The jeweller took the brooch and wrapped it gently in a piece of material before slipping it into a leather pouch. With a simpering smile, he gave the pouch to the customer.
“Only one thing remains, my lord.”
“Yes,” said Aubrey happily. “I must present the gift to the lady for whom it was fashioned.”
“I trust that your wife will be satisfied with it.”
“Have no qualms on that score.”
He turned to go but the jeweller shuffled after him.
“My lord …”
“What is it now?”
“There is the small matter of payment.”
“The price was agreed beforehand, was it not?”
“It was indeed.”
“And my credit is good, I believe?”
“Above reproach, my lord.”
“Then why this unseemly rush?” said Aubrey fussily. “I will acquaint my steward with the nature of this transaction and he will bring the money accordingly.”
“When might that be?” asked the other tentatively.
“Soon, my friend. Very soon.”
Aubrey Maminot swept out of the shop with his golden lion. He felt that it was a gift that would melt any woman’s heart and he was anxious to bestow it on the recipient at once but another priority called.
Word reached him that his guests would be entering the city within the hour. It was vital to be at the castle to welcome them. Putting the brooch in his purse, he mounted his horse and cut a path through the jostling crowds.
Long before they reached York, they saw it beckoning to them on the horizon. Its sheer size and solidity were reassuring to travellers who had been on the road for two days without seeing anything larger than a village. The two castles rose above the city walls to guarantee their safety and, as they rode ever closer, they could pick out the soaring grandeur of York Minster. Canon Hubert’s heart lifted at the sight and Brother Simon-still riding at the rear of the column in order to be at the furthest point from what he saw as the contaminating presence of an immoral woman-sent up a silent prayer of thanks and consoled himself with the thought that he could cleanse himself in the spiritual haven ahead of them.
Ralph Delchard was in a sombre mood. His search for the horse thieves had been fruitless and daylight brought no comfort. It was a grim ride north for him. Over fifteen years after his last visit to Yorkshire, the county still bore marks of the devastation inflicted upon it.
When Ralph saw the scarred landscape, the undernourished livestock and the pitiful remains of abandoned hovels, his guilt stirred again. A whole generation had suffered in the wake of the sustained destruc-tion in which he had taken part.
What troubled his conscience most was the sight of the people themselves, living reminders of a past that they would never outrun. Proud of their Anglo-Danish heritage, they saw the Normans as cruel usurpers.
As the long cavalcade of armed soldiers wended its way to York, everyone in the fields looked up at it with the resentment of the vanquished and the resignation of the forlorn.
Seated beside him on her palfrey, Golde grew weary of his brooding silence. They were riding a few yards ahead of the following column and thus had a small measure of privacy. She decided to use it in order to separate Ralph from his recriminations.
“There is no point in dwelling on it,” she said.
“On what?”
“The past.”
“Is that what I am doing?”
“Your face was not designed for deception.”
A little smile. “Can you read it so easily?”
“Easily but not happily,” said Golde. “There is no pleasure for me in travelling beside your distant memories.”
“They are not distant,” explained Ralph, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. “When I gaze around, those memories are fresh and immediate. As if it all happened yesterday.”
“But it did not.”
“My brain tells me that but my eyes contradict it.”
“Then shut them,” she said testily. “If we all let the past drag us down, we might just as well not be alive. This is not the only place to feel the might of the Normans. My own county of Herefordshire suffered dreadfully at your hands.”
“Not to the same extent.”
“That is beside the point, Ralph.”
“Is it?” he said, taken aback by the astringency in her tone. “Why do you upbraid me thus?”
“Because you deserve it. I respect your right to feel guilty about your part in what happened here all those years ago but that does not mean you can burden me with your morbid recollections. We must shake off the past, Ralph.”
“How can I when it is all around me?”
“By exerting more willpower. As I have had to do.”
“You, Golde?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I do not see how you come into this argument.”
“That is because you are too bound up in your own concerns,” she scolded. “Have you forgotten what I am? And where I lived? I am the daughter of a Saxon thegn. I was born and brought up in a county that was overrun by Norman soldiers. Yet here I am, riding alongside one of those same invaders, instead of staying at home to revile him and his whole race.”
Ralph was stunned. “Golde, what are you saying?”
“You are one of the conquerors and I am one of the victims. That is naked fact. If I let the events of the past dictate my life, then I would not allow you near me, still less welcome your embraces in my bed.”
“You swore that you loved me.”
“Why, so I do,” she said earnestly, “and I foolishly hoped that you were likewise prompted by the heart.”
“I was, Golde! I still am!”
“Then why do you hurt my feelings so?”
He was perplexed. “Have I done that?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“How?”
“By harping on about your uneasy conscience as if it is the only thing that matters. Put yourself in my position for a moment. Imagine that you are enduring the miseries of travel to be with the person you love. What would you think if that person became so wrapped up in his memories that you were completely ignored?” Her cheeks were aflame now. “Why did you invite me on this journey, Ralph? To lie beside you at night to keep loneliness at bay? Is that my sole purpose?”
“No!”
“Then what am I doing here?”
He bit back a reply. Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself. No woman had ever chastised him so openly and it had caught him on the raw. At the same time, he came to see that he had given Golde just cause for her anger. He had been moody and preoccupied all morning. She had received little courtesy and even less consideration.
“You are right to chide me, my love,” he said.
“I hate myself for having to do it.”
“Blunt speech is what I deserved.”
“It made me sound like a fishwife.”
“I was too distracted by self-affairs,” he admitted. “I can only beg your forgiveness.”
“It is yours,” she said, touching his arm.
“The events of last night are partly to blame. They left me tired and seething with frustration.”
She stifled a grin. “I noticed.”
“We searched in vain for hours for those foul villains who stole our horses. I do not like to fail, Golde. It was very painful to have to call off the search.”
“You came back safely, that is the important thing.”
“It is not,” he argued. “Finding those outlaws was far more important. Yet we could not. That grieves me. I lost five horses and all our provisions.”
“What about me?”
“You?”
“Yes, Ralph,” she said. “You are thinking only of yourself again. All you lost in those packs were some supplies but my apparel was also carried by the sumpter-horses. Those men made off with my entire wardrobe.”
“Dear God! So they did.”
“What will they think of me in York if all I wear are these mean travelling clothes?”
“The loss will be repaired at once!” decided Ralph. “The city will have tailors enough to dance to your whims. Order what you wish. My purse is at your command.” A new zest had come into his voice. “Why do we amble when we should make speed? Onwards!”