Chapter 25
Angelet seemed to spend a long time adrift, half asleep, half awake. She remembered fragments of conversations with Cecily and a few other women, but no details. The room was sometimes light and sometimes dark. Breathing occupied much of her attention, since every time she inhaled, an ache pulsed through her whole chest. She was very lucky to be alive, and she sent several prayers to Mary in thanks. The mother of God must have extended a hand to deflect the shot, protecting another mother out of compassion.
Her dreams sometimes included scenes of the visions she had in the past, from the golden city in the clouds to the black figure she thought of as an angel. But she never lost control of her body as she did when the seizures came upon her, and for that she prayed thanks to her nameless angelic protector.
Even after she awoke from her deeper dreams, Angelet still felt adrift and lost. But at least she could enjoy a new gown. When Angelet was well enough to get out of bed and walk around the chamber, Cecily offered her one that she had recently put away due to her pregnancy. It was a lovely soft blue wool. Along with a new shift in a crisp white, Angelet felt like a different person. Perhaps she was, considering how much had changed for her in a few short weeks.
While walking, she stumbled, and Cecily reached out to steady her. “Careful! You don’t want to turn an ankle and be stuck abed longer!”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” Angelet said miserably, as she shuffled to the bed. She felt winded after only a few steps.
“Then you should stay here while you decide,” Cecily replied.
“You’ve done so much already, my lady. I cannot impose.”
“Nonsense. Guests are rare enough. Don’t deny me a lady’s company for a while. I’ll send word to your family at Dryton—”
“No, you must not do that!” Angelet said.
“Why ever not? They will worry once they hear you’ve not arrived at Basingwerke. They’re likely already worried, if news of your broken carriage and the bodies of the slain are reported to them.”
That had undoubtedly already happened. But Angelet still shook her head. “Please don’t send word, at least not until you’ve spoken to Sir Rafe about it. Heed him—he’ll know what to do. There were men following us and I’m not sure it’s wise to alert anyone to where we are. Not yet.”
“You set great trust in Rafe,” Cecily observed.
“He earned it! He defended me, and brought me here. Without him, I would be dead.”
Cecily said, “Rafe does seem to have cared for your well being. But if I may be so bold as to counsel you, don’t blind yourself with gratitude.”
Angelet blushed. Did the other woman somehow guess that she and Rafe had shared a bed? “I don’t think Rafe is like most men.”
“No, he’s not at all, and that’s what worries me. You think you know Rafe, but I’ll wager there’s much in his past he’s told you nothing of.”
“What?” She knew there was something, but Rafe had never confided in her.
Cecily sighed. “I’ll leave him to tell it, if he dares. I would not tell the story properly. We’re all too close to it.”
It was a cryptic line, but Angelet didn’t want to press the other woman since the topic obviously distressed her. But when she next saw Rafe, she would try to steer the conversation to learn more.
In the great hall, she slowly ate some hot broth with warm, crusty bread speckled with green bits of wild onion. Rafe joined her at the table, his eyes filled with questions he couldn’t ask out loud. Beneath the innocuous talk they exchanged, she sensed his concern. She also recognized how fiercely she’d missed him during their time apart. Cecily’s warning seemed to evaporate when she looked at the face of the man across from her. Still, she wanted to know more about him.
Angelet asked him, “How did you come to be in training here? Under de Vere specifically, I mean. Isn’t that usually reserved for sons of relations, or friends, or those in alliance? That’s why my Henry was fostered where he is now.”
“I don’t know,” Rafe said. “I asked him directly, only once. He said he did it out of Christian charity, and could tell me nothing more. Perhaps he owed a favor to someone, and taking me on was sufficient to repay it.”
“Or someone owed him a favor,” she countered. “After all, having you as knight must have benefited him. He had one more to send when the king asked, and one more to defend his own walls. Although no one could have predicted your skill, not if you were only…eleven, did you say, when you came here?”
“Eleven or close to it. Too young to know if I had a gift for fighting.”
“Well, no one can now dispute that you have.” She gave a little laugh, then winced, putting a hand to her aching chest.
Rafe leaned forward. “What’s wrong? Should I find Lady Cecily?”
