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  With all my love,

  Edmund.

  Abigail looked up from the letter to see the knight looking at her intently, a sad little smile on his face. “Well then, Sir Edward, it seems I am in your protection,” she said.

  “Aye, My Lady,” he said, bowing his head. “If you would say your goodbyes, My Lady, we should leave immediately. The evening grows older by the second.”

  “Of course, good sir,” she said.

  Abigail turned around and saw the subjects of House Arundel looking at her with dismayed expressions. Her chambermaids were weeping into handkerchiefs while the guards held up their swords in a farewell salute. Abigail raised a hand in farewell to her subjects and walked towards the wagon. Just then, she heard a commotion behind her, and Pip ran to her.

  “Take me with you, My Lady,” he cried, hugging her tightly, “I cannot stay here!”

  Abigail ran her hand through the boy’s hair and glanced up at Sir Edward with a questioning expression. The knight looked troubled. He glanced around the courtyard and then back at Pip. Resignedly, he gave a slight nod and mounted a horse. Abigail sighed and smiled down at Pip. She nodded at him and ushered him to the back of the wagon. She helped him up and climbed into the cabin behind him. Just then Nurse Daisy ran up to her and hurriedly handed her a rather large cloth bag.

  “Pip’s stuff, My Lady,” she explained quickly as the wagon started to move. “I also packed some tonics for strength and morning sickness,” she called, jogging after the moving wagon, “The pink ones are the ones for strength, and the clear ones are those for morning sickness,” she called one last time, finally falling back as the wagon exited the gates of the castle.

  Abigail saw her standing in the gates, her head buried in her hands, getting smaller and smaller as they moved further away. The cabin creaked as the wagon went over the hill, after which only the towers of Northumberland would be visible. She got one last glance of the castle she had called home before the wagon turned, and it disappeared over the hill. Abigail sighed as she held Pip close to her. She didn’t know when she would return to the castle, if she would return at all.

  Chapter 13

  Samuel Cooper stood, looking out his window. He had waited for the Earl to come back from London for days now, but the Earl had shown no intentions of returning to Aldrich. Samuel grew impatient by the day as he felt his authority being diminished. Rather, he had come to realise that he had no authority at all; he never had any to begin with. It bothered him to think as to why the Earl would keep him hanging like this. Boggled by his own thoughts, he came to a split decision. He grabbed a cloth bag and packed an extra pair of linens. He then wrapped a loaf of bread in paper and put it over the clothes. He did everything in a hurry as if he was a prisoner looking to escape.

  Grabbing the bag to his chest, Samuel rushed down to the stables with the intention of asking for a horse. Finding the stable master absent, he decided to saddle a horse himself as his patience got the better of him. Having done that, he mounted the animal and headed for the gates. He faced no hindrances until he got to the gates themselves.

  “Ho!” cried a guard, grabbing Samuel’s horse by the reins. “Samuel Cooper, where do ye think yer headed?”

  “I’m heading to London,” said Samuel, “where’s the gatekeeper?”

  “Off duty,” grunted the guard, “by whose permission are you leavin’, eh?”

  “Permission?” asked Samuel, furious. “I don’t need no one’s permission!”

  “Sure ye do!” said the guard, “Ye need permission to leave or enter the castle, don’t yer?”

  Furious, Samuel grabbed the butt of his pistol tucked in a saddlebag. “You let go of the reins, you fool!” he shouted at the guard.

  The guard too quickly drew his bayonet and pointed it at Samuel. Just then, a horse rode up from behind him, and he felt a sharp blow on his head. The force of the strike pushed him off his horse, and he fell heavily on the paved floor of the courtyard. He shook his head and looked up to identify his assailant. It was none other than the head of the guard, Warren Landing.

  “What is the meaning of this?” spluttered Samuel from the ground. “How dare ye strike me?”

  “I hold the right to strike anyone who threatens my men!” barked the knight. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Your man dared stop me from leaving the castle,” said Samuel, standing up unsteadily, “said I needed permission!”

  “Where were you headed?” he asked.

  “London,” said Samuel, dusting himself off, “to the Lord Earl.”

  “Did the Lord Earl summon you to London?” asked the knight, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, I was going on my accord,” said Samuel.

  “Ah well, you see, Samuel,” said the knight with a grin, “you are not allowed to leave the premises until the Lord Earl asks for you to.”

  “Says who?” asked Samuel, enraged.

  “Says me,” said the knight, looking down at him with hatred in his eyes.

  “You don’t have the authority!” screamed Samuel.

  “But I do,” replied Sir Warren. “Now return to your chambers, Samuel, and drop this at once.”

