Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

" A gain," Sir Eamon called to a young knight, perhaps the youngest at Blackwood. What he lacked in experience, the baron's son brought to their order in a cunning mind and strong bow aim. Aside from their archery instructor and Darien, the young man's skills with the bow were as impressive as Alden had ever seen.

As their swords clashed, so did Alden and Roland's. Since the two friends had been placed on different instruction tracks, Alden had been more often training with Darien. Today, however, after their Strategies instruction was canceled, all were on the training field together.

"Good," he heard Eamon yell before their instructor came into view.

"Balance and footwork, maintain your stance. Roland, anticipate. Very good."

Roland was more skilled than he with the sword. Alden was stronger. Both played to their strengths. "You must anticipate him, Alden," Eamon said, moving along.

"Tell me your next move," Alden teased between strikes, "so I may anticipate it more easily."

"I will do so if you simply lighten your blows," he replied. "My arm is finished with this fight even if my mind is not."

"Draw?" Alden asked.

"Draw," Roland agreed.

Both men stopped even as the sound of swords clanging all around them continued. As Roland wiped sweat from his brow, Alden assessed the field. There were perhaps twenty men, along with their instructor. Farther along, closer to the inner bailey's wall, was the archery field.

Since last eve, Alden's mind had not stopped assessing every person he encountered. Pushing aside the thought of being alone with Lady Elara once again this evening, he concentrated instead on the possibility of a traitor among them. Wishing he could confide in Roland, Alden sheathed his sword.

"What do you know of Stirling?" he asked, continuing to watch the archers.

He and Roland stepped to the side of the training field, where their leather waterskins sat alongside their other belongings.

"We've discussed the man before," Roland said. "Nothing more than that."

Unfortunately Alden had not been attempting to root out a traitor among them when they'd discussed the archery instructor previously.

"He and Lady Elara do not appear to get on well."

Roland side-eyed him. Fully aware it was not possible to disappear after the evening meal more than a day or so, he was resigned to lean into the idea that he and Lady Elara were engaging in a romantic relationship. That she hinted at the idea shocked Alden less than how much he wished it were true. Nevertheless, with his two friends at least, there was a high likelihood he would be forced to lie to them about his true purpose.

"Nay," he said, "they do not."

Alden waited.

Roland did not disappoint.

"Your interest in her has not waned, then?"

"I've never admitted such an interest."

"You did not need to do so."

"We were talking of Lord Stirling," Alden reminded him.

"Ooo." Roland winced as Aldric Langley was knocked to the ground. "That will hurt in the morn. As for Stirling, he comes from a long line of nobles, always favored until now by the crown. His distaste for King Stephen, along with a deep-seated resentment toward the courtly intrigues and manipulative politics that pervaded the royal court, eventually had him disinherited. But you know all of this already."

"He was one of the original founders of the Guardians of the Sacred Oak."

"Aye."

"But says little outside of lessons."

"His reputation as a stoic man is well-earned."

"Hmm."

A man who lost his inheritance for not supporting the crown could not be counted as a prime suspect for being the traitor. Unless circumstances had drastically changed...

"We've more to worry about than Stirling."

Alden's head turned toward his friend. Indeed, much more. Did Roland know something?

"Such as?"

"Such as how long we will remain at Blackwood, idle. With Stephen continuing to be held prisoner and Matilda in hiding, summer will likely turn into fall and winter."

"You've good friends with whom to visit the village tavern, some of the most skilled men in England with whom to train, and a wife to warm your bed if such an occasion comes to pass. Do you truly consider it such a hardship?"

"Say as much to my father who wrote just yesterday with wishes for me to return home."

Roland's father, the earl of de Vere, did not agree with his decision to fight against the king's reign in this way. Eventually, however, all nobles would be made to choose sides if they had not already. It was for this reason the order and their identities were kept secret. If the traitor intended to do so, he or she could easily bring down some of the most powerful families in England, like the deVeres, whose split loyalty could see families disinherited, or worse.

Like Stirling.

Alden continued to watch the man from across the training field. Perhaps he had become disenfranchised at seeing men like Roland, who kept their land and inheritance while he'd been unable to do so.

"You're much too serious for a day such as this one," Gareth said, approaching them. "The sun is shining, unlikely as it may be. No serious injuries today."

"Yet," Roland added.

Gareth grinned. "Darien has just finished our lesson but wishes for a few more passes."

Alden and Roland exchanged a glance. Alden put his hands in the air. "Not I."

Roland's shoulders fell in defeat. Glaring at Gareth as if it were his fault their friend wished to joust, he stomped away as if he were a young boy who was told he could not keep a dog that had been found astray.

"Darien hates the joust," Alden said when Roland left.

"Aye, and could use the riding drills. Besides, I wished to speak with you alone."

Alden had assumed it was Gareth's true purpose for sending Roland away.

"I'd have come to you last eve," Alden said, "but did not wish to disturb you and Evelina."

"No matter. I've agreed not to pursue the matter, as have the others, leaving it to Lady Elara."

"Surely we can speak to each other about it?"

"Perhaps, though we must be discreet."

"Do you have any thoughts on who it might be?"

"None," Gareth admitted. "But I've no doubt in Elara's abilities to uncover the truth. Will the damage be done already, though?"

"I worry for Roland, especially. He has the most to lose."

Of the four of them, in any case. There were many here who stood to lose as much, or more, as their friend if the order or its members were discovered.

"As do I. They were so careful in recruiting us. How could such a thing have happened?"

"I do not know, but am determined to find out."

"How will you meet with her without the others noticing?"

Alden gave Gareth a sideways glance. "There is a secret passageway to her chamber. We will meet each night after the meal."

Smiling, Gareth whistled.

"Do not," Alden warned him.

"I hope you do not plan to conceal such a fact from the others? They will know before long."

"We are prepared for that eventuality."

Gareth laughed aloud then. "Does she have any notion of your feelings toward her? 'Tis the height of irony, is it not?"

"Nay. And aye, but I do not need you to point out the fact as we've more serious matters at hand."

"Including"—Gareth nodded toward the entrance to their training field—"the very woman in question who comes toward us. And she does not look pleased."

Alden spied her at the same time as Gareth. It was difficult to miss the sight of Lady Elara in a deep green gown, its gold threaded embellishments glimmering in the midday sun.

"Nay," he agreed, begrudgingly. "She does not."