Chapter 27
Rafe steeled himself for the arrival of the lord who’d been hunting him for years.
Whatever his plans to slip out of Cleobury and evade the reckoning, now he had no choice.
Part of him actually welcomed what was to come.
Running was exhausting. The unknown was exhausting. At least now the worst would come out.
At Cecily’s instruction, everyone gathered in the courtyard to greet the party so Rainald would have a proper welcome…and also to make Rafe’s appearance known as quickly as possible.
When the party entered the courtyard, Rainald rode alongside someone else Rafe knew well.
The young, dark-skinned knight scanned the group, and when he saw Rafe, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
He leaned over to say something to Lord Rainald, who nodded slowly.
Then the knight leapt down from his horse and went directly to where Rafe stood near Angelet.
Cecily stepped forward. “Octavian! What a pleasant surprise.”
“Surprise is a good word for it,” the knight replied, with a glance at Rafe.
“Angelet,” Cecily said, taking her by the elbow. “This knight is our friend, Octavian de Levant. He has fought beside my Alric—as well as Rafe—during battle. I think he has saved all our lives once or twice.”
Angelet, not yet fully healed, gave a wobbly curtsey. “Then I am most pleased to meet you, Sir Octavian. For Lady Cecily saved my life. She could not have done that if you hadn’t saved hers earlier! I am Angelet d’Hiver.”
The knight bowed. Rafe had forgot how intensely formal Octavian could be. “Lady Angelet.”
Cecily said, “And you noticed that Rafe has returned.”
“Indeed.” Octavian looked Rafe directly in the eyes, and Rafe saw the suspicion there. Octavian was younger than him and Alric, and they hadn’t met him until about five years ago. Of all of them, Octavian had the least reason to trust Rafe, since he’d only seen Rafe at his worst.
Still, he took his tone from his hosts, and Cecily obviously allowed Rafe to be there. “We’ll have to talk soon,” the knight said. “I’m curious as to where you’ve been.”
“First,” Alric said, “we all need to hear what happened at the meeting. It took long enough!”
Now Octavian smiled. “Our visit was useful, I think. The lull in fighting has meant an increase in discussions.”
“Will Stephen and Maud finally agree to a peace?” Angelet asked. Rafe knew why. If they did, it would make it easier for her to reunite with her family.
“That I don’t know, my lady. There are still many obstacles, not least of which is that both cousins still desire the crown.”
Cecily frowned. “There won’t be anything left to rule, the way they keep bickering. This country will revert to wilderness.”
Octavian had been looking around the courtyard. “Speaking of the wild, where’s your ward? Any luck housebreaking Lady Robin yet?”
Cecily sighed. “We’re making progress…of a sort.”
Octavian gave a knowing laugh. “Sounds like a no to me. You’re better off opening the cage door and releasing her back into the forest.”
“She’ll make a fine lady,” Cecily insisted. “She just needs time.”
“And a miracle or two.”
“Then pray for her.” Cecily took Angelet by the arm, saying, “Now, dear, you must meet my father.”
They all turned as Lord Rainald de Vere walked up to them. He accepted Cecily’s exuberant embrace, then bowed to Angelet, who was introduced as a guest—again, Cecily kept the association between Rafe and Angelet quiet.
Then de Vere stood in front of Rafe. The older man’s expression was one of wonder, not anger. “Rafe, you have come back.”
“By chance, my lord,” Rafe said. Despite everything that had happened, it still felt natural to defer to Lord Rainald de Vere. “Circumstances brought me to Cleobury for a short time.”
“You have not come to stay?”
Rafe glanced at Alric as he said, “I do not wish to trouble the household further, my lord. I plan to leave as soon as…” He trailed off.
What was holding him here? Angelet was already being cared for by Cecily, and she could not be in better hands.
Rafe had no claim on her, and no reason to linger.
Yes, he’d promised earlier to help her get her son back.
But that was before all this happened. Alric and Cecily would be better allies even for that task.
“I’ll leave when you’re done with me, my lord. ”
“Then you’ll stay for a little while more. For I have much to say to you.” Rainald spoke kindly, but there was no mistaking the order.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Cecily said, “You must want to wash off the road, Father.”
“So I do! And I hope supper will be prepared, for we’re all famished.”
As evening fell, everyone gathered in the great hall. The return of the manor’s lord meant that the kitchen went to extra effort, and it was rather like a holiday, there was so much food and drink.
