Chapter One
Month of May
Callerton Castle, Northumberland
The rattle had come.
That wet, horrific rattle when the lungs are failing and the end of one’s life can be told in weeks, if not days.
It had come for Paulus de Edington as much as he’d been trying to ignore it.
As much as the physic had been attempting to stave it off.
But death was coming, and there was nothing either one of them could do about it.
The time had come.
It was early in the evening of a warm spring day, a faint band of light sitting on the horizon as the sun set in the west. The night itself was shades of blue, all of it fading into black as the stars emerged high above.
In the keep of Callerton Castle, a vigil was taking place as an older man lay upon his messy, smelly bed, his body covered with a rash and a fever ravaging his body.
Beside him stood another man, small and somewhat meek, bearing the robes of a priest. He’d come from a local priory, a poor establishment, but they were a healing order.
He’d come to serve, but it had turned out to be an assignment that would have tested the patience of Job.
He watched the ill-tempered man on the bed suffer, sweating and ill, knowing his prayers would do no good.
At this point, nothing would do any good, short of a miracle.
He was waiting for the man to awaken so he could try to make him more comfortable in his final hours.
It had been a long, hard journey of watching a man die.
“Samson?”
The man on the bed suddenly awoke, his eyes popping open.
He’d spoken the name of the man in the robes, who nearly jumped out of his skin at the piercing sharpness of the man’s voice.
Samson was a ridiculous name considering his diminutive size, but it had been foisted upon him by a spiteful superior, and he’d been too weak to refuse it.
Samson the Weak, they teased.
Weak, indeed.
“I am here, Lord de Edington,” Samson said, leaning over so the man could see him. “You were asleep most of the day. How do you feel?”
Paulus de Edington’s eyes moved slowly in the direction of the priest. He didn’t move his head or even the rest of his body. Only his eyes. Once he found the old priest who had been nursing him for the past couple of weeks, he seemed to relax.
“Good,” he mumbled thickly. “You are here. I dreamt that you had left.”
“Nay, my lord,” Samson said. “I am here. I have been praying.”
“God is not listening.”
Samson shook his head. “Nay, he is not,” he said hesitantly. “I… I am afraid that the time has come for us to come to terms with this, my lord. For two weeks, you have refused to allow me to notify your family of your illness, but the time has come. They must know before it is too late.”
Paulus sighed heavily, closing his eyes. “What do they care?” he muttered. “The truth is that they do not. My son only wants what I have, and my daughter… I mean nothing to her, and that is of my doing. I am certain she does not care if I live or die.”
Samson went to a bowl next to the bed, one that contained a dirty rag, and wrung it out. He put it across Paulus’ forehead.
“Whether or not your children care is not at issue,” he said. “They must be notified. Would you not like to see them before you go?”
Paulus’ eyes opened. “I would not like to see my son,” he said. “You do not know Ansel. He has too much of his mother in him—careless and arrogant.”
“I am sure it is not as bad as that.”
“Why do you think he is not here?” Paulus said.
“He is trouble. He has always been trouble. When he was here, he contested every command I gave, stole my money, tried to turn my men against me, so I sent him away to serve at Thornton Tower. ’Twas a cold trick to play on my old friend, Lord de Allery, but it could not be helped.
Better Ansel at Thornton Tower than here. You may send him word after I am gone.”
“And your daughter?”
“She lives with my father’s sister in London,” he said. “Katiana… she has all of my mother’s kindness, but I’ve not been a good father to her. Mayhap… mayhap I should like to see her before I go. She lives at the home of Lady Ethyl de Edington on Coleman Street.”
“I will send word right away, my lord.”
Paulus sighed faintly, thinking of his lovely daughter, whom he’d never given much of a chance in life. There had been reasons for that, of course, reasons that didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“I sent her to London because it seemed best for her,” he mumbled, turning his head slightly in search of the window and the fresh air. “It was not safe for her to remain here.”
“Why not?”
“Her brother,” Paulus said. “He was never kind to her, you know. He would beat her and blame it on me. Or he would push her down the stairs and say it was an accident. For some reason, he liked to hurt her. I like to think I raised a son who knew right from wrong, but he did not. Ansel was an evil boy, and he grew into an evil man.”
Samson took the cloth from his head and dipped it in the water again. “Then I shall pray for him, my lord,” he said. “You have never spoken of him, so I did not know.”
Paulus fell silent for a few minutes, gazing at the sky beyond the window. “Will you do something for me, Samson?”
“Whatever you wish, my lord.”
“In my solar, there is a chest,” Paulus said. “It is in a cabinet, at the very bottom. You will find it and you will give it to my daughter.”
“What is it?”
“Everything I do not want my son to have,” Paulus rumbled.
“I cannot keep him from this castle or my property. He will even inherit the title of Lord Callerton, which has been in my family for generations. But the money… I want it to go to my daughter. I have always told her that I had no money to give her, but that was not true. I had it. But now I realize that I do not want my son to have it. Will you do this for me?”
Samson nodded hesitantly. “But your son… he will expect it, will he not?” he said. “What if he comes to me and demands it?”
Paulus sighed heavily, restlessly. “He will not know,” he said. “If he asks what you know, lie to him. Samson, it is not a sin to lie to an evil man.”
Samson wasn’t so sure. He was a priest, and priests didn’t lie. At least, the pious ones didn’t. Pious ones didn’t steal, either.
But that’s exactly what he did.
As Paulus de Edington breathed his last, Samson wrote two missives—one to Ansel de Edington at Thornton Tower in Northumberland and one to Lady Katiana de Edington, courtesy of Lady Ethyl de Edington in London.
Come home now. Your father is dying.
As Paulus took his last breath, Samson left with the chest of de Edington coin and never looked back.