Chapter 32
Easter came in mid-April that year, leaving less than a fortnight for Rafe to gather any witnesses he could find to support his case, travel to Northampton, and prepare a defense before an audience with the king himself. He was not optimistic.
Fortunately, however, he was no longer alone. Alric and Octavian both helped him. In addition, Luc was sent for. Luc’s family was close with the king, and Luc could advise Rafe on what to say—and not say.
Luc did even more than that. He arranged for some of the group to stay with his own family in Northampton, and assured them that he’d help in any way he could. Rafe could hardly believe it.
“Why are you doing this for me? After what I did?”
“What are friends for?” Luc replied. Then he grinned. “Besides, it wasn’t me you impaled during a practice session.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious, Rafe. We practically grew up together, and I know the truth of what happened—Alric told me the whole story. So stop dwelling in the past. You’ve got a problem in the present, and that’s the only time we can affect our fates.
So let’s get to work on mounting a defense against whatever accusations the Yarboroughs will make. ”
“They will accuse me of theft and kidnapping, and possibly murder. I should have taken care of Ernald back at that farm.” Rafe walked from one end of the room to the other and back again, full of energy he couldn’t get rid of.
“You can’t solve this with a sword, Rafe,” said Alric. “How will you being executed for murder help Angelet?”
“She’ll be safe once Ernald is dead.”
Luc put a hand to his head. “Rafe. For God’s sake, stop pacing. We’ll find a way through this. And blood will not be involved.”
“Otto must have already spoken to the king,” Rafe said worriedly. “He’ll have lawyers, local friends, and witnesses. I may as well give up now.”
“You have the truth on your side,” Luc said. “That counts for something. Usually.”
A group left Cleobury for the town of Northampton, arriving a few days before Easter. Both Robin and Goswin had to stay behind at Cleobury, and both complained bitterly about it. Yet they were children, and Cleobury was the safest place for them.
Angelet rode most of the way in a carriage with Lady Cecily, which must have been more comfortable for both of them than a horse would have been. But it separated her from Rafe, which annoyed him. He liked to see Angelet as often as he could.
When they arrived, the group went directly to the home of Luc’s family.
The house they came to was impressive, but not cold.
Indeed, the whole family—father, mother, and daughters—welcomed them as if they were all old friends.
They fussed over Cecily’s expectant condition and chatted with Angelet as if she’d always been part of their circle.
Rafe had always been somewhat in awe of Luc and his noble upbringing.
He had access to the sort of life most people never even dreamed of.
Yet Rafe was welcomed, and that was before his true parentage was even revealed.
“Luc has told us something of what’s happening, Sir Rafe, but I’d like to hear more,” the Lord of Braecon said.
So Rafe told the story as best he could.
It was not the final retelling either. As it happened, wheels were already turning, and an agent of the king was conducting something like an investigation before the king held an audience with them all.
He was interviewing all parties, trying to discover what really happened.
The day after they arrived in town, Luc took Rafe to meet the man at an inn close to the center of town. “Be careful what you say,” Luc told him before they entered. “I’ve met Lord Drogo before. You don’t want to antagonize him.”
“Sounds charming,” Rafe muttered.
The man waiting for them was anything but charming.
He was an ascetic-looking man somewhere near fifty.
He had a thin face and deep-set eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
His clothes were very fine in quality, but in dull, drab colors.
He’d fade away in most rooms filled with people. Rafe suspected he liked it that way.
“Sir Rafe,” Luc said, “may I present Lord Drogo. He has been tasked with investigating this whole matter, as an impartial servant of the king.”
Drogo invited them both to sit. “I’ve spoken to several other people involved in this matter. Lord Otto and his son Ernald have leveled very serious accusations. And their description of Sir Rafe was not flattering.”
“My description of them won’t flatter, either,” Rafe said, before Luc put a warning hand on his arm.
“Let’s stick to facts. Drogo, what do you need to know from Rafe?”
“Everything. Let us begin with who you are.”
That Rafe could now answer with pride. “My name is Sir Raphael Corviser. I have served the de Vere family, who swore allegiance to King Stephen very early in his reign.”
“Corviser…”
“My father was Sir Michael Corviser. He died in service of the old king.”
