Perils of Wrath

by Park, Elsie

  So the couple I saw in the ledger weeks ago are my parents. But their recorded death had marked them as being disgraceful. Did he want to pursue his quest into their true character? He watched the flames dance for a time, the Griffiths allowing him a moment to ponder in silence. He’d come all this way for this one thing. He shouldn’t give up on it now even if the news about them turned out to be less than worthy. “Fletcher,” Roland repeated. “The name suggests either their trade as arrow makers or that they were of Scottish heritage, or both.” Roland held his breath.

  “They were Scottish, not crafters of arrows,” Liliana affirmed. “But good people they were.”

  Roland closed his eyes and let his breath out, relieved by her simple yet powerful statement of them being sound.

  “They came from different regions of Scotland that were at odds with each other,” Richard explained. “Their families wouldn’t allow them to marry, so they ran away to England to be free of the prejudice between clans. They married and moved into a little home next to ours. They worked the land and made an honest living like the rest of us. Many accepted them into the English fold, but there were some who viewed them with suspicion simply because they came from Scotland.”

  “Some thought they might even be spies,” Liliana added.

  Roland stared into the fireplace, knowing the same thought had crossed his mind.

  “Yes,” Richard continued, “and these troublemakers sought to have them arrested. But there was no proof, of course, for they were innocent. They were just a benevolent young couple seeking a happy life for themselves and their child.” Roland looked up at that. “When you were five years old, Sharee unknowingly caught the eye of Sir Doyle. She was a beautiful woman with lovely auburn hair and brown eyes like yours. You resemble her so much. Sir Doyle had approached her with a proposition to become his mistress, but she refused him. He let her be, or so we thought. A few weeks later, when you were out playing in our garden as you often did, two hooded men driving a cart arrived at your parents’ house. We could see all of this from our back window. The faces of the men were concealed, but their spurs attested their knighthood, though no Guildon insignia was apparent on their surcoats. They were assuredly ordered to remain covert for the illegal act they were about to carry out.” Richard stopped speaking, his chin quivering as his troubled eyes studied the fire.

  Liliana continued with the tale, drawing Roland’s eyes to her. “The knights had with them a document allegedly signed by several villagers stating proof that Olin and Sharee were traitors. This was a lie of course, and any decent person knew it. Olin challenged the knights with his pitchfork, but one of the brutes drew his sword and hit Olin over the head with the hilt, knocking him to the ground. The other knight hog-tied him. When we saw what was happening, I grabbed you from our garden and hid you inside our house. Sharee ran out of your home to Olin’s side, screaming at the men to leave him alone, but the first knight grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides while the other gagged her mouth. They tied her hands as well.” Liliana audibly swallowed, her eyes moist with tears. She looked to Richard to continue.

  Having composed himself, he explained, “I was mending an injured leg at the time, but I approached the knights with my sickle and demanded to see the document and names of those who’d signed it. The knights ignored me as they loaded your bound parents into a cart and then set fire to your home. I wanted to do more, but I knew I was no match for their swords, and I would be of no use to you if I were arrested as well. When they left, one of them lopped off the top of my sickle with his sword. I never got a good look at their hooded faces. As the cart rolled away, Sharee’s frantic eyes glanced in the direction of our garden where she’d last seen you.”

  “When she saw me in the open window,” Liliana said, “I mouthed to her that you were here with us, assuring her we’d protect you, but I still don’t know if she ever realized my subtle message.” Liliana sniffed and wiped her nose with a cloth from her mending basket. “We tried to put out the fire, but it destroyed your entire home. We were only able to keep it from spreading to our own.”

  Roland pictured the charred remains of the house next door, feeling a sick emptiness at its loss even though he held no solid recollection of it.

  “Your parents were hauled away to the dungeon.” Richard quickly stood up as if sitting was too relaxed a position for the subject. “We didn’t see them again until months later when their bruised and battered bodies, barely holding onto life, were brought out and hanged for all to see. They weren’t suspended for long before they were pronounced dead and their corpses were burned, erasing all evidence of the foul treatment they’d endured. Though their death was by hanging, I’m confident they had been tortured so brutally that they would have died from their injuries even without being hanged.”

