Elizabeth of Rosepath: A Gripping Medieval Saga: The Book of Roses, #1

Prologue

Elizabeth realised far too late that the horse was stolen. She was old enough to work it out by herself, but not wise enough to have seen it coming. The lean palfrey they'd been keeping in the meadow was Sir Luke's. He had to be. He was far too large and well-kept to belong to anyone but a knight. At least, he had been well-kept, before his mane grew ratty and his coat rough from a summer out of stable. Elizabeth felt sorry for the poor thing. He was as obedient as a huntsman's hound and as nimble as a fox, yet here he was, dishevelled and hungry, the grass around his hooves cropped all the way down to the earth.

Sam shoved the sack of oats into her arms. The weight of it made her shoulders sag as she shifted her grip to avoid touching the patch of mud on the bottom.

You do it, Elizabeth complained. It's too heavy for me.

You're only going a few steps with it. Go on, he likes you more.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at her half-brother and shuffled forward. The horse tugged against the rope tethering him to a low oak branch, his muzzle dipping inquisitively toward the sack.

Don't give him all of it, Sam said. We need those oats to last.

Liz pulled the sack away and scooped out a handful of oats. Even though she was annoyed with Sam, the tickle of the horse's tongue on her palm made her smile.

Where did you get a whole sack? she asked.

Never you mind. If I bring it back to the house, will you put it somewhere Mother won't notice?

Elizabeth nodded. She'd taken over most of the housekeeping after Sam left home, not that they had much of a house to keep. Mother was always busy working with the castle servants or spending time at the public house across the street. She wouldn't notice an extra sack.

Elizabeth scooped out another handful of oats. Can we ride him today?

Not today. It'll be too late by the time I get back. Sam reached up to check the horse's tether. He was about five years older than Elizabeth, either seventeen or eighteen–neither of them could remember exactly which–and much taller than her. Folk rarely took them for siblings, for Elizabeth's blonde colouring and youthfully pudgy face echoed nothing of Sam's sharp adolescent features and messy brown hair.

She finished feeding the horse and tied up the sack. It made her sad to push the animal's head down when he tried to nibble at the string. They couldn't keep him here forever.

Sir Luke's in the village today, she told her brother.

Sam frowned. In Rosepath?

This is his horse, isn't it? What'll he do if he finds out you took it?

Whip me to death, I suppose.

Elizabeth swallowed uncomfortably. She'd seen thieves get whipped in public. Last winter, Count Leo had old Steve Pedlar flogged for stealing from the castle. He'd left a trail of blood all the way across the marketplace when he staggered home. Three days later, when someone finally went to check on him, they'd found him dead in his cot.

You have to take him back to the stable.

I can't. Sam bent down to take the sack. He slung it easily over his shoulder and put his arm around her. Someone'll notice. And you won't be able to ride him anymore.

I don't want you to get in trouble.

You'll never get a chance like this again, Liz. Folk like us don't get to ride fine horses.

I will one day. I'll work hard and save all my money.

Sam smirked and shook his head. We're poor as dirt. Most serfs have it better. At least they've got their lords taking care of them. Come on, why are you dawdling?

Elizabeth pulled free of his arm and hung back at the edge of the meadow. Can I stay with the horse for a bit?

Sam shrugged. Go on then. I'll leave the sack behind the woodpile. Make sure you hide it properly when you get home, alright?

Elizabeth nodded. She waited until Sam disappeared into the woods, then hurried back to the oak. She felt stupid. She'd been learning to ride on this horse all summer long, and only now had she put it together that it was stolen. Stupid, silly Sam always pretended he knew what he was doing. He made everything sound fine right until it grew teeth and bit him in the rear. If he'd been able to stay out of trouble, Mother wouldn't have sent him away to be a stable boy for Sir Luke in the first place.

She hopped into the air and grabbed the low oak branch. The horse bumped her with his head, perhaps expecting more oats. Realising that she wouldn't be able to untie the knot while she was dangling like this, Elizabeth swung her leg up onto the branch. The sound of splitting fabric sent a jolt of panic up her spine as the hem of her dress tore. She spat a curse like the ones Count Leo's men used. Mother would be furious. She'd have to borrow some thread from Gilly Tailor and mend it herself that afternoon.

Climbing along the branch, she reached the knotted rope and tried to tug it loose. It was a thick one, the sort they used on boats, Sam said. Elizabeth had never been on a boat, and she had no idea why they needed ropes on them, but she'd taken him at his word.

Stupid Sam, she grumbled, trying in vain to pick the imposing knot apart with her fingernails. The rope had grown stiff and unyielding over the summer, sinking into the branch like twine around dough. You've got to go, Horse, or Sir Luke's going to find you. Or outlaws. Or it'll get cold, and you'll freeze. As sorry as she felt for the animal, it was her brother she was most concerned for. She couldn't tell Mother about this. She couldn't tell anyone. All she could do was set the horse free and hope he found his way home to Sir Luke.

By the time she'd picked a few fibres loose, her fingernails were hurting. At this pace, she'd be here all afternoon. She kept at it a while longer, pursuing her task with the single-minded determination of a child, not stopping to consider that she might have more luck with the knot around the horse's neck instead. What she really needed was a knife. That would make short work of the rope. It would mean another trip to the village and back, but she could make it before dark if she hurried. Mother was never home before sunset.

