by Julia Latham
Chapman glanced briefly at him as he munched on a piece of dried apple, then glanced again as he took a drink of ale from his horn. His look was speculative, with just a tinge of hostility. Was the man feeling proprietary toward Sarah?
Robert smiled. “So you are almost as new to the household as I am.”
Chapman frowned, as if trying to see a hidden meaning behind Robert’s words. “My liege lord, Sir Anthony Ramsey, has been connected to this household his entire life.”
“But before he became guardian to the new young lord, he remained at his own home, and you must have as well.”
“Aye,” Chapman said, nodding.
“But you visited often?”
Another nod. But the knight didn’t offer anything voluntarily.
“’Tis nearby?”
“Less than half a day’s journey.”
“Then we should see Sir Anthony soon.”
“You have written to request his presence?”
“Mistress Sarah wrote to tell him the truth of Drayton’s death.”
“Then aye, he will come. He and his lordship were close, and this will strengthen his grief.”
Robert nodded, popping several berries into his mouth. “Why did you remain behind after he became the young lord’s guardian?”
Chapman gave him a look as if it should be perfectly obvious. “Sir Anthony requested that several of his knights remain here to watch over the new viscount. He feels his duty deeply.”
“But Drayton has its own contingent of knights and soldiers.”
“Nevertheless, the young lord is Sir Anthony’s responsibility.”
As was all the wealth that came with the viscountcy, Robert thought. The elder lord’s death had given Sir Anthony control over a sizable estate. Very convenient for Sir Anthony.
“You’ve been here several weeks then, since Drayton’s death?” he continued. “I imagine it has been rather uneventful.”
“Nay, Sarah makes sure my time is pleasantly spent.”
Robert grinned, but Chapman did not even smile back.
“So your duty became so routine that you began to look for other entertainment,” he mused. “The young lord’s nursemaid must have proved a challenge.”
Chapman’s face darkened. “I do not take your meaning.”
“She is in charge of the household, is she not? Becoming friendly with her will give you another way to keep track of your lord’s ward.”
“I would never use a woman to make my duty simpler,” he said. His voice didn’t sound desperate or outraged, only certain of the truth. “Or perhaps you believe that using a woman in such a way is justified.”
An impressive strike, Robert thought, holding back an admiring nod. He wondered if Chapman thought Sarah had been used by the late Lord Drayton. Or since he was so recent an arrival, perhaps he didn’t even know she’d been considered the man’s mistress. “A woman has never had to accuse me of using her,” he said, smiling. “Mistress Sarah wants justice for her lord’s memory. Surely you want justice in this situation, too.”
“I do,” he said gravely, “and so will Sir Anthony.”
There was a stirring behind them, and they both turned to see the huntsman emerging through the trees to approach Master Frobisher. They spoke and gestured to each other.
“He’s found a quarry worth pursuing, do you think?” Robert asked.
Master Frobisher suddenly blew a short series of notes on his hunting horn, alerting the dogs and their handlers who waited out in the forest to begin the chase.
Robert said, “It seems the hunt is on.”
Chapman headed for his horse, leaving him to loosen his bow from his saddle as he mounted Dragon. He wondered what Chapman would report to Sir Anthony when the man arrived. Sir Anthony should know that he, too, would be considered a suspect, along with everyone else.
Was Robert believing his own stories now?
Sarah told herself it was another beautiful afternoon, with the sun shining through the mullioned windows to highlight Francis’s curls. His head was bent over a small lute as a local minstrel gave him his music lesson.
Where was the rain? How could so many days be lovely when a cloud of grief and suspicion hung over Drayton Hall?
She looked at the sewing resting in her lap, realizing she’d hardly paid attention to it. Several embroidered stitches had to be plucked out so she could start again. She was making a new shirt for Francis. Since he’d begun to eat again, already he seemed to be growing.
Thanks to Robert, she supposed. In just a few days, he’d already had an influence on the boy.
