Chapter 12

They heard no more troubling news from Kilwick. Father Richard's threat appeared to have worked, and Aldrich left him alone. Soon afterwards, money began trickling in from the property in Tannersfield. It wasn't a lot, but as the months passed Wolfram noticed that the pantry was no longer being restocked at the last moment. There were always full barrels on the floor and cuts of preserved meat hanging from the ceiling. A few more horses appeared in the stables, and builders started coming in to make repairs that had been neglected for months. How else might the castle transform if Lord Erik could collect his rents in full? There would be a horse for every squire, smart new surcoats and suits of mail; the cracks in the stonework would be repaired, and the lavender wall might someday live up to its namesake again. The progress they'd made emboldened Wolfram. This was the first step towards clawing back what years of mismanagement and Aldrich's interference had taken away.

It was all thanks to Lady Julia. Lord Erik was set in his ways. He didn't like change, and that was why things stagnated. But Julia's plan to trade away Kilwick had worked. Now that Erik could see the fruits of his new wife's labours, he was growing bright and eager once more. The gloom that had descended upon him following the news of Julia's pregnancy lifted. He understood that there were other paths forward now. Ingrid might not have to marry for money after all. If they could turn Elkinshire's fortunes around, there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Wolfram shared in his lord's optimism. Though he still felt the sting of Ingrid's deception in Kilwick, he was willing to put it behind him and move forward. He was eighteen now, a grown man, as tough and wiry as Dunstan, though the lanky man-at-arms still had a good inch of height over him. He and the other squires were becoming a proper household guard. They rode across Elkinshire delivering messages and summons, escorting travellers, and settling local disputes. Aldrich's men might still have been the dominant group in the area, but Lord Erik was making his presence felt once more. There was a growing belief in Firfallow that Aldrich's leash would soon be snapped tight.

That day couldn't come soon enough for Wolfram.

When Lady Julia went into labour that summer, a midwife named Ellen Good was summoned from the village. She was middle-aged, stocky and fair-haired, and she carried herself with the air of a woman who was used to being in charge. Wolfram felt much more confident knowing she would be at Julia's bedside rather than the bookish Father Everwin.

Most of the household gathered in the great hall, too excited and nervous to carry on with their work. Every so often they heard distant groans from upstairs, and the noise stirred the rustle of conversation like a poker raking through hot coals. Groups of people took it in turns to pray for Julia in the castle chapel. Even Wolfram joined in when he was invited. Julia was well-liked by the household at large, and it was her safety more than the child's that people were concerned for. Whatever happened, life in the castle was never going to be the same after tonight.

The only person who didn't participate in the gossip was Lady Ingrid. She sat with her maidservant Petra at the end of the high table, nursing her forehead with one hand and a cup of wine with the other. A tense and dejected expression sat on her face. Eventually, Wolfram braved her temper and approached the high table.

"Milady," he said with a small bow. "Are you feeling well?"

"What do you think?" she tried to sound impatient, but there was fear hidden behind her temper.

"Which one are you hoping for?" Wolfram tried to keep his tone jovial. "A boy or a girl?"

"Can I have neither? I'd rather not be any more related to that woman than I already am."

"You don't mean that. It's nice, having sisters. I've two of my own. And if it's a boy, I don't expect you'll have to go through with marrying Lord Ricaud."

"No," Ingrid replied wearily. "Instead I shall look forward to Julia and her son taking over my father's castle. If you really want to help, Wolfram, then would you go to the stable and have my horse readied for me? I won't be able to sleep here with this racket going on."

"Where will you go?"

"Down to the village. I'll find a room there tonight. I'd rather not hear any more about what's happening upstairs till tomorrow."

"I can accompany you if you'd like. You should have an escort."

"I'm hardly likely to be accosted by footpads on the castle path, Wolfram." She flashed him a smile. "But your concern is touching, as always." She seemed distracted still, and Wolfram sensed she wasn't in the mood for any more conversation. He went out to the stable and passed on her instructions. The sun was already low in the sky, the shadows of the castle walls stretching from one side of the courtyard to the other. The midwife had warned that Lady Julia might be in labour all night.

When he returned to the keep, Ingrid was already leaving. He passed her on the way out and went over to Petra at the high table.

"Aren't you going with her?" It was unlike Ingrid to leave the castle overnight without her maid.

Petra shook her head. She'd always been aloof with Wolfram and the other servants, believing herself above them because of her close relationship with Ingrid. Having no particular desire to spend time with her, Wolfram went to find Robin instead. He was passing by the stairs to the solar when Ellen Good came hurrying down. She caught his eye and motioned him over.

"You're a big strong lad. Come up and help me with the water." Then she turned to Petra. "It's time for you to come up as well."

