The aroma of fresh water mingled with salt water and sweet, wet, sand invaded the hurling contraption. They must be near Paston castle. The castle was a short walk to Southampton. Aunt Rachel would soon be within walking distance! Lydia's heart beat faster. Aunt Rachel would know what she should do. The horses's hooves hit gravel. There was the screeching sound and then the banging of iron against stone. The carriage passed through what must be the castle wall. Torch light flickered beyond the windows. James shouted, "Whoa!" The horses stopped with a jerk. The carriage swayed when James jumped down. Dame Paston and Old Bess both woke up. Precious, who had not slept rose to his feet and stared at the door. It popped open. James helped Dame Paston and Old Bess down. Lydia forgot she was a boy, but James did not. He did not take her hand and help her down, instead he cut his eyes to the ground. Embarrassed Lydia stepped out on her own.

Dame Paston said, “James, go notify Brother Matthew that my angel has arrived.”

“But it is very late Ma’am.”

"Yes, indeed it is. It can wait till morning." She yawned hugely.

A stable boy appeared out of the dark and took the horses' reigns. To James. he said, "Your moder told me to tell ye to go to the kitchen."

A manservant opened the castle's ornate wooden door and escorted Dame Paston and Old Bess inside.

James said to Lydia, "Come with me. Your are hungry no doubt."

They walked around to the back entrance. The castle, illuminated by torchlight, looked like a huge granite tree stump. Its narrow deep windows contained blown glass panes. Lydia saw her own reflection from foot to hat in the wavy glass. With her close cropped hair and shapeless clothes, she did look like a boy. An odd sensation passed through her. James lead her to the servant door and into the kitchen. A thin woman with a kind smile stirred a pot of something at the hearth. She asked, "And who might this be?"

James said, "Dame Paston believes this is her angel."

The woman's expression instantly changed. All kindness was wiped from her features. "Oh, good Lord. That woman. Now she is gunna have you off to Rome. James, I dunna like it. I dunna like it at all. She riskin' the life of my only son to save the soul of her dead one. A son, who was not good or kind or worthy of your life." A bite of fury was in her last words.

"I must do her bidding. I am honor bound. Have some faith Moder."

"Faith, aye, there is a difference between honest faith and utter stupidity. She bought a bishop, she will buy Pope Boniface, too I wager. Bribery is not likely to get ANYONE'S soul into heaven-" The woman cut her sentence short and stared at Lydia. She asked, "Do you have a name?"

Before she could answer, James said, "His name is Luke."

"Face looks a bit familiar to me. Where did you find him?"

"Traveling along the road. The Dame took a fancy to him, what was I to do? Moder he is tired and hungry. Will you not feed him?"

"Of course I will. Sit yourselves down. Brother Matthew will be happy about this turn of events but his moder will not."

The lamb stew was good and warm, but Lydia found her appetite lacking. Truth was she did not want to go to Rome. She wanted Aunt Rachel. She wanted Aunt Rachel terribly. After they finished their stew James, with candle in hand, took her to his room off the kitchen. He sat the candle down on a carved chest. On the chest was a framed drawing of a young woman's face. There was fire and determination in her expression. Lydia wondered who's she was, but did not ask.

Against the wall was a straw mattress on the floor. Surely James did not expect her to share his bed with her. He said, "The bed is yours. I have some matters to attend to." He bowed to her and left the tiny room.

Cold crept into the room from the shuttered window. Lydia went to it and tried it. The shudders swung open. The icy night air swept through the uncovered window. Stars peeked through dark, torn clouds. The music of th River Test filled her ears. It was a sound she had missed. She looked around the yard. She could see the garden, the chicken coops, the barns, stables and a bunch of beehives. The wall was high, but there was an oak tree in one corner. That would be her best escape route. She checked her bag with its box of candles, she put her writing stuff and the sprig of church yard yew Old Kate had given her into it. She had no food, but that was not necessary. She would soon be in Aunt Rachel's kitchen.

Lydia leveled herself on the window ledge and put out a cautious toe. Her toe made contact with frozen ground.Slowly, cautiously, she crossed the yard. When she reached the wall looked much higher than it had from the window. Would she be able to breech this fortress after all? She had heard stories about how men had fought here defending this wall. Men had died. All at once the yard seemed inhabited by ghosts. Lydia chided herself for her over active imagination and grabbed the oak's lowest branch. She was half way up the tree when a voice asked, “Going somewhere?”

Lydia looked down. It was James. Blast it all. What to do? She could keep climbing, but he would only follow her. She was the Dame's prize and he would not let her get away. "I want to see my Aunt Rachel. I do not want to go to Rome."

