Sir Frederick hadn't believed him.
Of course, it was a lot to believe, but he had no reason to make up a story like that, nothing to gain from false accusations or lies.
Henry watched Theobold deface his prayer register with a pen from his school bag until the service ended.
Breakfast had never smelled as good as it did that morning.
The table was piled high with smoked fish and scrambled eggs, pots of jam and plates of toast, and fresh-baked scones with little mounds of sugar crystals on top.
As Henry buttered a hot scone, he thought about the Nordlands, and how the students had probably been up for hours, awaiting inspection. He thought of them eating lumpy porridge and then going off to learn combat in their secret training chamber, preparing for war, believing so strongly that their way of life was the only way--the right way--that they had to fight for other people to see it.
Henry hardly paid attention in medicine, and he practically sleepwalked from Sir Frederick's classroom to Lord Havelock's military history tower.
But he forced himself to attend to Lord Havelock's lecture, in which Lord Havelock held up crumbling artifacts like black-tipped spearheads and statuettes and spoke of what they could learn about past military conquest from archaeological digs.
Lord Havelock passed the artifacts around, and they were no more interesting up close, but Henry turned them over in his hands anyway, taking notes as he was expected to do.
Finally, Lord Havelock had them pass the artifacts up to the front of the room.
We should talk to Professor Stratford during our free hour, Henry wrote out on the bottom of his notebook and tilted the page toward Adam and Rohan.
His friends nodded.
Up at the front of the room, Lord Havelock frowned.
"I have only thirteen artifacts, what has happened to the fourteenth?" Lord Havelock asked.
Everyone shuffled through the things on their desks, but no one could find it.
"This is not a game," Lord Havelock sneered. "We will all sit here until the talisman is returned. And yes, I am aware that you will be missing your luncheon."
But five minutes later, no one had made any move to return the missing object.
"Stand up!" Lord Havelock barked. "Behind your chairs, all of you. Satchels open on your desks, jackets off, trouser pockets turned out."
Feeling foolish, Henry turned out his trouser pockets and stood behind his desk like the rest of his classmates.
"What do you think's going on?" Adam whispered.
Henry gave a tiny shrug in response.
Because the truth was, Henry half expected that Lord Havelock would find this missing object inside of his own bag. After all, there was no reason for their saboteur to suddenly stop his efforts toward getting Henry and his friends kicked out of the academy just because he hadn't struck while they were away at Partisan.
There had been so much going on with the tournament and discovering the combat training room over the past few days that Henry had nearly forgotten that he and his friends still didn't have any idea who might be out to get them--besides Lord Havelock, that was.
Lord Havelock glared inside of Theobold's bag and then came to Henry's row.
Henry held his breath as Lord Havelock rifled his satchel, which contained nothing but notebooks, pens, and embarrassingly, half a scone left over from breakfast, wrapped in a napkin.
"Saving this for a rainy day, Mr. Grim?" Lord Havelock asked with a mocking smile.
Henry's cheeks reddened.
But mercifully, Lord Havelock moved on to Adam's bag, which was stuffed full of chewed pen nibs, scraps of paper, a handful of pennies, crumbs, a tattered envelope, notebooks, pens, textbooks, and a deck of cards tied together with Frankie's blood-splattered hair ribbon from all those weeks ago.
"Nice one," Henry whispered to Adam about the hair ribbon, not caring that Lord Havelock could hear him. Adam made a face and shrugged.
Lord Havelock was stopped in front of Rohan's desk, peering into Rohan's satchel.
And then Lord Havelock's expression changed to a dangerous sneer as he removed his hand from Rohan's satchel, his long, pale fingers closed tightly into a fist.
"Mr. Mehta, would you care to explain this?" Lord Havelock asked.
"Explain what, sir?" Rohan asked, puzzled.
Lord Havelock opened his fist.
Lying in his palm was a tiny obsidian statuette, the missing artifact.
"I didn't ..., " Rohan began, "I mean ... you can't possibly think that I would ... this is absurd."
