Sweet Bea. Sarah Hegger

would Faye’s husband not know she is here? Faye never did anything without approval. She’d been Sir Arthur’s flawless older daughter, married brilliantly, and spent her days being Calder’s perfect wife and mother to his heirs.

      “You might have thought of that before you rushed heedlessly for Anglesea.”

      Boots rapped against the floor.

      Beatrice wanted to smack Henry for speaking thus to Faye. She held her breath to hear Faye’s response.

      “I needed to warn you of what Calder plans.”

      “I understand, Faye, but by being here you have placed us all in danger. Calder will come for you.”

      “He will not come for me.”

      “He will come for his boys then.” Henry could be such pompous oaf at times.

      “Whist, children,” Godfrey chided. “We have enough trouble without fighting amongst ourselves.”

      Beatrice wanted to cheer her uncle.

      “Can you pay the sum your father is being accused of stealing?”

      Fabric rustled in the silence. Henry spoke. “Nay. I would not do it, regardless. It goes against everything in me to pay money to that thieving scoundrel.”

      “That thieving scoundrel,” said Godfrey, “is your king. I would have a care how you speak of him. Especially if you do so where people can hear.”

      “Nobody is listening now,” Henry grumbled, his voice growing softer as footsteps moved away.

      I am. Only part of the conversation made sense to her. The king had accused her father of stealing money. It was preposterous. Anyone who knew Sir Arthur would recognize the idea as ludicrous. The king knew her father. He’d been great favorite with King John. Then something had happened. She didn’t rightly recall because she had been a few years younger, but she did remember her father’s anger and lots of visitors coming to the castle to speak with him.

      Mostly what she remembered of that time was her betrothal. The first of the three. And how it had ended. It was one of the first times her father had ever raised his voice to her. She shouldn’t have punched Ralph in the nose, but he had pulled her hair.

      “What of Calder?” Godfrey asked.

      She would’ve asked about that before now.

      “Calder is King John’s man,” Faye replied. “He plans to stand with the king against father.”

      “Calder has joined sides with the king?” Godfrey asked. “This is a surprise.”

      It was indeed.

      The footsteps approached again, tapping quickly as their owner paced, probably Henry.

      “Aye,” Faye said. “He despises the French. He would lief see the king keep his throne than see it given to a Frenchman.”

      “We all despise the bloody French.” Godfrey chuckled. “But they are a necessary evil. After seeing how he ousted John at Bouvines, King Philip may have the might to tip this in our favor.”

      “Still.” Henry made a noise in the back of his throat expressive of his displeasure. He normally saved those for when she was in sight. “I had not thought to see the day we would offer our throne to a Frenchman.”

      “Like many, I do not see the alternative,” Godfrey said. A chair creaked. “John’s reign is a disaster. Richard was bad enough with his incessant wars. He nearly made beggars of the lot of us. The timing is diabolically clever,” Godfrey continued. “You are shorthanded here. Your father left you only enough men to hold the keep. Calder has the perfect excuse to lay siege here.”

      “I had to come,” Faye said. “Calder is changed. He is not the man I married.”

      “But he is still your husband.” Henry’s voice grew louder as he paced nearer.

      Beatrice stepped back from the tapestry.

      “And Sir Arthur is still my father,” Faye said. “You know what the king’s court is like. Calder has become one of them. He has threatened to put me aside and take my children from me.”

      Beatrice gasped, then clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. It was unthinkable, putting aside Faye and taking her boys.

      “The boys are his children too, Faye.”

      Beatrice wanted to rush from her hiding place and hit Henry. How could he say such a thing to Faye? Her sister adored her children.

      “You would countenance a mother being separated from her children?” Faye’s voice shook, but like their mother, she never shouted. “You would stand by whilst my children are taken from me?”

      “Mama,” Simon wailed.

      Beatrice’s heart went out to him.

      “Hush, sweeting,” Faye said. “Sir Gregory?”

      “Aye, my lady,” he murmured.

      Simon stilled.

      “I did not say that.” Henry sounded chastised. And rightly so. “I am merely trying to point out how precarious our position is now that you are here.”

      More pacing.

      “I know, Henry. And you must believe I would not have come here, unless it were my last resort,” Faye said wearily.

      “We understand.” Godfrey spread oil over troubled waters. “And nobody will allow your children to be taken from you. Least of all your father.”

      “But Father is not here,” Faye said with a small catch in her voice.

      He should be. If her father were here, he would deal with all of this. He was Sir Arthur of Anglesea, legendary knight of the realm. Not many would stand against such might.

      “And our mother cannot know,” Henry said.

      “How is she?” Faye asked.

      “She is not faring well.” Henry spoke heavily. “This will not help.”

      For once, she agreed with Henry. If there was trouble, their mother mustn’t be burdened with it.

      “Then, she must not know,” Faye said. “I will make up an excuse for my presence here.”

      “And what if the king forces these charges? What if he distrains our property?” Henry demanded. A boot scraped against the floor. Henry could never sit still. “We could lose everything. Father could return from London to find his land forfeit and his castle razed. Mother’s health could not withstand such a burden.”

      Beatrice stopped her careful inching away from the tapestry.

      “Surely, it is not that bad?” Godfrey said.

      Fabric rustled, and then Henry spoke. “Nurse is very concerned.”

      Faye made a soft noise of distress. Light footsteps were followed by the grate of a bench on stone.

      “We will all pray for the safe delivery of her babe,” Godfrey replied. “In the meantime, we need to keep your presence here as quiet as possible. I would counsel you to do nothing. Arthur is needed in London. Men look to him for leadership. I am sure a solution will come to us.”

      “What of Beatrice?” Faye asked. “We will have to tell her something.”

      “We will tell Beatrice only what we want her to know,” Henry said. “She understands nothing of these matters. God knows what she would do if we trusted her with something like this.”

      The tapestry moved suddenly.

      Beatrice leapt back a step, but not quick enough.

      Sir Gregory loomed over her.

      Good Lord, he was huge. And his shoulders? They blocked out