Page 18 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

Chapter 6

“Idon’t like this,” said Bedivere, pacing back and forth in his solar. His brother sat at a small table breaking off a piece of bread from a loaf he’d brought from the kitchen. A decanter of wine and two goblets graced the table as well.

“I don’t like it either,” complained Percival, chewing on a crust of bread. “I want a good meal and some entertainment, not stale bread and sour wine. We were invited to sit at the dais with Lady Ernestine, so I don’t know why we’re holed up in this stuffy room eating like peasants.”

“We’ll go down to the great hall in time, but not yet. First, I need you to help me decide what to do.”

“What do you mean?” Percival shoved another chunk of bread into his mouth and chewed while he talked.

“Tell me again. What did the king’s advisor tell you when he gave you my orders to deliver?”

“Lord John Whitmore was adamant that you had to follow the orders completely and that Mother wouldn’t be set free until he was satisfied that you stopped this attempt on the king’s life.”

“Dammit, Percival, why is our family in this position?” Bedivere clenched his jaw, feeling trapped.

“I think you know that answer.” Percival took a swig of wine to wash down the bread, making a face that told Bedivere the wine wasn’t to his liking. “If father hadn’t ruined things for us, we’d be living in a manor house in the country and I’d be married by now.”

“I still don’t believe that Father was organizing an attempt on King Richard’s life. It wasn’t like him.”

“He often disagreed with the king. Plus, Father did have a bad temper.” Percival poured Bedivere a goblet of wine and handed it to him. “Did you want any bread?” There was only a small piece left since Percival had eaten most of it.

“Nay, I’m not hungry.” Bedivere took the goblet and sat down across from his brother. “It’s been two years now, and I can’t live this way anymore, Brother.”

“None of us can,” agreed Percival. “It was no joy being in Whitmore’s dungeon, and it is far from accommodating with the ten of us all crammed into the small cottage made of wattle and daub. If Father hadn’t done us in, we’d be living in a castle by now where we truly belong.”

“Aye, I have often thought of that, too.” Bedivere released a deep breath and took a swig of wine. “How are the others? Are they faring well?”

“As best as can be expected,” stated Percival, licking the wine from his lips and thumping his goblet down on the table.

“Tell me about them, Percival. I want to hear about my family. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen them.”

After their father was sent to the gallows for his betrayal to the king, Lord Whitmore advised King Richard to imprison and put Bedivere and the rest of his family to death as well. However, they were kept in the dungeons of Whitmore Castle in Staffordshire instead of anywhere near the king. The castle belonged to the lord’s advisor, as well as the land and the cottage where Bedivere’s family now resided. Only his mother was still imprisoned, as the rest of the family members were released one by one every time Bedivere killed off someone who had plotted to kill the king. Two years and eleven bodies later, and Bedivere was so close to having his entire family released. Once his mother was set free, he planned on taking her, his siblings, aunt and uncle to Scotland to live. Even though his father’s death and Bedivere’s family imprisonment had been kept a secret, it was only a matter of time before the word got out and the Hamilton family name would be sullied forever.

“If you came to visit once in the past two years, you’d know how they fared,” sneered Percival.

Guilt ate away at Bedivere because his brother was right. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to visit his family because of who he’d become. “It’s not that I don’t care. You know I do.”

“Of course.” Percival didn’t believe him.

“I can’t bear to see them living this way.” Bedivere closed his eyes as he spoke. “And worst of all, I can’t let my siblings look up to me like a hero after all the lives I’ve taken.”

“Let them be the judge of that.”

“Tell me. How are they, Percival?” Bedivere needed assurance that his family was all right.

“Well, Sarah and Avelina became sick during their stay in the dungeon, and so did the twins, Averey and Luther. Uncle Theobald’s sight is worsening and Aunt Joan says he’s lost his mind.”

“Oh no,” said Bedivere, hearing about his siblings as well as his aunt and uncle. “What about Rhoslyn, Claire, and Elizabeth?” he asked, speaking of the eldest sisters. Bedivere was the first-born sibling, now four and twenty years old. He was followed by Percival who was two years younger. Then came their sisters followed by the twins who were only seven years of age. It made Bedivere furious that Lord Whitmore hadn’t even balked at the idea of imprisoning children.

“The eldest of our sisters have taken over the duties and even gone to work at the castle to bring in food so we don’t starve. I was there as the falconer’s assistant until I was sent here to give you your last orders.”

“I despise Father for putting us in this position,” snarled Bedivere. “If he hadn’t gotten cocky, he’d still be alive and I wouldn’t have to clean up his mess.”

“His mess? We don’t even know if Father was really guilty of treason.”

“And neither do we know that he wasn’t,” stated Bedivere. “All I know is that after Mother is released, my family will never suffer again. I will make sure of it!”

“Then you’ll have to kill the bastards.” Percival’s eyes met Bedivere’s and they shared a moment of silence, the air thick between them. “Do you think you can do it, Brother?”

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