But Val didn’t intend to stop to socialize with the bishop on this day. He was more concerned with Vesper and the fact that, very soon, he would have to leave her company, which he was genuinely not looking forward to. She was so easy to talk to andthe warmth between them, starting the evening before, had only grown and now led them into a rather comfortable repartee.
It was joy beyond measure.
The more the hours passed, the more determined Val became to see her as often as he could, as much as his schedule would allow. McCloud had given him permission to court her and the sheer delight he felt was something he’d never known before. All he knew was that he wanted to see Vesper every hour of every day. He wasn’t entirely sure he could even leave her on this day, returning home to his shrew of a mother and an empty fortress. Now, something would be missing without Vesper there.
It was something he intended to rectify sooner rather than later.
At this part of December, the weather was remarkably mild as they rode into the outskirts of Bishop’s Waltham. The roads were passable and there were people out conducting business or simply visiting family or neighbors. Children played in the road, laughing and screaming, as dogs chased them about. When one child ran too close to Vesper’s palfrey and startled the horse, she pulled the little animal to a halt.
“It has been a very long time since I have visited this village,” Vesper said, watching a little girl with a kitten standing alongside the road before giving her horse a kick to get it going again. “It seems to have grown quite a bit since I last remember it.”
Val was inspecting their surroundings. “With the Bishop of Winchester seated here, it has, indeed, grown quickly over the past several years,” he said. “I seem to remember hearing that the Danes burned the town about two hundred years ago, but I do not see any evidence of that. McCloud? Did you hear that as well?”
McCloud, who was riding ahead because he wanted to leave Val and Vesper some privacy to their conversation, turned around when he heard his name.
“Indeed, it was,” he said. “I can recall my grandfather speaking of such things. His father was here when the Normans came, you know. He’d come from France to establish his orchards before the Duke of Normandy came and then he found himself fighting off his countrymen. But he managed to save his lands, poor old fellow.”
Val smiled faintly. “Fortunately for you,” he said. Then, he glanced off to the southwest where the towers of the bishop’s palace could be seen over the trees. “Have you ever had any contact with the Bishop of Winchester? It seems to me that you may have, being that your home is so close to this town.”
McCloud considered that question; had he had any contact? He hadn’t. He didn’t want any. Given what he was trying to hide, he didn’t want contact with anyone of authority, including Val, which made this journey an increasingly anxious thing. He didn’t want Val coming to their home and had spent the past hour trying to determine how to discourage him from doing just that. Given that the man was on the scent of Vesper, he suspected he would not be easily discouraged.
But he had to try.
“Nay, I do not know the man,” McCloud said. “Do you?”
Val nodded. “I have had some contact with him in the capacity of Itinerant Justice,” he said. “He is not a pleasant fellow.”
“I have heard that about him.”
Val wouldn’t say anything more, simply because they were in the bishop’s town and he didn’t want to be overheard gossiping about the man. He changed the subject slightly. “I mostly have contact with the sheriff of the village, a man named Benton. I hold court in Winchester, Fairfield, and Waterlooville aboutonce a month and Benton brings his prisoners to Fairfield, mostly.”
“Is that what you do?” Vesper asked curiously. “Travel around and render judgement in towns?”
Val nodded. “That is exactly what an Itinerant Justice is, so I travel to the larger towns in Hampshire and hold court. I also hold court at Selborne once a month.”
“Any kind of justice?”
“From someone stealing a pig to a wife beating a husband and more. Anything.”
Vesper thought that all sounded quite interesting. When her eyes met Val’s, he winked, causing her to flash that smile he was coming to love so well. But as he smiled in return, they came to an intersection of two streets and Val seemed to catch sight of something over the top of Vesper’s head.
It was a busy merchant area, a prosperous village bustling with commerce. With thoughts of Vesper and her sweet smile on his mind, it occurred to Val that he now had an excuse to remain with her a little longer. He’d been given permission to court her, had he not? And it would not be unseemly for him to give her a gift from any number of these merchants, a small token of his esteem and intentions. Moreover, McCloud was present so he could do it in full view of the woman’s father so it wouldn’t seem as if he was doing anything subversive.
But, truth be told, he was most excited to purchase something for Vesper that would remind her of him during the times they could not be together. Still, he didn’t want to come right out and say that. It seemed a little too sentimental considering how long they’d known one another.
Therefore, he would have to be clever about it.
“My lady,” he said, pointing to the merchant street beyond, “I was wondering if you might help me with selecting a gift for my mother. With the day of Christmas upon us and being in a villagewith a selection of merchants, this is a prime opportunity to find something for her.”
Vesper nodded eagerly. “I would be most happy to,” she said. “What do you think your mother would like to have?”
Val began directing his horse in the direction of the street, as did Vesper. “Fabric,” he said without hesitation. “My mother loves to sew, whether it is garments or scenes to display on walls or looms. Mayhap there is a merchant that will supply material and threads of different colors.”
Vesper was already looking around, leaning forward on the small white palfrey. “I am sure there is someone like that around here. Papa, do you know of a merchant where Sir Valor can purchase fabric for his mother?”
Trailing along behind the pair, McCloud was embarrassed by the question. He had no money to spend on anything and, therefore, wouldn’t have any idea about the merchants in town. But he would not admit that.
“I have not purchased fabric in many a year, Vesper,” he said, trying to brush off the question as a subject he didn’t care about rather than one didn’t know about. “Not since your mother was alive. You will have to find such a merchant yourself.”
