Chapter Twenty-two

For our fathers have trespassed, and done that which was evil in the eyes of the Lord our God, and have forsaken him, and have turned away their faces from the habitation of the Lord, and turned their backs.

2 Chronicles 29:6

A few hours later, a dusty and dirt-covered Theo, Gouch and Darrin had removed his mother’s gravestone and hauled out her coffin. It had not been an easy feat. Father Chabot had already pronounced Darrin’s soul doomed for hell’s fire for desecrating a tomb. And doubly so for causing such destruction in a chapel of the Lord. Nun stood by shaking her head and saying prayers over and over again. But Darrin could not hide his enthusiasm and anticipation.

Grabbing a pick, he quickly pried off the lid, ignoring the strain in his shoulder. The gasps that left everyone’s lips were Darrin’s affirmation. The coffin was empty. “As I expected,” he said triumphantly, though a small ache began to grow in his heart. His father had sent his mother away after she had given him a son.

Faith, who resembled a marble angel through the whole ordeal, dropped to her knees and peered deeper into the coffin, as if the body would magically appear. “I do not understand. How could this be?”

“The note gave me the clue. I had always thought my father carved those words because my mother had died young. But when I saw the note, I wondered if he had meant something else.” Darrin placed his hands on his hips. “She didn’t die. She left.”

All in the chapel started talking at once and Darrin held up his hands to gain silence.

“Then what happened to her?” Faith asked.

Darrin’s gaze slid to Nun. “That is a good question.”

“What? You look to me.” Nun thumped her chest. “I didn’t even know your mother. I came to this château two years after your mother’s death.”

Darrin narrowed his gaze. “Aye, but mayhap you knew my mother when she entered the convent.”

“Entered the convent? What kind of drivel is this?” Nun cried.

Theo chuckled and jabbed Gouch in the ribs. “This is getting better and better.”

Darrin frowned and handed Theo the pick, while Gouch leaned against the chapel wall.

“Nay, that cannot be right.” Faith rose to her feet. “Sir Jean was getting coin from the convent, to pay for my keep. If Lady Angelina were living there, wouldn’t Sir Jean be paying the convent? Or if my care was given for her care, then no coin would have exchanged hands. Nay, you cannot be right, unless…”

Faith turned pure white and stumbled backward. Darrin caught her about the wrist, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. “Faith, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes were wide with fear, as if she had seen the spirit of death. She placed her other hand to her head. “I have been struck with a terrible headache. I need to lie down.”

“Then I shall take you up to your chamber,” Darrin said.

Faith’s body tensed when he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She tried to pull away. “Nay, you must stay here and work this out with Nun—”

“Me? I have naught to say,” Nun said, coming toward Faith. “I shall take you upstairs while this fool figures out his words are nonsense.”

Faith pulled away from Darrin and held up a hand to Nun. “Stay. I do not need you. Father Chabot can escort me to my chamber.”

Disappointment shone on the priest’s face, for clearly he was more interested in the mystery of Lady Angelina than taking Faith to her room, but he relented with a nod of the head.

Nun rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “I’d be better off with you, but if you prefer Father Chabot, then I shall stay and listen to what other stories your husband can come up with.”

A bizarre gasp left Faith’s lips as she took the priest’s arm. Concern pushed away Darrin’s personal thoughts. His gaze followed her out the chapel. Something had frightened Faith. Surely she had not figured out her parentage? Yet something had upset her. Though Darrin wanted to soothe her, first he had to deal with the problem before him.

“Well, Nun. What do you have to say? Do I speak the truth? Did you know my mother?”

Like a sharp arrow, Nun turned and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I thought a man of your age would have outgrown silly notions. I have never met your mother. I’m here because…” She threw up her hands and let out a cry of exasperation. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Oh, but he would. But he wasn’t ready for Gouch and Theo to learn that Faith was King Richard’s legitimate heir. “If my mother didn’t go to the convent, where did she go?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, but she might have gone… She might have found…” Gouch cleared his throat and coughed.

“Out with it, man.”

“Well…” Gouch stretched his neck to the left and then to the right.

“Well, what?” Darrin asked, his patience thinning.

Theo threw the pick over his shoulder. “She might go to her lover.”

Nun gasped and Darrin felt his gut drop to the ground. A lover! Never would he have thought such. Would a mother give up her son for a lover? The years of his childhood rushed painfully though his mind. He did not have a single loving memory of his mother. He spent most of his youth with servants. He balled his hands into fists and headed to the chapel door. Aye. She would.

