Chapter 24

Lady Ingrid's body was buried the following afternoon. She had run off in the chaos and taken a fall down the hillside; that was what Lord Erik told the monks, and no one presumed to question him. Wolfram declined to attend the funeral. He was too weary, and his arm ached. Ingrid had already caused him enough restlessness to last a lifetime. Whether or not she'd deserved his pity in the end wasn't a question he could answer. He wasn't made for such complex thoughts. For once, everything was simple again, and it was like lying down at the end of a long day.

There were many difficult questions to be answered in the following weeks. Was there to be an inquest into the deaths of the men who'd been killed? Who did the money belong to that was now being used to repair the wall? Would Aldrich's mother raise hell over what had happened?

Fortunately for Wolfram, wiser men than him were tasked with navigating those issues. Lord Erik assured him that he would face no charges for his part in the fighting. He'd been a soldier defending his lord's castle from an attempted insurrection. No court would convict him, not even if Aldrich's mother bribed every official in the county.

There were several court meetings held at the castle and down in the village, but Wolfram's presence was only ever required to confirm Dunstan's accounts of what had happened. With his arm in a sling, he went back to cleaning swords, mending mail, brushing horses, and helping in the parlour kitchen. Lavender cut up all his meals for him, even though he insisted he could do it himself. She fussed over him whenever she wasn't busy, and eventually he stopped caring about the ribbing the other squires gave him for it. He didn't mind being teased for something he secretly enjoyed.

By the time Wolfram's wound healed, most of the chaos had been resolved. Aldrich's mother planned to leave Elkinshire and take her business with her. His surviving accomplices had all been tried, some of them for further crimes in addition to what had happened at the castle. They'd been preying on the people of Elkinshire for a long time now, and without Aldrich to protect them, many past grievances resurfaced. There were numerous fines, several floggings, and a few hangings. One way or another, it didn't seem like Aldrich's cronies would be causing any more trouble in Elkinshire.

The financial damage of losing Isabella Merchant's business would be a bitter blow to the estate, Father Everwin said, but now that Lord Erik's rents were being collected in full, they could recover from it. Over the next few years, the castle would begin to prosper again.

Lord Erik himself had changed, there was no denying that. Everyone who spoke to him noted the difference. There was a coldness in him now, a lack of joviality that concerned some, but it was undercut with the focus of a man determined to see one last duty through to the end.

Julia's son was brought back to the castle along with his nurse. Erik named the infant Julian, after his mother, and spent a great deal of time making preparations for the boy's future. He was adamant that Julian should have a fine estate and a strong legacy to inherit when he came of age. Perhaps he felt guilty over Ingrid's death. Perhaps he resented her for what she'd tried to do. Perhaps he was just ready to embrace the one part of Julia that was still with him. Again, those were questions Wolfram was content to let other people ponder. He was just glad that Lord Erik had some of his old fire back. Even a man who had lost everything could still find fresh purpose in life.

The next year was a good one. Spring arrived early, and Wolfram's duties began taking him away from the castle again. He still trained and exercised with the other squires, but for all intents and purposes, he now served as one of the baron's men-at-arms. When the rents were due, he rode out to collect them. When Erik's knights had grievances that required intervention, he donned his mail and put himself at their disposal. Twice that year he rode out to track down thieves who had made outlaws of themselves. Unlike his ill-fated expedition with Aldrich, the culprits were apprehended without violence and made to stand fair trial. Wolfram felt proud to be upholding justice in the shire, and Lavender was equally proud of him when he came home to tell her about it.

Since the kiss they'd shared, Wolfram couldn't deny their relationship any longer. He and Lavender were a courting couple. Everyone in the castle knew it. As the months passed, Meg talked often about how they would be obliged to marry as soon as Wolfram was knighted. It was her way of implying that she would never forgive him if he broke her niece's heart.

Truthfully, he was glad that his knighthood still seemed a long way off, for his feelings about Lavender remained muddled. He felt very tenderly towards her. There was no one in the world he preferred spending time with. When the weather was fine, they had supper and played board games in the old cottage. They walked hand in hand on the hillside. When Wolfram could sneak her away from the castle, they went riding across the countryside and perused the village markets, spending spare pennies on treats and trinkets for each other.

