A Knight's Duty (The Knights of Honor Trilogy, Book 2)

by Dana D'Angelo

  “And so you have told me many times.” He raked his hand through his golden hair. “’Tis not up to me to judge,” he said, his tone apologetic. “Nevertheless I believe that we should focus on finding proof of your father’s innocence before we speak about his arrest.”

  Amelie nodded slowly, his tone convincing her that his intentions were honorable. And for the first time, she felt that she could trust him to help her set things right.

  And as her stomach was now filled with a bit of food, she felt her spirits improving. Today just might be the day where she could finally find some answers.

  Chapter 20

  Amelie stopped abruptly and shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun. The village looked altogether different in the sunlight. She moved out of harm’s way as a workhorse pulling a careening cart ran down the main road. Of the people that were out, she recognized some of them from the wedding party.

  Derrik stopped in mid-stride and stared fixedly across the street. Following his gaze, she almost groaned out loud. It was the bald man from last night. And at the moment, he was engaged with speaking to his friend. In the day light, the slim man didn’t appear as menacing as in her recollection. A bandage covered his forehead, likely from an injury sustained from the previous night’s scuffle.

  “Let us go,” she said, tugging at Derrik’s arm. “The man has not seen us, therefore ‘tis best that you do not confront him.”

  But it was too late. The other man must have sensed the intense glare directed at him, for he turned his head. When his gaze settled on them, his eyes widened with instant recognition.

  Derrik become tense and the look on his face suggested that he intended to do the opposite of what she suggested.

  “Please,” Amelie groaned in exasperation. “Derrik, let him be.”

  To her immense relief, Derrik cast one dark glance at the older man before he allowed her to drag him to the stable that was located at the back of the inn.

  She resisted the urge to glance back at the man, knowing full well that he was keenly watching their departure.

  “At least you have some common sense,” she said, holding his arm tightly and steering him ahead. When they took a few more steps and he offered no further resistance, she dropped her hand from his arm. “I do not want to see you hurt.”

  Derrik snorted. He lifted his hands and laced his fingers behind his head. “You think that I cannot hold my own against that bastard?”

  She looked from his biceps straining through the tunic sleeves, to his broad shoulders, and then down his muscular length. He was built to fight, and she had no doubt that he could defend himself against anyone. But she wasn’t going to be the one to stroke his ego. “The man seems very cunning,” she said with speculation. “After what you did to him last night, I would not doubt that he has murderous intent toward you.” She quickened her steps, and said over her shoulder, “I have enough to worry about, and I do not want to have your death on my conscience.”

  There was a startled silence. But then a deep rumble sounded in his chest, and he burst out in laughter.

  Amelie paid no heed to him and walked ahead, but she paused when she saw an elderly man forking fresh hay into a horse stall. The stable master. She stopped and waited for Derrik to catch up to her. It was unlikely that the stable master would take her seriously, or adequately answer her questions without a man present. Once again, she was relieved that Derrik was with her.

  “Stable Master, we are searching for the stable boy,” Amelie said when Derrik stood at her side.

  But whether the man was ignoring her, or if he was hard of hearing, Amelie couldn’t tell. He continued to fork the hay from the small cart beside him, throwing the dried grass into the empty stall.

  “Stable Master,” Amelie called again.

  Finally, the man paused in his work. “What do you want?” he growled. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

  Taken aback by the antagonistic tone in his voice, Amelie stared at him. A servant addressing her like this would be severely punished at Stanbury Castle. She took in a calming breath. The disagreeable smell of horse dung forced her to remember that she wasn’t at the castle, and that this man didn’t know her true identity.

  With careful intonation, she tried again, “We are looking for the stable boy, but the inn keeper said you might have witnessed —”

  The man set the fork side down on the ground, leaning on it as his bushy eyebrows drew down with impatience. “People keep coming in here asking me questions. I have work to do, and have no time for this.”

