Bliss(37)
Author: Lynsay Sands

" ‘Tis why his father brought us to the schoolroom to be taught alongside him," he explained. "Hethe could not read. Our father thought it laziness. The teacher tried to tell him that he had encountered it before, that it wasn’t lack of effort, that Hethe needed special lessons, that he sometimes saw the letters backward and such and needed assistance… But Lord Holden would not listen. He tried to use us against him."

"So you covered for him," Helen murmured, remembering what William and Hethe had both told her.

Neither had said that Hethe could not read or write, though, just that he had difficulty with it.

"Aye. William or I were always with him. One of us reads for him and writes. He merely signs his name."

"He can write his name?"

"Aye. He can read some, too, but it takes him a long time and is laborious. It is easier just to let us do it."

"So he never actually wrote any orders to you?"

"Nay. William did."

"Dear God." She sank to sit on the side of the small bed. "It has been William all along."

"I fear so, yes." He sighed unhappily. "When the orders started coming in to do those things, I… Well, it did not seem like Hethe to me. But I could never ask him. He was so rarely at Holden, and when he was there, he was usually tired from battle or his journey and would put me off. Then he would either leave at once, telling me to write if I had any concerns, or William would send me on some task or other and – "

He shrugged helplessly. "He claimed the orders were always from Hethe. I could not refuse. I had just started to suspect that William was deliberately keeping us apart when everything got out of hand."

Helen raised her eyebrows, and he explained. "The morning after Templetun brought first you, then Hethe, back to Holden, William returned. He sent me to the village on a minor task as soon as he arrived. Then he showed up and stopped me on my way back to the castle. He said he was concerned about Hethe’s mental state, that he was growing more and more cruel. He said he wished to talk to me. I thought we were finally going to get to the bottom of things. He suggested we ride a bit and discuss the situation, and I agreed. We had not ridden far when he attacked me. I did not see it coming." He shook his head. "He left me lying there in the woods for dead."

"But you did not die," Helen said.

"Nay. I was able to regain my mount and head here."

"He was near dead when he arrived," his mother piped up. "I didn’t think he’d survive."

"But I did, thanks to you." Stephen gazed at his mother with love and gratitude for a moment, then went on. "By the time I had healed enough to return to Holden – "

"You were not healed enough," his mother snapped.

"Mother heard news that Hethe had taken you to Tiernay," Stephen continued, ignoring her.

"So you went to Tiernay, too."

Stephen’s eyebrows rose. "How did you know?"

"Maggie recognized you in the tavern."

"Maggie." He sighed, obviously recalling her. "How is she? Is she making out all right?"

"Aye. She is fine. Why did you ride to Tiernay? To talk to Hethe?"

"Aye." He grimaced. "But I was warned by an old Holden tenant that Hethe was looking for me. That he thought I had been doling out unsanctioned punishments. Which I suppose I was, really." The young man looked so troubled that Helen took the time to soothe him, despite being impatient to hear the rest of his tale.

"You did not know that. Besides, they were sanctioned. His signature was on them even if he did not know what he had approved."

"Aye." He gave her a grateful smile that turned wry as he admitted, "Anyway, I left at once. Fled in a panic, I guess. I realized my mistake almost at once and was going to return, but decided I needed a plan. But when I returned the next morning, it was to hear that he had fallen down the stairs and was abed. I decided to give him a couple of days to recover before returning. The next time I headed to Tiernay was when I found him in the road. He was unconscious and badly wounded. I knew I had to get him to help, else he would surely die. So I pulled him up before me on my horse – "

"Reopening your wound," his mother added irritably.

"Well, I could not just leave him there," Stephen repeated wearily, and Helen suspected he had said it a hundred times in response to the woman’s complaints.

"Why did you bring him to Tiernay, though? Holden was much closer to the spot where he fell."

"I suspected William was the culprit. I could hardly take Hethe back for William to finish the job, so I brought him to you."

