Raven’s Rise

by Cole, Elizabeth

  “I’m standing in front of—”

  “Surrounded by gold,” she went on, oblivious to his outburst. “Gold as bright as the sun. Like the ocean at dawn.”

  Rafe got a twinge in his gut. He’d seen that vacant look before. Angelet must have been under tremendous strain all day, and now another seizure was imminent.

  Before he could say anything, Angelet took a step toward Ernald, then another. Ulmar remained rooted to his spot, unnerved by what was happening.

  “I see you above this gold,” she continued. “No other but you.”

  “And?” Ernald demanded, interested in spite of himself. “What else?”

  Her voice was dreamy, disconnected. “Now you’re falling. You’re drowning. You’ll die.”

  “Shut up with your rambling!” Ernald snapped. “Get back!”

  Angelet didn’t react to his command. Her gaze was locked on Ernald, who appeared truly shaken by her words. Then she swayed on her feet, and crumpled to the ground. Goswin yelped and bent down to check on her, leaning in to see if she was breathing.

  Rafe’s first instinct was to get to her as fast as possible, but there were too many other people in the way.

  “Damn, she’s having another fit,” Ernald said. “Of all the times to suffer a vision.”

  “What’s your order?” the massive guard named Ulmar asked.

  “Leave her. She’s not going anywhere for hours. I’ve seen it. Everyone, get these men!”

  Ulmar dutifully walked forward, though he clearly didn’t want to engage an armed, angry knight. And now Alric and Octavian had joined the fight, wreaking havoc.

  Before Rafe could do anything—whether fight or try to get to Angelet—Goswin rushed toward him at full speed.

  “Distract them!” he hissed. “She’s fine. She’s only playacting now!” Then he started to run in a circle around the group, drawing several pairs of eyes due to the way he was waving his hands and yelling.

  Rafe glanced at the still form of Angelet on the ground. She certainly didn’t seem to be pretending. But he had to trust that she was. He rushed Ulmar, keeping the gigantic guard’s attention on him.

  Fighting always made Rafe’s muscles tense and his whole body heat up as though a fever was coming on him. He always felt like he could hear everything, smell everything. No matter how many times he fought, each time felt like the first, the primal fear of death reaching out to him. But having faced that fear so many times, Rafe also knew how to get through it, using his heightened senses to focus within the inevitable chaos that all fights created.

  Ulmar swung his blade like a woodcutter swung an ax. Rafe could tell the other man relied on pure mass and intimidation to win his fights. However, Ulmar had probably never fought a trained knight before, and not one as well-trained as Rafe. The big man showed not a trace of the fear Rafe always felt, but he knew it was there.

  Despite his earlier hasty words, Rafe didn’t want to kill him, so he kept parrying, waiting for an opening to deliver a blow that would just incapacitate the man. But the situation grew dicier when another guard rushed up to attack Rafe from behind. He dodged the first blow, and ducked out of the way.

  Ulmar howled as his next swing hit not Rafe, but his other ally. Rafe took advantage of Ulmar’s second of surprise to hit him hard in the side of the head with the flat of his blade. Then he kicked at Ulmar’s knee, causing it to buckle. The giant slid down, clutching at his head, moaning.

  Rafe moved away, and saw that Alric and Octavian were both fighting just as he was. The two knights had started fighting as a pair, but got drawn away from each other, exposing their backs.

  Yet another fighter went for Alric, wielding his own sword with much more skill than Ulmar did. Rafe yelled out a warning.

  Alric turned just in time to avoid being struck. He shifted to avoid being trapped, and regrouped with Octavian.

  Rafe turned, intent on getting to Angelet. All of a sudden, a crossbow bolt rushed past him and buried itself in the ground a few feet beyond, not far from Angelet’s prone form.

  “Hell,” he muttered, tracing the path back to see where it had come from.

  The path led directly to Bethany, who stood yards away from the farmhouse, holding the weapon. She cursed at missing and set about reloading.

