The Unconventional Maiden. June Francis

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СКАЧАТЬ Gawain’s frown deepened. ‘She was wearing scarlet, so it seems likely that it was the woman of whom you caught a glimpse. Apparently she was tall for a female, so she could stand out in a crowd and be easily recognisable.’

      ‘I—I still don’t believe my father would entertain a woman alone in this tent,’ she said fiercely. ‘Maybe it was a man in disguise?’

      ‘I suppose that is possible,’ said Gawain slowly.

      ‘It’s also possible that it could have been just an opportunist thief who made the mistake of entering the tent, not realising Father was here.’ She seized on that idea because it was less frightening. ‘It could even have been an accident.’

      Gawain did not look convinced and she guessed that he thought she was deceiving herself. ‘You’ll have to go through your possessions to see if aught is missing,’ he said.

      Beth reached for the cross at her throat. ‘This was not taken.’

      He stared at the lovely column of her neck and felt an unexpected urge to press kisses on her white skin and was stunned that he could feel such thoughts at such a moment. He had a need to clear his throat before saying, ‘Whoever it was must be found. I have initiated a search, but the men are also seeking the youth that one saw enter this tent shortly before I did. They gave me your description,’ said Gawain tersely.

      ‘You—you mean they think I could be responsible?’ gasped Beth.

      ‘Hush, woman, keep your voice down,’ growled Gawain. ‘We do not want folk knowing that you dress up as a youth. I told them that he must have escaped by crawling beneath the back of the tent as soon as he heard me enter.’

      She sank on to a stool and chewed on her lip. ‘They will wonder why I did not see this youth and scream.’

      ‘Most likely they will believe that you returned while they were elsewhere. I asked another man to find a physician.’ He paused, ‘You’ll need to get rid of the male clothes you wore. Best give them to me to dispose of. Go, fetch them now.’

      Beth hesitated.

      He glowered at her. ‘Mistress Llewellyn, if you still have it in mind to continue with this charade, then forget it. You will never again don that costume while I am responsible for you.’

      Beth’s head shot up. ‘But I am not your responsibility.’

      Gawain hesitated, uncertain why he felt so reluctant to tell her that her father had made him her legal guardian. ‘Someone has to take care of you,’ he muttered.

      ‘I am able to bear the responsibility for myself,’ said Beth, squaring her shoulders.

      Gawain scrutinised her pale, tear-stained but proud face. ‘I would not dispute that you are an extremely capable young woman. Having said that, I deem the circumstances in which you find yourself in right now would prove difficult for anyone. You will need my help to deal with the rigmarole involved in a suspicious death. This will have to be reported to the proper authorities and I will need to hand over the weapon. If fortune is with us, then someone will recognise it.’

      They both looked towards the table where he had left the dagger wrapped in its cloth. It was not there! ‘The murderer must have come in and taken it whilst I was changing and you were outside!’ cried Beth.

      Gawain frowned. ‘They’d have to be invisible or hellish quick.’

      ‘Of—of course,’ stammered Beth. ‘Perhaps it is on the ground!’ She dropped to her knees and Gawain hunkered down beside her. They bumped heads, both winced and hastily drew back.

      ‘Did I hurt you?’ asked Gawain, reaching forwards and straightening her headdress.

      ‘N-n-no!’ She felt breathless. ‘Did I hurt you?’

      He smiled grimly. ‘I have a hard head.’

      ‘You’d need to have with all the fighting you do,’ she said, without thinking.

      ‘My fighting days are mostly over,’ he muttered, getting to his feet.

      ‘It must be here somewhere,’ she said, continuing to search whilst wondering what he meant by his words.

      ‘I’ll have the servants make a thorough search.’ He held a hand out to her and pulled her to her feet.

      Beth saw him wince. ‘What is it? Are you hurt?’

      ‘It is nothing!’ He was not about to explain that he was suffering for his foolish behaviour in accepting the challenge to wrestle earlier. Why did he feel this need to prove his manhood just because Mary had been seen with another man? Especially when he knew it could result in more than a few bruises and strained muscles? It was not the same sense of rightness and pride that had resulted in him resigning his position in Henry’s Gentlemen of the Spears, whose duty it was to look to the king’s safety on the field of battle, at court and on ceremonial occasions such as this one.

      ‘I don’t believe you,’ blurted Beth. ‘You are obviously in pain.’

      ‘It is nothing,’ he repeated through clenched teeth. ‘I will need to report your father’s murder to Cardinal Wolsey.’

      ‘No! Father—’ She paused to swallow the tightness in her throat. ‘He—he did not like Cardinal Wolsey,’ she added weakly. ‘Could you not investigate my father’s murder instead?’

      Gawain hesitated. ‘It wouldn’t be right. I could be a suspect.’

      ‘Why should you be?’ She was aware of a sense of unreality and felt sick, then added faintly, ‘I cannot believe this is all happening. It is as if I was taking part in a masque.’

      ‘You’re not about to swoon, are you?’ he asked, taking her arm and lowering her on to the stool, praying that she would soon recover her composure. ‘Come, you showed such strength earlier,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I did not mean that I really was a suspect. You can trust me.’

      ‘Then why say what you did? You might as well say I could be a suspect, too. I have much to gain by my father’s death,’ said Beth, shivering.

      He realised that what she said was true, but surely she would not have killed her own father? There came the sound of voices outside the tent. ‘Go into your sleeping quarters and remain silent,’ he hissed. ‘I’d rather you left this to me.’

      Beth hesitated, but then, still suffering from that sense of unreality, she decided she had to trust him and wasted no time in doing as he bid. She gathered together the clothes she had worn earlier and stuffed them inside her pallet of straw and lay down. She could hear the murmur of voices, but could not make out the words. She wished she could leave this tent now and never return. Yet somewhere outside lurked her father’s killer.

      Beth did not know how long she lay on her pallet, waiting for Sir Gawain to call her. It seemed an age before the voices trailed off and she heard him call her name. Then she rose and went out to him and saw that her father’s body had been removed. ‘Where have they taken him?’ she asked.

      ‘To the village church until he can buried in the morning,’ said Gawain.

      ‘So СКАЧАТЬ