by Aston, Alexa
As they entered, he said, “I think you should rest, Mother.”
She nodded sadly. “I fear I will never be at rest again, my son. My life was your father’s. It will be difficult seeing your brother step into his position as Wakeland. I worry what will become of Wakefield under Baldwin’s leadership—or lack of it.”
Matilda never referred to Baldwin as Drake’s half-brother. She hadn’t liked to distinguish that small difference between the pair but Drake had never looked upon Baldwin as a true brother. He’d done everything he could for years to build a bond between them. Baldwin had ignored every attempt. Finally, Drake gave up.
“Let me escort you to the solar,” he said, not wanting to discuss what Baldwin would do now that he was the new earl.
“I know of the animosity between you,” she said softly. “Try your best to get along with him, Drake.”
“I will hold fast to what I do. As captain of the guard, I will ensure Wakefield is safe from harm. That its soldiers are well-trained and its defenses able to withstand any attack. I know how you feel, Mother, but I don’t look upon Baldwin as family. He is merely my liege lord now. He will receive my protection. I will uphold my responsibilities. I don’t expect anything to change in our relationship. Not that we have one.”
As they started down the long corridor leading to the solar, Drake saw two servants emerge, clothing draped over their arms. As both approached, they lowered their eyes and hurried by. His belly tightened. He wouldn’t ask them what they were doing. Wouldn’t accuse them of wrongdoing. Wouldn’t protest their actions.
Because he knew who was responsible.
They arrived at the solar and stood in the doorway a moment. His mother gasped.
“No, move that aside,” Gunnora directed a servant. “Place it over there. And that table. I don’t like it where it is now. Move it away, as well.”
Drake entered and went to his sister-in-law. “What are you doing?” he ground out, fury racing through him.
She sniffed. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making the solar comfortable for my husband and me. It’s ours now.”
More servants appeared from the bedchamber and Drake realized the clothing they carried was his father’s.
“Are those Father’s clothes?”
“Yes,” Gunnora said. “Lady Matilda’s things have already been moved.”
“Where?” Matilda said, tears streaming down her cheeks as her eyes surveyed the solar.
Gunnora snapped her fingers and all activity ceased.
“You may all leave. Lord Wakeland and I need to speak privately with Sir Drake and Lady Matilda.”
The solar quickly cleared as Drake fumed. Baldwin emerged from the bedchamber, sporting a cloak that had belonged to his father.
Preening, he said, “I’ve always been fond of this cloak. How do I look in it, my dear?”
“Marvelous, my lord earl,” his wife responded. “Come here, dearest. We must have that talk that we spoke about.”
Baldwin glanced to Drake and Matilda and took a seat. Gunnora did the same. Neither offered Drake or his mother one and they remained standing. He seethed, wishing to strike the smug smile off his half-brother’s face.
“I would have something of Father’s,” Drake said firmly. “A small token to remember him by.”
“I don’t think so,” Baldwin said, his gaze meeting Drake’s. “I am the Earl of Wakeland now. Everything within the keep belongs to me. Every room. Everything within each room. That includes the earl’s clothing. Books. Weapons. Nothing is yours. As the eldest son, I receive everything. The title. The lands. You are left with nothing.”
Matilda slipped her hand around his arm and squeezed gently. Drake forced himself to keep motionless and remain silent, knowing if he moved or spoke, he would regret what was said or done.
“You’ll both be leaving Wakefield,” Gunnora announced. “In the morning.”
His mother’s grip tightened on his arm.
“You are usurpers,” Baldwin said. “Father’s first marriage was his true one.”
“You can’t do this,” Drake said, feeling his face grow flush with anger.
“Can’t I?” Baldwin’s evil smile sent a chill down Drake’s spine. “I’m the new earl. I have the power to do whatever I wish on my land and inside my keep.”
“You don’t know anything about this estate. Its tenants. Its defenses.”
