“Sometimes. I think if people just saw you, even if they were afraid at first, they’d grow accustomed. I hate the suspicion—the fear. It’s terrible.”
“Terrible for you or terrible for me?”
Philip sighed. Both. You’ve never known what it is like to be accepted and liked. That is just unnatural.”
The little gloved hand sat down the bowl she held and touched his arm. “I now know what it is like to be accepted—liked even. I know.”
Chapter 17
Lady de Clare
Weeks passed with hours of archery practice. Philip, despite Tom’s lack of training, learned to repair arrows expertly. His constant reusing destroyed the fletch of each arrow, requiring replacement of the feathers. In addition, the tips needed sharpening, remolding, or replacing. Peter the head archer was highly pleased with his skills, and often sent home dozens of arrows to be repaired, thinking it’d be fine practice for the boy.
As well as his new arrow skills, his accuracy grew more consistent every day. He’d meet with Dove in the clearing, go over his lessons with her until they both knew them thoroughly, and then pick up his bow and practice his shooting until his arms could take no more. They shared meals, stories, lessons, and work nearly every day except for Thursday and Sunday afternoons.
Those days, she watched from her favorite hiding places as Philip listened to the stories Broðor Clarke told the village lads or when he played with the other boys on the headland. She’d laugh to see him stumbling after his friends, his head covered by a sack. Sometimes the boys skipped rocks across the nearby stream, and this drove her crazy with frustration. She could skip a rock better than any of the boys, but they’d never know it.
One Saturday in late July, while Philip and Dove worked on his skills, the faint sound of Bertha’s chimes called her back to the cabin. She raced across the clearing, through the trees, and burst into the cottage out of breath. “Yes, Bertha?”
“I’ve just seen Lord Morgan and several carriages leave the castle heading east. I think they’re going to Scarborough.”
“I see.” She didn’t see. Why Lord Morgan’s comings and goings should be any of her concern, made no sense to Dove. Philip reached the cottage and listened to Bertha’s news curiously.
“You don’t see the significance of this? That fool of a nobleman has left his daughter here while off on a pleasure trip to the faire. Half of our village is leaving any day now.”
“I see.” Now confidence filled Dove’s voice. She did see. She understood very well. “I wonder that he did not think about the village leaving. Who is taking care of Lady Aurelia?”
“He sent for some noblewoman from the east country somewhere. Why not take his child with him and save the woman the fatigue. It is just like a man to expect a woman to suffer a journey for his own ease.”
“Perhaps,” Dove said quietly, “He was more concerned with his lame daughter’s comfort than a woman who is old enough to choose whether she is willing to sacrifice her comfort for another.”
“And perhaps she just wants a chance to be the next Lady Morgan.”
Philip thought he heard a trace of amusement in Dove’s voice as she agreed. “Perhaps.”
“Do not mock me, child. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. If you see or hear anyone around us that seems off, have that boy who is listening outside my door, go tell whomever he talks to at the castle. They need to know.”
Philip stepped in the door. “Do you think it’d be impertinent to call on little Aurelia in a day or two with a question about my lessons? It may be that I could find an honest and plausible reason for spending a little time with her to see if she is comfortable.”
“Ask your castle friend. I think it’s a good idea, but what does an old midwife know? I wouldn’t have left a child of mine that had just had a recent kidnapping scare. I wouldn’t even leave her for several weeks of pleasuring. Children need supervision.”
Her words made Philip’s blood simmer near the boiling point. The hypocrisy of her assuming the Lord Morgan’s “neglect” of his daughter when she’d shown little interest in Dove was absurd at best. Supervision? Since when had Bertha ever given Dove the kind of supervision a child needed?
“My modor would agree with you heartily.” Each word was chosen specifically to make the strongest impact without angering the woman too directly.
“Run along and tell her some more of your ridiculous stories.” Though she spoke mockingly, Philip caught a trace of interest and glanced at her sharply. Feigning offense at her derision of his faith, Philip took Dove’s hand protectively.