And yet, Wolfram couldn't feel the same maddening passion for Lavender that he'd felt for Ingrid. He didn't think he could feel that way about anyone anymore. As the seasons passed, he began to believe that Ingrid had ruined his ability to love. As happy as he was, that thought remained a constant weight in the pit of his stomach. It was as if she'd left a curse on him the night she fell from the wall. He and Lavender still hadn't slept together, even though they'd had many opportunities. He could tell she wanted to. Some evenings in the cottage, she would cuddle up against him, kiss his neck, and touch him through his clothing. It did excite him, but it felt different somehow, and that was confusing. He was afraid of repeating what had happened with Ingrid, so he contented himself with kisses and nothing more, and Lavender seemed to accept that they wouldn't make love until they were married. Men and women weren't supposed to, after all, even though that standard of spiritual purity was rarely adhered to in practice.

When winter came around again, a little over a year since the night of Ingrid's death, Wolfram returned from an errand he'd been running for Sir Robert to find an important summons waiting for him at the castle. It was a snowy day, one of the first that season, and soft white domes had appeared on every upward-facing surface in the courtyard. Wolfram reined his horse in near the stable and brushed the powder of snowflakes from his cloak. The scaffolds around the north wall weren't being worked on at the moment, and with the snow lying undisturbed, every pole and plank looked like part of a delicate white sculpture perched over the new kitchen. It would be at least another year before the wall was repaired, but the kitchen had been finished a few months ago. Lavender would be in there now, working hard with Meg to prepare supper.

"Baron wants to see you, Wolf," Dunstan said as he walked by, tugging at the fingers of a pair of mittens young Julian's nurse had made for him.

Wolfram swung himself out of the saddle and felt the satisfying crunch of his boots sinking into inch-deep snow. "What about?"

"Go in and find out. You won't want to keep him waiting."

Intrigued, Wolfram decided to forgo warming himself up by the kitchen ovens and headed straight for the keep. The great hall was noisy with chatter. Most people were inside due to the weather, but the squires were hurrying through their chores so they could go outside and have snowball fights later.

Lord Erik stood at the high table alongside Father Everwin and a neatly dressed man Wolfram vaguely remembered seeing at court. They were perusing a collection of documents laid out in front of them while Everwin and the other man wrote something with quills. Ink and parchment only came out when important matters were afoot. Wolfram stepped forward, resting a hand on his sword belt as he made a bow at the foot of the high table.

"You wanted to see me, my lord?"

"Come up here," Erik motioned him over. Wolfram approached and looked at the documents. It was difficult to make out what they said from the far side of the table, but one seemed to be a list of property with valuations attached.

Father Everwin said: "Sir Daniel from Crescentfield passed away two days ago. We've been considering the future of his estate."

"That can't be," Wolfram said. "I saw him just last week. He seemed healthy as ever."

"But he was old," said Erik. "Old men can drop dead on a whim, especially in weather like this. The point is, he's gone, and I need someone to take over his estate."

A tickle of excitement flared in Wolfram's chest. "Doesn't he have any family?"

"A wife and two daughters, neither of them wed. We shan't leave them out in the cold, but that estate needs a lord. They'll be dependents of the manor for the foreseeable future. It's not a rich holding. Not much to manage there, either. I expect you'll only need to visit when the villagers hold court."

"I'm to be the new lord of Crescentfield?" Wolfram asked, still not daring to believe it.

Erik looked up at him. "Who else?"

"I'm not the eldest of your squires."

"But you're the one who saved my castle, aren't you?"

"I'd credit that more to Dunstan."

"Well I can't make him a knight, can I?" Erik said impatiently. "If the king needs men to go to war, I'll be sending you, and for that you'll need money. You're my choice, Wolfram. We'll make a ceremony of it sometime in the spring. Something to let the county know Elkinshire has fresh young blood in the saddle. Until then, you can start familiarising yourself with Crescentfield and your new duties. Jack here can furnish you with the details." He gestured to the neatly dressed man, who looked up from his quill and offered Wolfram a deferential smile.

