by Ashe Barker
“Ralf! Piers! Please, are you all right? Oh, please, please wake up. We have to find…”
He groans, his large body shifting under my hand. I stand, gazing further along the river, searching for a sign, any sign of another survivor.
“What the…? Linnet?”
I drop to my knees again as he rolls, coughing, onto his back.
“Piers! Thank God you are all right. Where is Ralf? We must find him. Please, get up. You must help me to look.”
We do not find Ralf that night, nor the next day. It is nearing midnight when Piers and I encounter the search party coming forth from Egremont to seek us out, our failure to arrive home having raised the alarm. It is pointless to continue the search in the dark but men are out at first light, Piers at their head. They have not let up. Piers is a man possessed and I am out of my mind with worry.
* * *
For three days now our own men and much of the populace from the surrounding villages have scoured the river banks and the shallows, tirelessly searching for the slightest sign, the least clue that might suggest Ralf escaped the raging torrent. They have found nothing.
Each night the weary troop of men at arms returns to Egremont, their dejection apparent in their drooping shoulders, their expressions of weary misery. None is more affected than Piers himself. His features are haggard, he barely eats, and I suspect he does not sleep. If he does, it is not with me.
I continue to occupy the earl’s bedchamber. Piers returns late at night and is gone before first light. He spends the intervening two or three hours in his own chamber on the other side of the solar. He does not seek me out, whether to share news of their progress, or to seek solace. I miss both my men, desperately.
This evening I seek my bed early, exhausted from worry and from my advancing pregnancy. I hear Piers moving about in the adjacent chamber but there is no knock on the door. No opportunity to unite in our grief and fear.
Agnes has long since left me to my slumbers but despite my fatigue I cannot sleep. I judge the time to be perhaps an hour before dawn and soon I know Piers will ride out for another day of desperate searching. On impulse I scramble from my bed and reach for a thick wool robe. I wrap it around my body and creep from my chamber.
The solar is empty, as I knew it would be. I step quickly across to the door leading to Piers’ room. I consider knocking but instead try the heavy latch. It opens and I peer through the crack.
One candle lends a faint glow of illumination but it is sufficient to see that Piers is not in his bed. I poke my head around the door and scan the gloom to locate him propped in a chair beside the dying embers of the fire. He is fully dressed apart from his sword belt and boots which lie in an untidy heap on the flagged floor beside him. A jug of mead stands untouched on the table beneath the window, as does a platter bearing half a loaf of bread and some hunks of cheese. Mrs. Murching’s efforts have been largely ignored by the entire household in these grim days as we await news of our missing earl.
Piers sleeps but his rest is fitful. He shifts in the hard seat, his fingers clutching at the arm of the chair as though he might grasp his brother’s hand and haul him back among us. Alas, he finds just the hard, cool timber. I slip through the door and approach, silent on bare feet, to kneel on the stone flags before him.
“My lord…” I hesitate to wake him, he has had so little sleep these last few days. But I need to speak to him and there will be no better opportunity. “My lord. Piers.”
He mumbles something in his sleep, barely coherent but I catch mention of Ralf, of the cold, of the need to save our babe. I cannot stem the tears flowing down my cheeks, though I have no illusions regarding the roots of their shared determination to rescue me that day. I carry precious cargo.
“Please, Sir Piers, please wake up. I need to talk to you.”
My urgent whispers must have penetrated his slumbers because he opens his eyes to regard me in the semi-darkness.
“Leave me be, little maid. I have no news to offer you.”
“I know that, my lord. But I was afraid, so lonely. I thought that perhaps you… perhaps you too…”
“He is my brother. Part of me. He is not gone. Do not say it, Linnet. Do not dare to say that.”
I shake my head. I share his horror at putting into words what the entire household must by now be thinking. “No, my lord. I would not. We will find him. You will find him, I know it. I do truly believe that. But I want you to know I am sorry. It was my fault, I should have controlled my horse better…”
He opens his eyes fully. “How was it your fault? Did you mean to throw yourself into the river that day?”
I shake my head. “Of course not but I could have taken better care. If I had not been so set on an excursion, if we had left earlier for home I would have been less tired…”
“As I recall Ralf was most desirous that we make the trip and he managed to persuade me to go along with it. It was against my better judgement. If anyone is to blame it is I. I should have reminded him of his duty, insisted we remain here.”
“You could have done no more, my lord.”
“And nor could you, little maid. Had it not been for the heavy rain in the last few weeks the river would not have been so high, nor the banks sodden and slippery. Your mount lost her footing but it could have easily been me, or Ralf, who toppled into the water.”
I pause for a few moments, remembering the icy chill and my absolute terror as the current bore me away. I was so certain I would die. “He saved me. I heard his voice. He pulled me from the water and pushed me toward the branch overhanging the river. He told me to grab hold of it and to hang on. He was there, right behind me.”
