Chapter Six
The next morning, Rosalind entered the kitchen and found that Alden and Sir Devlin had already left the manor.
“Only grabbed a hunk of cheese to break their fast!” Marta exclaimed.
“Said they were going to search again for any sign of Lord Capell.”
Rosalind’s stomach flip-flopped, but she joined the children and Benton at the table.
Without the king’s men in the manor, Rosalind pretended that everything was back to normal and that today would be a regular day; the children would complete their lessons, chores would be done, and for now, she refused to ponder their precarious future.
She sipped her tea and tried to eat as best she could.
But she could only stomach a few bites of dry toasted bread.
She laughed inwardly at her paltry attempt to push her worries from her mind, and her thoughts quickly returned to reality.
Today would not be typical. She knew she would sit and worry about what the men might find, and she shuddered.
She knew her only hope was to stay busy, or her anxious thoughts would render her paralyzed.
As they finished their breakfast, Rosalind and Marta planned the meals for the next two days.
Benton and Ridley noted that more wood needed to be hauled in for the kitchen and bed chambers and that the stable needed to be mucked out.
Rosalind told the girls they would help with dusting and sweeping several rooms upstairs and down.
These additional duties would be done after the beds were made and lessons completed.
The girls only grumbled slightly but were agreeable to the day’s plan.
****
Sir Devlin and Alden had risen just as the first sliver of gray light was seen upon the eastern horizon. It had been two days, and still, there was no sign of Edmond Capell anywhere. Devlin thought a more organized search of the Capell lands was warranted.
“We’ll look around the manor house itself and the work in circles moving outward. I want to be able to tell the king that no part of Edmond’s estate was left unchecked.”
Alden nodded, and the careful search began.
The morning air was crisp, and a wind from the north bit any exposed flesh as they rode. The sun never made an appearance, and the day remained gray and overcast.
“Alden, I want to talk to the farmer again. The one who found the horse,” Devlin said after their two-hour hunt had yielded nothing. “What was his name again?”
“Henry,” Alden replied. “He discovered Capell’s mount, and his young son returned it to the manor.”
They turned the horses southward, and Alden led the way.
When they arrived at Henry’s cottage, the man was outside trying to gather his goats and herd them into a rough lean-to shelter.
He looked toward the riders as they rode closer and threw up his hand in greeting.
Devlin waited as Henry rounded up the last goat and shut the ramshackle gate behind the animals.
“Good day, sirs,” he said pleasantly. “What can I help you with?”
“Good day, Henry,” Alden began. “Sir Devlin has been tasked by the king to find Lord Capell. He had a few more questions for you about the horse you found. Capell’s horse.”
“I’ll tell you what I can, but it’s not much. You already know what I saw that morning,” Alden replied.
“Yes, and the information was most helpful,” Alden assured him. “But Sir Devlin seeks a few more details.”
“When you found the horse, did it appear that anything was missing from the animal?”
“No, no.. nothing at all,” Henry shook his head. “Just as I said before, its fine tack was all there, and even the saddle bag was still attached to the saddle.”
Devlin already knew this information, but he pressed on with another question.
“Was there anything, anything at all that was unusual about the horse? Think, Henry,” Devlin said seriously.
Henry thought for a moment. “Mud,” he finally said.
Devlin’s head cocked slightly to the side. “Mud?” he echoed the farmer. “What would be unusual about mud?”
This was England in the winter. Mud was practically everywhere.
“It was the type of mud, sir. This was mud you see in the bog. The horse was covered from the hoof almost to its hock in thick bog mud. My boy and I tried to remove what we could with a quick curry before we took it back to the manor, but the beast looked like a mess.”
“And where would the closest bog be, Henry?” Alden inquired.
Henry pointed toward the south. “Just over that ridge. It’d be another ten minutes or so to get there.”
Devlin glanced at Alden, and then they both looked toward the sky. Henry was right to be sheltering the livestock. Thick, dark clouds were building; a storm would soon be upon them. Their search would have to wait another day.
The men thanked Henry and left the farmer to his work. Once out of earshot, Devlin turned to his friend.
“Why didn’t Benton or Ridley think to tell us about the state of the horse when it was returned? The mud could pinpoint Edmond’s last known location.”
Alden had no answers, but it was clear now that information was being deliberately withheld.
