Lavenders wolf, p.20
Lavender's Wolf, page 20
“We'll have to go up the wall and see where it landed tomorrow,” Edmund said.
Wolfram nodded, still watching the remaining tree. There was no question of climbing the wall right now. The battlements were low, and they had a reputation for crumbling when people leaned on them. The top of the north wall looked like a mouth full of worn-down teeth.
It wasn't long before the second tree followed. Wolfram was shivering in the wind, but he didn't want to go inside until the spectacle was over. This time the sound of tearing roots was audible all the way across the courtyard. The tree's position shifted abruptly, followed by a distant rattling noise like an avalanche of pebbles.
“Here it goes,” Wolfram said. The next time the wind gusted, the tree lurched out of sight. Then the whole wall moved. The sight was so alien to Wolfram that he didn't understand what was happening at first. A roar of falling earth and rock sounded from the far side of the wall as its stones sagged outwards two-thirds of the way along. The old mortar split apart as the rubble core began to tumble free, dragging more stones along with it until an entire section of the battlements caved in.
“Oh, God,” Wolfram said, taking a step forward as he stared in horror. The tree's roots must have disturbed the ground near the wall's foundation. Now the old stones were crashing like thunder as they fell down the hill, the wall twisting outward and inward in two different directions at once. Most of the masonry went over the edge of the hill, but towards the castle's northeastern corner it began plummeting into the courtyard. Wolfram's heart leapt with fear as a huge stone fell, rolled, and smashed one of the corners off the wellhouse. Another cascade of masonry followed, demolishing the pantry and the eastern end of the kitchen in an instant. A cry of anguish burst from Wolfram's throat as he ran forward. Lavender and the others were in there! He stopped short before his haste got the better of him, realising he would be killed if he went near the wall while it was still collapsing. An enormous v-shaped hole had opened up in the stonework, spanning from the midpoint to the cesspit at the east corner. The keep at the west end of the wall had survived untouched, but the kitchen building was in shambles. Some of the falling stones had punched holes in the roof, but most had rolled into the back wall and smashed it apart, causing the structure to slump downwards at one end like a flattened loaf.
Wolfram could still hear stones rattling down the hillside, but he couldn't wait any longer. He dropped his bundle and ran towards what had once been the kitchen door. The frame still stood, but the door itself had been smashed to splinters when a heavy roof beam fell across it. Wolfram ducked beneath the beam and coughed as a mouthful of dust and smoke entered his lungs. He could hear people calling out in confusion to his left. Someone was wailing in pain. If Lavender was hurt, she wouldn't be able to call for help.
Trying not to panic, Wolfram stumbled his way forward, keeping his head low to avoid the sagging ceiling that sloped across this part of the building. It was hard to see anything with so much smoke and dust in the air. Glowing coals from the cooking hearth had scattered all over the floor, sparking murky fires where they'd found things to ignite
“Who's hurt?” he called into the fog. When no one answered him, he hurried forward, kicking burning coals out of his way as he made for the undamaged end of the building. “Meg? Are you in here?”
A plump hand grabbed his arm.
“Wolf, oh hell and heavens!”
“Was anyone in the pantry?”
“I don't think so.”
Now that his eyes were adjusting, Wolfram could see some of the kitchen servants near the keep passageway. The woman crying in pain was being helped to her feet by the others. From the way she was clutching her arm, it looked like it was broken. There was no sign of Lavender.
“Where's Lavender?” he asked, fighting his rising fear.
“What?”
“Cat!” Wolfram had to shout to be heard. The wind was still shaking the roof hard, and with the building damaged, he suspected there was a very real chance of it collapsing completely.
Meg went to the others, touching each of their shoulders in turn as they helped their injured companion into the passageway.
“She's not here. Her and Grace. Oh, I think they were down the other end!” There was disbelief in her voice. Wolfram didn't want to believe it either, but he knew he had to act fast if there was any hope of saving them.