* * *

That eve, Darrin sat in a corner of the great hall with a pitcher of wine and a goblet. He had started the day with optimism, hoping to solve many mysteries, but by its end, he only uncovered more secrets that had no answers. Plus, to make things worse, Faith had come up with a few conclusions of her own.

After leaving the chapel earlier, he had gone to her chamber to check on her condition. But when he entered, she turned away, claiming she was still in the throes of a painful headache. Her shaky voice and sniffs bespoke of another condition—Faith had been crying. Darrin came to the bed and sat.

“Faith, what is truly bothering you?”

With red-rimmed eyes, she turned to face him. “We must have our marriage annulled.”

A few weeks ago, her words might have filled him with merriment, but now, he had hoped she had grown a little fond of him as he had of her. But then, perhaps he had been making this journey alone. A hard stone settled in his stomach “Why the sudden change? I had thought you were willing to become my wife…in all things?”

Tears rushed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook. “Don’t you see? If your mother was sent to the Abbey of Sainte-Marie-des-Dames and then four years later I returned, it is because we are brother and sister. Our mother must have died and they sent me back here.”

It took Darrin a few moments to process the preposterous tale that had grown out of Faith’s mind. He shook his head and reached for her hand, which she quickly pulled away. “Nay, that is foolishness. Why would the convent then be paying my father for your keep if you are my sister? You have jumped to the wrong conclusion, just as I have.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “I have always thought Nun knew something of my parents though she claimed not. This would explain why she always changed the subject when I would bring it up and why your father never wanted us to get too close.”

He should tell her the truth right now, but he feared she would want the annulment all the more and then his chances of keeping Château du Vent Doux would be lost. And he could not let that happen. Besides, for some reason, the thought of losing Faith held little appeal. “That does not make sense. If that were true, my father would not have sent my mother away. Plus, I was six when she left and eight when you came with Nun. We are four years apart. If you were my sister, we would only be two years apart.”

Faith pulled the coverlet tightly around her. “Mayhap she was not pregnant when she left. Mayhap we have different fathers.”

So even Faith had thought his mother had left of her own accord. That she had found another who she was willing to sacrifice her son to be with. No wonder his father was such a cold, hard man. The woman he loved had deserted him, or had his coldness sent her to the arms of another man? Darrin would never know.

“It makes sense. When our mother died, my father, whoever he may be, paid your father for my keep.”

Darrin washed his hands over his face. “If that were true, do you really believe my father would have taken my mother’s love child to raise?”

“But the money,” Faith said feebly.

“You know as well as I, my father did not need the extra coin. Rest assured, we are not related. Though I do believe my mother did indeed have a lover, one she was willing to leave her young son for.” Darrin reached over and brushed away the tears on Faith’s cheeks. “Talk to Nun. She will set your fears to rest on this matter.”

He stayed with her until sleep chased away all her doubts. Hopefully, Nun would reveal the truth to Faith, then it would not matter who was trying to sabotage the château. Faith would leave of her own accord and the château would fall to whomever King John deemed fit. Justice—for not telling Faith the truth.

Now here he sat, in the shadows of the hall, pondering what he should do next. Darrin took a heavy pull from the goblet, wiped his lips and then let his gaze roam about the hall. Sir Rollin and other knights sat near the hearth, eating fowl and laughing as if they had conquered all of France. As much as Darrin loved Château du Vent Doux, the life of a hearth knight did have its merits. The simple life, like he had in the English forest. Might that have been the life God had always intended him to have? He had responsibilities there, but they seemed minor compared to the workings of a château. But he had made his decision to return home and here he would live or die. There was no turning back.

Darrin’s brooding broke when Theo strode into the hall and immediately grabbed a half a chicken and a cup of wine. With little effort, he spotted Darrin and waltzed over.

“Why are you sitting in the corner like a forlorn maiden?” Theo tore off a hunk of chicken with his teeth.

“I can think better here,” Darrin said, taking another drink of wine.

Theo placed his own cup on the floor and dragged over a stool. Once seated, he sunk his teeth into the chicken again, the grease dripping down his clean tunic.

“Watch it, Lady Faith will not give you her favor if you turn back into a stinking pig again.”

Theo chuckled. “Speak for yourself. You smell riper than a pile of cow dung.”