Petra's help must have been volunteered beforehand. She didn't look happy about it, but she got up and followed Ellen upstairs. Wolfram brought up the rear.

"Will I need to go in there?" he asked nervously.

"No, don't fret yourself," Ellen replied. "I've got plenty of help. I just need you to bring me some fresh water. I'll give you a big basin to take down to the kitchen. I want it boiled. It's important that it's boiling. Get the basin nice and hot, too. Once it's cold enough to be carried, bring it back up here. Let it cool naturally. Don't mix in any cold water to bring down the temperature."

Wolfram didn't understand the methods of wise women, and he was afraid to ask, so he just nodded. He heard a moan from Lady Julia's room when they reached the top of the stairs. She'd moved into Lord Erik's chamber when they got married, but her old room was more spacious, so Ellen had taken her in there tonight. Wolfram waited while the women went inside. Petra returned a moment later and passed him a heavy copper basin with handles on the sides.

"How is she?" Wolfram asked. Petra turned away as if she hadn't heard him. She was being even ruder than usual that evening. Perhaps she resented being left to help the midwife while Ingrid spent the night in the village.

With a shake of his head, Wolfram went downstairs to boil some water in the kitchen. Meg and Cat accosted him the moment he came in.

"How is she?" Meg asked.

"I'm not sure. We're just waiting at the moment. The midwife sent me to boil some water."

"Oh, I should be up there, not that woman. She doesn't even know milady."

Wolfram filled the basin from the kitchen cistern and took it to the large covered hearth that was used for roasting and boiling. Meg stirred the coals at one end with a stick and set out a metal stand for the basin.

"Ellen's a proper midwife," Wolfram explained. "They say she delivers all the babies in Firfallow."

Meg scoffed. "I've delivered babies. I pulled this one out of her mother myself." She nodded at Cat.

Realising that Meg and Ellen were the sorts of women who would butt heads like bulls, Wolfram did his best to dissuade the cook from going upstairs. Fortunately the kitchen servants were busy with the evening meal, and Meg had plenty of work to keep her out of harm's way.

Wolfram was still being pestered with questions by the time the water boiled. He was getting uncomfortable in the heat of the kitchen, so he wrapped the handles of the copper basin with a pair of washcloths and took it upstairs. It was still hot, and the damp rags had the opposite of their intended effect. The heat went straight through them into Wolfram's palms. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, his hands were stinging. He searched frantically for a place to set the basin down before his skin blistered. The door to Lady Julia's room was shut, and the table was all the way at the other end of the solar. The door to Lord Erik's room stood ajar, and through it he could see another table. Hurrying in, he set the basin down and breathed a sigh of relief as he blew on his reddening palms. There was a gasp from the other end of the room. He turned around and saw Petra with a pestle and mortar in her hands. She was working at a cabinet next to the bed, and Wolfram's sudden appearance had startled her.

"You can't come in here!"

"I was just bringing the water. Can you let Ellen know the basin's still hot?"

"Get out!" Petra snapped.

Her temper bemused Wolfram, but he had no interest in arguing with her. He went back downstairs and sat with the other squires, putting his hands around a cool ceramic mug of ale Robin poured for him.

"Babies make everyone act strangely," he told his friend. "Petra's so short-tempered today."

"My sister was like that when she was pregnant."

"Petra's not the pregnant one though, is she? I don't understand women." Wolfram took a sip of his ale, thinking about Ingrid and her changing moods. She could be so tender sometimes and bitterly cold at others.

"Cat's alright," Robin said. "I understand her."

"That's because she doesn't talk. There's not a lot to understand."

"Don't let her hear you say that."

"She's busy in the kitchen with Meg. Oh, if Meg comes in here, don't let her go upstairs. She's spoiling for a fight with that midwife."

The pair of them continued talking as the last of the light faded and the evening meal was served. The hours stretched by, and Lady Julia's cries eventually grew fewer and farther between. Wolfram hoped that was a good sign. Some people went to bed, but most remained awake, willing to stay up as long as it took to hear news of the baby. At what must have been close to midnight, Lord Erik came downstairs to address the household. He looked very tired.

"I have a son," he announced. A scattering of cheers and applause rippled through the hall.

Wolfram's heart leapt. Erik had an heir! There was no way Lord Ricaud would want to marry Ingrid now.

"How's Lady Julia?" he asked.

When Erik turned to look at him, the expression on his face curdled Wolfram's excitement.

"She's not well. Father Everwin is tending her." He held up his hand to silence any further questions. "All we can do is wait and pray."

The atmosphere in the hall immediately became subdued. Another group of people hurried to the chapel. Wolfram rose to his feet and steadied himself against the table when a wave of giddiness swept over him. He hadn't realised how much ale he'd drunk.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked Lord Erik.

