by Julia Latham
She saw Margery walking toward her and she waved with relief, making room for her on the wooden bench.
Instead of her cheerful self, Margery looked pensive as she stared out across the courtyard at the men and boys honing their skills. Sarah waited patiently, knowing her friend would eventually say what was on her mind.
“Did you hear the news?” Margery said at last.
Sarah stiffened. “What news?”
“Sir Robert and Sir Walter are here investigatin’ Lord Drayton’s death. They’re sayin’ ’twas murder.”
Sarah closed her eyes. How had the word spread so quickly?
“People are already whisperin’,” Margery continued, her voice tired and flat. “Just look at them, Sarah.”
Margery was right. Usually the castle servants walked confidently through the courtyard, going about their business, calling the occasional greeting, or stopping to speak to a friend. But now everyone seemed to be scurrying from group to group, from the dairy shed to the stables to the soldiers’ barracks, heads bent together whispering, even as they glanced over their shoulders.
How had this happened?
And then she remembered the way Master Frobisher and Sir Daniel had looked at her after dinner, when she’d been leading Francis to the chaplain. They’d been in discussion with Robert and Sir Walter. Had Robert told them of his mission? Perhaps Master Frobisher had feared how she would take the news, worried about how she would tell Francis such a terrible thing.
And as for the news remaining a secret, Sir Daniel was discreet with the Drayton finances, but little else.
Margery was watching her thoughtfully. “Ye don’t seem very surprised.”
Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “I already knew. I found out this morn, when Sir Robert asked for my help in his investigation.”
Margery whistled softly between her teeth. “Bold of him. Wonder why he picked you?”
“He says ’tis because I know everyone in the household.”
“And ye think that’s the case?”
Sarah frowned at her friend. “What do you mean? I do know everyone, and he does not.”
“But…he’s shown an interest in you, Sarah.”
“But ’tis playacting, a way for us to be together without drawing too much suspicion on me as I help him. He doesn’t want me in danger.”
Margery looked unconvinced.
“You cannot tell anyone,” Sarah said, looking about for fear of someone overhearing them.
“But why are ye doin’ this, Sarah?” Margery asked softly, worry in her blue eyes.
Sarah looked away, trying to watch Francis as he rolled around in the dirt. But at last she looked down at her clenched hands. “You know why,” she said in a low voice. “I suspected the truth, and I did nothing.”
“Sarah, stop this! ’Twas nothin’ you could do. Ye’re a vulnerable woman, with no family to support you. His lordship was too ill by the time ye realized the truth. No one would have listened, and ye might have lost everythin’, and perhaps been killed!”
“Instead Lord Drayton lost everything.” Sarah closed her eyes, fighting tears.
“He was goin’ to die anyway by then.”
Sarah straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. “This is my chance, Margery.”
The seamstress stared at her in confusion. “Your chance for what?”
“To make things right! If I help find the murderer, then at least I can look Francis in the eye. I can’t bring back his father, but I can help Lord Drayton rest in peace.”
Pressing her lips together, Margery nodded. “I understand,” she murmured.
Still, there was worry and fear in her eyes when she looked at Sarah.
Sarah ignored it to say, “Will you help me?”
“What can I do that you cannot?”
“When I need you, will you stay with Francis? I am not sure yet how often Sir Robert will need my assistance.”
“Of course I will stay with the little one. The women in the sewin’ room can do without me.”
“Only because you’ve trained them well,” Sarah said, trying to smile.
Margery shrugged and looked down.
“Now you’re blushing. I never thought to see such a thing. All it took was one little compliment.”
They exchanged smiles, then looked back at the boys, who were covered in dirt and laughing at each other.
Sarah sighed and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “I wrote to Sir Anthony while Francis finished his studies after dinner. As guardian—and Lord Drayton’s cousin—he needs to know about the investigation.”
“’Twill be sad for him to hear that his cousin was murdered. Do ye think he’ll come?”
“Aye, right away. He’s a conscientious man.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, until at last Margery took a deep breath and turned a grin on Sarah. “I saw Sir Simon talkin’ to you.”
“Oh. Aye.” Sarah felt her face heat.
Margery rolled her eyes. “So what did he say?”
“He asked me to go walking to the village with him on the morrow.”
“Finally! The man has been lingerin’ near ye so long I thought he’d never work up the courage.”
“‘Work up the courage’? How can that be, Margery? We’re talking about me, for goodness’ sake.”
Margery gave a disgusted snort. “Ye’re a pretty woman, Sarah. Men think so, even if yer husband was too daft—God rest his soul,” she added.
At the same time, they both noticed Robert walking toward them. He’d taken off his armor and wore the sleeveless leather jerkin over his breeches. The sun shone off his dark, wavy hair, and even off of his white teeth. Sarah wasn’t too bedazzled to notice that she wasn’t the only woman watching him stride across the courtyard.
He stopped in front of them, and they both had to lean back on the bench to see his face.