Of course, he’d had an influence on her, too. He’d told her the truth of her life, when no one else had.
“Mistress Sarah!” Francis suddenly called.
She jumped in surprise, since she was practically next to him. “Aye, Francis?”
“Did you hear—I know a song!”
“Your effort has made all the difference. Congratulations.”
“Will you sing it while I play?”
The minstrel was an older, balding man with a face weathered by much time spent traveling out of doors. He gave her a gap-toothed grin and arched an eyebrow as if daring her.
She sighed even as she smiled. “Of course I’ll sing.”
Francis strummed the lute, and in time with him she slowly sang the song about a lowly girl at court and the king who fell in love with her. It all ended well for that girl, she thought, then berated herself for her pessimism.
Someone clapped enthusiastically when they were done, and she turned to find Margery approaching them. The woman smiled at Francis, who grinned back before moving on to the next part of his lesson.
When Margery would have sat down, Sarah jumped up and said, “We don’t wish to interrupt your lesson, Francis.”
She took her friend’s arm and guided her closer to the hearth, away from the sunny windows. With a sigh, she sank onto a cushioned chair.
“’Twas a lovely song,” Margery said, sitting down beside her. Her black hair peeked out in wispy strands from beneath her cap. “’Tis a shame ye spoiled it by forcin’ yourself to sound bright and happy.”
Sarah rubbed her face with both hands, then dropped them into her lap. “Francis does not need to know what is truly happening in his home.”
“Aye, ’tis true, of course. But…ye look worse since I last saw you, and I know ye spent time alone with Sir Robert.” She peered closely at Sarah’s face. “Did somethin’ bad happen?”
Sarah shrugged. “Apparently it happened a long time ago and I never knew about it.”
“Ye best be explainin’ that one.”
She faced Margery to study her expression. “Everyone thinks I was Lord Drayton’s mistress.”
The seamstress relaxed. “Oh, aye, there is that.”
Sarah stiffened. “You knew! And you believed it?”
“Well, nay, I never did, but when ye talk about somethin’, even to deny it, it makes the gossip worse. So I kept silent.”
“But you could have told me!”
Margery put her hand on Sarah’s arm. “Dearie, I knew ye’d only be hurt. And no one thought the worse of you for it. In fact, some thought that since his lordship trusted you, they should, too.”
“But—’twas all a lie!”
“How did ye find out?” she asked, her eyes brimming with sympathy.
Sarah sank back into the chair and murmured, “Robert told me.”
“Well, he found out quick, now didn’t he?”
“I know why he told me, too. I’m a suspect in his eyes, Margery. He didn’t say so, but I know it.”
“You?” Margery chuckled. “Ye must be teasin’ me!”
But Sarah didn’t laugh, and gradually her friend’s smile faded.
“But Sarah, we’re all suspects, are we not? You the same as me.”
“But don’t you see, Robert thought I was Lord Drayton’s mistress, which meant I would be closest to him of all at the castle. Closeness impli
es that I’d have even more reason to kill him, should we have had problems.”
“By that logic, Francis is the guilty party,” Margery scoffed. “But ye told him ye weren’t a woman like that, did ye not?”
“Oh, I told him, but why should he believe me?”
“Then I’ll tell him!”
“Why should he believe you?” she asked patiently. “You’re my friend. And you do realize, that even if he believes my story, I’ve just presented him with even more motives in the murder. Since everyone thought I was his mistress, perhaps I wanted to be, and killed him when he wouldn’t have me.”
Margery stared at her openmouthed. Sarah only raised her eyebrows.
At last the seamstress said, “Ye’re too educated for yer own good, Sarah.”
That finally made Sarah smile. “I ought to be. I worked hard enough at it.”
“I can’t solve yer problems, dearie. I can only say that ye know ye’re innocent. The truth will out itself eventually, since that Sir Robert seems a smart fellow. I been watchin’ him. He can’t believe ye’re guilty.”
