by Nicole Locke
‘Ah, you mean why am I in Swaffham?’
Hugh gave a curt nod. ‘Not exactly your home town.’
‘I’ve got cousins here now. And, though it is yours, I never thought you’d return.’ Eldric took a sip and eyed the empty flagon. ‘How can you be still standing?’
‘I am my father’s son.’
Eldric scanned the room’s sparse furnishings. ‘You weren’t exaggerating about your past.’
‘And were you about yours?’
Eldric sighed, his expression resigned. ‘Come, this is a gloomy conversation.’
‘Without any answers being revealed. It’s late, and I’m tired.’
‘Well, then, I’ll get to the point. I am like you...as you most likely would have guessed by now...if not for the strength of that ale.’
To cover his surprise, Hugh turned to sit. There was only one other chair in the room—his father’s chair, but Hugh had broken that long ago though the remains stayed in the corner.
Hugh didn’t know if he was more surprised that jovial Eldric was a spy or that he had disclosed it. He had heard that Eldric was commissioned, but had thought it only a rumour.
‘Edward sent you here?’
‘No, I’m on a...detour.’
‘Personal?’ Hugh asked.
Eldric gave a small smile.
Hugh didn’t expect an answer, but sometimes the most obvious questions slipped into answers.
‘Are we friends?’ Eldric said.
‘Yes,’ Hugh replied, surprised that the answer came easily despite himself knowing better. Maybe there was still some of that sheltered and naive boy in him yet.
Eldric nodded, as if Hugh had answered some other question not asked. ‘Good to know.’
Hugh sensed that there was more to say, and he intended to wait. After all, he knew about keeping secrets. If he pried too deeply Eldric would do the same. With his silence, it appeared Eldric knew a score of secrets—as did Hugh. Could it be possible that Eldric was a friend in truth? There was only one way to find out.
Shifting in his seat, he said, ‘I would think Edward would know better than to employ you to carry and catch secrets. It’s not as if you can hide.’
Eldric let out a startled laugh. ‘You’d be surprised how easy it is to hide in plain sight. People don’t equate my handsome stature with intelligence.’
‘Your intelligence must be all you’re relying on!’
Eldric did laugh then. ‘I may not have bested you, but my sword arm is still longer than yours.’
Hugh drained his cup. ‘Longer, but not sharper.’
‘Sharp enough. And in these quarters you couldn’t escape even with that footwork you learned from...’ Eldric’s voice faded and he shook his head. ‘Sorry, I heard the news.’
The unsaid name hung between them. ‘Black Robert’ of Dent—Edward’s favoured knight and Hugh’s mentor.
Hugh had been just as surprised as Eldric when Robert, who had been older and already making a name for himself, had taken him under his wing to train him.
Hugh had readily accepted, even knowing that Robert trained hard, and he had been pushed to do the same. Through that time Hugh had tormented himself, wondering if Robert knew of his shame because of his father’s drunkenness and lost honour.
But Robert surely had to have done, because nothing was truly a secret at Court—which had made Robert’s sullying himself with Hugh’s family reputation all the more startling.
Of course Hugh had heard of Robert’s own rumoured history. How he might not be legitimately-born, which shouldn’t be possible given his knighthood. Still, the vague rumour had persisted and surrounded Robert, despite Edward’s affection for him and his alliance with a Welsh Marcher Lord.
Hugh hadn’t cared. He was grateful for any kinship with the formidable knight, and had continued to follow Robert’s prescribed training even when he left Court.
When he had seen his friend again Robert had been a changed man, but they’d stayed close.
‘I heard you were the last who saw him.’ Eldric shook his head. ‘Still can’t comprehend how the bastards got him.’
‘He went off alone,’ Hugh supplied. ‘And he was just a man.’
‘A legend.’
Even more so now in death.
A death that the English mourned, but that Hugh knew was a lie.
Secrets and more secrets.
Robert was still alive, and married into a Scottish family. And if he was found he would be formally executed.
Hugh, who held his secret, would most likely be murdered on some abandoned road, his body left to rot in a forgotten wood.
He had made a vow that day to Robert, on Scottish soil, that he would never tell the King or his fellow man that Robert still lived. A solemn vow. A traitorous one, as well.
Hugh didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was his friendship with Robert, and that he’d take to his grave...wherever that was to be.
However, that didn’t mean he wanted to die any time soon, and Eldric merely mentioning Robert was a threat.
‘What are you doing here, Eldric?’ he repeated.
Eldric kicked at the dirt on the floorboards. ‘Attending a dinner tonight. It’s St Martin’s Day.’
Holidays. Celebration. Hugh wasn’t in the mood for merriment.
Standing, he signalled to the door. ‘I shouldn’t keep you, then.’
‘I came to take you with me.’
Hugh bit back a telling curse. Wanting no company, he’d purposefully kept quiet about his arrival. He’d wanted one night to wallow in self-pity upon being forced to return here. One night to drink as if copious amounts of ale in this hovel didn’t hold bitterness.
But that was not why he wanted to curse. It was because Eldric had been invited to a traditional dinner and he could bring a guest.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Weeks.’
