A Widow Plagued Read Free Page B

the stream at the back of the keep.
    The keep had been designed so that it was secure on all fronts. For practicality’s sake, it had not been completely walled off, however. The front of the castle displayed a guard wall and solid oak door. Yet, the northwest corner of the castle was protected by the geographical elements of a stream and rocky slope. The only way that a force could scale the slope would be to take a small boat upstream from a narrow, ocean-fed tributary, climb the slope, and cross the stream. It was an unlikely avenue of attack, made more unlikely by the vigilance of Lord Sander’s dogs. Any small onslaught of soldiers would be immediately discovered and picked off, as they climbed over the rocky embankment. The keep itself sat on a rise, making it impenetrable from all but the largest of forces. Small and nondescript, the fort had never inspired any sort of military acquisition. In fact, the original Baron Sanders had given up the comfort of a walled manor house in favor of a small castle more from fear that northern raiders would threaten his food stores and life stock, than of any real need to protect the land from an over-seas invasion. Such fears were foreign to Sara. Nay, if death came to visit their small strip of land, t’would be the apocalyptic horseman, Plague.
    The new lord interrupted Sara’s thoughts by demanding, “Lady Sara, how old is thy daughter, Hannah?”
    Stiffening, Sara replied cautiously. “Hannah is in her thirteenth summer. She is just now become a woman. She will not be ready to wed for at least two years.”
    Laughing, Gavin responded, “I am not interested in wedding thy daughter, My Lady. I only ask to determine her need of a suitor, and, I must admit, I was attempting to determine thy age. Ye seem not much older than Hannah. I cannot imagine ye having a grown daughter.”
    Sara looked at her new Master, assessing. There was nothing overtly menacing in the set of his wide jaw, so she openly explained. “Oh, ye misunderstand, Lord Sanders. She is my daughter by marriage. Lady Hannah is my husband’s child. She is my stepdaughter. I myself am five and twenty.”
    “And what of yer plans, Lady Sara? Ye have been widowed. Plan ye to wed again?”
    Just what scheme does this giant have in mind ? Sara wondered. Aloud, she replied, “Aye, Lord Sanders, I suppose I must wed again. I do not plan on being a burden upon thee. Tis only that, until today, I had the manor to maintain. Tis improper to discuss, but I am also certain thou hast noticed that I carry the deceased Baron’s child.” What Sara dared not say was that if the babe were a male, he would be the new Baron, and not Sir Gavin. “When the time comes, I will remarry as ye see fit. Do ye have a match in mind? I would think that, with the plague about, eligible gentlemen are few.”
    “Aye, that they are. Matching ye, though, should be easy enough. Tis thy daughter that concerns me. Perhaps we should wait to find her a match until the worst of this contagion is past.”
    “Art thou willing to provide her with a dowry, My Lord? I would hope that she would be well provided for. Her father left her nothing but her mother’s personal effects. She is quite without means.”
    “Verily, I shall provide her with a dowry. As her father has left me the whole of his fortune, tis only just that I share some of it with his daughter, and with his widow.”
    “Thou will provide me with a dowry, Lord Sanders?”
    “I doubt that shall be necessary.”
    “Ye know of a man that would marry a penniless, expecting widow, My Lord?”
    “One that is expecting the baron’s get? Aye, I do. More to the point, hast thou wrote to inform the king of thy condition? I was not informed.”
    “Nay, Lord Sanders, I have not. I wrote a letter but was then at a loss for how to send it. Besides, a woman hardly speaks of such things and the chances of me baring a healthy son are not so high as for me to bother the likes of the