O God, please don’t allow that to happen. But Evangeline refused to let Muriel ruin the good feeling of having helped the poor woman. She wiped away the tear from her eye and sighed. Thank You, God, that I could help her. Please save her from starvation.
Inside she felt a peace that God indeed would save the woman and would use Evangeline’s offering to do so. She couldn’t help smiling and looking up at the sky to share her smile with God.
A commotion came from the other side of the marketplace, sounding like several horses galloping their way. A woman screamed, and a man’s deep voice came from the same direction, too far away to make out what he was saying. Dogs barked, a child bawled, and a horse neighed.
Evangeline’s stomach clenched. Could it be Lord Shiveley? She and Muriel were only a few steps from the gate where Westley’s men and the others were waiting.
The horses’ hooves clopped on the packed earth. Several men on horseback approached them, some wearing the livery of the king and some of Lord Shiveley.
Evangeline’s heart stumbled and she lost her breath. They were coming for her.
Chapter Five
Westley noted the way Eva’s face transformed. All the color drained from her cheeks and her eyes went wide as the men on horseback drew close.
The men wore the livery of noble guardsmen. Five were dressed in one set of colors, and the other five guards were dressed in another. He was not certain, but he believed they were the guards of the Earl of Shiveley and King Richard.
Eva threw the scarf she had bought over her head, stuffed her distinctive red hair inside it, and tied it under her chin. Then she clung to Mildred’s forearms and seemed to be staring into her eyes. They huddled together just a few feet from the group by the gate.
The guards headed toward Westley’s men. “We are searching for two women. One of them is very tall and has red hair.”
Westley hurried forward, but before he could reach them, Roger spoke up.
“Is the woman mute?”
“No, she’s not mute.” The guard’s tone was sneering. He glanced around, then his gaze lingered on Eva and Mildred. Eva must have been squatting, because she appeared even shorter than Mildred and she kept her face toward the ground.
The guard stared at her a few moments, then said, “Move on, men.” He motioned forward with his arm, and the ten guards rode out the gate and away from the town.
Westley made his way to the two women. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh yes, very well,” Mildred said.
“Eva seems frightened. Does she know who those men are?”
“Oh, she was only startled. She thought they might have been sent by her master. She still has difficulty believing he is dead.” Mildred turned to Eva. “He is dead, Eva. We saw him with our own eyes. Dead and cold, and that is the end of his tyranny.”
“But did you not say it was her master’s wife who beat her and made her lose her voice?”
“Yes, well, they both beat her, and they are both dead now.”
Her manner made him wonder if she was lying. It seemed too great a coincidence that King Richard and Lord Shiveley were looking for two women, one of whom was tall with red hair.
Was Mildred lying about their masters being dead? The Peasants’ Uprising had ended three years before, but tensions existed between villeins and their lords ever since, and even between servants and their masters. But though he was suspicious of Mildred’s story, he hoped it was not Eva and Mildred the king was searching for.
Evangeline’s hands were still shaking as she and Muriel walked along the road with Westley and his men. Richard would have been smart enough to send guards who had seen her before and therefore could recognize her. If they had seen her face and her hair, they would have known it was her.
A chill passed over her shoulders and she shuddered. What could she have done if they had seized her, intending to take her back to Berkhamsted Castle? There was nothing she could have done. Even the tall, strong Westley could not have stopped them, and he would not have wanted to defy the king for a mute maiden he had just met.
Clouds overshadowed the road, but she hardly noticed until drops of rain began to fall. The group ran toward a thick stand of trees just off the road. Muriel took her arm and pulled her along.
As they all stood under the trees, which only provided minimal protection from the hard rain, Evangeline and Muriel huddled under the blanket she had just bought at the market.
“I’m going for some privacy,” Muriel whispered to her.
Evangeline watched to see which direction she took, then put the blanket over her head again.
She had felt so merry and so free just a few hours before. She had hardly stopped smiling as the warm sun shone on her face. A beautiful blue butterfly unlike anything she’d ever seen before had flitted in front of her, lighting on a flower, mesmerizing and lovely. Trees and grass and fresh air surrounded her and lifted her until she felt as light as one of those butterflies. No one was telling her what to do or think or whom to marry. Life had seemed so full of promise. She was in the company of men who treated her like an equal, one of whom was handsome and smiled more than anyone she had ever met. He made her heart swell when he looked at her. But now . . .
She should have known Richard would chase after her, that Lord Shiveley would not simply let her disappear and not search for her. Of course they would send men after her to bring her back and force her to marry Shiveley. Still, she had not expected them to catch up to her so soon.
Westley’s expression told her he did not believe Muriel’s blatant lies. But Evangeline’s ruse of pretending to be mute had actually worked, and he and his men had not turned them in to the king’s and Lord Shiveley’s guards. But was it only a matter of time before she was caught?
“Eva?”
She felt a slight touch to her shoulder and jerked the blanket off her face. Westley was standing beside her.
“Why were you so afraid of those men?”
His brows were drawn together, and his gaze delved into hers.
She simply shook her head.