“Why would you think that?” she asked doubtfully.
But Margery was already onto the next thought. “Now that other fellow, Sir Walter, him I don’t know about. Perhaps there’s never been a person born he can trust.”
Though Sarah smiled, she did not forget what they’d been discussing. “You cannot believe that the flirtatious looks Robert is giving me are because he thinks I’m innocent.”
“Well—”
“He told me himself that flirtation is part of his method.” And then in her mind she was back in her bedchamber, alone with him. No one there but the two of them, and he’d looked at her like…She shivered.
Margery took her hand and squeezed. “Take heart, dearie. Ye’re an innocent woman—and ye haven’t even been wrongfully accused. Someone else did this foul deed, and Sir Robert will ferret him out.”
“You place a lot of trust in a stranger,” Sarah warned. “But aye, you’re right. I cannot act like I’m waiting for the worst to happen. I’ll live up to my offer to help him find this murderer.”
“That’s my girl! And ye’ll not turn away a man’s interest, wherever you find it?”
Sarah frowned.
“Because ye need cheerin’ up as much as the next girl.”
At least that made her laugh.
Chapter 11
When the men arrived home from their hunt, just before supper, the great hall was filled with their deep voices and laughter. Sarah watched Francis’s excitement as he took it all in, and she was glad for him. The castle had been too quiet since his father’s death. He moved from man to man, listening to their conversations. Somehow he still ended up at Robert’s side.
Robert was talking and smiling, but he looked down at the boy and put a hand on his shoulder with affection. Sarah felt a jolt of sweet sadness. She prayed that Francis wouldn’t somehow be hurt in the end, that his new hero would prove worthy of such a title.
Then Simon came to her, smelling of the fresh outdoors, taking both her hands as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. She found herself blushing, not certain if she was pleased or embarrassed at such a display. But Simon seemed so happy to see her that she could not be upset with him.
When all had sat down to supper, one of the knights in the garrison, seated at a lower table, called out, “Master Frobisher, did you see the way Sir Robert took down his deer?”
Sarah watched Robert’s easy smile. She’d known that several deer had been brought to Cook, but she hadn’t known the identities of the marksmen.
Master Frobisher shook his head. “Did the lad perform some great feat of skill?”
There were guffaws all around, and Sarah marveled at the new ease among the men regarding Robert. He seemed to have a gift for knowing how to make people like him.
“’Twas indeed quite skillful,” Simon said.
Sarah almost gaped at him.
Robert laughed. “You all do give me too much credit. I simply wanted to eat.”
Sir Daniel waved a hand. “Nonsense. I saw you. Once the deer was sighted, you galloped without a hand on the reins, your bow and arrow taut and ready.”
“That is not unusual,” Robert said as if they were all exaggerating.
The young knight picked up the story. “And then when he’d spotted our quarry and couldn’t line up the sight, he leaned to the side as if he were going to tumble from the saddle. ’Twas like magic, the way he held on with his legs and let his arrow go.”
“Shot dead in the heart,” Sir Daniel said, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “I have never seen anything like it.”
The hall continued to buzz with admiration, and although Robert smiled, he did not add to it, only continued to eat. Sarah could not help noticing that he did not look at his partner. Sir Walter’s expression was as impassive as always. Did he disapprove? she wondered. And why should he?
At last the enthusiasm died down as the attention of the famished hunters returned to their meals. Robert was speaking to Sir Daniel on his far side. Sarah could not hear much of their discussion, but at last, Robert looked at her over Francis’s curly head.
“Mistress Sarah, Sir Daniel and I need some privacy to speak. Will you accompany us?”
There was something he wasn’t saying.
She had promised to help, but she hardly needed a reminder. Her curiosity was enough to allow her to nod.
As benches and chairs were pushed back to allow the servants to clear everything away, she was surprised when Sir Daniel took her arm and laughed as if she’d just said something funny.