True. Darrin still had not bathed since the fire. Nor did he feel the desire to do so. “With you and Gouch smelling like a bunch of roses, someone has to be the mange mutt.”

Finishing off his chicken, Theo tossed the bones to a pair of dogs and then wiped his greasy hands on his tunic. “Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”

Darrin lifted the pitcher to fill his goblet and Theo’s again. “Leave off. I just found out my mother deserted me as a child and I’m no closer to finding out who is causing all the havoc at the château.”

“Ah, let me cry for you. The tough man of the forest turned into a whining babe. My mother had a gaggle of children before me. Think she wanted me?” Theo waved about. “Everyone here has a sad tale to tell. God created us for a reason and only he knows why. We live, we die. And if God sees fit, we will go to heaven.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Well, then, that is a trouble.” Theo raised his cup and bumped it next to Darrin’s. “Come now. We shall drink to better days ahead, for as you said, things around here could not get worse.”

Darrin took another hardy drink. “I can’t help but think that the answer is right before us.”

“So how fares Lady Faith? Is she well?” Theo asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Aye, she is fine.”

“In the chapel, she looked whiter than Nun’s wimple.”

Darrin laughed. “When I thought my mother went off to the convent, Faith got the crazy notion that my mother was her mother. She believed we were brother and sister. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?”

Slowly, Theo turned his head and stared at Darrin. “What did you say?”

“She thought we were brother and sister. Absurd. I can assure you that is quite impossible.”

Theo’s gaze held steady, as if he were trying to puzzle out some newfound knowledge.

Darrin finally punched him in the arm. “What is a matter with you?”

Startled back to reality, Theo downed the contents of his cup and then stared toward the hearth. “Just looking at your pretty eyes. We shall speak later. I need to warm my bones.” With that, he rose and strode over to where Sir Rollin stood.

Alone again, Darrin took another long pull of wine, letting the red liquid spread a hazy warmth throughout his body, dulling his senses. Exhaustion from the last two days had finally taken its toll. He closed his eyes and did not open them until the fire in the hearth was naught but embers. Knights, servants and a few peasants had all taken to their pallets. Darrin thought he should do the same. He rose and stumbled up the stone tower steps, but he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Sleep came fast and his dreams were a mishmash of the past and the present woven together. He pictured his mother leaving him, not as a boy but as a man. I will always love you wherever I go. Do not forget me.

Darrin woke, drenched in sweat. Were those words truth or just want? As hard as he tried, he could not find the answer in his mind. He tossed to his side and stared at the waning moonlight filtering in through the small window. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, God. If you are there, please give me some answers.”

He had barely finished his last word when a loud cry was heard from outside the château walls, the echo of horses galloping in the distance. Darrin sprung to his feet and grabbed his sword. A babble of voices filled the hall and a young, pale knight came racing forward. “My Lord, come quick. It is Sir Theodore.”

Darrin raced out in the bailey, heading for the gate before the knight could add another word. Near the left wall, he saw Theo lying on the ground, broken and bent, half his face smashed in. “What happened?” Darrin asked the knight.

The youthful knight paled all the more. “I-I think he fell, sir.”

Darrin’s gaze drifted upward at the high battlement wall. No man would just carelessly fall over the edge, and Theo, being a seasoned knight, would have been very cautious.

Nun pushed through the small crowd that was forming around Theo and knelt. She clicked her tongue several times as she examined the injured knight. “Methinks he was pushed and fell on his right side, crushing it to bits.” She held her hand by his nose and mouth. “Yet he still lives.” She looked up at a few servants. “Quickly, help me get him inside.”

Darrin reached out and put his hand on her sleeve. “Will he live?”

She shrugged. “Only God knows.”

The servants brought out a large coverlet and carefully lifted Theo onto the cloth. But as they took hold of his body, Theo cried out. “Darrin. Where are you?”

Rapidly, Darrin rushed to his side, taking Theo’s left hand in his. “I am here. Try not to talk.”

Theo coughed and tried to work his injured mouth. “I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.” A fit of coughs and wheezes overtook Theo.

“Shh, worry not. We will talk later.”

“Nay!” Theo squeezed Darrin’s hand with incredible strength. “Faith. Rollin has Faith.” His hand relaxed and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Get him inside,” Darrin roared. His gut dropped and rocked to the floor of his stomach. With lightning speed, he ran back into the château, into the great hall, taking the tower steps two at a time. The door to Faith’s chamber lay wide open and she was nowhere to be found.