by Julia Latham
“I look forward to speaking with him.”
“Sir Robert!” Francis came skidding through the rushes.
Robert grinned down at the boy. “What may I do for you, my lord?”
“I am learning how a gentleman plays chess. Do you know how?”
“Aye, I do. ’Tis one of my favorite pastimes.”
Another one, she thought with a sigh.
Francis gripped his hand and pulled. “Come teach me!”
In their lodgings later that night, Walter and Robert sat down facing each other in the outer chamber. Walter folded his hands and waited silently.
Robert knew what he wanted to hear. “My decision to inform Mistress Sarah about our investigation will work well. Tomorrow she is giving me a tour of the castle, and I shall focus on the viscount’s chambers, to see how she was able to poison him over weeks.”
“’Tis unlikely she will somehow betray herself out of nervousness. She is a clever woman.”
Robert nodded. “Yet with her at my side, I can judge her reactions as I interview the servants, residents and villagers. I’ll be able to see everyone’s reaction to her.”
“Why do you care?”
“’Twill tell me much about her as a person, to better understand her motivations.”
“We know her motivation.”
“Rage at the viscount’s decision not to marry her? We don’t even know if they discussed marriage. I need to know more about her before fulfilling the League’s mission.”
“You mean before taking her life in punishment for murdering a nobleman.”
He stiffened. “I am in command. We shall do things my way.”
Walter nodded. “You made another decision today to inform the Drayton upper staff about our investigation.”
“I anticipated that the entire household would then hear of it.”
“Good of you to realize that,” Walter said dryly.
“I would rather work in the open and hope for unforeseen assistance. Perhaps someone saw something, and they will come forward now that they know about the investigation.”
“My thanks for the explanation, even though you did not need to do so.”
Robert cocked his head in surprise. “But we are partners, Walter. I expect you to share with me as well.”
“Then I will tell you that I discovered arsenic stored near the kitchens, for use against rats.”
“Or viscounts,” Robert said, sighing. “I cannot be surprised at finding it, of course.” He looked down at his folded hands. “You know, I still remember the first day I met Drayton.”
Walter remained silent.
“I had but twelve years, and he was a new member of the Council of Elders. Though they were meeting in urgency for a reason I was not permitted to know, he deliberately came to meet my brothers and me.”
“You were a curiosity among the Bladesmen.”
“Aye, I knew it. My elder brother was proud to be so, to be a new generation. My younger brother was angry to feel on display, but I did not truly care one way or the other. I look back now and see that I did not show the proper respect when I met Drayton, a councilor. I was too impetuous with my remarks, I was told, but Drayton said I made him laugh. He said that a boy who could find laughter though being locked away from the world would mature into a man at ease with himself.”
“Quite the compliment.”
“He was a good man, and he did not deserve to die like this.” He leveled his gaze on Walter. “The arsenic was easily accessed?”
The knight nodded. “By adults. ’Tis well above the floor, put away in a cupboard.”
“’Twas not used in anyone else’s meal that we know of, so he surely did not eat it in the great hall, partaking from the same platters as others.”
“Nay, I am told he enjoyed an occasional meal in his solar while he was working.”
“So someone brought him a separate plate.”
“I will look into that.”
“On my tour with Sarah on the morrow, I will see the path from the kitchens to the viscount’s chambers.”
“The food could have been poisoned after it reached his solar.”
“You mean by someone already with him. Aye, we will not discount that. I will question her about the viscount’s private meals. Also, we should be hearing from Sir Anthony Ramsey soon, the boy’s guardian. Sarah wrote to him today.”
“You assumed she would, and she reacted as predicted. Very interesting tactic on her part.”
Robert nodded. “She could be using Ramsey to deflect our attention.”
“I would have thought, to protect herself and her position, she would wish to keep the master of the hall away as long as possible. But women like Sarah are good at manipulation, and she’s taking her own steps in this investigation, rather than just reacting.”
Before meeting her, Robert had assumed it would be easy to think of her as a murderer, a woman who deserved no mercy.
But she wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. She had a true gift in the way she treated Francis. He’d met murderers before, but always they revealed themselves, even in small ways. He’d been trained to look for such signs. Sarah was skilled at projecting innocence.
Walter’s reminder of Sarah’s fate should she prove guilty was an uneasy burden on Robert’s shoulders, the duty of the Bladesman in command. His dilemma followed him into his dreams that night, where he took Sarah deep into the forest and put a knife to her throat, and watched those expressive brown eyes widen in fright just before she screamed.
He came awake, rising up on his elbows, breathing unevenly. Embers in the hearth gave off a reddish glow in the dark bedchamber. He reminded himself of his duty, of his precarious future as a Bladesman. Then he sank back into the bedclothes and stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling. Sleep did not come again.
Chapter 8
In the morning, Sarah went to the kitchens to consult with Cook about the day’s meals. The man was tall and terribly thin, as if he didn’t even try his own concoctions. He always wore a scattered expression, his mind racing to the next meal while still preparing the current one.
