Against the screen, Isabella’s features creased with an angry pout. “There is no one else! Why would you ask such terrible things of me?”
Jonas could see that she was verging on a tantrum and quickly moved to stop it. It would not do to infuriate the young queen, for a myriad of reasons, mostly because he liked his head and neck just where they were.
“You must do one hundred Hail Mary’s and pray at the grave of St. Edmund for your penance,” he said quickly. “Mention de Foix’s name in your prayers and he will be forgiven as well. Go with God, my lady.”
Isabella was quickly soothed, crossing herself quickly before leaving the confessional booth. Jonas sat there, watching the flickers of light through the screen, hearing her speak with her women as she wandered from the church.
He left the confessional when she quit the church. There was much on his mind, much that de Lohr needed to know. Making his way to his quarters deep in the bowels of the cathedral, he collected his heavy cloak and his purse. He had to get to Bellham Place and he was sure he was going to have to pay someone to take him there.
The stakes of the situation had changed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bellham Place wasvery big.
Romney discovered this as he made his way down the master staircase, a big thing made out of stone. It was cold on his bare feet. He was supposed to be in bed but he had something he had to do. He was looking for the baron and the earl that Gart had spoken of, men that were trying to help them. He wanted to tell them something.
But Bellham was a big place with scary shadows on the walls. Romney paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking around. He spied two big rooms that were dark and spooky. There were ghosts in there, real ghosts this time. He could hear people moving around but he wasn’t sure where the sounds were coming from.
Over to his right, tucked back in a small corridor, there was a door with light emitting from around it. He thought maybe there were people there. Summoning his courage, he came off the steps and headed in that direction.
He stood outside the door, listening to the voices inside. They were considerably softer than they had been earlier and he could hear that they were male voices. Perhaps they were the men he was looking for. Timidly, he knocked on the door. He had to do it three times before someone opened the panel.
A muscular, blond man appeared. He peered into the darkness over Romney’s head, looking for an adult, but wasshocked when he noticed the child standing in the doorway at his feet. His brow furrowed as he gazed down at the boy, though not unkindly.
“Greetings,” he said rather pleasantly. “Who are you?”
Romney swallowed away his nervousness. “My name is Romney de Moyon,” he said. “My… my mother and I came here this afternoon.”
A faint smile crossed David’s lips as he stood back, ushering the boy inside the room and remembering how he and his brothers had robbed him of a pence for each when he last visited Dunster.
“Master Romney,” he acknowledged. “Please come in. Do not stand out there in the darkness.”
Romney entered the room, his eyes wide with apprehension, noticing a very large man standing over by the softly glowing hearth. That man didn’t seem unkind, either. But he did look curious. Romney swallowed again, knowing he should probably speak since he had interrupted these men in conference.
“I…,” he swallowed again and almost choked. “I wanted to speak with the baron and the earl.”
Christopher came away from the hearth, his focus on the nice-looking, young man in clothes that were far too big for him.
“You have found us,” he said. “I am Christopher de Lohr and this is my brother, David. How may be we be of service, Master Romney?”
Romney’s mouth popped open as he gazed between the two big men. “Are you really the Earl of Hereford?”
Christopher nodded, his sky blue eyes twinkling in the dim light. “I am,” he replied. “How can I help you?”
“And we have already met. You and your brothers robbed me at Dunster recently if you will recall,” added David.
Romney was suddenly nervous and excited. He had never met someone so important. He began to shift around on his cold feet.
“Yes, I remember now. Gart said…,” he pointed upstairs. “He said that you were trying to help us so we would not have to go to my father.”
Christopher’s smile faded as he glanced at his brother. “We are discussing many options regarding Gart and your father, young Romney. I would not worry about it if I were you.”
Romney sensed the earl wasn’t as urgent on the matter as he was. Realizing that fed his bravery because he wanted the earl to know just how important this was to him. This was his life.
“I wanted to tell you not to send my mother and me to my father,” he said sincerely. “My father… he is very mean. He hits my mother until she cannot walk. He makes her bleed and then my brothers and I must tend her because he will not let anyone else help her. Sometimes we cannot help her very much but we try.”
All of the humor was gone from Christopher’s features. He sighed heavily and crouched down in front of the boy, seriously studying the young features. He could see nothing but truth and honesty there.
