The Merchant's Daughter

Ranulf grunted and tried to keep the gruffness out of his voice. “You know that I of all people have no such pleasant thoughts.”

 

 

Sir Clement raised his eyebrows then frowned. “Nonsense. You’re a man of flesh and blood, aren’t you?”

 

“Am I?”

 

 

 

 

 

Mistress Eustacia brought a trencher with a large piece of pheasant, as she had promised.

 

Annabel sat on the edge of her bed and ate, forcing the small bites down her tight throat, while her mistress revived the dying fire in the fireplace at the back wall.

 

“The coroner is Sir Clement. He seems a kind sort, he does. Knew Lord Ranulf since they were lads together. I’d say we couldn’t ask for a better man for the job. He’ll soon find out what happened to Bailiff Tom, and then this whole nasty business will be over and done, more’s the better.”

 

“Do people think it wasn’t an accident, then? That someone was trying to hurt the bailiff?” She glanced up to see Mistress Eustacia’s expression.

 

“Aye, they do — that is, Maud thinks so. She was quite distraught, poor girl.” Mistress Eustacia shook her head, her hands on her plump hips.

 

“Perhaps it was only an accident.” Annabel stared down at the piece of pheasant. The last bite seemed to be stuck in her throat.

 

“’Twill be up to Sir Clement to decide. Come now, finish your morsel of supper and go tend to Lord Ranulf’s bandage. He should be nearly finished and waiting for you.”

 

She had forgotten about his bandage. She changed it every night. Why should tonight be any different? She must behave as though everything was normal.

 

But everything wasn’t normal. Besides the fact that Lord le Wyse was behaving strangely, how could she bear the presence of the coroner when the very thought of him made her hands tremble?

 

She couldn’t eat another bite. “Let me go to the well. I must wash my hands and get a drink.”

 

“Of course, child.”

 

As Annabel washed, she took several deep breaths and said a prayer. She tried to think of more words, but all her muddled brain could think to say was “God, help me. Help me.”

 

She willed one foot in front of the other all the way back to the upper hall, then opened the door and stepped inside. Most of the people were beginning to depart, the mood much more quiet and somber than usual. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord le Wyse’s gaze lock onto her.

 

I forgot to get clean bandages and honey from the kitchen storeroom. She clenched her teeth to keep from groaning. As she turned to go back out, Mistress Eustacia halted her.

 

“Where are you going? Lord le Wyse is waiting for you. I have the clean water ready.”

 

“I forgot the bandages and honey.”

 

“Oh, I have those all ready for you. Come.”

 

Annabel obeyed and followed. Her heart seemed to weigh as much as a horse and to take up almost as much room in her chest, forcing her to breathe harder with less intake of air. Please let me not get dizzy again. With God’s favor, perhaps Lord le Wyse and the coroner would ignore her, as they would a candle or a table or a stick of firewood, and let her work on the burns without engaging her in their conversation. Any other lord would treat her that way all the time. But Lord le Wyse wasn’t any other lord. Usually he was kind to her and treated her as if she had intelligence, as if she was more than just a servant.

 

She had to bring her thoughts back to the here and now, to think only about getting through the next hour, the next minute.

 

Lord le Wyse and Sir Clement were engaged in conversation alone at the table.

 

“Anyone could have set the fire, but the evidence appears to have been burned up and destroyed.” The coroner rubbed his jaw then took another drink of ale, setting his tankard down with a thud. “I can question the men who were asleep in the barn if you want, but unless someone comes forward saying they saw something, you’ll probably never know what happened.”

 

Ranulf nodded.

 

Not wishing to intrude, Annabel lingered behind Mistress Eustacia as the woman pulled up a stool for Annabel beside Lord le Wyse’s chair.

 

“My lord?” Mistress Eustacia clasped her hands, bending toward him.

 

He looked up.

 

“Annabel is here to see to your bandages.”

 

He turned his eye on her. She couldn’t help searching his face for signs of his mood, but his features were unreadable. She cast her gaze to the floor before he or Sir Clement thought her insolent.

 

Lord le Wyse turned to his companion and held up his bandaged arm.

 

Sir Clement shook his head and waved his hand. “Pray, do not let me hinder you from what you need to do. Pretend I’m not here.”

 

Lord le Wyse turned his chair to face Annabel’s stool. She took the bandages from Mistress Eustacia, breathing easier when she saw that her hand did not shake. Surprisingly, a measure of calm descended over her as she drew near to her lord.

 

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