“Are we certain that this information is correct?” asked Lord Kyule, his voice a little doubtful. “I have heard nothing of this.”
“Considering the fact that I have assigned you the task of discovering plots such as these, I suggest you be more silent over your ignorance, Kyule. The reminder of your incompetence puts me in no good humour with you,” responded King Ine sharply.
Lord Kyule’s expression did not alter, his eyes continued to stare at those gathered with the faintly glassy expression that was usual for him.
“It seems then that we should prepare for war.” Lord Drogand looked rather pleased at this prospect. Lord Brogan frowned in disapproval. In his opinion war was the final stand, reached only when every other path had been exhausted.
“Kent and Mercia have always been enemies,” responded Lord Kyule. “Such enmity will not disappear overnight. Any agreement that might be reached cannot be imagined to be anything but short lived.”
Lord Drogand snorted.
“Even enemies can find unity in a common cause.”
King Ine twisted his beard around his finger.
“What do you think, Brogan?”
Lord Brogan was silent, weighing each word carefully before he spoke it.
“If there really are plans to unite Mercia and Kent, there are ways to foil them that do not involve war.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“At this point in proceedings, when trust is fragile, it would be easy to plant the seeds of dissention without any need for fighting.”
“You always seem to think it is better to avoid conflict,” grumbled Lord Drogand.
“That is because conflict is a failure to settle things reasonably,” answered Lord Brogan.
“You cannot reason with Kent!” scoffed Lord Drogand. “They are not to be trusted.”
“Words, I have no doubt, that have been echoed in some form or other, kingdoms over,” replied Lord Brogan. “Nevertheless someone has to be the first to offer the trust of negotiation.”
“And to look the fool when trust is repaid by deceit,” returned Lord Drogand.
“I agree with Lord Brogan,” interjected Lord Kyule. “An act of war on Kent could strengthen the bond between them and Mercia, in which case we would find ourselves at war with both.”
“And ‘tis not certain that we would be victorious,” continued Lord Brogan.
King Ine nodded his head in agreement.
“I am sorry Ramm but I think that caution might be the wisest course of action.”
Lord Drogand tried vainly to hide his chagrin.
“My liege must do as he sees fit.”
King Ine was not really attending to him anymore, but was staring at the missive in his hand in great perplexity.
“Such an endeavour as this requires careful handling,” King Ine murmured thoughtfully. “I think that Rafe’s talents would be better served with this problem than in Merrodon with those argumentative fools.” He cast the parchment on to the table. “I believe he will excel in finding an answer to this situation.”
“Perhaps, my lord, it might be wiser to send someone a little more experienced in matters of subterfuge.” Lord Kyule’s voice was soft.
Lord Brogan quelled a sudden rush of anger at this slight to Rafe. It was Lord Kyule who had missed the signs that this problem was brewing, and now he had the audacity to call Rafe’s ability in to question?
“What do you mean?” King Ine demanded shortly. Lord Kyule placed the tip of his long finger to his upper lip, smoothing the hair of his beard.
“Anyone can see that Lord Rafe is very capable but…” Lord Kyule raised his eyebrows a little. “He is still young and perhaps in such a delicate matter as this, the wisdom that comes with age and experience might be required.”
Lord Brogan, seeing the direction which Lord Kyule was going to take, could not help thinking that it was slightly ridiculous for Lord Kyule to cast himself as a wise elder when he was barely six years older than Rafe.
Lord Kyule was young to hold the position of advisor, but his bravery and valour in the battle of Calis had earned King Ine’s respect and gratitude.
It took King Ine several seconds to find the meaning of Lord Kyule’s remark.
“You wish to see to this affair yourself, you mean?”
“If my liege is not opposed to the plan,” replied Lord Kyule bowing slightly.
King Ine did not look best pleased and sat in irritated silence for a moment.
“I suppose it would be best to start straight away, but when Lord Rafe arrives you and he will handle the matter between you.”
Lord Kyule made a small gesture as though he would speak but King Ine cut him off.
“That was neither a request nor a suggestion, Kyule, but is precisely what will happen!”
“As my liege wishes.”
Lord Brogan saw anger flair up in Lord Kyule’s eyes and then, as he blinked, saw it carefully hidden away. Kyule was always trying to prevent King Ine from charging Rafe with his errands, reflected Lord Brogan. Perhaps it was because Lord Kyule so heartily disliked Rafe, a feeling that Rafe reciprocated entirely. They hated everything about each other, Rafe always said that Lord Kyule was like an eel; slippery and hard to pin down.
Maybe it was their differences that made them so incompatible. Rafe was open, Lord Kyule secretive. Rafe was boisterous, Lord Kyule strangely silent and always watchful. Rafe spoke plainly, Lord Kyule used words to hide the true meaning of his dialogue.
Neither man had any time for the other, and Lord Brogan was pretty certain that Rafe would greet King Ine’s suggestion in much the same way that Lord Kyule had. Lord Brogan knew it was best for Rafe to have at least a hand in the matter. It was not only parental pride that made him so certain that his son would complete the task, any task, better than Lord Kyule. Rafe had something that everyone else lacked: he had Finan and Leofric, two friends who would help him in all he did. What man with such an advantage could possibly fail at anything he turned his hand to?
