Epilogue
Sir Raphael Corviser and the Lady Angelet d’Hiver were married the next morning, just as promised.
Rafe was perfectly content with the speedy and very public ceremony, since he knew all too well what happened when marriages were delayed or kept secret too long.
He wanted Angelet to be protected, no matter what might happen in the future.
They had their wedding night, a night marked by joy and laughter and lust. But then Rafe had to prepare to leave for his new assignment as the castellan of Martenkeep.
Angelet would travel with him as far as Cleobury, where she would stay as a guest of Cecily and Alric until Rafe sent word for her to join him.
Rafe traveled to Martenkeep with an entourage—mostly workers from Cleobury and the village of Bournham, but also a few other faces. Goswin and Simon Faber had joined Rafe, each for their own reasons.
When the group finally arrived at the castle, the view was less than impressive.
Goswin, acting as Rafe’s page, offered his opinion first. “Lord, this is a ruin!”
“We do have our work cut out for us,” Rafe said, surveying the property entrusted to him.
The castle called Martenkeep stood on a small rise surrounded on three sides by the curves of a river.
Some parts of the main wall were old and nearly in ruins.
The stretches of stone wall that remained upright were covered with thick moss, making it look as if the wall had grown up there, instead of being built by human hands.
The keep itself still stood…partly. Green moss and grey lichen covered the walls in great patches. All the wooden structures, including the stables, the outbuildings and all of the roofs, were nothing more than piles of rotting timber.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” one of the men said. “The stones can be reset with fresh mortar. And there are plenty of trees to be cut for new wood.”
“True.” Simon looked around the forest. “Looks as if I’ll become a carpenter after all! Plenty of work here, but I think it will go quickly enough.”
“You’re more optimistic than I,” Rafe told him. “When we’re sleeping in puddles from the next rainstorm, I’ll remind you of your words.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Now, what is your command?”
Rafe looked about again. Really, it was not that much different from setting up a military camp. And that was a task he knew how to do.
“First things first. Locate the nearest source of water—make sure it’s clean.
Adam, clear an area for the horses and livestock to be sheltered temporarily.
Neale, search the buildings, and find the best place to set up quarters for sleeping and cooking.
I’m going to ride around the perimeter and see if there are places in need of guards during the nights. Simon, you’ll join me.”
Simon nodded, then shouted, “You heard your orders! To work!”
All the men dispersed to their tasks without any complaint. Rafe was still surprised that people accepted his word as authority, but every time it got a little easier.
He said, “Very well, let’s see how badly the defenses have crumbled, and how long we’ll need to rebuild. I won’t allow the king to send any boys for training until I know the place is secure.”
“Secure enough for the new trainees?” Simon asked. “Or secure enough for Lady Angelet?”
Rafe smiled. “That, too.”
“Then the repairs will go quickly,” Simon predicted.
Rafe worked feverishly to restore Martenkeep to a habitable state.
First, the massive gate had to be rebuilt, and the walls repaired, and the ditches and dry moats cleared out and sometimes re-dug.
And that was just to keep attackers out.
Then there was the matter of the keep, which had a heavily damaged roof and needed a thorough cleaning to bring it up to a level the soldiers considered acceptable.
It would require even more work before it was suitable for ladies, and ready to become a proper household with servants and workers and livestock.
Still, despite the backbreaking effort and long days, Rafe didn’t mind the work at all, because this was his home.
That made all the difference. He would hold this castle in the king’s name and he would protect this part of the shire to the best of his ability.
He had to, because he would never allow Angelet to live in a place he couldn’t protect. His lady was his life.
The day she and her entourage arrived, Rafe felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest, he was so filled with anticipation. He was proud of what he’d accomplished at the castle so far, and he hoped Angelet would not be disappointed.
By her smile, she was pleased to see him, at least. “Greetings, husband,” she said, clearly enjoying the word.
“Welcome to Martenkeep, my lady. How was the journey, and what news from Cleobury?”
