“Brogan?”
Lord Brogan of Valrek halted in his progress across the courtyard, and turned to face the man who had hailed him.
“Ramm, I did not expect to find you here.”
Lord Brogan clasped hands with Lord Drogand, smiling.
“I wished to see if my liege had need of me,” answered Lord Drogand.
“And is Leofric with you?”
Lord Drogand shook his head, and they continued to walk across the yard together toward the house.
“No, Leofric has gone to Merrodon to see if he might be of any help to Rafe.” Lord Drogand’s brow clouded a little. “It will do him good to finally be useful to someone,” he muttered.
Lord Brogan did not betray either surprise or dismay at this utterance, but continued in his measured pace.
“Rafe is always telling me the great help and comfort that Leofric is to him on campaigns, the relief that it is to him to have someone on whom he can depend completely.”
“It is nice to know that Leofric has such a solid companion, one who over looks certain… deficiencies.”
Lord Brogan was silent. This was not a subject he wished to discuss with Lord Drogand, for Lord Brogan had always deplored the way that his friend belittled his son. Firstly on principle, but also because he had a great fondness for Leofric and enough understanding of his mind to know that the boy was greatly hurt by his father’s manner.
It was, however, unlikely that Lord Drogand would submit himself to a homily on this subject, and there was little point in disrupting their friendship with words that Lord Brogan had no doubt would be ignored by Lord Drogand.
“’Tis said that war is imminent betwixt Kent and Sussex,” remarked Lord Drogand after an uneasy silence.
“War is always imminent between Kent and Sussex, ‘tis traditional.”
“Almost as traditional as war between Mercia and ourselves.”
Lord Brogan shot his friend a reproving stare and shook his head.
“You should let old grievances pass, Ramm, there is little point in engaging in battle with Mercia. Their strength is as great as our own, we should be stirring a hornets’ nest of unrest.”
Lord Drogand laughed gently.
“I never thought to see you so poor spirited, Brogan. When I think of how it was with you when we were boys. You were never more pleased than when a fight loomed. I distinctly remember that when Lord Fordal buckled under the threat of attack, after we all had decided that there was nothing for it but bloodshed, you indulged in a fit of sullenness that I have never seen equalled. ‘Tis my belief that you would still be brooding over it if it had not been that you met Ebba and decided that after all life was still worth living.”
Lord Brogan smiled at this reference to his wife.
“Yes, well, as that may be, there is a reason for such behaviour,” answered Lord Brogan. “‘Foolishness is tied up with the heart of a boy,’ I have out grown such things.”
“Have you my friend?” queried Ramm with a slight smile.
“Perhaps.”
They walked on in silence again.
“Have you seen King Ine?”
Lord Brogan nodded.
“Yes, I have been with him this hour and more.”
Both men came to a halt outside a large wooden building and Lord Ramm opened the door, walking into the busy great hall. The air was stale and carried the taste of smoke, along with the savoury fragrance of meat.
“And what of you, Ramm?” asked Lord Brogan moving through the throng and sitting down in one of the great chairs drawn up to where a fire blazed. Lord Drogand stretched a hand out towards the heat of the flames.
“Not as of yet; King Ine has been too occupied to see me.” Lord Ramm lounged back in his chair with a slight shrug. “It matters not, I have the time to wait.”
Lord Brogan called a page to his side, and ordered that a goblet of spiced wine should be brought before them. He then settled back into the soft furs that covered his chair.
“You look tired my friend,” observed Lord Drogand, his eye narrowed a little in thought.
“’Tis naught.” Lord Brogan lifted his hand in a lazy gesture of dismissal. Lord Drogand let the matter drop but continued to gaze at him, a faint furrow between his brows.
“I have heard, Brogan, that the dispute between Lord Merrodon and Lord Coughly…” His voice trailed off, eyes sliding away from those of his friend to gaze with fixated interest on a spark that glowed hotly on the hearth. “There are those who say it cannot be resolved,” he finished.
“And why do they say that?”
“Because, at its heart, I believe the problem between them is a matter of pride.”
“Yes, I should imagine that it is,” Lord Brogan answered, taking a sip of his wine. “It was foolish of Lord Merrodon to enter into negotiations with Coughly if he was not sure that he would carry the thing through. It was even more reprehensible of him to hold up Coughly’s jilted son as a figure of fun to the family he finally did choose to bestow his daughter upon.”