  “Bethany.” Suddenly, Rafe knew she’d been the one who was responsible for the previous attacks, that she regarded Angelet as more of a threat than any of the knights.

  “Bethany, get over here!” Ernald had avoided the fight, instead moving to one of the saddled horses in the paddock. “This is not the time for revenge.”

  “Everyone’s always fighting over her,” Bethany said. “Why? She’s a freak, and she should have run while she had the chance!” Now Bethany held the weapon at the ready, sighting the unprotected form of Angelet, ready to shoot once again.

  “Don’t you dare,” Ernald yelled, furious that Bethany wasn’t listening. “She still has a use.”

  “I will!” Bethany shouted back at her lover, her composure gone. “I won’t miss this time!”

  But she didn’t fire. There was a whistling sound, and Bethany dropped the crossbow, transfixed by the shaft of an arrow protruding from her neck.

  Everyone was silent for an endless moment, as Bethany collapsed, dead.

  “They have archers!” Ernald shouted. “Mount up! Ride!” He went for the nearest horse, got up and rode off, without waiting to see if any of his men were with him, and without any more thought for his slain lover.

  “He’s getting away!” Rafe yelled to his fellow knights.

  “Let him go.”

  Rafe looked down, where Angelet lay, her eyes now open and alert. “Let him go,” she repeated quietly. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t,” he said, helping her up.

  Once on her feet, Angelet embraced him, heedless of how it would look. He held her tightly for a moment, absurdly happy to know she was safe. Then he released her. “Enough of that,” he muttered. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Angelet sighed. “What happened was simple. Ernald followed us all this way, and then took Goswin in order to get me out of Cleobury.” She explained everything, concluding that she had been foolish to trust Ulmar. By then Octavian and Alric joined them, and Goswin also hovered near.

  “I should have known something was wrong,” Angelet said at last.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Rafe said. “You thought it was an emergency, and you couldn’t have known Cleobury’s guards all by sight.”

  “You were really worried I was hurt?” Goswin asked.

  “I was,” she said. “And you were hurt in the end!” She looked angry.

  At last Rafe noticed that the boy’s shirt was stained red on the back. “You were whipped?”

  “Once,” Goswin said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  The boy was obviously lying, wanting to appear strong in front of Angelet. Rafe gave him a nod. “If you say so.”

  “We should return to Cleobury,” Alric said, looking worriedly at the darkening sky.

  Octavian said he’d retrieve the horses, who had wandered away somewhat. But the moment he spoke, another rider appeared.

  Rafe squinted, since the rider was backlit by the setting sun. “Is that…”

  “Robin,” Octavian said, sounding unsurprised, and also unhappy. “Our hidden archer.”

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Alric asked.

  By that time, Robin reached them, holding her bow. “I followed you,” she said bluntly. “And a good thing too. Three against twelve? Plus a crossbow? Not good odds.”

  “A battle is no place for a lady,” Alric said.

  “I attended as an archer,” Robin said defensively, plucking at the leather bracer she still wore on her forearm. “And some thanks would be pleasant.”

  “Thank you for saving my life,” Angelet said. “But Sir Alric is correct, it’s time to go.”

  They rode back to Cleobury in the deepening twilight. The lack
of extra horses meant Angelet rode with Rafe, while Goswin rode behind Alric. As they rode, Octavian and Robin dropped back, immersed in a heated argument about Robin’s “whim,” as Octavian put it. The word seemed to infuriate the young woman, whose cheeks had gone beet red.

  “I will say that having that first arrow appear was convenient,” Rafe said quietly to Alric.

  “But she’s barely more than a girl,” Angelet said worriedly.

  “A girl who can shoot,” Alric said. “I know all too well. I met her at arrowpoint, an experience I don’t want to repeat.”

  Suddenly, Robin’s voice grew louder. “Because I was bored! And I wasn’t in danger at all. Not with three knights in earshot!”

  Octavian said, in a more measured tone, “It was irresponsible.” The rest of his argument was too low to hear.

  Rafe didn’t think the knight had much chance to influence Robin. “And Octavian’s argument will…do what?”

