Chapter 2
Confusion. That is what Lily wrestled with on the ride from Glumfell. This formidable knight, they called the Black Raven, easy to see why he was so named. Black hair, black mood to match. Yet what he did and what he threatened were two different things, seemingly.
Having seated her before him on his enormous stallion, he held her securely, almost politely, with one arm curled around her so as to grip the rein.
He sheltered her as much as possible from the chill wind that had kicked up.
He could easily have crushed her like a beetle.
Or made her walk. Any number of humiliations were at his disposal. He had not done any of those things.
Nor did her confusion end there.
He was her father’s avowed enemy, according to her brothers, and she’d been warned what might happen to collaborators.
But then, why had he and his much-despised prince been invited to Keelington Court for the hunting?
Adding to Lily’s befuddlement was the uproar of this morning’s theft.
Why would anyone steal the prince’s private belongings?
The whole thing made no sense at all to Lily.
True, she did not see things quite like adults did, and certainly not like Lambert.
Her brother, six years her senior, understood things far more clearly than she, but then he was wise beyond his years in Lily’s eyes. She adored him.
Glumfell Forest moaned.
All around them, the hoary old trees of the ancient oak wood swayed and tossed. Parts of it were trackless and dark, and few people ever went in. Not so the Keeling children. The manor house lay on its doorstep, and Lily and her siblings had used the eaves as their childhood playground.
That was why Lambert had asked her to play a trick on the prince. Lily knew all their secret places better than anyone else.
Lambert had come to her soon after daybreak amid the hue and cry of Prince Henry’s missing letter. She had been startled to find him in her chamber. He almost never sought her out, not there, not anywhere.
This morning, however, he’d smiled at her approvingly. How her heart had jumped. Nothing delighted her more than being in his good graces.
He had a story for her. He and the prince were vying for the favors of a certain court lady, he told her. The winner would get to woo her.
“’Tis a competition, don’t you see?”
“What sort of competition?” she’d asked.
“First one to snatch the lady’s garter from the writhen oak and bring it back to the stable would be the winner,” he’d explained. “You will mark the ground with horse prints and send him in the wrong direction. I have to best him. The honor of our family rests upon it.”
“But how?” she asked, more dumbfounded than ever. “And what has that to do with the prince’s missive? And how should I dare since we’ve been ordered not to leave the manor grounds?”
“No one will notice you slipping off, Lily. Get along with you now, and no more fuss.”
Lily had obediently done as he asked, because she always did what her siblings asked. They were older than she. But this earl, her captor, used words like treachery, and that frightened her. He did too.
Perilous, her father had called him. No friend of Keelings or of Cheshire.
She felt as insignificant as a fly against the might and wealth of her father’s adversary. He discomforted her, but she wasn’t sure exactly how.
She tried to capture the feeling, but she couldn’t put a name to it. She caught glimpses, though, like a prowling cat behind the fences of his tall and iron-hewed frame.
Something fierce lurked inside those dark eyes with their golden flecks.
He was too dark, too sure, too overwhelming. Quite the opposite of the gentle knights whose stories she deeply loved. Sir Lancelot and Arthur, the forever king of England. That’s how she imagined the knights of her girlish dreams.
Not this midnight-hued raven. This hunting, all-seeing, dominating force. His face might be beautiful, that she had to admit, startlingly so and chiseled in granite. But he was perilous, as her father had said.
Unsophisticated as she was, Lily knew somehow that he meant danger for her.
More immediately, though, the greater threat came from his rising anger, perhaps from perceived slights to the prince? It was said they were boon companions.
Every now and then, she glanced over her shoulder. She could not shake the notion that at any moment he would grab her by the neck and strangle her.
Surely, he would not do that… She tried to convince herself, but she could not rid herself of the uneasiness.
They rode on in silence. After a while, he seemed to have dismissed her from his thoughts.
He did not look at her but charted an easy pace between the trees, in consideration, no doubt, for his splendid beast. She wanted to ask him about the horse, black as his master’s sigil.
She dared not, for he sat like a stone and kept his thoughts shuttered from her.
* * *
They came to a place where the trees spread out, and the shadows were less thick upon the ground. They had reached the forest road again, and now the earl tapped the horse into a canter and headed for the manor.
Late afternoon spread out in amber and gold before them, and they could see the well-ordered countryside surrounding Keelington Court.
Just inside the last overhanging trees, the earl stopped. With one arm, he swung Lily to the ground while he remained ahorse.