She climbed back down, this time taking care not to worsen the rip in her dress. It wasn't a terribly long walk from the meadow to Rosepath village, but it was inconvenient. No roads or hunting trails came this way, and the dense woodland meant there were no farms nearby. That was why Sam had picked this spot to hide the horse. Holly pricked Elizabeth's ankles as she walked, twigs scratching her hair and mud sucking at her boots. She couldn't wait until summer hardened up the ground properly again.

The shadows were starting to lengthen by the time she reached the meadows on the northern edge of Rosepath. Her nose tickled with the scent of freshly mown hay. A pair of farmhands were resting against the fence with their scythes, but they paid her no mind as she hurried past. Up ahead, the smooth white walls of Rosepath Castle stood like a mountain peak atop the green hill. That was the home of Count Leo, lord of their estate. If it hadn't been for the castle, most travellers would never have guessed there was a village nestled between the trees at the foot of the hill.

Elizabeth followed the edge of the meadows nearest the forest as she made her way home. There was only one proper street running through Rosepath, but it was a long one, stretching all the way from the castle to the road that cut through the forest on its eastern side. Beyond that, fields and farm buildings populated a stretch of open land in the otherwise densely wooded area. Elizabeth picked her way between yards and woodpiles until she reached her mother's house. Like all the houses on this part of the street, it was a plain, single-roomed dwelling they rented from Count Leo. It wasn't much, but it did have a proper hearth and a solid beaten-earth floor that didn't get soggy when it rained. That was more than could be said of the last house they'd lived in.

Elizabeth found the sack of oats behind the woodpile. She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether they still needed it. They wouldn't have to feed the horse anymore if she set him free. But oats were oats, and a whole sack was too valuable to throw away, even if they were only fit for horses. She could mix them into the pottage to make it go a little further. No one would notice.

She dragged the sack around to the front of the house and untied the piece of rope they used to hold the door shut. She looked up at the castle as she swung the door open, wondering what it would be like to live in a house made of stone. They had doors that locked with keys up at the castle along with wooden staircases and big windows that filled every room with light.

Remembering that she needed to hurry, she dragged the sack into the gloomy hovel and shoved it behind the bed. The fire had almost gone out in her absence, so she stuffed another couple of logs into the hearth, stirred the lukewarm cauldron of pottage, and took their good, sharp knife down from its hiding place atop one of the roof beams.

A shadow darkened the room as someone stepped into the doorway. Elizabeth flinched away instinctively. Taller than the lintel, his shoulders filling the entire frame, stood Sir Luke of Green Grange. He was a good ten years older than Sam, muscular and well-dressed, with oil in his neat beard and a scowl on his face. The only part of him that looked like it belonged in Elizabeth's house was the mud spattered up his fine leather boots.

Is this where Sam lives? he barked at her. His voice was so loud in the quiet house that Elizabeth flinched again.

No.

Well, everyone else on the street says he does, so either they're lying to me or you are.

I'm not. He doesn't live here, Elizabeth said stiffly. He lives in your stable house over in Green Grange.

I'm not in the mood for brats with smart mouths. Who are you? His sister? Where is he?

Elizabeth gave him a surly look. Mother told her not to get on the wrong side of lords, but she didn't like Sir Luke one bit. He was rude, and she wasn't going to be bullied into getting Sam in trouble.

I don't know.

Oh, I think you do. Sir Luke stepped inside and made a grab for her. She darted out of his reach behind the hearth. When he tried to follow, she bolted for the open door, but the knight was faster. His fingers dug into her arm and he shook her fiercely. With a yelp, she tried to swat at him, only to stop herself at the last moment when she realised she still had the knife in her hand. Sir Luke's face twisted with anger when he saw the blade. He grabbed her wrist and bent it back until she dropped the knife with a cry of pain.

Little thieves and thugs in this village, Sir Luke spat. Get outside. I'll have you birched and your brother flogged. He shoved her through the doorway into the street.

Elizabeth's stomach shrivelled with fear. Sir Luke's grip was impossibly tight, and he wasn't letting go. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? She hadn't meant to swing the knife at him. It wasn't her who'd stolen the horse. But none of that seemed to matter. Sir Luke was angry, and when lords got angry, someone paid for it. That was how Sam said it always happened. Elizabeth tried to pull away, but it was no use. Sir Luke yanked her down the street, threatening to trip her if she didn't keep up. Elizabeth saw Gilly Tailor carrying a bale of cloth into her house. She caught the woman's eye and gave her a pleading look.

Why've you got your hands on that girl? Gilly called over. Sir Luke's grip loosened. Elizabeth's hope sparked back to life for a fleeting moment before Gilly saw who she was addressing and dipped her head. Apologies, milord, she mumbled apologetically before shouldering her door open and disappearing inside. Elizabeth's heart sank.

Come on, Sir Luke said, scanning the street as they walked toward the castle. Where's your brother hiding?

I don't know!

If you tell me, I'll let you go and we'll say no more about this. How does that sound?

Elizabeth didn't trust him, but if she didn't say anything he would drag her to the castle and tell Count Leo she'd attacked him with a knife. Then she'd be whipped in the marketplace and bleed to death like Steve Pedlar.

Maybe down by the old gallows, Elizabeth sniffled. We go there sometimes.

Is that where I saw the village children earlier?

Elizabeth shrugged. She and the other youngsters often went to the gallows. They were at the edge of the woods in a secluded spot on the south side of Rosepath. No one had been hanged there in years. The only time the gallows saw use these days was as a stage for performances during festivities.

