Raven’s Rise

by Cole, Elizabeth

  But he had no choice. Rafe held Angelet on the saddle in front of him. The rough binding over her wound was already splotched with red. More disturbing than the physical injury, though, was her unresponsive state. Her eyes often opened, but she seemed to see nothing, hear nothing.

  Before Rafe was ready to confront it, they reached the shadow of Cleobury. Rafe pulled his too-tired horse to a stop, then pulled his hood over his head.

  “Goswin,” he said. “This is Cleobury. You’re going to have to speak for Angelet.”

  “Me? Why not you?” the boy asked, taking in the scene. The manor looked to be in an excellent state, with freshly ploughed fields surrounding the walls, and quite a few people moving about. Any one of them could recognize Rafe.

  “I won’t be welcome here, boy,” he muttered. “I can’t explain now. When we reach the main gate there, just ask for Lady Cecily. Tell the guards that Angelet needs her care.”

  Taking a deep breath, Rafe kicked his horse back into movement. Goswin followed on his pony. When they neared the gate, Rafe slowed again, this time out of caution. Cleobury was a fortified manor, after all, and the men on watch were trained to be wary of strangers.

  One guard shouted down for them to state their business.

  “Hallo! Hallooo?” Goswin shouted up toward the tower. “Help! Please let us in. We’ve a lady with us who needs care!”

  A moment later, the wicket gate opened, and two guards came out.

  Rafe kept his head lowered. “Keep chattering, Goswin. And no matter what happens, don’t say my name.”

  “Friends!” Goswin said. “We seek a Lady Cecily! This woman was hurt on the road, and needs aid!”

  Rafe still held Angelet in his arms, and when a guard approached, he slowly lowered her prone body down to the other man, though he hated the idea of giving her up to any man. Luckily, the guard’s attention was riveted on her face, pale and unconscious. Rafe’s plain cloak and hood made him almost invisible, at least for the moment.

  “Dear Lord,” the guard said. “Is she breathing?”

  “She’s alive, but she was struck by a bolt!” Goswin said, leaping down from his pony. The concern in his voice was very real. “Please get her inside!” He rushed to help the guard who was now holding Angelet.

  “Send for Lady Cecily,” the guard told his companion. He glanced back at Rafe, but didn't seem to recognize him, or even look at him very hard. “You can take the horses to the stable,” he instructed, already dismissing Rafe from his mind.

  The guard and Goswin went ahead of Rafe, who deliberately hung back, using the horses as a shield from unfriendly eyes. However, all the focus was on Angelet as they passed through the gatehouse and into the courtyard.

  “What has happened?” a voice called out.

  Rafe looked over to see a woman striding out of the great manor house, and was hit with an overpowering sense of regret. Yes, it was Cecily, that same person he first met as a child, and one of the people he’d betrayed.

  At the moment, she looked as though she might have been roused out of sleep. She took in the spectacle of Angelet and instinctively pushed back the sleeves of her gown, already preparing to do whatever needed to be done. “Who is this woman?”

  “Her name is Lady Angelet,” Goswin supplied. “She needs help! We were traveling, and—”

  “Enough! Tell me more later. She must be brought inside,” Cecily said.

  As she spoke, the whole party moved toward the manor house—all except Rafe, who walked backwards until he was in the shadows of an outbuilding. He knew Cleobury very well, and he could get inside these walls again if he had to…at least, if Goswin did not betray him. If he did, Alric would tear the place apart stone by stone, and the surrounding area tree by tree, until Rafe had nowhere to hide.

  Until that moment came, he could hide. He knew that Angelet would be cared for. Cecily was a healer by nature and training. She would do everything she could to make Angelet comfortable.

  But all Rafe could do now was wait.

  Chapter 23

  Angelet awoke in an unfamiliar place. She blinked, looking around in confusion. Soft spring sunlight filtered in through the open window. The room seemed too large to be meant for one person, and certainly too lavish for her. This was someone’s home, not any religious house or infirmary run by a holy order.

