De Lara lifted his big shoulders, half in agreement. “If you must,” he said. “Sometimes, the wiser fight is the one they least expect. But I will say no more. The king wishes to move you north to Rockingham as soon as Barric is ready to travel, and that might not be for some time yet. So, for the time being, your place will be here.”
Teodora thought that sounded like a death sentence in and of itself. This tiny, dusty room would become her world and she looked down at herself, noting the scarlet and gold silk that she’d been so proud of. All she could feel was defeat as she ran her hand over it.
“It is in tatters now,” she said, feeling tears sting her eyes. “It was the prettiest dress I had ever worn.”
De Lara’s gaze drifted over her as she stroked the ruined dress. Although his expression remained like stone, some kind of pity glittered in his eyes.
“I would not worry overly,” he said. “You will be provided with new clothing. For now, you will remain in this chamber and think about how you can make your coming years with Fitz Hammond more… agreeable. It is your future, my lady, and I suggest you make the best of it unless you wish the rest of your life to be lived in misery.”
With that, he quit the chamber and Teodora heard the bolt thrown from the outside as she was, once again, locked into the tiny chamber. It seemed so very still once he was gone, and the weight of doom was pressing heavily upon her. The doom of a future that was as distasteful as it was disheartening. She was to be a concubine to a disgusting wretch of a man unless Cullen could find a way to free her. Perhaps it was foolish to have faith in the man, but she did. He hadn’t been captured, which meant he was still out there, somewhere. He’d made her a promise, after all.
Semper fidelis.
Always faithful.
She had to have a little faith, too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The grounds of Westminster were dark on the outskirts, far away from the bright lights and gaiety of the great hall. There was still a feast going on inside even though, outside, life was changing for some. Catastrophic changes, in fact. As Godfrey and Hamilton prowled the darkened recesses of the complex, every sound and every shadow had them jumpy.
And for good reason.
They were on the hunt for Cullen and, in truth, they weren’t entirely sure that he wasn’t hunting for them, too. Their plan was to comb Westminster before moving back to Rodstone House to look there and, so far, they were coming up empty. But Cullen was here, somewhere. They simply had to find him and hope the man didn’t cut them down before they had a chance to speak.
It was a genuine fear given their last interaction with him. So much had happened in the short time since Fitz Hammond’s goring. Lady Barklestone was captured, from what they’d been told, by John’s men. Preston had retreated to the hall surrounded by his soldiers as he debated on his next move. And Godfrey and Hamilton had plans against Cullen they needed to execute. Preston knew they were searching for Cullen, but he didn’t know their true motives.
He had no idea they planned to feed Cullen falsehoods that would send the man away for good.
In truth, it was a pivotal moment and if they didn’t put their scheme into action, all could be lost. At this point, it was all about greed, and they were determined to have the last say in the future of Preston de Lacy and their loyalty to the king, a man who would pay them handsomely. No Cullen, no Lady Barklestone, and no barriers to prevent them from doing what needed to be done.
For once, they would be in control.
They were over in the vast and elaborate garden on the river side of the great hall, staying to the shadows beneath the bright and silvery moon. It smelled heavily of the river over here, with a hint of earth and mildew besides. They’d just come through the great walkways outside of the residential apartments used by courtiers and advisers, and they’d wandered nearly the entire perimeter of Westminster itself, at least as best they could, but there were labyrinths in the lower levels, including the river gates, that one could get lost in. If Cullen was down in those warrens, they’d surely never find him.
For a royal residence, the vast majority of the guards were on the perimeter and the exterior of the place, not the interior, which meant Godfrey and Hamilton could move about rather freely. Those same guards had been looking for Cullen, too, but in being unsuccessful, the search as a whole had been called off. They had Lady Barklestone and that was evidently enough. Therefore, Godfrey and Hamilton swept the large garden, looking at the parapets, and crossed into a sheltered walkway that led to a door that would take them down to the river’s entrance. The door was guarded, or at least it usually was. But tonight, there didn’t seem to be any guards on the door.
Thinking it strange, Godfrey and Hamilton passed through the heavily-fortified door and entered a series of slippery steps that led them down to the river.
It was a fortified dock of sorts, protected by a portcullis that was lowered at this hour. The iron fangs of the portcullis went all the way down into the silt bottom of the shore. The only light was coming from the moonlight reflecting off of the river and into the cavern but, for the most part, it was a wasteland of wet stone and rusting iron. Hamilton made his way down a few steps to the water’s edge, looking through the portcullis to the river beyond.
“Well?” he said. “What now? He is nowhere to be found. Do we go back to Rodstone House?”