Lily backed away a few steps. “What?” she stuttered, wariness and doubt playing swiftly across her face.
“I thought you might wish to put yourself in order,” he said.
If she had wanted to object to his ungentlemanly insinuation, she did not. She did look a sight with her chestnut hair unraveling from its bonds, her apron untied and sagging halfway down to her waist, and her face concealed behind a layer of grime. She was still barefoot.
Lily gawked at the man. “Uh, uh, yes, thank you,” she said with flushed cheeks. Could her astonishment go any further? Lily did not think so. And then he compounded his gesture by turning his back to allow her to put on her stockings and boots with some privacy.
Lily did not know what to make of it.
Her ministrations were not very successful under the circumstances, but at least she no longer looked like a bootless ragamuffin. She’d even managed to retie her hair back with a strip of ribbon that hung loose in the strands. They were soon on their way.
The gatehouse guard, a slovenly fellow, motioned them on without comment. Edward noted the inadequacy of Keelington’s defenses with passing disgust, but his focus remained on two things: the girl in front of him, and the hubbub coming from the courtyard ahead.
A glance around confirmed that the prince and his royal guard had returned from their abortive race through the forest. Edward sighed with relief at seeing Henry there unharmed.
The prince’s expression betrayed no discomfort with the press of people all around him, knights, peasants, and townsfolk, too.
The tableau presented itself as very much like a manorial court.
In front stood the commanding figure of Prince Henry alongside his three companions.
Facing them were Stanbury and his three sons, Lambert, Edgar, and Hubert.
All of them had drawn swords, and the air vibrated with animosity.
Between these two rows there knelt a group of villeins.
Each had their hands tied in front of them, their heads bent in supplication.
Edgar Keeling’s voice rose amid the clamor as he lambasted the kneeling men before him.
He pointed his drawn sword at them and slashed it through the air to punctuate his accusations.
“You will tell me which of you is the thief, or I will see you all dead,” Edgar bellowed, his voice rising as he worked himself into a fever pitch. A madness seemed to have befallen him.
The earl continued to walk his stallion forward. He had not yet reached the edge of the crowd when he finally halted. The moment he did, Lily began struggling to get down. He caught her fast, tightening his grip in a kind of warning that she should not move.
“B-but you don’t understand,” she cried, trying to twist around.
He was not having it. “Desist,” he commanded. “Keep still until I see what passes here. Do not move.”
Lily hardly heard him in her distress. “But this is a mistake,” she tried to explain. “That’s Ned and Farnel, goodly men and kind. Oh, and Rig. Rig is the best falconer in all of England… what is happening? There’s a mistake. Edgar, no!” she cried out in anguish.
No one heard her. People were shouting, Edgar continued ranting, everyone seemed on a knife-edge. The earl remained stone still, imprisoning her in his iron hold and increasing her distress.
He seemed not to notice, for his concentration was on her brother, Edgar, gesticulating wildly with his sword as he roared and complained at the top of his voice.
The kneeling men were wringing their bound hands, protesting their innocence.
Lily, stricken, reached out impotent hands. “No, No,” she cried, trying to appeal to those nearest them. “There’s a mistake. Edgar, no!”
Lily tried to twist around to appeal to her captor, but she could not move. “Please, my lord, let me stop them. Please.”
In that very moment, Edgar lunged forward and ran the nearest man through the heart. Blood and horror poured over the ancient cobblestones. The man lay dead. A shocked silence descended on the crowd.
Right then, several things happened rather fast and all at once. Edgar spun about, a look of utter consternation on his face. “I-I, no, no, no. I mean no harm,” he blurted out, dropping his bloody sword and thrusting his hands in the air.
It was too late for mediation. Prince Henry’s bodyguards were already in motion, reacting by rote to the threat to their prince.
The foremost guard, Sir Roderick, responded by leaping upon Edgar, running him through.
Edgar fell like a tree in a forest before the horrified eyes of all.
Quicker than thinking, the other guards grabbed Prince Henry’s arm and, with Sir Roderick shielding them as best he could, all four backed away, putting as much space between themselves and the Keelings as possible.
Lily, without thinking, sank back against the protective wall of her adversary. His large hand cradled her head against his chest.
“Elizabeth,” he said, bending his head close to her ear. “I must go to my prince, now. You would do well to take this reprieve and find a backdoor into the manor, if you can.”
And without waiting for her response, he swung her down and nudged his stallion forward.