  She felt the bed linens under her fingertips…marvelously smooth and soft fabric, finer than anything she’d slept on during her years at Dryton. The tight weave of the linen was closer to that of the altar cloths Angelet embroidered. As she turned her head, she reveled in the feather pillow. The scent of lavender—dry, warm, and summer-sweet—surrounded her. Something had gone wrong, and she’d been mistaken for a princess.

  Then she remembered something had gone very wrong. She’d been hit with a crossbow bolt. Angelet put her hand cautiously to her chest. But the wound was now padded and bandaged. There was still pain, but it was only a dull pulse.

  Someone had cared for her in an expert manner. Who?

  Before Angelet could sit up or call out, she heard a voice from the other side of the door. Then a woman walked into the room and went directly to the open window, all the while humming quietly to herself. She had golden hair looped and braided around her head, a style suited to a highborn wife. The lady’s left hand rested on her belly, which was rounding with an obvious pregnancy, and she tapped her fingers in time with her little song.

  She’s singing to her coming child, Angelet realized with a pang.

  “Hello?” she asked out loud.

  The woman broke off singing and turned from the window. She smiled at Angelet with a warmth beyond mere politeness. Had they met before? Angelet felt as if she knew the other woman, though she couldn’t think where or when they ever would have met.

  “Good day, my lady Angelet,” the woman said. “You are doubtless confused, but I assure you that you’re safe here.”

  “Where is here?”

  “This is the manor of Cleobury, in Shropshire. Do you not know the name?”

  Angelet shook her head, and promptly groaned at the wave of dizziness that assailed her.

  “Oh dear, lay back. You need more rest.” The woman was at her bedside in seconds, pushing Angelet back against the pillows and smoothing her forehead with a cool hand. “I am Lady Cecily. My husband is Sir Alric Hawksmere, and my father is Rainald de Vere. Do these names sound at all familiar? Your boy asked for me specifically.”

  “My boy?” Angelet felt so confused. Had she somehow come to the place where her son was being fostered?

  “Goswin.”

  The image of wild, red-haired Goswin floated into her memory. “Goswin. Oh, yes. I’m sorry, but I remember nothing of what happened. I suffer an affliction, you see…”

  Cecily gave a crisp nod. “One that strikes your brain first and then your body, leaving you unconscious and unable to move. It appears that the wound you received must have caused you to suffer a fit. No surprise—when the body suffers, the soul feels its pain. All healers worth their salt know this, whether a midwife or the most learned doctor.”

  Something in Cecily’s tone—the lack of fear—made Angelet say, “You tended me? You’re a healer? I thought you the lady of the manor.”

  “I am both of those things,” Cecily said. “I have worked for years to help my people with whatever ailments come their way, from winter coughs to more serious illnesses. The plants from my garden are very useful in many cases.”

  “You spoke as if my symptoms were familiar. Have you seen anyone like me before?”

  Cecily’s eyebrow arched. “No. But I will do what I can for you. Have no fear.”

  “You don’t even know me.” Why was this stranger offering such assistance? What did she want from Angelet? Money? A favor of some sort? Did she think that Angelet was more important than she actually was?

  “But I do know you,” Cecily was saying. “You’re Angelet, and I am Cecily. Women in this world are all sisters, in a wa
y. That is enough, is it not?”

  “My family ties are much more knotted than that,” Angelet said miserably.

  “Well, tell me when you’re recovered. I think we shall be friends by the time you leave here.”

  “Leave?”

  “Not till you wish to,” Cecily said, patting her hand. “You’ve been through too much to hurry outside of the gates again so soon!”

  “How do you know what I’ve been through?”

  “Goswin said that you were being chased by someone. Was it brigands? This part of the shire is generally clear of such bands, but they are always a risk for travelers. Where did it happen?”

  “I cannot say,” Angelet answered, honestly enough. “All I remember was a crossroads, and a hill…but yes, someone was after us, and meant us great harm.”