Lord Drogand’s head snapped round sharply, and for a second he stared at Lord Brogan in astonishment.
“You knew?”
“But of course I did; Rafe told me weeks since.”
“Rafe knew?”
Lord Brogan’s deep chuckle rumbled softly across the space between them.
“You underestimate Rafe, Ramm, you always have.” Lord Drogand made as if to argue but Lord Brogan raised his hand silencing him.
“No, Ramm; you do underestimate him, just as you have underestimated others.” Lord Brogan’s voice was gentle but his eyes, beneath their drooping lids, were steely.
“Do not we all upon occasion?” Shrugged Lord Drogand dismissively. “You know, I have just recalled the finish of the scripture you quoted: ‘foolishness is tied up with the heart of a boy, the rod of discipline is what will remove it far from him.’”
-------
Rafe was awakened by the extreme coldness of his hand. He had stirred at some point during the night, and his arm was no longer covered by the cloak. He straightened and made to stretch before remembering Adele.
Her head was still lying pillowed on his shoulder. In her sleep she had curled a little closer to his warmth, tucking her hand beneath her chin. He looked down at her for some time, studying her sleep flushed cheeks and the dark fringe of lashes that lay against her skin.
She was somehow very beautiful; not striking perhaps, but quietly pleasing. When awake her eyes drew all attention, mesmerising with their luminous wonder. While she slept it was possible to take in the finer points of her features; the smooth skin, the delicately sculpted mouth that seemed to smile even through the oblivion of dreams, and the thick hair that framed her face.
It was an odd feeling to watch her slumber, to feel her soft warmth within the circle of his arm, and the rise and fall of her breathing. It was almost guilty, as though he were witnessing something which he had no right to see. He couldn’t remember ever having watched Aisly or Esme sleep. It seemed suddenly a painfully personal thing to observe, something he had no right to be doing.
He would have liked to allow her the luxury of resting a little longer but knew he could not, not after last night. He didn’t know who those men were, or what they had wanted, but he did know that he wished to put as much distance between them and Adele as possible.
“Lady Adele?” He shook her shoulder gently, and felt her move away from his touch with a sigh. “Lady Adele.”
Her eyes opened, their gaze dreamy and unseeing, and she blinked once, twice, and a third time.
“Is it morning already?”
“Unfortunately, yes, my lady,” replied Rafe, “and we should resume our journey as quickly as possible.”
Adele was rubbing her eyes sleepily, but at his words she nodded and reached out to where Eda lay, still fast asleep.
“Wake up, Eda, ‘tis morning.”
Eda moaned and pulled the cloak up over her head. <
br />
“Now, now, Eda. You know that I can never be forceful before breakfast, so do not be difficult.” Adele slowly got to her knees and crawled out from beneath the outcrop. Standing in the cold morning air she pushed some wisps of hair back from her face.
“Eda, look; the rain has stopped and there is even a little sunshine!”
“T'will rain later I do not doubt,” came Eda’s muffled voice from beneath the cloak.
Adele unbound the leather tie that held her hair tidy, and began to comb out the plait with her fingers as she turned toward Rafe.
“She will wake up in a moment, Finn, she may even deign to breakfast with us.”
A muffled snort sounded from beneath the cloak, and Adele laughed. Rafe continued setting out the rye bread and chicken. It was only as he came to slice off a portion of cheese that he remembered that his dagger was buried in the tree by which the men had hidden. He stood, leaving both women to go and retrieve it. Adele watched him go, wondering why he seemed so distant and troubled with the arrival morning.
“Eda, if you wake up I shall tidy your hair for you.”
The cloak inched down a little and Eda regarded her speculatively.
“You would?”
Adele nodded. Eda slowly pulled herself upright, giving a groan.
“I am so stiff, I could not even tell you.”
Adele smiled as she lifted Eda’s silken hair back from her face and pulled a comb through its luxuriant length. Sectioning the hair, she patiently tried to untangle the disordered curls. When Rafe returned it was to find Adele frowning and Eda wincing.
“We shall have time to eat before we go then?”
“Yes, I suggest you breakfast well for we will not stop again today until we make camp tonight.”
“Why are you in such a hurry? Ouch, Adele! Do try to be gentle!”
Adele murmured her apologies, and continued to pull the comb through Eda’s hair. Eda winced and scowled as the comb caught on another knot and snagged.
