Child of the May by Theresa Tomlinson Read Free Book Online Page A

last the potter’s son was out of sight, Robert made them walk north-west, along one of his secret paths, heading for Bestwood Dell.
    There was no sign of the wagon at the Dell, just Brother James settled on a rock and John striding back and forth, crushing a pathway of thick green bracken beneath his feet, his face like thunder.
    As soon as the big man heard their approach, he leapt across the small clearing, whipping his meat knife from his belt. “You crafty whippet, you lying hound,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of jerkin and thrusting the knife at Robert’s throat. Brother James hurriedly got up from his rock.
    For a moment Magda was frightened, but Robert’s silence was reassuring. He stood there white-faced, blinking up at his friend, but he would not give ground.
    “You kept the bastard from me,” John spat at him. “You took my daughter in there! You sat my child down before her mother’s murderer!”
    Magda kept still and quiet, but remembered with resentment. Aye, and he let him hit me about the head, she thought.
    Even though John prodded at his neck with the sharp point of his knife till a trickle of blood ran, Robert did not speak. “I could have killed the man!” John spat furiously. “I could have torn him apart!”
    Still Robert said nothing, but Tom went slowly to stand at his side and face John. “We don’t doubt that you would have killed him,” he said. “But then what? I think Robert did right to keep you in ignorance.”
    Magda lurched towards her father, but she daren’t grab his arm. Though she knew he loved her dearly, he was still a huge and very angry man.
    “Robert has promised –” she said, swallowing hard to stop her voice shaking, “Robert has promised me this FitzRanulf shall be punished. Look at me, Father! Did you want to lose me too?”
    John turned to her and his face crumpled. He swung round and threw down the knife with so much force that it buried itself up to the hilt in the grassy earth. He crouched down amongst the bracken, covering his face with his hands. Magda went to him and wrapped her arms about his shoulders.
    The others watched solemnly.
    “Leave them,” said Brother James. “Let them grieve. Old wounds bleed afresh.”
    “Come here! I’ve something to show you.”
    James waved Robert and Tom over to the rock that he’d been sitting on.
    “Where’s the wagon?” Robert asked. “And Lady Matilda?”
    “Philippa insisted on taking Isabel and Matilda straight home,” James told him. “Muchlyn and Stoutly went with them. Matilda looks poorly. A frail old woman should not be dragged away from her hearthside like that. Our King would steal the gold from a dying man if he thought he could get but a pennyworth. The thought of Isabel wed to that wolfhound of his makes me shiver.”
    “Yes,” said Robert thoughtfully. “We’ve bought the girl a bit of time, but we shall have to think long and hard about it. Even if we can manage to raise the money he demands, the man never keeps to his word. Once John has dealt with my Lady de Braose, he’ll remember this other Matilda and he’s in such a rage, God knows what he’ll do.”
    The fat face of Brother James lit up with excitement.
    “Matilda . . . de . . . Braose.” He said the words slowly and with pleasure. “I have a wild idea that might teach the King what true rage is!”

10
The Bravest Woman in the Land

    Robert was instantly excited and smiling hugely. “Why, damn it, James!” he cried. “Is this one of your crazy plans? I need something mad and risky to cheer me.”
    “What’s this?” Tom frowned down at a muddle of scratched lines and marks upon the rock.
    “It’s a map,” James told them. “Though only clever learned folk like me can read it.”
    Robert threw a mock punch at his face. “All right, all right! Explain it to us poor fools.”
    James pointed with a dirty finger. “Now see this line here, the Great North Road, and this patch here, Barnsdale Waste, and here