Sir Luke turned off the street and tugged Elizabeth between the yards until they reached a worn foot trail leading into the forest. This was one of those semi-secretive spots where youngsters could congregate away from the eyes of their elders, distant enough to be inconspicuous, yet not so hidden as to invite suspicion that they were up to no good. As Sir Luke strode forward, Elizabeth heard the sound of laughter. A circle of boys and girls, all between Elizabeth and Sam's age, stood at the far end of the gallows. She thought there were a dozen of them, but she couldn't be sure, for she didn't know exactly how many a dozen meant, only that it was a bit more than ten, which was the number of fingers on her hands.

To her dismay, Sam was with them. He must've stayed behind to gossip with his old friends before running back to Green Grange. As one of the older boys in the group–a grown man, by all standards–he was currently the centre of attention. He leant against the gallows with an easy smile, his eyes on one of the castle servant girls who had pretty freckles and a big chest.

Sam! Sir Luke shouted. Once again his bark provoked a flinch from Elizabeth. His fingers were crushing her flesh into the bone, promising a bad bruise tomorrow.

Sam straightened up and made as if to bolt before the sight of Elizabeth made him hesitate. The others immediately fell silent. Whether they recognised Sir Luke or not, it was plain from his tone and bearing that Sam was in trouble. There was a subtle stir of movement as the circle shifted away from him.

Erring on the side of innocence, Sam smiled and made a bow. Milord.

Where's my horse, Sam?

In the stable with the others.

"My old horse. The good one. The one that went missing. I've heard from three different witnesses this morning that you turned up here at the start of summer on a fine horse you had no business riding. He raised his free hand, punctuating each statement with a vicious jab of his finger. I woke up this morning and heard you'd disappeared again with a sack of oats from the cellar. So don't try and lie to me, you little bastard. Where's my damned horse?"

Excuse me, sir, but I do not think– a girl's voice tried to pipe up from the sidelines, but Sir Luke continued talking over her. The girl wore a fine green dress and her hair was tied up in ribbons. It was Lady Kaylein, Count Leo's daughter. She was out of place amongst the village children, but perhaps she'd come down with the castle servants that day. Despite being the same age as Elizabeth, they'd never spoken. Nobles did not idly mingle with commoners, and Kaylein's father was a frightening man.

Kaylein looked flustered and uncertain when Sir Luke spoke over her. She wasn't used to being ignored. Elizabeth tried to catch her eye.

Milady, she hissed, hoping Sir Luke would ignore her as well. Milady!

Kaylein's eyes flashed in her direction.

Please, fetch your mother, please! Elizabeth begged. He's going to whip me!

Sir Luke shook her by the arm.

Leave her alone, Sam said, taking a step forward.

Come to the castle with me and I will.

Sam hesitated. He'd been summoned to Count Leo's court before, and it had never ended well for him. Elizabeth wished he would just run, but Sam was an idiot. With this many people watching, especially a girl he liked, he was going to do something stupid. If only they would all leave, then he'd have the good sense to run away before something terrible happened.

Come on then, Sir Luke said, flexing his free arm. We'll get this settled one way or another. He carried no weapon, but he was a big man, and knights knew how to fight better than anyone. He would kill Sam if they came to blows.

In desperation, Elizabeth looked to Lady Kaylein once more, but the noblewoman's eyes were fixed on Sir Luke. Everyone expected a fight.

Elizabeth began to scream. She didn't care if she looked like a wailing child. Sam was going to get hurt, and it was better to be humiliated than to get a beating. Sir Luke shook her again, but she only cried harder. She swallowed her snot, trying to make herself sick, and when Sir Luke grabbed her by both shoulders she retched up a mouthful of vomit on his surcoat. He let go of her, recoiling in disgust. Through her tears, Elizabeth saw Lady Kaylein and her maidservant hurrying away. The other youngsters followed like flies scattering from a cowpat. Elizabeth's screaming was going to draw the attention of half the village, then everyone would be in trouble. She wondered whether she was making things worse for herself, but it was too late to worry about that now. She fell to her knees, spat on the grass, and gave her brother an imploring look.

Run away, Sam!

This time he didn't hesitate. With his friends gone, his pride deserted him and he darted into the woods. Sir Luke gave chase, but Elizabeth threw her arms around his leg and made him stumble. The back of his heel struck her mouth. She tasted blood. By the time he shook her loose, Sam was gone.

Sir Luke rounded on Elizabeth. His fist balled up a handful of her dress, popping the seams beneath her arms as he dragged her to her feet.

He'll hang for this, he yelled into her face. Don't you understand the law, you stupid girl? You've made an outlaw of him. He'll never set foot in this village again!

Elizabeth stared at the ground, sucking her cut lip as she wiped her face with the back of a trembling sleeve. She'd never felt more wretched and terrified. Sir Luke was going to have her whipped. She stood there helplessly, thinking she would be an outlaw too if she tried to run away. Sir Luke paced back and forth, wiping his coat with a handful of grass. People started arriving from the village to investigate the commotion. Elizabeth didn't look at them, enduring her shame in silence. Only when a clear, well-spoken voice cut through the hubbub did she jolt upright, shocked out of her misery by the presence of a woman she'd been taught to respect.

Sir Luke? What is all this?

