The Promise

by D.D. Chant

Rafe stopped and looked out into the gathering darkness. It was still raining but not as hard as it had been, the water fell from the skies in a swirling mist about them. He had seen the rock mass from the tree he had climbed an hour or so ago and had decided that it was best that they head towards the possible shelter it afforded.

  Now he could see that it was little more than a curve in the rock with an overhang about four feet from the ground. Rafe was grateful for it. He dismounted, making his way to Charger and the two weary figures that swayed unsteadily on his back.

  “Lady Adele?”

  She looked down, her tired eyes surrounded by a dark smudge of fatigue.

  “We shall camp here tonight.” His voice was gentle, but as he looked back at the semi cave he felt his heart begin to sink. This was all very well for him; it was dry enough and he had slept in worse places and in worse conditions before. However, Adele should not have been subjected to such discomfort; it was not what she or Eda were used to.

  “Great goodness!” Adele’s voice sounded weary but surprised. “How clever of you to have found us somewhere dry to spend the night!” Her drowsy eyes looked into his and in their depths he could see genuine admiration. Rafe was surprised by a wish to hold her close in an appreciative bear hug. It was an impulse that shook him to the very centre of his being.

  “Finn? Is something amiss?”

  Rafe forced a shake of his head.

  “You should get out of the rain.”

  He helped her to dismount and she moved into the shelter under the out crop of rock, Eda close behind her.

  “Clever?” whispered Eda, her voice incredulous. “Because you have always longed to sleep in a cave, have you not?”

  “Eda, be silent,” whispered back Adele. “Can you not see that he is doing his best for us?”

  “This is his best?”

  “Enough!” For the first time Eda saw fiery sparks of anger spill from Adele’s eyes. “Did it not occur to you that he is just as tired as we are? That he is as cold and as hungry, but whereas we have him to look after us and see we are comfortable, he has no one? So please, Eda, please… no more tonight.”

  Rafe dragged together some wood for the fire, it was very wet but he had found a few dry twigs beneath the shelter that would start the flames off. There would be no room for the wood beneath the out crop, indeed once Rafe had settled himself next to Adele and Eda there was little room for anything bar the fire before them that would be shielded from the rain by the jutting rock.

  Rafe dried his hands as best he could, and set about coaxing a flame to the dry twigs. With great patience he fed the blaze with the damp wood. It spluttered and spat, sending clouds of dark smoke spiralling upward to hit the rock above and escape into the cold air. Rafe sat back from the task, reclining against the rock next to Adele.

  “Are you both alright?”

  “Fine,” assured Eda, looking away.

  Adele nodded but Rafe could see her trembling with cold. He leaned across, taking her hand that was furthest from him in his own. Her fingers were icy and still damp.

  “You shall soon warm up again,” he told her with a reassuring smile as he rubbed her hand between his own, trying to generate the heat of friction. “Although I realise that at this point ‘tis hard to believe, or remember what being warm felt like.”

  Adele laughed nervously, not looking up as Rafe took her other hand and held both between his.

  “Are you feeling any warmer?”

  “A little.”

  Still Adele did not look up, and Rafe could see even though her head was bent that she blushed.

  They were sitting rather close, Rafe reflected. She was sandwiched between him and Eda snugly, but the shelter was small and it could not be helped. He looked out into the rain, wondering if any of them would sleep tonight. Eda probably would, he thought with a smile, she seemed capable of sleeping anywhere.

  Adele could feel her cheeks glowing hot and was vexed with herself, the situation could not be helped so it was ridiculous to be made uncomfortable by it. Still, it was a very strange experience. She could feel the gentle and accidental pressure of Rafe against her, a circumstance that she could not but be acutely conscious of. He had managed somehow to bring warmth to her fingers, a luxury that she had not experienced since leaving the fort, and he was trying so very hard to put her at ease.

  “Mistress Ardith said you knew no one beyond the gates of the fort, Lady Adele.” As he spoke she could feel his breath stirring her hair. “So I do not precisely understand how you know this ‘Randolph’.”

  “Randwulf,” corrected Adele absently, trying to still the chattering of her teeth.

  She did not wish to talk of this, especially not now when she had spoken sharply to Eda. To remind her friend of Randwulf when she was already feeling low would be cruel. “He used to climb over the fort wall.”

  Rafe felt a little easier at this circumstance.

  “So he was one of the boys from the village then?” It was not really a question but a statement.

  “He was not from the village, but from one of the big houses,” Eda answered, her voice subdued.

  “He told you so?”

  “No, there was no need; he had a page that followed him wherever he went.”

  “And you met the page too, I suppose?”

