Chapter 13

"What are you doing with that?" Robin asked as Wolfram pulled out the sword Gavin kept hidden behind the clothes chest. He tucked it beneath his cloak before anyone else saw.

"It doesn't matter."

"Then where are you going?"

"Down to the village."

Robin stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the parlour door. "Wolf. What are you doing?"

Wolfram didn't want to explain himself. He feared he might be talked out of it. But Robin knew him better than anyone, and he wouldn't be satisfied with a half-answer.

"Come outside and I'll tell you." They left the keep and huddled together in the shadow of the wall. "I'm going to Aldrich's house. I think Ingrid's there."

"What for?"

"Because I think he killed Lady Julia! He made Petra poison her. I need to see Ingrid."

"Don't be stupid. Remember what happened the last time you ran off with Aldrich? Go and tell Lord Erik."

Wolfram shook his head, frustrated that Robin didn't understand. "He won't listen! I just need to speak with her. And if Aldrich is there, I'm going to make him wish he wasn't."

Robin grabbed his arm. "You can't do that. By God, Wolf, you need to think. You know Lord Erik's upset. What do you suppose he'll do if he wakes up tomorrow and finds out you've been fighting in the village? What if you kill someone?"

"It won't matter if it's Aldrich."

"I won't let you do it."

Wolfram shook him off violently and made for the castle gate. Robin grabbed his arm again. Wolfram rounded on him, not knowing what he was about to do, but before he could react, Robin hit him in the ear. He staggered, and in his moment of confusion Robin twisted the sword out of his hand.

"I'm keeping this sword, alright? You can talk, but no fighting."

For a second, Wolfram felt like he might hit Robin back. He clenched his fist and took a step toward him. Robin recoiled, and Wolfram stopped. Shame and regret took hold of him, rising like a painful bubble in his chest. Instead of hitting Robin, he put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a rough embrace.

"I'm sorry," he huffed. He didn't know how to act in situations like this. The squires never expressed affection for one another this way. Part of him was afraid that Robin might mock him, but he couldn't believe their friendship was that fragile. He was glad Robin couldn't see his face, for when he returned the hug, Wolfram felt tears running down his face.

"I don't want you getting in trouble," Robin said gently.

"I know, I know, but I need to speak to Ingrid."

"No fighting."

Wolfram wiped his cheeks quickly and stepped back. "If Aldrich is there, he might start something."

"Then I'll be around to make sure it doesn't get out of hand."

Wolfram nodded. Despite his desire to be alone, he felt a great warmth toward Robin for being there for him. Julia's death seemed less jarring now that he had a friend by his side.

They told no one where they were going. Quickly and quietly, they lifted the bar on the gate door and slipped out of the castle. Robin had brought a covered lantern from the kitchen, and when he lifted it from beneath his cloak it cast a dim pool of light through its gauze panels. They made their way through the fir trees until they reached the winding path beneath the lavender wall. Its pale purple colour was almost visible in the moonlight that night.

Wolfram explained what had happened with Petra on the way down. Robin listened grimly, deep in thought. Even if they couldn't resolve everything tonight, Wolfram felt confident that his clever friend would figure out a solution by tomorrow. He'd know how to present their suspicions to Lord Erik in a way that made him listen.

They didn't need the light of the lantern again until they reached the foot of the hill. After a short walk, the streets of Firfallow greeted them. It was then that Wolfram had to admit he didn't know where he was going. The village was large enough that he wasn't sure who most of the houses belonged to. It was the major trading hub for miles around, and many stone buildings had been erected near the marketplace by its wealthier citizens. Any of them could've been Isabella Merchant's house. Fortunately, Robin knew which one they were looking for. He pointed it out as they walked. It had two floors, a long roof of wooden shingles, and shuttered windows with iron bars for security. Wolfram could see chinks of light shining behind some of them. A tingling sensation crept over his body as he approached. He felt like he'd been holding a tense breath all evening, and only speaking with Ingrid could let it out. Only she could set his mind at ease.