‘Weeks’ meant he had been here before the King had sent him. If Eldric was a spy, it didn’t have anything to do with him and Alice.
So perhaps it was true that he’d came on a detour. But no detour took that much time in a town the size of Swaffham.
‘Weeks’ meant something else. Friend or no, Eldric wasn’t on any mere detour. Even if it was futile, Edward had sent Hugh here on a mission to find the Half-Thistle Spy, and he didn’t like any interference. Eldric being here for weeks was definitely an interference.
Of course Eldric could have lied about his time spent here, and hadn’t, which should go in his favour. But there were too many coincidences that Hugh didn’t like.
He also didn’t like it that his flagon and his cup were empty.
‘The fare will be delicious at the mayor’s house,’ Eldric said.
The mayor’s house meant Alice. The one woman he shouldn’t see. Not in the state he was in. Not ever.
Knowing his going could only be a trap, Hugh answered, ‘Why not?’
Chapter Five
‘Finally you’ve arrived!’ Elizabeth exclaimed as Alice was ushered into the receiving hall.
‘Not soon enough,’ Alice said, allowing the servants to remove her heavy cloak, hat and gloves.
‘As usual, the November wind is battering this house,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I had a dreadful time getting the children to bed, but at least it’s not raining.’
‘It’s starting to.’
‘All the guests haven’t arrived yet!’
‘They’ll come.’ Alice blew on her hands. ‘How’s the goose?’
Elizabeth let out a rough exhalation. ‘You knew about that?’
It was Martinmas—St Martin’s Day—and the start of the Christmas season. A busy day for farmers, whose livestock had to be slaughtered and dried for
the coming months, a profitable one for beggars knocking on doors for alms, and a gluttonous day for feasting. Lots of food, and even more drink. And at her sister’s home Alice would gain invitations to others’ homes.
‘Esther hasn’t been able to talk of anything else for the last two days.’ Alice fluttered her hands in the air and widened her eyes. ‘“Elizabeth can’t find a St Martin’s Day goose! What will be done? Something has to be done!”’ She rubbed her hands to give them warmth. ‘This morning I had to order her to stay at home.’
‘Order Esther?’ Elizabeth strolled into the parlour. ‘Who ever heard of such a thing?’
‘So true!’ Laughing, Alice followed her sister. ‘Luckily for us both, Bertrice had heard from three other sources that a goose had been delivered to the mayor’s kitchens.’
‘Bertrice? How is her ankle?’
‘Mending, much to Esther’s relief.’
‘They always were good friends.’
‘Hence the reason why the gossip of no goose for St Martin’s Day caused a scandal!’
Elizabeth shook her head ruefully. ‘Oh, I know it’s been years since you’ve been to a formal function, dear sister, but it’s not that I have a choice.’
Alice stamped her feet, which tingled with the cold. ‘Out of the two of us, you made the wiser decision.’
Elizabeth smile widened. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’
Alice felt a pang in her heart at Elizabeth’s happiness. The role of mayor’s wife was ideal for her sister’s excellent social skills. It was made all the more perfect since she and John adored each other.
But Alice had her own bit of happiness to divulge. ‘Today, William needed no instruction with the abacus.’
Elizabeth clapped her hands. ‘Oh, I’m so happy for you.’
Another pang. This time of annoyance. ‘Not happy for me, for him.’
Elizabeth’s elated smile dimmed. ‘Yes, for him. It’s—’
‘No more, Elizabeth. This is better for him.’
It was an old argument. William was the only child of Bertrice’s friend, Sarah. When she and her husband had drowned, Bertrice took him in. Bertrice hadn’t always been able to corral William. As he got older, Alice would find him wandering the Great Hall or other official rooms. It hadn’t taken long for Alice to realise how bright and curious he was.
She’d always helped families with food, clothing, tools and sometimes with chickens or goats from her own stocks when her father wasn’t looking. But with William, she had given to in other ways by educating him on matters around the house.
Eventually the little tutorials had turned into lessons. And now, William came to the house twice weekly for his studies.
Alice was certain William would make one of the finest stewards in the country, if only someone would take him on.
‘Is it better for him?’ Elizabeth pursed her lips. ‘You know he has to be noble-born to run a household.’
Alice’s frustration burned, despite her certainty that her sister was wrong. ‘Perhaps I intend to put him in a more...accommodating home.’
‘Mary knew it!’ Elizabeth’s smile was triumphant. ‘She knew that if you couldn’t provide for him in Father’s home she’d end up with William in hers.’
Alice wasn’t surprised her sisters had talked about her. She also wasn’t surprised that they’d guessed her plans. Still, she didn’t know how they were feeling.
‘And did Mary protest?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘She didn’t...unprotest.’
Alice wanted to smile her own triumphant smile. It wasn’t an agreement, but it was a start. William had many more years before he’d be fully trained. In that time she could wear Mary down.
William would be perfect for Mary’s household, and she didn’t live that far away. Alice would keep him herself, but knew her father would never allow William to run his home. Her father wanted the best of everything. And that included having people in his employ with only the best connections.
Her father would take on the eighty-eighth cousin of the King even if he was a thief and couldn’t count with his fingers.
