Myles couldn’t disagree with him. “But until we know for sure, you must tread very carefully,” he said. “If Blackchurch has turned, and your cousin knows about it, then your life might be in danger for asking questions. They may want to silence you, and we are talking about Blackchurch trainers. They can silence you twenty different ways, and you would never see it coming, so be cautious. Your father does not need a dead son, nor does mine.”
That was the truth. The methods that Blackchurch taught would give even Executioner Knights nightmares. “I’ll be careful,” Brenton said. “But if the dispatch is a forgery, why? Who would do this to discredit Blackchurch?”
Myles shrugged. “Who knows?” he said. “They’ve accumulated their share of enemies over the years, so it could be anyone. I might start by questioning Lord Sidbury. He’s the one who produced the missive, or so Alaric said. WhereisAlaric, by the way?”
“In the river with the friend who attacked him.”
“That was wise. We don’t need that foolish man running his mouth off about this.”
“My thinking exactly.”
After downing the rest of the wine in short order, Myles and Brenton were out of the tavern and heading to the livery. Within the hour, they were on the road to Devon with the alleged royal dispatch from Louis VIII of France safely tucked into Brenton’s saddlebag.
He was going to get to the bottom of this.
Or else.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blackchurch Guild
“Here he comes,”Athdara said, glancing up from the garment she was sewing. “I can tell you exactly what he’s going to say.”
Sitting next to her, Gisele kept her head down, focused on her work, but she was biting her lip to keep from laughing.
“Greetings, ladies,” she said, imitating a male voice. “’Tis a lovely day! I hope you are in good health. Have you seen my wife?”
Athdara snorted, though she was trying very hard not to laugh. “Exactly,” she said, sewing furiously and pretending to be busy. “Those are his exact words.”
“I’ve never seen a man so stupidly happy in my life!”
Athdara couldn’t help it now. She started laughing, head lowered so no one would see. She almost couldn’t speak when Creston walked up, beaming from ear to ear.
“Greetings, ladies,” he said, waving. “’Tis a lovely day!”
Athdara had to take a deep breath. “It is,” she agreed with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. “So very lovely.”
Creston nodded. “I hope you are both in good health.”
“Verily,” Gisele said, struggling to keep a straight face. “And you?”
“Excellent health, thank you,” he said. “Have you seen my wife?”
Athdara’s lips buzzed together as she tried to hold in the laughter, but Gisele wasn’t so adept. She started chuckling, shaking her head at Creston and his very predictable conversation. It had been this way ever since he’d married Ophelia, and in spite of their laughter, they thought it was very sweet. He was ridiculously happy and didn’t care who knew it. From a man who had reluctantly entered into a forced marriage to a husband who couldn’t be away from his wife more than an hour or two without greatly missing her, the progression of Creston de Royans from hardened warrior to sickly-sweet husband was truly astonishing.
“She told me to tell you that she’s run off with a pirate,” Gisele said. “She’s tired of being deliriously happy all of the time and she’s tired of you being so kind to her. You chased her away with your joy, Creston.”
He fought off a smile. “That is a pity,” he said. Then he sighed dramatically. “Well, I did not much like her, anyway. I suppose I’ll get over it.”
Athdara burst out laughing, loudly this time. “Surely you jest,” she said. “Creston, you are the sweetest, stickiest, sappiest man I’ve ever come across. You make happiness a new art form. Your wife was here a little while ago, but she’s gone back to your cottage to make you supper because she knows you will be tired and hungry returning from your recruits.”
Creston grinned. “She is rather wonderful that way.”
“She is,” Athdara agreed. “She’s as sickly sweet as you are.”
Creston laughed softly. “Good,” he said. “Then we shall be insufferable together.”
With that, he left the women, listening to them laugh. It was at his expense, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that lovely woman in the cottage up ahead. The days were longer this time of year, so the sun was sitting low in the afternoon as he approached, noting Sinclair off to his right as he returned to his cottage and his young son greeted him.