  Liliana wiped the moisture from her eyes with her fingers.

  Roland was too angry for tears. The heat had risen in his face during the story, increasing in temperature as his teeth clenched and ground against each other. The injustice of it, all because of their name, their homeland, bigotry, and fear. It was all he could do to keep still and allow the Griffiths to finish their account. He wanted to find the culprits and make them pay for what they had done to his innocent kin.

  “You hadn’t seen anything that had happened, Roland, and I was afraid to tell you the truth, afraid it might scare you.” Heavy emotion filled Liliana’s voice. “So I told you that your parents got sick with an infectious disease. The house had to be burned and you had to be taken away for your safety. The dishonorable knights probably figured you’d died in the fire. The border was laxer at that time, so to keep you safe, Richard and I took you to my sister in Graywall to get you away from here. If they’d ever learned you were alive, I knew they’d kill you. They’d never let the Fletcher line continue, not even through an innocent child.”

  Roland spoke, his voice hoarse with barely suppressed emotion. “Was Sir Doyle behind their arrest and death?”

  Liliana hugged her arms to her chest, one hand rubbing the opposite arm in a self-consoling fashion as she met Roland’s gaze. “We don’t know for sure, Roland. No one does, or at least they aren’t admitting if they do. And no one’s ever confessed to signing the document either. Though we have our suspicions that one of the signees might have been Hauber, there’s no proof. The whole thing reeks of deceit. It seems suspicious that their arrest occurred soon after Sharee’s refusal of Doyle. We’ve heard plenty of stories about Doyle’s ruthless treatment of prisoners. In a way, Doyle is more feared than Lord Craven is, for where Craven openly shows his anger and brutality, Doyle prefers doling out his cruelties in the privacy of his dungeon, thus allowing for more vile acts. But I’m sure he has Lord Craven’s blessing to do whatever he wishes. They’re both tyrants.”

  Roland again recalled the horrifying screams resonating through the castle halls. “I’m surprised so many live under Craven and Doyle’s hostile rule. Why haven’t you moved elsewhere?”

  “Easier said than done, Roland,” Richard said, shaking his head. “It’s not easy to relocate, to start again somewhere else. People move in, but they are kept from moving out. Many villagers have only heard of the brutalities of Lord Craven and Sir Doyle but have never been personally affected by them. They know that if they work hard, lay low, and don’t do anything to stir up trouble, they might make it through this life unscathed.”

  “But my parents did just that, and still they suffered the wrath of Guildon’s lord.”

  “Yes, but they were Scottish,” Liliana reminded him, “and that, unfortunately, kept them from lying low in our guarded territory. They were always watched because of that. And Sharee’s bravery in not giving in to Doyle’s appalling proposition also set a mark upon them, costing them their lives. Many people choose to acquiesce rather than stand for what’s right. It’s not often you meet people as courageous as Olin and Sharee Fletcher.”


  A heavy silence hung between them for a time as Roland processed this shocking report. He wanted to lash out at something, anything, to release the anger he felt against the evil acts and evil people, but the statement from Emmy came to mind. You need to control your temper, especially over things you cannot change. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, forcing his red-hued thoughts to calm and clear. He could not change that his parents were dead, nor that someone had murdered them, but he could find the perpetrators and have them held accountable for their crimes.

  But how to unearth them? He’d need proof of their involvement, and that would take more sneaking around, more searching, more questioning. The task ahead of him seemed daunting, and he longed to solicit help from the Griffiths but didn’t dare for fear he’d be asking too much and placing them in danger. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his task. Craven might keep records other than the ones Roland had already found in the library. But records regarding shady dealings—if kept at all—would be placed under lock and key. Who might have them? Where could he search? His eyes focused on the dark-red cloak, the color of wine, hanging on a peg by the fireplace. It seemed so familiar—

  “Roland,” Liliana’s quiet voice broke into his thoughts, “can we help with anything?”