  “Well, yes,” answered Adele guiltily. “I know we ought not but there was little we could do to stop them climbing over the wall if they so chose, was there?”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Well… we played with them.”

  Rafe was silent and irritably so. No doubt they had played with the very toys that he himself had provided! For some reason this last seemed monstrously unfair. Suddenly the significance of her remark dawned upon him.

  “Played?” he questioned. “How long ago did you meet him?”

  Adele’s brow creased in thought.

  “I was… seven? Yes, that would be about right,” she mused aloud.

  “And when did you see him last?”

  “A month ago,” she answered. “But he was due to visit us again a few days from now.”

  “You mean he came quite often to visit you, and without Mistress Ardith’s knowledge?” asked Rafe keeping his tone carefully natural.

  Adele shot an anxious glance at Eda.

  “Yes, often. It was nice to have his visits to look forward to.” Adele smiled faintly, relaxing a little as she gazed dreamily into the fire. “He taught me to use the bow and the sword, and how to use a person’s strength against them in a struggle.” Adele turned eyes that sparkled with excitement toward him. “More than that he was always there for me, for us, as someone to talk to and confide in.” She caught herself, suddenly looking guilty.

  Rafe nodded, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that welled up within him.

  “It must have been hard to come to terms with your betrothal to Lord Rafe.” The words almost choked him to say, but still he forced them out. “Anyone must see that the situation is difficult.”

  For a moment Adele was completely still, and then she turned from her contemplation of the fire and fixed her steady eyes on his.

  “Is that how Lord Rafe feels?” she asked quietly. “That our betrothal is… difficult?”

  Rafe had no answer to her question, and after a moments silence Adele shrugged a shoulder and, to Rafe’s great relief, turned her gaze away from him.

  “Of course for Lord Rafe it must have been wearisome, he is some years older than I. It must have been trying to have been bound to someone so young, to have had to wait. I dare say if it had not been for our betrothal he might have been married long ago and would even now have children.”

  Rafe was horrified by this suggestion. The way she talked one might suppose he was a veritable grey beard who could hardly be expected to last much longer!

  “I never thought before,” continued Adele carefully, “but Lord Rafe may have wished to marry elsewhere, and could not beca
use of me.”

  There was silence after her statement, Rafe felt his tongue thick and unwieldy in his mouth.

  “Maybe Lord Rafe saw your existence as a blessing,” he countered at last. “Perhaps the fact that he was already betrothed to you gave him a feeling of freedom, for he could hardly have been expected to form an alliance with another when promised to you.”

  Adele blinked slowly two or three times, her gaze never wavering from his face.

  “Maybe… but did he?” she asked, and then held her hand up before her. “No. Do not answer that question; I should never have asked it. Your pardon, Finn, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable… I fear I am very tiresome tonight.”

  Rafe struggled within himself. He had never wished to marry another, and he had been pleased to use her as a shield against the political alliances formed by marriage. He wished very much that he could tell her that, but knew he could not. Such an admission would give Adele a belief that he had been content, even pleased, with their betrothal, and the truth was that he had never been pleased with it.

  He could not explain to her his feelings on the matter, and it would have been dishonest of him to gain her good opinion by telling her only half of the story, that half that chanced to portray the situation in a good light.

  “Randwulf always says never to ask a question if you are not sure that you can accept the answer.” Adele’s smile was a little forced. “I find that maxim has always kept me from disappointment.”

  Rafe kicked at a smouldering ember.

  “It does seem to be a course of wisdom.”

  “Yes,” answered Adele. “Randwulf is wise I think.”

  Rafe vouchsafed no answer, but Adele heard Eda take a shuddering breath and cursed herself for her insensitivity. How could she have allowed herself to be drawn into a conversation on Randwulf when she knew the effect it would have on her friend?

  Yet it was a topic that seemed to be of great interest to Finan, and she did not precisely see how she could turn his mind from the subject. For a moment she groped around in her thoughts for a way to turn his attention elsewhere.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters, Finn?”

  Rafe groaned within himself. How was he to answer? He had two sisters, yet Finan had none, only brothers, so which truth did he tell her?

  “Sisters, two of them.” There was no point in trying to convince himself that if he told her anything else he wouldn’t really be lying.

  “What are their names?”

  “Esme and Aisly.”

  “Are they older or younger than you?”

  Rafe sighed; this was obviously a topic she was determined to pursue.

  “Younger; Esme is twenty and Aisly is your age, both are unmarried,” Rafe paused. “Although Esme was once betrothed and Aisly... almost.”

  He averted his face, pained by the recollection and wishing that the memories would recede.

  “Really, to whom?”

  Rafe was very still, and when he spoke the words were forced from between bloodless lips.