  “I don’t like your tone, friend.” Derrik said, stepping forward.

  The older man frowned at him, his expression full of disdain. “What do I care what you like?” he snarled.

  “You will care —”

  “Derrik,” she said in a low voice, putting a hand on his sleeve, and giving her head a quick shake. She turned her attention back to the stable master. “Goodman, you said that other people have been questioning you?”

  “Aye,” he muttered irritably. “And I have answered enough questions. That damn inn keeper keeps sending people here to disturb me. How does he expect me to care for the horses? I’m not staying in this hell hole overnight to do it, that’s for certain. ‘Tis not like he pays me enough copper.”

  Amelie and Derrik exchanged looks.

  “Who else has come with inquiries?” Derrik asked.

  “Guards, knights, I don’t remember. I’ll tell you the same thing I told them — which is nothing. I know nothing. Now leave me be.”

  His crotchety tone was no deterrent for Amelie. Her heart began to race. There were other people who were curious about the clash at the inn. That meant that she was on the verge of discovering something important.

  “There was a nobleman who visited the inn several weeks ago,” she said eagerly, ignoring the stable master’s unfriendly glare. “The lord has now gone missing, and we are trying to locate him.”

  The man was churlish before but when he heard mention of the nobleman, his demeanor turned frosty. “I don’t want trouble brought upon my head.”

  “There won’t be any trouble if you would just tell us what you know.”

  The stable master hugged the fork to his thin chest and crossed his arms, his silence steadfast. He gave Amelie a speculative look. “You are connected with Lord Stanbury,” he declared, and nodded his head as if he was sure about this fact.

  “Connected?” Amelie repeated incredulously. “I — I do not have a connection —”

  “I may be old but I’m not an idiot, nor am I blind,” he said, turning his lips down and knitting his thick brows. “It seems to me that the lord has done something wrong. Maybe even something criminal.”

  Amelie opened her mouth to speak, but the stable master held up a hand and adamantly shook his head. “If Lord Stanbury has done something wicked,” he continued, “I don’t want to hear or know about it.” He spat on the dirt floor. “I will not be hanged for helping a criminal.”

  “My father is not a criminal!” she burst out before she caught herself.

  The stable master gazed at her for a long moment. But then he began to stick his fork into the cart. “Go see the stable boy. He saw what happened.”

  When it was clear that the stable master was done with them and wasn’t willing to reveal anything else, Derrik said, “Tell us where to find the boy.”

  “Out back,” the man grunted. He jerked his head behind him but he didn’t look up again. “He should be grooming the horse like I told him.”

  The stable master lifted the handles to the hay cart and pushed it over to the next booth. Methodically, he began to fork the desiccated grass into the stall.

  “He is deliberately not answering my questions,” Amelie said, glaring at the old man’s back.

  “These simple people have their own cares to worry about.”

  “Well,” Amelie pouted. “They should care as this involves our king and country.”

  “Tha
t is exactly why they don’t want to care.”

  They made their way to where the stable master had indicated. The stable boy was humming under his breath, absorbed in the task of brushing a horse’s coat to a high sheen. He was a skinny boy of about eleven years old. His face was long and narrow, and a mop of brown hair covered his eyes and ears.

  “Boy,” Amelie called out.

  Startled, the stable boy dropped the brush he held. The horse snorted and backed away slightly at the abrupt movement. The boy made a grab for the reins and patted the horse’s neck to reassure it before slowly turning around.

  “Your master said you can help us,” Amelie continued.

  He looked fearfully toward the stable entrance, his grip on the reins tightening. “What do ye want?” he asked nervously, brushing aside the hair from his forehead. He turned toward them and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of Derrik.

  Derrik gave a small shake to his head and Amelie almost missed the small gesture. She narrowed her eyes and looked from Derrik to the boy. There was something going on here, and she wasn’t privy to what it was.