  Roland shook his head. “No, Lili. It’s a noble gesture, but you’ve already given me so many answers. If my continued search leads to trouble, I don’t want anyone linking me to you. And you take enough risk just having Lady Gibbons’s school here. No, the fewer from the castle connected to this home, the better.”

  Liliana wore a worried expression. “I’m wary of things that go on inside that stone edifice, the evil and twisted dealings there, and I fear for your safety. In your quest to discover your parents’ offenders, you might well be digging up an entire graveyard of horrors. The dark secrets behind those dungeon walls may best be left untouched, Roland.”

  He agreed with Liliana’s caution. He’d be stirring up a hornet’s nest for sure. “I’ll be careful, I promise. And again, thank you both—for everything.” He had so much to do.

  He stood and grabbed his cloak, somewhat drier, hanging near the dark-red one. The wisp of lemon reached his nostrils again and made him pause. His brows turned down. Had Audri left her cloak here the night before? He tried to remember if she’d donned it when they’d left, but he couldn’t recall. There was no reason to think she’d forget it on a cold, damp night. How many people had red cloaks like hers? Quite a few, he guessed, but how many carried the fragrance of lemon?

  Liliana stood and gently took his cloak from his hands, breaking him from the muse. She placed it over his shoulders and then took him in a tight embrace. “Even under the somber circumstance, Roland, we’re beyond happy to see you again.” He hugged the sweet woman back and then turned and shook Richard’s hand.

  “Don’t think twice about visiting again, if it’s safe,” the older man invited.

  Roland smiled and nodded, grateful to have good friends he could trust with his life. “Maybe I’ll accompany my squire on weekends and attended her classes. I should really brush up on my penmanship.”

  “Oh, do, Roland, do!” Liliana exclaimed with a titter. “Fancy that, a knight learning from his squire.”

  Roland grinned. “Oh, I learn something from her every day . . . like how to keep my temper around a frustrating woman.”

  Liliana laughed again, sending a brief glance in Richard’s direction, then, with a touch of soberness, said, “She’s a good lass, Roland, a champion to the villagers. Don’t let her tough crust blind you to her tender heart.”

  Roland studied Liliana’s eyes and saw unwavering love and respect for Audri. “I’ll be more mindful of her feelings, I promise, but I still have to train her.”

  “Understood,” Liliana accepted, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I’m sure she appreciates hearing that.” Liliana’s eyes suddenly widened, her hand moving to cover her mouth. She quickly dropped it back down. “I mean she certainly would appreciate it if she were here to hear it.” Liliana chuckled, but it seemed forced.

  Roland glanced at Richard. The elderly man stood rooted in place, his face expressionless save for a pair of panicky eyes darting between his wife and Roland. Roland’s own eyes narrowed, his head turning again toward the wine-colored cloak hanging on the peg.

  “Audri,” he murmured to himself before repeating her name at a louder volume. It was touched with impatience. Liliana and Richard stood unmoving, looking at each other as if uncertain what to do.

  Roland’s eyes searched the room for the place she could be hiding. His gaze rested on a thin curtain separating the main room from a chamber leading off from it. The curtain waved, evidence of movement behind it.

  When no one emerged, Roland clasped his hands behind his back. “Will you come out, or do I have to come in after you?” He spoke as if to a disobedient child.

  A few tentative seconds passed before the curtain was listlessly swept aside by a hand belonging to his squire. Everything that had been discussed tonight—she had heard it all. He wasn’t sure if he felt more anger at her being there against his orders or relief that it was she who heard and no one else. In the dim light, Roland saw her body tremble, though whether from the fright of being discovered or from the cold, he didn’t know. She lifted her chin, attempting to cover the uncertainty in her eyes. The look tempered his growing irritation.

  A knight couldn’t have a squire who didn’t listen to him. But she’s no ordinary squire, is she? he told himself as she came to stand before him. The fire illuminated her shapely figure, probably weighing close to nine and a half stone7 now, and he had the urge to wrap his arm around it and pull her to him.