“I know. I saw. I saw you drag yourself toward the bank. You were clinging to that bough and Ralf was still in the river but he was swimming. He was with you. I believed you were safe, both of you. Then something hit me on the head and the next I knew I was lying on the grass and you were beside me, screaming for Ralf. I do not recall how I got out of the river. I remember nothing else of it.”
“Where can he be? Someone must know, someone must have seen him.” I gaze up at Piers, my misery etched on my face.
He cups my cheek in his hand, his gaze intense. “We will search until we find him. I will never give up. I will bring my brother home.”
“I pray you do. I love him. I owe him my life.”
“Aye, little maid. I know that too.” His eyelids droop again, he is bone weary. I rest my cheek on his lap.
When next I open my eyes, I am lying on his bed, alone. It is daylight and Piers is gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Piers has been as good as his word. It is eight days since that dreadful afternoon and he has at last brought Ralf home.
The earl’s body was discovered by a peasant fishing in the Ehen about ten miles downstream from where I fell into the water. Ralf had become entangled in reeds at the edge of the river and the man caught sight of him lying face down in the shallows. He waded in and retrieved the body, realising it must be the missing earl of Egremont by the fine cloak the dead man was wearing and the purse at his waist. Many would have pocketed the spoils and set the body adrift again but it is a measure of the esteem in which the St. John brothers are held that the serf carried the earl back to his own hovel and from there sent word to Egremont.
Piers had only just arrived back after a full day spent riding the banks of the river when the lad arrived with the news but he set off at once.
I wait on the battlements, my eyes fixed on the horizon. It is late on the eighth day when I sight the dejected party returning home and know at once that the dead man is my beloved Ralf. No other explanation will account for the eerie silence which has fallen over our keep, the air of abject misery which pervades every corner. Voices are hushed, heads lowered as all scurry about their duties. I watch for hours as the cortege grows nearer, until at last I can make out the lifeless form of my husband laid across the back of the
horse led by his brother.
The procession approaches in silence, the only sound as they cross the drawbridge the rhythmic clatter of hooves. I sink to my knees, blinded by my tears as Piers orders his brother’s body to be taken to the tiny chapel where he will lie until his funeral.
He is there still, attended by his guards and his brother. Their vigil is constant. I too kneel and weep beside the remains of the first man I loved, whilst the second stands in harsh, condemning silence at my side.
Piers has uttered hardly a word to me since he bore his brother home. He has not given any indication in word or deed that he holds me to blame but he has no need to. I know Ralf died for me, because of me. Piers must hate me but not nearly so much as I loathe myself.
I cannot forget his words to me that day so long ago, after I attacked Ralf with my knife. Piers told me then that if I had killed his brother I would hang. Now, his brother has indeed lost his life because of me, yet I retain my miserable existence. It can only be because of my pregnancy, the fact I carry a child, a child which might be Ralf’s, that I am allowed to remain here.
* * *
The funeral is to take place tomorrow. As his brother’s heir Piers now bears the title earl of Egremont, though he seems reluctant to accept that fact. Even so, I have vacated the earl’s bedchamber and once again taken up residence in the rooms once occupied by Ralf and Piers’ sister. She and her husband are due to arrive in the morning so I may be required to find somewhere else to sleep.
For this night I am once more wakeful, lying on my bed staring into the darkness. Thoughts rampage around my head, vile, miserable images of a future I dare not even contemplate. I was a countess, now I am a widow. My child is a St. John but I know little enough of the laws governing inheritance so have no idea if he or she will have any claim to a title now that the man recognised as their father is dead. I am quite certain I do not and even if I am not held directly responsible for the demise of the late earl, my position here is at the least ambiguous. It would be better for all if I were to go.
If only I did not love this place so. And its current earl.
Without thinking, I leave my bed and slip into the chilly corridor outside my room. The earl’s chambers are on the other side of the castle but I meet no one as I make my way there. I am not even sure Piers will be in his apartment; he might well be maintaining a final vigil in the chapel. If that be the case I resolve to wait for him.
I enter the solar and cross to the door of the master bedchamber. I knock and wait.
Piers’ voice bids me enter. He is here then. I open the door and step inside, closing it quietly behind me. I stand still, my head bowed as I await his invitation to approach him.
“Linnet? I had expected Audric.”
The captain of our guard is in all probability stationed in the chapel. “I hoped to speak with you for a few moments. I will summon Audric when I leave, if that would please you.”
“It is of no matter.” He turns to face the window even though it is pitch back outside and continues to address me without so much as a glance over his shoulder. “You are correct, we do need to discuss how things are to be managed between us from now on but I had thought to leave this until after the funeral. What can I do for you this night, my lady? What is it that cannot wait until I have buried my brother?” His tone is distant, cold but polite.
I shiver, although the room is not especially cold. I draw a deep breath, then blurt out what is on my mind, the awful truth I cannot shake. “I killed him. He died because of me. You hate me and it is no more than I deserve. I hate myself. If you wish it, I will leave Egremont.”
He turns to face me again, his brow furrowing. “Are you quite deranged, Linnet? We have been through this already. You are not responsible for Ralf’s death. If anyone is to blame, it is I.”