Countess Eleanor, tall and dark-haired, approached the gallows with her daughter Kaylein scurrying behind. Her heavy gown tumbled over the grass in her wake, as thick and opulent as a velvet blanket. Elizabeth sniffed back her tears. Again she tried to catch Kaylein's eye, but the other girl was trying to look anywhere else, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

My lady. Sir Luke bowed. I wouldn't distress you with this unsavoury business. If the count could be found–

My husband is occupied this afternoon. Tell me what is going on.

To Elizabeth, Lady Eleanor looked like one of the saints they had carvings of on church walls. She carried herself with the confidence of a woman who knew the answer to every question in the world. Sir Luke, tall and frightening mere moments ago, suddenly looked young and awkward in her presence.

Of course, he said stiffly. Well, my horse was stolen, you see, by this girl's brother. And when I confronted her about it, she tried to attack me with a knife.

No I didn't! Elizabeth protested. She didn't know if speaking up would help her situation, but she was desperate. If anyone could save her, it was Lady Eleanor. I just had the knife to cut a rope when he came in and grabbed me. I never attacked him!

The countess stared at her. The intensity of her gaze made Elizabeth want to look away, but that was something a guilty person would do.

Your mother washes linens for me, doesn't she?

Yes, milady.

When she isn't bothering men at the public houses.

This time Elizabeth did look away, her cheeks flushing like Kaylein's. She knew what else her mother did for money besides washing. There was a reason she and Sam had never known their fathers.

It's to be expected, Sir Luke said. Now that he'd been cowed by Lady Eleanor, his tone was more subdued, but there was still an imperious quality to it that made Elizabeth feel ashamed. Loose morals tend to run in families. I'll go to the sheriff about my horse, but I still think this girl deserves to be punished.

Quite right, Lady Eleanor said.

Elizabeth's throat tightened with fear. She was going to be whipped.

I never attacked him! I didn't do anything wrong!

A flitter of something that might have been compassion crossed Lady Eleanor's face, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Don't dispute me, girl. You made a mess of Sir Luke's fine coat. If you can make a mess, you can clean one up. You'll come to the castle first thing tomorrow and scrub every step in the south tower. Sir Luke looked like he was about to object, but before he could say anything the countess cut him off. And Count Leo will certainly do all he can to assist the sheriff in tracking down the boy who took your horse, Sir Luke.

Elizabeth might have been young and uneducated, but she had a sharp wit when it came to deciphering how the world worked. While letters and numbers confused her, she recognised an elegant solution to a messy situation when she saw one. It was as clever as the rhyme of a riddle. Lady Eleanor had agreed to punish Elizabeth, but it was no real punishment at all, and Sir Luke would appear ungrateful if he protested. She'd drawn a line under the situation while showing herself to be both merciful and just in front of her subjects.

Thank you, my lady. Sir Luke's forehead dipped in a small bow. Might I trouble your servants for a clean cloth and some warm water?

With the spectacle over, the villagers returned to their work. They would all be talking about Sam for the next few days. Elizabeth was glad she'd be busy washing the tower steps so no one could bother her about it. Mother would be angry, and poor Sam would never be able to come home again, but he hadn't been whipped or hanged, and for that, at least, she was grateful. Elizabeth knew to take her blessings where she could get them.

Before the sun went down, she ran back to the meadow with the knife, hoping she still had time to cut Sir Luke's horse free. When she arrived, she found the meadow empty. The rope dangled loose from the oak branch, a trail of soft hoofprints leading away into the forest. Sam must have taken the horse and run.

Elizabeth walked home. The next day, she got up early and went straight to the castle. By noon, the steps of the south tower were spotless. She sat in the doorway looking out into the bailey, eating a crust of bread given to her by a kindly man-at-arms named Emrick. When Lady Eleanor saw her sitting there, she came over from the stables.

Thank you for yesterday, milady, Elizabeth said, hastily swallowing her mouthful.

You're an impetuous girl, Elizabeth.

Sorry, milady.

Eleanor smiled. That's a quality I rather admire in noblewomen, less so in the daughters of my servants. She looked in through the tower door. Have you finished already?

Elizabeth nodded.

You're a hard worker. I don't suppose you have anything to occupy yourself with besides keeping your mother's house, do you?

Elizabeth shook her head.

Perhaps we can find work for you here at the castle–if you can learn to mind your tongue. Eleanor crouched down so that their eyes were level. Spirit is a fine thing to have, but you must be careful about how you express it. She pointed to Elizabeth's heart. Keep it in there, then she made a pinching motion at her lips, not here.

I will, milady.

Good. Off home with you now.

Elizabeth gathered up her torn dress and hurried back down the hill. Even though she was sad about her brother, the prospect of working at the castle excited her. Perhaps one day soon she would get to see what it was like to live in a house where the walls were stone, the rooms had windows, and the floor never got wet when it rained.

Chapter 1

It was the twenty-first year of King Ralf's reign, Elizabeth was just shy of eighteen, and today she was going to buy her house. While the villagers were organising the marketplace for the first spring fair, Elizabeth took a candle and a trowel into the cellar of the south tower and began digging. She knew the spot. It was right beneath the stairs she'd scrubbed for Lady Eleanor four and a half years ago; the stairs that had led to her getting her job as a maid two years later.

