Free The Assassin's Wife by Moonyeen Blakey Page B

taunted the heckler. “Young Edward of March knelt down before his soldiers and begged God for guidance.” She shouted above the noise, crossing herself elaborately. “Isn’t that proof of the lad’s piety? I tell you, he’s been chosen for great things.” She threw back her head as if to challenge all disbelievers.
    “Come on, Nan.” Harry’s arm circled my shoulder protectively, steering me unwillingly from the roars of outrage. “We’ll be late with the deliveries.”  
    “One minute people shouted for King Henry and the next for Edward of York.” I spilled my news to Big Hal that afternoon, breathless with excitement.  
    His eyes twinkled at my enthusiasm. “Don’t pay too much heed. Maud Attemore likes to amuse folk with these stories. But what does it matter? Whoever’s in charge, the poor will still be poor.” He tugged my long braid mischievously. “And the nobles will ride rough-shod over all of us as usual!”
    But by March, this Edward was being hailed as king and I was afraid to go to sleep.  

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
     
     
    “What’s wrong, Nan?” Harry watched me load my basket with warm loaves. “You’re not yourself these days. You’ve lost your smile and you look tired and pale.”
    I kept my head down. “I’m not sleeping well.” I ached to confide and wondered how much he really knew of my history.
    “Why’s that?”
    “Sometimes I wonder what’s going to happen to me.” I trailed over the words and scuffed my feet in the dust. “Now Judith and Meg are settled, Aunt Grace’s discussing suitors for Sarah.” I didn’t mention my lack of dowry. Girls without dowries ended up as servants or nuns. I didn’t want to be a nun, but Mistress Evans’s warning, “Beware the nun,” haunted me.  
    Harry laughed. “Oh, some handsome tradesman will sweep you off your feet! Is that what you’re worried about? You maids are all the same.” He tweaked my nose. “My mother says you’ll make an excellent wife and you’re pretty as a princess.”
    I smiled wanly but I didn’t dare ask him who’d want a penniless maid? Nor did I mention I’d overheard them saying my mother planned to remarry.
    “That’s better. When you smile you melt people’s hearts.” He grinned. “Then they put money in my father’s purse. We need your smiles, Mistress Nan.”
    How could I stop myself from returning the grin? Harry knew how much I loved him. I didn’t want to think about my mother or who she might marry. He and his parents were my family now.
    “Is this an arrow-graze?” I touched the puckered skin on his cheek, just below the bone, my heart beating fast.
    “It is. How did you know that?” His eyes glinted. Dusting crumbs from his russet tunic, he drew himself up proudly. “When I was twelve, I was sent to help my Uncle Robert at his tavern in St Albans, and got caught up in a skirmish between the Duke of Warwick’s men and the Duke of Somerset—”
    “The inn sign has a castle painted on it,” I said. My head filled with a rush of images. “Soldiers crash through the streets and some are tearing down the houses. There’s an abbey and a barricade. Archers rain arrows and you drop your basket of pies. They burst open like ripe pods and a skinny cat licks up the gravy. Someone shouts for the king and men hammer on the inn door. A knight appears brandishing a sword and four rogues fall under his attack. But another knight in a scarlet tunic with the badge of a bear on it lifts an axe and fells him. Blood spurts from his throat—”
    Astonished by this great welter of words, Harry grasped my hand. “My mother mentioned fortune-telling,” he breathed. “But I never thought—”
    “I hate it,” I replied fiercely. The pictures splintered like shattered glass.
    Harry’s eyes filled with questions reminding me suddenly of Brother Brian. Tears stung, forcing me to turn away.
    “Why, Nan, what is it?” Harry slid a brotherly arm about my shoulders—a