  “Chasten her, perhaps,” Alric said. “At least she listens to him sometimes. She never listens to me.”

  Angelet said, “I’m glad she followed. Ernald might have succeeded if she didn’t. He was going to force me to go to Basingwerke. Which sounds like a horrible place.” She told what Ernald shared about the abbey’s practices.

  Rafe’s arm was around her waist, holding her so she wouldn’t fall. Now he tightened his grip. “He’s probably telling the truth. Lord Otto acted strangely about it when he first hired us. We were told not to bring you back. He ordered me to ignore any pleas you might make. I was to see that you passed through the gate, and then leave when the gate locked behind you.”

  “And you agreed to that?” she asked, aghast.

  “I made no complaint,” he corrected. “I let Otto believe what he would—my reputation is that of a man out for himself. But I didn’t like his words, and I never let another decide my course. If I didn’t like what I saw, or if you’d asked…Otto’s orders meant nothing to me.”

  He laid a kiss on her head, enjoying the silky feel of her hair. By that point, the sky had changed to a purple-blue, the last shade of twilight. Rafe used the darkness to hold Angelet closer to him than he otherwise could. He almost didn’t want to see the gates again.

  Back at Cleobury, the party rode in to find an audience, despite the late hour. Many of the residents knew of the crisis and found reasons to be in the courtyard when they returned. At the sight of Angelet, many shouted in relief. She smiled happily. “I don’t ever remember being cheered upon my arrival anywhere.”

  Cecily made much of Goswin, and took him away to tend the wound across his back. Alric asked if Angelet felt up to talking briefly. “Rainald ought to be told what’s happened.”

  She nodded, but leaned against Rafe as they walked.

  “Are you well?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Well enough, if you are here to help me.”

  The warmth of the statement kept Rafe going during the discussion that followed. Angelet related all that Ernald told her, including the fact that he intended to go before the king after Easter.

  “He’ll do everything he can to advance his own cause and hurt any other. He hoped to have me behind walls, and also to recover the stolen gold. But he’ll settle for destroying reputations. He’ll destroy mine to ensure that I’ll never get to see Henry again. And he’ll destroy Rafe’s because Rafe thwarted his plans, more than once.”

  “Then we should go there too,” Rafe said.

  “Go there?” Angelet said. “Away would be a better choice!”

  “Ernald just threatened to blacken my name with the king. He might be able to do it, especially if he gives his story before I can tell mine. I’m not going to let that miserable excuse for a man ruin the name I just regained.”

  “Your name is important to you,” Angelet said softly.

  “Of course it is. It’s all I have. Without it, I’m nothing.”

  She smiled, but her face looked even paler than usual. “Then we should go. To Northampton. You can put your case to the king, and he’ll see the right of it.”

  Chapter 32

  Easter came in mid-April that year, leaving less than a fortnight for Rafe to gather any witnesses he could find to support his case, travel to Northampton, and prepare a defense before an audience with the king himself. He was not optimistic.

  Fortunately, however, he was no longer alone. Alric and Octavian both helped him. In addition, Luc was sent for. Luc’s family was close with the king, and Luc could advise Rafe on what to say—and not say.

  Luc did even more than that. He arranged for some of the group to stay with his own family in Northampton, and assured them that he’d help in any way he could. Rafe could hardly believe it.

  “Why are you doing this for me? After what I did?”

  “What are friends for?” Luc replied. Then he grinned. “Besides, it wasn’t me you impaled during a practice session.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am serious, Rafe. We practically grew up together, and I know the truth of what happened—Alric told me the whole story. So stop dwelling in the past. You’ve got a problem in the present, and that’s the only time we can affect our fates. So let’s get to work on mounting a defense against whatever accusations the Yarboroughs will make.”

  “They will accuse me of theft and kidnapping, and possibly murder. I should have taken care of Ernald back at that farm.” Rafe walked from one end of the room to the other and back again, full of energy he couldn’t get rid of.

  “You can’t solve this with a sword, Rafe,” said Alric. “How will you being executed for murder help Angelet?”

