In Which Everyone Is Paradoxically Relieved

Lynde Falconer to Thomas Crowder:

Oh, Tom darling, the best thing in the world has happened. Nicholas Rafe has returned, and the court at Bentlefay is complete once again. It was quite dramatic now that I think back, though of course it was happening so fast that it didn’t occur to me at the time.

We were all in the hall for the receiving, and the lords and ladies were milling about and clacking the way they do, which annoys the princess even more than it used to now that she has been grieving. She had just muttered something under her breath about the grooming habits of Lady Gilley, when there was an unmistakable sound of clattering hooves in the courtyard, and we all thought the surprise attack had started. There was a pause while the king strode forward, and I came to stand in front of the princess in case of the invasion, but before the king reached the door the majordomo came in with his eyes like saucers and his face working. He was just about able to stammer out “Your Majesty --” when he stuck fast and tears came into his eyes, and it was so clearly impossible to tell whether his news was good or bad that the king swelled out his chest and set his legs apart in case he would have to be regal for everyone. But then there was a commotion behind him, and without warning Nicholas Rafe burst into the room followed a couple of paces behind by a bashful young man wearing Marshweather livery.

At first all we could do was look at him, it seemed so impossible that he could be standing there alive, and if he wasn’t well at least he was more or less upright. He was dressed in the rags of his former careful habiliments, with his hair grown out and his face unshaven – and of course his maimed wrist, which was covered by a linen handkerchief tucked inside his sleeve. But his eyes were burning black, and if his cheeks were hollow and pale their lean hunger gave him the look of an attractive wolf, an impression of which I am sure he was aware. Even the long hair became him, and knowing him, I would be surprised if he ever cut it above his shoulders again!

The entire hall froze to a man as he stood there swaying on his feet, and I found myself wondering if he was real or a ghost – he looked so exactly like a dead man who was starving for the life he had lost. But it was only two heartbeats before the picture dissolved. The king and queen dashed forward to take him by the arms, and if the princess was a moment behind it was only because she tripped over the hem of her own dress, and had to recover herself lest she take him over with her. She was crying unreservedly, and even the queen looked suspiciously soft around the eyes as she clutched Rafe by his good hand. The king was able to keep his face steady, but he clasped Rafe by his right upper arm and thumped him over and over again on the shoulder.

The whole thing lasted only a moment or two before Rafe freed himself gently and fell back a step to gesture at the man who had come in with him. He was a well-set-up young man in his middle twenties, with nothing particularly monstrous about him, which I admit surprised me a little, knowing what I do about Marshweather anymore.

Rafe said only “This is Jem Tarpley. He saved my life,” and let the silence fall as everyone looked at the poor young man, who flushed purple to the eyebrows and looked about as if in appeal. The silence was so complete that I actually wondered if there had been a spell cast, but after a few moments of it the picture dissolved again and the queen and the princess flung themselves upon the newcomer with renewed handclasps and kisses while the king held Rafe upright by his good arm and beamed upon them all.

We all thought it was over, and the king had bellowed for Rafe’s valet Dugin to come and make his master comfortable, by thunder, after all he’d been through – but Rafe stopped them with a raised hand and said that he couldn’t have made such a ride for his own life. No indeed, he had made it for Bentlefay, and if we would all shut up and listen for a change, he could tell us Bleake’s plans for the surprise attack.

This was so much like his old manner that the princess started to cry again, but the queen pushed forward her own chair for his behind and the princess’ stool for his feet, and said “There, now, you naughty man, everyone is listening to you, just the way you like it. I will bring you the meal of your lifetime with my own hands later on, and you will have all the coddling you have missed at Marshweather--”

She stopped then, and cocked an eyebrow at Tarpley. “Or have you?”

Tarpley and Rafe both looked at their boots, and the queen went on. “Well, well. Take this cup--” it was the king’s “—drink as deeply as you see fit, and then tell us.”

Rafe drained the cup and held it out for more as the princess shoved her own cup hastily at Tarpley who stood paralyzed until she flapped her free hand impatiently at him and he took it.

Well, it turns out that they will be here before the end of the week, so it is a good thing we are prepared. The last thing Rafe discovered before he was taken concerned the guerilla siege on Dumcruckle, which I was able to respond with pride had been taken care of locally with no need to trouble the capital. Its intention, as you had suspected, had been to draw troops away from us here, and since the net effect was to take twenty men from the main attack, I think we are the gainers overall.

So we were able to assure Rafe that everything was under control. The only thing we will have to worry about will be the surprise attack, and with the warning he was able to give us, the surprise will be for Marshweather. Unless Bleake has something planned that even Rafe doesn’t know about, we are in a good position to repel the attack.

Once he had discharged his news, Rafe began to fail alarmingly, and we bundled him off to his room, where Dugin was hugging his master’s nightclothes to his chest in an excess of emotion. We gave Tarpley a room of his own but after he had a wash he went straight back to Rafe’s. The queen brought their dinner herself, just as she had promised, and the last I heard they were tête-à-tête with it. Between Tarpley and Dugin I think Rafe is in good hands, and we are so glad to have him again safe under our roof.

The next few days will be tricky ones, but we are in good heart and since I will be with the royal family, my personal safety is not likely to be in much danger, so please do not worry too much about me, dear Tom. I have taken you as my model for courage and optimism, so you see I have an excellent example to follow.

Your loving,
Lynde

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