  “Rand… son to Lord Targhe.”

  Adele’s eyes were generally wide, but at this confidence they almost doubled in size. Even Eda, who seemed to have entered a catatonic state on the other side of the cave, lurched upright.

  “Was it… before?” asked Adele quietly.

  “Yes, it was before the attack on Calis,” answered Rafe. “’Tis why my father did not seek to marry them elsewhere. He had engaged in extended negotiations over the marriage contract, yet he never once suspected what Lord Targhe was capable of.”

  “I see.”

  Rafe was lost in thought again, a heavy frown creasing his brow that lent a bitter cast to his face. How many had the consequences of Calis been? If Lord Targhe had not attacked Calis, Adele would have grown to adulthood within the loving care of her family. Aisly would have married Evoric of Gournay, Esme would have married Rand of Targhe, and he himself would have been free of the obligation of marrying Adele, though in truth he no longer felt her to be such an obligation.

  If it had not been for Lord Brogan’s experience with Esme’s betrothal, he would have felt no need to betroth Adele to Rafe. The idea that he could have been sending the poor child to he knew not what, had stopped Lord Brogan from entrusting her to anyone else. He had not been comfortable in handing her over to his good friend Lord Drogand, who had offered to make her bride to his son Leofric. It had made sense, her lands marched along side those of the House of Drogand, but it had been too soon, too close to the dreadful mistake he had almost made, and he had found he could not do it.

  “Have you, or indeed are you married, Finn?”

  “No.”

  “You could not tell, Adele?” asked Eda dryly.

  Adele ignored her.

  “You mean you never even came close?”

  Rafe fought within himself to find a suitable answer for this question.

  “I was once betrothed.”

  Adele wondered if he had loved the lady very much, for he would no longer meet her eyes.

  “What happened? Did she…?” Adele broke off not knowing how to form the question.

  “She did not die, no.”

  “She did not wish to marry you, eh?” Eda asked.

  Rafe blinked at this suggestion.

  “I do not recall asking her.”

  “Then,” Adele considered thoughtfully, “did you not wish to marry her?”

  How was he to answer that question? For endless seconds he remained silent until he felt Adele’s soft hand cover his own.

  “I am sorry; I did not mean to bring to mind something that pains you.”

  “It does not pain me.”

  “Oh,” Adele removed her hand flustered. “Poor Finn; you did not like her very much at all, did you?”

  To Adele’s amazement Rafe began to laugh, his whole form shaking.

  “How did you reach that conclusion?”

  “What other conclusion could there be?” objected Adele. “If she saw naught disagreeable in marrying you, you must have disliked her heartily to have broken a betrothal and to have nothing more to say of her other than you never asked her if she had found the idea of marrying you pleasing!”

  “I am sure you must be right,” he grinned.

  “I am, I must be!”

  “Such assurance!” admonished Rafe. “You will find, my lady, that even though you are sure and feel you must be correct about something, there is often a circumstance of which you know nothing that changes matters completely.”

  “I see.” Adele was thoughtful for some time. “I would you might tell it to me, Finn.”

  Rafe’s amusement disappeared abruptly. Great goodness, tell her that she was the lady they were talking of? Tell her all?

  “It is difficult for me to talk of it, my lady.”

  “I know that it must be, but surely a problem shared is a problem halved?”

  “Problem?” Rafe had a sudden suspicion that they were no longer talking of the same thing. “Of what problem do you speak?”

  It was Adele’s turn to look surprised.

  “But it was you who spoke of it!” she answered. “I should have said nothing but it seemed to me that you wished to talk of your worry.”

  “What worry?”

  “Who is worried?” asked Eda with a shrug.

  Adele bent a frown on her friend.

  “Be silent, you merely confuse things more.” She turned back to Rafe, large eyes looking up into his with a lost expression in their depths. “Where was I?”

  “Confused. We both were.”

  Adele chuckled.

  “It seems we are no further forward then.”

  “So it would seem; we were talking of worry.”

  Adele’s brow cleared.

  “So we were! I thought that you wished to talk of the worry that has plagued you since our camp was attacked. The one that is more than just the thought that someone followed us.” Adele paused. “Was that not what y
ou were speaking of, Finn?”

  Rafe was silent, staring in to the flames and trying to decide if he should confide.

  “Finn?”

  “You are right, there is something amiss,” he began, looking out in to the darkness that had fallen. “You remember my telling you that I heard horses?”

  Adele nodded.

  “That is what perplexes me.”

  “Why?”