  “Us…meaning you and the boy Goswin? Was there no other?” Cecily’s voice held a newer, sharper curiosity. And no wonder. It would be very odd for Angelet to travel all alone, without any protection like Rafe’s.

  Angelet frowned. Cecil had not yet mentioned Rafe. Was he not here? Had something happened to him? Her gut went cold at the thought. “There was another! I must speak to Goswin. Now. Please, it’s important!”

  “Hush, dear, hush.” Cecily restrained her from getting out of bed. “I’ll send for him immediately.”

  To her credit, Cecily did just that, and soon Goswin entered the room on tip-toe, looking about as if he were entering a shrine.

  “You asked for me, my lady?” He spoke in a near whisper.

  “Goswin,” Angelet said, gesturing to a stool set by the bed. “Sit. You must tell me what happened.”

  The boy’s eyes slid toward Cecily, in a clear warning that what he wanted to say had to be kept private. Oh, what had she missed while in her seizure?

  Cecily, however, seemed oblivious to any strain. She got up from the edge of the bed. “I’ll leave you two to chat. Just call out if you need anything.” She glided out of the room and pulled the door mostly shut.

  Goswin stared hard at the door for a long while, his head tipped carefully, listening for footsteps.

  Then he sighed. “I think she’s gone.” He leaned toward Angelet. “This place is like a town, my lady. There’s a wall around, and men-at-arms on guard at all times.”

  “You’re saying we’re prisoners here?” she asked.

  “No! Nothing like that. Everyone’s rather kind, actually,” he added, with heavy suspicion. “I can pass through the gate whenever I like.”

  She held out her hand to Goswin. “Where’s Rafe? Why did Lady Cecily think we came here alone?”

  Goswin looked over his shoulder and leaned even closer. “He’s around, but he’s hiding.”

  Relief warred with confusion. Thank God Rafe was all right, but why on earth would he hide from their rescuers? “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  “He wouldn’t say,” Goswin told her. “He knew all about Cleobury though, and insisted it was the only safe place to bring you. But I gather it’s not safe for him. He said he must not be seen by any of the inhabitants.”

  “That makes no sense. Surely people who would care for a stranger would welcome the knight who brought her!”

  “I don’t know, my lady. He won’t talk about it.”

  “So you’ve seen him since you brought me here?”

  “Yes. He meets me outside the gates just after sundown. He always asks about you. I’ll tell him you’re awake again.”

  Just then, the door squeaked open and Cecily stepped in. “That’s long enough, boy! Lady Angelet must not be agitated.”

  “Be careful,” Angelet told Goswin in a low voice. “And tell him to be careful too. I can’t lose either of you.”

  “Yes, my lady!” Goswin sprang up from where he was sitting and dashed away before Cecily could ask him anything or detain him.

  “My goodness,” Cecily said, looking after him. “That’s an energetic youth.”

  “Boys are like that,” Angelet said, thinking of how Henry used to run for hours, seemingly without tiring.

  “I hope my little one will be more calm,” Cecily said, putting her hand to her belly again. “Or mayhap I don’t! What’s more delightful than watching a child be a child?”

  “Your first?” Angelet asked.

  Cecily nodded, bliss covering her features. “I cannot wait to meet him. Or her! I shall find out in June.”

  “I wish you all happiness now,” Angelet said, “for I will be gone by then.”

  “Where will you go? Where are you from?” Cecily asked, turning her attention to Angelet. “Your boy Goswin was a little vague on that point. And his own memory concerning the event seemed quite hazy. Very few people earn such loyalty as that boy has for you.”

  “I’ve not earned it,” she said. “Goswin is naturally cautious, that’s all.”

  “So what did happen? Surely you didn’t ride though the forest with only a page.”

  “No. I was part of a much larger entourage. I had intended to go all the way to Basingwerke Abbey, near Sheffield. I was to be a postulant. But then our whole group was attacked on the road, and I fled…and now I am here.”

  “This is a long way from the Nottinghamshire road.”

