The Lost Lady Page 18

  The other was Lord Sumerland’s companion, Lord Albin Sterling, cousin to Ladislaus, Earl of Sterling and a man known to be the Earl’s ears and eyes at court, though he had been scarce as of late, all things considered. Rumors continued to spread, and all pointed to trouble brewing in the North, and the elder Sterling was stirring the pot.

  Luveday watched the man, having overheard a bit of conversation as she brought up wine to the solar one evening. “He’s not to be trusted, Iain.” Benedict had just returned from a visit to his mother, and though the journey had taken a lot out of him, he was adamant about Albin. “Sumerland is a fool to trust anything that dog says.”

  Gregori agreed. “We know Albin carries news back to his cousin. Word has it that he is trying to see what men would be willing to rebel against the King. Ladislaus has something up his sleeve and thinks he can coerce or bribe the lords into following him.”

  The conversation had stopped as they heard her open the door. Luveday left the wine and goblets but kept what she had heard to herself.

  Tonight, the hall was packed with guests, some stayed at the keep, some at the inn and some journeyed from the Abbey. Minstrels provided music and wine improved the humors of their guests. Dinner had been a stretched affair as no one had anticipated such a turnout, but no one complained as long as their cups were full and so Luveday helped to make sure that none went dry.

  Christabel held court by the fire surrounded by a handful of men who adored her. Some even wrote her poems, though not very good ones. At least the handful in her pocket were rather contrived though the gentleman’s handwriting was rather pretty. Luveday was sick of men being too shy, or perhaps they thought themselves cunning as they slipped her missives to give to the bride-to-be. Declarations of undying love abounded, brought on by the looming wedding. No one else was embarrassed by grown men groveling at the betrothed’s feet, and so Luveday clenched her jaw and helped pass notes like she was in grammar school.

  She saw more paper passed around the hall than she thought were in the steward’s books. Luveday could only hope they had purchased the material themselves and had not raided the keeps small store.

  As she continued to fill drinks and tried to ignore the spectacle Lord Sumerland was making at the high table, Luveday was pulled suddenly to one side. It was not the first time that night that someone had drunk too much and thought to get frisky, but Luveday was surprised to see that it was someone who had not been overindulging that night. At that moment she could not remember his name, though she knew his older brother was a rather powerful man whose lands lay north and farther east and was a good friend of Iain’s.

  He pulled her down so that he could speak to her over the merry noise of the hall. “Lady, could you see that Lord Albin gets this. I hate to have to wade through all of the bride’s admirers. They look as if they might duel each other over her attentions at any moment.” He shoved something into her hand and laughed as he looked to the fools that surrounded Christabel. Luveday agreed with him, they looked as if they might kill the next man that tried to join their number.

  Luveday only glanced at the folded paper but noticed the seal on it. “As you wish, Sir. Though it may be a while for me to make my way over.”

  He nodded, as almost two dozen people stood between her and her goal. “At your earliest convenience, My Lady.” He held up his drink for it to be refilled, the first time that night and Luveday noticed he downed the cup as she walked away.

  It was some time later that she remembered the letter, taking it out of her pocket for a moment to fish out the pile of poems there. That was when she saw the writing on the letter’s face and the intricate seal on the back. The seal was cut in a jagged line across a portion of its face, giving Luveday the idea that someone already knew its contents, someone the letter had not been intended for. It looked as if the seal had been broken, but someone had tried to make it seem as if the letter had not been opened.

  Luveday had to set down the pitcher she had carried around all night. She moved into a quite nook out of the flow of the hall, and though the light was dim here, she studied the letter. The paper was course, nothing like she was used to, it was folded many times making it a small but rather thick rectangle. Luveday thought it would be easy for someone to carry it in a pocket or against their breast. The most startling thing about the letter was not the neat block handwriting or the intricacy of the seal, but that it was not addressed to Lord Albin, but to Lord Iain De Lane of Lander’s Keep from Lord Grayson Stern of Havenwood. Luveday thought quickly. The knight still watched her as she moved around the hall, and while he had had several more cups in the hour since she had been charged with the note, he had watched her intently for that length of time.