“No, I just need to mind how I react. Too deep a breath or too sudden a movement and I can feel it.”
“I can walk you up to your chamber. You should rest.”
“I’m sick of resting,” she said. “I’ll go mad if I’m confined to that bedchamber another day.”
“You won’t, and it’s not worth it to push yourself if you only collapse back. Don’t you want to get to your son in Dorset? Think of him. I can’t escort you there if you can’t even walk from one floor to another.”
“It feels so far away.”
“Yes, but if that’s where you want to go, then that’s where I’ll take you. You didn’t hire me to sit around, after all.”
Was he annoyed by the diversion in their journey? Well, of course he was. He didn’t want to be at Cleobury. “If you wish to leave, Sir Rafe, you can. You can make a better living if you return to fighting tourneys, or hiring out for someone else. I have no claim on you.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, then said, “Not many tourneys to fight in, once summer comes. That’s when the real battles begin again. Who knows what Stephen or Maud have planned for England? I don’t want to be in the midst of that.”
“So you’ll stay?” she asked, trying hard not to sound as if she were begging.
“I suppose,” he replied. “But you must rest. The second I hear you’re violating Cecily’s instructions, I ride out that gate.”
She smiled, unreasonably happy with that response. “Thank you.”
“Good. Now, I’m taking you to bed.”
“Rafe!” she warned.
He gave her a too-innocent smile. “So you can rest. What’s the matter, my lady? Did you think I meant something else?”
“Stop that,” she said in a low voice, though she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “This is hardly an appropriate time.”
“But eventually it will be, and we still have an agreement, don’t we?”
Was that why he agreed to stay on? Angelet doubted it, since Rafe could have any woman he wanted. Still, the idea that he was only interested in her recovery so they could resume their more intimate relations chilled her.
“Angelet?” Rafe took her hand. “You know I’m only teasing you.”
“Of course I know that. I’m just tired. I should rest after all.”
Rafe walked her back to her room, behaving perfectly the whole time. He’d always been able to do that, she recalled. Proper in public, and very improper once they were alone. She wished he wasn’t so good at switching his demeanor. It made it impossible to judge his true feelings, assuming he had any feelings for her deeper than lust.
When she was alone in the bedchamber once more, sleep eluded her. Instead, she thought of Rafe, realizing how little she knew of his past actions or his future intentions.
* * * *
The days passed quietly. In general, Angelet was recovering well, and soon felt much closer to normal in a physical sense. She could move and walk and perform all her usual tasks just as well as she used to. She explored the manor’s house and grounds as her strength returned.
Cleobury was about the same size as Dryton, but it felt much busier, with steady traffic coming through the gates from the nearby village and the surrounding countryside. Some folk carried in goods that had been made by the town’s craftsmen. Others brought in food—a cart of grain in one case, several braces of rabbits in another, or a basket full of pungent mushrooms harvested from the forest to the west. Everyone seemed to know each other, at least to call out greetings or chat for a few moments. Laughter broke out frequently, and the whole mood was so different from the grim atmosphere of Dryton.
The reason had to lie with those who ruled here. Lady Cecily appeared to have business in every building and field at some point. If she wasn’t directing some effort, her lord Alric was. The man was on his feet from sunup to sundown. Angelet had to struggle to remember Otto when he wasn’t at ease. Apparently, the real lord of the manor—Cecily’s father—was away. But Alric seemed to be well prepared for the part. Cleobury would be in good hands for another generation. Or two, considering Cecily’s condition.
Watching the lady absent-mindedly put her hand on her belly made Angelet think of her own child. She had to reach Henry before Otto found her. And she couldn’t do that until she got well enough to travel. Everything was in the air till she recovered, so she dutifully swallowed every tisane and followed every command when it came to her health. At Cecily’s orders, she did not overexert herself, though she did not enjoy feeling useless.
She didn’t have funds to repay Cecily for all her charity, so she instead offered her labor. Luckily, she could mend, and the ladies of Cleobury had plenty of mending to do. There were so many people about, there was always a supply of things to be repaired or improved—clothing, linens, sacks, and more. Angelet joined the group of women as if she had every right to, and soon she was quite happily stitching away.