"You'll be entitled to a tithe from the village and the manor house there."

"I'd prefer to let Sir Daniel's family keep their home," Wolfram said.

"That is your right. As Lord Erik said, you shouldn't be obliged to visit very often if you would prefer to live elsewhere."

"I can't have a knight sleeping in my parlour," said Erik. "You'll have to take a house for yourself."

Wolfram nodded absentmindedly, still too overwhelmed by the news to worry about where he'd be living. All his aspirations were finally coming true. He was going to be a knight by the time he was twenty. He couldn't wait to tell Lavender. When Erik dismissed him, he hurried out through the parlour, grinning at the other squires as they congratulated him on his knighthood. The news must have gotten around before he returned. Some of the older lads seemed a little jealous, but they offered their best wishes all the same. They knew Wolfram had distinguished himself in a way no one else could compete with.

Once he'd extricated himself from the group of wellwishers, he hurried down the passageway to the kitchen. He found Lavender chopping leeks with her back to him. He waited till she put down her knife, then grabbed her around the waist from behind.

"Guess who it is," he said, unable to restrain the excitement in his voice. Lavender squirmed out of his grasp and gave him an exasperated look. "Go on, guess."

Adding a universally rude gesture to the motion, she signed: "Wolfram."

He shook his head. "Try again."

"An idiot."

"That's no way to address Sir Wolfram of Elkinshire."

"We don't have to call you milord just yet," Meg put in. From her tone, it sounded like she'd heard the news as well. "Not till it's official."

"I wouldn't want you calling me that anyway. It'd be strange."

"No stranger than calling little Cat milady."

"Can I borrow her for a bit? She's finished chopping her leeks."

Meg waved them off. "Go on, then. It's not as if I'll be able to say no to you much longer."

Wolfram took Lavender's hand and led her outside. The snow was falling again, but there was no wind. It was a beautiful winter's day.

"Can you believe it's finally happened?" he said.

Lavender was all smiles. "When will we be married?" she signed.

For the first time since receiving the good news, Wolfram's enthusiasm curdled. He'd forgotten. Now he was going to have to confront the one thing that had been bothering him all year. Lavender noticed his change in mood, and her expression fell.

"Will you marry me?" she signed.

"Yes," Wolfram said firmly. "It's the right thing to do." He realised too late that he'd made it sound like an obligation. Lavender looked heartbroken.

"Don't you love me?"

Wolfram opened his mouth to speak, but the answer was too complicated to put into words. He needed time to think, but his silence only made it worse.

"Am I too humble?" Lavender signed. "Too plain?"

"No, I don't care about that."

Lavender stamped her foot in the snow. "Then what? Explain yourself."

Wolfram took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. Lavender gave him time. He had to be honest with her. It was the only way.

"I do love you," he began. "I love you like you're my best friend. You are. And I'd love you as a wife, too, as best I could. But I don't know if that's enough. It isn't–" He started to falter, looking away from her as his face warmed with shame. "I used to think about sleeping with Ingrid all the time. It kept me awake at night. But after what happened with her, I can't think about women that way. I wouldn't want to think about you like that. I'm afraid it would all go wrong."

Lavender took his hand and made him meet her gaze. She gave him a very patient look as if she was struggling not to reprimand him for saying something stupid.

"What do you think love is?" she signed.

He opened his mouth to reply, then shrugged. How could he put something like that into words?

"Did you ever think about taking walks with Ingrid? Going to market with her? Telling her about your day? Or did you only think about sex?"

Wolfram finally started to see what she was getting at. She seemed far older than him in that moment, mature in ways he was not.

"Your first crush isn't love," Lavender explained. "What we have is. I know it. I wouldn't want a man who thought about me the way you used to think about Ingrid. You should marry me because you want to live your life with me, not because you want to sleep with me."

Relief washed over Wolfram, so powerful and unexpected that he felt foolish for ever having doubted himself. "That is what I want."

Lavender smiled fondly at him. "You're very brave. But you can be so sweet and silly."

"Well, I suppose that's why I need you. To tell me when I'm being an idiot."