  “Can you not see? They never gave chase to us. If they had we must surely have fallen into their hand, but they never did.” Rafe shrugged. “Nor is that an end to the matter, for they follow us still. They do not ride hard and have rarely been less than a few hours behind us. Why? Why do they follow us if they mean us no harm? If they do wish to attack us, why do they not make their move? And who the he…?” Rafe halted abruptly, recalling Adele and Eda’s presence. “And who are they?”

  “Who indeed?” Eda looked thoughtful. “Do you truly have no idea, or are you concealing your fear inspiring suspicions from us?”

  “I have no idea,” returned Rafe shortly. He did not like to admit this ignorance as it was a lack of knowledge he found it hard to forgive himself for. He should know, or at the very least have enough facts to make an educated guess. Yet he had nothing, just the strange behaviour that their pursuers were exhibiting. It gave him no clue at all to either their identity or their intentions. He became aware suddenly that Adele was shivering and cursed himself.

  “I should not have bothered you with the matter, now you are worried over it.”

  Adele looked bemusedly up at Rafe, wondering at the remorse in his voice.

  “Because I tremble you mean?” She shook her head. “Do not regard it; ‘tis only that I am still a little cold.” Adele fixed him with clear, trusting eyes. “I know that you will protect us and that we have nothing to fear.”

  Rafe glanced down at both of the ladies shivering in the inadequate shelter of the cave. Bless Adele and the day on which she had been born! How could she show such faith in him when he had let them down so terribly? He hadn’t even been able to keep them warm. He looked down at the two women shivering in the inadequate shelter.

  It was of course the only sensible and practical solution, but he doubted they would receive the suggestion he was about to make with anything but indignation.

  “You know, it really would be best if…” Rafe faltered as Adele’s trusting gaze turned sleepily upon him. “That is, we would all be much warmer if… if we shared our heat.”

  Rafe swallowed uncomfortably as Eda’s head snapped round to pin him with an outraged and indignant glare. Absolute silence greeted this statement, and Rafe began to feel rather ill used. After all, he was thinking of their comfort: yet they were looking at him as though he had suggested something in questionable taste. At least, that was not precisely true, for Adele’s expression was of innocent bewilderment.

  “Share our heat?” A frown creased her brow. “How?”

  How?

  Great goodness; she wanted him to explain? Suddenly the suggestion he had made seemed almost… he struggled to find the right word … almost … indecent!

  Rafe felt his cheeks grow warm, and shifted his gaze from hers. Looking out into the darkness he wished that whoever it was that followed them would strike and end his discomfort. It was only the sound of Adele breaking into unrestrained laughter that brought his gaze back.

  “Forgive me, Finn.” Her voice shook a little with lingering mirth, but there was true penitence in her face. “That was very unkind of me but… but I just could not help myself.” She spread out her palms in an appealing gesture that begged him to see the funny side. “You looked so very discomfited, so wholly unlike the knave you supposed we would think you. And you looked so horrified when you thought you would have to explain.”

  Rafe was not sure he enjoyed being teased, but it was very hard to be angry with Adele when she was shaking with irresistible laughter.

  “I should think I might have looked horrified; I am not sure I am old enough to participate in such a discussion.”

  Adele giggled again, but it was a nervous sound this time. Her eyes looked awkwardly into his, as though she were trying to steel herself for something.

  “It would be for the best, would it not, Finn?”

  “Adele, you cannot possibly be thinking…”

  “What other choice do we have, Eda?” Adele hunched a shoulder defensively. “It… it is not so very bad and… and Lord Rafe would understand that there was no other option, would he not, Finn?” Her eyes pleaded with him to ease her fears away. “It would not be wrong?”

  Rafe felt acutely uncomfortable in the face of her apprehension and Eda’s scandalised recoiling.

  “Lord Rafe would understand perfectly, have no fear or worry that you commit any offence.”

  Adele nodded slowly, as though trying to convince herself that what he said was true. She turned to meet Eda’s disapproving look.

  “Eda… it… there is no other way to keep warm.”

  Rafe saw the appeal in Adele’s voice smote Eda, and watched the other woman’s rigid disapproval dissolve.

  “I suppose it is better that we be comfortable together than sleepless apart,” she replied at last.

  It was sometime later, after a great deal of awkwardness, that they were settled. Rafe had spread his cloak wide that both ladies might recline upon it. Eda had curled up against Adele, who had in turn curled up toward him, resting her head upon his shoulder. With thoughtful consideration she had taken her cloak off that it might also cover him. Such ministrations seemed to Rafe to call for some comment on his part.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes, thank you, Finn.” Her voice was drowsy. “Sleep well.”

  “And you, my lady.”

  Rafe could already feel warmth beginning to spread over him and a few minutes later his head drooped, and his cheek sank to rest against Adele’s hair.

  Chapter Eleven