Chapter 23

Wolfram sat on the bench outside Lord Erik's sickroom with his longsword across his knees, ready to guard the door against anyone who tried to get in. But Ingrid didn't appear in the solar, nor did any of Aldrich's men. Gavin and Ben arrived carrying swords, sent up on Dunstan's instructions. They didn't understand what was going on, but Wolfram explained that it would make sense soon. All they needed to know for now was that Aldrich had been dealt with.

Lavender returned with a bowl of water soon after. Ellen Good followed her with a cup of steaming tea in her hands and her satchel over her shoulder. Lavender took the water and tea in for Father Everwin while Ellen set about stitching Wolfram's arm. She bathed the wound in warm wine to clean it before sewing the flesh together with a curved needle and applying a dressing. Oddly, it hurt more than the cut had in the middle of the fight. By the time she was done, Dunstan had arrived, limping up the stairs with a mortified-looking Petra in tow. He sent Gavin and Ben back down to the hall.

"Well then," he said gruffly. "Are we all ready for this?"

Wolfram nodded.

Dunstan looked at Lavender. "Does she need to be here?"

She made a series of signs that Wolfram roughly translated: "I told her everything when I was recovering in the cottage. She can testify that I didn't make it up a few days ago."

"Alright then. Is the baron sober enough to hear us out, Everwin?"

"As sober as he reasonably can be."

"That'll have to do."

They filed into the room and stood at the foot of Lord Erik's bed. He was looking more presentable now, sitting up against the headboard with his face washed and his hair combed back. He still seemed groggy, but the hand clutching his cup of tea was steady when he brought it to his lips.

"Everwin tells me there was a fight. What's been going on?"

They explained it. It was a complex story to put together, and there were many sides that needed telling. They began with Aldrich's presence in the castle and the trouble he'd been causing. Lord Erik's face coloured with anger as he listened. Whatever Ingrid had been telling him, it clearly hadn't been the truth. Then came the difficult part of explaining his daughter's betrayal. Ellen described her suspicions about the circumstances of Julia's death and the implausibility of a woman dying in such an unusual manner after she gave birth. Petra began to weep when Dunstan prompted her to confess. She fell to her knees at the foot of the bed and begged for forgiveness. She claimed she hadn't known the sleeping root would kill Julia; she'd only done as Lady Ingrid instructed. She had prayed ever since, and her conscience could no longer bear the burden.

Wolfram suspected her conscience would have endured just fine had Father Everwin not agitated it, but he still felt pity for the girl. Stuck-up though she was, Petra's only real crime was being loyal to a fault. He believed her when she said she hadn't understood what she was doing.

Erik was not so forgiving. "How dare you try to blame this on my daughter! Your own mistress!"

"My lord," Father Everwin said. "She is telling the truth. There is more yet to tell."

"I don't believe it. Ingrid would never do something so vile."

Wolfram wondered whether he heard doubt in Erik's voice, or if the baron was just upset and confused. Petra's confession had moved him, just as Father Everwin anticipated, but would it be enough?

Wolfram gave his account next. Lord Erik's gaze felt like a sword hanging over his neck. He seemed to be growing angrier by the second, but he didn't interrupt. Wolfram refrained from mentioning exactly what had happened in the bedroom of Aldrich's house, but he did admit that Ingrid had tried to seduce him. It was a necessary detail to corroborate the threats she'd made later.

"This is nonsense, all nonsense!" Erik exclaimed when Wolfram reached the end of his story. "You have misunderstood. This reeks of Aldrich Merchant's scheming. I want him brought up here immediately."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, my lord." Wolfram's mouth felt dry. "He's dead."

"Then fetch my daughter so she can defend herself!"

"We're looking for her," said Dunstan, "but she's run off somewhere. That isn't the act of an innocent woman."

"It is the act of a woman whose home has been invaded by armed men!"