Lord Havelock stared down at Rohan, his mouth a thin, hard line, his eyes glittering treacherously. "Mr. Mehta, I think that you should come with me. The rest of you are dismissed."
"He didn't do it, sir," Henry said. "I was here the whole time; I would have seen something."
"Are you implying that you helped Mr. Mehta to steal this object?" Lord Havelock asked.
"No, he didn't," Rohan put in quickly. "Henry, Adam, go on. I'll be all right."
Henry gave Rohan what he hoped was an encouraging smile and trudged out into the hall along with Adam.
Neither of them ate anything in the dining hall that afternoon. Henry sat staring at the doorway, waiting for Rohan to walk through any moment and say that everything had been sorted, and did anyone happen to save him a roast beef and cress sandwich?
But he didn't.
Finally, with just ten minutes before they needed to leave for their next class, Henry and Adam slipped out of the dining hall and opened the door to their room.
Rohan was inside, standing over his open school trunk, eyes puffy as though he'd recently been crying.
"Well?" Henry prompted.
"I've been expelled," Rohan said tightly, tossing an untidy ball of shirts into his trunk.
"What?" Henry asked.
"But you're innocent, mate," Adam said.
"Tell that to bloody Lord Havelock," Rohan said, throwing his books into the trunk on top of the mountain of shirts. "He dragged me off to see Headmaster Winter. 'This boy was caught red-handed,' he said, 'stealing a valuable Nordlandic artifact from my lesson. He was given ample time to come forward and return the item, yet he chose to see if he could get away with it.' "
"Surely Headmaster Winter didn't believe him," Henry said.
Rohan smiled sadly. "What choice did he have? It was our head of year's word against mine. Lord Havelock was dead set that he'd caught me stealing, and without any reason for doubt, they didn't even need to gather the trustees for a vote on my expulsion."
"But anyone could have planted it in your bag," Henry said desperately.
"Lord Havelock didn't think so," Rohan said sadly. "In fact, after making me out to be a thief, he rather blamed the headmaster for all of this, because what did he expect would happen if he let commoners into the academy?"
"This is what Professor Stratford warned us about," Henry said. "That if we do anything wrong, Headmaster Winter could be fired. ... Not like you did anything wrong, though."
"Well, it's as good as if I had," Rohan said bitterly.
"You can't leave," Adam wailed, sitting down on his bed and putting his head in his hands. "Not now!"
"It's not as though I was begging to be expelled," Rohan said with an odd little laugh. "But my father might be able to convince them to take me back. Build a new library. Or how about some nice combat training rooms?"
"How come it's funny when he jokes about it?" Adam whined.
Henry swallowed, his throat tight. Rohan was expelled from the academy. He couldn't believe it.
"I don't know what we're going to do without you," Henry said quietly.
"I do," Rohan said firmly. "Find out who's behind all this. Convince someone of what you saw in the Nordlands. Fix this."
"I'll try," Henry said doubtfully. It wouldn't be the same without Rohan as the calm voice of reason by his side.
"When are you leaving?" Adam asked.
"Now," Rohan said. "On the n
ext train to Holchester. They want to keep this quiet, since I've apparently broken the Code of Chivalry and all."
Rohan smiled sadly and reached into his trunk. He took out his stack of leather-bound adventure novels and his gold pocket watch.
"Here," Rohan said, handing Adam the novels. "Take them."
"I couldn't," Adam protested.
"Please."
Adam accepted the books quietly and, with a crooked grin, gave Rohan a salute.
Rohan turned to Henry, who shook his head. "You'll be back," Henry said.
"Keep this for me until then," Rohan said, giving Henry the pocket watch. And even though they were fourteen, and far too old for anything besides a handshake, Henry gave his friend a hug good-bye.
"Aren't you going to be late for ethics?" Rohan asked.
Henry shrugged, and then pulled the watch out of his trouser pocket and checked.
"Maybe a bit," he admitted.
"Go," Rohan said.
Henry bit his lip.