  “She’ll be safe once Ernald is dead.”

  Luc put a hand to his head. “Rafe. For God’s sake, stop pacing. We’ll find a way through this. And blood will not be involved.”

  “Otto must have already spoken to the king,” Rafe said worriedly. “He’ll have lawyers, local friends, and witnesses. I may as well give up now.”

  “You have the truth on your side,” Luc said. “That counts for something. Usually.”

  A group left Cleobury for the town of Northampton, arriving a few days before Easter. Both Robin and Goswin had to stay behind at Cleobury, and both complained bitterly about it. Yet they were children, and Cleobury was the safest place for them.

  Angelet rode most of the way in a carriage with Lady Cecily, which must have been more comfortable for both of them than a horse would have been. But it separated her from Rafe, which annoyed him. He liked to see Angelet as often as he could.

  When they arrived, the group went directly to the home of Luc’s family. The house they came to was impressive, but not cold. Indeed, the whole family—father, mother, and daughters—welcomed them as if they were all old friends. They fussed over Cecily’s expectant condition and chatted with Angelet as if she’d always been part of their circle. Rafe had always been somewhat in awe of Luc and his noble upbringing. He had access to the sort of life most people never even dreamed of. Yet Rafe was welcomed, and that was before his true parentage was even revealed.

  “Luc has told us something of what’s happening, Sir Rafe, but I’d like to hear more,” the Lord of Braecon said.

  So Rafe told the story as best he could. It was not the final retelling either. As it happened, wheels were already turning, and an agent of the king was conducting something like an investigation before the king held an audience with them all. He was interviewing all parties, trying to discover what really happened.

  The day after they arrived in town, Luc took Rafe to meet the man at an inn close to the center of town. “Be careful what you say,” Luc told him before they entered. “I’ve met Lord Drogo before. You don’t want to antagonize him.”

  “Sounds charming,” Rafe muttered.

  The man waiting for them was anything but charming. He was an ascetic-looking man somewhere near fifty. He had a thin face and deep-set eyes that seemed to miss nothing. His clothes were very fine in quality, but in dull, drab colors
. He’d fade away in most rooms filled with people. Rafe suspected he liked it that way.

  “Sir Rafe,” Luc said, “may I present Lord Drogo. He has been tasked with investigating this whole matter, as an impartial servant of the king.”

  Drogo invited them both to sit. “I’ve spoken to several other people involved in this matter. Lord Otto and his son Ernald have leveled very serious accusations. And their description of Sir Rafe was not flattering.”

  “My description of them won’t flatter, either,” Rafe said, before Luc put a warning hand on his arm.

  “Let’s stick to facts. Drogo, what do you need to know from Rafe?”

  “Everything. Let us begin with who you are.”

  That Rafe could now answer with pride. “My name is Sir Raphael Corviser. I have served the de Vere family, who swore allegiance to King Stephen very early in his reign.”

  “Corviser…”

  “My father was Sir Michael Corviser. He died in service of the old king.”

  “Yes, Corviser. Good king’s man,” Drogo muttered approvingly. “Sterling fighter, was Sir Michael. Never knew he married.”

  “It was only a few months before his death,” Rafe explained, skipping over the details. “To Lady Clare of Beaumont, who has also now passed away.”

  “What brought you to the manor of Dryton?”

  Rafe told him the whole story from beginning to end, leaving out only the parts that would compromise Angelet’s reputation.

  At the end of the tale, Drogo regarded him with those glittering eyes. “Much of the early part of your story rings true—up to the time of the initial attack on the cortège. I questioned another witness who confirmed it.”

  “Who?” Rafe asked, puzzled.

  Drogo gestured to Luc. “Go fetch him, please.”

  Luc grinned at Rafe, then left the back room. He returned moments later, along with none other than Simon Faber.

  “Sir Rafe!” Simon almost shouted. He surprised Rafe with an embrace that nearly cracked a rib. “It’s a miracle to see you again! I feared that you never got the lady to safety, and you both perished after the attack.”