The baron shook his head despondently. "I don't know."

"I'll come up and ask."

Erik made no effort to stop Wolfram as he followed him upstairs. The solar was eerily silent. Every door had been shut. Petra and two other servants were seated at the far table, their hands clasped together in prayer. Wolfram felt useless. What could he do? Fetch more water? Even Ellen's helpers had been reduced to praying. Frustration itched at the back of his neck. When Lord Erik did nothing, Wolfram stepped by him, looking briefly to his lord for approval before knocking on Julia's door. Erik just stared blankly at him.

The door creaked open and Ellen Good came out. Over her shoulder, Wolfram saw Julia lying on the bed. Her skin was pale in the candlelight, her gown stuck to her body with sweat. She seemed very still. Father Everwin was seated next to her with a cloth-swaddled bundle in his arms. An infant's breathy cry sounded from within.

"How is she?" Wolfram asked.

"She's dead," Ellen said softly. "I'm ever so sorry, my lords."

Wolfram was stunned. He stared at Julia's body for a terribly long moment before turning away. He couldn't bear the sight of her lying there. It wasn't like the dead bodies he'd seen before. He'd known Julia. She'd been a friend to him, a mentor like Dunstan, and she'd shown him kindness and respect when others didn't. He couldn't imagine life at the castle without her.

Without a word, Lord Erik stepped past him and went into the room. He sat down beside Julia and took her hand. There were tears running down his cheeks. Wolfram wanted to cry, too, but he fought against it. He'd trained himself to bite back tears and stifle the hurt when he felt this way. It only invited mockery from the other squires. It was better to pick yourself up and turn that misery into aggression.

Wolfram marched toward the stairs. He wanted to get his favourite longsword from the armoury and swing it till his arms were numb, or run around the courtyard till he was exhausted, or kick a leather ball against the wall until its stitching fell out. But then he remembered all the people waiting downstairs, imagined their expectant faces turning toward him for news, and his step faltered. He turned around again and paced to the far end of the solar, his boots loud against the floorboards. The servants sitting at the table shied away from him. Wolfram was too upset to reassure them. He turned around and continued pacing, repeating his circuit until he was short of breath.

Eventually, other people began venturing upstairs. Dunstan came first, then Meg, then some of the laundresses. Father Everwin told them what had happened. Meg's wails of anguish filled the solar as she wept at the foot of Julia's bed. Dunstan stood by the door in silence, staring at Erik with concern.

"She's killed her!" Meg cried. "That witch–she never knew milady! I should've been here!"

Ellen Good, who had thus far endured the household's grief in silence, looked up sharply at Meg's accusation. "I did everything I could for her."

"Then why did she die?! There's no blood! If she wasn't bleeding then what killed her?"

"Sometimes these things just happen."

Meg turned to Lord Erik. "She gave her potions, didn't she? Tonics full of devil's magic!"

"Meg," Father Everwin said in a soothing voice. "Nothing she gave her was anything I would not have recommended myself."

"Then she put a curse on it, or she gave it wrong!" Meg was inconsolable, desperate to find an outlet for her grief. "She's not bleeding!" She pointed at Julia's clean gown. "The baby didn't kill her!"

"Shut up," Lord Erik said, his voice straining as if it was about to break. "Get out. Leave me alone with her." He looked up at Ellen with bloodshot eyes. "I never want to see you in Firfallow again."

Ellen stood still, perhaps debating whether to protest her innocence or cut her losses and leave. But there was no reasonable argument to be had with Erik or Meg that evening. Even Wolfram could see it. Ellen picked up her satchel, fastened her cloak about her neck, and hurried downstairs.

"All of you, out!" Erik repeated.

Wolfram waited until the others had gone downstairs before following. He didn't feel like talking to anyone. His grief was a personal thing, twisting and turning in his gut, and he knew he wouldn't sleep until he found some way to quiet it. He avoided the crowd of mourners in the great hall, staying in the shadows at the edge of the room as he made his way to the door and stepped outside. Only when he was away from the keep did he let out a heavy, breathless sob. His first thought was to go to the armoury and get his sword, but it would be locked at this time of night, and he didn't want to ask Dunstan for the key. He walked to the gate instead. The moon was bright and clear, shining off the castle walls to bathe the courtyard in pale silvery light.

Ellen Good walked past him leading her pony from the stables.

"Would you help me lift the bar?" she asked, motioning to the gate door.

Wolfram nodded, swallowing the painful tightness in his throat. "Meg shouldn't have said that to you."

"People say all sorts of things when they're grieving."

"I'm sure you did everything you could."

They lifted the bar down together, and Ellen said: "She was right, though. I don't know why your lady died. There was no bleeding."