"But William is at Tiernay. Not Holden. What made you think he was at Holden?"

He appeared surprised at this news. "I just assumed that Hethe would leave him to act as chatelain."

Helen shook her head. "Hethe said William has not the patience for such a position. He leftJohnson as chatelain."

Stephen considered that briefly, then nodded in approval. "Johnson is a good choice. He – Wait! Did you say William is at Tiernay?"

"Aye."

"Alone with Hethe?"

"Nay, of course not. There are hundreds of people there, too. My aunt, the servants, the – " She frowned suddenly, "Surely William would not try anything with all those people around?"

"Is there someone staying with Hethe? Guarding him?"

"Aye. My aunt is sitting with him. I told her to let no one near him but… William." Helen groaned and saw her own horror reflected in Stephen’s eyes. She was on her feet almost at once. "I must get back to him."

"I am coming, too." Stephen announced, shoving his coverings aside and stumbling from the bed.

"Over my dead and bleeding body!" his mother roared, rushing forward to stop him. Helen paused to glance back as the woman added, "I am not sewing you back together again. You just get back in that bed now!"

But Stephen was not listening to his mother. He was already pulling a pair of bloodstained breeches on.

Some of it was likely Hethe’s blood, she realized unhappily. "Perhaps your mother is right, Stephen. You are in no shape to – "

"I am going," Stephen insisted, wincing and stumbling toward her as he pulled an equally bloodstained tunic on as well.

"But," Helen began even as his mother snapped, "Don’t be an idiot! Get back – "

"Where did you put my horse, mother?" Stephen ignored them both.

His mother glared at him helplessly for a moment, then sagged and hurried to the door. "I hid him behind the cottage. I shall get him for you. Put your bloody boots on."

Helen hesitated as she watched Hethe’s second find and then struggle to don his boots. She wanted to leave him there and just go, but could not. Muttering under her breath, she rushed back to help him. She had his boots and swordbelt on quickly, but his mother was quicker still. She had brought his horse around and sat mounted on him when they came out of the cottage.

"What are you doing?" he barked, seeing her.

"I am going, too. Someone has to keep you on this great behemoth of a horse."

Stephen opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it and merely moved silently forward.

Between his mother’s pulling from her perch on the mount and Helen’s pushing from the ground, they managed to get him into the saddle. Helen then hurried around to her own horse and mounted it.

Remembering Goliath, she glanced around. She had left the dog outside upon seeing that Stephen was too weak to be a threat. He was nowhere to be seen now. Helen called for him, whistled, and finally relaxed when the dog loped out of the trees.

"Come," she ordered, snapping her mare’s reins. And with that, they were off.

Chapter Twenty-one

"Stephen." Hethe repeated the name unhappily. "You know he must be the one behind this, right?"

"Oh, aye." William, reached out, absently spinning the mug where it sat. "Who else? I doubt any of the servants or villagers are practiced at archery."

"Aye." Hethe watched his first’s actions, but his mind was on Stephen and his perfidy. Then he admitted,

"I fear I can see no other answer, myself. I just do not understand why he has taken this so far. I could have forgiven his cruelties to the serfs and villeins… well, perhaps not forgiven them, but given him a punishment and the opportunity for him to right the wrongs he has committed. I do not know why he had to take things to this level. What does he hope to gain?"

"Perhaps he hopes to gain all you have," William murmured.

Hethe gave his first an angry look. "Killing me will not give him that," he said harshly. "Holden would go to my cousin Adolf should I die."

William stilled, then nodded slowly. "Aye. So it would."

"So why would he wish me dead?"

"Perhaps he hates you."

Hethe froze. "Why?"

"Well, you have everything a man could wish for. A rich, powerful estate. A lovely young wife. The king’s ear. And he has nothing."

Hethe frowned. "I inherited it all from my father. It was a matter of – "

"Chance."