  “I’m afraid my plan was not well thought out. Goswin probably was trying to protect me. If he told the story as it happened, I’d sound as if I wasn’t in my right mind.”

  “Your wound was fresh, though. You were attacked again, closer to here?”

  “Yes. Or at least, I don't think it was far. I’m afraid I am useless,” Angelet confessed. “I wish I could give you a better answer.”

  “It’s understandable, considering what you’ve been through. All travel carries greater risk now. War is rupturing this country. We are lucky that the king has kept order here in Shropshire, more or less. But there is always the threat of violence. And then with the Welsh so close…” She looked at Angelet and gave her a sunny smile. “Not to fear though! My husband Alric is a knight by training, and he has made Cleobury the safest manor in England.”

  “That is reassuring. I will have to repay you for your hospitality.”

  “You may begin by recovering from your wound,” Cecily said. “I’ve prepared a tisane that will help you sleep.”

  Behind Cecily, a maid approached, bearing a tray on which sat a little pot. From the top, fragrant steam wafted upwards in a languid curl. The smells of mint and apple and honey teased Angelet’s nose. Cecily poured a cup and served Angelet herself, behaving much more like a healer than a great lady. “Drink this. It will help you sleep. Don’t mind the bitterness.”

  Angelet did detect a sharp note under the honey. “What is it?”

  “Willow bark. Most pungent, but good for many ailments. Perhaps even your other affliction will be eased. Who knows?”

  After she finished the drink, Angelet lay back down. Cecily pulled the shutters on the window closed, dimming the room. “Call out if you need anything. There’s always someone close by.”

  Cecily left. In the ensuing silence, Angelet pondered the changes in her circumstances. She been sent away from one manor, attacked on the road, and barely escaped with her life thanks to Rafe. They then traveled for days in an attempt to retrieve her son and return to her childhood home, all the while growing dangerously close to one another. Angelet was even having second thoughts about her determination to go home. But before she could gauge Rafe’s feelings, that second attack came out of nowhere. And once again, Rafe had managed to save her from the worst fate, leading her to this new place that seemed as welcoming as Dryton had been cold. So why was Rafe unable to share the welcome? She wouldn’t know until she could speak to him. Maddening.

  She lay against the pillow and closed her eyes, wishing he could be with her now.

  Where was he?

  * * * *

  Rafe was tantalizingly close to Cleobury, able to see through the gate, but not willing to walk through it. Spring was advancing in this part of the
country, and the leaves were bursting out on all the trees now. The undergrowth was even further along, which was fortunate, because the green wall created by the shrubs and vines gave Rafe somewhere to hide while he watched the walls. The manor bustled with activity from before dawn to after dusk. Merchants from the village came and went on errands, and the many residents of the manor were constantly passing through the gates as they went about their tasks. Workers marched out to the farm fields and gardens outside. Women washed clothing and gathered water from the nearby stream. Some people even had work to do in the forest, and Rafe was careful to avoid them in particular.

  Only Goswin knew where he was. For the past three days, the boy had come out to the woods to tell Rafe how Angelet fared. Rafe couldn’t rest till the time Goswin told him that Angelet seemed to be recovering. According to the boy, she was now awake and seemed in good spirits. Hearing the news secondhand wasn’t good enough for Rafe.

  “Where is she? You say you were in her chamber. Where precisely in the manor house is it located?”

  Goswin looked alarmed. “You can’t go in there! You said so yourself.”

  “I need to see she’s well with my own eyes.”

  “You’ll get lost. I can’t describe it well enough.”

  “I know the place well. Just tell me.”

  Goswin told him the location of the room, but he looked unconvinced about the wisdom of Rafe’s decision. “If it was unwise for you to go there in the first place, what’s changed now?”

  Now Angelet is there, he thought. Rafe only shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, boy. You go back in, and follow the routine you’ve started. Tonight, go to sleep in the dormitory with the other boys.”

  “How do you know about the dormitory?”

  “I used to sleep in it myself, when I was a boy,” Rafe said.