  With that, the knight turned his horse around and proceeded to move towards the stables. Samuel looked around the courtyard to see everyone staring at him, a few of them shaking with laughter. He went red with humiliation. Gone mad with rage, he reached for his pistol still in the saddlebags, aimed it at the retreating back of the knight and opened fire. He shot badly; the pellets missed the knight entirely and wedged themselves into the wood of an oak tree in the courtyard with a loud crunch. Suddenly, he saw around thirty bayonets pointed at him. Realising what he had attempted to do, he paled and dropped his weapon. Sir Warren turned around to face him. Surprisingly, he had a calm smile on his face.

  “Throw him in the dungeons where he belongs,” he said and rode away.

  Chapter 14

  Abigail had no problem living in the city. She was used to the sounds, the smells, and the general hustle and bustle of London. However, she knew that Edmund hated it there; not just because he preferred the countryside, but because he believed he had failed her and his forefathers. They were still living comfortably enough in the estate due to Edmund’s investments in numerous trades. However, Edmund blamed himself for what had happened to House Arundel, repeatedly mentioning how the dishonour he had brought to the house would always be on his head.

  Meanwhile, Tobias and Edmund made regular visits to the Palace of Westminster, looking for ways to fix all that had gone wrong. They had repeatedly claimed that the Earl had wronged House Arundel and should be taken for trial, but to no avail. The House of Lords would immediately dismiss all their cases. Edmund had even tried to get an appointment with the King-Regent at Buckingham Palace, but that too had been denied.

  “If only they would let me meet the King Regent!” exclaimed Edmund one day, coming home after a long day spent at Westminster Palace, “I would inform him of the corruption and misgivings of the House, and this crisis would be past us within days.”

  “It’s okay, Edmund,” she had said, holding him to her, “we’ll find a way.”

  “I’m tired, Abigail,” he had replied in a defeated tone. “I am tired of living like this; I am tired of the injustice, and I am tired of seeing that Earl strutting around the Palace in triumph.”

  Abigail had been surprised to know that the Earl was still in London. Given that he had won the Castle of Northumberland and all its estates, she thought that he would immediately run out to the countryside to claim his prize. On voicing her questions, the Duke had chuckled. He had replied with, “Of course he would have left for the countryside. He stays because he has to cover up his tracks. Such treachery leaves a trail, Abigail.”

  The truth was that Abigail was still in awe at how the Earl had pulled off such an act. She always thought of the House of Lords as a noble and old institution that was just and honourable, always ready to serve the la
nd with their mind, body, and soul. The realisation that evil had crept into an institution she so admired was something that she could not come to terms with. The thought had left her despondent and disappointed.

  The only person who seemed to hold himself completely above the crisis that threatened House Arundel was Pip. His positivity and cheer were the only things keeping the three of them going. “It’s just like King Arthur,” he would say, “we shouldn’t lose hope even when all hope seems lost.” Even Edmund’s mood improved when he came home to Pip sprouting legends about King Arthur and lessons about not giving up. For that, Abigail was eternally grateful to the boy.

  Nevertheless, the issue had taken its toll on them, especially the Duke. It had been a few days since they had been forced to relocate to London, but for Abigail, it seemed as if it had been weeks. The stress had left Edmund restless and weak. He had lost his appetite and had a very hard time sleeping at night. He seemed to have aged a few years in the four days they had spent in the city. He was taking the issue to heart, which had affected his health gravely; he looked weaker by the day with bags under his eyes and the weight that he had lost. Abigail had noticed that he had started losing hair. She hated to see him this way but could do very little to help.

  Chapter 15

  Harold had been relaxing in his chambers, having his evening cup of tea when the messenger boy called Will had suddenly shown up. Lord Walder had summoned him to his chambers for something urgent. He had been extremely annoyed but had responded to the summons and had left for Lord Walder’s chambers immediately. Now, he stood outside the doors and knocked gently. He then proceeded to enter the room.

  “Why have you summoned me at such a late hour, My Lord?” he asked but stopped short when he found himself face to face with a man he had trouble recognising. Looking around, he saw that Lord Walder was seated off to the side of the room next to the window while the stranger sat in the Lord’s usual chair.

  “Harold,” greeted Lord Walder in a dry tone. He seemed dreadfully annoyed and upset, “This is Lord Warren Stokeworth. He has just come from the harbour; his ship docked less than five hours ago. He insisted on seeing you.”

  “Lord Stokeworth!” greeted Harold, suddenly taken aback. “We weren’t expecting you for another fortnight. Were you not coming up from Kenya?”

  “I was in Kenya, yes,” said the Lord in a smooth yet powerful voice, “but a month ago, I left for London from the Portuguese capital naught but five days before this.”

  “Ah,” said Harold, “Surely this audience could have waited; would you not prefer to rest from the journey first?”

  “If I felt the need to rest, Earl, I would have been in bed already,” said the Lord. “No, I have urgent business with you.”

  “With me, My Lord?” asked Harold in a dangerously sweet voice. “What business would you have with me?”

  “Well, I heard on arrival to the Palace that you were recently, and temporarily, granted the Castle of Northumberland and its estates to hold for the Crown because the Duke holding them was stripped of his titles, is that correct?” the Lord asked in a dignified tone.