She sewed several items for Cecily’s expected child, and used her skills with embroidery to make those items special. The women who worked as seamstresses in Cleobury all cooed in approval, and several of them asked for advice. Angelet gave it happily. At last her few domestic skills were proving useful in a small way. As she worked, she listened to the ladies gossip around her.
“Have you met Robin yet?” one of the ladies asked one day, gesturing to a new face in the room. “She’s a ward of Lord Rainald, and we are attempting to teach her some of the skills of a lady.” The woman’s tone hinted at how difficult the task was.
Robin stabbed at her work with the needle, muttering every time she made a mistake, which was frequently. She huffed out sighs, and generally acted as though she’d rather be plunged in an icy river than make another stitch.
Angelet smiled. Robin was several years younger than Angelet, with a slim body that was nevertheless fully into womanhood. The way the girl’s eyes kept flicking to the window made it clear she wanted to fly out of the room.
“When the weather grows warmer,” Angelet said to her, “you can take your work outside. It’s pleasant to embroider in the sun, and never a worry about having enough light for the task.”
“Aye, but I’d still be sewing, wouldn’t I?” Robin sighed.
“What would you rather be doing?”
“Nothing appropriate to a lady,” the matron in charge interjected. “Robin must learn calm and comportment. And patience. Sewing teaches all these things.”
Robin rolled her eyes.
“And respect!” the matron added darkly. “I despair of you, Robin. You’re a hoyden at heart.”
Angelet sought to rescue the girl. She stood, wobbling a little for effect, and said, “I fear I must lie down again. Could someone walk me to my chamber?”
“Yes, of course!” Robin was already on her feet and stepping toward Angelet before anyone else could reply. Her sewing lay unregarded on the floor.
Angelet let Robin take her by the arm, playing up her unsteadiness. Once they left the room, however, she suggested a detour to the courtyard. “A little bit of fresh air may help me.”
Robin nodded, just as eager to get outside. The courtyard of the manor bustled with activity. Workers brought in firewood and supplies. A young boy led a sheep on a rope toward the kitchens. Grooms exercised and brushed down horses by the stables.
“That white one is yours, is it not?” Robin asked, pointing toward one of the horses.
Angelet walked toward the paddock. “She is the one I rode before, though she’s not mine. Beautiful animal.”
“I love horses,” Robin said. “Being able to ride is the one good thing about being a lady.”
“You speak as though you haven’t always been one.”
“Of course I wasn’t!”
“You mean you were a child.”
“I mean I was free,” Robin said hotly. “No long heavy skirts to trip me up. No sewing. No sitting for hours and hours inside the manor because that’s what ladies do.”
“But as a lady, you’ll be protected and cared for. Is that so very bad?”
A look of remorse filled Robin’s face. “I shouldn’t say anything. Lord Rainald has done everything for me and I owe him my life. I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but no one asks what I want to do!”
“No,” Angelet agreed. “No one ever asked that of me either.” Well, Rafe asked. Asked and asked and asked until she revealed her very deepest desires, and then he did his very best to fulfill them. She grew hot under her clothing, and tried to get her mind back to the actual topic. “They mean well, our families. At least most of the time.”
“Is it true you’re going to take the veil?” Robin asked, looking at her sidelong. “I heard that you were on your way to a nunnery when…things went wrong.”
“That part is true enough. As for whether I will take the veil now, I cannot say.”
“What’s changed?”
“The nunnery wasn’t my choice,” Angelet said. “It was a compromise.”
“A compromise? Lord, what was the alternative worse than a lifetime of being trapped behind walls?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Just then, a flurry of movement at the other end of the courtyard made her look over. There he was. Rafe, dressed in black as usual, walked along with several other men, who all seemed to be guards or men-at-arms. They were headed for the practice fields and didn’t see the two women.
“Look at that. He’s got a retinue now. Surprised anyone would spar with him,” Robin muttered. “After what he did.”
“Who did?”
“Sir Rafe.” Robin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you not know?”
“Know what?” Was this the same thing Cecily hinted at? She knew that Rafe had some falling out with Alric, and that he had been very reluctant to return to Cleobury until Angelet’s dire state demanded it. “Tell me what happened. Please.”
“Sir Rafe tried to murder Sir Alric.”