Chapter 19
Rafe left Angelet, silently swearing that if anything happened to her, he’d shred her assailant to pieces.
He knew someone was following them. He’d suspected it all day. Losing a full day of travel had been stupid. They could have pressed on through the mist, but he chose to stay in the warmth of the inn, lured by the desire to have Angelet to himself for another night, especially when he wasn’t drawn out from a full day of travel.
Well, he’d got his night. And now he was paying for it.
Rafe continued to circle around to the road, listening intently for the slight sound of a horse’s hooves. He caught a shuffling, and loosed his dagger from its sheath. The close cover of the trees made his sword less appealing just now. But his dagger never failed him.
The shuffling came again, along with a low mutter. The pursuer, whoever he was, realized Rafe and Angelet had stopped. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to know that he’d been detected. Or that Rafe was so close.
Twenty paces, ten paces. Rafe could move silently when he wanted to, a talent that often surprised people who only saw his swagger.
It would definitely surprise the short, hooded man who was now five paces away, facing the other direction. He gripped a dagger in his right hand.
Rafe lunged, knocked the dagger from the man’s grasp with a well-aimed strike, and then used his left hand to seize the shorter man by the shoulder and swing him around.
“At last I got you,” Rafe spat.
“Got me?” a voice squeaked.
Rafe’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”
The person following him was hardly more than a boy.
The kid took a huge breath, then without warning, flung himself at Rafe, attacking with wild blows.
To fight him at his full strength would be murder, so Rafe simply parried the boy’s untutored attacks until he saw an opening. Then he used one leg to sweep under the boy’s feet, upsetting his balance, and then delivered a quick punch to the left temple.
The force of the blow—restrained compared to Rafe’s usual strength—sent the boy staggering backward a few steps. Then he fell heavily on his bottom. He groaned, clutching his head, capped with what could best be described as an explosion of orange curls.
Rafe sheathed his dagger. “Why are you following us?”
The boy maintained a sullen silence.
Rafe knelt and grabbed the back of the boy’s mantle, scruffing him like a kitten. “Speak. Are you a scout? Were you bringing back information on me, or the lady I’m traveling with?” he demanded.
“No!” the boy burst out, horror coming over his features. “I don’t know a thing about a lady.”
“Then why follow her?”
“I was following you!” the boy cried.
Rafe let him go, and leaned back on his heels, keeping level with the boy, who was still sitting in the dirt. “Tell me. Did Alric of Hawksmere send you?”
The boy looked confused. “Who?”
“Or perhaps he now calls himself Alric of Cleobury,” Rafe went on, though for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine Alric using a child as an agent.
“I don’t know any man of that name,” the boy swore. “I’m on my own business.”
“Business? What business could you have with me?” Rafe asked.
“A fight!”
He laughed out loud. “A fight?”
“Don’t you mock me! I want to fight you!” the boy said. “That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“If you saw me fight, boy, what possessed you to attack me just now? You didn’t honestly think you’d win?”
The boy sounded miserable as he spoke. “I thought that you’d be vulnerable if I could sneak up and strike from behind…”
“Thieves strike from behind, boy. Are you a thief?”
“No!” The boy looked up, his glare suddenly hot with emotion. “But you are!”
Rafe was truly confused now. “I’m no thief, boy.”
“You stole my brother’s life.”
Brutal as the accusation was, Rafe relaxed, thinking he now knew what ate at the boy. He said, more calmly, “Child, I’ve killed many men on the battlefield, true. But they were soldiers, just as I am.”
“Don’t call me a child. He wasn’t a soldier. You didn’t kill him face to face.”
“Explain yourself.”
“There was a tournament in Ashthorpe. You won. My brother was watching, and he begged you for a coin. Everyone heard that the Knight of the Raven is generous,” the boy explained, sounding distinctly unimpressed.
“So I gave him a coin and you’re accusing me of his death? How?”
“You gave him a few silver coins—so bright, almost white. He showed them to me, and I never saw anything so fine. But I wasn’t the only person he showed. Some others who came to watch the tournament had more in mind. They enticed him to play at dice with them. My brother was so dazzled by the silver that he wanted to add more to his stock. He followed them to where they said they were gambling. But as soon as the group was out of sight of anyone in town, the others turned on him. They attacked him and stole the coins.”
Rafe still wasn’t sure how that made him responsible for anything. “Then what?”
“One had a knife, and used it,” the boy explained. “My brother was stabbed in the belly for the sake of his new fortune. He managed to crawl to a street, and someone recognized him. I was sent for, and I ran to him. There was no hope. He told me what happened as he lay dying. He begged God for mercy, and none came. He died in front of a tavern, with only me to hear his last words.”
“Sorry I am for your loss, but I was not his killer,” Rafe said.
“No? You gave him the coins. He thought the angels had smiled on him at last. But you’re no angel. If you hadn’t given him charity, he’d still be alive. I swore I’d find you and take vengeance.”
“You’re young for vengeance, boy. How will your death help your brother now?”
“At least I’ll join him. We’ll be in a world where a few silver coins mean nothing. Kill me.”
“No,” Rafe said.
“Kill me! Or give me coins in charity, so I might die the same way my brother did! I’ve followed you this far. You owe me that.”
“I owe you nothing.” Though if the boy followed him all the way from Ashthorpe, he deserved something for his trouble. That required dedication and sheer grit.
“You took my only living family from me with your showy charity. Others might be fooled, but I’m not. You’re a fraud. A murderer who pretends to be a pious saint.”
Those words hit Rafe hard, in a way the previous accusations did not. “I’m not a murderer.”
“But you’re no saint, either. You curse everything you touch. A gift turns into a death sentence. I’ll tell the world about the Knight of the Raven!”
“Tell the world,” Rafe said, shaking his head. “I care not.”
“You do! Why else do you act as you do, offering all your winnings to the church and to the poor?”
“Because I do not need them.”
“Then why fight for such prizes in the first place?”
“Fighting is what I do.”
“Then fight me! Damn you, fight me!” the boy hissed, once again pushing at Rafe.
“Stop it! There will be no fighting!”
Rafe looked up to see that Angelet had found them. He’d been so intent on the boy’s story that he hadn’t even noticed her approach.
“You should have waited for me to tell you it was safe, my lady,” Rafe said gruffly. He wondered just how much of the conversation she had overheard.
“I decided it was safe enough.” She stepped up to them both and put her hands out. The boy stared at her in wonder.
“What’s your name?” she asked the boy as she helped him up. It occurred to Rafe that he hadn’t thought to ask the same simple question.
“Goswin, my lady,” he said, offering a clumsy bow as soon as he was on his feet.
“Goswin, you must not fight Sir Rafe. You wouldn’t win, and to go in hoping for death is no better than suicide. Would your brother have wanted for you to die like this?”
“I’ve got nothing left, my lady,” Goswin protested. “Nothing.”
“You have your life, do you not? Come with us, at least as far as the next town.”
“With us?” Rafe said. “How do we know he won’t stab me in my sleep?”
“Because Goswin will not break a promise to me,” Angelet said.
“He’s made no promise.”
She asked the boy, “Goswin, will you promise me that you will not hurt or kill Sir Rafe?”
“Or Lady Angelet,” Rafe added.
The boy looked between them, torn, then looked back at Angelet and whispered, “Yes, my lady.”
“Excellent.” She smiled at Goswin. “And I promise to protect you while we travel together. You know, you’re not much older than my son.”
Goswin was startled, casting looks between Rafe and Angelet. “You’ve got children?” he asked.
Rafe was about to correct the boy’s misapprehension that Rafe and Angelet were married. But then he caught Angelet’s quick shake of the head. She put a hand out to touch Goswin’s arm, and captured the boy’s attention again.
“Henry is just ten years old now, and we’re going to fetch him from his foster family. I wish you could meet him. But you can’t do that if you die in some foolish duel of honor. Understand?”
The boy nodded, his big eyes locked on Angelet’s face. Rafe guessed that he’d agree to practically anything she asked by this point.
She looked about. “Surely you didn’t run after us?”
“I hid my pony in the woods,” he said, pointing to the left side of the road.
“Then retrieve him and let’s get moving again. We have a long way to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“We’ll discuss that on the way,” Rafe said, still not trusting the boy.
While Goswin left to fetch his hidden horse, Angelet said to Rafe, “It’s all right if we keep him close, isn’t it? Better to know where he is.”
That was true. Rafe said, “He can come along for a while. I certainly don’t want him wandering around, telling anyone who asks that he’s seen us.”
Angelet smiled, pleased at his agreement.
They continued on, now with the addition of Goswin. Angelet, fortunately, seemed to have a knack for handling the boy. She suggested he ride ahead a little in order to scout out any potential dangers. “Would you do that for me?” she asked.
Of course the boy would. He was already urging his horse faster before Angelet got the whole request out.
“Stay in sight!” she called out after him.
“Why did you do that?” Rafe asked.
“Children like to be given responsibility…and that boy needs to feel useful, considering his bold quest for vengeance just got thwarted.”
“You’ve gained yourself a disciple,” Rafe said. “Goswin looks at you as if you’re the sun.”
She smiled sadly. “He’s lonely. He lost the family he had left, and now he clings to the first kindness someone offers. He’ll heal in time. Children are very hardy. They can endure so much more than we think.”
Rafe wondered if she was speaking of her own childhood, so abruptly ended with an early marriage and motherhood.
“You let him think we’re married,” he said next.
“It seemed simpler,” she replied. “He has enough on his mind. If ever we need to explain the true situation to him, we can. But why complicate things further?”
Why indeed, especially because the current misunderstanding meant that Goswin wouldn’t raise any questions about Rafe staying with Angelet every night. Which he definitely intended to do.
Assuming that she still wanted Rafe near her. Depending on how much she overheard, she might want to keep him at arm’s length.
“About what he said…” Rafe began.
“Don’t let it concern you,” said Angelet. “He was devastated by the loss of his brother, and he looked for someone to blame.”
“I was to blame.” Rafe had given the young man some money, and the young man was promptly killed for those same coins. Even when Rafe tried to do good, it ended badly.
“You were not! It’s just like the attack on the cortège. The only ones to blame were those who snuck up on unsuspecting people with the intent to murder them. It’s not as if you’ve ever tried to kill a man for the purpose of taking what was his!”
Rafe winced. Angelet’s blithe reassurance did nothing for him, because it hovered too close to the truth. If she ever found out what he did, all her confidence in him would evaporate.
“It doesn’t matter. Goswin will think what he likes,” Rafe muttered.
“He’ll come around once he gets to know you,” she said. “You’ll be a good example for him.”
“What a terrible idea.” Rafe was a good example for no one.
“Oh, I just had another idea. Goswin should be your page.”
“What?”
“You need one,” she insisted. “You do the work of a page in addition to your own, and there’s no reason for it. Why else do you have to pay stable boys to watch over your armor and such? Teach Goswin what he needs to know.”
Rafe sighed. “This is an order, isn’t it?”
“It’s a gentle recommendation,” said Angelet, with the pleased smile of a person who has just won an argument.
“All right, I’ll teach him what a page does, though he’s only going to be around until I can find a safe place to drop him off. But no more arranging people’s lives, my lady. We’ve got enough to worry about.”
She nodded, satisfied. Rafe almost laughed out loud in spite of himself. For someone who was never in a position of power, Angelet showed a natural aptitude for it. She had a dignity and grace that attracted attention, and she knew just how to wield her influence.
If only he was the sort of man Angelet thought he was. Rafe would disappoint her in the end, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. In fact, he wasn’t looking forward to the day he’d have to leave her. But it would come soon enough, and if he was lucky, it would happen before she knew the facts of his true nature.
As they traveled onward, Rafe realized he had another, more practical problem. Somehow, though he’d been aiming to go directly south, they’d been forced somewhat to the southwest, and now they weren’t just skirting the edge of Shropshire…they were well inside the northern borders of the shire. Exactly what he didn’t want. It was as if his inner demons drew him along all the roads he meant to avoid.
Still, if they traveled quickly and kept to themselves, it was a manageable problem. Perhaps Goswin could even be useful here.
They came to another village in the late afternoon, called Dunfield. Rafe knew the name, though it was far enough from Cleobury that he had never come this way, and no one would know him by sight. He hoped.
Once they rode into the courtyard of the large inn, Rafe quickly made arrangements for a night’s room and board. Then he returned to where Angelet and Goswin waited. The two were deep in conversation, and a casual observer would mistake them for mother and son.
“Goswin,” he called. “Come here.”
“What do you want?” The boy sounded sullen, but he walked over.
“Listen, after you get your supper, you’re to sleep in the stables. There’s a loft for the inn’s stable boys, with extra pallets for the pages of guests. I’ve paid for it already—don’t let any of the boys try to make more coin off you.”
“Aye.”
“You’re to feed and water the horses, and keep watch. Get the horses ready early. I want to leave here at first light.”
“Anything else?”
Rafe rubbed at his jaw. “If you see anyone near our horses, or asking after us, or if anyone just gives you a bad feeling, come find me.”
“I’m not the only one who was following you?”
“Evidently not. And at least one person has shot at Lady Angelet, so I’d rather not run into them again.”
Goswin’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll watch,” he vowed.
They ate, then Angelet went upstairs to the guest room while Rafe went out to the stables to see that Goswin knew what he was doing. When Rafe returned to the room, he stopped short in the doorway.
Laid carefully across the bed was a length of cloth, so dense with color and pattern that it was like looking through a window at a real scene. Except this scene was not anything he’d ever seen before.
“What is this?” he asked, approaching it.
Angelet, who’d been folding some clothing in the corner, said, “It’s the altar cloth I embroidered for Basingwerke Abbey. I had it packed in my own bag, and just remembered it. Do you think I could sell it for passage for a few people across the channel, and your horse as well?”
“You could sell it for a small ship of your own,” Rafe said. He’d been in many churches over his life, but he couldn’t recall seeing something as detailed and as rich as this art. He knew nothing about needlework, but he did know that this was unique in design.
A city in ivory and gold stood at the center, surrounded by fields of spectacularly intricate flowers and green plants. The whole thing seemed to invite him to walk directly into it, to walk up to the gates of this magnificent city.
“Where is this place?”
“Nowhere. Not in the world, that is. I saw this in one of my visions. It was so clear that for months afterward, I could close my eyes and remember the exact scene. I tried to imitate it as closely as I could, but it’s still not what I saw.”
“This is amazing.”
She gave a little shrug of her shoulder. “It’s cloth and thread. Nothing more.”
“It’s your vision.”
“I’d happily forgo all future visions if it meant I wouldn’t suffer the aftermath. You saw what it did to me at Dryton. And that one wasn’t nearly as powerful as some previous experiences. I fear I’m not made to be a vessel for divine revelation. It will break me at some point.”
Rafe looked over at her, concerned. “Is it getting worse?”
“I don’t know,” she said, though the possibility obviously scared her. “Both the visions and the pain afterward varies. And I never know when one will strike. The promise was that at Basingwerke, I might be healed.”
Rafe looked back to the cloth. If he ran an institution like an abbey, he’d promise nearly anything to gain such a skilled artist, especially one who couldn’t leave.
He ran his hand along the edge of the cloth. “How long did it take you to do this?”
“Mmmm, a few months, all told. I had a lot of time on my hands at Dryton. Just imagine what I had to look forward to if I’d made it to Basingwerke.” She shook her head. “What a legacy. Here lies Sister Angelet. She could embroider with rare skill. How inane.”
Rafe got a sudden inspiration. “If you desired a new skill, I could teach you to fight.”
She laughed. “Impossible.”
“Why? What’s a dagger or sword but a piece of thin metal with a point at the end? If you know how to wield a needle, you could learn to wield a sword.” He smiled, thinking of the image.
“I don’t attack the cloth as if it were my enemy.”
Rafe grew serious. “No, but you do have some enemies. Even today, when I had to leave you alone for a few minutes, wouldn’t you have felt better if you knew how to defend yourself, at least?”
“It would take far too long to teach me.” Angelet’s expression had grown speculative, though. She was interested in the idea.
“To master any skill takes a long time,” Rafe agreed. “But there are a few tricks that anyone can learn. With knowledge and a bit of practice, you could surprise someone.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are we still discussing swordplay?”
Now he laughed. “It wasn’t meant to be an innuendo. Though now that you mention it…” He leaned over to taste her lips. “You have surprised me.”
She kissed him back, but then said, “Could you teach me to defend myself? I have a dagger, but I’ve never used it for anything but slicing meat.”
“I’ll teach you, starting tonight. Now.”