  “That is correct, My Lord,” said Harold, wetting his lips with his tongue.

  “Well, I surely believe there has been a mistake, Lord Earl,” said Lord Stokeworth, “nowhere in the law does it state that an Earl may hold two castles. I am afraid that the castle falls into the protection of the Crown until a Duke is appointed to it.”

  “My Lord?” said Harold, at a complete loss for words.

  “Yes?” replied the Lord with a small smile playing on his lips, “Do you have any questions?”

  “No, My Lord,” said Harold, his tongue as dry as paper, “none at all.”

  “Very well then,” said the Lord, getting up, “that will be all. However, I shall read into this case more deeply on the morrow to see if there were any more errors of the sort. But for now, I must truly rest. Good day, gentlemen.”

  With that, the young Lord Stokeworth gracefully marched to the chamber doors and exited soundlessly, leaving the Earl staring, dumbfounded, in his wake.

  Chapter 16

  Tobias Harding rushed to the Palace of Westminster, galloping down the streets as fast as his horse could go. For once, he was in high hopes that his efforts would actually be rewarded. They now had a friend in the House of Lords. He had heard just this morning about the return of Lord Warren Stokeworth, who he knew to be a man of honour, justice, and integrity. Approaching the castle, his horse skidded to a halt, raising clouds of dust. He then walked his horse into the Palace and approached the main doors.

  “Lord Walder does not wish to see you, Tobias Harding,” said the guard, not waiting for a greeting.

  “And I do not wish to see him,” he said, entering the Palace. Inside, he called for a messenger boy and said to him, “Run to Lord Stokeworth, lad. Tell him that Tobias Harding has requested an appointment on behalf of Lord Edmund Egerton Arundel, former Duke of Northumberland.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the boy and ran off. Tobias took a seat in the Palace’s humongous reception, looking at the intricate glasswork on the room’s roof. He had only begun to enjoy the spectacular view than the boy ran back, panting. “The Lord has granted your request. I am to take you to him immediately.”

  The boy then started walking towards the residential wing of the Palace as Tobias closely followed, ecstatic that he may finally have some help. Approaching the doors leading to the chamber previously occupied by the late Lord Stokeworth, the boy knocked twice and waited outside. A moment later, a voice called “Enter” from inside the chambers, and the boy prodded the doors open. He gestured that Tobias enter the room, announced his presence, and exited immediately leaving Tobias standing in the doorframe.

  “Tobias Harding,” said the Lord, approaching him with his hand outstretched, “I do believe we have met before?”

  Tobias eagerly shook the man’s hand, “Yes, My Lord,” he said, “we have. You and your late father visited Northumberland on your way to France through the Channel once, My Lord.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember,” said the Lord, gracefully sitting down in his chair. He gestured to the chair opposite him, and Tobias hurried to take his place.

  “I heard you took Northumberland off Earl Blakemore’s hands last night?” asked Tobias.

  “Yes, I did,” said the Lord, raising an eyebrow. “It was a botched grant. How do you know, however, sir?”

  “Word travels fast in the city, My Lord.”

  “I shall keep that in mind,” said Lord Warren with a smile. “Tobias, there is much I have to talk to you about. I have been reviewing the case of Duke Edmund Egerton Arundel, and I must say either the House of Lords was swapped with a band of blithering baboons, and no one was the wiser, or there is a deep treachery at play here. What have you to say on this?”

  “I’m afraid it is the latter, My Lord,” said Tobias glumly. “There is a major conspiracy that threatens the very roots over which this kingdom was established. And I am sorry to tell you that it also connects your dear father’s untimely demise.”

  Hearing his words, the Lord sat up alert. “Say what you have to say, sir.”

  Tobias then recounted the whole tale of how matters got so much out of control, starting from the Duke’s appointment to the sixth regiment on the channel and his meeting with the late Lord Stokeworth to the events of the previous day when he had been denied entry to the Palace on the commands of Lord Walder. After he was done, the Lord sat back and took a deep breath.

  “That is quiet a tale, Mr. Harding,” he said, “And even though you have the look of an honest and honourable man, I cannot take this story on face value. What you say incriminates an Earl and the House of Lords. Do you have any proof to justify your accusations?”

  “I have no proof, My Lord,” said Tobias, “but I have a witness.”

  “A witness? Who?” asked the Lord.

  “A boy by the name of Will Turner, My Lord,” said Tobias, “your father
’s old messenger boy.”

  It was then that the Lord called upon Will Turner and summoned him to his chambers. When Will arrived, fear was etched on his face as he faced the two men. After a bit of urging, the boy finally relayed his side of the story, even recounting the conversation he had overheard between Lord Walder and Lord Woodworth. After finishing, the boy broke into tears, pleading for his life. After calming the boy down, Lord Stokeworth leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples.