Raven’s Rise Read online

  “I’m sorry,” Angelet said meekly. “I have no memory of that.”

  “The candlestick is your concern?” Rafe asked. “Not your daughter?”

  “She’s not my—” Otto snapped, then checked himself. “She has an affliction that no one here can deal with. Of course we’re all concerned for her health.”

  “Of course,” Rafe echoed, not believing it.

  “I had wanted to speak to you last night,” Otto said, again turning to Angelet. “Ernald insisted something important occurred, and you would know what he was speaking of.”

  Angelet’s eyes grew wide. “Did he? I’m not sure what he could have meant.”

  “Do you not?” Otto grunted, and looked sidelong at Rafe.

  Rafe jumped in. “In fact, my lord, I have some questions of my own. Shall we let the lady rest? We can speak elsewhere.”

  “Very well.”

  Otto led Rafe to another part of the manor house, and then to what must be his private room. There were documents, sealed and unsealed, filling cubicles along the wall. In one corner stood the chest of money that Otto presented last night, the whole thing still bound with the chain and lock.

  Otto sat in a large, high-backed chair. Rafe continued to stand, since there was no other place to sit.

  “About last evening…” Otto began to say.

  Before Otto could bring up Ernald’s trumped-up accusations, Rafe launched his own offensive. Always keep an opponent on his toes. “Did you hope to hide the lady’s condition? What if she’d had an attack on the road? None of us would know what to do!”

  “The matter will be addressed. The maid Bethany has seen the attacks before,” Otto said. “She told me early this morning that she will be pleased to accompany Angelet on the journey.”

  “Will Bethany’s knowledge be sufficient?” Rafe remembered Bethany’s cold reaction to Angelet’s collapse and her total lack of any assistance. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for Otto to come to his senses.

  The lord finally shifted in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I suppose I should have mentioned it.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  Otto grumbled, “What do you want? An apology?”

  “More money.”

  “What?” Otto’s eyebrows nearly rose off his forehead.

  “This job is not what was first described. Your reticence about the lady’s health and your choice to flaunt the gold in that chest both mean the journey is much riskier than you implied. If you want me and my men to guard the cortège from here to Basingwerke, it will cost more. Double, in fact. And you’ll pay before we move out.”

  “Ludicrous.”

  Rafe shrugged. “Very well, my lord. If you don’t like my terms, then hire another group. Farewell.” He headed for the door.

  “Hold, sir knight!” Otto said quickly. “Angelet needs to travel now. There’s no time to wait for another group.”

  Rafe smiled to himself. He’d gambled on Otto’s impatience, and it paid off. But when he turned back to Otto, his face was serious. “And how much is your time worth?”

  “Double the original price is too high. I could offer you…half again as much.”

  Rafe made a show of considering it. “Agreed.”

  Otto clearly hated being outmaneuvered, but he said, “Done, then. And I’ll lend your group four of my guards as well, to ensure the safety of the venture. But you must leave tomorrow.”

  “Certainly, my lord. We’ll leave as soon as the wagons in the cortège are loaded…and the payment is in my hands.”

  Rafe nearly skipped out to the courtyard. Negotiating with Otto had gone better than expected. It was almost too easy, in fact.

  He gave Simon and the boys the good news.

  “This is amazing,” Laurence said. “We’ll eat beef for a year!”

  “He must value the lady’s safety highly,” Simon murmured.

  Rafe disagreed. “He wouldn’t weep if the lady didn’t make it to the end of her journey. But the money is another matter. That’s what we’re really guarding.”

  Simon chewed his lip. “Did Lord Otto say that to you?”

  “No,” said Rafe. “He didn’t have to. You’ve got to learn to listen to what these lords don’t say. It’s just as important as what they speak in words.”

  “God’s wounds, I’m even greener than I thought,” Simon groused.

  “That’s why you enlisted me, is it not?” Rafe clapped him on one shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie that he didn’t really feel. Yet it seemed to mean a lot to the other man.