Wolfram's hopes were dimming fast. The baron's denial was stronger than he'd expected. Perhaps that was where Ingrid got it from. He seemed resolved to believe in his daughter's innocence no matter how many trusted subjects told him otherwise. He was an ageing man, lonely and disconsolate, and he couldn't accept that his closest living relative had betrayed him.

"I won't hear another word of this until I speak with Ingrid. Find her and bring her to me."

"You're not listening to sense–" Dunstan began, but Erik shouted over him.

"Don't speak to me about sense, Dunstan! Is it not sensible for a lord to hear all sides of a story before he passes judgement?"

"Anything she tells you will be a lie," Wolfram said. "She twists things around. She makes you think she cares, then she thrusts in the knife."

"Get out!" Erik bellowed.

Father Everwin ushered them all back into the solar. Wolfram's spirits were as low as they'd ever been. Nothing Ingrid said to her father could possibly improve the situation. She knew exactly how to pull his strings. She'd find a way to plead her innocence, probably by pinning the blame on Petra and Aldrich. Perhaps Dunstan and the others would be forgiven for their reckless actions that night, but Ingrid would tell her own version of what had happened at Aldrich's house, and it would be her word against Wolfram's. If she got the chance to speak to her father alone, he was done for. He paced up and down the solar, not knowing what to do.

Lavender touched his shoulder. "Sit down," she signed. "You'll make your arm worse."

"I can't."

She put herself in front of him and tugged resolutely on his sleeve until he did it anyway.

"Cat," Dunstan said. "Come and help us search. We need to find Lady Ingrid. Wolf, you stay here and watch the baron."

"I can help too."

"Wounded men get guard duty. I'll be keeping an eye on Aldrich's lot downstairs."

Lavender squeezed Wolfram's hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting up to leave. "It'll be alright," she signed.

Wolfram forced a half-smile. He couldn't see how, but he didn't want her worrying about him.

"Ellen," Father Everwin said. "Do you have anything that might sober the baron up more quickly?"

"I could make some more tea."

"Please do. I fear this will be a long night."

Soon Wolfram was alone in the solar. Everwin checked on Lord Erik once more, then went downstairs to tend the men who'd been injured in the fighting. Wolfram got up and began pacing again. He'd taken off his mail and gambeson when Ellen stitched him, but the material of his shirt still rubbed on the dressing uncomfortably. He couldn't stand guard at a time like this. He wanted to search for Ingrid with the others. It looked like the upstairs rooms had already been checked, for every door in the solar was ajar, but he searched them just in case. Most of the rooms were unfamiliar to him. Erik's main bedchamber was thick with furs and hunting trophies, while Ingrid's had a beautiful tapestry of a horse on the wall and silk curtains around the bed. Julia's, dusty and neglected, was far humbler. A book still lay on the table. Perhaps she'd been reading it the day she died. Close to the stairs, there was a second small chapel for the noble family, a separate parlour with a long table, and several guest rooms; far too much space for a household as small as Erik's. Perhaps one day the castle would be packed and bustling again. Wolfram would have liked to see that, but he doubted it would happen now.

To keep himself busy, he went through all the rooms once more, checking under beds, behind screens, even lifting some of the wall hangings. He'd almost exhausted his search when he heard Lord Erik calling from the sickroom. He hurried back through the solar and cracked the door open.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Is that Wolfram?"

"It is."

"Come in here where I can see you."

He entered, avoiding eye contact as he stood a few paces away from the bed, hands clasped behind his back. To his relief, Lord Erik seemed to have calmed down.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Wolfram," the baron said slowly. "I don't believe Everwin and Dunstan would lie to me, but they're not infallible. Where are they, anyway?"

"Downstairs, my lord. Would you like me to fetch them?"

Erik looked like he might be about to say yes, but instead he sighed. "Never mind."

When he was not immediately dismissed, Wolfram worked up the courage to say: "Lady Ingrid isn't infallible, either."

"I know. She's a wily girl. But she's no murderer."

"I'm sure she thinks so, too. Robin always said the best lies are the ones people believe when they tell them."