“Is someone looking for you?”
Evangeline could no longer look him in the eye. She had to tell him the lie, or he might tell them they could not travel with him and his group. She did not know much about the world, but she did know that people did not take it lightly when a villein ran away from his or her lord. A villein would be severely punished for running away. So she shook her head no.
Someone cleared their throat behind Westley. He stepped aside, revealing Muriel standing there.
“Do you need something?” Muriel glowered at him.
“Only inquiring after Eva.”
Evangeline frowned at Muriel and gave a slight shake of her head. You’re not under the king’s protection anymore, Muriel. They had to pretend to be humble and respectful. After all, they were supposed to be poor servants.
Westley gave Evangeline a questioning but kind look, then he left.
Evangeline scowled at Muriel, who huddled with her under the blanket.
“I don’t want that man getting too close to you.”
Evangeline dared to whisper back, “Why?”
“We don’t want him discovering your secrets.”
Westley had been nothing but gracious. And he had risked his life to save a little girl. But if Evangeline knew Muriel, the reason she didn’t want him getting too close to her was due to his status as a peasant.
Evangeline and Muriel walked until dark, slept on the ground again, then walked all the next day. Evangeline had never walked so much in her entire life. By the time they reached Glynval, it was dark and they were all weary and footsore.
She and Muriel were taken inside the bottom floor of a building where beds were lined up and nearly all occupied. A servant showed them two empty beds against the wall. Evangeline did not even take the time to get undressed but lay down and fell instantly to sleep.
She awoke to find herself in a large rectangul
ar room. Light streamed in through the small windows. Several rows of beds, now empty, met her curious glance around the room.
“Are you finally awake?” Muriel bustled toward her. “Get up and get ready. Mistress Alice is deciding where we shall work today.”
Evangeline sat up and rubbed her face.
“Most of the servant girls have gone out to the fields to cut the wheat. Here is your breakfast.” Muriel handed her a cloth bundle.
Evangeline unwrapped it and found a bread roll and a piece of cheese. She ate it quickly. Since she had slept in her overdress, she was ready to go as soon as she put on her shoes.
The bright sunlight made her blink as she emerged into a large courtyard of green grass. A young woman was slapping the ground with a stick to keep a gaggle of geese from straying, and a young man was leading a flock of sheep through a gate into a pasture. A wooden platform stood in the middle of the courtyard with a pillory, where a person’s head and hands would be imprisoned between two wooden boards for punishment. The steward occasionally used the pillory at Berkhamsted Castle to punish a servant for thievery.
A young woman was operating a windlass at a covered well. Muriel led her toward it. “Can she have a dipper of water?” Muriel said to the maiden raising the bucket.
“Who is this?” The maiden stared at Evangeline’s face, then looked her over from head to toe.
At Berkhamsted Castle, if a servant had spoken to Muriel that way, she would have given her quite the tongue-lashing. She squeezed Muriel’s arm. Please remember we are peasants now. Evangeline held her breath.
“And who are you?” Muriel leaned toward the girl, her hands on her hips.
“I am the girl with the bucket.” She smirked.
The girl seemed to be about Evangeline’s age. She brought the water bucket the rest of the way up and balanced it on the edge of the wall around the well. She had large blue eyes and blonde hair that came to her waist and was only partially covered with a kerchief. Her beauty was marred only by her smug smile.
Muriel simply scowled at her, a look that would have made Evangeline’s heart race if she had ever looked at her that way. The girl stared back at them, then finally dipped up some water and held it out to her.
Evangeline took it and drank the entire contents. The water was cold and pure and tasted wonderful. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. She wanted to ask for another dipper full, so she handed it back but held on to the handle longer than necessary. Then she nodded while raising her eyebrows.
“She wants another.”
Muriel’s tone was not very friendly, so Evangeline smiled, hoping to win the girl over.
The girl frowned. “What’s the matter with her? Can’t she talk for herself?”
“She’s mute.”
“Oh.” The girl’s face brightened, though she still had that smug smile, still sizing Evangeline up out of the corner of her eye. She dipped the metal ladle into the bucket and handed over the water. “I heard you came back from Berkhamsted Castle with Westley and the boys.” Her tone was friendlier.
Some water dribbled down Evangeline’s chin and she wiped it with the back of her hand, just like a real peasant. Evangeline smiled as she handed back the empty dipper. No one would ever guess I am the ward of the king.
“And your friend is deaf and dumb?”
“No, not deaf. She is only mute.”
A pain, like a pricking in her chest, evidenced the guilt of allowing Muriel to repeat the lie. She needed to confess to the priest. But she could not offer confession if everyone thought she was mute. How would she ever be absolved?
But she would not think about that now.
“My name is Sabina. I am the miller’s daughter.”
“We are Mildred and Eva. Mistress Alice is waiting for us at the main house. Come, Eva.” Muriel turned away from Sabina and started off across the courtyard.
Evangeline glanced backward. Sabina was putting the bucket back into the well. She was the miller’s daughter then, not a servant.
