Chapter One
“He’s been asking questions.” The gruff male voice shattered her moment of peace.
Alicia sighed and pushed aside the meat pie the cook had prepared as part of the evening meal. It smelled wonderful but she just wasn’t hungry.
Being responsible for a castle full of people and all those who lived and worked on the surrounding land was a heavy burden. One Alicia shouldered on a daily basis. It was a point of pride to her that she, a woman, had been able to do so, and well. Food was plentiful and the fields were filled with grain and crops ready to be harvested.
Hawkspoint was also well known for its wool. All the women were involved in the carding, spinning and dying of the wool as well as the weaving. Alicia made sure that they shared in the profits of their labors.
Once in a while, usually late in the evening, she felt the weight of her responsibilities and longed for a respite, longed for a husband to shoulder the bulk of the burden. It was a weakness, one she fought, but it crept up on her some nights, making her melancholy and leaving her yearning for what she’d had.
She turned away from her meal and faced the reality behind her. She knew exactly to whom he was referring. “What kinds of questions?”
Sir William was tall and heavy built. A man of action, he fondled the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist as he spoke. “He spoke with several men in the fields about the harvests, two of my men about the defense of the keep and,” he paused for emphasis, “he asked about the lady of the castle.”
William had been captain of the guard at Hawkspoint for more than a decade and had been staunch in his support of her since she had become lady here. Though his hair was more gray than black and his face lined with many years of living, his eyes and his wits were as sharp as a man half his age.
Alicia nodded. This was exactly as she’d feared. She gave voice to her suspicions. “Do you think he’s a spy?” There was always the possibility that the king or some other noble would come skulking around. Without a strong lord to protect it, Hawkspoint was vulnerable to attack and takeover and they all knew it. It was isolated, but it was also profitable.
“He went to Hawkspoint Abbey.” William leaned closer so as not to be heard by a passing serving wench carrying a jug of ale. “A rider left soon after. Father Edmund confirmed that he himself had written a missive for the man, but he would not reveal the contents.”
Alicia turned her head and stared at the stranger in question. The melodic sound of his psaltery filled the great hall. It was rare that a traveling minstrel graced the isolated castle of Hawkspoint. Perched on the rugged coastline of Cornwall, away from the well-traveled roads, it was left to its own devices. That independence suited all who lived there just fine.
Shrouded in a dark cloak that covered him head to foot, the minstrel looked more specter than musician. He was tall, head and shoulders over most, but he kept to the shadows and preferred his own company. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his voice was a painful rasp. One of the serving girls had glimpsed one side of his face and had told all the others that it was scarred and ruined. Alicia wanted to see for herself the face of this man who made such poignant music, but threatened her peace of mind and the security of Hawkspoint.
The silence was deafening as the last haunting strains of the psaltery died away. Although no words had been sung, the song he coaxed from the strings had been sad and poignant. Alicia shook off her melancholy. She needed her wits about her and she needed to think. The crowd shouted their pleasure but before they could encourage him to play again, Alicia pushed back her chair and bid them all good night, thus bringing an end to the evening.
“Keep a watch on him, William, and let me know if you learn anything more.”
He nodded and gave her a short bow before striding toward the
“He’s been asking questions.” The gruff male voice shattered her moment of peace.
Alicia sighed and pushed aside the meat pie the cook had prepared as part of the evening meal. It smelled wonderful but she just wasn’t hungry.
Being responsible for a castle full of people and all those who lived and worked on the surrounding land was a heavy burden. One Alicia shouldered on a daily basis. It was a point of pride to her that she, a woman, had been able to do so, and well. Food was plentiful and the fields were filled with grain and crops ready to be harvested.
Hawkspoint was also well known for its wool. All the women were involved in the carding, spinning and dying of the wool as well as the weaving. Alicia made sure that they shared in the profits of their labors.
Once in a while, usually late in the evening, she felt the weight of her responsibilities and longed for a respite, longed for a husband to shoulder the bulk of the burden. It was a weakness, one she fought, but it crept up on her some nights, making her melancholy and leaving her yearning for what she’d had.
She turned away from her meal and faced the reality behind her. She knew exactly to whom he was referring. “What kinds of questions?”
Sir William was tall and heavy built. A man of action, he fondled the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist as he spoke. “He spoke with several men in the fields about the harvests, two of my men about the defense of the keep and,” he paused for emphasis, “he asked about the lady of the castle.”
William had been captain of the guard at Hawkspoint for more than a decade and had been staunch in his support of her since she had become lady here. Though his hair was more gray than black and his face lined with many years of living, his eyes and his wits were as sharp as a man half his age.
Alicia nodded. This was exactly as she’d feared. She gave voice to her suspicions. “Do you think he’s a spy?” There was always the possibility that the king or some other noble would come skulking around. Without a strong lord to protect it, Hawkspoint was vulnerable to attack and takeover and they all knew it. It was isolated, but it was also profitable.
“He went to Hawkspoint Abbey.” William leaned closer so as not to be heard by a passing serving wench carrying a jug of ale. “A rider left soon after. Father Edmund confirmed that he himself had written a missive for the man, but he would not reveal the contents.”
Alicia turned her head and stared at the stranger in question. The melodic sound of his psaltery filled the great hall. It was rare that a traveling minstrel graced the isolated castle of Hawkspoint. Perched on the rugged coastline of Cornwall, away from the well-traveled roads, it was left to its own devices. That independence suited all who lived there just fine.
Shrouded in a dark cloak that covered him head to foot, the minstrel looked more specter than musician. He was tall, head and shoulders over most, but he kept to the shadows and preferred his own company. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his voice was a painful rasp. One of the serving girls had glimpsed one side of his face and had told all the others that it was scarred and ruined. Alicia wanted to see for herself the face of this man who made such poignant music, but threatened her peace of mind and the security of Hawkspoint.
The silence was deafening as the last haunting strains of the psaltery died away. Although no words had been sung, the song he coaxed from the strings had been sad and poignant. Alicia shook off her melancholy. She needed her wits about her and she needed to think. The crowd shouted their pleasure but before they could encourage him to play again, Alicia pushed back her chair and bid them all good night, thus bringing an end to the evening.
“Keep a watch on him, William, and let me know if you learn anything more.”
He nodded and gave her a short bow before striding toward the
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