"I told you I don't want to hear any more of this until I've spoken to Ingrid."

It was all Wolfram could do to hold his tongue. He could see the doubt written all over Erik's face. He seemed terrified by the possibility that Wolfram and the others might be telling the truth, and behind that fear was a dark and terrible anger. Wolfram had heard tales of mad kings committing unspeakable acts when their subjects betrayed them. Was the truth too much for a beaten and bloodied man like Erik to bear?

"I've changed my mind," the baron said at length. "Send me Everwin."

"Right away, my lord." Wolfram bowed and backed out of the room.

He was about to close the door when a rattle sounded from his left. Someone was unlocking the door that led to the top of the lavender wall. At this time of year, it was covered with a heavy drape to keep out the draft. Wolfram picked up his sword and moved quickly to the other side. No one had any reason to be sneaking in that way, not unless they wanted to get into Erik's room without going through the great hall.

Wolfram held very still as the door opened. The drape lifted, and Lady Ingrid stepped through. She was shivering, her wind-tangled hair dancing about her shoulders as the draft followed her in. She must have been hiding out on the wall this whole time. In her hand, she clutched a soft leather bag tied shut with a drawstring. It looked like the ones Ellen kept her remedies in.

Wolfram took a step towards her, and a board creaked beneath his boot. Ingrid spun around, her eyes widening with fright. The bag fell to the floor and a knife appeared in her hand.

"Ingrid!" Wolfram exclaimed as she took a panicked swipe at him. He snatched at her wrist, caught it, and twisted. She dropped the knife with a cry of pain. Her free hand came up to claw at his face. Not wanting to use his sword, he let go of her and stepped back before her nails could dig in. She turned and ran back through the door.

"Ingrid!" Wolfram repeated as he followed her onto the ramparts. "What are you doing?!"

Brilliant moonlight illuminated the top of the wall as Ingrid ran a dozen paces and climbed up into the gap between two of the battlements. She looked back at Wolfram, her whole body swaying in the wind. Tears ran down her face.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll jump!"

Wolfram stopped where he was. The lavender wall dropped away sharply beneath Ingrid's feet, meeting the steep, rocky hillside where it ended. No one could survive such a fall. For all he despised Ingrid, Wolfram wasn't sure he wanted her to die. Perhaps it was pity, fear, or a twinge of the infatuation he'd once felt for her, but he put down his sword and held up his hands in front of him.

"Don't be foolish, my lady."

"You've ruined everything!" she sobbed. "I thought you loved me!"

"Do you really believe that?"

The moonlight glistened on her tears. She looked out despairingly over the precipice before her. It was now or never. If she could admit what she'd done, there might yet be hope for both of them.

"We told your father everything," Wolfram said. "He knows what happened the night Julia died. Petra's going to take the blame if you don't."

"I don't care!"

"She doesn't deserve that."

"I don't care! What about what I deserve?!" Her face was full of bitterness as she clung to the crenelations. "He was going to make me marry Lord Ricaud! I'd have had to leave my home and have that awful man's children, just so that Julia could take over my castle!"

"Julia wasn't trying to do that."

"Shut up, Wolfram! You don't know! I love Aldrich, and I'm going to marry him no matter what any of them say!"

Wolfram inched a half-pace forward, his thoughts racing. He desperately wanted to understand Ingrid. Perhaps that was the only way he could get through to her. "So, you only pretended you were interested in marrying Ricaud so that Erik would disinherit Julia's son?"

"That's right. Then Aldrich and I could've been baron and baroness. But you've spoilt it!"

"You didn't have to do all this. You could've told your father you didn't want to marry Ricaud."

"You don't know! " Ingrid wailed at him. "He never wanted me spending time with Aldrich ever since we were children! Oh, it was alright for me to play with the quaint little merchant's son when we were visiting the village, but he was never allowed up to the castle, was he? Not unless he was petitioning my father at court. But Aldrich showed him. He showed my father how a man should take charge of his estate."

"He hurt a lot of people. Do you think that's fair?"

