The Traitor's Daughter. Joanna Makepeace
She shrugged helplessly.
“You gave up everything to be with my father in exile, a safe secure home, money sufficient to fill all your needs, everything.”
Cressida smiled fondly. “When you fall in love, Philippa, you will understand that nothing is important save being with the one you love.”
Philippa bit her lip uncertainly. The way matters stood that possibility seemed very far off, if at all.
Her mother suddenly remembered that she had given Peter Fairley no instructions about settling their score. “I should have asked him to settle with the landlord on his way out to the horse coper,” she said. “The sooner we can leave the better.”
A decisive voice from the doorway settled the matter for her. “You need have no doubts on that score, Lady Wroxeter, I have already paid the landlord and the moment your man returns with your mounts we can leave immediately. It will be well to do so since the day promises to be a fine one.”
Sir Rhys Griffith stood poised in the doorway which Peter must have left slightly ajar in his agitation on leaving them.
“I beg pardon for the intrusion, but the door was open sufficiently for me to overhear what you said, my lady. May I come in?” He bowed courteously and Cressida, somewhat startled and flustered, nodded hastily.
“Please do so, Sir Rhys. This chamber is yours, after all, but I cannot allow you to stand our score. We have slept in this chamber, and most comfortably, I thank you, and have eaten two meals. I…”
He had advanced slightly and was regarding Philippa smilingly though he must have seen at once that her manner was somewhat hostile.
“You have no choice, my lady. I have already settled the matter. Under the distressing circumstances of last night it was the least I could do as a gentleman knight and for a neighbour.” He undid the purse suspended from the military-styled leather belt he wore round his waist and proffered a small leather bag to Philippa.
“There, mistress, is the coin that rascally thief stole from your man. I rose early, called on the constable with instructions as to charging the fellow and retrieved your money. You will need it when you arrive at Gretton or later on your journey home. You need not concern yourself about expenses occurred on the way to Gretton Manor since it will be my most pleasurable duty to escort you there.”
Philippa gave a great gasp of shocked surprise and anger. “That will not be necessary, sir. Peter Fairley, my father’s trusty squire, is perfectly capable of seeing us safe to Gretton.”
Her tone was now unmistakably hostile and his dark brows rose in assumed or real astonishment.
“Forgive me, Lady…?” He paused and looked enquiringly at Lady Wroxeter.
“My daughter is Lady Philippa Telford, Sir Rhys, and she owes her safety from molestation and her life to you,” Cressida put in hurriedly. Though she herself was anxious to be free of this man’s presence, she had no wish for Philippa to antagonise him deliberately.
He bowed again, smiling. “Forgive me again, Lady Philippa, but I must point out to you that neither you nor your squire appeared last night to be perfectly capable of protecting yourselves. It is my desire and my bounden duty to provide a suitable escort. Both my cousin David and I are soldier-trained and with your squire, who is too, we should prove a sufficient force to keep off any opportunity-seeking robbers on the road.” He shook his head, gently reproving, “I fear the roads of Wales are no more safe from thieves and outlaws than any other rural community, though preferable in many ways to the hazards of London town or even Ludlow after dark.”
Philippa looked to her mother for support in her rejection of the idea, but Cressida shook her head gently. “We shall be grateful for your continued care of us, Sir Rhys,” she said quietly.
Sir Rhys glanced round the chamber to see if their saddle bags were packed and nodded his satisfaction.
“I will inform your man Peter when he returns with the horses and send him up to you. I should not advise you to come down to the tap room until there is need. The clientele of this place is hardly salubrious, as yesterday’s misadventures bore out.” He bowed again and withdrew.
Philippa said angrily, “Why did you agree to his escort? We do not need or want his company.”
Lady Wroxeter sighed. “I do not see how we could refuse. To do so would only appear ungrateful and incur his displeasure, if not his downright anger. We cannot afford to antagonise the man, not only for our sakes but for those of your grandparents as well. Since he is well aware of our destination he could inform on us after our arrival, so it makes little difference.”
“I would have preferred not to have his company,” Philippa said sulkily and her mother turned on her in sudden irritation.
“You were glad enough of Sir Rhys’s services last night, young lady. Be good enough to acknowledge our debt to him.”
“I doubt if he acknowledges any debt to my father,” Philippa snapped in answer and turned away to see to the final packing.
Philippa was forced to acknowledge Sir Rhys Griffith’s need for caution, however, when they were eventually called downstairs by his squire, who informed them that Peter Fairley had arrived with their horses and his master had declared himself ready to leave. The atmosphere in the tap room was decidedly frosty; the small number of men seated at the ale-spattered tables stared at the women in open hostility and the landlord was surly. Obviously news concerning their imprisoned companion had reached them and the blame for his likely fate placed at the women’s door. Sir Rhys received them cheerily and conducted them to the door with a show of deliberate courtesy. Philippa shivered in spite of herself and was glad of his presence.
Peter had managed to procure an elderly palfrey for Lady Wroxeter and two sturdy Welsh cobs for himself and Philippa. To her irritation, Sir Rhys insisted upon inspecting them before allowing his charges to mount. As if Peter was incapable of judging good horse flesh when he saw it, Philippa fumed inwardly. She watched, frowning, as Sir Rhys ran his hand down the legs of each of the mounts and inspected their chests and mouths. Apparently satisfied, he came back to the waiting group and nodded his approval.
“You have made as good purchases as possible under the circumstances,” he informed Peter.
“If you were not sure of his abilities, you should have accompanied him to the horse coper,” Philippa murmured under her breath and he turned and grinned at her. She was not sure if he had actually heard, but he made no comment.
“It is necessary to have good mounts for our journey,” he explained. “We have almost a hundred miles over undulating country, some of it mountainous.”
Cressida nodded. “I travelled it only once when—when I left England in 1486 and we were somewhat hurried,” she said quickly.”
“I imagine you have not ridden a great deal over the last years?” he enquired.
“No, there has been little opportunity or need,” she agreed.
Peter stepped forward to help his mistress into the saddle and Philippa was chagrined to find Sir Rhys at her side to do a like service for her. She found herself swung up lightly, the touch of his hand gentle yet firm upon her body. Confused by such close contact, she turned and fumbled awkwardly with the reins, only to find them deliberately placed into her hands.
“You are used to riding, Lady Philippa?” he enquired. “If not, you can ride with me.”
“That will certainly not be necessary, sir,” she said coldly. “Though I do not ride often in Malines, my father has been at pains to see that I learned well and had adequate practice.”
“Good. As I said to your mother, we have a hard ride in front of us.”
He stood back to confer with the two men, then gave a signal for all to mount up and swung himself lightly into the saddle of the courser an inn groom held ready for him. He moved his horse beside that of her mother’s as they rode beneath