He lifted his hand and rapped on the door. No one answered. He leaned in close and heard the sound of voices on the other side. He knocked again, harder. This time there was the rattle of a bolt being drawn back. The door swung open to reveal a brightly lit hall filled with people. Wolfram immediately tensed, as did the man opening the door. He was one of the ones from the expedition to catch Percy Butcher–the plump one with the young face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was thick as if he were drunk, but he sounded nervous. He hadn't expected the baron's men to show up in the middle of the night. Though Wolfram's head was still foggy, he had enough of his wits about him to realise that he could take advantage of that.

"Out of my way," he said firmly, shouldering his way inside. "I'm here on behalf of Lord Erik. Is the lady Ingrid here?"

His appearance caused a stir in the room. Several of the men rose to their feet, Aldrich among them. He wore an impatient scowl.

"Ingrid's not going anywhere with you, baron's boy."

Before things could escalate any further, a shrill laugh cut through the tension. For a moment, Wolfram didn't recognise the voice, for he had never heard it raised in such carefree mirth before. He looked across the room and saw Ingrid sitting in a cushioned chair by the hearth, a shiny metal goblet cupped in her hand.

"Are you two going to fight? You look like a pair of cocks in a ring."

She was drunk. Wolfram had never seen her like this.

"Lady Julia's dead," he announced.

Ingrid's smile immediately vanished. She put down her cup and rose to her feet. "And her baby?"

"A boy. He's alive and well. It looks like you won't have to marry Lord Ricaud after all."

"Get out of here, baron's boy," Aldrich said. "No one wants you spoiling the mood."

"No, Aldrich," Ingrid said quickly. She hurried over to him and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. The sight of them conversing so intimately made Wolfram's skin crawl. Whatever she said made Aldrich round on her in anger. There was a short, sharp exchange between them, then, with obvious frustration, Aldrich snatched up his mug and waved for the others to follow him.

"Come on, everyone. We're going to Daniel Brewer's for a bit."

Wolfram stood aside so they could pass. One by one, Aldrich and his friends filed out until the house was empty. Robin hovered in the doorway, keeping a wary eye on the group as they crossed the marketplace.

"Robin, would you please wait outside?" Ingrid said. The mirth had left her voice. She sounded anxious now. "I'd like you to stand watch in case they come back."

"Of course, my lady."

The moment Robin shut the door, Ingrid hurried forward and threw her arms around Wolfram. "Oh, Wolf, I'm so glad you're here. I shouldn't have come, should I? Poor Julia. You must tell me everything that's happened."

The feeling of Ingrid's slender arms around his body and her cheek on his chest made Wolfram return the embrace. His pulse quickened, but instead of desire, he felt irritated and confused. He eased her away from him.

"You're drunk," he said.

"Yes, I suppose I am. I had to do something to get through this awful night."

"You seemed like you were having a fine enough time with Aldrich."

"I told you, he's a friend. Oh, please don't bring this up again, not tonight. Let's not talk here. Anyone might come in. Come upstairs and tell me what's happened."

But Wolfram did want to bring it up again. He wanted to ask her just what the hell she thought she was doing, staying up all night drinking in a house full of unscrupulous men. But he remembered what Petra had told him, and the urgency of his purpose returned. He allowed Ingrid to lead him up a flight of wooden stairs. Candles burned in wall sconces along a landing that ran the length of the building. Ingrid took one of them and opened the nearest door. Inside there was a small bedroom with a table and a bed dressed in expensive linens. Ingrid put the candle down and made him sit beside her on the mattress.

"Now, tell me what happened."

"Julia fell asleep, the midwife said, and she didn't wake back up. She said she's never seen a woman die like that." He studied Ingrid's face for any change in her expression. "I saw Petra mixing something in a bowl after you left. When I asked her about it, she said you told her to slip Julia some of your father's sleeping root. Is that true?" Wolfram gripped Ingrid's arm tight. "Did you tell her to poison Julia?"

Her brow furrowed with a deep frown. "No, Wolfram, no. Why would I ever do such a thing?"

"Because Aldrich hates her? Because he doesn't want things in Elkinshire to change? After what happened with Kilwick, he's getting scared. Did he say anything to you?"