“The journey is not a difficult one. I’d hoped to bring a certain kind of news along, but Lady Cecily’s child has not quite arrived. It is a matter of days now, instead of weeks. Everyone is excited. But I couldn’t wait any longer to see you, or our new home.”
There is still much work to be done, but I hope you’ll find it adequate.”
“It’s where you are,” she said, putting her hand in his. “I need nothing more than that.”
“Well, all the same, I made sure you will have a new roof over our bedchamber, and a new bed.” He leaned over to kiss her. “It’s been here for a fortnight, but I refused to sleep in it ’til you could sleep with me.”
Angelet bit her lip, looking down. “Rafe!”
“Still a rogue,” he confided. “Some things will never change.”
She looked up then, with a conspiratorial look in her eye. “You must show me to our chamber, husband. And I warn you, travel was so fatiguing, I’ll doubtless need to retire quite soon.” She looked anything but sleepy.
“This way…wife.” He liked saying that word, too.
* * * *
Angelet took a deep breath, drawing in the warm, sweetly-scented summer air with pleasure.
Was this what true happiness felt like? She looked over the green treetops visible past the mown fields and smiled.
She never thought she’d find a place like this, with a partner such as Rafe.
She would work hard as chatelaine, and make life here comfortable and safe for all the inhabitants, whether they would be here for life or only a little while, such as the young men come for training as soldiers and knights.
It was almost like having a family, she thought. These young men were really not much more than boys. She could be a mother to them while they were here, and offer a more gentle influence to complement the harsher treatment they would endure from Rafe and the other men who would act as instructors.
Rafe had initially agreed to train four boys, and three were already here.
They all seemed bright and eager to learn.
There was Torin, a friendly and brash boy whose body had started to outpace his mind, leading to a certain clumsiness, since he was often in motion before he quite knew what he was actually intending to do.
His big blue eyes always seemed startled, and nearly every time he spoke, out came an apology for bumping into someone or knocking over a tower of baskets or for simply standing in the wrong place—he had a knack for forgetting how to walk when any of the maids crossed his path.
“If he ever learns to control those limbs,” Rafe had said, “he’ll be a terror on the battlefield, especially if he keeps growing taller.
” Angelet had agreed, but privately she thought he’d be more dangerous among ladies.
His hapless innocence, combined with his appearance, was already drawing glances from the girls his age.
Then there was Guy, who was dark-haired with an olive complexion, as slight and short as Torin was brawny.
He was the son of a very wealthy baron, and he was conscious of his station and eager to excel, but he was a tentative fighter, overly cautious and afraid to fail.
Angelet suspected that his interests lay elsewhere, and he’d prefer a career in the church.
She felt that he’d need the most mothering of the boys she’d met so far, lest his lack of confidence turn to sullenness.
The third boy was from the north, the nephew of one of the rebel barons, and thus something of a puzzle.
He was too young to have any knowledge of or participation in the rebellion, but the king was now determined to make sure this new generation belonged to him.
Thus all the children and younger relatives of the rebels had been taken for fostering with trusted vassals of Stephen.
The boy, Acer, had a quick smile and polite manners, but a very changeable nature.
He could be sunny one moment and stormy the next.
Doubtless he felt insecure at Martenkeep, not quite prisoner and not quite guest. Angelet would have to make him feel welcome and safe.
A faint clatter in the distance made her look to the road. Yes, there it was. A small riding party was approaching, very likely the final trainee. She went down to greet the newcomer.
But when the visitor climbed out of the carriage, Angelet gasped in astonishment. “Henry?”
“Mother!”
“Sweet Mary, it’s you,” she whispered.
Henry ran to her and she sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him fiercely. She thought her heart might burst. It had been so long since she’d seen him. The last short visit had been over a year ago. It seemed like a lifetime.
“Oh, my boy.” Angelet clung to him, patting his hair, then hugging him again, then wiping her eyes, then starting all over.
She was crying freely, and she didn’t care at all who saw it or what they thought.
“Oh, you’re back with me. My prayers were heard.
You’re going to stay. I’ll never let you go again.
” She could barely think clearly now. She felt him shake a little as he threw himself at her.