  “I suppose so. Well, I’ll learn a lot on this trip, that’s for certain. And we’ll see both the lady and her dowry safe to her destination.”

  Rafe was going to have to teach Simon the trick of expecting the worst.

  Chapter 7

  Freedom. Glorious freedom.

  Angelet’s spirit lightened the moment her carriage left the grounds of Dryton. Even though she had grave doubts regarding her ultimate destination, she was away from the place that oppressed her for so long, and the air was cool and clear, and she could pretend that all was well.

  That morning, the small cortège had been ready to go, making it clear that Otto had planned this for some time, waiting until the very last moment to tell Angelet her fate. His trickery irked her, but what could she do? Facing the inevitable with grace was her only option. So she cooperated with Otto. She allowed the meek Lady Katherine to assist her in final preparations for the journey, suffering her mother-in-law’s platitudes about how fortunate she was to be going to Basingwerke.

  Katherine had carefully folded and packed the completed altar cloth, putting it into Angelet’s possession rather than alongside the chest of gold. “Keep this safe, dear. You put so much of your heart into it. You can hand it to the abbot personally. No matter what may happen, you’ll have a lovely gift to give. And soon enough, perhaps, you’ll get a visit from Henry. I’ll ask my lord Otto about it…” The older lady trailed off. She’d never spoken very much, and this speech seemed to use up all her words.

  Father Mark bid her goodbye as well, commending her to God and telling her he would pray for her happiness always. “Your soul is a candle in the dark, little Angelet,” he said. “You hardly know your influence. Faith and charity and love are your most powerful gifts.”

  “Not embroidery?” she asked wryly.

  He chuckled. “When you sew with faith and charity and love, my daughter, then yes.”

  “I’ll miss you.” Father Mark was the only person she would miss from Dryton.

  “God willing, we’ll meet again.” He kissed her forehead and spoke a blessing.

  Otto himself was less sentimental. Right before they left, the chest had been ceremoniously loaded onto the carriage that Angelet would travel in. She didn’t like that decision at all, but she had little say in the matter.

  Upon being told, Sir Rafe nodded crisply. “Of course, my lord. A sensible decision to put all the valuables in one place. It will be easier to guard.”

  “All the valuables?”

  “The gold and the lady,” Rafe said. “What could be more valuable than the life of one we’re meant to escort?”

  “Ah,” Otto said, clearly having forgotten that Angelet was worth anything at all. “Yes. How true.” He turned to her. “Angelet, come with me.”

  “In a moment, my lord.” She handed Rafe her own bag. “Please put this in my carriage, where I can get to it easily.”

  Rafe took it. “What is it?”

  “Just a few personal effects.”

  “I thought you were giving up all worldly goods at the end of this journey.”

  “But not until the end of the journey, Sir Rafe,” she countered impishly. She was feeling remarkably good, and excited to be leaving Dryton.

  She followed in Otto’s wake, curious as to what he could want. A final warning, probably. She was to keep her mouth shut and not interfere with anything. She was not to have more fits—as if she chose to! She was n
ot to smile or laugh, or enjoy her brief time of relative freedom before the gates of the nunnery would slam shut and lock her away for life.

  “Yes, my lord?” she asked politely. “What is it?”

  He looked around, saw no one, then produced the iron key. “Keep this with you until you give it to the abbot himself. Tell no one you have it. These soldiers may well turn upon you if they think they’d have a chance to steal the money for themselves.”

  Angelet’s mouth dropped open. If Otto thought that was possible, why was he hiring them in the first place?

  “My lord,” she said at last. “If you don’t trust them…”

  “Oh, they seem solid enough. But one never knows, and gold makes men do strange things. So be wary, daughter. Keep your own counsel, don’t fall into easy confidences, and remain aloof until you arrive safely at Basingwerke. Understand?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Angelet tucked the key into the small bag slung about her waist. Otto never called her daughter. What a strange parting this was turning out to be. “I suppose I should rejoin the group. They can hardly start off without me.”

