Chapter 21

The sound of a ceramic jug shattering jerked Wolfram awake. He'd gone to bed an hour ago, but the night was ever young when Aldrich and his men were drinking. With the parlour taken over by the kitchen servants, Wolfram and the other squires were sleeping in a corner of the great hall. It was dark where they lay, but the hearth still burned bright in the middle of the room and the high table gloved with the light of a dozen candles. Aldrich and Ingrid sat giggling over goblets of wine while a dozen people played a game of hoodman-blind in front of them. Most were Aldrich's men, but some of the squires and servants had joined in as well. The tables had been pushed back against the walls to make room while a smouldering brazier provided extra light. The person currently wearing the hood was drunkenly fumbling after the others, and in their stumbles they'd knocked a jug off one of the benches. There was some annoyed grumbling from the people trying to sleep, but the merrymakers paid them no attention.

Wolfram sat up, no longer feeling weary. Ever since Aldrich arrived, he often woke in the night. Normally he would have gone for a walk, hoping for the commotion to die down by the time he returned, but a frigid draft from the door changed his mind. Winter really was around the corner. He decided to go to the chapel and pretend to pray instead. At least it would be warm in there. Picking up his cloak, he tried to avoid the merrymakers as he shuffled down the left side of the hall, heading for the door that led to the chambers where Father Everwin kept his room alongside the chapel and treasury.

No one paid any mind to Wolfram as he went. Aldrich, no doubt at Ingrid's insistence, seemed resolved to ignore him. There was still a lingering tension between them, but otherwise their rivalry had grown cold. Wolfram was a hard person to bully. He weathered insults well, and since he was not sharp-tongued enough to argue back, Aldrich and his men quickly grew bored of trying to goad him. But Wolfram remembered what they'd done. Cold though the rivalry was, it simmered with righteous indignation beneath the surface. The second he had his chance, he would see them face justice for Robin's murder.

Perhaps it was because his temper was up that Wolfram reacted so strongly when another crash filled the hall. It wasn't a jug this time, but the brazier full of hot coals. Pieces of burning wood bounced across the stone floor, some of them skidding so close to Wolfram that he had to lift his cloak and take a step back.

"Watch what you're doing!" he called. There was little risk of fire in the great hall, but loose coals were never a good thing. He picked up one of the rush mats that already had black scorch marks on the surface and used it to scoop the scattered coals out of harm's way.

"Oh, don't be an old woman, Wolfram!" Ingrid laughed from the high table. "It makes it more exciting when there's a little danger."

"Those could've burned the keep down."

"Relax," Aldrich said. "We moved everything out of the way."

"Come and join us." Ingrid beckoned Wolfram over.

He turned away and went through the door before she could ask him again. The laughter of the merrymakers echoed behind him. They really would burn the keep down if someone didn't stop them. They were like a gaggle of youngsters who'd broken into their father's wine cellar, except this gaggle were supposed to be in charge of the castle. Instead of going to the chapel like he'd planned, Wolfram walked past and knocked on Father Everwin's door. The chaplain must have been awake, for he answered quickly.

"Wolfram. There isn't any trouble, is there?"

Wolfram gestured to the great hall. "They're playing hoodman-blind and knocking everything over. If someone doesn't get hurt, something's going to catch fire."

"Stupid children," Everwin muttered. "I will speak with them. No one can sleep with this racket."

"Lord Erik's alone right now. We should go and speak to him. I can fetch Petra–"

"Not the time, Wolfram, not the time!" Everwin said under his breath.

Wolfram bit back a response. When would be the time? He didn't know what he could say to change the chaplain's mind, so he followed him back to the great hall.

"Enough is enough," Everwin announced, adopting the oratory tone he used when conducting service. "My lady, it is past time we were all abed. Your father will not be able to rest with this noise beneath him, to say nothing of everyone else."

There were a few murmurs of agreement from the people trying to sleep. Aldrich looked like he was about to make a sarcastic remark, but he held his tongue and looked to Ingrid. It didn't escape Wolfram's notice that his hand touched her arm when he did so.

"Please, Father," Ingrid said. "I am not a child. It is bedtime when I say it is bedtime, and I have a mind to stay up a while longer."

"This behaviour is unfitting of a lady."

Ingrid looked guilty for a moment before looking at Aldrich. A snort of laughter escaped her nose as if their shared glance revealed some hidden mirth in the situation. "If you can't sleep then you should join us."