However, toward the end of the meal, Rainald gestured to Rafe, in a wordless order to join him. Rafe did.
“Now that I’ve finally got you here,” the lord said, “it’s time we speak. Follow me.”
Alric, who was seated next to Rainald, asked if he ought to join them.
Rainald shook his head. “Rafe and I will speak alone.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sure as I am the lord of Cleobury.”
That ended any more argument from Alric, though he watched Rafe as the two men left the hall.
“Alric worries overmuch, don’t you think?” Rainald noted, as if they had conversations like this every day.
Rafe said, “Were I in his position, I wouldn’t trust me.”
“Alric knows only part of the story.” Rainald opened the door to his private study and Rafe followed him in, sitting as instructed. The older man went on, “And indeed, you know only part of the story.”
“Part of what story?”
“The story of your past. My dear boy,” de Vere said with a heavy sigh, “I must beg your forgiveness.”
“Ah…what?” As far as Rafe knew, he was the one who briefly allied himself with Rainald’s traitorous brother Theobald.
Rafe was the one who nearly murdered Rainald’s future son-in-law, and it was Rafe who treated Cecily shamefully when she should have been able to rely on him. “You owe me nothing, my lord.”
“Oh, I do. I’ve thought of you so often since I returned to Cleobury. How I wish I could have done things differently. Through my carelessness, I have stolen from you.”
“My lord Rainald,” Rafe said. “You are mistaken. I have nothing to my name. How could you have stolen anything from me?”
The older man smiled. “If only it were so. The truth is that I failed you, Rafe. There was so much I should have told you before. But you were a young boy, and I didn’t want to burden you. Then I was forced to flee Cleobury when my brother moved to usurp me, and all seemed lost.”
“You returned. Thanks to Alric and Octavian.”
De Vere nodded sadly. “But then you left so quickly, and things were so turbulent here. By the time I realized I had to speak to you, no one could find you.”
“Alric said you hired men to go after me.”
“I did, but you’re a hard man to find. I think providence has led you back here, so I could share what I should have shared so long ago.”
“I don’t understand. What is so important? What do you know that you didn’t tell me?”
“Listen,” de Vere said. “I must tell you a story. It may seem overlong, but it is necessary.”
Rafe sat back, not at all sure what to expect.
“Once,” Rainald began, “during the reign of King Henry, a rebellion rose up, as happens to all kings in all times. This one took place among some of the Marcher lords and their dubious Welsh allies. Naturally the king could not allow the rebellion to grow, so he sent men to quell the uprising.
“One of those men was a knight by the name of Sir Michael, who commanded a company so loyal that they were once rumored to have all swam across an icy river at night at his order, just to be in place at the battlefield by dawn.
Now, during this rebellion, his task was to besiege the castle of one of the rebel lords.
Dhustune was a most formidable prize—built high upon a rocky cliff-face, with stout walls and a natural defense of boggy land at the base of the cliff to one side.
A siege would be long and difficult, but Sir Michael was a patient soldier.
“He first worked to cut off supply lines and seal up the castle from any outside assistance. Everyone settled in for a long siege. However, the rebel lord was a subtle and tricky man. He took advantage of a dreadful rainy night, when even the most dedicated sentries were less willing and able to keep a sharp eye out. He took his immediate family and a few retainers, and snuck out of the castle in the black of night. They managed to reach the edge of the bog when a sentry finally sighted them. An alarm was sounded and Sir Michael’s men gave chase.
“The lord and nearly all of his people escaped into the woods—they knew the pathways better than the attackers. However, by chance, one person was captured. Lady Clare, the daughter of the lord, was brought to Sir Michael.
“Now this was like discovering a key to a lock. Sir Michael had a fine hostage in the lady Clare. He ordered the soldiers guarding Castle Dhustune to open the gates, lest Lady Clare be killed. What else could they do, given such a choice?
“They opened the gates and surrendered to spare their lady’s life.
This shifted everything in Sir Michael’s favor.
After only a few weeks of siege-work, the knight captured the castle with scarcely any losses, and now he had a noble hostage of the rebel side, rendering the rebel lord’s escape almost moot.
He took over Castle Dhustune in the name of the king, and sent word that he had Lady Clare, to be ransomed once terms could be reached.
The king and the rebel lords would negotiate for her worth, and in the meantime, it was Michael’s responsibility to keep the noble hostage safe.