“Please, come down. It is too cold to go anywhere.”

"I want to see Aunt Rachel."

"There is something I must tell you." A note of sympathy crept into James's voice. It set off alarms in Lydia's mind. He continued, "Miss Wade I am sorry to tell you your aunt died a fortnight ago.”

Though his words reached Lydia’s ears they did not penetrated her brain. Stupidly she asked, “What?”

“I am sorry but your aunt has passed.”

“No, no. You must be mistaken. Aunt Rachel is strong. Like me, she never gets sick”

"During the pox she worked hard for the poor, I fear she wore herself out and the pox took her."

This was impossible. No wonder Fader had come looking for her. An ache as large as the one she had felt the night her mother died opened up inside of her. Though she knew James was holding out his arms waiting to assist her down, she did not accept his assistance. When she was on the ground again she looked up into his shadowed face. In a small voice she asked, "Old Kate, is she still living?"

"Aye, she moved in with her brother after you disappeared. He has a farm outside of Dorset. For some reason she took a woman named Hagar and her multitude of daughters with her."

James knew about Fader's concubine and her half sisters. What else did James know? He said, "Come back inside, please."

Reluctantly, she followed him to the castle.

*

The next morning Lydia found herself seated at a long dining table. A huge platter of meat and fried eggs sat between her and Dame Paston. There was a rustling of heavy silks. Lady Bolton seemed to float into the room wrapped in thick shawl of the fine pale blue wool. She kissed Dame Paston on the cheek and took the chair beside her.

The serving girl asked Lady Bolton, “Will Lord Paston be joining us this morning?”

Lady Bolton, said, “No. ”

“I will notify the kitchen.” The serving girl left.

Dame Paston said, "Oh Marianne, meet my Angel, Luke."

Lady Bolton, turned her attention to Lydia. Her eyes were the same color as her shawl, a most unusual shade. She had, what Old Kate called changlring eyes, eyes that reflected whatever color she wore.Those eyes held Lydia fast. They told her Lady Bolton knew who she was, and what she was about. To Dame Paston Lady Bolton asked, “Have you told Master Luke the fee you will pay him?"

Fee? So, like the bishop, she was to be bought too. And what would her price be? She might die on the journey, if she was lucky. In the back of her mind a thought suddenly flickered. Money, her own money. Why with money, as Luke, she could open her own candle shop. Dame Paston would surely pay her angel well.

Dame Paston exclaimed, "O, my goodness Marianne. I have no head for details. Luke you will be paid a hundred gold once you reach Saint Peter's. You can come back with James and Brother Matthew, or stay where ever you like once you receive Pope Boniface's absolution for my dear George."

So she did intend to bribe the Pope. This was a fine business indeed. Lydia knew her soul was at risk. Perhaps at the end of this bizarre affair, she could seek her own absolution and gain heaven. Moder was there for sure, Aunt Rachel, that was uncertain. She must pray for Aunt Rachel's soul and her own.

In a pitiful, yet dramatic voice, Dame Paston pleaded, "Please tell me Luke, what you have decided."

Did she really have a choice? No. She turned from the force of Lady Bolton's gaze and looked at the dame. In a firm voice she said, "Aye, I will go."

Dame Paston clapped her chubby hands together. "Oh this is indeed the finest morning I have known in a long time. Bless you my child. Bless you!" The dame smiled so hugely, Lydia was certain half her face was going to fall off. All at once the dame's countenance changed. She slapped her hand on the table and said, “I shall go too.”

In a patient, but highly amused voice, Lady Bolton said, “You and Geoffrey have been round and round about this. Your health could not stand the trip. James and Brother Matthew will escort your angel boy to Rome. Besides the Bishop has not issued the necessary papers for you to travel.”

Dame Paston’s face turned red. She banged her fist on the table. “You, shall not tell me what to do. And papers be damned. Once I rode in the Crusades with Queen Eleanor. What times we had. I will not be denied this adventure. I am going on this trip and no one can stop me.”

Lydia watched Lady Bolton’s face. She did not return Dame Paston's anger, instead, she softly said, “In my condition, I need you here with me. The trip might take longer than we anticipate. What if you missed the birth of your first grandchild?”

Grandchild! What! Had she wed Lord Geoffrey Paston? Apparently, and now they had a child on the way! Lady Bolton, now Lady Paston, had been a very busy young woman in Lydia's absence.

The anger left Dame Paston's face. She smiled at her daughter-in-law and said, "No, I do not want to miss the birth of my first grandchild. As handsome as Geoffrey is, I do hope the baby favors George."

Smiling like a satisfied barn cat who had just made a kill, Lady Paston said, "Yes, I hope so too."