“Why are you in such a hurry anyway?” she asked snappishly. “Not that I had noticed that our previous pace was relaxed.”
Eda waited for Rafe to respond to her question, but he said nothing and continued to apportion the food in silence.
He could tell them, but what would be the gain of such an action? Maybe it would impress upon them the importance of accomplishing this next stretch of their journey as quickly as possible. Then again it might just make them even more upset and anxious to know the further trouble they faced.
He looked up to find Adele’s eyes upon him, they did not question or rebuke him for failing to answer Eda’s question. They were filled with warm concern that, it seemed to him, stretched across the space that divided them and poured a soothing balm on his spirit.
Rafe had never known a feeling like he experienced then, could not explain it. All he knew was that as he looked at her it was as if time had stood still. The breeze rippled through Adele’s hair sending long strands to float lazily on the air and brush against the column of her throat. If he had been closer Rafe knew he would have been hard pressed not to reach out and catch one of the snaking tendrils between his fingers. He shook his head and looked away. Never before had he experienced such a desire, and even now he was embarrassed by its foolishness.
Adele watched him turn away, saw the dull colour spread over his features and wondered what had caused his embarrassment. Even as she turned back to continue to comb Eda’s hair she wondered if she would ever truly understand Finan of Gournay. Would she ever see more than the little that he allowed her to see? She felt as though there was so much that he hid from her, so much of himself that he withheld and kept in reserve.
She was startled to hear his voice when he spoke. She had thought that he would ignore Eda’s question but now he answered, the words coming hard and bitter from his mouth. He wouldn’t look at them, but his eyes fixed on the fire with disgust and revulsion churning in their depths.
“The lands which we must pass over today belong to Lord Gradock. Lord Gradock bears a grudge against Lord Rafe, if he finds us on his property he will kill us.”
“My, my; is not Lord Rafe a well liked man, Adele?” remarked Eda. “What did he do to inspire such devotion?”
“He killed Lord Gradock’s son, Bertolf.” Rafe stood, tucked the dagger into his belt, and walked to where the horses grazed peacefully.
“Killed!” gasped Eda hoarsely. “He said killed, Adele. Great goodness for all we know Lord Rafe may have a Wergild on his head!”
Adele was silent, eating her portion of rye bread and cheese with a thoughtful look upon her face. This new piece of information did not fit the image she had built up of Lord Rafe.
“Adele, have you naught to say to this?” demanded Eda. Adele continued to chew silently for a moment, until her eyes fell on the third untouched portion laid out on the cloth. She reached out a hand picking it up.
“Look; Finn forgot to take his breakfast.”
“Is that all? Are you not even a little put out by this news?”
Adele met her friend’s eyes, and Eda saw that they were as unconcerned as always they were.
“He really should eat it, I think I shall take it to him.”
-------
Rafe did not hear Adele approach, he was too busy cursing himself for being every sort of fool. Did he wish to make her hate him? Did he want her to fear him? Why then did he have to phrase it like that, so baldly and without explanation. He had wanted to elucidate, to defend himself, but the words had stuck in his throat, choking him and bringing back the memory, the sickening feeling of helplessness.
How could he defend himself? Bertolf of Gradock had been a drunkard and a trouble maker, but that did not make Rafe feel any the better. He still felt heavily the blood on his hands.
“You were so insistent that we take our food, Finn, and yet look: you forgot your own.”
Rafe stared at the parcel she held out to him for some time, but when his hand finally did reach out it was to wrap his fingers around her wrist.
“It is not what you think.”
“If you knew what I was thinking you would know that you need not tell me that. I know Lord Rafe would never kill an innocent man.”
Rafe’s grip tightened, turning his knuckles white.
“But he was… or at least…” Rafe turned from her, sitting down on a fallen tree and resting his head in his hands. “We were banqueting in the king’s hall.” Rafe caught himself. “That is, Lord Rafe and I.”
He could not quite meet Adele’s eyes as he made the correction, but stared away through the trees. Everything he said seemed to draw him deeper into this deceit, even when baring his soul to her he could not be completely honest.
“The banquet was held by Prince Aedelred in honour of the men that had fought alongside him to repel a raid made by Mercia. Bertolf was there, and as was his habit he had drunk to an excess. He and Prince Aedelred disputed over some small matter and eventually came to blows.” Rafe paused, taking a deep breath and staring at a bare patch of earth kicked up by the horses.
