Rafe was listening with sorrow. “I am certain he did not do it purposely, whatever it is.”
James smacked the table, pointing a finger at him. “T-That is where you are wrong,” he said. “H-He never wanted the duties that were expected of him, the burdens that the title would bring him. Did I mention that? He was the Earl of Worcester and hated the trappings. And that’s why he hated me.”
Rafe frowned. “Hated you? I do not believe one brother would hate another so.”
James drunkenly waved him off. “T-That is where you would be wrong again,” he said. “H-He hated me because I had freedom he did not. He hated me because I would never know the weight of what he had inherited. But I do know because those burdens are now mine. I believe he charged into that battle a-purpose simply to push those burdens onto me.”
Rafe had gotten more than he bargained for when he’d asked to share a young lord’s table. As he looked at the man, his expression was almost… gentle.
“What is your name?” he asked quietly.
James sighed heavily after his tirade and turned back to the fire. “J-James de Lohr, Earl of Worcester, Viscount Leominster, Warden of the South Marches, Lord Pembridge and Marston,” he muttered. “A-As you have noticed, I have a catch in my speech that is unworthy of such a position, as it has been suggested to me. School masters tried to beat it out of me, but it didn’t work. When Johnathan and I were young, he would tell me that I sounded like a Billy goat, which would only make it worse and when we would argue, which was frequent, I had to write him notes and letters because he would have me so flustered that I could not speak at all.”
Rafe dipped his head in a sign of respect. “My lord,” he said. “It is an honor to meet you. As for your brother… sometimes, brothers fight, but the fact that you are here to find his body and bring him home proves that you love him. As I said, you are a good son. And a good brother.”
James averted his gaze. “I-I have come because my mother asked it of me,” he said. “T-There is no other reason. Even if I cannot find Johnathan’s body, I must search for something he had on his person when he came here. Something valuable to my family.”
Rafe regarded him for a moment. “If he had something valuable on his person, more than likely, it was stripped of him,” he said quietly. “You are a soldier and you know this to be true. Bodies in battle are stripped.”
For the first time, James showed a measure of pain in his expression, but he didn’t answer. He knew that very unpleasant fact, even if he couldn’t speak of it openly. To speak of it would make it real, and as much as he shared a dysfunctional relationship with his brother, he couldn’t stand the thought of the man being unceremoniously stripped of his possessions, his dignity…
Everything.
“I-I know,” he said, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if to ward off the mere thought. “M-My hope is that Johnathan was removed from the field of battle before the scavengers came. Perhaps there is a chance that the family heirloom is still on his body, though I know there is a good chance it is not.”
“What are you looking for?”
“A-A ring.”
Rafe lifted his eyebrows as if expecting more of an answer. “Just a ring?” he said. “A signet?”
But James shook his head. “N-Not any ring,” he said. “A-A family heirloom, passed down from earl to earl. A ring with the head of a lion that has been etched into the purest gold, with rubies set into the ocular cavities as if the blood spilled by the apex predator reflected in its very eyes. At least, that is how the ring is always described, even in old family documents. The lion’s head of the House of de Lohr is our mark of excellence. It is a privilege to wear it and, as the earl, it is my right. That is what I am looking for.”
Rafe nodded faintly. “Then I wish you well, my lord,” he said. “But what if you do not find it?”
James averted his gaze, agonizing over that very possibility. But something moved in the shadows and he looked over, realizing the serving wench with the pretty brown eyes had been in the chamber the entire time. She had cleaned up the meal, but she had never left.
She had heard everything.
Not that he cared. He’d never see her again after this night.
“Y-You, there,” he said, avoiding Rafe’s question. “I-I need a chamber. I will pay handsomely for the privilege.”
The woman came into the light, her big eyes looking at him rather fearfully. “I will speak with Carrie, m’laird,” she said. “I think that all the beds are taken, but I shall ask.”
James’ half-lidded gaze looked her over, the pretty brown-eyed woman who had caught his eye before. “I-I took you from the common room when there was fighting,” he said. “Y-You’ve been like a wraith, moving in and out of this chamber. What is your name?”
“Gaira, m’laird.”
“G-Gaira, if you will bring me some blankets, I can sleep right here on this floor.”
The woman dashed from the chamber and James turned to Rafe, reaching out to take the last of the man’s ale. In fact, Rafe hadn’t touched any of the food brought, so James shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
“W-We shall sleep this night,” he said, chewing the bread. “Y-You have asked me of my purpose in this unpleasant little inn, but what is yours? All I have done is speak of myself to no good end.”
Rafe didn’t seem to mind that James had sucked down the last of his ale. “I am here only for the night, too,” he said, avoiding the question for the most part. “I am a healer, my lord. That is my gift and my vocation.”
James looked at him with interest. “H-Healer, eh?” he said. “A-A physician? A noble profession. But you are too late for all of those gallant lads at Culloden. They could have used you months ago. My brother could have used you months ago. A bayonet to the neck, I was told. Only there is no recovering from that.”
Gaira returned to the chamber with Carrie in tow, both of them carrying blankets and pillows. James’ drunken chatter ceased at that moment as the women arranged a pallet for him in the corner, next to the hearth. They didn’t bring anything for Rafe and when James started to say something about it, the man waved him off and James let the subject drop. If Rafe didn’t want a bed, so be it.
Truthfully, James didn’t mind sleeping on the floor. He’d slept on worse. He was grateful for the blankets and the fire, and for the company of a rather silent man named Rafe. He’d spoken more of his brother to Rafe than he had spoken to anyone in a very long time and there was something decidedly cathartic about it. But there was also something undeniably depressing, like a stench of tumultuous brotherhood he simply couldn’t shake.
A brother he’d not parted on the best of terms with.
He slept.
Part Three
GAIRA
There was something in her face that suggested… shock.
Surprise?
Astonishment?
Rafe saw it in Gaira’s face as she’d listened to James drunkenly spout his tale of woe with regard to his relationship with his brother. James had been oblivious to the fact that Gaira had been trying not to be obvious as she listened to him.