the livery and see if they have a palfrey we can borrow for her. If so, pay them a few coins for it. I do not want that filthy woman riding with me, and I doubt you do either, so get her a horse.”
William nodded, collecting his helm and gloves before heading out the rear of the tavern. Tristan took more of his time to collect his things as Addax stood up, belched, and began to fix his linen hood.
“So?” he said. “Is it mac Murda’s daughter?”
Tristan shrugged. “We shall find out soon enough,” he said. “The only one who can tell us for certain is mac Murda. She seems to think she is.”
“As you said, we shall find out soon enough.”
That was the truth. With nothing more to say about it, they replaced the equipment they’d taken off when they arrived, and Addax went to pay the tavern keep for the meal.
That left Tristan waiting for the lady, who appeared quickly with a small, torn satchel in her hand but nothing else.
No cloak or cover. Considering they were traveling in cold weather, she would quickly become chilled.
Tristan gestured at her.
“Where is your travelling attire, my lady?” he asked.
Andromeda looked down at herself, in the terribly fitting dress that she’d purchased off another wench. “This is all I have, my lord,” she said.
He frowned. “Where is your cloak?”
She appeared uncomfortable, averting her gaze. “As I told de Wolfe, the tavern keep saw fit to steal it from me one day when I was ill and could not work,” she said. “He told me it was compensation for not working.”
Tristan’s frown deepened before he looked off toward the kitchens, the last place he saw the tavern keep. “He did that, did he?” he asked.
Andromeda nodded. “He did, my lord.”
Tristan’s gaze moved back to her. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, wide-set and big. When she blinked, he could see a heavy fringe of dusky lashes. They were lovely eyes, to be truthful, but it was difficult to tell with the rest of her because she was covered with so much filth.
“And those clothes you are wearing,” he said. “Is that all you have?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“What happened to the clothing you brought from Ireland?”
She looked up at him again. “I never had any,” she said. “I left rather… quickly.”
“Why?”
She was starting to look uncomfortable again. “Because men were out to kill me,” she said. “I left in the middle of the night, with only the clothing I was wearing. I had nothing else.”
Tristan waggled his eyebrows, but it was a sympathetic expression.
He didn’t want to get into why men were out to kill her because, frankly, it was none of his business.
That was between the lady and Carr. If, indeed, Carr was her father.
He was starting to think so, however, because she had her father’s eye color, that very pale blue.
“Then is there anything we can procure for you before we reach Wrexham?” he asked. “Anything you need?”
She looked as if the question itself baffled her. She looked at her little satchel, at her clothing, and simply shrugged her shoulders. When their eyes met, she smiled weakly, and Tristan could see what a stupid question it was. The woman had nothing. She needed everything.
But the first thing she needed was her cloak.
Addax was heading back in their direction, having just paid the tavern keep for the meal, but Tristan stopped him.
“Wait,” he said, a hand on the man’s chest to prevent him from going any further. “I want you to return to the tavern keep and ask him to return the lady’s cloak. He evidently stole it from her by unethical means, so you will get it back. Put the fear of God into him if you must, but get it back.”
Addax’s dark eyebrows lifted as he looked between Tristan and the lady, but then he grinned, pleased at the prospect of scaring the devil out of the worthless tavern keeper.
Given his size and manner, Addax was perhaps one of the most intimidating men around, and he loved to display that.
Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he headed back to the kitchen.
Predictably, the cloak was returned in less than ten minutes, and shortly, they were on their way to Wrexham.
And to destiny.