“I’ll learn,” Baldwin said with airy confidence. “I’ll have others to guide me.” He reached across and took his wife’s hand. “Including my beloved Gunnora. She is the wisest woman I know. Her counsel will be what is most important.”
“Where are we to go?” Matilda asked.
Baldwin turned his attention to her. “You’re being sent to a convent.”
“You can’t thrust Mother from her home,” Drake protested.
“You aren’t the head of this family, Drake. As earl, I make these decisions for all Harcourts. In fact, I have already sent word to the nunnery. It’s a day’s ride away. They are expecting Matilda tomorrow evening.” He smiled again. “Drake can escort you. Of course, you may take nothing with you.”
“What about my jewels?” Matilda challenged. “I brought some into the marriage and they are mine. Not yours.”
“You are wrong about that,” Baldwin stated. “You will go with only the clothes on your back.”
“The good sisters will not take me in without coin or jewels being offered for my keep.”
The earl shrugged. “That’s not my concern.”
By now, Drake’s anger permeated every pore. “I won’t have you treat Mother this way.”
“She’s not my mother,” Baldwin said, his eyes narrowing.
“Of course, she is!” Drake shouted. “She raised you. She loves you—though only God knows why she would.”
Baldwin leaped to his feet. “My mother carried me in her womb. Not this woman. My mother died giving birth to me. At this woman’s hands. For all I know, Matilda wanted to be the countess and did her sister in so she could become Countess of Wakeland.”
Drake lunged at Baldwin as his mother shoved him away.
She faced her stepson. “I loved my sister,” Matilda said. “I would have died for her. When she passed birthing you, I didn’t know if I could go on. But you were there, Baldwin. All tiny and wrinkled and crying. I knew she would have wanted me to care for you. Love you. Treat you as my own child. And I did. You never accepted me, though. You pushed me away every chance you got. I have done everything I could to show you tenderness. I held you in my arms. I raised you. Yet you have rejected me at every turn.
“I still love you, Baldwin. I always will. But I have never liked you. You have something evil lurking within you. You’re nothing like either of your parents.” Matilda turned and glared at Gunnora. “Your wife has watered this seed of evil within you. She is the one who is encouraging you to exile me from Wakefield. And what of Drake? Will Gunnora cast him aside, as well?”
Baldwin glared at her. “I don’t care where Drake goes. He can sell his services. Find a new liege lord. Neither of you will ever be welcomed again at Wakefield Castle. You will never set foot on my lands in life or death.”
“You go too far, Baldwin,” Matilda warned. “It’s my right to be buried next to Manfred.”
“No,” Baldwin said. “Never. My mother rests next to him. As his true wife should.”
“You’re jealous of Drake,” Matilda said. “You know he is the one who has the admiration and love of the people, something you’ll never gain no matter how hard you try.”
“Get out!” roared Baldwin. “Stay far from my sight until you leave in the morning.”
Drake shrugged off his mother’s grasp and closed the gap between him and his half-brother. Gripping the man’s tunic, he yanked Baldwin close until their noses almost touched.
“You are a bastard, Baldwin. A horrible, terrible man. You shame the Harcourt name with your despicable behavior. May you and your wi
fe rot in the bowels of Hell.”
He released Baldwin and shoved him hard. Baldwin stumbled back and fell into his chair.
Drake wheeled and caught his mother’s hand, pulling her from the solar as both the earl and countess loudly cursed them. He hurried his mother down the hall, stopping at his former bedchamber. Opening the door, he had them enter and closed it behind them.
Matilda’s face had gone stark white, as if all the blood had been drained from her. He embraced her, hugging her tightly, trying to offer some small comfort after Baldwin’s tirade. She sobbed, gripping his shoulders, her words unintelligible.
Finally, she quieted and he released her.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Baldwin has all of the power. I had no idea how deep his resentment ran for both of us.”
“Something within him is broken,” she said. “Gunnora encourages it.” She touched his cheek. “It will be all right, my son. I think it best that we will be gone from Wakefield. I don’t think either of us would care to see what becomes of the estate under Baldwin’s hand.”
