Page 2 of Secrets of Capell Manor
The cold wind bit at Devlin Alastor’s face, cutting through his cloak as he sat atop his horse, looking down at the manor below. The night was heavy with mist, the chill creeping into his bones despite the layers he wore. His breath formed clouds in the air, dissolving into the fog as quickly as they appeared. He had been sent to Capell Manor on yet another mission for King Charles I, while a memory of blue terror-stricken eyes still haunted him.
Two weeks ago, he’d ridden through a similar mist to a small village to find Thomas Davies, a man accused of treason. Devlin closed his eyes, and the scene returned to him in vivid detail—the small cottage with a hole in the roof, the desperate pleading, and the sharp, final sound of his blade meeting flesh.
He could still see Thomas’s eyes, wide with fear and resignation, as he raised his sword. The man’s last words echoed in his ears, a futile plea for mercy that Devlin had ignored without a second thought. After all, it wasn’t his place to judge this man guilty or innocent. The king and his council had done so. That mission was like so many others. The man was ruled guilty; he had fled and was in hiding. Devlin’s job was to find him, kill him, and return to the king with his head. It was another life taken and another duty fulfilled.
But this time, it didn’t feel routine.
Devlin shifted in his saddle; the images ran through his mind over and over. Davies had begged for his life. That wasn’t unusual—most men did when they faced their death. But after his sword had severed the man’s head from his body, he had stepped back, his task complete, only to find himself facing a sight now burned into his memory—a child standing in the doorway, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. Her tiny hands clutched a worn doll, and she couldn’t have been more than five years old. The terror in her eyes was unlike anything Devlin had ever seen.
Time stopped in that moment; her gaze moved from her father’s head, which had rolled close to her feet to Devlin’s eyes, piercing through him, seeing not a knight in service to the king but a monster who had taken her father away. For the first time, he had seen himself through the eyes of an innocent, and it was a vision he could not shake.
Devlin exhaled sharply, the cold air stinging his lungs. The king’s orders had been clear; the evidence of Thomas’s guilt was unconvincing, but the command was absolute. Disobedience was not an option. Yet, as he sat on that hill overlooking CapellManor waiting for his next mission to begin, the weight of that moment pressed down upon him.
He had not spoken of it, not even to Alden. There was no point. It would change nothing. The king would continue to command, and he would continue to obey, but the child’s eyes haunted him, lingering in the shadows of his thoughts. They made him question, even if just for a fleeting moment, the endless cycle of violence he had been bound to for so long. What kind of man had he become to carry out such orders without question? And what kind of man would he be if he did not?
But nothing could be done now. While the king valued his loyalty and seemed to appreciate that he got him out of many scandals and scrapes, a man of his lowly station had few choices. He was bound to a life of completing unsavory tasks. The son of a hired mercenary, it was only natural that he continued in his father’s footsteps.
He was a killer for hire, and the pay was good. After all, what else could he have done? Been a farmer? A sarcastic “huh” escaped his lips.
Many pointed to his surname’s meaning: avenger. And that alone somehow destined him to a life of avenging his king’s honor. No one would argue he was both brave and even menacing. He had never lost a battle and had never been bested in a fight. His reputation had made him a popular man whom many sought to retain his services or for revenge, but he served only one man, and no one questioned his loyalty.
But ironically, his given name could be translated as ‘unlucky,’ too, and he was beginning to think that his luck was running out as he sat high atop a hill on a cold January night with the ghostly visage of blue eyes and the sound of a head falling to the floor haunting him.
Occasionally, the thick clouds parted, allowing the full moon to briefly shine through before being obscured again by the dark,shifting sky. Yet, the misty cold rain persisted, soaking through his boots and creeping upward with a chill that slowly sank into his bones. He cursed silently under his breath.
He often contemplated abandoning this wretched existence, but the king always dangled the prospect of reward before him—his own lands and a home in exchange for his unwavering loyalty and his readiness to undertake the most unpleasant tasks without question or hesitation.
Now, he wondered if this mission might prove the most distasteful of all.
So a day when he wasn’t running hither and yon chasing down the king’s enemies seemed far out of his reach. And who knew if the king would fulfill the promise of land and home? Devlin pondered this thought as he grew cold sitting on his steed.
What in the name of all that’s holy am I doing here?
“Cursed rain!” Alden sighed loudly in frustration and anger. “What in the bloody hell are we doing here?” Alden, his best and only friend, and also his second-in-command, echoed his own thoughts.
“We are, my dear fellow, here to find the elusive Sir Edmond, as it seems our king has once again misplaced one of his loyal subjects. We are to discover the reason for his absence,” Devlin replied, not without sarcasm. “This earl, Edmond Capell, did not arrive at court after a summons was delivered to him. The king waited seven days and is now wondering where he is. Our job is to find him and deliver him to the king post-haste, whether he wants to come or not.”
Ignoring a summons from the king was a serious offense. Lesser insubordinations and insults often resulted in being jailed or even hanged. But the king did not suspect Lord Edmond had struck out on his own to conspire against him. He suspected foul play, not a disobedient lord. Edmond had alwaysbeen a staunch supporter. Although he had a questionable character, he had never given reason to doubt his steadfast devotion to the king and country.
“So what do we know?” Alden asked.
“We know that the king commanded Capell to appear in court some twenty-one days ago. He was expected in the first week of January, but he failed to arrive when expected. He had replied with a message of his own that he was honored to be invited to court and would be there. The king waited, as you know, but Lord Edmond Capell never made it to the palace. And that is all we know about Lord Edmond,” said Devlin.
“And what about the manor house? What are we walking into there?” Devin looked down at the manor house. He saw no fires in the courtyard. Further, there were no men in the watchtower. That alone didn’t bode well. King Charles had warned his Royalists to remain vigilant. No loyal servant to the king would leave his house and land without even a minimal guard.
He looked down at his loyal hound, Grim, who stood to the side of his steed. The large dog detected no movement outside the manor house.
“Lord Edmond Capell, from what I gather, is a lecherous old man who loves games of chance. He is rumored to be loose with his money at the gaming tables and likewise likes loose women. I have heard he has quite the temper and runs his house on the bare minimum needed to keep the manor afloat. His servants hate him, and he has no family except a niece over whom he has guardianship.”
“He once kept a small regiment of men here with him, but he failed to pay them so many times that they left. He relies on the king for protection now.”
Both men were silent for a moment. “This lord doesn’t sound like much of anything. Why does the king have so much interest in finding him?” Alden wondered out loud.
“His lands lay next to those of several men whose loyalty the king considers questionable. Suffice it to say, Lord Edmond keeps a close watch and reports anything suspicious directly to His Majesty.” Sir Devlin paused, weighing his words with care. “But it’s not my place to challenge the king’s urgency in this matter. I have my orders, and I intend to carry them out.”
Alden thought for a moment and then asked, “What of the niece?”
“What of her?” Devlin responded. “Her lot in life, most assuredly, has not been easy. But that’s not my problem. Hopefully, she’ll have some information we can use to clear up this mess. And if not, she’ll discover quickly; it’s best not to hinder my investigation. I want to resolve this as quickly as possible.”