Hethe scowled, but William continued. "Stephen has the same father as you. But his mother was the blacksmith’s daughter. Had your mothers been reversed, he would have been lord and not you. You did not know, of course."

"No." Hethe frowned, his gaze dropping and shifting around the room as he considered. Stephen was his half-brother. Impossible. He had never even suspected. Well, of course he hadn’t. "He looks nothing like me. He has red hair and green eyes. You look more like me than he does. Are you sure – "

Hethe paused, his gaze riveted on his first. William did look more like him than Stephen did. William was the same height as him, had the same dark coloring, the same blue eyes, the same mouth – a mouth that was at the moment curving up with amusement.

"Our father was quite prolific," William said, then allowed a moment for it to sink in before continuing.

"As for Stephen, his mother was a green-eyed redhead. He took her coloring. But he inherited our father’s size and shape – as we did. He also has the same straight nose and strong chin."

Hethe gaped at his first. Two brothers. He had two brothers. All these years he had thought himself an only child and – "Why was I never told?"

"I suppose our father never bothered telling you because he did not feel it significant enough. He never acknowledged us openly, after all. And Stephen did not know."

"But you did."

William shrugged. "I was taught that it was something not to be discussed. I was never really sure if you knew or not."

Hethe was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "But if Stephen did not know – "

"He learned it once he was older. I told him." William began to spin the mug in place again, his gaze turning away from Hethe and concentrating on it. "We discussed it at length. I know it has preyed on him since. He found it hard to accept that, but for chance, he might have been Lord of Holden. He could have sat at tables with kings, have married a lady. He would have answered to no one."

Hethe frowned at those words. "It is not all as wonderful as it sounds. You know that, and so should he!

I have to answer to the king, if you will recall. In his position, Stephen must only answer to me. He is fortunate. The king can be very demanding. And as for marrying a lady, just look at how I was ordered to marry Lady Tiernay. I hardly would have chosen her to wife."

"But all worked out well. You seem pleased with her."

"Aye," Hethe agreed, his expression softening.

"Well, Stephen likely envies you that, too."

Hethe grimaced. "Then he is a fool. Not that my wife is not worth envying, but why waste his time on such silliness? It will get him nowhere. And, as I said, should I die, Holden will go to Adolf."

"But Tiernay would return to Helen."

Hethe blinked. "Aye. I suppose it would. We have not been married long, and there are no children to inherit. Most likely Tiernay would remain with her and the king would see her remarried."

"So, perhaps your assassin plans to woo and marry her. She might turn to him in her grief to help with managing Tiernay. It will be easy for him to ingratiate himself with her." William smiled, and Hethe felt a chill run through him. "Especially with Stephen still running loose out there."

"It was never Stephen," Hethe realized.

"Stephen was never smart enough to come up with anything approaching a plan."

"He is smart enough, but he is loyal."

"He is a fool."

"You were sending those instructions to Stephen. You were the one mutilating my subjects in my name!"

William shrugged. "You obviously did not have the courage to do what needed doing. You have always been the weak one. Too stupid to learn how to write, too – "

Hethe lunged upward, grabbing up the pitcher on the table and slamming it into the side of his first’s head. The blow was one of desperation, with little strength behind it, but the surprise was enough to send William backward, shaking his head.

Hethe tried to bolt from the bed, throwing himself toward the door. He was not a fool. William would never have so calmly confessed had he intended Hethe to live. The man planned to kill him. He had been trying all this time, trying to make it seem an accident. Hethe doubted that this time he would fail. He was too weak in his condition to do battle. His only hope was to get out into the hall and summon help.

Alas, his desperation was not enough to save him. His body, still weak and atremble just from swinging the pitcher and plunging from the bed, gave out on him as soon as his feet hit the floor. He started to pitch forward, but suddenly William was there, pushing him back onto the bed in disgust.

"Now, what the bloody hell was that supposed to be?" the Knight snapped, shoving Hethe back beneath the linens and again covering him with furs. "You are in no shape to be prancing around."