Rosalin waited for what seemed like hours for her brother to return to his solar. Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap. The glass of wine that she’d drunk for courage tossed in her stomach.
She dreaded the conversation ahead of her but knew it could not be avoided. She couldn’t let those men be killed because of what she’d done.
It was dark when her brother finally entered the room. He looked surprised to see her. “What are you doing here, Rosie-lin? I thought you’d be readying for the evening meal.” He frowned, seeing the distress on her face. “Is something wrong?”
She blinked up at him, feeling the heat gather in her throat and behind her eyes. “It’s all my fault!” Unable to hold back, the tears and emotion came pouring out. “I gave them the food. I didn’t think there would be any harm and they looked so hungry. I was only trying to help.” She latched on to his arm, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t punish them.”
The jumbled confession took him a moment to sort through, but when he did, his face darkened. It wasn’t often that her brother was angry with her, and she hated it. “Damn it, Rosalin, I told you to stay away from them! Do you have any idea how dangerous those men are?”
“I do. I swear I didn’t go anywhere near them.” She explained how she took the scraps of food to the cart at night. He seemed to relax a little, and his expression wasn’t quite as thunderous. “I only wanted to ease their suffering. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
He gave her a long, steady look. “You never meant for things like this to happen, which is exactly why you don’t belong here. Your heart is too soft for war. These men are not one of your scullery maids with blistered hands or a serving wench who needs to spend more time with her sick baby rather than tend her duties.”
“But Katie’s hands were so chapped they were bleeding, and it wasn’t fair that Meggie lost a week’s pay because she missed a few hours—”
Her brother held up his hand, stopping her. “That’s what I’m trying to say. These men are hardened killers—they are not deserving of your kindness.”
She bowed her head, unable to meet his gaze. “I had to dosomething.”
She heard him sigh and a moment later, he wrapped his arm around her and drew her to his side. Relief that he’d forgiven her only made her sob harder. “I’m so sorry.”
He murmured soothing words and rocked her against him until she quieted. It reminded her of the night her father had died, and the night less than a year later when their mother had followed. “You can’t stay here, little one. I should have sent you home right away, but I was selfish. I missed you, and seeing your face was like a breath of spring air in this cesspit.”
She looked up at him, eyes burning. “You are sending me away?”
Please, not that.Anything but that.
He nodded solemnly. “Aye, but only for a while. I will come see you in London as soon as I am done here. The king will wish a report, and I can give it to him personally. I will bring Maud and the children. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She nodded; he knew she would. He smiled teasingly. “Besides, I want to see all these suitors Hereford has been telling me about.”
Heat crawled up her cheeks. That was one of the reasons she’d come. The attention at court had become impossible and none of the men interested her. No man had interested her until…
“Does that mean you will spare them?”
It took him a moment to follow her leap in conversation. His mouth tightened—whether from anger or the unpleasantness of the topic, she didn’t know.
“Your misguided charity changes nothing.”
“But it isn’t fair—”
He cut her off in a voice that brokered no argument. “This is war, Rosalin. Fair doesn’t enter into it. They nearly killed three of my men. Whatever the provocation, prisoners cannot be allowed to fight back. Ever. Especially these prisoners. They are not worth your tears.”
“But—”
He cut her off again, his face getting that implacable, we’re-done-talking-about-it look. “I will hear no more on the subject. These men have been given only a temporary reprieve from the executioner’s axe. But they have proved too dangerous even for that. They are brigands who fight without chivalry and honor. Their leader is a vicious scourge who would slit your pretty neck without thinking twice. Do you understand?”
Her eyes widened. Her brother spoke with such conviction, but his words did not jibe with the man she’d watched the past couple weeks. Knowing that Cliff would not be gainsaid, all she could do was nod.
He smiled. “Good, then we will hear no more of this. What’s this I hear about your taking after our illustrious ancestor?”
Rosalin blushed at the gentle teasing about her embarrassing nickname. Their infamous great-great-great-aunt Rosamund Clifford had captured the heart of King Henry II and had gone down in history as “The Fair Rosamund.” Apparently, the men at court had taken to calling her “The Fair Rosalin.”
She tried to play along with her brother’s teasing, but she could not forget the horrible fate awaiting the men in the prison, especially the one languishing in the pit prison, who’d been forced to defend his friend because of her.
All through the evening meal and the long hours of the night it stayed with her. She could think of nothing else.
It was wrong. The word echoed over and over in her head no matter what she tried to do. Eventually the voice grew too loud to ignore. Sometime in the small hours of the night, she rose from bed, donned a pair of slippers and a dark hooded cloak, and slipped out of her chamber. She didn’t know whether she could do anything, but she knew she had to try.
This was partially her fault, and rightly or wrongly, if she didn’t do something, she would feel responsible for the deaths of those men for the rest of her life.
