The situation showed no improvement on Sam’s noisy return to his mother and nurse after almost the whole day in Joshua’s care. He had, he told them in non-stop breathless chatter, been allowed to help the bowman to make him a small bow and then the fletcher to make him arrows. Then they had sat him upon Josh’s great horse while it was being groomed, and someone had fashioned a small sword for him to wave. None of which impressed his safety-conscious mother.
‘Have they no thought for the danger, for pity’s sake? What on earth are they thinking of?’ she scolded. ‘Is that their idea of how to look after a child of six? I should never have allowed him near them. Idiots!’ They were in the kitchen and heads had begun to turn at the unusual spectacle of Lady Ebony in a fret. ‘What would your Grandpa Moffat say to that, I wonder?’ she went on, preparing a dish of chicken pieces and cold stuffing for Meg and Brother Walter.
‘He’d say they were cloot-headed bastards, Mama,’ Sam chirped, helping himself to the crust of the bannock on the tray. ‘But Josh doesn’t have a cloth head. He’s nice.’
It was not so much the sentiments that Ebony deplored, but the fact that he was able to voice them with such pride in his vocabulary. Her eyes met Biddie’s in astonishment. ‘We have no way of knowing,’ she said in unmistakable reproof, ‘whether their parents were married or not, so it’s best not to use that word until we can be sure, Sam Moffat.’
Unabashed, Sam broke another piece off the bannock and popped it into his mouth. ‘Will they tell us, then?’
‘Probably not. And it would not be polite to ask them. Now, leave that alone. You’ve had your supper. Come with me upstairs.’
‘May I not go and see Grandpa and Aunt Meg now?’
‘Not at the moment. He’s sleeping. Biddie will take this to Aunt Meg.’ Sam was hauled away, protesting, but still full of excitement about the usually banned activities he had shared with the men, an enthusiasm his protective mother could not recall him ever showing in Sir Joseph’s forbidding company. He was also utterly exhausted and, by the time they had reached the upper chamber, his remaining energy took him only as far as the bed where he flopped, one gangling arm and one leg barely making it to the surface.
Ebony sat by him, holding back the natural impulse to undress him and tuck him into the bed where he slept with her and Biddie each night. He would need to be dressed if they were to go within hours. ‘Sam,’ she said, stroking his soft hair. Sleepily, he crawled over the coverlet and snuggled into her embrace and, while she deliberated what to tell him or indeed whether she could bring herself to leave Meg in such a sorry plight, his eyes closed, the light began to fade, and it was time to light the candles.
Her torment was resolved as Biddie reappeared. ‘Biddie,’ she said. ‘We’re not going.’
The young nursemaid looked as if she had mis-heard. ‘Not…?’ she said.
‘Not,’ said Ebony. ‘I can’t leave Meg tonight. It wouldn’t be right. She needs us.’
Biddie came further into the room and sat on a stool by the side of the chest from which their clothes had been taken. ‘But they’re to take you and Sam tomorrow, anyway,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they? And didn’t Mistress Meg say you should make a run for it? You’re thinking it’s too dangerous?’
‘It’s not the danger, Biddie. It’s Meg, mostly.’
‘Mostly.’ The maid recognised uncertainty as well as anyone. ‘And Sam?’ she said.
‘Well, look at him. We’ll never get him moving again after the day he’s had. He went out like a light with not even a story to soothe him.’ Sam had not moved, his long slender legs dangling like ropes off her lap, his little toes pointing inwards, his thumb nowhere near his mouth, so far.
‘But the bag of food and clothes is on the stairway to the kitchen-garden door,’ said Biddie. ‘I hid it behind the empty baskets. If you’re sure we’re not going, I’d better go and bring it back before anyone finds it. Besides, we’ll need it for tomorrow.’
‘I think it’s for the best. And when Sam’s in bed, I’ll go down and tell Meg we’re staying. She’s as exhausted as the rest of us, poor lass. Light some candles before you go.’ Ebony looked down at her sleeping child, sure that she had done the right thing, but aware of some uncertainty about the reasons she had given to her maid. Were there others that she could not interpret? Was her decision entirely unselfish? Did it matter, after all?
In the soft dancing glow of candlelight, the large chamber was redefined, restoring muted colour to the wall-hangings and darkening the lancets of sky beyond the windows. Suspended over the bed, the canopied tester almost dissolved into the low beams above, and the pale blue bedcurtains had now changed to the deep aquamarine of an evening sky, her linen pillows the cream of beestings, the cow’s first milk. Carved roundels stood out sharply on the sides of her prie-dieu, and tomorrow she would have to leave it all behind for a new life with a mob of thieves. But tonight, she must allow Sam and Biddie to sleep in peace.
The opening of the door came fast upon a peremptory knock, making both Ebony and Biddie jump with fright. ‘You!’ Ebony snapped, angered by the uncomfortable lurch behind her breastbone.
Sir Alex stepped inside and swung the heavy door closed behind him, sending a rush of fear through Ebony’s arms, making them tighten upon Sam’s heavy form. It was the first time she had seen him at a distance, time to notice his long legs and well-muscled thighs encased in leather chausses, his wide shoulders and the haughty set of his head, the sheer power of him as he stared her down even from yards away. ‘Well?’ she said, though her voice had suddenly lost its cutting edge as he approached the bed, holding up the linen parcel of clothes and food that Biddie had supposedly hidden.
‘Well indeed,’ he said, companionably, placing himself on the bed by her side. He laid the parcel between them and undid the knot with strong workmanlike fingers, laying it open to reveal Sam’s small-clothes and extra shoes, a woollen blanket, a shawl, two bannocks, half a chicken, a wedge of cheese and three apples. ‘You’ll not get far on this, will you?’ he said. ‘Not with his appetite.’ He glanced at the sleeping child with a smile. ‘And you’ll break both your necks carrying him down those stairs in the dark.’ He tipped his head towards the doorway.
The clothes and food were, she knew, totally inadequate, but it was all they could carry. And now, with Sam still clothed, she would never be able to convince her captor that they had decided against escape. ‘We weren’t going to,’ she said. ‘We were not going anywhere.’ She could see in his dismissive glance that he did not believe her.
‘No,’ he said, reminding her of a condescending uncle, ‘it was never a possibility, was it, with so many hawk-eyed men around? They don’t miss anything, you see, nor was I fooled by your agreement. You’re not the kind to stick to a bargain if you can see a better one ahead, are you, m’lady?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to say that all’s fair in love and war, but she dared not lay herself open to more of his scorn, knowing the adage not to be true. ‘I have no place for luxuries like honour where my son’s life is concerned, sir. That’s for men, not for mothers. And if you can behave without it, then so can I. We’re even.’
His eyes were deeply shadowed; she could not tell what impact her fighting words had made upon him, but she was glad to see that he did not find her amusing. ‘The lad’s life is not in danger, my lady. I’ve already told you that. The issue is one of access, as you well know, but it was not very bright of you to gamble with that, after the skirmish we had earlier.’
‘Well, a man like you would think