“Lord Rafe separated the two of them, but Lord Gradock’s son staggered and fell against one of the benches. The fall broke his neck.” Rafe’s face twisted bitterly, and Adele suddenly found his eyes upon her. “You know; Prince Aedelred could not even recall over what they had quarrelled. So stupid, such a pointless waste of a life.”
For a moment they sat in silence, and Adele could see a terrible guilt in Rafe’s face.
“It seems to me that Bertolf’s life had already been wasted, Finn. What happened was not Lord Rafe’s fault.”
“Tell that to Lord Gradock,” returned Rafe. “If we had not been there that night, his son would live still. Whose fault is that if not Lord Rafe’s?”
The silence that greeted this question was broken by Adele standing abruptly. Rafe watched the colour disappear from her face and her eyes fill with fiery anger.
“’Tis no
t your place to make such an observation concerning your lord, Finn.” Her voice was tight and shaking with the effort to remain controlled. “You are mistaken if you suppose that I should be so disloyal to him as to let you speak such things.”
For a moment both stared at the other; Adele in trembling fury, and Rafe in complete surprise. He felt strangely humbled that she should show such loyalty to him, it grated horribly on his conscience when he thought that in return for her loyalty he was deceiving her.
This was the time to tell her, to admit the mistake…
Yet he had so much more to lose now; her trust, her friendship, the easiness between them, and now her loyalty as well. No, better to wait until they reached Merrodon. His mouth opened that he might explain, but he had no words.
“Why do you defend him?”
The second he had spoken he was aware of his mistake, but he was not sorry, he had a burning desire to hear her answer.
“Lord Rafe has been very kind to me, as I am sure he has been to you also.”
“Kind? He has ignored you for most of your life, yet you speak of his kindness?”
Sparks of anger flew from Adele’s eyes, and Rafe observed her hands clench in to fists.
“Stop! This conversation must end now, before one of us.” The look she gave him left him in no doubt as to whom she was referring. “Before one of us says something that cannot be forgiven!”
For a moment there was complete silence between them. It was broken by Rafe.
“Your pardon, Lady Adele.” He managed to gather his wits together just in time to save himself from a complete fall from grace. “I am sorry if I have overstepped my place.”
Adele looked slightly mollified, but continued to regard him with a faintly frosty gleam in her eyes.
“I know that it is hard for you to have us to take care of.” Adele’s voice came with difficulty. “I know that there are many problems that we are facing, do not think that I am unaware of the very great responsibility that weighs heavily on your shoulders. I know it is only because of these things, because you are tired and under stress, that you have spoken in this way, but… but do not ever speak so of Lord Rafe again.” Her eyes stirred with worry and something else that was not unfriendly, and suddenly her voice was anxious. “For we are friends, Finn, and I… Please, Finn, do not let us argue!”
“Adele…” He stretched out a hand towards her.
“I thought that we were supposed to be starting out early and hastening to cover this next part of our journey as quickly as possible?” Eda’s voice called from where she stood next to the smouldering fire.
“Just a moment, Eda!” Adele called back, but she hesitated and did not leave. “Was there something else you wished to say, Finn?”
Rafe stared down into her face, knowing what he should do but still hesitating.
“Adele…”
“Adele, are you coming?” Eda called again.
“In a moment, Eda.” Adele turned questioning eyes back to Rafe. He sighed, looked down, and shook his head. It would have to wait until they reached Merrodon, then there would be the opportunity to leave her alone with his revelation and give her time to adjust. He couldn’t tell her here when after the confession had been made they would have to continue on in such close company. Awkward did not seem to be a big enough word to describe the atmosphere that would reign.
“T’was naught, Lady Adele.”
She nodded her head uncertainly and turned away. Rafe watched her leave, wishing even as she did that he had told her. He hesitated within himself on the brink of calling her back.
He was confused. He knew what he ought to do, knew that at some point the truth would come out and that the longer he waited to tell her the more likely it was that she would find out by herself. The more time that passed, the more deceived she would feel, but he knew he had to wait, now just was not an acceptable time to try to explain.
“What is it, Finn?” Eda had appeared beside him, her cloak pulled tight around her shivering form, and an expression of worry not unmixed with irritation on her pretty face. “Nothing, my lady.”
Eda caught his arm as he turned from her. Her grip was surprisingly strong causing him to spin round to face her.