Adam scuffed the toe of his boot at the floor.
"'Bye," Henry said.
"Good-bye," Rohan said, smiling bravely.
Reluctantly, Henry and Adam headed to their next lesson, just the two of them.
"Pssst! Grim!" Theobold said after the lesson. "Where's your friend?"
"Shove off, Archer," Henry said miserably. He didn't want to talk about it.
"Did he get expelled?" Theobold pressed. "Is your friend a nasty little thief ?"
Henry started forward, but Adam grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Really?" Theobold said, delighted. "You're going to fight me for that? Well, have at it, Grim. I've not got all day."
And as much as Henry wanted to, as dearly as he wanted to punch that smirk right off Theobold's face, he didn't quite dare. Because if he got expelled too ...
"I'm waiting, Grim," Theobold said, stifling a fake yawn.
"You're not worth it," Henry told him, wishing he could think of something better to say. His blood was boiling with hatred toward Theobold, who knew perfectly well that Rohan had been expelled, and probably knew just as well that Rohan was innocent of his accused offense.
Henry hated to walk away, but he needed to talk to Professor Stratford during their hour free, and he didn't want to waste his time with Theobold.
"Come on, let's go," he told Adam.
Ellen glared when they showed up at the door of the headmaster's house, but Henry was getting used to it.
"Miss Winter is having her piano lesson," the maid said severely.
"We're here to see Professor Stratford, actually," said Henry with his most winning smile.
The door slammed shut in his face.
"Frankie's rather horrible on the piano, isn't she?" Adam commented while they waited. Through the front door, Henry could hear the faint tinkle of terrible piano music. He had to agree.
The door opened.
"Professor Stratford will see you in his study," Ellen sniffed, and Henry and Adam followed her--up the main staircase this time--to the professor's study.
"Henry!" Professor Stratford cried, delighted to see his former pupil. "And Adam! Come in, come in! But where's Rohan?"
"He's been expelled," Henry said darkly, slumping into a chair.
"You can't be serious."
"Afraid so," Henry said. "Someone made it look as though he'd stolen ... well, I'm not sure what it was exactly. Some sort of good luck talisman from Lord Havelock's archaeology lesson."
Professor Stratford shook his head. "This is terrible," he said. "I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, well, so are we." Adam pouted.
"No, I mean, this is really terrible," Professor Stratford said. "It's precisely what I warned you about; Head- master Winter's competency could very well be questioned for letting common students into the school."
Henry exchanged a look with Adam.
Professor Stratford groaned. "Already?" he asked. "Someone has said something already?"
"Lord Havelock," Adam said, pulling a face.
"But that isn't even the half of what's happening," Henry said miserably.
"There's more?" Professor Stratford asked with a grimace.
Henry told the professor what he'd seen in the Nordlands--the battle training room, the weapons and lists--and how he'd nearly been caught and hadn't managed to take away any evidence.
"I told Sir Frederick," Henry said, "but he didn't believe me. He said that it was a prank, or that I was mistaken, but I know what I saw."
Professor Stratford was quiet for a long time. He chewed the corner of his mustache and drummed his fingers on the table and had a faraway look in his eyes.
"I believe you, Henry," the professor finally said. "I don't know what good it does, but I do."
"I knew you were always reading those inane gossip magazines for a reason," Henry said.
"There's truth to every rumor," Professor Stratford said, in the old way of almost quoting that made Henry nostalgic for a time in his life he thought he'd never miss.
"What should we do?" Henry asked.
"The best thing that you can do right now would be to stay out of trouble," Professor Stratford said. "And I mean it. Clearly, Rohan was set up, and whoever wanted him gone will be looking to get rid of the two of you next. Stay out of trouble, and I'll see what I can do."
It wasn't what Henry wanted to hear, but he had to admit that Professor Stratford had a point--and that, thankfully, the professor had believed him. But then, Professor Stratford didn't teach at Knightley. He was just a tutor, just a friend.
But he was all they had.