  She had to figure out what to do. As Luveday saw it, she had a few choices. She could read the letter, give it over to Albin and rely its contents to Iain. Or she could not give the letter over and draw some suspicions. She could take the thing straight to Iain and let him deal with it, but all of those options had their flaws, mostly letting the knight know that they were on to him, and not knowing why Albin was intercepting missives meant for De Lane. There was another option, but Luveday didn’t know if it would work.

  Taking out the papers in her apron pocket she folded them to resemble the letter as best she could. Going to the kitchen, she took some wax and used a bit of red spices mixed with the wax to seal the decoy letter. The new seal was very close in color to the crimson of its brother. From a distance, the two looked identical. Luveday put the real letter in her gown, stuffed between her bodice and her kirtle. The other she returned to her pocket. No one paid her any attention, though the kitchen was full. She picked up the pitcher where she had left it in the hall and continued filling cups until she finally made her way over to Christabel and Lord Albin who was installed by her side.

  She filled cups, laughed at jests she found in no way amusing and slipped the lordling the letter. He only glanced at her a moment as he put the missive aside. Luveday somehow resisted the urge to look to Iain or to the knight that had given her the letter. The night progressed, and finally, people began to find their beds. She took a tray of goblets and wine up to the solar after she had stayed in the hall long enough to see Iain, Benedict, Gregori and Sir Fuller enter the room.

  The men stopped their conversation as Luveday entered. It was the third night in a row that she had brought up the wine, though Iain had expected her to be in bed hours ago. He had not been happy that she had been commanded around the keep like some serving wench. Sumerland’s veiled comments about her made his blood boil, and he had nearly thrown father, and daughter, out of his keep. Luveday hesitated at the door, and all eyes turned to her. The expression he saw on her face had all of them troubled.

  Luveday stopped just inside the door, suddenly aware that her actions tonight could have much greater consequences than she had at first thought. Perhaps they would not be happy that she had taken matters into her own hands. Maybe they would even punish her for it, but it was too late to take it back now, and something said that what had almost transpired tonight was very important.

  “Lady Luveday?” Iain’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts, and she sat the tray down on the table before the fire. Everyone was looking at her. “Luveday?” He asked again, and their eyes met.

  She had taken the letter out of her bodice and returned it to her pocket when no one was around to see. Now she pulled it out and handed it to Iain who handed it to Gregori who was better with letters. Luveday didn’t say a word.

  “Where did you get this lady?” The monk asked.

  “That is a bit of a story, Sir Gregori.” She looked at Iain as she spoke and only glanced at the others around the table. Gregori examined the letter and seemed to notice what she had, and let Benedict see it before they continued.

  Benedict confirmed her findings. “This letter had been opened.” They looked to her. “Someone had resealed it, and done a credible job, though it’s not perfect.”
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br />   “Who is if for?” Iain asked, still watching Luveday and was surprised when she answered.

  “It’s addressed to you. From Lord Grayson Stern of Havenwood.” She said quietly. The men looked even more curious.

  “How would you know that?” Benedict asked.

  Gregori answered Benedict by simply saying, “Because the lady can read.” He had heard such from Father Quinn, but many ladies said they could read when, in fact, they could make out only a few words and letters.

  Fuller had remained silent until now. “How did you come by the missive, Lady?”

  Benedict frowned though his tone held a bit of his usual mirth. “And don’t say ‘tis a long story.”

