Page 21 of Secrets of Capell Manor
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Sir Devlin and Alden had risen just as the first sliver of gray light was seen upon the eastern horizon. It had been twodays, and still, there was no sign of Edmond Capell anywhere. Devlin thought a more organized search of the Capell lands was warranted.
“We’ll look around the manor house itself and the work in circles moving outward. I want to be able to tell the king that no part of Edmond’s estate was left unchecked.”
Alden nodded, and the careful search began.
The morning air was crisp, and a wind from the north bit any exposed flesh as they rode. The sun never made an appearance, and the day remained gray and overcast.
“Alden, I want to talk to the farmer again. The one who found the horse,” Devlin said after their two-hour hunt had yielded nothing. “What was his name again?”
“Henry,” Alden replied. “He discovered Capell’s mount, and his young son returned it to the manor.”
They turned the horses southward, and Alden led the way.
When they arrived at Henry’s cottage, the man was outside trying to gather his goats and herd them into a rough lean-to shelter. He looked toward the riders as they rode closer and threw up his hand in greeting. Devlin waited as Henry rounded up the last goat and shut the ramshackle gate behind the animals.
“Good day, sirs,” he said pleasantly. “What can I help you with?”
“Good day, Henry,” Alden began. “Sir Devlin has been tasked by the king to find Lord Capell. He had a few more questions for you about the horse you found. Capell’s horse.”
“I’ll tell you what I can, but it’s not much. You already know what I saw that morning,” Alden replied.
“Yes, and the information was most helpful,” Alden assured him. “But Sir Devlin seeks a few more details.”
“When you found the horse, did it appear that anything was missing from the animal?”
“No, no.. nothing at all,” Henry shook his head. “Just as I said before, its fine tack was all there, and even the saddle bag was still attached to the saddle.”
Devlin already knew this information, but he pressed on with another question.
“Was there anything, anything at all that was unusual about the horse? Think, Henry,” Devlin said seriously.
Henry thought for a moment. “Mud,” he finally said.
Devlin’s head cocked slightly to the side. “Mud?” he echoed the farmer. “What would be unusual about mud?”
This was England in the winter. Mud was practically everywhere.
“It was the type of mud, sir. This was mud you see in the bog. The horse was covered from the hoof almost to its hock in thick bog mud. My boy and I tried to remove what we could with a quick curry before we took it back to the manor, but the beast looked like a mess.”
“And where would the closest bog be, Henry?” Alden inquired.
Henry pointed toward the south. “Just over that ridge. It’d be another ten minutes or so to get there.”
Devlin glanced at Alden, and then they both looked toward the sky. Henry was right to be sheltering the livestock. Thick, dark clouds were building; a storm would soon be upon them. Their search would have to wait another day.
The men thanked Henry and left the farmer to his work. Once out of earshot, Devlin turned to his friend.
“Why didn’t Benton or Ridley think to tell us about the state of the horse when it was returned? The mud could pinpoint Edmond’s last known location.”
Alden had no answers, but it was clear now that information was being deliberately withheld.
“Don’t mention anything about this to anyone. The storm looks close. We will have to continue our search of the bog tomorrow.”
Alden nodded, and as the wind began to pick up in earnest, they turned their horses toward the manor house and concentrated on getting there before the clouds released their cache of snow.
Devlin breathed a sigh of relief when the manor house was in view. By the time they reached the stable, the wind howled, and small particles of ice circulated in the air. Ridley was there, spreading fresh straw at the end of the barn that housed the chickens. Even the ducks had come in from the small shelters erected around the small pond where they spent their days. The birds were more than ready to leave the cold environment outside and come into the barn. Like the fowl, Devlin was appreciative of the shelter. The normally skittish chickens walked directly past him and settled into the confinement of the barn.