“You mock the Lord’s history, but someday your knees too will bow and confess that Jesus is the Lord God Almighty.”
“So, Joshua marched around the city seven times a day for seven days? Just because he thought a god told him to? Was he stupid?”
Philip shook his head laughing. “No. They marched around the city once a day for six days, and on the seventh day, they marched seven times.”
“What good did that do?”
“Obedience. As Samuel told Saul, ‘Obedience is better than sacrifice.’”
“Well,” Dove said excitedly. “If you think about it; it makes sense. If there are dishes on a table, and you bang the table with your fists, the dishes won’t fall over. However, if you keep banging for a long time, every day for a week, eventually they’ll vibrate off the table onto the floor.”
Philip started to argue that God didn’t need the feet of men to vibrate down the walls of Jericho, but Dove sighed as though she’d just heard the most heroic thing. “Your god is an extremely intelligent god.”
“What makes you say that?” He was even more confused than ever.
“Well, a god who could speak everything into being could certainly speak a wall into falling, but he used logical actions that just might work, leaving people forced to trust that he did it rather than they. They had to choose to give him credit. That’s powerful.”
Mentally squirming, Philip tried to change the subject. “So, do you think Bertha is right? Was Lord Morgan selfish or foolish to leave Aurelia right now?”
“I don’t understand what is at the faire. And why did you change the subject?”
Unable to explain his discomfort, Philip focused on the faire instead. “I think he’s meeting with someone or something. I know that half the village is leaving in a big caravan to sell and buy.”
Unease settled over them until eventually Dove stood. “This is ridiculous. Don’t you have anything you can ask Lady Aurelia now? Don’t you need to know if amo is better than amas or something?”
“Come on. We’ll ask Peter.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. The unlikely friends scampered through the trees, over the grassy knoll near the castle and up the road to the gate.
Martin, the surly guard that didn’t care for Philip’s frequent visits to the castle, was more irascible than ever. “She don’t need to be bothered by the likes of you two. Go away.”
“Peter has—” Philip held up the quiver of arrows he’d grabbed as an afterthought.
“Fine.” Martin knew better than to interfere with Peter’s plans with Philip. The boy knew he was misleading the guard, but he and Dove had felt a growing unease all afternoon. Philip wanted it soothed by Peter’s unruffled demeanor.
They found Peter in his cottage with drawings and lists scattered across the table. “I don’t have time to work with you today, Philip. You’ll have to come back.”
Philip turned to leave, but the head archer’s voice said, “Don’t come back for a couple of weeks, lad. I’ll be busy.”
The children stared at each other. Peter never talked to them like that. “Peter…” Dove tried again. “Peter the archer!”
The man’s head snapped up and his distraction was gone. “Did you need something, Philip?”
Realizing that he’d spoken unconsciously, Philip decided to ignore his first words and proceed as though they’d just arrived. “Is it t
rue? Is Lord Morgan gone?”
The man hesitated as though thinking about whether he should respond. “His carriage and several of his knights left this morning for Scarborough.”
“And Lady Aurelia? Is she at home alone?” Dove’s concern couldn’t have been more obvious, even if Philip and Peter could have seen the furrowed brow and drooping lips beneath her hood.
“Lady de Clare from Bramburg Castle is in attendance for little Aurelia’s comfort as are the other ladies of the castle.”
Philip whispered something to Dove, and the girl slipped from the cottage racing for the side door to the castle. It amazed him how everyone around her, from large grown men to tiny children shrank from the child’s presence. The rustling of papers brought him back to the reason he’d come. “Is the danger of kidnapping past?”
He watched closely as Peter stacked the papers on top of one another, turning the top one upside down to hide whatever the contents of those documents. The head archer looked up at the boy still standing near the doorway. “In times like these, there is never freedom from danger.”