  Luveday smiled. “I was serving wine in the hall,” the men looked as if they did not like that, but she continued, “when a man stopped me and gave me this letter to be handed over to Lord Albin.” Their expressions turned darker. “I glanced at the letter and put it in my pocket and forgot about it for over an hour. I had just refilled my pitcher when the crunch of papers in my apron distracted me.” She watched them as they watched her intently. “I had a handful of poems for Lady Christabel,” they scoffed and snorted at the mention of the love poems. She guessed the men were not as unconcerned about them as she had thought. “When I pulled them out of my pocket, I saw the letter, and clearly read for whom it was intended.”

  Iain looked at her. “Why did you not deliver the letter?” The men looked at him with degrees of impatience and a little anger.

  “Why would I deliver a letter addressed to you, to someone else, let alone Sir Albin of Sterling.” She crossed her arms in front of her, clearly showing her anger at being asked such a question, as if he questioned her loyalty.

  “So now either Albin or this knight will know that you have not delivered the letter.” He stated as Gregori finally opened the missive.

  “Not necessarily.” She said, and their eyes moved back to her. “I may have delivered something to Lord Albin that looks strikingly similar to that letter, at least similar enough if one was at a distance.”

  “You switched the letters?” Benedict had a bit of awe in his voice before he laughed at her cunning. “I knew you were too good, Lady.”

  Iain glared at her. “I told you she had overheard our conversation.”

  Gregori countered, “And I told you that Luveday could be trusted with whatever information she had gleaned.”

  Before she could become angrier, Iain redeemed himself, if only a little. “I have no doubt about that, but it is not something a woman should have to undertake.”

  “And yet I have.” She countered.

  “Where did you get the other letter, Lady?” The older knight asked.

  “There was no other letter.” She couldn’t help the smirk that rose to her lips. “I used the poems and made them look like the letter. A bit of candle wax with some red spices and it would be hard to tell the difference.”

  “Hard to tell the difference if one could not read?” Benedict asked.

  “Even if they could. Though the trouble will be if Albin was expecting the letter or not.” Luveday looked at the letter as it sat before Gregori who frowned at it and rubbed his eyes.

  Iain’s concerned gaze turned to his friend. “What is the matter, Brother?”

  Gregori sighed. “I am afraid I’ve had too many cups tonight, the words swim before my eyes.”

  Iain’s eyes move to rest on Luveday, who picked up the letter and turned slightly towards the fireplace to take advantage of its light.

  “To Lord Iain De Lane of Lander’s Keep, Loyal Knight, and Champion to King Edward the third of Anora. From your friend and distant relative, Lord Grayson Stern of Havenwood in the High North. I hope this letter finds you and your household well, and that you have settled into your estate since last, we spoke. Word has reached the North that Lander’s Keep has returned to its former glory and I know of no one more deserving of such a gem than you, De Lane. I also wish to renew the promises I made before you and our King. Should trouble start in the North, you and his majesty will have my sword and my men at your immediate disposal. Long live the King.” Luveday shuffled the papers to read the next page. “Rumors abound, and one cannot gauge how true their content, and I ask that you return any news so that Havenwood might be of service when the time comes. Sterling grows bolder every day, and there are more rumors of men joining his cause. Money had changed hands, and I fear this bodes ill for the King.” She moved to the next page. “I am unsure about the loyalty of my neighbors, all except Lord Frazier have publicly voiced their displeasure with the King at one time or another. Please send word for any you may vouch for, I gather our enemy will move as the days turn colder, hopefully not before the harvests are in. I hate to say such a thing, but I fear your wedding may have to be postponed until this matter is settled. There is word that the King travels north. Should he rest at your house, please convey these words and warnings. We would not want a repeat of Jasper’s Woods. I pray my troubles prove fruitless, for all our sakes. Give my sincere affections to Lady Emmalyn and Elysant. And I hope to visit you after the wedding, at least to meet…” Luveday paused and looked to Iain, and back to the paper before continuing, “at least to meet Lady Luveday, whom I have heard so much about. You have all the luck when it comes to women, my friend.” She almost laughed at that. “God Bless, your faithful friend, Lord Grayson Stern. dated: The sixth day after the summer solstice, the merry month of Tem.” Luveday handed over the letter.