He grinned and pointed at the wilting ribbon still holding a torn handkerchief to his solid upper arm. “Am I permitted to remove this now without offending his young lordship?”
Margery covered her mouth, smirking, while Sarah swallowed and rose to her feet.
“I think Francis would understand,” she said.
He held out his arm to her and grinned.
“Showing off your fine form?” she said without thinking, then gasped and covered her mouth.
He threw back his head and laughed, causing many heads to turn toward them. If he saw that people frowned with worry, he didn’t show any concern. Perhaps he was glad to have his mission out in the open now.
With a hearty sigh, she pulled at the bow, now damp with his perspiration. The handkerchief was stuck to the wound.
“Wait a moment,” she said, fetching a dipper of water from the bucket used to quench the thirst of exhausted boys. Carefully, she poured it onto the handkerchief and was able to pull it away without disturbing the scab.
“That’s quite a talent,” Robert said.
“I take off bandages at least every other day.”
He grinned. “Do you cut yourself so often?”
Margery guffawed even as she rose to her feet. “We have not met, Sir Robert. I am Margery, mistress of the sewin’ chamber.”
He took her hand and bowed over it as if she were a lady born. “Mistress Margery of the sewing chamber, I am pleased to meet you.”
Robert could make even Margery blush, Sarah thought.
“I have seen you and Mistress Sarah conversing,” Robert continued. “’Tis good to have true friendship.”
“I can see ye like to study people,” Margery said, “but then I imagine ye need such skills.”
He only quirked a dark eyebrow.
“The news of your investigation is now well known, sir.” Margery studied him for a moment. “But perhaps ye knew that would happen.”
Sarah inhaled with surprise.
“Aye, I guessed,” Robert admitted, wearing a half smile.
“’Twas deliberate?”
Sarah demanded.
He nodded, but he glanced briefly at Margery then back to her, as if to alert her that he would not go too far discussing his private mission in front of others. She thought about his purpose in revealing himself to everyone, and realized that perhaps in some ways it would make his work easier, for everyone would know up front what he was after.
Yet it might also make it easier for the true murderer to prepare himself—or even flee—although an unexplained absence would be very noticeable.
“Ye’re a crafty man,” Margery said.
He put a hand to his chest and bowed. “I’m very susceptible to flattery, mistress.”
Both women rolled their eyes in unison.
Margery looked from Robert to Sarah. “Well, I need to return to me duties. Sarah, let me know when ye need my assistance.” She nodded to the tall knight. “Good day to you, Sir Robert.”
When she’d gone, Robert asked, “Assistance?”
“When I am helping you, she will watch Francis for me.”
“’Tis smart to prepare for any circumstance.”
“I don’t know that I’m prepared,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “After all, you gave me cause to believe that your investigation would be conducted in secret. You asked me not to talk about it.”
“Nay, your part is a secret. I made no claim about anything else.”
“My mistake,” she said with faint sarcasm.
“All you have to do is ask me, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Hmm.”
He stood at her side, watching Francis take a deep, slurping drink when a dipper of water was passed around.
“Why did you comment on my friendship with Margery?” she abruptly asked.
He glanced down at her with amusement. “I was simply stating something I’d noticed.”
“Why notice friendship?”
His smile grew faint as he continued to watch the little boys tease one another with a toss of water, then shriek with merriment. Francis stood on the fringes, not really participating, but smiling with enjoyment.
“I wasn’t as fortunate as young Lord Drayton to have many friends.”
Putting her hands on her hips, she peered at him. “You said you were from London. Surely there were thousands of young boys in such a city.”
“There were.” He shaded his eyes with his hand, then called, “Lord Drayton, shall we practice riding?”
When Francis ran toward him with enthusiasm, Robert nodded to Sarah and left her.
She stood still, contemplating what he’d revealed, and not understanding what it could mean. How could a charming, handsome man not have plenty of friends?
Chapter 7
At supper, Sarah watched how everything had changed. People she respected as friends and fellow servants now looked at each other with sadness and suspicion, and even some disbelief. Instead of laughter and chatter through the meal, people whispered softly to their neighbors.
Francis stared about him in confusion, no doubt sensing the undercurrent of uncertainty. What was she supposed to say to him? Your father was murdered and we don’t know the identity of the killer. That would set his recovery back by weeks if not months.
So after she finished her own meal, she walked among the tables, smiling and asking her usual questions about one person’s mild fever, or another’s broken bone. Talking about their ailments distracted people, and finally, they began to question her about Robert. More than once she reassured people, claiming that he seemed to be a good man who only wanted the truth. Didn’t they all want that? Some expressed fears that a guilty party would be named simply to have it over with, but Sarah didn’t believe so, and was firm in stating that. Last, she asked that Francis’s youth and vulnerability be considered, and that people refrain from discussing the tragedy in front of him or other children.
She moved from table to table repeating basically the same discussion until she was satisfied that she’d done her best to protect Francis and encourage the household.
Every so often she glanced at the head table to assure herself of the welfare of her charge. More than once she found Robert contemplating her, wearing a small smile.