I shake my head, any shreds of hope for my future extinguished the day they carried Ralf home slung across the back of his mount. I gaze at Piers, his image shimmering through a film of tears. I approach to stand right in front of him, my face tilted up to hold his tortured gaze.
“He is gone. I loved him, I love him still. We loved him. How can we go on without him? How can we live now? How is that possible?”
He looks at me, silent, his expression grim. He lowers his head and I see my tears mirrored in his eyes. I hear his breathing, slow, steady, deliberate, as though he is fighting to retain control. I reach for him, place my hand on his arm.
“My lord, please, I need you. I need you to… to…” I have no notion how to conclude. I have no real right to demand anything of this man.
“What do you need from me, little maid?”
“You are all I have left of him. You and this babe. We both need you.”
“You may think that now, perhaps but I am not sure I will be enough. It was Ralf for you, always Ralf. You loved him, I know that. He was at the heart of… of… us.”
I shake my head, confused. “No, sir, that was not so. At least, it has not been, not for a long time. It may have started that way but…”
“But what? Do not fret, Linnet. You were a countess and you will be again if that is what you are afraid of.”
“I do not understand.”
He places his palms on my swollen abdomen. “This child you carry, it may be mine though I pray it is not. I pray the babe is Ralf’s, that he has left something of himself with us. Either way though, if the child be a boy, he will be the earl of Egremont and you will be the countess, mother to the earl.”
“But, the title is yours now. You will have other children, legitimate heirs.”
“I have an heir. You and I both know this.” He pauses, then meets my perplexed gaze again. “I intend to relinquish the title in favour of your child. Our child, Ralf’s son, or mine.”
“But, why would you do that? You do not have to.”
“Perhaps that is why. Or perhaps because it is right for Egremont. Our earldom will better thrive without the squabbles which would ensue if Ralf’s child is set aside. And I would not wish to do that. How could I? He was my brother. He was me. In answer to your earlier question, I have no idea how I will continue on through this life alone, just half the man I was born to be but know this Linnet—I intend to try.”
I can think of nothing to say, no words to express the depth of my grief for the man we have both lost, nor my admiration for the man before me.
“You are my wife,” he lays his hand over his heart, “in here, little maid, in here where it matters most. However, you will be perceived by all to be my brother’s widow unless you and I marry, so we shall do that in order that all will know and our children will be secure. In time, perhaps, you will come to love me as you did Ralf and as I have always loved you.”
“Always? I did not know. I thought—”
“There was a moment—a moment when I knew.” He ignores my startled gasp and continues. “It was when Ralf and I were carrying you from the countess’ chamber at Wellesworth. You were so scared, clinging to Ralf as though your very life depended on it. Perhaps it did, almost. You clung to him but I was there too. I told you I would catch you if you fell and you believed me. You trusted me. I loved you from that moment and I have adored you for every moment which has passed since.”
“I love you too.”
“You do not have to say it, little maid, because it is not true. You are mine though and that is enough for now. I will do all I can to earn your love.”
I shake my head. “No, you have it. You do, truly.”
He quirks his lip in a parody of a smile. “You were always so sweet, so tender. So eager to please. It is one of your finest qualities.”
“Then, you forgive me?”
“Forgive you? What is to forgive?”
“Ralf’s death.”
He takes my face between his palms and squeezes. “Listen to me and hear my words. I may adore you but if I have no option but to spank this truth into you, I will do so. Both Ralf
and I leapt into the river to save you. We risked our lives but knowing the danger we did it anyway. Gladly. We might all of us have died that day—you, me, Ralf, and our baby. But you and I were spared, our baby too, thank God. The almighty took Ralf from us and I will grieve for my brother until the day I die. He sacrificed his life to save you and he did so willingly, out of love. But be under no illusion, Linnet, I would have done the same and just as gladly. I will not squander his sacrifice now, nor will I allow it to dictate the course of our lives from this day. By God’s mercy you and I were spared and Ralf would wish us to be happy. Together.”
He releases me and strides away, dragging his fingers through his tousled blond locks. “Do you recall, little maid, the day I spoke to you, alone? Before our wedding? I told you then that Ralf and I were a pair, indivisible. Then you came into our lives and somehow, we were three. By the grace of God we are now two again and we have no choice but to accept that truth. You said I am all you have but Linnet, without my brother you are all I have too. I am bound to you now as securely I was to Ralf. You are all I need. You and our child.”
“You need me? Want me?”
He returns to stand in front of me. “I do. We will bury our beloved Ralf on the morrow and we will both weep at his graveside. We will grieve for him until the day we are finally reunited. We will remember him too and celebrate the love we all shared. But you and I will face tomorrow together and all our tomorrows after that.”
I reach up to caress his cheek. “I do love you, my lord. I cannot point to a moment but I know that I do and I will spend all my tomorrows proving it to you.”
He smiles, the first time he has done so since that last afternoon we were all three together. He lowers his face to mine, brushes his lips across my brow, then hugs me to him. “I look forward to that, little maid.”