Not being a family of means, Elizabeth and her mother had never had a safe place to store money. Most people buried it beneath their houses. Elizabeth's mother had gone one step further and buried hers beneath the castle, in this old, damp cellar that had never been finished and nobody used. It was a good hiding spot. Elizabeth's fingers found the rotting leather bag and dragged it out of the soil beneath a loose floor stone. The silver coins inside had lost their lustre, but their weight was an easy match for the pennies Elizabeth had saved in her money belt. She could barely contain her swell of excitement as she poured the contents into her belt and buckled it up. It would be awkward carrying the money around all day, but nobody was going to rob her here in the castle. She would go straight to Count Leo's steward the moment Lady Eleanor dismissed her that evening and buy her house. This time tomorrow, it would be all hers. It was a tiny, almost insignificant holding to the nobles, but to Elizabeth, it was everything. Her mother had lived her whole life in the shadow of fickle landlords, and it had driven her into an early grave at the age of thirty-eight–just a few weeks before Elizabeth got her job at the castle. She was sad her mother hadn't lived to see her make something of herself. Then again, had it not been for her death, Lady Eleanor might never have remembered the teenage girl in the torn dress who'd once done such a fine job scrubbing the tower steps.

Elizabeth was determined not to go the same way as her mother. Her small house wasn't much, but it would be a start. She was cleverer than most people took her for, and she reckoned that without the need to pay rent to Count Leo, her current wages would make her a well-off woman by the time she was twenty. That day still seemed a long way off, but the thought of being able to buy a riding horse, a pen full of livestock, or a plot of land in one of the neighbouring dales filled her with hope. If she had to keep paying rent, she would be little richer than a serf all her life, but that would begin to change once she had a house of her own. She was lucky to have found such gainful employment. Lady Eleanor was a fair, even generous mistress, and she ran her household with a lighter touch than her husband. According to Emrick Marshal, old knights like Count Leo grew irritable in times of peace. Elizabeth did her best to stay out of his way.

It was cold down in the tower cellar, but Elizabeth had brought a padded vest to wear over her simple linen dress so she could stay warm. Securing her money belt beneath her clothing, she laced up the garment and climbed back upstairs. She'd made a mess of herself digging in the dirt. Once she'd brushed off the worst of the mud and scoured her hands with sand from a cleaning bucket, she opened the tower door and went outside. A smile filled her lips as the bright spring sunlight fell upon her. She'd grown into a fair-featured girl with a head of hair the colour of dappled straw. Worn loose, it was long enough to fall halfway to her waist, but she preferred to keep it tied back in a rough knot when she was working. Lady Eleanor told her she would make a fine wife for a merchant or a tradesman someday–which was really just her way of reminding a servant girl not to make eyes at either of her sons. Scandal had already threatened to grip the household a year ago when Hugh, the eldest of the Rosepath heirs, told one of the kitchen girls he intended to marry her. Count Leo had put a swift stop to that, and the girl had been dismissed from the castle shortly thereafter.

Rosepath Castle held a quaintly decorative courtyard green within its walls, built by lords who had prized the aesthetics of a beautiful castle over the practical implications of its construction. Elizabeth passed by the stables, giving old Roy the stable master a wave as she went. At the north end of the bailey stood the ageing keep. A thin moat surrounded it, spanned by a drawbridge that had long since ceased to function. Flowered vines grew up its rusty chains and reeds sprouted from the earth that had been heaped up to support the underside when the wood started cracking. Everyone knew Count Leo hated the impractical moat. According to the histories written by the village monks, it had taken years to build. The water had drained itself away into the hillside a hundred times before the builders found a way to seal it in. It precluded any cellars from being built beneath the keep, and all the outbuildings had to be far away at the other end of the bailey. Count Leo often talked about having it filled in now that the castle had modern walls and gatehouses to defend it, but Lady Eleanor appreciated the moat for its ornamental value if not its military usefulness, and so it remained.

Emrick the castle marshal nodded to Elizabeth on her way into the keep, letting her through without troubling the man-at-arms stationed in the guardroom. Everyone who worked at the castle knew her well by now. It was a source of constant pride to Elizabeth that she could walk straight through the gates as if she belonged there. Even if she was only keeping the chambers clean and the latrines fresh, it was still an honour to be part of such a prestigious household. Her mother would have been proud.

The keep was where Count Leo and his family lived along with a handful of servants and senior officials. Everyone else quartered in the buildings around the bailey or down in the village. Elizabeth sometimes slept on the floor of the castle hall during winter, or when Lady Eleanor kept her working late and she didn't want to walk home in the dark. It was certainly cheaper and more convenient than living by herself, but Elizabeth struggled to give up the memories of Sam and her mother by leaving the last home they'd shared. It was her dream to have her own house, not live in someone else's.

In the fashion of many old buildings, the keep was compact and tightly ordered, with a great hall, storeroom, garrison, latrines, and kitchen space on the ground floor, while the living chambers were upstairs. A short walk through the guardroom–which more often served as an informal parlour and work area for the servants–brought Elizabeth into the boisterous clamour of the great hall. Today it was packed with prominent citizens from the surrounding villages attending Count Leo's court. Elizabeth stayed respectfully out of the way, remaining as inconspicuous as a servant should. She skirted the edge of the hall, avoiding stepping on fur-lined cloaks and expensive leather boots until she caught Lady Eleanor's eye. The countess was standing at the head of the room to the side of her husband's high table, watching and listening without making herself a direct part of the proceedings. While she seldom challenged Count Leo on matters of county governance, she was fiercely protective of life in Rosepath village, as she had demonstrated when she intervened with Sir Luke four years ago. Elizabeth had always admired her for that.

