Chapter 23
Olly
Olly woke up aching all over – a pleasant feeling, even if it tempted him to drift back to sleep. Morning light flooded the room, dulled only a little by the weather outside. He wanted to remain here forever.
But no matter what he wanted, the reality was far crueller. Ash extracted himself with reluctance.
‘You know I must speak to Roland today,’ he said. ‘And then I will be yours all night.’
That was a pleasing promise, so Olly allowed Ash to rise from the bed and dress, grumbling all the while.
His departure left Olly and Agnes alone, not that Olly had seen Agnes that morning. It was odd: she appeared to be an early riser, sitting in the hall already by the time Ash and Olly rose with the countenance of one who had been awake for hours.
She was probably still feeling shaken after last night. She had seemed happy enough when he and Ash had retired to bed, but he knew more than anyone that a cheery face could be false.
With little else to do, Olly took himself on another walk of the grounds.
It was never quiet in the keep, not with servants and grooms and soldiers always running about. After two full laps, he decided to head to the gardens. As he made his way inside, he realised that he was not alone. Here, at last, was Agnes: head bent, nestled in the furthest corner of the garden.
‘Good morning.’
Agnes jumped from her skin. ‘Oliver!’
‘How do you feel?’
Agnes was not meeting his eye. Her skin seemed blotchy. ‘Good.’ And then, too late: ‘Thank you.’
‘I am pleased to hear it,’ Olly said.
There was something shuttered about her expression. She was mulling over something. Perhaps she had been avoiding him. Perhaps she had decided that she could not bear his presence after all.
Or … he looked more closely at her face, at her bagged eyes, her messy hair. Perhaps something was troubling her. Olly’s suspicion that Agnes really did harbour feelings for Ash could be correct; it would explain her demeanour.
‘Well, I ought to … that is, I—’ Agnes swallowed heavily. She stood. ‘I shall see you later, Oliver.’
He was right: she didn’t seem like herself. He was determined to discover why, especially if it was his fault. Besides: he had nothing else to do to pass his time, and once again that nagging thought returned: he liked Agnes. He did not want to see her sad.
‘Where are you going this morning?’
Her whole body was stiff. ‘Just for a walk of the grounds.’
‘Lead on, then.’
She hesitated. She did not appear to wish for his company, but neither did she insist he leave her alone.
‘Very well.’
She headed away at speed, leaving Olly to chase after her as she moved towards the fields that lay around the keep in a misshapen patchwork. She did not speak, and once again Olly felt a shadow over them, something she was not saying.
‘Agnes.’
It took a moment for her to respond. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you quite all right? You may tell me to go if you do not wish for company.’
Agnes stopped so suddenly that he walked directly into her.
‘I have a lot on my mind.’
‘Oh … ?’
She looked as if she was about to speak – her lips opening, her eyes downcast. And then she righted herself, returning to that stiff-backed posture.
‘It’s nothing, really.’
Olly decided to ignore the lie. There was no point pressing; she would speak if she was ready, and if she wanted to.
‘How about a challenge?’
That seemed to take her by surprise. ‘A challenge?’
‘Indeed; it can take your mind off whatever is worrying you. And, frankly, I fear I will die from boredom if I do not do something with my time.’
‘What do you intend to challenge me in, then?’
‘I do not care.’ Olly shrugged. ‘Anything.’
Agnes glanced out towards the fields. ‘Archery?’
Olly gasped at her ‘Cruel! I had no idea you were such a cheat. My poor, dear Ash, shackled to one so treacherous.’
Agnes ignored the insults. ‘How so? Are you so bad with a bow?’
‘I am terribly bad with a bow,’ he scoffed. ‘Typically one requires two eyes to fire one with any accuracy.’
Agnes peered at him. He could see her own eyes flicking between his, taking him in. Clearly Ash had not told her of the extent of his injuries: she was surprised. But she was assessing him before saying something foolish.
‘I was not aware,’ she said. ‘That is, I cannot tell at all. Which is it?’
He gestured towards his right eye. ‘No one can tell,’ he said. ‘I am lucky enough, I suppose, that the wound is on the inside. My eye was not plucked from my skull. I was struck in the head.’
‘My God. And you lost your sight?’
‘My hearing too.’
‘How?’
Olly thought on it. ‘Slowly.’
Agnes nodded. ‘Then the bow is unfair.’ She looked out back at the sky. ‘The weather feels as if it is about to turn again regardless.’
‘What do you suggest instead?’
She appeared to be thinking. ‘How are you at chess?’
‘Fairly good.’