“Go and get some help,” he told Meg, then covered his mouth with his cloak and hurried back into the smoky, dusty collapse. While the walls of the kitchen were stone, the roof was a wooden vault covered in slate tiles. The beams had fallen in when the wall came down, jutting in all directions as they propped up bits of the ceiling like stilts beneath a misshapen stage. Wolfram climbed over a fallen beam, navigating via a shaft of light that shone through a tear in the roof. He had to duck down to go any further. A fallen tile snapped beneath his boot. One of the beams shifted unsettlingly when he put his hand against it. He drew back, fearing that the ceiling might come down on him. When it didn't, he edged forward again. A banging noise drew his attention to the left. He'd been hearing it for a while now, but he'd assumed it was the rattle of falling tiles or more debris from the wall. But this noise was steady and rhythmic, and it was coming from within the kitchen. He got down on his hands and knees and peered beneath a beam that had fallen diagonally against the collapsed wall.
There, hunched beside a pile of rubble, was Lavender, one of her boots clutched in her hand as she rapped the heel on the floor. Her fearful eyes stared back at Wolfram as he crawled closer, pressing his body flat against the floor to reach her. There was no time for his relief to register. Lavender was trapped in a hunched position, her shoulders pushing up against a beam that had toppled against the rubble. From the way it was shifting, it looked like it would fall the second she moved.
Wolfram held out his hand to her. “Do you think you can get out?”
She shook her head rapidly. There was just enough light for Wolfram to make out the sign she made with her fingers: “Not me.” She pointed beneath her elbow into the space behind her. Wolfram edged closer and saw another person trapped in the collapse. It was Grace.
“Is she alive?”
“I don't know.”
There was no way Lavender could move without the beam crushing Grace. Her shoulders were shaking with the effort, her expression pained and her breathing laboured. Wolfram squeezed himself into the space beside her and took the weight of the beam on his shoulder. There was a rattling sound as the roof shifted above them.
“Let me take the weight,” Wolfram said. “See if you can pull Grace out past me.
Lavender gripped his thigh for support as she worked her body out of the cramped space, struggling to get herself free without disturbing the wreckage any further. The full length of the beam pressed down on Wolfram's shoulders. Its weight drove a huff of breath from his lungs, but he braced his knees and pushed back.
Unable to guide him verbally, Lavender tugged at his arms and legs, adjusting his position until she had room to squeeze past and get hold of Grace's shoulders. Supporting the other woman's head with one arm, she hooked the other around her torso and wiggled backwards through the gap between Wolfram's legs.
“Take her to the other end of the kitchen,” Wolfram said. “You'll be safe in the passageway.”
Lavender shook her head, unwilling to leave him. She grabbed a loose stone from the fallen wall and pushed it across the floor, wedging it beneath the low end of the beam. The support took a little strain off Wolfram's muscles, but it wasn't enough for him to let go.
A sudden clamour of voices broke out on the other side of the wreckage.
“Who's in here? Does anyone need help?”
“Over here!” Wolfram yelled. “Be careful! Don't touch anything, or the roof will fall!”
A face appeared behind Lavender. It was Edmund the stablehand. He reached forward and helped Lavender lift Grace free of the wreckage. Dunstan and another man crawled into the low space alongside Wolfram.
“Is there anyone else in here?” Dunstan asked.
“No, just Lavender and Grace.”
“That beam's going to fall. Hold it a moment longer. The rest of you, get clear!” Dunstan began following Lavender's example, collecting stones small enough to wedge beneath the fallen beam so there would be something to support it when Wolfram let go. Wolfram's muscles were burning by the time he was done. Carefully, he lowered his shoulders a fraction of an inch. He felt some greater weight shifting at the other end of the beam, but there was no rattle of rubble or groaning wood. Dunstan backed away and held out a hand to him. Wolfram grasped it, then lowered his shoulders until the piled stones took the weight of the beam. He gave Dunstan a nod, and with a mighty heave, he pulled him out of the cramped space. Wolfram's knees skidded through broken tiles and powdered mortar as the roof sagged behind him. They wasted no time seeing whether the pile of stones would hold. Staggering to their feet, they hurried back through the mess of fallen beams until they reached the far end of the kitchen. Lavender and the others had Grace sitting upright against the wall. She looked dazed and in pain, but her eyes were open. When Lavender saw Wolfram, she threw her arms around him.