“Yes, Corviser. Good king’s man,” Drogo muttered approvingly. “Sterling fighter, was Sir Michael. Never knew he married.”
“It was only a few months before his death,” Rafe explained, skipping over the details. “To Lady Clare of Beaumont, who has also now passed away.”
“What brought you to the manor of Dryton?”
Rafe told him the whole story from beginning to end, leaving out only the parts that would compromise Angelet’s reputation.
At the end of the tale, Drogo regarded him with those glittering eyes. “Much of the early part of your story rings true—up to the time of the initial attack on the cortège. I questioned another witness who confirmed it.”
“Who?” Rafe asked, puzzled.
Drogo gestured to Luc. “Go fetch him, please.”
Luc grinned at Rafe, then left the back room. He returned moments later, along with none other than Simon Faber.
“Sir Rafe!” Simon almost shouted. He surprised Rafe with an embrace that nearly cracked a rib. “It’s a miracle to see you again! I feared that you never got the lady to safety, and you both perished after the attack.”
“I thought the same of you,” Rafe said, after he got his breath back. “What happened? I assumed the thieves would have slaughtered every possible witness.”
“So they would have, but then they fell apart after you stole the lady away. Some wanted to go after you, some wanted to loot the wagons and flee north, and the others wanted to march back to Dryton and demand satisfaction from Ernald, who’d hired them.
The few of us who survived the first round regrouped by the supply wagon and held off a second attack for a precious few moments.
God be praised, another party came into sight from the north.
It was a caravan of wool merchants, and they were well-guarded.
The thieves scattered, and the newcomers came to our aid.
We were able to take our dead and wounded to the nearest town. ”
“What happened to everyone? Marcus? And Laurence?”
“Marcus was wounded but survived. He’s back in Ashthorpe. Laurence didn’t…” Simon took a heavy breath.
“I’m sorry.” Rafe knew all too well what it was like to see companions fall in battle. “But how did you come to be here? In this town?”
“That was my doing,” said Luc. “I had a few men go to Dryton and Ashthorpe in search of any witnesses who might be able to tell us something of what happened. And Simon was one who answered the call!”
“I’m not usually one for believing in miracles, but this is close to one. I never thought to see you again, Simon.”
“Ah, it would have been sooner, but they said I was not to talk to you earlier. Something about getting stories straight.”
“Indeed,” Drogo said. “I am most interested in where people’s stories diverge. That is always where it gets intriguing.”
“And you’ve learned something?” Luc asked.
“Many things. Someone is lying, and I will find out who it is. By the time this matter is brought before the king, I will know exactly what happened, and all that will be left is to decide the punishment.”
Rafe didn’t like the way Drogo looked at him as he said it.
* * * *
The days of the holy week preceding Easter seemed to drag for Angelet, who attended mass every day, but otherwise stayed close to the house.
She usually had company, because with three other noblewomen and a number of female servants, there was always someone about.
Angelet knew that everyone was subtly—and not so subtly—working to hide the extent of her relationship to Rafe while they were in Northampton.
That was why he was staying in another house, and why they were not permitted to be in the same room alone together when he visited to meet with the family.
She recognized the wisdom of it, but she hated it.
After this, whether it ended well or not, Rafe and she would travel separate paths.
Why did she have to be denied even the pleasure and comfort of being near him for these last few days?
Though she tried to mask her feelings with the calm face she learned to use at Dryton, it seemed she wasn’t doing well.
“You’re melancholy,” Cecily told her one day.
“I’m worried about the audience with the king,” said Angelet. “I’m terrified I’ll say something wrong and hurt Rafe’s case. It’s the last thing I’ll ever be able to do for him. What if I fail?”
“Last thing?” Cecily asked, puzzled.
“I’m just being practical. We’ve no future.”
“You and Rafe, you mean? Why should that be?”
“It just is. He’s told me exactly that, again and again. From the very first time we met, Rafe made it clear that our meeting was purest chance, and that soon enough we’d be parted again….though when he first said that, he never could have envisioned how tangled our paths grew. Still, he said it.”
“Yes, but was he saying that for your benefit, or his own?”
“What do you mean?”
Cecily said, “Perhaps Rafe mentioned the end so often because he needed to remind himself of it…or else he’d start dreaming of another future. One with you in it.”