"Do women always bleed when they die in childbirth?"

Ellen nodded. "Either inside or out, and I saw no sign of either. It takes a while, too. Usually days or even weeks. I've never seen a woman go like your lady did. She just started to drift off like she was falling asleep."

Her words didn't reassure Wolfram. He wanted there to be a reason for Julia's death–something that made sense, even if it was as simple as the same tragic explanation behind every ill-fated pregnancy. The fact that Ellen didn't know made it seem random and pointless.

"Don't mind what Lord Erik said," Wolfram tried to reassure her. If he could reassure someone else, perhaps his own grief would be easier to bear. "He's not a cruel man. I'm sure he won't make you leave the village."

Ellen gave him a smile. "You're a kind boy, but I know better than to test my lord's patience. I'll make myself scarce for a while. I've got other places I can go."

"Well, goodbye." Wolfram waved her off as she led her pony through the gate. When he turned around, he saw other people in the courtyard. They must have come out to find a moment's peace like him. He wished he had the night to himself. He wanted to sit out under the moon and weep without anyone seeing him.

The quantity of ale he'd drunk wasn't helping his frame of mind, and he needed to empty his bladder. He made his way to the latrine at the back of the castle and relieved himself into the cesspit. When he came out, he saw Petra standing by the wellhouse cistern. She was washing the copper basin he'd used to fetch water. That already felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. Still groggy from the drink, Wolfram stared at the wellhouse, wondering how long it had taken the builders to dig down through all the dirt and rock beneath the hill until they reached groundwater.

"That water must be freezing," he said. "Why don't you wash that in the kitchen?"

For the second time that night, Wolfram made Petra jump. He was standing in the shadows beside the kitchen building, and she hadn't seen him. She bolted upright, splashing water from her pail.

"Who's there?!"

Her petulant tone frustrated Wolfram, reigniting the itch of anger behind his grief. Why did she always have to be so haughty? Even in the wake of Lady Julia's death, she still sounded annoyed that someone had interrupted her. But that wasn't all. Her eyes flitted back and forth in the moonlight, desperately searching for the source of Wolfram's voice. She wasn't just irritated–she looked terrified.

Wolfram might not have been as sharp as Robin, but he could tell when something was amiss. Perhaps it was his urge to make sense of Julia's death, or perhaps he was just looking for an outlet like Meg, but a dark thought occurred to him in that moment. He stepped out of the shadows and approached Petra.

"What were you doing in Lord Erik's room earlier?"

"Nothing!"

"You had a bowl and you were mixing something."

"It was for the midwife!"

"Why did you go in there to do it?"

Petra looked like she might be about to bolt for the kitchen door. Wolfram grabbed her by the arms, squeezing harder than he'd meant to.

"Let go of me!" Petra cried. "I'll scream!"

"And I'll tell Lord Erik what I saw! Shall we fetch the midwife back? I'll ask her what you were doing in there. What was it?!"

Petra froze up. She stared at Wolfram like a cornered deer.

He shook her. "If you poisoned her, they'll hang you!"

"It wasn't my idea," Petra said in a thin voice. "Lady Ingrid said I must do it."

Wolfram stared at her in disbelief. "No she didn't." Ingrid had never liked Julia, but he couldn't believe she'd poison her. There had to be more to it.

"She did! Ask her, not me! She told me to give Lady Julia her father's sleeping root."

"Enough to kill her?"

Petra shook her head desperately. "I don't know!"

Wolfram couldn't tell whether she was lying. He was in turmoil, tormented by the thought that Ingrid could have a hand in something so vile. He tried to calm down and think.

"Will you tell Lord Erik?" Petra asked.

"I don't know." Wolfram knew he couldn't go to the baron right away. Erik was in no state to hear something like this. If Wolfram had misread the situation, he would be severely punished. He needed to speak with Ingrid first. If he could look her in the eye and ask for the truth, then he would know for sure. He'd know she was innocent.

"Where did Ingrid go?"

"She didn't say."

"Where does she usually stay when she's at the village?"

"With Isabella Merchant. Aldrich's mother."

Wolfram cursed and let her go. Of course Aldrich was involved. He couldn't make sense of it yet, but he could see the pieces coming together. Julia had been responsible for what happened with Kilwick. Aldrich must have known his days were numbered, and in desperation he'd done something drastic. Maybe he'd threatened Petra into poisoning Julia or tricked Ingrid into something she didn't understand. The thought of him manipulating Ingrid made Wolfram's blood boil. He definitely couldn't go to Lord Erik now. He couldn't tell anyone. He was going to Isabella Merchant's house, and if Aldrich was there, he'd do whatever it took to get the truth out of him.