When Sarah tried to discuss dinner, he finally came to a halt near the large block table and stared down at her, flinging his arms wide.
“I have everything in hand, Mistress Sarah,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Can we not speak later?”
“Nay, I will be away much of this morn,” she said patiently.
He frowned. “And where are you going?”
“Into the village.” She tried for nonchalance. It was no one’s business who she—
“With who?” asked Jane, one of the scullery maids, pausing as she carried a bucket of water.
It wasn’t a secret, Sarah told herself. “Sir Simon Chapman.”
Cook’s eyes widened. “Whatever for?”
Sarah wanted to bristle, but she kept her voice mild. “Because he asked me to accompany him. He is new to the area.”
“Oh, I see,” Jane said, nodding as if her world had settled back into place. “Aye, ye know the place well, Mistress Sarah.”
I know the place well? Sarah thought with disbelief. “I do not take your meaning.”
Cook stirred a giant cauldron that was hung over the massive fire in the hearth. Wiping his damp forehead, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Sir Simon is so new here that he does not understand your place at the young viscount’s side. We thought he might be thinking of you as…”
He trailed off when he saw her staring at him coolly, hands on her hips. “Please finish your meaning,” she said, wearing a perfunctory smile.
Jane and Cook exchanged a glance.
Jane said, “’Tis simply that we all know how dedicated you are to his lordship, that a plain man could not…”
No one seemed to want to state it aloud. The other servants worked busily, their backs to her. Cook stared longingly at the vegetables being chopped at the table as if he wished he were doing anything else.
Sar
ah wasn’t supposed to be interested in romance? Did they think she didn’t want the same thing as other women, to be admired and respected—to feel like a woman instead of simply a nurse?
“Aye, I’m dedicated to Lord Drayton,” she said at last, her tone cheerful. “But ’tis good after such trying times to have a moment away from it all.”
“Oh, aye, these times be terrible,” Jane said, nodding her head so quickly it was a wonder that her teeth didn’t chatter. “What with Sir Robert and Sir Walter snoopin’ about.”
“They are doing the king’s bidding, and you cannot blame them. After all, they would not be here if someone had not murdered a good man.”
The kitchen became still as a tomb, and several people crossed themselves. Sarah regretted her harsh words, but she could not take them back. She nodded to Cook and swept from the kitchen, feeling unsettled and angry and exasperated all at the same time.
Sir Simon was waiting for her in the great hall, and when she saw him, to her relief she found it easy to smile. She would enjoy this outing. Life had to go on, even during a murder investigation.
Robert noticed that Simon Chapman did not make an appearance at the tiltyard. He would have thought little of it, until near the end of the session he saw the seamstress Margery walking with Francis toward the group of boys in training with the captain of the guard. He’d anticipated seeing Sarah this morn.
Where was she?
He was so distracted by that question that he almost let himself be knocked from Dragon’s back as he jousted at the quintain. When he didn’t hit it correctly, it spun about and knocked him across the shoulders. He held his seat, even as he straightened and pulled up on the reigns. Dragon danced briefly before settling down and allowing Robert to walk him away from the lists. He expected some good-natured jeering about his clumsiness, but the revelation of his identity was still too new. Knights and soldiers watched him with hesitation, as if they didn’t dare upset him now. The openness of his mission had some good points, but also some drawbacks, as he was beginning to discover.
He could not blame the good people of Drayton Hall. He was the symbol of a murderer in their midst, a murderer who was one of their own. Without a person to accuse, they only had Robert at whom to direct their worry and fear.
At least he had Walter, who was obviously above the need to smirk at his poor performance at the quintain. But the Bladesman did wear a faint smile as he watched Robert ride by. Robert nodded with dignity and didn’t stop to speak. He meant to take his time with Dragon before he went to look for Sarah and request his tour.
But then he saw her. She was just emerging through the gatehouse, arm in arm with Simon Chapman. Robert froze, barely feeling the horse beneath him react.
Though it was a cloudy day, her bright red hair seemed to light up the dreary courtyard like the sun. She smiled up at the knight, still talking and gesturing as if in the middle of a long conversation. Chapman bent his head toward her. Robert felt a dark, angry emotion churn his gut, and he couldn’t even identify it, so foreign did it seem.
His gaze followed them across the courtyard until they disappeared through the gate to the lady’s garden. It was a small plot of land next to the keep, surrounded by a half wall, where the lady of the household could escape into her own private garden.
Sarah and Chapman needed privacy?
Robert had never felt like this before. He barely noticed which groom took Dragon’s reigns from him. But the training that had been ingrained in him since childhood took over, and he pretended as if he were headed to the keep. After a last look around to see if he was noticed, he slipped into the lady’s garden. The small trees and ferns hid him well, and although he felt ridiculous, it did not stop him from following the sound of their voices.
He’d been with many women, saw them with other men, and had never felt this overwhelming urge to tear a woman away from a man and challenge him.
Slowly, he moved through the garden until he saw the flash of Sarah’s blue gown among the trees. And then she laughed, and the merry sound made him think of forest glades with water tumbling over rocks and birds singing.