“Everyone out,” Dunstan barked. “It isn't safe in here.”
Wolfram squeezed Lavender against his chest. She felt so slight in his arms. He was amazed she'd been able to hold the beam as long as she did. The others had doused the scattered coals, so there was no more risk of the building igniting. The group made their way down the passageway to the keep where a small crowd tended the injured. There were several cuts, bruises, and a couple of broken bones, but by some miracle no one had been killed.
Lavender was still clinging to Wolfram when they reached the great hall. Her dark hair was covered in a powder of yellowish-grey mortar dust. Wolfram expected he looked much the same. People were staring, but he didn't want to let go of her. After the shock of what had just happened, he needed her comfort. He needed to hold her in his arms and remind himself that she was still alive. From the way she was holding him, she felt the same way. When the stones fell on the kitchen, Wolfram had felt like the world was slipping out from under him, threatening another bereavement like Robin and Julia all over again. But Lavender was still here. They still had each other.
A stir of commotion drew Wolfram's attention to the main door. The drapes flew aside as the rest of the stablers came in carrying a body on a large cloak. He was breathing, but there was blood on his tunic, and when they set him down he let out a miserably weak groan of pain.
It was Lord Erik.
Chapter 19
Father Everwin and the physician monks from the village didn't know whether Lord Erik would survive. He'd been on his way back from the latrine when the wall fell, directly beneath the eastern end of the collapse. None of the big stones hit him, but a battering of rubble from the wall's core had knocked him to the ground and broken his ribs. Father Everwin said there might be internal damage, for the baron had been coughing blood when they found him. If that were the case, it was in God's hands whether he lived or died.
The castle seemed paralysed for the next few days, much as it had been the night of Lady Julia's death. No one knew what was going to happen next. Everyone set to work clearing the rubble and trying to make the damaged kitchen safe, but it was an immense undertaking. A new temporary kitchen was set up in the parlour where the squires slept, forcing them to move out into the great hall. A mason came up from the village to survey the damage and quoted them a daunting fee for repairs. It was well beyond Lord Erik's means to pay. There was a danger, the mason said, of the ground on the north side of the hill eroding further now that it had shifted. He would have to examine the foundations of the entire wall and shore them up if necessary. If they got started right away, the wall could be made temporarily safe before the weather turned any colder, but proper repairs would have to wait until the next building season. It was difficult to get mortar to set firmly in winter, and that wasn't a risk worth taking on a project as important as a castle wall.
Wolfram kept himself busy carting barrow after barrow of rubble out of the castle and dumping it on the far side of the hill. He missed the privacy of the parlour. Now that he was sleeping in the great hall, there was nowhere for him to escape Ingrid. With her father incapacitated, she was now lady of the manor. If he died, she would most likely become the castle's steward until her infant brother came of age. That wasn't a thought Wolfram liked to contemplate, so he focused on his work. Meg was keeping Lavender busy as well, and with both of them occupied, their hillside walks and meals in the cottage became few and far between.
As a means of avoiding Ingrid, Wolfram joined the others praying for Lord Erik's health in the chapel some evenings. After a few days, whether by prayer or by nature, the baron's condition seemed to stabilise. Ingrid and Father Everwin were the only ones seeing him regularly since he was moved to his room. They said he was in great pain, but conscious and lucid. His condition hadn't deteriorated, which was a good sign. Father Everwin was tentatively hopeful that he might recover, though he would be confined to the solar for several more weeks.