  “I will handle this,” Derrik said in a low voice. Then not waiting for her answer, he raised his voice. “We’re told that you saw what happened to the nobleman,” he said, sending the boy an engaging smile.

  The boy didn’t need any preamble to know what Derrik referred. Almost immediately a guarded expression fell upon his face. He turned his large, wary eyes to the knight. “I told y —”

  “The stable master also mentioned that there were people here asking about the lord,” Derrik interjected. Looking at the boy, a puzzled expression appeared on his face. “This is the first I’ve heard of this. Is it true what your master said?”

  The boy blinked rapidly, furrowing his brows and looking desperately confused. “Aye, ye — um —a couple of people came by.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That there was a fight,” the boy said nervously. “The two guards, they — they wanted to know if I saw the lord again. Although I haven’t.” He twisted the leather reins around his small hands. “Mum says too many people are asking about the lord, and that I should keep my mouth shut, if I know what’s good for me.”

  The boy squirmed under Derrik’s unwavering gaze.

  “Then you saw something,” Amelie said, breaking the awkward silence. Derrik’s interview of the boy was going nowhere. She folded her arms across her chest.

  The boy untangled his hand from the reins and wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his tunic. “Aye.”

  Amelie lifted a delicate brow. “Well?” she asked, impatience starting to show in her voice. The frustration was getting to her, and she just wanted answers.

  “I — I can’t tell ye. Mum says I can be hanged for what I saw.”

  “Just being a witness won’t get you hanged, boy. However if it makes you feel better, I can speak personally to King Edward on your behalf,” Derrik offered. “Now wouldn’t that be something to tell your Mum?”

  The stable boy was looking doubtfully at Derrik when Amelie interpolated, “Sir Derrik is a king’s representative. Reveal what you know, or he will tell King Edward that you refuse to help us. In either case, you will get —”

  “Rewarded,” Derrik interrupted. He gave Amelie a warning look, but she looked away from him, pursing her lips. In her opinion, the boy just needed something to scare him revealing what he knew. But Derrik seemed to think otherwise.

  “If you tell us what you witnessed, and if it helps us,” Derrik continued pleasantly, “I’ll escort you to the Royal Palace for a visit.”

  “How do I know that ye aren’t lying to me?”

  “You don’t. All you have is my word. And as a knight, you can be assured that my word is true.”

  The boy looked at Derrik from his head to his boots. The knight didn’t have the wiry physique of a common serf, nor did he speak like one. The boy’s eyes wavered uncertainly, obviously fighting with himself, and trying to decide whether to believe Derrik, or to listen to the dire warnings of his mother.

  “What shall it be?”

  The glory of leaving Wykeham and seeing the king won out. “Would ye truly take me to see King Edward?” the boy asked.

  “It all depends on what you tell us.”

  The boy nodded slowly. He looked around him before he spoke. “The lord — ‘twas Lord Stanbury,” he said, his tone hushed. Then he allowed astonishment to show on his young face as he recalled the incident. “There were two guards and one lord — I never seen him before in my life — lying in wait for Lord Stanbury, sire. I was busy exercising the horses, and wasn’t aware of what happened until I heard shouts and screams. I hid behind the ale barrels over there, and saw Lord Stanbury lying face down on the ground.” He took a shuddering breath. “One of the guards accused the lord of high treason, but I wasn’t close enough to hear everything. They beat up Lord Stanbury, slashed him in the chest, they did. Somehow the lord managed to escape from their clutches. He ran into the woods yonder, and left behind his horse.”

  Amelie’s gaze followed the direction that the boy pointed. The stretch of trees continued as far as the eye could see. Her instincts were right all along; her father was in deep, deep trouble…

  Chapter 21

  Amelie left Derrik speaking with the stable boy and wandered beyond the gate. The boy’s recount was almost exactly what the inn keeper had told them. There wasn’t anything new to learn. All she knew was that her father was hurt, and that he was somewhere in the woods, wounded and possibly dying. Her heart constricted painfully at the thought.