"Don't be absurd."

"Come on, Father," Aldrich called. "Put on the hood. I bet you're better than all of us." He began beating the table with his palm, looking to the others to follow his lead as he began to chant: "Fa-ther! Fa-ther!"

The squires and servants joined in, drunkenly elated by the idea of making their stuffy priest join the game. Ingrid seemed reluctant, but as the chant grew, she took it up as well. To most of them, perhaps Ingrid included, it was a spot of good-natured fun, but Wolfram knew Aldrich and his men didn't see it that way. They wanted to humiliate Everwin in front of the castle. The chaplain stood still, his face growing red until Aldrich dragged him forward.

"Leave him be!" Wolfram said, but he was ignored. Everwin, unwilling to embarrass himself further by fighting back, was manhandled into the centre of the group and had the hood thrust over his head. The chanting and table pounding rose in volume, drowning out Everwin's protests. When he tried to remove the hood, Aldrich grabbed his hands and used a squire's belt to tie them behind his back. This was going beyond a game, but anyone who might have objected was either too drunk or too afraid to put a stop to it.

"The hood doesn't come off till you catch one of us!" Aldrich called, clapping his hands together in front of him like a houndmaster calling a dog. Everwin stumbled about in the middle of the group, struggling against his bonds as his voice rose shrilly in anger.

Wolfram noticed that Lavender had come out of the parlour to investigate the commotion. He began moving toward her when Ingrid accosted him.

"You'll have a turn next, Wolfram! I want to see you catch Aldrich. Let's see how quickly you can manage it."

"No, thank you, milady."

"But I insist."

Once again Wolfram turned away without saying anything.

"You're being very rude tonight!" Ingrid shouted, the mirth in her voice giving way to anger. Wolfram ignored her and went to Lavender.

"This is going too far," he said under his breath. "They're going to hurt him."

Lavender nodded. She looked tense and fearful. Wolfram put his arm around her and stepped behind one of the pillars, but before he could say anything Ingrid's voice rose again:

"Stop hiding there with Cat! Willulf, fetch them out here."

Willulf, Aldrich's plump-faced young crony, grinned and stepped around the pillar. He seized Lavender roughly by the arm.

"Let's make the dumb girl play next!" he called to his friends.

Willulf's pugnacious grin and the way Lavender flinched away from his touch lit a spark of anger inside Wolfram. He seized the man's hand, balled his fist, and punched him in the face. Willulf recoiled with a cry, sprawling on his back as he toppled over.

As his anger cleared, Wolfram realised there was no way of de-escalating the situation. It was only going to get worse. Aldrich and Ingrid laughed at the sight of Willulf on his back, but soon their laughter would give way to more cruelty.

Tugging Lavender after him, Wolfram hurried through the parlour door. They ran down the passageway into the ruined kitchen and stepped out into the night. The freezing air chilled Wolfram's skin, but his blood was up and his pulse pounded.

"I'm going to find Ellen and Petra and take them to see Lord Erik," he said. "This can't go on any longer. It ends tonight."

If Lavender had been shaken by what happened, she quickly recovered herself. Nodding, she tugged Wolfram out from the shadows of the half-demolished roof so that he could see her hands in the moonlight. "That man's been bothering Grace," she signed. "She's afraid of him."

"Willulf?"

Lavender nodded.

"He hasn't done anything, has he?"

"Not yet."

Wolfram grimaced. On nights like this, Aldrich's men were capable of anything. He had to confront Erik now, while everyone was drunk and distracted. But how was he going to get into the solar without Ingrid and the others stopping him? He might have gone unnoticed if he'd slipped up there earlier with Father Everwin, but he doubted it would be that easy after what had just happened. He shared his thoughts with Lavender, hoping she might have an idea.

"Fetch Dunstan from the village," she signed, "and the other soldiers. Ingrid can bully Everwin, but not them."

Wolfram nodded slowly. "Once Dunstan hears about what's happening, he won't stand for it. There might be a fight."

"You're brave," Lavender signed. "Please be careful."

"I will. We can get weapons and mail from the armoury. Aldrich always leaves it unlocked. Stay somewhere safe till it's over. You can go to the stable house." Wolfram turned in the direction of the castle gate, but Lavender tugged on his hand.

"The night watchman," she signed, then pointed at the scaffolds leading down the ruined wall. "Go that way."

