Please log in to recommend or discuss...
July 1300
Northern England
If there was one thing Lady Douglass de Clifford understood perfectly well, it was her mind.
However, being that she was the daughter of an English nobleman, she wasn’t allowed to assert herself or her desires. Case in point, her plot to escape was going to be thwarted if she attempted to implement it.
Escape also implied she was being held hostage, which wasn’t true. She was on this perilous, ill-fated journey with her aunt, her father and their loyal retainers. Baron de Clifford, her father, was a perfectly docile man, and perhaps she wasn’t being fair in her irritation with him. But saints above, she wanted to escape the fate he’d resigned her to. Or rather, their king had written in ink, sealed in wax and sent up to their holding in northern England from his royally safe place at court.
Douglass swatted a fly away from her face and then from her horse’s mane. The only good thing about traveling north was that summer’s insufferable heat grew less and less. The layers of underthings and her gown weren’t sticking as badly as they had yesterday. That said, she’d still rather be back home at Appleby Castle, lounging in the garden or riding her horse Cheval along the many wooded trails instead of the road north to her doom.
They were about to cross over Hadrian’s Wall—according to her father’s scout, who’d been riding ahead to make certain their path was clear.
It was a place she’d never seen before. The massive miles’ long wall was built by the Romans who had tried to capture their country hundreds of years before. If she were going to be forced north, at least she was bearing witness to a historical landmark she admired. Once, when she was much younger, her father had indulged her desire to see Stonehenge on their way to court in London. Of all the stone circles she’d seen that one had been her favorite and the most stunning.
Well, now was no time to reminisce. She needed to keep her immediate plans in the forefront of her mind.
Mayhap she could wait until they were all asleep and turn around and ride back to Appleby Castle. Then again, it was more likely in her hasty nighttime getaway that she’d be abducted by outlaws—or worse, raiding Scots.
Douglass shuddered at the thought.
Beneath her, Cheval let out an irritated snort, and Douglass released the reins that she’d been holding too tightly, as well as the grip of her thighs. She whispered to her mount that she would make sure he had an extra apple at breakfast. Unfortunately, Cheval was t
he only one she could confess her plight to in the group.
Aunt Alice was the worst and not a comfort to her. Well, in this situation, at least. On a normal day, she loved her aunt, and they were close. In fact, Aunt Alice knew most of her secrets.
But Alice had romanticized the situation they were in now. Leaving England for Scotland to marry an English knight who occupied a Scottish castle sounded so magical and enchanting to Alice. The woman was mad when it came to such things.
But Douglass, she’d rather scratch her own eyes out and feed them to the ravens.
The Scots were heathens, broody, moody and dirty. Thank God, she wasn’t marrying one. But to be surrounded by them day and night… Maybe she’d luck out, and the servants at the castle would be English, though she doubted it.
Alice loved to talk about how the Scottish people believed in fairy folk, and most of all, she was looking forward to what they called Samhain on All Hallow’s Eve, where they would dress up in costumes to ward off the dead walking the earth that night. It all sounded terrifying. Douglass usually countered that kind of talk
with things she heard her father say—like English knights had been the saviors of Scotland and the Scots were godless pagans who sacrificed their children at the alters. The barbarians wore women’s skirts and painted their faces. They attacked innocent women while they slept in their beds and wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter a horse and roast it over a fire pit. This was why the English occupied the castle and why she would become the mistress of such a fortress.
Which sounded dreadful, hence the reason she wanted to run away.
Douglass bent down to hug Cheval and stroke his mane. “I won’t let anyone eat you.”
Alice even talked about how no one could leave their homes for three months due to the harsh winters. Her aunt loved the idea of curling up before the fire and working on her tapestries, which sounded abhorrent to Douglass, who hated anything to do with a thread and needle or not being able to leave the castle for such a long time. However, she might enjoy the games—if she were to allow herself to enjoy anything at all, given how she was certain to be miserable.
What was she going to do if she was stuck inside for three months? That sounded like endless torture to a lady who loved the outdoors. Fresh air and sunlight—even if the air was crisp.
Douglass chanced a glance at her aunt, who was now staring longingly toward the border. The woman had to be half-mad. Didn’t she know anything about Scotland at all? This wasn’t some…fantasy land! It was brutal, harsh and every square inch was a battlefield.
While her father thought Alice was a good companion, Douglass would have rather been alone. An unrealistic daydreamer who was not aware of the danger presented before them was the worst type of ally. What help would she be when Douglass was unhappy, especially if she found the things Douglass hated to be wonderful?
Not that she was unused to it. As much as she loved her aunt, and they did have fun together, even at home in England, Alice was not always helpful in certain situations. Once, she had tried to pluck away Douglass’s widow’s peak at the front and center of her hairline because, apparently, it was all the rage in France. No, thank you.
Possibly in Scotland, she’d be lucky enough to find a lady as a companion within her new husband’s court, and Aunt Alice could return to England with her father. The thought gave her a shudder. She didn’t want to be alone in Scotland with only strangers for company. And she didn’t want to be unkind by sending her aunt away, because she was so happy to be there.
Maybe she could convince Alice—who’d never married—to remain in her place and marry Sir John de Segrave instead of Douglass.
Perhaps she could begin her campaign now…
Sir John de Segrave was a stranger to her, and her father had told her very little about him, except that she would be happy—though he’d avoided eye contact when he said it because how in the world could he know whether or not she’d be happy when he’d n
ever met the man?
