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 not 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.