Birds singing? he thought in disgust.
Sarah was a murderer, and his desire of her jeopardized not only his mission, but also his place within the League. He might need to harness these feelings, to use them to sway her to his side, but he could not allow them to touch the center of him.
He glimpsed her profile as she followed the gravel path meandering through the garden. Chapman was still touching her, their bodies brushing as they moved. She looked…happy.
Robert stepped out onto the path and walked with purpose until he took a turn and surprised the couple. They came up short, Sarah’s eyes wide, Chapman’s full of confusion and then understanding.
Before the knight could speak, Robert nodded his head. “Forgive me, Mistress Sarah, but I believe we had an engagement this morn to tour the castle?”
“I had not forgotten,” she said smoothly. “When I saw you at the tiltyard, I thought you still had to return to your lodgings to change your garments.”
He smiled. “I am ready now.” He glanced at Chapman. “I did not overly exert myself. I guess I need a more challenging sparring partner.”
The man smiled back with confidence. “I would be happy to oblige, Sir Robert.”
Sarah frowned, feeling the tension but not understanding its source. Both Robert and Simon were smiling, but their smiles did not reach their eyes. Here in this peaceful garden, where she’d always found comfort, two men were squaring off in a silent challenge.
Over her? Preposterous.
Surely there was something else going on, some problem at the tiltyard that only men cared about.
She turned to smile at Simon, and it took a moment before he took his eyes off Robert, she noticed. “You have my thanks for a lovely walk this morn, Simon.”
He took her hand and bowed over it, a bit more elaborately than necessary, she thought.
“’Twas my pleasure, Sarah.”
He spoke her name, and not her title, with more emphasis than was necessary. Men. They could be such crowing roosters.
Simon nodded at Robert as he departed. Robert watched him go, a bemused smile on his lips, before focusing once again on Sarah. That smile intensified, as if he’d won some sort of challenge. He waited.
If he expected her to discuss her morning with Simon, he would be waiting a long time.
“What part of Drayton Hall do you wish to explore first?” she asked.
His blue eyes narrowed, and she didn’t understand what she saw there. She hovered in that silent, tense moment, feeling the pull of his forceful personality, wondering what he truly wanted from her.
And then he gave that charming smile he bestowed on all the women. She found herself strangely disappointed.
“I’d like to see everything, Sarah.”
Unlike his smile, his tone of voice made her feel like she was the only one he wanted to speak to. She disregarded that immediately, knowing it was all part of his ability to charm. Had he been born with it, or honed it in witty repartee at the king’s court?
“’Tis a large castle,” she said dubiously. “But very well, we shall begin with the outbuildings here in the courtyard.”
She went to move past him, but he didn’t immediately follow.
“Can we not begin with this garden?” he asked.
She frowned at him. “’Twas simply the viscountess’s peaceful retreat.”
She watched him walk among the trees, down the path away from her, and she reluctantly followed. He passed a cozy bench tucked away amidst shrubbery, then smiled at the fountain in the center, where water bubbled from a stone boy’s tipped bowl.
“’Tis such an interesting idea,” he said. “The lady of the household can almost feel as if she’s in a woodland glade, rather than in a fortress.”
“Your mother did not have such a thing?” And then she remembered that he’d mentioned his mother’s e
arly death. She touched his arm. “Forgive me. Perhaps you do not wish to think of sad memories.”
“That happened too long ago to be truly sad,” he said ruefully. “The memory of my mother is only one of softness and a warm voice. I do not remember if she had a lady’s garden.” He frowned.
Had he not been in the same home after her death? she wondered, curious. “In London, perhaps there is not room for such things.”
“Nay, a garden is even more necessary in the crowded city. But I did not grow up in my parents’ home.”
What did that mean? As if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to, he turned away and began to walk briskly down a path toward the courtyard. She had to hurry to keep up, and reached his side as he went through the gate in the half wall. He swept his arm to encompass the bustling courtyard, and she obligingly took him to all the outbuildings, from the soldiers’ barracks, to the carpenter shop, to the smithy, where the blacksmith and the armorer were consulting over the making of a plain chest plate. All stopped to answer Robert’s questions about their work. She noticed that he was able to make people relax around him, even though they might fear the results of his investigation. At the dairy, he charmed the maids into offering him slices of fresh cheese or a dipper of milk, and at the bakehouse, he received a hot loaf of bread, which he offered to share with Sarah.
And always he brought her into each conversation, as he questioned people with interest about their duties. Most enjoyed speaking about themselves, and he seemed to take advantage of that.
She found herself more interested than she’d imagined she would be. He asked nothing about the viscount or his ugly death; he only got to know people. He put them at ease with his charm and handsome looks and polite interest.
Within the keep itself, he asked to begin his tour on the ground floor, in the undercrofts with their columns and vaulted ceilings, which held up the castle. The food storage was there, all of which passed through the kitchens first, she told him. He was serious about this in particular, and then she remembered his accusation of poison. She shivered. Arsenic worked best hidden within food and drink.