A quest for information was the perfect excuse to dig them out of her aunt.
“Auntie,” Douglass started. “What do you know of John de Segrave?”
Alice’s eyes lit up. She loved talking about men in Scotland, even if they were English. “Well, now, let’s see. He’s a knight and a mighty one at that. He fought in Falkirk and,” she glanced over conspiratorially, “when the discussions for your arrangement were being made, I was able to overhear quite a few of his heroics on that battlefield.”
Douglass didn’t explain showing no mercy meant killing Scots without empathy or compassion because her aunt would likely not like to hear that.
Aunt Alice leaned closer, nearly falling from her horse and having to right herself with a girlish giggle. “Oh, my. I am getting too excited.”
Baron de Clifford turned in his horse to glower at them both, a sign they should resume their silence.
Alice waited until her brother had turned around before whispering, “He’s in control of Caerlaverock now that he’s besieged it, and I heard your father say that he expects in a couple years’ time to be put in charge of Berwick castle and named Custodian of Scotland. You, my dear, are about to marry the most powerful man in the land. A de facto king, but don’t let anyone hear you say so, or it will be—” She stopped herself short to run her finger along her neck with a grimace in a graphic example of execution.
Douglass smiled though she didn’t feel the gesture appropriate, if only to placate her aunt. “He sounds like an exceptional…specimen.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say bridegroom because he sounded like a brutal man who fit very well with how she expected any man to survive and win in Scotland. The exact opposite of any man she would want to marry. And hardly the type of man who might make good on his vows to honor and cherish her.
“Oh, indeed, young lady, indeed.” Alice let out a long sigh as she looked toward the border with an expression of whimsy.
“Perhaps you could marry him.” Douglass made out as if she were joking even though she wasn’t. She gave a short laugh and then a serious stare.
Aunt Alice’s face flushed red. “Do not ever say such a thing again,” she admonished, fanning her face as though she were about to pass out from the heat.
No one would think twice, considering it was an unusually hot day for summer, and the thickness and layers of their clothes were uncomfortable at best. Except that Douglass kept getting chills, and she knew it wasn’t from anything other than the fear of an uncertain, and likely dangerous, unhappy future laid out before her like a feast on Michaelmas.
Douglass flexed her trembling fingers, and Cheval’s body rippled beneath her, sensing her unease. She again loosened her hold and whispered an apology to her mount.
The wind rippled over the craggy grounds, riffling through her hair. A relief from the heat.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Aunt Alice said, closing her eyes briefly to enjoy it.
Douglass blinked into the wind, ignoring the whip of her hair being pulled from her plait as it pinged against her cheeks. Her worst nightmares were coming true. Again, she looked behind her. They’d been traveling for two days now. That wasn’t so long if she turned around and urged Cheval into a gallop. If she were lucky, maybe she’d fall off in the hurry and be lost forever.
The earth could open up and swallow her whole.
But then again, if she were to do that, there were many people who would be devastated— in particular, her cousin Rhiannon, who was more like a sister. If only she’d been able to come with her on this trip. Rhiannon had been raised alongside Douglass at Appleby Castle, estranged from her older brother. He had taken over their family castle after the mysterious death of their parents and had no interest whatsoever in his own sister.
Douglass would miss Rhiannon the most of all those she would be leaving behind. But they’d promised to write to each other, so she at least had that to look forward to. Likely the only happiness she would have from this day forward. All she could hope was that one day if she were lucky, she’d see Rhiannon again. It was such a far journey, but de Segrave wouldn’t stay in Scotland forever, would he?
She hoped not, because while Cheval was fast when he wanted to be, he was not as fast as her father’s horse. If she turned around now, his mount would be on her like an avalanche—snowballing her until she was a helpless prisoner. Then, because he wouldn’t allow her to try again, he might force her to ride with one of his retainers, and the rest of this miserable trip would be one hundred times worse. It seemed like her only hope of returning to England was if de Segrave decided to come back sometime.
“Alice, Douglass—do either of you need a rest? We’re passing a prime place to do so, if need be,” Baron de Clifford called from ahead.
Startled by the intrusion into her escape planning pros and cons, Douglass looked up to see her father glancing behind his shoulder at
them.
Trying to keep her face placid and not give away her thoughts, Douglas replied calmly, “No, Father.”
“I’m fine as well,” Alice said.
“It’ll be a while before we can stop again,” he warned.
Alice and Douglass exchanged glances, and then both of them shook their heads. Taking a rest meant to relieve their bladders, and it was such a pain to lift the heavy skirts up and squat down and not be able to see… They’d rather hold it as long as possible.
As soon as her father turned back around, signaling his scouts to continue forward, Alice whispered, “Are you well, child? You’re looking a bit pale.”
Douglass affected a smile, wishing she could force blood back to her face. “I’m fine, but thank you.”
“Are you sure, darling?” Alice reached over and squeezed her elbow in a show of affection. “I know I’m no replacement for the mother you lost at so young, but I am here if you need something.”
Alice’s words warmed Douglass’s heart. As much as she found her annoying, Alice truly had been the only mother she’d ever known, and she was grateful every day to have had her. After all, her father had never been the soft and cuddly type. He was a man of fortitude and expected everyone else to be that way too. “Kind but stoic” was a good way to describe him.
“Just a little nervous is all,” Douglass admitted.
Last month had been her twenty-second birthday, and she’d been well on her way to a goal of spinsterhood. She’d been all but certain her father was in on her secret plans never to marry. ...