Ingrid began to shake her head, then paused. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Not to me, but he's been bothering Petra. I thought he had a crush on her, so I didn't pry. It's been going on for a few months now."

Relief washed over Wolfram, carrying away his doubts like leaves in a stream. "So you had nothing to do with it? Petra was lying to me?"

"I swear it on my life. Poor Petra. He must have threatened her terribly."

"Now do you believe me about him?"

"I really don't want to think about that right now."

Wolfram's grip on her arm eased. He slid his hand down to take hers. "Come back to the castle with me. We'll talk to Petra and get the whole truth. Then, once your father's ready to hear it, we'll tell him what happened."

"I don't want Petra to get in trouble."

"We'll work something out. Aldrich can't get away with this."

"I just can't bear the thought of you two fighting. Will you let me handle this? It'll be better if I deal with Petra myself."

A twinge of Wolfram's unease returned, but before he could put a finger on what it was, the thought deserted him, for Ingrid had placed her palm upon his cheek.

"I am so very fond of you, Wolfram." Her voice was a quiet tickle in his ear.

After everything else that had happened that night, Wolfram no longer had any difficulty speaking his mind.

"I love you."

Ingrid smiled. "Oh, I know. You make it rather obvious. You've always been my loyal little pup." She stroked his hair back behind his ear, leaned in, and kissed him on the lips. He was cold from being outside, and Ingrid's mouth was warm and eager. She was more aggressive than the baker's daughter he'd kissed at the summer fair. He didn't know how to react. He'd wanted this for so long, fantasised about it a hundred times, and now it was finally happening. He wanted to take Ingrid in his arms, kiss her back fiercely, and forget about everything else. But now wasn't the time. It was all wrong. He forced himself to pull away.

"We can't do this here. We need to go back to the castle."

Ingrid nuzzled into his cheek, kissing him along the jaw, her lips so wonderfully soft against the sandpaper of his stubble. "I don't want to go out there in the cold. I want to do it now. Robin's keeping watch. He'll let us know if anyone comes."

Wolfram's heart fluttered. He felt a surge of desperate arousal that tugged and twisted against the better sense that told him to leave.

"When will we have a chance like this again?" Ingrid whispered into his ear. "Not at the castle. If we sneak off alone together, people will talk."

"We could be married–"

"Shut up." Ingrid pushed him down on the mattress and straddled him. Wolfram felt his chest heaving. He knew it was foolish and wrong, but he didn't want to stop. She was kissing him all over his face, holding his hand, twining her fingers between his.

"I can feel your cock getting hard," Ingrid murmured in his ear, giggling like one of the marketplace whores who enticed their customers with lewd comments. Again Wolfram was unnerved to hear her speak in such a way, but he couldn't deny that it excited him. Ingrid straightened up to pull her dress over her head and unlace her undergarments. Wolfram could only see half of her body illuminated in the candlelight, but it was as smooth and perfect as he'd imagined. He hurried to unfasten his own clothing. Ingrid didn't wait for him to fully undress before taking his shaft in her hand, rubbing him against the tangle of hair between her legs, and pushing him inside her. The warmth of her body made Wolfram groan. He'd heard that sex could be painful for a woman, but Ingrid showed no discomfort as she leaned forward, raking her hands through his hair as she began to ride him. She was panting and eager, staring down into his eyes with a look of intensity that Wolfram was helpless to resist.

"You've always been my favourite," she gasped, running her palm down his face until her thumb pressed against his lips. "My father's dog, chasing after me, wanting to hump my leg."

Wolfram swallowed, a little put off by the demeaning analogy, but too caught up in the moment to say anything back.

Ingrid leaned in closer, her fingernails pricking the side of his neck as her thumb scraped over his teeth. "You big, dumb dog. You stupid mule."

Wolfram twisted away from her hand. "Stop that. I don't like it."

Ingrid grinned, grabbing his head in both hands so she could look at him again. " I like it." Her breath huffed against his face, damp on his cold skin. She smelled like strong wine. "I like you ," she panted. "I'd put you on a leash."