Wearing a false smile, she allowed him to lead her across the hall toward a corridor deeper into the castle. Robert followed behind, leaning close as if speaking. Both men burst out laughing again.
She remained silent after their little performance, and they followed her example. She wasn’t certain where they were going, but she was surprised when they left the main keep, walking the corridor that ran beneath the guest lodgings. Robert lifted a candle from a table, lit it from a torch on the wall, then led them up the stairs to his own quarters.
Sir Daniel shut the door behind them and slumped against it with weariness. “Thank you, mistress,” he said, heaving a sigh.
“I did nothing but follow along,” she said dryly. “May I ask why I was necessary? I’m certain the two of you could have laughed at nothing without me.”
Robert crossed his arms over his chest and half sat against the edge of the table. “Sir Daniel seemed to feel that being seen talking to me might implicate him as a suspect.”
Sarah calmly looked at the treasurer. “We are all suspects, are we not?”
“But I perform a vital duty for the Drayton estates,” Sir Daniel insisted, thrusting his bearded chin forward defiantly. “Money is always a powerful incentive for murder.”
“I cannot deny that,” Robert mused.
Sir Daniel’s eyes widened. “But I vow that I’ve given no cause for mistrust!”
“Glad I am to hear it.”
“I am simply reluctant to show you the private ledgers without Sir Anthony’s approval. But…” the treasurer’s voice faded away, then he seemed to make up his mind. “I would obey the king’s man. I simply need proof of your mission.”
Sarah inhaled sharply. It was not her place to know what proof Robert had shown the steward—if he’d even been asked to produce any at all. When Robert smiled, Sir Daniel’s tension seemed to ease.
“You are a cautious man,” Robert said. “I do not fault that, especially for someone in your position of authority. I shall return in a moment.”
He continued up the circular stairs to the second floor. Sir Daniel didn’t seem to know where to look, but at last he met Sarah’s gaze.
“Do you think me a fool, mistress?”
“Nay, I do not. And I also do not believe that Sir Robert will hold your caution against you. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear.”
> Robert came down the stairs, unrolling a parchment, and handed it to Sir Daniel. Sarah glimpsed the king’s seal, although she could not read the decree. Then Robert opened his hand, and in his palm rested a gold ring, precious stones outlining an H for Henry.
Sir Daniel released his breath and nodded. “My thanks for your trust in me, sir.”
“Now will you return the same courtesy to me and answer my questions?”
The treasurer nodded.
“I need to know if there were any irregularities in the ledgers in the months before the viscount’s death—unexplained entries not in your own hand, or missing money.”
“Nothing like that, Sir Robert! Lord Drayton was meticulous with his expenses, and expected everyone else to be, whether it was his cook or a bailiff from one of his properties.”
“I’d like to see for myself.”
Sir Daniel nodded and once again led the way, this time back to the lord’s solar. From a coffer, he removed a heavy bound book and spread it across the table. For long minutes, both men poured over it. Robert examined several pages of entries, so quickly she did not think a man could possibly absorb it all. But she sensed that he knew exactly what he was looking at, and how everything should be ordered.
What kind of man was he? At four and twenty, he had the trust of the king, had completed other assignments for him, rode a horse as if he were one with the animal, and now understood the finances of a large estate?
Robert finally straightened, and Sir Daniel looked up at him. Although the treasurer seemed uneasy, he did not look panicked or guilty, Sarah thought.
“Excellent records, Sir Daniel,” Robert said.
“Then you know of which you speak,” Sir Daniel said wryly. “You have my thanks.”
“It has not been two months since Sir Anthony Ramsey became Francis’s guardian. Did he meet with you then?”
“Aye, he did. He looked everything over, just as you did. I thought him quite competent.”
“Why?” Robert asked.
Sir Daniel shot an embarrassed look at Sarah, as if he now regretted his choice of words. “Because he changed nothing, Sir Robert. He trusted me to continue as I’ve been doing, with the understanding that I send him regular reports and answer to Master Frobisher.”