The tables were eventually cleared of food. Games of chess, Tables, and dice began, while the occasional musician strummed a lute to someone else’s accompaniment on the pipe. Sarah found herself alone with Robert near the hearth. No one else approached them, and she sighed, knowing this would be her lot for the time being. The people of Drayton seemed satisfied that she would keep their unwelcome guest occupied.
“So now they all know,” Sarah said, allowing her resignation to show.
“’Twas necessary.”
He watched them all just as she did, hands linked behind his back. This evening he wore an emerald green doublet over black hose, all his garments of fine quality. ’Twas obvious now to everyone that he came from the king’s court, and there was respect in that.
“All shall be wary as they answer your questions,” she said.
“Aye.”
“Perhaps the murderer might lie.”
He glanced down at her. “And the murderer wouldn’t have lied about his deeds otherwise?”
“Oh, well, I guess he already is.”
“And why do you assume ’tis a ‘he’?”
A cold feeling of disbelief swept through her. “I…I had not thought otherwise.”
“Never assume, Sarah,” he said, his gaze once again sweeping the uneasy crowd. “Assumptions make for an incomplete investigation.”
A faint frown passed over his usually pleasant expression, and was gone so quickly, she wondered if she’d truly seen it. She did not question him, for he would only reveal in bits and pieces what he wanted known.
She took a breath and boldly asked, “Is this not difficult for you, having people fear you?”
“I am pursuing the truth. If a person is innocent, he or she should have no reason to fear me.”
“Yet people can be irrational in their fear.”
“If you say so. This situation has never happened to me before.”
She snapped her head up to stare at him. “But you said you’ve had other assignments from the king.”
“They were all work I performed in secret, under other identities.”
He smiled down at her, but she thought there were shadows in his eyes. He was used to keeping secrets. It must be a difficult way to live.
“I cannot imagine so exciting a life,” she said.
“Sometimes ’tis merely tedious.”
“And dangerous?”
He chuckled. “Sometimes.”
“No wonder you train so hard on the tiltyard.”
“So you have studied me?”
A hot blush swept over her face. “I have spent my life near men. I do not have to watch for long to know who merely goes through the motions.”
“You mean like Sir Simon,” he said, nodding in understanding.
She gasped. “I never—”
“I was only teasing,” he interrupted, once again laughing at her. “Sir Simon is an excellent horseman and a skilled warrior. I might have to challenge him soon.”
She narrowed her eyes.
He raised both hands. “As a sparring partner, of course.”
Shaking her head, she looked away from him. She smiled at Margery, who’d glanced at her while speaking to one of the knights. Kind Margery was always so concerned for her welfare. The seamstress didn’t realize that Sarah once had to do much to survive on her own. It wasn’t something she often discussed, even with a dear friend.
“I watched you walk among your people,” he said in a quieter voice.
She eyed him, waiting.
“What did you discuss?” he asked. “They seemed much calmer afterward, as if you were a gifted groom with a skittish horse.”
She released her breath on a sigh. “They are concerned about being treated fairly by you.”
He cocked his head, the smile never leaving
his face as he waited.
“I reassured them. But my main concern was and always is Francis. I have decided not to tell him of your investigation for now. I asked that everyone not discuss it with their children, who are too vulnerable to a feeling of fear. Does this meet with your approval?”
“You are the little lord’s nursemaid. I bow to your wisdom.”
“Thank you. He seems to like your company, and I don’t wish to tarnish that just yet.”
“But you will when you feel ’tis necessary?”
He was watching her too closely now.
“Only if I must. But he doesn’t need to know at so tender an age that someone has taken his father away from him on a cruel whim.”
He gave a solemn nod. “I understand.”
They stood silently for a short period of time until she found herself thinking too much about this stranger who had taken over her life. “What do you have planned for the morrow?” she asked, breaking the uneasy silence.
Uneasy silence on her part. Robert seemed content to watch people, as if even their simple pastimes interested him.
“I will still train early in the morn, to give you a chance to watch me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do not do so for my benefit,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “But later I would like a tour of the castle, especially the viscount’s chambers.”
She nodded. “What time shall I tell Master Frobisher?”
“I should like you to give me the tour.”
“I see,” she said, blinking in disbelief. And then she remembered her planned walk with Sir Simon. At least she would have the early morn to accompany him.
“Will that be difficult for you?” he asked.
He was watching her again. She wanted to shout at him to stop it, but how could she?
She forced herself to relax. “Nay, no problem at all.” She hesitated, then rushed through her next words. “I sent a missive to Sir Anthony Ramsey, Francis’s guardian, letting him know about the investigation.”
“That’s fine.”
“He was Lord Drayton’s cousin and I believe he deserves—” She broke off. “You do not mind?”
“Nay, you did what was necessary. Were not the two men also good friends?”
She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “They played chess any evening they were together. They even accompanied each other on journeys. Sir Anthony was devastated by his cousin’s death, and when he hears it was murder—he will want justice served.”
