The Maiden's Abduction. Juliet Landon

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СКАЧАТЬ the slice of silver in the distance had narrowed, darkening the sky still more in sympathy with her concerns.

      ‘Nearly there, Cecily. Hold on,’ came Isolde’s assurance.

      ‘Yes, love.’

      She had not expected the young swain to come chasing after them, nor did she believe that Isolde had cared one way or the other until she had come to realise what lay behind her father’s choice of Henry Fryde as her guardian, a choice that took the form of Henry Fryde’s twenty-three-year-old son Martin. Then, Isolde’s need for any form of rescue as long as it came quickly was justifiable: even the motherly Cecily had no quarrel with that. So, when two days ago young Bard had appeared behind them in the great minster at York during one of the Mercers’ Guild’s interminable thanksgiving ceremonies, the hand that had clutched hers had made her wince with the pain of it.

      ‘He’ll take us away from here, Cecily,’ Isolde had whispered to her that night, in bed.

      ‘Back home, you mean? He’d not—’

      ‘No, not back to my father. I’d not go back there now. You’ll never guess what he’s done. Bard told me today.’

      ‘Who’s done? Bard, or your father?’

      ‘My father. I think he’s taken leave of his senses,’ she added.

      ‘Why, what is it?’

      ‘Bard says he’s taken his sister.’

      Cecily frowned at that, unable to overcome the confusion. ‘Felicia?’ she ventured.

      ‘Yes, Bard’s younger sister, Felicia. Father’s taken her.’

      ‘Where to?’

      ‘Home. To live with him. He’s abducted her, Cecily. And do you know what I think?’ She was clearly set to tell her. ‘I think he intended it when he sent me here to York because he knows that Rider La Vallon will stop at nothing to get her back. No one’s ever done anything quite as extreme as that, have they? He must have known that if I were there, they’d do their utmost to get me. And heaven help me if they did. I’d be a mother by this time next year, would I not? All the same, I think it’s an over-reaction, taking a La Vallon woman just because Bard showed an interest in me. He’s old enough to be her father, after all.’

      ‘She’s twenty-one.’

      ‘Young enough to be his daughter, Cecily.’

      ‘Mmm, so you think going off with Bard La Vallon will make everything all right, do you? I don’t.’

      ‘No, dearest.’ In the dark, Isolde softened, kissing the ample cheek of her nurse and maid, the one who had helped her into the world and her mother out of it at the same time. ‘But it’s a chance to take control of my life, for a change, and I’ll not let it slip. He sent me here to be groomed for marriage to that lout downstairs. You know that, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes, that’s fairly obvious.’

      ‘And would you marry him, dearest?’

      The snorts of derision combined to render them both speechless for some time and, when they could draw breath, it was Isolde who found enough to speak. ‘Well, then, the alternative is to get out of this awful place just as soon as we can.’

      The question of ethics, however, was one which could not easily be put aside. Cecily manoeuvred her white-bonneted head on the pillow to see her companion by the light of the mean tallow candle. ‘But listen, love. That young scallywag was the reason your father sent you away in the first place, and you surely wouldn’t disobey your father so openly, would you? And what of Alderman Fryde? Think of the position it will put him in. After all, he’s responsible for you.’

      There was a silence during which Cecily hoped Isolde’s mind was veering towards filial duty, but the answer, when it came, proved determination rather than any wavering. ‘Alderman Fryde,’ Isolde said, quietly, ‘is one of the…no, the most objectionable men I’ve ever met. I would not marry his disgusting son if he owned the whole of York, nor shall I stay in this unhappy place a moment longer than I have to. Did you see Dame Margaret’s face this morning?’

      ‘Yes, I did.’

      ‘He’s been beating her again. The second time this week. I heard him.’

      ‘You shouldn’t have been listening, love.’

      ‘I didn’t have to listen. And that chaplain was smirking all over his chops, and I know for a fact that he’s been telling Master Fryde what I said to him in confession about Bard.’

      ‘No…oh, no! He couldn’t. Wouldn’t!’

      ‘He has, Cecily. I know it. He’s a troublemaker.’ There was another silence until Isolde continued. ‘Bard has a cousin at Scarborough.’

      ‘A likely story.’

      ‘I believe him. He says we’ll be able to stay there awhile and see the sea. He says they’ll be pleased to see us.’

      ‘The cousin is married?’

      ‘Yes, with a family. I cannot go home, Cecily dearest, you know that.’ She had heard disapproval in the flat voice, the refusal to share the excitement for its own sake. Cecily liked things cut and dried. ‘I cannot. Not with Bard’s sister a prisoner there and my father fearful for our safety. God knows what he’s doing with her,’ she whispered as an afterthought.

      ‘Never mind what he’s doing with her, child. What d’ye think young La Vallon’s doing with you? Has it not occurred to ye once that he’s come all this way to avenge his sister? I don’t know how your father can explain the taking of a man’s only daughter, even to prolong a feud, but allowing yourself to be stolen doesn’t make much sense either, does it? You were talking just now of him being fearful of your safety, but just wait till he finds out who you’re with, then he’ll fear for sure. As for being a mother within the year—’

      ‘Cecily!’ The pillow squeaked under the sudden movement.

      ‘Aye?’ The voice was solid, uncompromising.

      ‘We haven’t got that far. Nowhere near.’

      ‘No where near?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then that’s another thing he’ll have come for; to get a bit nearer.’

      Isolde’s smile came through her words as she nipped out the smoking candle. ‘Stop worrying,’ she said. ‘I’m nineteen, remember?’

      ‘And well in control, eh?’

      ‘Yes. Goodnight, dear one.’

      At last, Cecily smiled. ‘Night, love.’

      There had been no need to request Cecily’s help for there had never been a time of withholding it but, even so, it was to the accompaniment of the maid’s snores that Isolde’s thoughts raced towards the morrow with the city’s bells and the crier’s assurances that all was well.

      Apart from regretting СКАЧАТЬ