“Understand this, Finan.” Her voice was calm but filled with warning. “Lady Adele means more to me than you will ever know, and I can tell when something has occurred to distress her. Although I might not know you very well, anyone could see that you are ill at ease.”
For a moment they gazed at each other measuringly.
“I care not what you disagreed over, it matters not, but I wish you to understand that your responsibility toward Lady Adele is not just that you keep her safe, but that you keep her happy as well.”
“It is a fact that I am well aware of, Lady Eda,” replied Rafe grimly. “I have apologised for the whole and begged Lady Adele’s pardon. That must surely be enough to satisfy you?”
Eda continued to gaze at Rafe, her head a little to one side, a look in her eyes that he could not quite make out. It seemed to him that they contained a sympathy of sorts.
“You should be careful, Finan, for that which you are beginning to lose you cannot retrieve, and that which you are beginning to crave is not yours to request.” Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “In this I have experience, Finan, and I know that this path leads only to great heartache. Try to do that which I could not and turn from the road before you.”
Rafe frowned down into her reflective face. He was unsure of her meaning but aware that, whatever it was that she was trying to convey to him, it was in genuine kindness that she did so.
Her eyes earnestly bored into his, and in their depths he saw wistful sadness and great pain. Strange, but he had not paid Eda much attention. She had been an unnecessary bother to him, one who had the unfortunate habit of calling into question his every action, which annoyed him greatly.
As he had only ever noticed her when she had dissented or complained, his opinion of her was a little biased, based as it was on characteristics he found most irritating. Now he found himself wondering why she was so sad, so low in spirit that she would approach a man she barely knew and whom, from all that had passed between them, she did not seem to like, and give him heartfelt counsel.
He was still staring at her in sudden interest when Adele reappeared, her cloak wrapped around her shoulders and her eyes down cast. She did look different from usual he had to own. She seemed ill at ease, and for the first time when he stepped forwards to lift her on to Charger’s back he knew a moment of awkwardness.
It seemed suddenly a hard thing to slide his arm around her waist and lift her onto the great animal’s back. After he had released her and helped Eda to mount, he had the strangest notion that he could still feel Adele’s softness within his arms.
Adele did not look at him again, she stared rigidly down at Charger’s mane as though it absorbed all her attention. In truth she was trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding. It was only because she and Finn had argued, she told herself. Yet even as she assured herself she winced, knowing it to be a lie. Somehow a lie seemed safer than the truth. The truth was far more complicated and, to be quite frank, it filled her with fear.
Still, the truth would have to be faced. It would do no good to ignore that she had wanted desperately to comfort Finn by any means possible, even if it had meant being disloyal to Lord Rafe. Finn would never know how strong the desire had been and, as a consequence, her words had been harsher than she had intended.
She had known that to have wavered, even a little, would have destroyed her resolve and found her taking her stand upon Finn’s side. She could not have done that however much she liked him. The knowledge that she had sided with him instead of Lord Rafe would have hung between them forever, and ultimately it would have harmed their friendship more than the words that had been spoken at this time.
So why did she still feel regret?
Adele sighed he
avily; things had become so much more difficult since leaving the fort. She had thought that, even though her life had been reclusive, she had learnt a great deal of people and of how to coexist peacefully with them. Indeed she had believed that she had wisdom beyond her years in that respect.
Life within a house full of women could not but be filled, upon occasion, with a certain nervous tension. Not that the ladies at the fort had been trouble makers or malicious, for the most part relations between all were very cordial. However there had been moments caused by a wrong word or action, maybe only a misunderstanding, when there had been the unpleasant feeling of discomfort in the air.
Adele shook her head; but there had been nothing like this. She could not explain how it was different, she only knew that it was and that the discomfort she felt as a result was also entirely new. Maybe it was because she and Finn had treated each other with the easy companionship of friends. The recollection of their respective stations had been a jarring note of discordance.
She could not but be sorry for it, she understood the trouble that she and Eda were to him. Yet he had not reproached them, even when she had been practically useless after that first days ride and had needed to stop at regular intervals all through the next day to ease the pain of her stiff muscles. He had not even balked when Eda had been at her most irritable.
Perhaps there was more to the incident than Finn’s brief account had implied? Maybe there was a personal element to the story that he had not included, and which made his bitterness a little more understandable.
Adele was not sure what scared her more; that Finn could be so changeable, or the ease with which she found excuses for his behaviour.
Chapter Thirteen