Page 44 of Secrets of Capell Manor
Luella and Kaylyn moved over to Mr. Kelley’s chair. And with the snores of Grim, and the crackling of the fire in the great fireplace in the background, Luella and Kaylyn regaled the king’s man with a glorious tale that included watching the wrapped corpse for at least an hour, throwing a few acorns at it, and finally working up the courage to poke Edmond’s body with a stick.
“And did it moan? Or move?” Mr. Kelley asked.
Luella leaned forward and placed her small hand on the man’s knee. With wide eyes, she whispered, with enough drama to sound frightening, “Yes, I believe it did.”
Kaylyn nodded in agreement, and the older man placed his hand over his heart. “Oh my goodness! I shan’t sleep a wink tonight!”
Both girls erupted into laughter, and the royal servant joined in. Lady Rosalind couldn’t hide her smile and decided she would deal later with the girls and Ridley for telling such tales. She told the girls to get cleaned up for dinner, and they ran excitedly out of the room.
“Those two are quite entertaining and very clever,” Mr. Kelley said when the girls had left the room. “I enjoyed their story immensely.”
“It takes much of my energy and time to keep them out of trouble, but they are pure joy to me.”
Mr. Kelley nodded as if he understood, and Rosalind wondered if he had children of his own. She wanted to ask, but Benton entered the room and announced that the evening meal would be ready shortly, and they both retreated to their chambers to change before eating.
****
The Boar’s Head sat at the town’s end and was all but hidden, concealed by large English oaks and a tall, unkempt hedge of vegetation. Devlin wondered that, if the walls could talk, how many crimes and secrets would be revealed. The structure boasted an exterior framed with sturdy timber beams and a thatched roof that sloped downward, while sagging dramatically inward at the same time. Moss and ivy clung heavily to most of the exterior and looked to engulf the structure come spring.
Above the entrance, a wooden sign, its letters barely decipherable, swung lazily in the breeze; its once-vibrant colors faded from years of warm summer sun and harsh winter winds and snow. Mist rolled in like a white cloak from the vast fields behind the pub and threatened to conceal the pub even more. Devlin took a deep breath, pulled his hood low over his face, and approached the entrance.
A burly man stood guard and eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your business here, bloke?” he asked with a deep voice.
Devlin cleared his throat nervously, avoiding eye contact. “Just here for a pint.”
The large man moved to stand directly in front of Devlin, crossed his arms in front of him, and replied, “Pub’s closed.”
Devlin looked past him and retorted, “Looks to me like ale is being served.”
The doorman took a deep breath, leaned closer to Devlin, and said in a menacing whisper, “Look, you bloody bast-”
“Freedom whispers,” Devlin interrupted, the words barely audible.
The man’s stern expression softened as he nodded. He stood back and gestured for Devlin to enter.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior filled with the hushed tones of secretive conversations. Devlin stepped inside, his senses heightened as he scanned the room. He quickly assessed the layout of the pub, how many men were present, and what his exit options were should he need to leave in a hurry. Worn wooden tables filled the space, and each held a flickering lantern that cast shadows on the wall. Surprisingly, the floor was covered with unevenly cut, flat stones, but it hadn’t seen a broom in quite some time.
A few of the pub’s patrons turned to watch him as he walked in, but no one moved to stop him. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Devlin could feel the weight of the stares from the conspirators as they stopped talking. He wondered what secrets were being exchanged and what Lord Edmond’s role was in it all.
The pub’s noise faded as Devlin approached a table in the back. Two men entered the room through a door opposite the entrance. All the men in the room were quiet.
“Freedom whispers,” the two men said.
The crowd shouted back, “Freedom prevails!”
And then a litany of curses against the king followed from the mouths of the men. A few mugs flew across the room, resulting in a new line of cursing from the barkeep, who must have been the pub’s owner.
If he’d had any doubts about the opinions of this group about the monarchy, he didn’t now.
A burly man with a bright red beard walked behind the two men who had just entered and stood at the head of a long table. His sharp eyes looked at the patrons of each table.
The murmurs died down as the participants acknowledged the new arrival. Devlin felt a mixture of anticipation andtrepidation as he took a seat at a small table crammed into the very back corner of the room. He was careful to keep his face concealed in the shadows.
The bearded man’s gaze lingered on Devlin for a moment, suspicion flashing in his eyes, but then he turned his attention back to the proceedings. The room hummed with low conversation. Devlin listened carefully and caught snippets of various conversations—mostly complaints about the king and how more needed to be done.
Devlin strained to hear more of the conversation, and his ears quickly tuned to the betrayal around him. Soon, the red-bearded man, Robert, was his name, stood, and his voice rose above the others. He outlined a plan to steal resources from the crown to strengthen the Parliamentarian forces. He heard Edmond’s name more than once as treasonous plans unfurled one after another.
It wasn’t long before Devlin realized the depth of Capell’s betrayal. Not only was he collaborating with the Parliamentarians to oust the king, but these conspirators didn’t know that he was also playing them for fools.