“I promise you won’t be in the convent forever, Mother. I will find a way to provide for you. I am a gifted knight, with rare skills. I will find a new liege lord to serve. Somehow, I will earn enough coin to give you a new home.”
“No, Drake. I am old. Most of my life has been lived. You still have yours ahead of you. Once you leave the convent tomorrow, we will part ways.” She cradled his face in her hands. “Know I will always love you and that I pray for you. I hope you will have a good life.”
*
The next morning, Drake waited for his mother outside the chapel. It would be the last mass they would attend at Wakefield. He wasn’t a sentimental man but home pulled at his heart. No matter where he went, Wakefield would always be home. Baldwin and Gunnora could never take away his memories of the time he’d spent here with a loving father and mother.
The last stragglers filed in and the doors to the chapel began closing. Somehow, he must have missed his mother’s arrival. Mayhap she had come earlier to pray for their safe journey to the convent today and what would come in both of their futures.
Drake slipped inside the stone edifice as mass began and walked along the edge, skimming the crowd as he searched for her. He doubled back and did the same on the other side of the chapel but she was nowhere to be found. He found it odd. His mother never missed mass. Her devout faith was the cornerstone of her life.
His uneasiness grew as the mass continued. He wondered if, while everyone at Wakefield was here, she might be taking a last walk through the corridors of the keep, saying goodbye to the place of her heart. He left during the final prayer, eager to get ahead of the crowd who attended before they made their way to the great hall to break their fast and begin their day.
Entering the keep, silence struck him. He rushed up the stairs and went to his old bedchamber, rapping lightly. When his mother didn’t call out for him to enter, he slipped inside, thinking she might be in prayer. A lone candle burned low next to the bed, allowing him to see her shape in the bed. Drake breathed a sigh of relief having found her and went to the bed. In sleep, her face looked years younger. He hated to disturb her peace but knew they must get on the road if they were to reach the nunnery before nightfall.
“Mother?” he called gently and took her hand.
Shock rippled through him. For a moment, he froze, unable to move. Then he released her hand and cradled her cold cheek.
Matilda, Lady Wakefield, was dead.
Anger poured through him. Drake knew she’d died from grief. Losing her beloved husband. Banished from her home. Facing an uncertain future. Worried about her only son. Fearful of what would happen to her people under Baldwin’s hand. Drake blamed his half-brother for this death. Hurt and grief mixed with his anger, knowing he’d lost both parents now and he was alone in the world. His father had been a giant, the biggest influence in Drake’s life, but it had been his mother and her gentle, guiding hand that had also played a substantial role in making him the man that he was.
Bending close, he brushed his lips against her cool, pale cheek, suddenly feeling as if he were aimlessly adrift at sea. He raised his head and spied a folded parchment on the pillow next to her head, his name scrawled across it in her impeccable handwriting. His gut clenched. With trepidation, he opened the page and held it close to the candle. He’d always struggled with reading and writing and dreaded what the words before him held.
My dearest Drake –
From the beginning, you were a wise, old soul. I would look into your eyes and know you understood the world in a way few others did. The foolish decisions made by Baldwin will be hard for you to accept. I know Wakefield runs in your blood but you must put aside your love for it and its people and carve a new path for yourself.
I couldn’t have you worrying about me and I know those thoughts would have dominated your days and nights, changing the course of your life. Your life should be your own, Drake, lived for you. Not for me. Besides, I wanted to go and be with your father. We were never separated for a single day in all the years of our marriage and I cannot bear the thought of us being apart even for a short while. I go to him now, Drake. I promise that we will always watch over you.
I’ve passed along my knowledge of herbs to you and can assure you that my death was painless. I merely slipped into a deep sleep.
Please don’t worry about me, my darling child. Most of all, don’t seek revenge. Forgive Baldwin and his ignorant wife. They focus on all the wrong things, material possessions and prestige. I beg you to keep your honor and courage and take the high road.
