It was just another evening in a long line of evenings that had made up the unspectacular life of Maitland de Ryes Bowlin. Sitting atop the little gray palfrey, it was a rare time that she was actually riding the beast because it was so old. The little creature got tired easily if it had to carry Maitland’s insignificant weight, but even so, she’d kept off the animal for the most part and had practically walked all the way from Newcastle.
But she hadn’t minded, in truth. The weather had been excellent, so excellent that she and her traveling companion, Tibelda, had made excellent time between walking and riding the ancient palfreys that had been provided to them by the diocese in Newcastle. In fact, everything they had was donated–horses, clothing, traveling bag. All of it had come from church donations and had, at one time, been fine in their original states. The little horses had once been quite strong and pretty, the satchels had been excellently crafted, and the clothing had been draped across the frames of rich women.
But now, everything was worn and threadbare, yet serviceable. They were grateful for it.
The two Beguines had taken the road north from Newcastle, a smaller road that navigated between the larger road to the east along the coast, and the still-larger road further off to the west that carved through the middle of Northumberland and headed straight up into Scotland. The road Maitland and her companion had taken snaked up through some remote lands and through a chain of unremarkable villages until it reached the village of Coldstream, which was just to the east of Wark Castle.
Even now, as the colors of sunset deepened, Maitland could see the big walls of Wark Castle off to the west. In fact, as they drew closer, the gray stone walls were silhouetted against the sky, and with the shadows, the place appeared a lovely shade of purple. It was fascinating. The sun was sinking and the land was darkening, and Maitland and her companion pushed their little horses as fast as they could go, making their way to the castle just as an enormous party with hundreds of armed men and a big, fortified carriage entered the gatehouse.
The ladies waited until the entire party passed through the rather large gatehouse with a small portcullised opening. It meant that only two or three mounted men at a time could pass through. Having fostered at Alnwick years ago, Maitland knew something of castles, of their size and importance, and she’d always been fascinated by the military aspects of them. It was one of her many interests which her late husband had not appreciated. To him, a woman should only have womanlyinterests, one issue between them in a long line of issues that had gone from bad to worse before his untimely death.
She tried hard not to think of Henry these days.
The gate guards gave her their attention after the enormous party passed through, and she and her companion were taken to the guard chamber just inside the portcullis while someone took their palfreys to the stables and yet someone else went in search of her brother, Desmond. That was the entire reason Maitland had come to Wark Castle– to see the brother she’d not seen in a couple of years, at least. Not since her husband’s burial, where he’d tried not to show too much joy in it. But Maitland knew; she’d always known what Desmond thought of Henry Bowlin.
Death was his preference for the man.
In truth, Desmond was some time in coming because of the big party in the ward. He’d been needed to help settle them, but when he arrived at the guard room, the delight on his face was evident at the sight of his sister. Maitland was lifted right out of the chair and swung around until she ended up kicking a poor soldier who happened to be standing too close.
Desmond only laughed.
“Mae!” he cried, kissing her on the cheek as he set her down. “My God– little Mae! Is it really you? I am not dreaming?”
Maitland shook her head, patting her brother on the cheek. “It is no dream,” she said, her eyes glimmering as she looked at her big, older brother. “Des, life has been good to you. Have you been well?”
He nodded firmly. “Well enough,” he said. “And you? How has it been in Newcastle?”
Maitland shrugged, though she was still smiling. “I have had my work,” she said. “I have led a busy and useful life.”
“You must have if the church is giving you a charity of your own,” he said. “I am very proud of you, Mae. I always knew you would do good for this world.”
She laughed softly. “And just when did you know that?” she asked. “In between pulling my hair and trying to put frogs in my pockets?”
Desmond had a mischievous little grin. “It was fun,” he said simply. “You screamed beautifully.”
“I still do. But if you try your tricks now that I am a grown woman, you shall find that I will retaliate.”
It was his turn to laugh. “I promise, no tricks,” he said. “I am very glad to see you. How long can you stay?”
“Only for the night,” she said. “We must be to Edenside by tomorrow. It is not far away, is it?”
Desmond shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “In fact, it will be a half-day’s ride at most. I am very happy because now you will be close to me. We can see each other all of the time.”
Maitland looped her arm through his. “You can come and visit me,” she said. “But for now, we are weary and require something to eat. Do you have a place where my companion and I may rest?”
She was indicating Tibelda, who nodded shortly when Desmond glanced at her. She was older, rounder, and with a big, red nose. He returned his attention to the much more pleasant sight of his sister.
“Of course,” he said. “Come with me now. I shall show you where you may sleep tonight.”
With her satchel in one hand and her other hand gripping her brother’s elbow, Maitland followed Desmond as he led her and Tibelda out of the guard room and into the bailey beyond. It was still crowded, but the majority of the large party had disbanded. Maitland looked at the men and their banners with interest.
“I have seen those red and yellow banners, I think,” she said to her brother. “Who has come?”
Desmond eyed the escort. “The Earl of Northumbria, Edmund de Vauden, from Kyloe Castle,” he said. “But some ofthe crowd in the bailey is still part of the de Wolfe escort that arrived about an hour ago. You did not see them on the road?”
Maitland shook her head. “We did not see anyone at all.”
“Which way did you come?”