  “Very true,” Otto said, putting a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. “We have not got on, Angelet. But all else aside, you’re the mother of my only grandson, and I’ll never forget that. You did your duty as a wife to Hubert. And I think you also made him happy, to the end of his short life.”

  She nodded and turned away, unable to think of anything to say. Otto made her life hell for years, and now he wanted…what? Gratitude? Reconciliation? She had nothing for him. “I must go.”

  Armed with the key, conscious of the weight of it in her bag, she returned to the cortège.

  Rafe stood by the door of her personal carriage, his hand out. “Ready to go, my lady?”

  She put her hand in his as she stepped up into the cushioned interior. His grip was strong and steady, and she would have enjoyed it more if the maid Bethany hadn’t been glaring at her pointedly from her own seat.

  She still had difficulty believing that Bethany volunteered to accompany her. It would be better to do without a maid at all, yet she could not be devoid of female companionship on the journey. Even as a widow, she must appear chaste.

  Angelet let go of Rafe’s hand as though it were on fire. “I am ready to go, sir knight.”

  “Expect a few moments wait, my lady, and then we’ll be moving.” Rafe shut the door, smiled at Angelet through the open window, and walked off.

  “What caused you to dally?” Bethany asked.

  “My reasons are not your concern,” Angelet replied, feeling a surge of confidence at the thought of leaving Dryton Manor at last. “Conduct yourself according to your station, Bethany, and we’ll have no trouble.”

  “And if I don’t?” the maid asked.

  “You can walk.”

  “You’re not in charge.”

  “If not me, then who? Ernald? Otto? Or is there another one of noble birth tucked away in the supply wagon?” Angelet looked hard at Bethany. “If answering to me chafes you so, hop out now before we leave Dryton.”

  “What will you do without a maid?”

  “I’ll hire another one in the next village.” Angelet had never done such a thing before, but judging by Bethany’s shocked expression, the maid believed it possible.

  The next few hours passed in silence. Angelet stared out the windows, eager to see anything outside her own small world. The view was not inspiring, mostly mud and still-bare branches. But the air was crisp and smelled cleaner than the manor’s did. That was enough.

  Her carriage was well-supplied with cushions to make the journey more comfortable, and curtains to block dust and rain, as well as any too-curious stares.

  In addition to her own carriage, there were two supply wagons stocked with food and equipment they’d need along the way. It was expected that they’d find shelter at other homes or in towns for most of the nights. But to travel in this day and age meant to always be prepared for the unexpected: a storm, bad roads, a washed-out bridge, or worse. Rafe told her they’d likely be sleeping at least a few nights on the road. For most of the party, that was no hardship—they were commoners and soldiers, used to rougher living. She was apprehensive about the notion of sleeping outdoors, but after all, she wouldn’t be alone.

  If only she felt less alone.

  Chapter 8

  The first evening, they halted in a village Angelet had heard of but had never been to. The inn there was quite acceptable, and the innkeeper was familiar with Otto and Dryton, so Angelet was given the best room. She would have been even more pleased, except that the sour-faced Bethany would share it with her, to preserve her honor.

  Rafe came up to them and pointed to a small pyramid of sacks and boxes. “Bethany, those items all go up to the lady’s chamber. You should be able to take care of it in three or four trips.”

  Surprisingly, Bethany nodded and went to work.

  Angelet was happy…then she noticed the chest of gold. “What are you doing with that, Sir Rafe?”

  “It’s also going in your room, my lady.”

  “Must it?” she asked, as Simon and one of the Dryton guards wrestled it upstairs.

  “Tactical decision. Both you and the maid will be near, and I’ll see that guards are within earshot of the room. Someone will always be awake.”

  “Would a thief actually try to come into my room?”

  “It’s a risk,” Rafe said. “But better that the gold is inside, instead of left in the carts.”

  “If you think it best.” She looked up the stairs, then felt Rafe touch her arm.