Eleanor did not smile when she saw Elizabeth approach, but women like her rarely did. Without the preamble of a greeting, she beckoned her over and said: You're to take my daughter riding today.

Yes, milady. It was the day of the week Elizabeth looked forward to most. Is she ready to go?

I've not seen her. The girl's probably still in bed. Rouse her if she is, would you?

Elizabeth shot a quick glance at Count Leo through the crowd. The greying, near-bald nobleman looked every bit as fearsome as the day she'd met him. And the count still has no objections to me teaching her, milady?

He can't object to what he doesn't know. Roy can barely ride half a mile before his joints give out these days. You handle a horse more than well enough to teach my daughter.

And you aren't a man. Elizabeth knew that was the unspoken reason Eleanor allowed a maid to instruct Kaylein instead of a trained equestrian. Roy was getting too old, his clumsy apprentice handled horses better than he rode them, and the stable boys were all young, spirited, and unmarried. After what had happened with Hugh, Eleanor wouldn't risk any more of her children inviting scandal into their household. Elizabeth wondered, with a tickle of amusement, whether the countess had possessed a wild streak of her own in her youth. Perhaps that was why she was so cautious with her children. Eleanor's eyes narrowed slightly, and Elizabeth flushed with embarrassment. She always had a way of seeing through her. With a hasty curtsey, Elizabeth excused herself and hurried upstairs.

Lady Kaylein's bedroom was tucked away up a second short flight of steps at the back end of the keep. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the door standing ajar. That meant Kaylein was up and she wouldn't have to suffer through the awkwardness of rousing the young noblewoman from her bed. She liked Kaylein, but there had always been a natural divide between them despite their closeness in age. Elizabeth was a commoner by birth, while Kaylein was the count's daughter. In some ways, Elizabeth felt gravely inferior to her, especially when Kaylein spoke of heady topics like religion and history and matters of state. But at other times, the noble girl seemed shockingly naïve. The concept of paying rent and setting aside money for the winter baffled Kaylein. She abhorred physical work, and despite having taken riding lessons for several months, she still refused to touch a saddle or climb atop her mare without a servant's assistance. Perhaps that was just the way it was when you were a noble.

Elizabeth knocked gingerly on the door and pushed it open. Kaylein was standing at the window brushing the tangles out of her chestnut-coloured hair. She'd chosen to wear a beautiful green gown with yellow trimming that day, every part of it flawlessly tailored to her figure without any bagginess or loose stitching. She looked like a princess from a minstrel's poem, Elizabeth thought with a twinge of envy. She was as beautiful as her mother, and her room, with its lavish tapestries and shelves of books, housed more wealth than Elizabeth would see in her lifetime.

Kaylein turned with a smile and set her brush down before shuttering the window.

Come along, Liz, you're late! I want to ride all the way to the dales today, then I'll need you to wash this dress so that it's fresh for tomorrow.

Of course, milady. They would never have time to reach the dales on the safe route Lady Eleanor allowed them to ride, but Kaylein didn't know that. Travel was another concept that seemed woefully beyond the noblewoman's grasp. Elizabeth had barely seen the edge of their home county, yet she still understood roughly how far a mile was and how wide an acre stretched.

Are you alright riding in that dress? Elizabeth asked. Wouldn't you prefer something more suitable?

No, no, this dress is perfect for the weather today. Have you seen how green the forest looks? Kaylein sighed wistfully. They say there are places in Siraba where the lords build castles made from bricks of green jade. Can you imagine, Liz, not having to live in a keep made from such dreary grey stone? Not having to cover it all up with plaster and horrible flaky paint?

I can't imagine it at all, milady. Elizabeth didn't know what jade was, nor did the idea of living in a castle seem at all dreary to her, regardless of its colour.

They made their way downstairs and exited the keep, crossing the courtyard to the stables where Roy's apprentice had two fine mares waiting for them. Elizabeth's was slightly bigger, for the stable master knew she could handle a larger beast, while Kaylein's was sleek, black, and every bit as beautiful as her. They mounted up and left the castle via the west gate, avoiding the village of Rosepath on the hill's eastern side. Progress was always a little slow as Lady Kaylein fussed over her saddle at the beginning, but soon she settled down and they sped up to a gentle trot. It would be some time before they managed anything faster than that. Kaylein had made steady yet slow progress over the past few months, and she could ride a horse with the daintiness of a noblewoman if not the speed and control Elizabeth was capable of.

Liz, it has always perplexed me, Kaylein said once they were on the forest path. You are of humble birth, are you not? As was your mother? And your father?

I never knew my father, but yes, milady. Serving you is the most noble thing I've ever done.

Well, you ride a horse like a knight! How ever did you learn? You can't have afforded a steed of your own, surely.

Embarrassment warmed Elizabeth's cheeks for the second time that day as she paused to consider her answer. Her money belt jingled beneath her clothing, her horse nickering as the spring sunlight painted dappled shadows over her mane.

It was from my half-brother, Sam.

Kaylein frowned. She looked a lot like her mother when she did that. Oh, yes. I remember him.

He taught me one summer when I was thirteen. I didn't get the chance to ride again till your mother found out I could handle a horse, but I suppose I picked it up quickly. She decided not to remind Kaylein of the incident with Sir Luke, lest she infer exactly whose horse Sam had taught her to ride on.

I wouldn't have thought your brother a man of means. I'd have seen him at court by now if he was, wouldn't I?