LIFE WITHOUT ROHAN
Supper that evening was horrible. The feeling that they were eating upon a stage had returned--and tripled. Everyone knew that Rohan had been expelled, and Henry and Adam put up with curious stares and whispered conversations that stopped immediately as they walked by.
"Poor Rohan," Henry said, pushing peas around on his plate.
"I know," Adam said.
"Can you imagine?" Henry asked. "I mean, really imagine being expelled from Knightley?"
The possibility had been there ever since Henry's quarter-term essay had gone missing, but it hadn't truly seemed real until that afternoon, until they'd seen Rohan standing over his trunk, packing his things to go home. And now it was all too real and all too looming--like the threat of war.
"We have to tell Frankie," Adam said, shredding a slice of bread.
Frankie caught up with them after supper.
"What's going on?" she asked. "Where's Rohan?"
"Holchester, wherever that is," Henry said.
"He's been expelled," Adam said.
"Is this true?" Frankie asked Henry.
Henry nodded. And caught sight of Frankie's grandmother marching toward them.
"What for?" Frankie asked.
"Stealing," Henry said.
"Stealing?" Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow. "Rohan?"
"I know," Henry said with a sigh. "And your grandmother's spotted us."
"Drat," Frankie said. "Come on." She ducked around the corner.
"Where are we going?" Adam asked, amused.
"Away from my blasted grandmother," Frankie said. "She had me playing piano all afternoon. Piano. Thank goodness Professor Stratford has come around and is letting me do Latin."
"Right, because Latin makes up for piano," Henry said sarcastically.
Frankie pushed open a door to the school grounds.
"We're going outside?" Adam asked.
"We can hide in Professor Stratford's study," Frankie said.
"Yeah, small problem with that," Adam said. "What if Professor Stratford is using his study?"
Frankie bit her lip. "Do you have a better idea?"
"The library?" Adam suggested.
"The librarian's still at supper," Henry reminded them.
"Common room?" Frankie asked.
"We can't talk there," Henry said, shaking his head. They might as well duck into the arm
ory. At least no one would look for them there.
The armory! Henry thought suddenly. They were down for fencing tomorrow, and the only left-handed foil in the armory had been missing at the last lesson.
"You wouldn't happen to have a private store of foils, would you?" Henry asked.
"And this is relevant how?" Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I need to borrow a left-hander's foil for tomorrow," Henry said. "Mine was missing last lesson, and I don't want to take any chances."
"Hmmm," Frankie said, biting her lip. "Well, she'd never look there. I'm certain of it. All right, onward."
Henry and Adam followed Frankie across the quadrangle and through the back door of the headmaster's house. Putting a finger to her lips in warning, Frankie led the boys down a stairwell and into the basement, which had been converted into a regulation fencing piste.
"This is brilliant," Adam said, his mouth falling open in awe.
"Well, it's for my father, not me," Frankie said sourly. "The advantage of being headmaster."
Frankie opened an impressively inlaid cabinet and took out a foil.
"We're both left-handed," Frankie said, testing the balance. "And honestly, he never uses this one, so he won't notice if it's gone."
She made sure that the tip had been blunted and handed the sword to Henry.
"Thanks," he said, trying a few passes.
"Don't mention it," Frankie said. "So what ever happened with Sir Frederick?"
"He didn't believe me," Henry said.
"What are you going to do now?"
"We told Professor Stratford," Adam said.
"Well, what did he say?"
"To let him handle it and to stay out of trouble," Henry said sourly. "As though we can control that sort of thing. I mean, it wasn't as though Rohan planned to get expelled. Trouble just seems to find us."
"If by trouble, you mean Lord Havelock, I'd agree," Frankie said.
"How do you mean?" Adam asked.
"He never took his eyes off the two of you at supper," Frankie said. "It was bizarre. I only noticed because I was seated two down from him at the High Table, but it was really strange."
"Lord Havelock's the one who found the artifact in Rohan's bag," Henry said. "He's the one who went to the headmaster about it."
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