‘Has Father Bernard told William he intends to crown him Boy Bishop?’ Elizabeth asked.
Alice did smile then. William—quiet and analytical—would be the best Boy Bishop in all of Swaffham, if not in the whole region.
It was a great honour. Every year a boy was chosen to be a pretend Bishop from the sixth of December to the twenty-eighth. Under the guidance of Father Bernard, William would officiate all the Advent services apart from mass.
There was a part of Alice that thought William would make a great steward for the church but, as much as William was worthy, even she knew the church would never accept someone with no royal blood.
‘Not yet, but I have no doubts Father Bernard will tell him soon. There’s no one more suitable for it.’
‘He does have the most beautiful voice in the choir, which will help him secure the post,’ Elizabeth said.
‘And he has me to make sure it happens,’ Alice said.
Elizabeth made a tsking sound. ‘This is why you remain unmarried. All your projects and causes. At least this particular project—making a child, with no connections or blood, steward of a wealthy landholding household—will start and end with William.’
Alice rubbed her hands towards the fire.
‘Alice?’ Elizabeth said in a warning tone. ‘It will end with him? It’s fine that you help the families here in Swaffham with other things, but William must be the only one you educate.’
Alice arched her brow. If she could help William, she could help others. Her sister had her projects as well, and Mary’s household was larger than the entire Fenton family’s. Alice had this.
‘Why?’
‘You are my most frustrating, sister.’ Elizabeth glanced through the open doorway. ‘But we’re here to celebrate Martinmas. The Alistair and the Benson families are in the other room, and no doubt wondering what we’re arguing about.’
‘We’re not arguing.’
‘Chatting heavily, then.’
Alice smiled. ‘Certainly.’
Elizabeth clasped her hands loudly. ‘Don’t think we won’t chat heavily another day. But right now I need to ensure that Cook hasn’t packed her satchel and left the kitchens.’
‘Oh, yes! What a tragedy would occur if the precious goose can’t be shoved in the oven and the cook, in shame, runs away!’
Elizabeth shook her head in chagrin, and Alice knew she had her sister on her side.
However, even as Alice’s heart warmed, unease settled upon her. It was time for her to meet everyone. To laugh even if she didn’t feel like it. Even if she disdained the waste and chatter that didn’t help her projects. It was time to begin what King Edward had ordered her to do. It was easier arguing with her sister.
‘Who else is coming?’
‘The Alistairs and Bensons, along with Lyman and Mitchell. Also, a few from the town council and a couple of shopkeepers,’ Elizabeth said.
Trust her sister to be supporting her husband. ‘Ah, to address cleaning up the streets?’
Elizabeth smiled conspiratorially. ‘I intend to ply them with lots of wine until they agree.’
‘Lots of wine? That should make the Alistairs and Bensons happy.’
‘No doubt the Alistairs more than most.’
Family friends for years, the Alistairs and the Bensons were like uncles and aunts to the Fentons. It would be easy for Alice to procure an invitation into their homes for investigation. They might be practically family, but she couldn’t dismiss anyone from being responsible.
Apprehension made her dizzy. But with Elizabeth beaming nothing but goodwill, how could she not do what the King commanded? What wouldn’t she do for her family?
; ‘That seems like quite a party for St Martin’s Day,’ she said.
‘Oh, I might have invited one more... Just to help your cause.’
Alice bit her tongue. It was what needed to be done, but the mere thought escalated her apprehension.
‘Anyone I know?’
‘It’s a surprise. I have it on good accord that the gentleman who will be attending this evening is visiting family and hasn’t been in town for years.’
Hugh had not been in Swaffham for years.
Alice’s heart skipped. There was no reason Hugh should come to Swaffham. No reason at all, except she’d seen him in that garden and he had said he would talk to the King.
‘You’ve gone pale.’ Elizabeth’s mouth turned down. ‘Have you changed your mind?’
Alice tried to stop her spinning thoughts. It couldn’t be Hugh. For one, Elizabeth would never have requested Hugh’s presence, and two he couldn’t be visiting family since he had none here.
‘No, no. Merely...nervous, I suppose.’
Her sister’s frown eased. ‘It’s the gentlemen present who should be nervous. That gown is stunning on you.’
The gown she had chosen tonight was one of her favourites. A silvery grey bliant with a purple surcoat. Alice had also adorned herself with a silver belt and the daintiest silver and pearl necklace she owned. She knew what the colours did to her eyes. She’d need every bit of confidence she could get.
‘Go in. If not to show off that gown, you must be cold—and the fire in the other room is much larger.’ Elizabeth gave a small smile. ‘They don’t bite, Alice, despite your avoiding them all these years...and I’ll be with you soon enough.’
Plastering a smile on her face, Alice followed her sister out of the comfort of the private parlour and into the much larger public room. After some brief pleasantries and a nod to her guests, Elizabeth departed. A servant offered her a drink, and Alice took it gratefully.
She’d need the warmth and the wine’s strength—especially since Lyman and Mitchell turned immediately upon her entering. She knew them well enough. Both single, both with some means. Both of marriageable age, and just the kind of men who were her target.