“Times like what? I don’t understand.” Philip tried to keep the frustration from his voice but didn’t succeed. The ambiguity of adults who wanted to answer a question without truly giving an answer was a sore spot with him.
Immediately, Peter recognized his error. Philip wasn’t a young child to be placated, and yet, he wasn’t a man with whom Peter could confide. “I suppose you know of the raids in the east?”
“The Scots? I thought we were at peace with them.”
“So we thought, too, but Lady de Clare has come here for shelter. Lady Evaline and she were distant cousins or something like that.”
“Her castle is in danger, and she fled?” The idea was preposterous. The castles owed their allegiance to the crown! The lords and ladies were obligated to protect them for the King.
“I only tell you what I was told. She came here for sanctuary, and Lord Morgan gave it before riding off to Scarborough.”
Understanding slowly lapped the edges of his mind like the waves on the shore. “I think I know what you have not said. Shall we come to visit Lady Aurelia often while her fæder is away?”
“That would probably be wise. Bring the cleric with you. No one will bother you about coming if he is here.”
“Broðor Clarke always seems welcome wherever he goes.”
“That he is,” Peter agreed softly. “If that’s all…”
Turning, Philip stepped out the door and then knocked once more. “Peter?”
“Hmm?” The man was already studying his papers again. Overcome by curiosity, Philip stepped forward, glanced at the two he could see, and then laid his quiver across the table grabbing Peter’s attention. “Did you need something more?” Surreptitiously, the head archer slipped the one paper over the rest again.
“If raiders came here, for whatever reason, would we all come to the castle to help defend it?”
“You would. With so many gone to Scarborough, we’d need all the help we could get, and the villagers would be safest behind our walls.”
“Would I be allowed to shoot?”
With a sigh that Philip misunderstood to mean he’d pestered a little too much, the head archer smiled ruefully at his eager pupil. “Philip, if something happened to require the village to seek sanctuary in our walls, we’ll need everyone who can pick up a bow, sword, or rock.”
“Dove can swing a sling like no one I’ve ever seen…”
“I’ll remember that.” Peter came around the desk, handed Philip his quiver, and with one arm around the boy’s shoulders, led him outside to the shooting range. “Practice all you want son, but enjoy your lessons and play time with the girls. I fear you’ll want those memories all too soon.”
The archer’s words bothered him more than a little. It sounded as though life as they knew it was about to vanish, and that increased the unease he’d felt all day. Inside the castle, Philip found Lady Aurelia and Dove reciting Latin verbs in unison and laughing at Dove’s misapplied conjugations. A woman, in her thirties, and much overdressed for an average day at the castle, lounged in the coveted window seat while little Aurelia struggled to sit comfortably on large pillows on the floor.
“Can I bring you something more comfortable to sit on?” Philip ensured his voice carried to the window seat.
“I’ll need to move soon, my legs are growing numb, but the floor is a nice change from my bed.”
“Are the window seats no longer comfortable?” Dove’s curious question sounded as purely innocent as Philip’s had sounded accusatory.
Lady Aurelia bit her lip. “I think the change is good for me.”
A deep melodic voice floated from the window seat. “Little Aurelia, such an outlandish name, if you need to sit in my seat, all you need to do is say so. I had no idea you were accustomed to sitting on something so hard.”
The words, though they sounded kind and considerate, seemed sinister to Philip, and he felt a shudder ripple over Dove. He whispered for Dove to watch the woman, and then lifted Lady Aurelia easily. “Where did you get the name Aurelia? I’ve never heard it anywhere else.”
“Father says it is the name of an important highway that the Ancient Romans built near Nice, France. He studied the history and named me for it.”
As Philip settled Aurelia in her usual spot in the window seat, he asked Lady de Clare to hand him the pillows from the floor. Dove watched closely as the woman nearly floated across the floor to retrieve the pillows and brought them to Aurelia’s side. With a withering look at Philip, she adjusted the child until she was perfectly comfortable and then called for a padded bench.