Evangeline followed Muriel around a stand of trees. In a clearing a castle appeared—a lovely stone castle with towers and stained glass windows but smaller than the palace building at Berkhamsted Castle.
They walked around to a side door. Muriel knocked and a young woman let them into a room where several women were working—two were clearing a long table of food scraps and throwing them into a bucket, while another woman sat at a smaller table. She was using a pen made out of a hollow reed to write on a piece of parchment.
As they approached, the woman looked them up and down. “What are your names?”
“I am Mildred and this is Eva. She doesn’t speak.”
“She won’t speak, or she can’t speak?”
“She cannot speak.”
Mistress Alice looked sharply at Evangeline’s face. “She is young and tall and strong. She can work in the fields. Mildred, you can churn butter with the milkmaids for now.”
Muriel opened her mouth as if to speak, glancing at Evangeline out of the corner of her eye, but she pursed her lips instead, a wrinkle forming above the bridge of her nose.
Soon the two were separated, and another maidservant was taking her to the fields. “Can you understand me when I speak to you?”
Evangeline nodded.
“My name is Nicola. I’m sorry you are being sent to the fields. It’s harder than working in the house, but they stop work in the mid-afternoon so no one faints from the heat.”
Truthfully, she could hardly wait to begin working out in the warm sunshine with all the other peasants. Perhaps she could make her home here, fall in love with a peasant—preferably Westley—“miraculously” regain her voice, and live out her life in the lovely village of Glynval.
“You traveled with Westley and the other men. Did you think he was handsome?”
Evangeline nodded.
“He and Sabina—that’s the miller’s daughter—are nearly betrothed. Everyone expects them to marry, at least. More’s the pity, because I don’t think she’s worthy of him. But they are the wealthiest family in Glynval, besides Westley’s.”
Westley’s family was wealthy? Eva’s heart sank.
“Here’s your new worker, Reeve Folsham,” Nicola said to the man standing at the edge of the field. “Her name is Eva, and she is mute.”
“Mute?” The man looked almost insulted.
“She understands what you say but she doesn’t speak. Farewell, Eva.” Nicola turned and walked back toward the manor house.
Reeve Folsham stared at her. Finally, he frowned and handed her a tool with a long wooden handle and a curved, almost circular blade on the end. The man’s skin was dark and leathery, like a horse’s saddle. He seemed about Lord Shiveley’s age, but his hair was entirely white and his shoulders were wide and muscular.
“What are you waiting for? You can start cutting over there.”
A swath of standing grain—perhaps wheat—stretched out to her right, and straight ahead several women bent forward as they used the strange instrument to slice through the stalks. As if by magic, the stalks of grain would fall to the ground in perfect flat swaths.
It looked easy, so Evangeline stepped to the edge of the standing grain, bent, and swung her blade across the bottom of the stalks.
A few stalks bent and broke, but most only waved their heads at her.
She huffed out a breath, blowing a strand of hair that had fallen across her eye. The reeve was watching her. She drew back the instrument, clenching her teeth, and swung with all her might.
The handle slipped out of her grasp and went flying in the direction of the reeve.
Evangeline covered her mouth with her hands as Reeve Folsham leapt to the side when the blade sliced through his tunic.
Evangeline stepped toward him, her stomach twisting.
“What kind of evil is this?” he roared at her. “Are you trying to murder me?”
Chapter Six
Evangeline shook her head vehemently. O Go
d, what have I done?
Two men hurried toward them. One of them was Westley.
“What happened?”
“This mute girl tried to kill me.” The reeve lifted his shirt. A long stripe of blood shone across his side.
Evangeline’s knees went weak and her heart pounded sickeningly. Was it a serious injury? A trickle of bright-red blood oozed from one end of the cut.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks as Westley stepped closer, bringing his face to within inches of the wound.
“Oh, Folsham, it’s only a scratch. What are you shouting about? You’ve scared the poor girl nearly to death.”
Westley was looking at her now. Her face tingled and her knees wobbled.
“She slung the scythe at me!” Reeve Folsham waved his arms, still holding up his tunic. “She looked at it as if she’d never seen a scythe in her life, then she slung it at me.”
Evangeline could only shake her head. But even if she could speak, what could she say? How could she explain that she hadn’t meant to do it, that she was indeed completely ignorant of a scythe and how to use it, and it had slipped out of her hands—and flew straight for the reeve’s rather wide body.
“It was just an accident.” Westley smiled, then covered his mouth with his hand as if stifling a laugh.
“She is a menace. Look at me. I’m bleeding. Lord le Wyse, you saw it, did you not?”
Another man standing behind Westley now stepped forward. He was much older than Westley, had darker hair that was beginning to gray, and wore a black leather patch over one eye. He pierced Evangeline with his gaze, then turned to the reeve. “Go on to the house, Folsham. One of the maids can tend to your scratch.”
“Scratch. Hmph. I tell you, she could have killed me.”
It was true. She could have killed him. The breath went out of her and she covered her face. What did I almost do? She breathed in and out as a tear squeezed out of each eye. She kept her eyes covered so no one would see.