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“Yes, do you not know that you are in the presence of Lady Rotrind,
daughter of Sir Richard, son of the Duke of Cornwall and Aragon?”
Rotrind demanded angrily, clenching her teeth. She advanced towards the
squires, her hand on the gold pommel of her dagger.
“Sir, and fair lady.” At this the squires kissed Rotrind’s extended hand.
“I bring before you this villain, who is accused of plotting murder against
fair Lady Rotrind, by poison in Lady Rotrind’s wine that was to be put in
by one of his associates (who do not reveal their identities) this evening.
We hope you excuse us for our unseemly interrupting, but it is our duty
to Sir Richard, son of the Duke of Cornwall and Aragon, and our duty to
Lady Rotrind, daughter of Sir Richard, to inform you of this.”
“Has my father been told of this, my men?” Rotrind asked, although
she already knew the answer.
“No. We thought it best to inform you first. You and…er…”
“Master Hurston,” Master Hurston said warmly, taking the squires’
hands and shaking them firmly.
“Well met, Master Hurston.”
“Yes,” Master Hurston replied.
“And may I ask, are you sure that this man is the culprit? Or that there
is even a plot against me? Do you have proof of this all?” Rotrind asked.
“Well…no. Duke Laurence, who is an honorable man and who would
never lie, told us of this. He said that he had seen a message passed
between Merrtont and a person whom he believed to be an old castle
messenger,” one squire, Peter, said.
“Duke Laurence is a shady character and not to be trusted.” Rotrind’s
voice was hard and cold.
“I believe my ears betray me. It sounded like you said that Duke
Laurence is not to be trusted?” the squires said in unison.
“I said that you are not to trust Duke Laurence,” Rotrind said. Even
Master Hurston, who was used to Rotrind’s strange ways, was surprised
and said,
“Seriously, m’lady Rotrind, you cannot mean what you say. The Duke
Laurence is a close friend of your father and he would not lie.”
“Yes, m’lady, listen to sense,” the squires said.
“Duke Laurence hates Master Merrtont! He would try to frame him
for every single thing that goes wrong in the castle. I suspect that Duke
Laurence wrote the letter himself and feigned that it was written by
Master Merrtont. And my father is not to be informed of this. Squires,
you are dismissed. And Master Hurston, you also. And…wait! Swear to
The Triumph of Love
11
me you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. And especially not my
father.”
“As you wish, m’lady,” Master Hurston and the squires hastily left the
room, leaving Rotrind alone. She felt the desire for some warm drink to
soothe her nerves, and rang the bell that summoned Marie, her personal
lady-in-waiting.
“What do you desire, m’lady?” Marie asked.
“Bring some tea to me. Make sure that it is hot. And tell the royal
hostler to saddle and make ready a horse for me.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Marie said, curtsying. In a few minutes, Rotrind’s tea
arrived, steaming hot. Marie tied a rag around the cup so that Rotrind
would not burn her fingers when she held it.
“The hostler has made ready a steed?” Rotrind asked.
“Yes, m’lady. The mount is waiting for you to arrive.”
“Tell Master Wenner that we will have my riding lessons early and take
him to my room.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Marie said, leaving the room. Rotrind took another sip
of tea. Soon Master Wenner arrived. He was a tall, thin man who always
wore a waistcoat under his silk doublet, and though many would find him
too solemn for their tastes, he had a way of explaining things that made
Rotrind feel at ease.
“Welcome, Master Wenner. Please make yourself comfortable,”
Rotrind said. Master Wenner seated himself in the chair that was across
from Rotrind, which was still warm from Master Hurston sitting on it
minutes before.
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