"Stop–you're drunk."

"Don't talk back to me." She put her thumb against his throat and pressed down. "I want it like this. Don't you love me?"

Wolfram's arousal was fading by the second, something dreadful creeping in to take its place. His body chafed against his clothing with cold sweat. This wasn't what he wanted, but he didn't know how to get Ingrid to stop without making it worse. She leaned in and kissed him, running her sticky tongue over his stubble as if she hungered for all the rough and coarse parts of his body. Wolfram felt nauseous.

"Good dog. You're my favourite. You'll do anything I want, won't you? Tell me you'll do anything."

When Wolfram didn't respond, she worked both hands into his hair, gripping his scalp until her nails dug in. She was riding him hard, her breath shrill and erratic. "You love me," Ingrid gasped, then her body tensed up and she began to shudder. Wolfram stared at her in horror. She looked like she was possessed by a devil, writhing and gasping as she dug her nails in so hard he felt blood trickling down the back of his neck.

"Stop it!" he exclaimed, grabbing her hands and wrenching them away. He twisted sideways so that she fell off him and dragged himself out of the bed. His stomach was in a knot. The sweat on his body was raw shame and guilt. He'd never felt so miserably confused and disgusted, not just at Ingrid, but at himself. How had something that started so wonderfully turned so vile?

Ingrid swept her messy hair away from her face and looked up at him. "Don't be like that. I know it's what you wanted. Come on, we can do it again if you like."

It was what he'd wanted, and that made it all the worse. He felt humiliated, like he'd blindly thrust his hand into a fire and burnt himself. None of the stories the boys told about sex were like this. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Why couldn't Ingrid just have been nice? Everything he'd felt for her was falling apart so fast it made his head spin. With shaking hands, he pulled up his undergarments and re-fastened his belt.

"I'm going back to the castle," he said.

"Stay here tonight."

Wolfram could think of nothing he wanted less. He'd never felt so shaken, not even after his duel with Aldrich. Ingrid had stabbed him in the heart and snapped off the blade. He stared at her, naked and beautiful in the candlelight, her expression cold as winter dusk.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he said in a dull voice. "You made Petra poison Julia."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm going to tell your father."

"Why won't you believe me!" Ingrid's voice rose shrilly. "You love me, Wolfram!"

He wasn't sure anymore. No one had ever made him feel this horrible. He still couldn't believe it was true, but the dreadful feeling in his gut begged his inner eye to turn where it had been afraid to. He remembered Ingrid laughing when he came into the house, excited at the prospect of him and Aldrich getting into a fight. Once upon a time, she'd asked about their duel, hungry to hear all the morbid details. But then in Kilwick, when she'd protested her innocence so vehemently, she'd said all she wanted was to avoid more fighting. She'd said the same thing tonight after Aldrich left. How many times had she contradicted herself without him realising? How many times had he smiled and nodded when she snapped her fingers?

"Come here," Ingrid said. All the passion had gone from her voice. She was every bit the commanding noblewoman again.

Wolfram shook his head. "You're two-faced."

"I don't want this to come between us."

"You keep saying that! I'm not your stupid pet!"

Ingrid's expression darkened. She gathered up her dress and clutched it to her chest. "Don't be so cruel to me."

Wolfram was incredulous. How could she be like this? Did she really believe that everything she did was justified, no matter how hurtful or manipulative? She'd never seemed cruel to Wolfram before, and that frightened him more than anything. His convictions had been shaken to their core that night. What else had he been blind to?

He turned away and grabbed the door handle.

"If you say a word to my father, I'll tell him what you did!" Ingrid cried. "I'll tell him you came here and made Robin stand guard while you raped me."

Wolfram rounded on her, his face burning hot. "That's a lie!"

"Aldrich and the others all saw it. They'll tell my father the truth."

"It's not the truth!"

"Yes it is! I'm all he has now. He'll believe me."

Wolfram ground a thumb and forefinger into his eyes, spitting out something between a sob and a cry of anger. "Why are you doing this?!"

