“Aye, a crenelated castle tower in the center, whereas the wings on either side look more like a dwelling.”
Roland narrowed his eyes at the rotted roof thatch, walls in imminent danger of collapse and piles of broken masonry. “Seriously in need of repair.”
He remembered the opulent house Adelina had lived in on the south coast and his heart went out to her. What must she be feeling?
Fists clenched, Terric growled; no doubt he too was remembering Melton Manor and all they had lost to King John.
When Roland tasted the salty tang of a breeze on his lips, it came to him they weren’t far from the sea, despite the distance they had walked. “We came a roundabout way,” he told Terric. “If I’m not mistaken, the estuary is just beyond the dunes behind the house. “Once we free her…”
His belly roiled when something sharp poked him in the back.
“On yer feet,” a gruff voice commanded. “The pair o’ye.”
* * *
Stunned and disheartened by the dilapidated exterior of the baron’s abode, Adelina hoped the interior would be a different story. When their guides led her, the major and Glenda inside the dark entryway, the odor of animal feces stole her breath away.
The maid kicked aside one or two of the squealing piglets that had come to bid them welcome. Adelina glanced at Mandeville. The stern set of his jaw betrayed his consternation. “Have we entered the wrong building?” she asked, though she had a sinking feeling the pigs always had the run of this abysmal dwelling.
“Where is your master?” the red-faced major demanded of one of the youths who’d guided them.
“Abed,” came the terse reply.
A rotund woman wearing a grease-stained apron waddled out of the shadows and clipped the youth behind the ear. “Off with ye.”
“Aye, Bertha,” he muttered as he fled.
The second youth cowered behind Mandeville.
“Thee’s the wife?” Bertha asked Adelina.
Wrinkling her nose, Adelina took a step back. Either the woman lived with the pigs or she hadn’t bathed in many a year. She looked away when the woman’s unkempt nest of flaming red hair reminded her of the tale of Medusa. Bertha’s malicious gaze could turn anyone to stone.
Mandeville came to Adelina’s rescue. “You should not be addressing Lady Adelina thusly,” he hissed. “She’s to be mistress here.”
The woman gaped before a toothless grin split her fat face. “We’ll see about that,” she replied, eyeing the soldier up and down. “Thee’s a bonny lad.”
The beady eyes were deeply sunk slits in her pudgy face, but Adelina suspected the woman was attempting to flutter her eyelashes. “Has a chamber been prepared for me?” she asked, summoning her courage. If she didn’t impose her rule now…
Bertha fisted her hands on broad hips and scowled. Adelina would not emerge the victor if the looming confrontation came down to fisticuffs.
“This is a disgrace.”
Adelina had never been so glad to hear Glenda’s gruff voice. Her reprimand produced a glimmer of fear on Bertha’s face.
“This place is filthy,” Glenda continued, her nose inches from Bertha’s. “You should be ashamed. Who’s responsible for this mess? I want to see my mistress’ chamber, now.”
Bertha stumbled backwards. “Er…right away,” she babbled, fishing in the pocket of her apron for a large key which she handed to the youth hiding behind the major. “Show her ladyship to the…er…”
Glenda grabbed the key from the gawking youth. “Lead on,” she commanded.
More than grateful for her maid’s intercession, Adelina followed the pair, leaving Mandeville to deal with Bertha.