The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(57)

“I don’t think they would.”

“But what will you do when you go back to Berkhamsted? What if there is no place for you there?” Since Evangeline would be gone, she would have no one for whom to be a companion.

“I shall ask the king to take me into his household and give me a place there.”

Evangeline could think of no other objections. “Are you sure you are willing to lie to the king?” Her insides trembled at the thought that Muriel might decide not to lie. After all, she thought Evangeline should return to Berkhamsted Castle and marry Lord Shiveley. Perhaps she’d tell them where Evangeline was, to ensure she had no real choice in the matter.

They were nearing the church. Evangeline caught hold of Muriel’s arm. “Please don’t leave.”

“You only want me to stay so you will not be found out. But I hate it here.”

“Why? Is someone mistreating you? I will do something to stop them.”

“No, it isn’t that. I just . . . I am homesick. I . . . I miss someone.”

“Who?” Who could she mean?

“Frederick, the stable master.”

Evangeline stopped and stared. “The one whose wife died a year ago?”

Muriel nodded.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“You are young. And I suppose . . . I was a bit ashamed of myself.”

Evangeline waited for her to continue.

“He is below my station. And I . . . I knew you would not approve.”

“Why would I not approve? Look at me. I am working as a servant, cleaning hearths, making food, and emptying slop buckets in the pigsty.”

Muriel wiped the tears with the backs of her hands. “You know how I always said falling in love before marriage was something only peasants did, that falling in love was low and common. It was prideful of me. My foolish pride . . . Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t asked me to marry him. But when I go back, I vow I will not care. I will ask his forgiveness for thinking he was not good enough to marry, and I will marry him—if he will have me.”

Evangeline had never thought about Muriel getting married, or even imagined her falling in love before. But she loved Muriel and wanted her to enjoy her life, not to be miserable. Evangeline threw her arms around her. “I am so pleased for you, Muriel.”

“But I am afraid. What if King Richard disapproves? Is it selfish for me to get married?”

“No, not at all. After your service to King Richard all these years, you deserve to marry whomever you want.” Evangeline squeezed her arm. “Come, let us go into church before someone comes looking for us.”

They went inside and stood near the back of the nave, listening to the plainsong hymn. Evangeline’s mind wandered. What was to happen to her? Could Muriel persuade Lord Shiveley and King Richard that she was dead and to call off their search for her? Surely the earl did not want to marry her that much. He could find someone else, another relative of the king’s, though perhaps more distantly related, to marry.

Muriel had asked her if she thought Westley would marry her. She was afraid to even hope for such a thing. Westley was free and wealthy. He could marry anyone he wanted, or no one at all. Why would he marry her? He’d caught her in a blatant lie, pretending she couldn’t speak. She’d also accused his best friend of trying to kill him. Why would he ever want to marry her?

She had saved his life. But she could offer no proof that she was telling the truth.

She tried to force her mind to concentrate on the priest’s words, but her thoughts were scattered. Muriel was to leave her.

Perhaps it would be better for everyone if Evangeline left Glynval. If she moved on to another village, then Muriel could have a clear conscience by telling the king the truth about where she was. Evangeline would simply have to leave when no one else was watching so no one would know where she had gone. That would involve leaving at night, with no escort to protect her.

But she knew how to protect herself now. She could use a longbow, she was learning how to throw a knife, and she knew how to fight back if someone attacked her. Still, Reeve Folsham had warned her that she might prove to be no match for a man who was determined to harm her. And if there was more than one man, it would be even more difficult. She had to rely on surprising them, hitting them quickly, then running away and screaming for help. Unless she was able to use a weapon, of course.

She was only half listening to the priest’s homily when his words caught her attention. “Jesus carried your sins to the cross. Why, O man, do you insult the Lord God by continuing to carry the burden of your sin? Lay your burden down.”

When the church service was over and everyone began filing out, Evangeline whispered to Muriel, “I want to be alone for a few moments to pray.”

Muriel nodded and left with the others.

Evangeline moved into the corner of the nave, into the shadows. When everyone was gone, including the priest, Evangeline went to the place where she had carved into the stone wall at the back of the church. She traced the words Absolve me with her fingers, then traced the three crosses underneath. “I can’t bear this awful feeling of guilt,” she whispered. It was as if she carried a tree trunk on her shoulders.

But Jesus took that guilt away when He sacrificed Himself. Wouldn’t He feel hurt to know she was refusing to lay it down? That she was still carrying it?