“You fear he would beat you, the way you were beaten by your masters?”
“I was not beaten by my masters.” Her cheeks burned. She understood why that lie would make him angry. “It was wicked of us to falsely say I was beaten and lost my voice as a consequence. We did not think about the harm our lie would cause. We were not accusing anyone in particular. Still, it was inexcusable, and I am sorry.”
“But you are afraid of this man finding you. That is why you told the lie.”
“Yes. I do not wish to be found. Please. I am relying on your mercy and kindness should he come looking for me.”
He did not say anything for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I shall have to hear what he has to say. Perhaps he has a very different tale to tell. Perhaps you are betrothed or are already married and have run away from your husband.”
“No! No, I have no husband.” When she had run away from Berkhamsted Castle, she had declared herself free, as free as any free man, belonging only to God. But the king might not see things that way.
“I would not turn over one of my servants—my father’s servants—to anyone without a very good reason for doing so.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“The lord is my father. You should continue to call me Westley.”
She nodded.
“It is still difficult for me to trust you after you deceived everyone in Glynval.”
Hearing him speak the consequences of her wrongdoing pricked her heart, but she forced herself to say, “Of course. I understand.”
They were both silent, standing near each other but not making eye contact in the relative darkness. But it helped calm her breathing, because if he hated her, he would leave and go in the house.
“I have a request to make of you. We will be having our harvest festival in a fortnight, and there is always a singing contest. People come from the surrounding villages to compete, and I would like you to sing for Glynval.”
“Oh, I . . . I don’t think I should draw attention to myself.”
“You shouldn’t be in any danger, and I am asking you to sing. I wish it. You have a beautiful voice.”
The idea of singing in front of people who had thought she was mute and now knew she was lying was not a pleasant prospect. “Everyone will scorn me because I pretended to be mute.”
“They will scorn you—or not—whether you sing or not.”
That was no doubt true. She looked into his eyes and her heart skipped a beat. “As you wish. I shall sing . . . for Glynval.” For you.
“Thank you.”
“I also . . . I was wondering if your memory of what happened to you when you fell in the water had come back to you.”
“No. Why?”
“Has Sabina told you that there were a couple of men nearby, men who may have pushed you into the water?”
“She said something like that. How did you know?”
“I was there, as you will remember the men saying I stayed with you while Sabina went for help. But what they didn’t know is that I was there before you fell in the water. I saw what happened and jumped in to save you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Of course he wouldn’t believe her, but she had to try.
“I saw the men. One of them hit you in the head with a block of wood and then pushed you into the water.”
He stood still. “Are you saying Sabina is lying?”
Did she dare tell him the whole truth? She took a deep breath. “Sabina came because I was calling for help.”
He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I know you probably don’t believe me, but it is the truth, and you need to know because they may try to hurt you again.” She allowed her determination to infuse her voice. “After the men ran away, I jumped in and raised your head out of the water. I wasn’t strong enough to pull you up the bank and was calling for help. That’s when Sabina came and helped me drag you out. I am not telling you this for any sort of thanks or reward, but to put you on your guard. Truly, I hope you will take some precautions.”
“And who were these two murderous men?”
“I have never seen them before or since.”
Another twist of his lips. He did not believe her.
“I shall go now. I only wanted to ask your forgiveness and to warn you about those men so you will be careful.”
She turned and hurried away as tears blurred her vision.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day Westley stood by the well talking with Reeve Folsham. Several men had come from the field to get a drink at the well.
Eva and Nicola approached with their buckets. The men respectfully stood back and let them draw water, even helping them haul it up.
Just then a familiar voice called out, “Westley!”
“John.” Normally Westley would greet his friend with a jovial clap on the back. But the last time he’d seen John flooded his mind, the tension and accusations.
But today John was smiling. “Good morning, Westley. A pleasant day, is it not?”
“How are you?” Westley took a step toward him, then someone yelled.
“Stop! These are the men!” Eva pointed at John and his servant, Roger Cox.
“What?”