The Beekeeper

Chapter 20

 Moving the rug and stool back into place, he hurried towards the front door as the noise of the demanded entrance grew louder.

"I am coming!" he shouted.

As he went, his struggle against reality was still there – but common sense was quickly taking over.

Be calm, he told himself. Nothing is yet certain.

There was no reason to fear anything. After all, what reason had anyone to suspect him of a wrongdoing? And yet, he knew by the tone of the order given that the visitors were not there in the hopes of making a peaceful and cordial visit.

Taking a deep breath, he yanked the door open.

A band of guards stood there, waiting for him. And with them was Hugh DePuiset. The bishop himself. He had not expected a member of the clergy, of all people. Confusion and fear threatened to overwhelm him – but he maintained his air of calm.

"What is this?" he asked.

It was the captain of the castle guards who answered him – the very same man he had commanded a thousand times over several years. The others he knew as well, of course. And they all looked at him nervously – still fearful of him, even at that moment. I

t was the captain who seemed the most hesitant to go against him – and yet he did, as he obviously had been ordered to do so.

"Sir Guy, the sheriff requests that you come to him immediately."

Guy's eyebrow rose in suspicion. "For what?" he demanded to know.

Another guard answered. "You are needed for questioning."

Questioning. He knew precisely what that implied.

'Questioning' was just another word for interrogation – a means of extracting information from a suspect, whether or not the victim was innocent. He was being accused of wrongdoing – that much he was aware of. But to what extent would they take his interrogation? What information did they have already, and what was unknown to them that they wished to uncover the details of?

He would learn that information soon enough. And in the meantime, there would be a need to collect evidence – to which he felt himself grow tense. But he willed himself to be calm.

DePuiset gave the order to begin.

"Search the house," he said. "If there is anything or anyone of interest, bring it out immediately."

Two of the soldiers entered the house. Soon, there came the noise of the house being ransacked. He winced at the sound. It evoked memories of the night his mother had been killed, when bandits had destroyed their home. Now it seemed to be happening all over again – the bitterness of history repeating itself.

He did not care if they destroyed his belongings. They were mere objects that could easily be replaced. There was the real possibility that they would find Cassia in her hiding place – and yet, he assured himself that she was secure where she was.

She will be safe, he told himself. They will not find her.

After all, there was nothing that would lead a casual observer believe that the kitchen had a secret room under its floorboards. Feeling confident enough, he turned with a bitter but calm tone in his address to the bishop.

"Your grace, may I know the reason for the destruction of my property? I find this behavior highly offensive and questionable."

The bishop was equally calm in his answer. DePuiset had always been that way – cold and calculated in everything that he said and did. He was that way when he replied.