“Philip, I think you’ve exhausted our little invalid quite enough. It’s kind of her to help you and your—” she choked as she glanced at Dove, “— friend, but she’s too fragile to be taxed like this. I suggest that in the future, you ask your tutor’s help.”
“Father likes me to study with Philip and Dove, Lady de Clare. He’ll be angry if I don’t keep up with my lessons.”
“I’ll get you a tutor if you need help. Village children are unsuitable companions for a young lady of your position.”
Her voice never changed. Although she sounded as gentle and kind as a woman could sound, Philip saw the woman’s eyes grow cold and hard as she spoke. Dove tensed, and tears sprang to Aurelia’s face, but Philip forced himself to give a weak but natural laugh. “Oh, don’t distress yourself, Lady Aurelia; we’ll be back soon enough. Peter the head archer expects your fæder back in a fortnight. Let’s race to see who can commit the most to memory.”
Without another word, he turned to leave, but Dove flew across the room and wrapped her arms around the little girl. Lady de Clare did not attempt to hide her revulsion and ordered the child from the house. As they slipped from the room, Philip overheard the incensed woman grumble, “Now we’ll have to have you bathed. Those children must be coated with disease.”
Aurelia’s protest was too muffled for Philip and Dove to hear as they hurried through the castle and back to Peter’s cottage. Philip knocked, stepped inside, and looked around the room. There was no one there. Curiosity overrode his conscience, and Philip hurried to the stack of papers on Peter’s table. Seconds later, he raced from the cottage leaving Dove staring at the empty doorway in confusion.
Chapter 18
Suspicions
The castle archers, knights, guardsmen, and soldiers were all conspicuously absent as Philip raced through the castle courtyard. Wydo, one of the older guardsmen, waved for Philip to come to him. The boy noticed that he moved farther and farther from the gatehouse as they talked.
“Where is Peter? I have something he needs to know.”
“Ach now don’t be working yourself into a frenzy over nothing, boy.”
This was an odd statement. Why had Wydo assumed he was panicked over something? He’d only said that he had information for Peter. “Oh, I’m not riled about anything, Wydo. I just need to tell hi
m something. Where is he?”
Philip watched closely as the older man fidgeted. This was highly unusual. Wydo was one of the most coolly collected men in the castle grounds. The man’s eyes shifted toward the gatehouse several times, as he assured Philip that Peter would be available to hear his ‘concerns’ later. Before Philip could ask another question, Dove flew across the courtyard and whispered something into Philip’s ear.
“I guess it’s time for us to go. I’ll see you later, Wydo. Have a peaceful watch.” The children walked a few cubits away before he finally stopped and pretended to listen closely to Dove. Turning, he called, “Dove saw horses riding up to the south gate. Is Lord Morgan returning already?”
“That’ll be someone for Lady de Clare, I’ll wager. I’ll go see.”
The moment Wydo turned the corner, the children raced to the gatehouse and slipped inside the door. From the sounds above, it seemed obvious someone was giving orders, making plans, and though they couldn’t understand the discussion, the tension in the air seized Philip and Dove in its grip. Something was afoot.
“What do you think—” Dove began.
“I don’t know, but I do think we should go back to the cottage before someone sees us.”
The afternoon breeze caught the door, sending a loud bang reverberating through the lower rooms of the gatehouse. Without waiting to see if they’d been discovered, the children raced to Peter’s cottage and hurried inside, barring the door behind them. “I think you should walk through the woods surrounding the castle and see if you hear anything.”
Dove eyed him suspiciously. Was he trying to get rid of her, or would it truly be a help? She saw both ideas as equally plausible. “How—”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you! Do you think I want to face Peter alone? He’s always kinder when you’re around, but you can stay hidden and quiet better than I can. You’re more agile, and—”
The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series Page 14