  She walked along the side of the inn, trying to recall the image of the Lord High Steward, Duke of Hangrov. There was no question that somehow Roldan de Calmette was involved in this mess. Her uncle was the only person who resembled the inn keeper’s description. She could easily tell the two brothers apart, but others mistook them for each other. This was one of the reasons why her father shied away from the royal courts. But what was Roldan doing here at Wykeham, miles away from the Royal Palace? And what business did Lord Stanbury have with his brother that they couldn’t meet at the castle?

  It just didn’t make any sense. Her uncle was one of the most powerful men in England. He regularly counseled the king on matters of the state, and if the king was away, he had the capacity to act as the temporary viceroy of England. He was also a duke to a robust region in the east. From what she heard, Roldan was a competent and loyal servant to the king. No one would cross anyone with that kind of ranking and influence. If they did, they would likely get killed for their daring.

  Was it possible that her uncle was the true conspirator and not her father? She didn’t want to point an accusatory finger at Roldan, and anger such a powerful official. But there were witnesses who saw him here, witnesses that were afraid to speak and who knew the truth. She mentally ticked off the people in her mind: the inn keeper, his wife, the stable master, and the stable boy. They recognized Lord Stanbury upon sight, since he was their liege lord, but they would not be that familiar with the Lord High Steward. Or if they were, they weren’t willing to reveal that information.

  Once again, Amelie wished she had a chance to speak to the people in the tavern last night. Other people must have seen the altercation as well. And they might possibly shed light on some other aspects that the other witnesses had missed.

  She made it to the front of the Fox Trail Inn. From where she stood, she had a full view of the village square. Since today wasn’t Market Day, the square was virtually empty except for a handful of children playing ball and a straggly hound sniffing the vicinity for scraps. The main road was muddy from last night’s rain fall, and the air was slightly cool, but no one seemed to care. The village consisted mostly of farmers, and they were already in the fields, working the land. Not surprising, there wasn’t anything to see, so she retraced her steps to the back of the inn.

  Her father would have been ambushed on his way to the stables; the stable bo
y didn’t know where the attackers had hidden. Walking to the spot that the boy had indicated, she crouched down and picked up a small rock. If she could recreate the scene in her mind, and perhaps get into her father’s mindset, maybe then she would discover something. Turning her head, she saw two empty ale barrels along the outer wall of the inn. Right beside those were three large bushels of hay. There was plenty of room for someone to hide between the neatly tied bushels, and then jump out at an unsuspecting victim.

  She also noted the low-lying wooden fence that rose to waist height and which surrounded the small stable area. It was possible that the attackers hid there as well.

  The stable boy had said that her father was slashed in the chest. Then after he was injured, he ran into the woods behind the inn. She slowly scanned the area, taking in the thicket that was about ten feet away. Despite his wound, Lord Stanbury would have run to the trees and somehow escaped from his attackers.

  Getting up, she tossed the pebble aside.

  There were just too many places to hide, and even if a person was on his guard, he was an easy target. She wondered what Derrik thought about all this. He seemed watchful and listened to everyone’s recount quite intently. She had to remember to ask him if he agreed with her theory.

  Her eyes scanned the wooded area once again. But what happened to her father after he escaped into the forest? Did wild animals smell the scent of his blood and go after him? Or was he able to find refuge in a hallowed out tree or some other place of shelter? She frowned. Amelie wasn’t satisfied with any of the scenarios that her mind painted. The first one, she didn’t want to think about. But the second one was equally as grim. If Lord Stanbury hid in a shelter, he would be alone and his wound was likely festering.

  Sighing almost in defeat, she reached up and squeezed the base of her neck to ease away the tension. Questions. So many questions and there were no satisfying answers. The eyewitness evidence indicated that Lord Stanbury met Roldan in order to persuade him to betray the king. If this was correct, then Roldan was right to implicate her father for the highest crime against the kingdom.