My greatest hope is that you will someday find a woman to love with your entire heart and soul, one who will love you in return as much as your father loved me. That will be the gift which will make your life sweet and give it meaning.
I go now, Drake. Know that I am at peace because I am with Manfred for all Eternity.
He read it twice. It was as if she’d rammed a sword straight through, gutting him. The agony of losing her and his father, along with his home and friends, was almost too much to bear. Grief mingled with loneliness and hurt. His life would never be the same. He no longer wanted to be tied to this place. Too many memories lingered. Whether he knew it or not, Baldwin actually did Drake a favor by sending him away.
Taking the parchment, he held it to the flickering candle before it sputtered and died. The page caught a spark and slowly burned. He must protect the secret. That her death was by her own hand. If known, she wouldn’t be given a funeral mass or be allowed to rest in hallowed ground. As the paper disintegrated, Drake thought his life did the same.
He kissed her brow, grateful that he’d had this woman in his life. With that, he marched down the stairs and into the great hall, where Baldwin and Gunnora sat upon the dais breaking their fast.
“My mother is dead,” Drake said. “She has died of a broken heart.”
Chapter Three
Mallowbourne Castle, Somerset—March 1336
Lady Faylinn d’Albert, Baroness of Gaynesford, left the training yard, satisfied with what she had seen of today’s exercises. She crossed into the bailey and stopped to talk to the smithy and his son before making her way toward the keep. She’d become more involved in the running of Mallowbourne during the last two years, due to her husband’s age. At three score and two, Amaury was showing many signs of slowing down physically. He also proved to be forgetful and repeated himself constantly. It made Faylinn wonder when his end would come.
And what would happen to her.
She’d come to Mallowbourne almost a decade ago as a bride of seventeen, a capable young woman who’d overseen domestic affairs at her father’s castle. Her mother had died after Faylinn’s birth, having already delivered three sons previously. From an early age, she had taken up the duties of a noblewoman, wanting to please her father. When his good friend, Amaury, lost his second wife in childbirth, Faylinn was sent to be Amaury’s new bride and moth
er to his seven-year-old daughter, Sabelina.
Taking over the running of the keep proved easy. Faylinn was used to managing a large castle and implemented many practices she’d used at Ashland, her childhood home. She came to know their tenants, delivering their babes and celebrating harvests alongside them. On Judgment Days, she sat on the dais with her husband, listening to the cases brought before them. Usually, she had some knowledge of what would be presented since she spoke to so many at Mallowbourne. It allowed her to advise Amaury on the problems that might be set before him. They would talk of possible solutions prior to the cases being presented. On the rare occasion when some new issue presented itself, Amaury had learned to provide refreshments to those petitioning while he withdrew to consider the matter. He would ask Faylinn in private what she thought was the correct course of action before rendering the same decision and calling it his own.
For the past two years, she’d also become more involved with their steward and the estate’s business. Amaury had at first seemed to lose interest in discussing the harvests and what profits had been earned. Then she realized that he no longer understood everything the steward told him. When she confronted him, Amaury admitted the numbers no longer made sense to him. With the steward’s death last month, Faylinn had also taken up those duties until they could find a man she trusted to lead the estate.
She’d also become a frequent visitor to the training yard and met often with Sir Stephen, the captain of the guard, to discuss the men. Sir Stephen had encouraged her to hire a few additional knights and Faylinn had done so. Three of them proved to be good soldiers but the fourth, Sir Drake Harcourt, had been a welcomed addition. The knight could fight equally well with either hand, using a sword or mace, and quickly had taken on a role of leadership in the training. He’d proved popular with the men but, more importantly, Sir Drake treated all with genuine courtesy and respect. Faylinn knew this was one knight who adhered to his code of chivalry and would do what it took to protect Mallowbourne and its people. She realized Sir Stephen would need to be replaced in the near future, due to his advancing age, and hoped Sir Drake would take on the role of Mallowbourne’s captain.