‘Excellent. I have needed a suitable opponent.’
‘So I have heard,’ Olly snorted. ‘Shall we make a wager?’
They stepped into pace as they headed back towards the keep. Agnes, Olly could not help but notice, placed herself on his good side.
‘What would you wager?’ she asked. ‘Money?’
‘What use have I for money? Until Ash finds some role and wage for me, he has promised me any I may need. No, it must be something neither of us can gain by other means.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
Olly didn’t even think. He always wagered the same thing.
‘A kiss,’ he said. ‘If I win, you grant me a kiss.’
He was sure that the look of outrage Agnes launched towards him was entirely false.
‘Oliver,’ she gasped. ‘You do understand that I am married to your Lord, yes?’
‘And I am bedding him. I fail to see your point. Call it a kiss of peace, if you like.’
Agnes rolled her eyes. ‘And what are we declaring peace over?’
‘Over Ash, of course.’
‘Do you intend to go to war for him? Against me?’
‘Do you?’
It was a joke, yet tension thrummed between them. And then it snapped as Agnes sighed at him.
‘I harbour no ill will towards you, Oliver. I really do hope you know that. You are good for Ash. You can see it just to look at him when you enter a room. Ash and I began this arrangement with the understanding that it was practical only. And while I—’ Her mouth snapped shut.
Olly raised his eyebrows, but it appeared that she had swallowed whatever she had been intending to say.
‘I am not going to attempt to send you away, or prevent you being with him. I need you to know that.’
Olly stared at her. Her words were tinged with a sadness she was doing her best to bury.
‘I … thank you,’ he said, unsure what else would suffice. ‘Really. I—’ This would not do. This was too close to the wound still threatening to reopen in his gut and spill his insides out. ‘A kiss of agreement, then.’
Agnes laughed through her nose. ‘Very well. A kiss. And if I win?’
‘Then I must give you something. You may have a kiss too, if you like.’
Agnes was staring steadfastly ahead. Olly didn’t know her well enough yet to tell if her thoughtful silence betrayed her shock, or the fact that she was considering it. Her ears were a little pink.
‘If I were to ask for that as a prize,’ she said at last, ‘then there would be no point at all in the challenge. We may as well forgo the chess and go directly to the kiss.’
‘Well, if you insist—’
She raised a hand to silence him, although her expression was amused.
‘I am not sure if you have anything that I want. You certainly have little enough as it is …’
‘Come, tell me what I can do for you. Make it a chore, if you wish; have me cleaning out the kennels or restringing your bow.’
Agnes raised her eyebrows. ‘You are asking me to trust the one-eyed man to string the instrument that requires two eyes to use properly?’
‘You are cruel!’ Olly gasped again. ‘And you very well know, I have two eyes. It is simply that one does not work. Think on it while we walk. Besides: I intend to beat you, so you will never have a chance to demand your prize regardless.’
After retreating inside, it did not take long for the weather to turn. Agnes headed into the common room to set up, while Olly went to find something to eat and drink from the kitchens.
When he returned, she was ready and waiting for him, the board set, her expression confident.
‘You can take the first move,’ she said, as he sat.
Olly was keen to make her regret that.
As they played, it became clear that Agnes’s weeks of playing against Ash had cursed her form. She had grown used to his inability to concentrate, making her either let down her guard or simply not put as much thought into the game as she otherwise might have.
There was an opening; clearly, she had not spotted it, or she would have strengthened her defences. Olly maintained his calm expression and made a move towards her king. Still, she did not notice.
He did enjoy this dance, even if he usually preferred something livelier. He relished the feeling of knowing something that someone else did not: of tricking someone, of having the upper hand. It was why he had done so well as a thief.
It took only a few more moves before he seized his chance. Agnes moved a bishop, and Olly swooped in, taking her king in a quick, easy win.
‘Well done,’ she said, looking mildly surprised.
‘Are you shocked I bested you?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I am, although I am beginning to realise how foolish I was to underestimate you. You are a keen player.’
Olly grinned. ‘What high praise.’
‘You have not been attempting to play with Ash for the past few weeks. He is dreadful. I’ve missed such a strong opponent.’
Olly laughed. Ash could be thoughtful and cautious when he wanted to, but faced with a task he did not enjoy he never had the patience to sit and think. He had been the same as a youth: even simple games of dice would inevitably be lost when Ash became overly bored and under enthusiastic.
‘So.’ Olly stood, as Agnes began to reset the board. ‘I have won.’
‘That you have.’
‘Which means I am owed a prize.’
Agnes gave him a long, searching look, then rose to stand beside him.