"I don't know–I never had anything to do with that!"

Wolfram felt his face warming with indignation. "What about Robin?"

"I told them not to go too far! If I hadn't been there, it would've been far worse!"

"If you hadn't been there, it never would've happened at all! And the way you treated me?" His temper was getting the better of him, all the buried feelings of that night rushing back to the surface, cutting into him like needles in the freezing wind. "Do you know how that feels? To think you love someone, and then have them treat you like a dog?"

He wanted an admission of guilt, a twinge of remorse, but Ingrid only scowled at him.

"I thought you'd be grateful. I really liked you, Wolfram. But you're too stupid to understand anything."

He let out a short breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a wicked person."

"And you really are just a dog."

Wolfram's fury seemed hopeless. Ingrid couldn't admit she was wrong. He could rush forward right now, push her off the edge, and end it all. People might even think she'd done it herself.

His anger shrivelled up in an instant. The thought of doing something so selfish sickened him. That was the sort of cowardice people like Ingrid and Aldrich resorted to when things didn't go their way. Did they have to live with that sickening feeling day in, day out? Or were they somehow immune to it? Somewhere, deep down, he felt sure that Ingrid must be in turmoil. He wanted to pity her, but what was the point in pitying someone who refused to change?

The sound of shuffling feet behind him tore his attention away from Ingrid. Leaning heavily on the wall, Lord Erik emerged from the shadows around the solar door. How long had he been standing there? His face was cast in shadow, his expression unreadable. He approached until he was level with Wolfram and gripped his arm for support.

"So, it's all true, then?" His voice was dull and heavy.

Ingrid's eyes darted about like a cornered animal.

"Answer me!" Erik shouted over the wind.

Ingrid flinched. "What do you think?!"

"I didn't hear you deny anything Wolfram just said. You've been lying to me. You want your little brother out of the way and the shire for yourself."

"He's not my brother! I want Elkinshire for me and Aldrich both! He deserves it more than you ever did. You never had to work for your money like him. No one told you who you could and couldn't marry!" Ingrid spat each word with unwavering malice. "You'll be dead in a few years, then I'll marry him. We'll have the estate no matter what. Even if you disown me, we'll find a way."

"Your brother will inherit the estate," Erik said, taking another step forward. Wolfram was tense as a whipcord. He hadn't been able to sway Ingrid into a change of heart, but he'd inadvertently exposed her in front of her father.

"I hate being your daughter! When you're dead, I'll have your body dumped in a river. There won't even be a priest to perform the rites!"

"That's enough, Ingrid."

She laughed in Lord Erik's face. "You're not really powerful, you know! You're a weak old man. It's only idiots like Wolfram who keep you in charge. I could've slipped you some extra sleeping root any time I wanted. No one would've suspected a thing. I'm the lord of this castle now, not you."

Erik stopped in front of her. She stared down from her step on the battlements. Even with her hair tangling in the wind and her face marred by anger, there was still a cold beauty to her. It made Wolfram sad to think it had been wasted on such an ugly soul.

Erik reached out his hand. Ingrid slapped it away and spat in his face. Erik grabbed her by the wrist.

Wolfram would never be certain of what happened next. Someone pushed, and someone pulled. For a heartbeat, one of them had wanted Ingrid to fall. A heartbeat was all it took. Ingrid's foot slipped from the battlements. Erik's grip on her wrist faltered, and her hand twisted free. She fell from the lavender wall without a sound. For a second, only the gusting of the wind could be heard, then there was a dull thump.

Wolfram looked at Erik, frozen in shock. The baron stared over the battlements, gazing down at the spot where his daughter had fallen. The night seemed to stand still, only the fir branches rustling in the wind.

When Erik eventually spoke, he sounded dazed, like a man waking from a long sleep.

"Would you help me downstairs, Wolfram?"

Wolfram stepped forward and offered the baron his arm. There was no mistaking the look Erik gave him.

Neither of them could ever speak of what had happened out here on the wall.