Suzanne Robinson Read Free Page B

porridge.”
    “I pray you heartily,” Honor said, “No more such talk. We’re going home.”
    As the Stafford escort arrived, she gathered her reins and mounted with Dagobert’s help. After a brief greeting, she guided her mare beside the destrier of her father’s most trusted knight, Sir Renard Fitz Gilbert. The party set out again and rode for almost an hour along the de Marlowe border. It was still morning, but the sun had burned the dew from the grass. The farther they went the more narrow the road grew, until it became little more than a path. Finally, as it wound around the edge of the forest to her right, Honor reined in once more. She glanced at a nearby hill. Much taller than the rest, it was even more shrouded in brush, forest, and vegetation than the others.
    “We will break our fast here, Sir Renard.”
    The servants busied themselves with meal preparations and the soldiers saw to the horses. Informing Sir Renard that she would stretch her legs while the meal was being prepared, Honor walkedinto the forest with Jacoba. Only the groom Wilfred went with them, to stand guard at a distance. He was one of those young men who never seemed to outgrow his youthful awkwardness, which possibly was due to the extreme length of his arms and legs. Jacoba often remarked that it was a miracle he was able to get them all moving in the same direction.
    Honor took refuge behind thick bushes to attend to her private needs, and then rejoined her servants.
    “Come,” she said, and she plunged deeper into the forest, in the direction of the tall hill. She led them to a clearing from which they had a better view of the hill. “I can’t see it.”
    “What’s that, my lady?” asked Jacoba.
    “Durance Guarde.”
    Wilfred swallowed hard and gaped at the hill. “God save us. Durance Guarde?”
    Shading her eyes, Honor didn’t reply. She craned her neck, but failed to locate even a part of the old ruin.
    “I must have a look,” she muttered to herself.
    “You can’t, my lady,” Wilfred said. “No one goes up there. I’ve never been this close to it, and I’ve lived me whole life on Stafford demesne.”
    Jacoba wrung her apron. “We thought you’d given up the idea of building at Durance Guarde, me lady. It’s an evil place, and ruin befalls those that venture near it.”
    “Then stay here. I’ll be back in a trice.”
    “No!” Wilfred and Jacoba cried.
    Honor turned slowly to face them and said, “No? Who is mistress here?”
    They stared at her, neither speaking.
    “Exactly,” Honor said. “I’ll be back before I’m missed, it isn’t far.”
    Lifting her skirts, Honor set off. She left the clearing for the shade of the forest and soon heard footsteps behind her. Jacoba trotted up, with Wilfred close behind.
    “Your father would skin me and lop off me head if I let you go alone, my lady,” Wilfred said in a shaky voice.
    “That’s what I told him,” Jacoba added.
    “Very well, but I’ll hear no whining or complaints. You mustn’t believe silly stories told to frighten children.”
    “Told to frighten adults, by my troth,” muttered Jacoba.
    “We’ll be carried off by demons,” Wilfred whispered, his eyes protruding from his skull.
    “Nonsense,” Honor said. She picked up her skirts once more and hopped over a lichen-encrusted log. The hem of her gown dragged and picked up bits of moss. “You’ll see. There’s naught at Durance Guarde but ruined towers full of spiders and owls.”

Two
 
    H onor walked quickly through the forest, shoving her way through stands of bushes, and vines that hung from tree limbs in great cascades. The closer she got to Durance Guarde, the denser the vegetation grew, and the trees seemed to get larger too. As she tramped on ferns and climbed over rocks and hillocks, she thought of the wonderful plans she had for this place.
    She was going to build a manor house.
    It wasn’t to be an ordinary manor house, however. She was going fill it with wondrous things.