He left some years ago, as you might recall. We've not seen each other since. Elizabeth tried not to think about the fact that Sam had probably been hanged or killed by outlaws by now. He'd always been a troublemaker, but he was one of the few close friends she'd ever had. It didn't seem right, what had happened to him.

Has he not come home at all?

No, milady. It was just me and my mother. Then just me.

A quiet moment passed before Kaylein said: I find you to be quite an admirable woman, Elizabeth. It must be very difficult with no husband or family to support you. Her voice held the polite stiffness of a noblewoman who didn't truly understand the hardships she spoke of, but Elizabeth appreciated that she was trying to be kind.

Thank you, milady. Hopefully after today I'll not have to worry so much.

Oh? Kaylein raised her eyebrows anxiously. You're not leaving us, are you? Are you getting married?

No, no. Elizabeth laughed. I've been saving up to buy my house, remember? Well, today's the day I buy it.

Oh, congratulations! Kaylein looked slightly disappointed, as if she'd been expecting something grander. You know, you've been with us for quite some time. I could ask Mother to find proper lodgings at the castle if you don't like sleeping in the hall. Then you wouldn't have to walk up from the village every day.

Elizabeth smiled graciously. It was a generous offer, and it would make her feel very important to have a bed of her own in the servants' dormitory. Had Kaylein made it a year ago, she would have accepted without hesitation, but she had the chance to do something else with her life now. Not many people could say that, least of all women. Most obeyed their parents, married when they were of age, and fell into the family line of work. As the orphaned daughter of a mother with no trade, Elizabeth's future was not written in stone. Living at the castle would be an implicit commitment to a lifetime of servitude. As much as she would have been content with that, she dreamt of being the lady of her own house someday. Not a castle or a manor, but perhaps one of the nice stone buildings owned by the merchants near the marketplace. A little something to call her own. Maybe she would run an inn, or pursue a trade, or marry one of those wealthy merchants Lady Eleanor talked about. Regardless of where she ended up, buying her wooden hovel was the first step down the path of independence.

They rode out of the woods and across a stretch of quiet meadows before turning back at noon. Elizabeth gave Kaylein sparing pointers on how to handle her mare whenever the animal grew irritable or began jostling her. She had learned from experience that it was best to advise the noblewoman only when necessary. Kaylein struggled with instructions sometimes, for she was not used to being told what to do by servants. Elizabeth didn't mind. At least she wasn't like her brothers, who were both aggressive, war-hungry men, already eager for the day their father would let them ride south to the border where they might join a marquess's army and fight foreign heathens. Count Leo's conquests had been legendary in his youth, but more than twenty years of peace had made it difficult for young knights to make names for themselves without seeking danger abroad. Elizabeth didn't understand their appetite for fighting any better than she understood Kaylein's lust for jade-bricked castles.

The journey back to Rosepath was as uneventful as always. No other villages lay on the path they took, and Count Leo prided himself on keeping the nearby forests free of outlaws. He attributed this to his harsh treatment of criminals, but Elizabeth suspected it had more to do with Lady Eleanor's patronage of the village monastery, which prided itself on helping the destitute get back on their feet.

People who have food in their bellies and a place to rest their heads have no incentive to turn to thievery, Eleanor had told her husband one day at court. Leo had countered by pointing out that it was irresponsible to waste money on people who were incapable of providing for themselves, to which his wife rebutted that they could afford to waste money in times of peace. Not wanting to be seen as a greedy miser, Leo conceded the point, though it continued to come up in arguments at the high table. Elizabeth thought her mistress very wise in her ability to match wits with her husband so deftly.

When they came back in through the west gate, Elizabeth pulled her horse up short. An unusual sight greeted them in the middle of the courtyard. A dozen men occupied the green, most of them wearing swords and mail shirts, their horses plodding and stumbling as if they'd galloped for miles.

What in the world are those men doing? Kaylein said, indignant at the mess the horses were making of the grass. Steeds were supposed to be brought to the stables, not led across the well-kept green.

They must be here to see your father, milady. Perhaps it's best we go inside.

Certainly. He'll be very angry at this.

Elizabeth's unease pursued her as she led her mare to the stables. The courtyard was quiet, and the guard stationed outside the keep was clutching the hilt of his sword. The visitors must have been important, or else they would have been denied entry at the gate, but no one seemed willing to approach them. Elizabeth averted her eyes as one of the men leered at her on her way back to the keep. It was a relief when they reached the drawbridge and Emrick Marshal ushered them inside.

In you come, ladies. Best not be wandering about today.

Why not, Emrick? Kaylein asked. Who are those men?

Count Francis of Cairnford and his knights. He pointed to the heraldry worn by several of the horsemen: a yellow hawk embroidered upon red backing. But no one sent word he was on his way.

Oh, yes, I recall him now. Well then, he and his men should be welcomed inside.

They will be, just as soon as your father says so. You never know his temper when it comes to Count Francis. Might be he invites him in for a feast, might be he challenges him to a duel on the green. I've lost track of whether they're friends or foes this year.

Francis! Count Leo's voice bellowed from behind Emrick. He strode across the drawbridge with his arms wide. A middle-aged man with sandy hair stepped forward from the group of horsemen, spreading his arms to return the count's embrace. He was strikingly handsome, but the smile he wore looked stiff and forced.

Elizabeth heard Emrick breathe a sigh of relief.

A feast it is, then. He took his hand off his sword, and Elizabeth finally began to relax. Emrick was a shrewd man. She felt safe trusting his judgement.