“’Tis settled then.” King Ine looked slightly relieved, as though the problem had been weighing heavily on his mind. “You may leave me.”
The three men present bowed deeply in respect and turned to leave the great hall.
“A moment if you please, Brogan.”
Lord Brogan paused, lifting one eyebrow in inquiry.
“There is yet something I wish to discuss with you.”
Lord Brogan returned to the table and seated himself opposite his king. King Ine was looking disturbed, his eyes troubled, and a droop to his shoulders that worried Lord Brogan.
“What is it, Ine? This thing seems to have hit you harder than I imagined it would.”
King Ine passed a weary hand over his brow.
“The matter is delicate,” he replied. “You remember, Brogan, the battles that took place between ourselves and Kent during the uprising. I lost my uncle, Mul, to the Kentish revolt. When peace was finally made it was decided that a marriage alliance should take place, bringing us closer together. King Whitred had a daughter of his second wife, a girl named Cearo; it was through her that an alliance was to be made,” King Ine sighed. “However King Whitred married again, a Lady Waerburh of Folton, this time aligning himself with a house of Mercia. That marriage produced another son. It is that son who reigns jointly with his brothers now, under the guidance of his mother’s brother, Lord Folton.”
“He rules with his brothers?”
King Ine nodded gravely.
“Cearo’s mother was Whitred’s second wife, his first bore him two sons, Aethelberht and Eadberht, they are some years older than Cearo and Aelfric.”
“And they have no objection to Lord Folton? You think that it may prove impossible to destroy the treaty between them and Mercia?” asked Lord Brogan.
“This has been something I have feared for years,” replied King Ine. “I made Cearo welcome here on several occasions even after Wihtred had married again. It had even been decided up
on that she would marry Lord Gournay’s eldest son Cenric and bring our two kingdoms closer together. After Wihtred died and his sons took power, I saw a change. Cearo was no longer allowed here to visit me, the betrothal between her and Cenric was broken, and all communication ceased.”
Both men were silent for a while, and Lord Brogan became aware of a rather drawn and grey look upon his friends face.
“You think that Lord Folton is controlling Kent through his influence over Aelfric?”
“Undoubtedly, Aelfric is only a boy yet to reach his tenth year.”
“And what of the girl?”
“Cearo? She was betrothed again, this time by Lord Folton to a lord of Mercia.” King Ine looked across to his friend. “I thought you should know that Rafe might understand a little better the task before him.”
“Yet you did not see fit to acquaint Lord Kyule with these facts?”
King Ine’s face took on an expression of grim displeasure.
“He sought to force himself into this affair when I had made it plain that he was not wanted. Very well; if he will be so insolent as to try and force my hand, he can ferret out these things himself.”
------
Adele lay staring at the walls of the tent. She should have been asleep, goodness knew she was tired, but somehow that oblivion was beyond her reach. Eda was motionless on the makeshift bed Druce had constructed for them, and every now and then she gave a contented sigh.
Adele remained completely still and listened to her friend’s rhythmic breathing. She knew she was not going to be able to sleep until she had faced it. She had suspicioned it before, when they had left Finn to Lord Gradock’s mercy, but she had known for certain when she had seen Finn and Randwulf engaged in altercation. Her only concern had been for Finn.
Adele turned her flushed face into the furs. If she was honest with herself, she found herself thinking about Finn far too often. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt more foolish. She was promised to Lord Rafe, how could she have let this happen? To attach herself so inappropriately, and to a man whom it was probable she would see every day of her married life.
And Finn? What would Finn think of her if he knew? Adele flushed again. Of all things she hoped he would never find out that his kindness to her had been received in such a way as she had taken it.
She groaned, how would she face Lord Rafe now? To have betrayed him so terribly after his many kindnesses to her over the years, after his patience. She felt so full of error, but she did not see how she could have avoided the situation she found herself in. She had not even realised that she had become emotionally involved. She had thought that she and Finn were friends, the same as she and Randwulf were friends. It had only been when she had seen the two men engaged in combat that she had realised that this thing she felt for Finn was far, far different.
It scared her.
It was so unknown, so powerful, trapping her, tangling her in a vast web of confusing emotions and loyalties. She felt herself pulled this way and that; lost, hopeless, and somehow so very alone.
Why had no one warned her of this? Why had Lord Rafe put her in this impossible position? No, that was not fair. How could he have known the events he would set in motion when he sent Finn to collect her? Surely this was as cruel a twist for him as it was for her?
Adele bit her lip, feeling a sudden rush of pity for her betrothed. Since the beginning she had been nought but trouble to him, and yet he had been so kind. Never would she give him pain or cause to regret that kindness. She would pay back her dues in full, and return all that he had given her so freely. She would make recompense with the years that they would spend together. She would make those years happy, she would make him happy. More importantly, she would forget this foolish feeling for Finan of Gournay.
And Finn? He would lose nothing, for he did not want her anyway. Adele closed her eyes and was still. It seemed as though she must be asleep, and maybe she was, but there were tears on her cheeks.
Chapter Twenty