The Betrayed by Irina Shapiro

Author:Irina Shapiro [Shapiro, Irina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

The following day dawned sunny and bright, and Rafael longed to leave the castle and go for a walk in the woods or by the lake. He had nothing to fill his days and envied Alfonso his sudden desire to become a playwright. It kept him busy and made him popular with the other men, especially since he had named some of the characters after his friends. Rafael had to admit that the tidbits Alfonso had been persuaded to read to them were witty and entertaining. He had cast Rafael in the role of the pious priest who acted as the main character’s nagging conscience. Rafael had instantly become the butt of good-natured teasing, except by Julio, who had suggested to Alfonso that perhaps the character should be martyred for his unwavering faith.

“Only if I can make Julio a lecherous villain,” Alfonso had responded, making the men guffaw with laughter. Julio had stormed off, but not before he called Alfonso some choice names.

“Are you going out?” Alfonso asked Rafael as he glanced up from his writing.

“I need to take a walk. I feel restless.”

“You should find a companion to walk with,” Alfonso replied innocently.

Rafael was about to rebuke him but changed his mind. “Maybe I should,” he replied instead. Alfonso smiled absentmindedly and returned to his manuscript.

“Alfonso, perhaps you should name your villain something else,” Rafael suggested.

“Why? Julio is the perfect name.”

“Julio Fernández doesn’t take kindly to being made a fool of,” Rafael replied. “Now’s not the time to make enemies.”

“Don’t be silly, Rafi. It’s all in good fun. It’s not as if anyone outside this castle will ever read my play. I need a diversion, and it improves morale among the men.”

“You don’t believe we’ll ever get home, do you?” Rafael asked, sensing Alfonso’s melancholy.

Alfonso shook his head. “Let’s not speak of it, Rafi. Go take your walk.”

Rafael inclined his head in acknowledgment and left Alfonso to his literary efforts.

He was just wondering where the best place to bump into Aisling might be when he saw her coming toward him down the passage. She wore a plain gown, the russet color a muted reflection of her hair, which was tucked beneath a modest cap. Her cheeks were rosy, probably from the heat of the kitchen, and a basket was slung over her arm.

“Good morrow, Master de Silva,” she called out. “Lovely day.”

“Eh…yes, it is. I was just going to take a walk,” he added shyly, too nervous to ask her to join him.

“The woods are lovely this time of year,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. “I’m going for a walk myself.” She smiled and continued toward the door. Aisling crossed the yard and passed through the gates, her gait brisk and purposeful. Rafael followed at a discreet distance, hoping he hadn’t misread her meaning and wasn’t about to make a fool of himself.

Aisling stopped just beyond the gates and turned back briefly, a beguiling smile tugging at her lips. Before Rafael could return her smile, she turned away and hurried along a wooded trail, her gown blending with the colors of the forest.

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