  “So, the letter is rather recent.” Benedict was the first to speak. “You read very well, Lady.”

  “Lord Grayson has very nice handwriting,” was all she said.

  Iain had not stopped watching her since she began the letter. “Do you remember who gave it to you?”

  “Do you have someone in mind, Iain?” Benedict inquired.

  Luveday could point him out, but could not remember his name, and said as much. “I know what he looks like, but I cannot recall his name, though I remember being introduced to him.” She looked away, trying to jog her memory. “There was something about his demeanor that I thought was ironic, as it so reflected his manner.” She shook her head, not believing the bit of information that sprung to mind. “I am not sure,” she hesitated. “I cannot be sure but is there a knight from Havenwood here. Could he be related to Stern?” Iain nodded. “I remember thinking that his expression was very dower and too serious compared to his companions, and how appropriate it was to his last name, how could I have forgotten Sir Stern?” She thought harder. “Was it, Patrick? Or was his name… I know it started with a P. Patrick, Piers, maybe Peter?” Fuller growled as the men exchanged looks that spoke volumes as if they hesitated to speak of anything in her presence, which only irritated her more.

  “Sir Peter Stern is currently under our roof, I believe he is staying in the under-gallery with Sir John Templeton. They are old friends. The boy trained under him.”

  Gregori looked at Iain. “Are we suggesting that Peter Stern is betraying the King and his lord, his own brother?” No one spoke to deny the accusations.

  Luveday asked what was on her mind, determined to be part of the conversation. “Why would he not hand over the letter to you? I am assuming his brother sent it with him.” Luveday looked at each man in turn. “What would he have to gain by joining Sterling?”

  Fuller spoke as the other’s contemplated this latest betrayal. “Sir Peter is Grayson’s younger brother, though more than a decade separates them.” The knight poured the wine and took a drink. “Should his brother die, the title and all the lands would fall to him.”

  Luveday nodded. “So, if there is a skirmish or battle in the North, and Sterling can somehow guarantee Lord Grayson’s death, then Sir Peter inherits the lands and Sterling has a loyal follower that appears to be on the King’s side. Or should Sterling prevail…”

  Iain finished the thought for her, though he had almost as much trouble voicing it as she did. “Then Sir Peter would have
proved his loyalty to the new King and secured his positions, with or without his brother’s death.”

  Fuller gulped down more wine. “This is a nasty business, this is.”

  “Aye,” Gregori seconded.

  Benedict rang in, with his thoughts. “Grayson mentioned money and Jasper’s Woods.”

  “Aye,” Iain said. “I caught that.”

  “You know what that means.” Luveday had never seen such a dark look cross Benedict’s golden features.

  Gregori shuddered. “Jasper’s Wood. Mercenaries.”

  Luveday gasp. The air in the room turned bleak. “Mercenaries?”

  Fuller growled and a dog stirred by the fire. “‘Tis not a tale to be repeating to a lady.” Luveday watched Gregori take a long drink. The monk was clearly upset.

  Iain looked from his friend to the lady. “There was an ambush.”

  “De Lane!” Benedict said his name in warning, agreeing with Fuller. It was not a story to be repeated in front of a lady, especially not soft-hearted Luveday.

  Luveday understood. They had lost too much at Jasper’s Wood. “Is he warning you about the mercenaries or the ambush, or maybe both?”

  They turned to her, once again surprised by her insight. Benedict rubbed his chin. “‘Tis best to think it’s both.” Gregori only nodded.

  Iain looked up at her. “’Tis past time you went to bed, Lady.” He cut off her protests. “Dawn is almost here, get what rest you can. Tomorrow we watch and wait for our enemy’s next move.”

  Luveday couldn’t argue. A new day would bring a world of work, and watching this new foe was one more task she would undertake. She wished them a good night and sought her bed. Despite her worries, she was asleep soon after.