  “I promise you’ll be safe.”

  She nodded, feeling a little better. He was the Knight of the Raven after all, undefeated in all the contests he entered. Otto would have hired the best.

  They ate well that night, since the inn was a prosperous one and Angelet was a better class of guest than most. She had thinly sliced beef in a sauce rich with the taste of red wine, which soaked into her trencher, turning the hard bread into a very satisfying course. However, despite the meal, or perhaps because of it, she felt rather restless.

  She stood up, only to find that Rafe stood too. “My lady?”

  “I was cooped up all day in that rolling box. I need to move. I’ll take a walk through the town. Bethany can come.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the maid said quickly enough. Her earlier pique was gone. In truth, Bethany was perfectly good at all the skills a maid should be good at. Her changeable moods created all the problems.

  Rafe shook his head. “You may take a walk, my lady, but the maid can stay here. I’ll escort you.” He put a hand meaningfully on the hilt of his sword.

  Angelet said, “Surely I’m not in danger in a village a day’s ride from Dryton?”

  “You won’t be in danger if you’ve got a soldier as escort.”

  The daylight was waning when Angelet stepped out of the inn, followed by Rafe. The feeling of being guarded was novel. She had never been considered important enough to guard before, beyond the usual restrictions imposed on all women of her birth. She would have expected it to annoy her—being constantly under someone’s view. But in fact it felt comforting to have Rafe near her, perhaps because she was certain that no one would dare harm her while he had that sword strapped to his side. Or just perhaps because he was a pleasure to look at. Any woman would be pleased to have such a man walking by her, wouldn’t she?

  The town was compactly built, with the slightly taller buildings all huddled up together along the main road, so that the sky above was just a narrow strip of clear purple, like a silk ribbon.

  Warm, gold light from candles and cooking fires shone out of windows and doors, thanks to the mild weather. Angelet hummed to herself as she peeked into the lives of these strangers. She saw families of all types. There were young couples chasing after little wild things pretending to be children—the shouts of the boys made her smile. There were fat, content older couples who lived more quiet lives. There were
merchants and laborers, apprentices and traders. But no ladies like her.

  A sudden feeling of intense loneliness assailed her, and when she saw an open field with a pond on the other side, she took the narrow path cutting through it. All the while, Rafe had said nothing, content to be her shadow.

  But Angelet grew curious. She asked, “Is this a common task for you, Sir Rafe? To act as a bodyguard, or an escort?”

  “No. I’m only here as a favor to Simon Faber.”

  “So you know him well?”

  “Barely at all, to tell the truth. We met in Ashthorpe. He proposed I join his group to seek the job offered by the lord of Dryton. If he hadn’t spoken with me in the tavern, I would probably be miles away right now, looking for the next tourney to compete in. That’s what I usually do.”

  “I’m happy you’re here instead,” she said, feeling very shy. “You take well to this work—the men all respect you. I saw today how they jump at the slightest command. You’re a natural leader.”

  Rafe laughed at that. “I’m nothing of the sort. Simon and his boys are just green. Any authority would seem wise to them.”

  “You are too modest.”

  “That, my lady, is not something I’ve ever been accused of.” Rafe gave her a wicked grin.

  “What is a more common accusation?” she returned playfully.

  “Oh, too handsome, too charming, too clever…that sort of thing.”

  “Not modest at all, then.”

  “As I warned you when we first met,” he said.

  Seeing a large fallen log near the edge of the pond, she stopped. “I’d like to sit here a while.”

  “We have time.”

  “You could sit with me…unless you need to keep watch, lest a deer or a rabbit comes to attack me?”

  “I’ll risk it,” he said, sitting down just close enough that if she reached out she could touch him. “The local rabbits are probably not a threat.”

  She laughed. “You don’t act like any other knight I’ve met. Not that I’ve met many. I enjoy talking to you.”

  Rafe gave her wink. “Don’t get used to it, my lady. At your nunnery, you’ll endure days of silence. Or endless prayer.”