“Don’t mention anything about this to anyone. The storm looks close. We will have to continue our search of the bog tomorrow.”
Alden nodded, and as the wind began to pick up in earnest, they turned their horses toward the manor house and concentrated on getting there before the clouds released their cache of snow.
Devlin breathed a sigh of relief when the manor house was in view.
By the time they reached the stable, the wind howled, and small particles of ice circulated in the air.
Ridley was there, spreading fresh straw at the end of the barn that housed the chickens.
Even the ducks had come in from the small shelters erected around the small pond where they spent their days.
The birds were more than ready to leave the cold environment outside and come into the barn.
Like the fowl, Devlin was appreciative of the shelter.
The normally skittish chickens walked directly past him and settled into the confinement of the barn.
The storm’s going to be bad.
Alden and Devlin unsaddled the horses, and Ridley, now finished with the chickens and the goats, rushed to help the men.
He wiped each horse down with soft cloths while Devlin saw to putting fresh hay in the mangers.
Alden grabbed two buckets and filled them with fresh water from the well outside the stable.
“Glad you made it before the storm,” Ridley said. “I think it could be bad tonight.”
“Agreed,” Alden replied. “We’ve made it back just in time.”
“Supper is almost ready,” Ridley continued. “Marta was worried that you hadn’t eaten all day.”
Alden grinned at that. While hungry, Devlin also wanted to kick his feet up in front of the fire. The cold had penetrated his bones. A quiet evening with a warm meal and a hot fire beckoned him.
With the horses and the other livestock comfortable in the barn, the two men and Ridley hurried through the downpour of sleet along the path that led from the manor to the barn.
Devlin opened the door to the manor and was not met with the warmth and calm they desired but with shrieks from Luella. Both men tensed and grabbed their swords.
“No! No! No!” Marta screamed.
From the kitchen, Grim appeared, tail tucked between his back legs.
He carried a large ham roast in his mouth, so large he could hardly see where he was going.
Kaylyn chased the dog closely, yelling at him to “drop it,” which Grim had no intention of doing.
Marta was not far behind, and she had a large rolling pin.
Devlin was sure she would use it on his hound, and deservedly so.
Little Luella chased all three, panicked that Grim was in trouble and would get hurt.
“Enough!” Devlin shouted in a menacing voice.
Everyone, including the dog, stopped.
“Grim! Drop that ham!” The dog instantly obeyed and everyone in the entire room stood frozen waiting for Devlin to speak again.
Devlin took a deep breath and pain shot through his temples. “Marta. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I assume that our supper is on the floor?”
Marta nodded, looking defeated. “I’ll see what I can salvage.” She gathered the ham in her apron and carried it back to the kitchen.
Devlin turned to Luella, who was still crying loudly. He scooped her up in his strong arms, and held her close. She began to calm almost instantly, but still hiccupped from her panicked crying.
Grim still sat on the floor, but only a smear of ham grease remained in front of him. He had the gall to lick it off the floor and look surprised at all the fuss.
“Please don’t hurt Grim, Mr. Devil,” Luella squeaked. “He didn’t mean it.”
“Well, young lady, I will need to disagree with you there. I believe that naughty hound seized that ham with no hesitation and without any thought of our hungry bellies. I can only hope that Marta will forgive him.”
Luella giggled and then sniffled.
“Grim!” Devlin barked. “Go lie down!”
The dog obeyed instantly and made his way to his blanket on the rug by the fire.
“Kaylyn, you and Luella see if Marta needs help in the kitchen. Luella, wash your face.”
The children trotted off to the kitchen. Devlin hadn’t noticed that Rosalind stood at the doorframe. He had no idea how long she had been there. Had she witnessed his ill-mannered dog trying to escape with the dinner ham?
“Please forgive the chaos Grim has caused you, milady. It seems the ham was too much of a temptation for him.”
“You won’t harm him, will you?” Rosalind asked with a hint of fear in her voice.
“I will certainly punish him if you want. Or at least kick him back out to the stalls.”
“No, I don’t want him punished. Look at him. I think he’s ashamed of his behavior.” Rosalind glanced over at the table.
Grim had now moved under the table and looked guilty and regretful. He refused to make eye contact when Devlin leaned over and looked at him.