"Because you hurt me! You're going to tell my father lies, and I won't let you." Her voice softened. "I don't want this to come between us. You don't have to say anything. Everything can go back to the way it was before."

"Julia's dead!" Wolfram stared at Ingrid, searching for remorse in her expression and finding none. "Is Aldrich your dog, too?"

"He's my friend. I'm very fond of him."

Wolfram couldn't bear to hear any more. He wrenched the door open and walked out. He was halfway down the stairs when the front door burst open and Robin came in.

"Aldrich is coming back!" he called. "He's got more of his friends with him. I think we should go."

Wolfram glanced back down the landing. What had Ingrid whispered in Aldrich's ear to make him leave? He felt like anything could happen now. His whole world had turned upside down, and he was afraid.

"Is there a back door?"

"I don't know."

Wolfram hurried to the bottom of the stairs and found a door at the back of the hall, but it was locked. There was no other way to go but out the front.

"What did Ingrid say?" Robin asked.

"Nothing." Wolfram didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. His only goal at that moment was to get out of the house and return to the castle.

Their delay looking for another exit cost them. By the time they pushed the front door open, Aldrich and his men were right outside. There were a dozen of them, and they were armed. Wolfram saw clubs, mallets, and a pair of swords. He grabbed Robin's cloak and ran to the left. They made it to the corner of the house before one of Aldrich's thugs got in their way. He had a long, flat-ended piece of wood in his hands that looked like a washing stick. Wolfram tried to dodge past him, but the man swung his improvised club and forced them back. The others closed in to surround them. Someone hit Wolfram in the side of the head, then half a dozen hands grabbed the back of his cloak, dragging him through the doorway and throwing him to the floor. A man's voice cried out in pain as Robin drew his sword and cut one of them. The next groan came from Robin as Aldrich's men set about him with clubs and fists, battering the sword out of his hand and driving him to the ground. They dragged him inside and threw him down next to Wolfram. When Wolfram tried to get up, he found the tip of Aldrich's sword at his throat. The door banged shut behind them, and the bolt rasped in its bracket.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wolfram said, trying to summon authority in his voice. "You're attacking the baron's men!"

"Are you going to arrest us?" Aldrich said mockingly. Some of his friends laughed. A chill went down Wolfram's spine.

Robin rose to one knee. "Lord Erik will hang you if you don't let us go!"

"Shut him up."

The man with the washing stick swung the flat end into Robin's face. He groaned, clapping a hand to his mouth as blood spilt through his fingers. Seeing his friend hurt enraged Wolfram. He rolled away from Aldrich's sword and put his arm around Robin, shielding him from the next blow. The washing stick cracked against Wolfram's upper arm, sending an explosion of pain through his body like nothing he'd ever felt. The entire limb went numb. Fearing for his life, he twisted away, only to find himself faced with another attacker. He threw a punch with his good arm and felt the man's nose crunch beneath his knuckles. Robin yelped in pain behind him. Whirling back around, Wolfram saw that Aldrich had Robin by the hair while another man struck him in the stomach. With a roar of anguish, Wolfram threw himself at them, but someone kicked him in the shin and he fell. A heavy boot stamped on the back of his ankle. He screamed as another burst of agony shot up his leg.

"Stop it!" Ingrid's voice called from the top of the stairs. Wolfram couldn't see through the press of bodies, but he heard the sound of feet hurrying down the steps. He felt a glimmer of hope. Despite all she'd done, Ingrid might not be completely heartless.

"Make up your mind," Aldrich snapped.

"You'll kill them, you beast!"

"No we won't. We're just going to make sure they don't say anything about tonight. You said I could have it my way if yours didn't work."

Through a gap in the crowd, Wolfram saw Ingrid staring down at him. There was remorse in her expression.

"I'm terribly sorry, Wolfram. I wish you hadn't behaved so wretchedly."

Aldrich took a club from one of his men and hefted it in his hand. "I told you, baron's boy. One of these days."

Wolfram tried to grit his teeth through the pain as Aldrich's boot slammed into his chest. Then the blows fell on him.