  He frowned, checking his thoughts. The woman had defied him once again. He should be livid; why wasn’t he? Perhaps he was gaining control of his anger.

  Roland’s gaze returned to the chamber doorway, searching for any sign of Lady Pritchard, but it appeared Audri was indeed alone. Audri glanced at Liliana and Richard, then back at him. She courageously stared at him, her stance not only confirming her deliberate disobedience but that she would bravely take any punishment he doled out because of it. He fought the urge to smile, so used to her stubbornness now. It’s what made Audri, Audri. And he liked Lady Audrina Gibbons. Liked her very much. Maybe more than a knight should like his female squire. He felt he could rely on her to keep his secrets.

  “Lady Squire, we are leaving . . . now.” He kept his voice calm but with an undertone that warned against further insubordination.

  She didn’t say a word to him as she removed the old cloak she was wearing and handed it to Richard. “Thank you,” she said to the couple before brushing past Roland to retrieve her own cloak by the hearth. After donning it, she stepped to the door, her back to the household, and waited for Roland without looking at him.

  Roland turned again to the Griffiths, who still looked as if they didn’t know what to expect next, and gave them a second adieu.

  “I have much to discuss with my squire,” he said in a loud, stern voice, but he winked at the Griffiths, letting them know she’d be all right in his care even in her penalties. Their stiff postures relaxed, shoulders dropping a notch as smiles lit their faces. They trusted him, and that gave him a feeling of peace.

  Roland turned and stepped to the door behind Audri. Audri turned around and looked up at him. It surprised him that his thoughts were not on her defiance but on the large russet orbs staring back at him. He must have stared at them too long because she looked down. Roland caught a blush on her cheeks before she turned back to the door. The trance broken, he stepped past her, lifted the latch, and walked out into the drizzle. Audri followed.

  Sloshing their way through the near-empty streets of the village, Audri barely kept up with Roland’s swift pace. Roland hadn’t spoken a word to her since leaving the Griffiths, and she cou
ld only imagine what terrible punishment he was formulating in his mind for her. She’d been so surprised at his words in the Griffith’s home when he said that she’d grown on him. That pleased her, no, thrilled her that he didn’t hate her, that he truly liked her. It was funny that she’d originally set out to hate him and make him hate her back, but oh, what changes a few months brought. Warmth filled her body, keeping her balmy in the cold air.

  Her mind raced around the things she’d learned of him tonight. He was the adopted son of the honorable Beaumont family. No wonder he kept that information hidden. If anyone knew of his powerful family ties, he’d be the target of action for everything from false flattery from those trying to gain his favor to imprisonment for ransom. But the horrifying story she’d overheard of his birth parents persisted foremost in her mind. Now that she knew his coming to Guildon was no accident and that he might have a vendetta against the very men she detested, she was overwhelmed with hope for her future. She yearned to help Roland in his plight, to bring his parents’ murderer to justice and to gain his aid in return to liberate her mother from the abuse of her stepfather. She could be his strongest ally, and he, hers.

  But how to convince him of that?

  As they strode past the closed bakery, the smell of yeast still mingled around its walls, tantalizing her senses and briefly chasing away the pungent odor of the street. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten for hours but hadn’t noticed until now. Clearly her training and strict eating schedules were doing her good.

  A few buildings had overhangs, allowing moments of relief from the rain as they kept under them as much as possible. Before reaching the castle walls, Roland stopped under the cobbler’s porch and turned on his heel to face her. Having little time to stop, she bumped into his strong chest. Startled, she stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet. She felt her body tipping, and her arms reached out in an instinctive attempt to steady herself. She would have fallen had Roland not grasped her upper arms in his hands and pulled her upright again. The movement brought them within inches of each other, and she could feel the heat of his body. She inhaled his spicy aroma, feeling safe near him. She’d never felt that way around any man; the sentiment was so foreign. Her heart pounded a quick rhythm as she shrugged out of his hold and stepped back, creating some distance from the knight who caused her such strong emotions.