He was grateful he had her good sense to guide him that night. He never would've thought to use the scaffold. That way he could sneak in and out without Aldrich's watchman raising the alarm.

Before he left, Lavender pulled at his hand one more time. She rose up on her toes and kissed him. Without thinking, he put his hand in her hair and kissed her back. There was no time for him to worry about what it meant. They broke apart a moment later, and Wolfram hurried out through the gap in the ruined wall.

The moonlight guided him down the planks and ladders on the hillside. It hadn't rained for several days, and the ground was firm and easy underfoot. It didn't take long for him to cross the path around the cesspit and clamber up the slope beyond. The trees blacked out the moonlight when he reached the castle wall, but he'd made this journey before the night he and Lavender went to rescue young Ralph. He did what he'd done that night and followed the wall with his palm until he reached the end. The open path in front of the castle gates gleamed silvery-white in the moonlight. On the off chance the night watchman might look out of his arrow slit, Wolfram stuck to the trees and crept through the undergrowth. Once he was past the gate, he began to hurry. The path down the hillside twisted back and forth beneath his boots as the lights in Firfallow drew nearer. He hoped Dunstan and the others were still staying at the same public house. Would they believe him when he told them the truth? It would all have to come out. Everything that had happened the night of Julia's death. The thought of it made Wolfram's heart race. Less than half an hour ago, he'd been sleeping quietly on the keep floor. Now he was racing down the hill, certain that this was about to become one of the most pivotal nights of his life.

His pace should have left him panting by the time he reached the village, but he was barely out of breath. He silently thanked Dunstan for his years of hard training. He would be able to run all the way back up the hill and still have energy left to fight.

The public house owner was about to lock the door when he arrived. A couple of men sat talking at one of the benches inside the building, but the other guests had all curled up on mattresses at the far end of the room. Wolfram was relieved to spot Dunstan and the others amongst them. He hurried over to his instructor and shook him by the shoulder till he stirred.

"Dunstan, wake up. It's Wolfram."

Dunstan swatted his arm away angrily. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I need you to get up and listen to me."

"What's happening?"

"Aldrich has Father Everwin tied up with a hood over his head."

That roused Dunstan from his stupor. He didn't seem like he'd been drinking, but he was obviously tired. Wolfram hoped that wouldn't be a problem later.

"Tell me," Dunstan said, picking himself up and dragging over a bench.

Wolfram roused the other men and explained what was happening at the castle. Anger quickly dispelled their weariness. All of Erik's men were proud and loyal, and they were outraged to hear what Aldrich was doing to their household.

"You know what I'd do to that spoiled little runt if I had the chance," Dunstan said. "But I can't. We've been dismissed."

"You know Lord Erik wouldn't stand for this if he wasn't drugged out of his mind. I need you to come back with me. We can sneak up the scaffolds and get weapons from the armoury. Then we'll make sure Erik ends up back in charge."

Dunstan shook his head with a scowl. "What you're talking about is treason, lad."

"Ingrid's the one guilty of turning against her father. It's her fault Julia and Robin are dead, and now she wants the barony for herself."

Dunstan's expression hardened. "What?"

Wolfram explained it all to them: the conversations he'd had with Ellen, the confession from Petra, the fight at Aldrich's house, and the threats from Ingrid that had followed. Dunstan's incredulity resolved into bitter acceptance as the tale went on.

"I knew you weren't telling the whole truth about that night," he said in a low voice. "That explains why she was so eager to get her brother disinherited. She doesn't mean to marry Ricaud at all; that's just the excuse she's giving her father. It's Aldrich she wants."

"I'll be damned if I have that man as my baron," one of the others said.

"We need to put a stop to it," said Wolfram. "Come back to the castle with me. Most of them are drunk right now. We'll take Father Everwin and Ellen Good to see Lord Erik, and we'll get Petra to confess about what happened."

"I'd rather see Ingrid confess."

Wolfram frowned. "I doubt she even thinks she did anything wrong."

"Alright," Dunstan said. "The other squires–they're not all in step with Aldrich now, are they?"

"No. Some of them get along with him, but I doubt they'll try and stop us."

"Still, we might end up drawing swords. Drunk men are reckless."

"We can handle them."

Dunstan gave him a grim smile. "Aye, I think we can." He looked to the others. "Are you all with us?"

They were.