Page 116 of Raven's Rise
Rafe didn’t like the way Drogo looked at him as he said it.
* * * *
The days of the holy week preceding Easter seemed to drag for Angelet, who attended mass every day, but otherwise stayed close to the house. She usually had company, because with three other noblewomen and a number of female servants, there was always someone about. Angelet knew that everyone was subtly—and not so subtly—working to hide the extent of her relationship to Rafe while they were in Northampton. That was why he was staying in another house, and why they were not permitted to be in the same room alone together when he visited to meet with the family. She recognized the wisdom of it, but she hated it. After this, whether it ended well or not, Rafe and she would travel separate paths. Why did she have to be denied even the pleasure and comfort of being near him for these last few days? Though she tried to mask her feelings with the calm face she learned to use at Dryton, it seemed she wasn’t doing well.
“You’re melancholy,” Cecily told her one day.
“I’m worried about the audience with the king,” said Angelet. “I’m terrified I’ll say something wrong and hurt Rafe’s case. It’s the last thing I’ll ever be able to do for him. What if I fail?”
“Last thing?” Cecily asked, puzzled.
“I’m just being practical. We’ve no future.”
“You and Rafe, you mean? Why should that be?”
“It just is. He’s told me exactly that, again and again. From the very first time we met, Rafe made it clear that our meeting was purest chance, and that soon enough we’d be parted again….though when he first said that, he never could have envisioned how tangled our paths grew. Still, he said it.”
“Yes, but was he saying that for your benefit, or his own?”
“What do you mean?”
Cecily said, “Perhaps Rafe mentioned the end so often because he needed to remind himself of it…or else he’d start dreaming of another future. One with you in it.”
“No. He’s got his future…or he will, once the king hears his side of the story. Rafe will undoubtedly receive some sort of commission, or be granted a role in Stephen’s military, perhaps. He’s too good a warrior for the king to waste.”
“And what path will you take?” Cecily asked.
“I don’t know.” Angelet felt helpless as she pictured her future. “Otto will keep his grip on Henry more than ever now. I think my chance to be rejoined with him is gone.” The unfairness of it stung her. All she wanted was to provide her child with a home, where they could be happy together until he grew up. But she lacked the political power to do that. “I could go to Anjou—perhaps my family isn’t entirely lost, though unless we’re able to get an army together, there’s little chance we’ll be able to reclaim anything of our legacy. But I’ve no means to support myself.”
“Your gift of needlecraft might be more useful than you think,” Cecily said. “That altar cloth you showed me is an object worthy of princes. But I think you are too concerned with the future. See what happens during the audience with the king. Who knows what will come of it?”
“That’s what concerns me most,” Angelet said. “It is one thing to know that Fortune’s wheel is always turning. It is quite another to feel it crushing you into the mud when you finally think you could rise.”
“Have you had a vision as dire as that?”
“No. I never see myself in visions.”
“Then don’t fear a future you haven’t even seen, dear.”
The next day, Cecily came to Angelet with an excited expression on her face. “Listen, I had an idea! Your altar cloth…would you consider offering it as a gift to the king?”
Angelet said, “I wouldn’t dare presume it was good enough for a king. But it would be an honor.”
“I knew you’d think so. And I asked Luc’s father to exert some of his influence to beg a favor from the king. If you come with me to Northampton Castle this evening, you can present it to his grace. And if he happens to notice that you’re a modest and pious lady who deserves justice, so much the better!”
Angelet wore a gown borrowed from Luc’s sister. The undyed linen of the fabric glowed almost white in firelight, and the tunic-like overskirt was a pale grey-blue that appeared more like silver. She wore the moonstones around her neck, since they were the only jewelry she had.
She took care to braid her hair tightly and bind it up on her head so as to show restraint and modesty. If she were a nun, she’d have to cover her hair completely. As she prepared, she idly thought of young Robin. The girl felt caged at Cleobury…Angelet guessed that Robin would literally climb the walls of an actual nunnery.
“I am not so wild,” she said aloud, rather regretting her nature. She’d had her moment of wildness, when she accepted Rafe into her life so very briefly. Those few weeks had been filled with passion and excitement and danger, and she should be happy it was now over. There would be no more wildness, not for her. And not for Rafe either, since he would no longer be an itinerant knight. She refused to think of what might happen to him should Otto prevail during the audience. Rafe could be branded a criminal, despite all her efforts to defend him.
“That’s what tonight is for,” she told herself. “I’ll beg the king for mercy if I must.”
Cecily and Angelet rode to the castle in a carriage, escorted by a few men-at-arms from the household. It seemed Cecily kept the visit a secret from nearly everyone, except for Luc’s father, who arranged it. Angelet wondered if that was because she feared it would be a failure.
Angelet held the folded altar cloth in her lap, feeling more nervous by the second. What if the king refused to see them? What if he accused her of something terrible? What if he despised the gift?
“We should go back,” she whispered to Cecily. “This is a mistake.”