They embraced. Speckles of snow fell upon Lavender's dark hair as she buried herself in the warmth of his cloak. Just like that, with a few simple words, she'd taken the edge off a pain that had been needling him for months. He resolved never to hide anything from her again. A person could build walls in their mind that seemed impassable from the inside, yet a single tap from a friend was all it took to break them down. Lavender always had a way of making him feel better about himself.

He still doubted. He worried that he wouldn't make a good husband, that he wouldn't love Lavender the way she deserved, that their romance might somehow be false because it wasn't like the boyish fantasies he'd had about Ingrid. But he trusted Lavender, and she said what they had was enough. When Wolfram thought about it that way, he felt the same. He wasn't sure how long it would take for his doubts to fade entirely, but he wanted to believe that they would. He was tired of being afraid of something that might not exist.

"I'm so glad to have you," he said softly.

Lavender drew away and signed: "Me too." Her eyes were dewy with emotion. "I never thought I could have a husband like you."

"Well, you deserve it, Lady Lavender of Elkinshire."

She brought her hand to her mouth, rocking back and forth with a thin rush of laughter. Wolfram grinned. They would be a lord and lady.

"I haven't a clue where we're going to live," he said. "Lord Erik says I need a house of my own. I suppose we'll have to find something in Firfallow. I don't want to move all the way to Crescentfield."

"What about the cottage?" Lavender signed.

"That's not much of a lord's manor."

"We could get it repaired. Build new rooms and a little garden. We'd have the money. It could be a proper manor house in time."

Wolfram nodded, already liking the idea. "I don't think Lord Erik would object. We'd still basically be living at the castle."

"And that way I could stay with Meg and help in the kitchen."

"Are you sure?"

Lavender nodded firmly. "Plenty of knight's wives help with things like that. I enjoy cooking."

"If that's what you want. Maybe we'll have a kitchen and servants of our own someday, then you can be the one in charge of everyone."

"I'd have to teach them to understand me first."

"You could do it. You taught me, didn't you? They'd have to listen to the lady of the manor."

They took a little walk as they talked, leaving twin trails of footprints behind them as they made a circuit of the courtyard. They passed by Dunstan and Gavin, who were busy pulling nails out of a rotten old fence by the armoury so it could be dismantled. Dunstan handed his pair of pliers to Gavin and gave Wolfram an almost nonchalant nod. The thinnest of smiles hid behind his stubble. As casually as if he'd been addressing any passing noble, he acknowledged Wolfram with a simple: "Milord."

Gavin didn't even look up to see who it was. A grin spread across Wolfram's face, but Dunstan was already turning away, gripping the top of a post with his mittens so Gavin could yank out another plank. Wolfram resisted the urge to say anything. Dunstan was a man of few words. Just one had been enough.

They climbed the steps that led to the top of the lavender wall. They were away from the keep end, far from the place Ingrid had fallen. From where they stood, they could see all of Firfallow covered in snow. They watched in silence for a while, enjoying the beautiful patterns of the snowflakes twirling in the air around them.

"What do you think our wedding will be like?" Lavender signed.

"I haven't thought about it."

"We could do it tomorrow. Father Everwin could marry us."

Wolfram shook his head, but not because he was reluctant this time. "It should be a proper wedding."

Lavender looked pleased. "I didn't think you'd want anything special."

"I don't, really, but you do. You took such good care of me when I was hurt. I want to do something special for you now. I'll save up some money after I'm knighted. We'll have a feast and a minstrel and fine new clothes."

"And your family should be there, too."

"Oh, yes! I want you to meet my mother. She'd like you."

"I want to meet them all."

Wolfram put his arm around her, and she leaned in against his side.

"Don't be too eager to run off to war," Lavender signed. "You've got other things to care about now."

She was right. Wolfram still had his aspirations of riding into battle against the king's enemies; his years at the Lavender Castle had proven that knighthood was his calling. But it was no longer the only thing that mattered to him. He wanted to be a good friend, a loyal servant, and a loving husband.

"I know." He kissed her snow-flecked hair. "I'm all yours."