Elizabeth wanted to stay and listen to the gruff exchange between the two counts, but she didn't get the chance to catch more than a few words before Kaylein led her inside. They were probably here for an important reason if they'd been unable to send word ahead of time. They'd come dressed for battle. Perhaps there was a war happening? She tried not to worry, for such things were the business of nobles, not servants like her. Wars were fought far away, not here in the heart of the kingdom.

When she came back downstairs with Kaylein's dress she found Count Francis and his men making themselves at home in the great hall. The bustle of townspeople from earlier had given way to the bawdy merrymaking of soldiers. It looked like half of Leo's men-at-arms had joined them, eager to swap stories with knights from the neighbouring county. The man who had leered at Elizabeth earlier gave her a wink as she walked by. Up close, she could see that he was a fresh-faced, friendly-looking boy with dark hair and even darker eyes.

Is your mistress going to keep you busy all day? he asked.

I hope not, Elizabeth said, thinking of the money in her belt. I'm a busy enough woman as it is.

The man laughed. Don't stay busy too long. I might not be here when you get back.

Elizabeth flushed. She knew her way around stable boys and farmer's sons well enough, but not men of nobility. Affecting indifference, she carried on walking and left the great hall, heading out of the castle to take Kaylein's dress down to the laundry house by the river. On her way, she saw Roy Stabler fretting over the holes Count Francis's horses had torn in the grass with their heavy iron shoes. No doubt he'd get the blame for that tomorrow.

The sun was beginning to set by the time she climbed back up the hill with Kaylein's freshly washed dress. The chill of the evening wind caught the sweat on her brow and made her shiver. It was a good thing she'd put on her padded vest that morning. In the distance, she could see fireflies beginning to trail their sparks along the edge of the forest. The public houses in the village would be filling up with farmers and tradesmen filtering in from work. The sound of someone chopping at a tree trunk echoed off the castle walls. Elizabeth began to wonder who could possibly be felling lumber this late, but the thought fled her mind when she remembered that she still had to see the castle steward before he retired for the evening.

She threw Kaylein's sodden dress over her shoulder and picked up her pace. She didn't want to miss her chance and have to wait till tomorrow. It would make her nervous to walk home with so much money in her belt. Rosepath was not a dangerous place, but she'd had drunken men threaten her after dark, and sometimes she noticed signs that other people had been in her house when she returned home from work. Fortunately for her, she kept nothing worth stealing.

The revelry in the keep was in full swing when she returned. The wine was flowing freely, and Count Leo seemed rather drunker than everyone else. Elizabeth wondered whether the young knight from earlier might catch her eye again, but he was engaged in a quiet conversation with Count Francis in a corner. Lady Eleanor beckoned Elizabeth to the high table.

I'll need you to stay and help keep these men fed tonight, then clean up after them when they retire, she added the latter instruction with a touch of exasperation. There'll be a silver penny in it for you. You can ask Daisy to bring a mattress down.

Elizabeth's heart sank. Normally she would have been thrilled at the prospect of earning an extra silver penny; few mistresses rewarded their servants for taking on additional duties. But if Lady Eleanor kept her working all night, she wouldn't have time to see the steward.

The countess seemed to read her thoughts as always. I can't offer you two silver pennies, Elizabeth. Don't worry, they probably won't stay up all night. You can have supper in the kitchen after they're done.

It's not that, milady, it's just that I was hoping to see the steward before he retires. I've been saving up to buy my house, you see, and I have all this money ready. She trailed off in the face of her mistress's piercing stare, feeling foolish for having leapt into her story unprompted. She looked down at the floor sheepishly, then heard Eleanor chuckle.

Go and buy your house, you silly girl. You can come back and tell me all about it. I daresay it'll be more interesting than listening to my husband reminisce about the war all evening.

Elizabeth was so happy she could have hugged Eleanor, but that would have been a step too far. Bursting with excitement, she held out Kaylein's dress with a broad grin on her face. The countess took it and motioned for her to shoo.

Elizabeth all but skipped across the drawbridge, hitching up her dress as she hurried toward the chapel on the eastern wall of the courtyard. The steward always spent the twilight hours of the day in there, preferring to make use of the chaplain's parchment and writing desk in lieu of organising an office in the noisy castle. Elizabeth hurried up the steps, her boots echoing off the stone as she crossed the chapel into its narrow sacristy. The chaplain and the steward were conversing over their desk when Elizabeth came in.

Is it too late for me to buy my deed? she said breathlessly.

The steward smiled and motioned her over. I can write it now if we light a few more candles. Father, do you mind?

The chaplain, Father Gregory, went over to a chest and produced a handful of candles, setting them in a row along the top of the desk as he touched a glowing taper to their wicks one by one.

Elizabeth, Elizabeth, the steward muttered, smoothing down a fresh sheet of parchment and trimming his quill. No family name, was there?

She shook her head.

Elizabeth of Rosepath, then. He paused before his quill touched the parchment. You have the payment, of course? I think we agreed on thirty silver shillings.

Elizabeth nodded and reached beneath her dress to unbuckle her money belt. The chaplain averted his eyes, looking flustered.

There's more than thirty in there, I think, Elizabeth said, feeling a touch foolish for not knowing the exact number. The other servants had taught her how to count well enough to fetch a dozen cups or a score of eggs, but larger numbers remained a mystery to her. That was something she'd have to get better at if she