With news of the baron's health sparking the castle back to life, all efforts turned toward repairing and rebuilding. A few volunteers from the village helped clear the wreckage, and piece by piece, the ruined kitchen was made safe and dismantled. Several of the precious stone ovens had survived the catastrophe, but they couldn't be used until the building was repaired. The pantry was completely destroyed, and the cellar beneath filled with broken stone and splintered wood. It would be a long time before things got back to normal.
A little over a week later, Wolfram was sitting with Dunstan and some of the other men near the hearth in the great hall. The squires' table was always packed now that they didn't have the parlour to retreat to. Wolfram had taken to joining the older men, and had been pleased to find that Dunstan welcomed him. If their longsword duel had proven him a worthy squire, his swift action in the kitchen had proven him a worthy man.
“The sooner we get our lord back the better,” Dunstan said over a cup of warm wine. “Not that I'd speak ill of Lady Ingrid, but she isn't her father.”
“She's not Lady Julia, either,” Wolfram said, biting back some of his own ill opinions about their mistress.
“True enough. She's been on about Lord Ricaud again. Seems set on marrying him. Pompous ass, that man, but I can think of worse solutions to our problems.”
“I don't think he's interested in her anymore. He'd have visited if he was.”
The thread of discussion trailed off as the men began discussing the logistics of rebuilding the fallen wall, only to resurface when Father Everwin joined them with a troubling piece of news.
“Lord Erik wishes to disinherit his own son!” the chaplain announced with indignation. He spoke softly so that only the men around the table could hear, but there was a hiss in his voice that suggested it was taking all of his composure not to yell. He poured himself a cup of wine and downed it in one gulp.
“Why does he want to do that?” Dunstan asked.
“To secure Lord Ricaud's engagement, he says. It's been a sticking point ever since the boy was born. Ricaud won't go forward with the marriage unless he stands to inherit Elkinshire. It's against all propriety!”
“Makes sense though, doesn't it?” Dunstan grunted. “If Ingrid doesn't bring in Ricaud's money, there won't be a castle left to inherit by the time the boy's of age.”
“You can't possibly tell me you approve, Dunstan.”
The man-at-arms worked his jaw back and forth with a glower. “No, I can't say I do. But it's not for me to have an opinion, is it?”
Wolfram felt a growing urge to interject, for a bitter realisation had stolen up on him in the wake of Father Everwin's announcement. It made sense now, why Ingrid had taken a renewed interest in marrying Lord Ricaud. She must have known he would never agree while Lord Erik had a male heir. If she wanted Elkinshire for herself, she needed her infant brother out of the way, so she'd pressed her father into striking a bargain with Ricaud to disinherit the boy and name Ingrid his sole heir. He would've been resistant, but the wall collapsing was a crisis he couldn't ignore. If he didn't do something now, the ruin of his house would be literal as well as figurative. The disaster had played perfectly into Ingrid's plans, and she hadn't wasted a second in capitalising on it.
Wolfram was hesitant to voice his suspicions aloud, but if Father Everwin and Dunstan were as indignant as they seemed, there might be no better time than this.
“I don't think this is what Lord Erik wants,” he said. “It's all Lady Ingrid.”
They stared at him for a moment, then Everwin said: “I'm inclined to agree.”
“Can we change his mind?”
“Not without a sack full of silver to pay the builders.”
Wolfram turned to Dunstan. “Then why don't we go and get one for him?”
“What do you mean by that?” Everwin asked.
“He means we collect the money Erik's knights owe him,” Dunstan said. “Demand as much as they can give and scare off anyone who tries to stop us. We'll have to be careful. As soon as Aldrich and his gang find out what's going on, they're sure to start some kind of trouble.” Dunstan's eyes flicked in Wolfram's direction. “Reckon you and the boys are ready to handle them?”
“More than ready.”
Father Everwin compressed his lips. “But what of Aldrich's money? You can rest assured that his mother will find a way to hurt Lord Erik's coffers if you try and arrest her son.”
“I think we're beyond that now, don't you? It's time Erik took back control of his lands. A baron disinheriting his son just to keep his castle from crumbling is a disgrace.”