Godfrey sighed heavily. “I do not know,” he said. “I thought for certain he would be here, somewhere. I cannot imagine he would stray too far, but I must be wrong. Mayhap we need to return to Rodstone and start there.”
Hamilton passed a long gaze over the water before turning around and heading back up the steps. “We need to find him before the night is out,” he grumbled. “We cannot let him get away without telling him what we must.”
“What must you tell me?”
The voice came from back in the boat dock. Startled, Godfrey and Hamilton rushed to the stone slip, tucked back into the stone of the building above it, in time to see Cullen emerging from a rafter overhead where he had been hiding. It was like watching a shadow unfold and come forth as Cullen’s boots hit the slick stone.
“Cullen!” Godfrey gasped. “Have you been hiding here since you leapt from the king’s window? My God, man, the king’s men have been looking for you all evening!”
Cullen came away from the stone, into the ghostly reflection of the moonlight upon the water. “Is that why you are looking for me?” he asked. “To take me to them?”
Godfrey shook his head. “We’ve come to help you, to ensure you make it out of Westminster alive,” he said. “You must leave immediately, before the king’s sentries come around again. They should have been at the door to this slip, but…”
“I killed them,” Cullen said simply. “Their bodies are down here, in the slip. No one will come around until the shift changes at dawn.”
Godfrey and Hamilton peered into the murky water of the slip, but they couldn’t see anything. It was too dark. As Godfrey watched the water distastefully, Hamilton looked at Cullen.
“You’ve got to get out of here,” he said. “We should be able to get you to the stables and from there you can escape into the yard through the postern gate. Mayhap you should wait until the moon is low in…”
Cullen held up a hand, silencing him. “I am not going anywhere,” he said. “Where is Lady Barklestone?”
Those were the words they had been waiting for. Godfrey stared at him, unable to bring the lie forth that he needed to at that moment. He looked like he was caught off-guard by the question and he looked to Hamilton for help, who also had a rather startled look about him. But Cullen was looking for an answer, so he replied.
“She was captured,” he said, trying to put the words together to form a believable lie. He had to sound sorrowful, and he tried. “Cullen, we have been looking for you since… since it happened. In evading the king’s men, you also evaded us. We tried to find you.”
“And so you have,” Cullen took a step
closer. “Where did they take Lady Barklestone? And where is de Lacy in all of this? Does he know?”
Hamilton sighed in response. He hadn’t expected the conversation to turn this quickly to Lady Barklestone but, then again, he wasn’t all that surprised. Earlier, he and Godfrey had discussed what they needed to say, and what needed to happen once they came face to face with Cullen. But as he looked at the big knight, he could feel indecision creeping over him. That indecision was fed by the expression on Cullen’s face. If Hamilton had any doubt that the man was in love with Preston’s wife, Cullen’s expression confirmed everything he’d been told.
The man was in love with her.
He had to do this quickly or risk Cullen’s wrath.
“Dead,” Godfrey suddenly blurted before Hamilton could deliver the news more tactfully. In fact, Godfrey looked very nervous as he announced it. “She fought the guards who were trying to take her away and she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her neck.”
Hamilton looked at the man in shock because it had been the most uncouth way of informing Cullen. His words were spilling out all over the place and he was talking too quickly, making it look like he was anxious or, worse, lying. Quickly, Hamilton looked to Cullen.
“That is why we have been looking for you,” he said quietly. “We were afraid you would go looking for her and get yourself killed. What happened to her… she fell. The woman is a fighter, Cullen. She fought them and she fell. It was… it was an accident.”
Cullen hadn’t registered any emotion initially. He simply stood there and looked at them as if he didn’t quite understand what he was being told. But as they watched, the countenance of his face seemed to change and they could see his expression go slack. Then, he listed to the left as if he’d suddenly gone off-balance and his big shoulder rammed into the stone wall, supporting an entire body that clearly wanted to collapse.
“Dead,” he breathed. “She’s dead?”
Hamilton nodded. “No one killed her so you need not seek vengeance on behalf of the earl,” he said. “She simply fell down the stairs to the vault and broke her neck. De Lacy has been informed. He is making arrangements to send her body back to Herefordshire, to her father.”
It was a lie of the greatest proportions, but all quite believable. Both knights looked at Cullen, waiting for a reaction, wondering if they would need to defend themselves against his rage or if they would be comforting his broken heart. In painful silence, they waited, watching…
But Cullen did nothing more than hang his head as he processed what he’d been told. He leaned into the stone wall, putting his arm up and leaning his head against the upraised arm. He just stood there, leaning into his arm, not making a sound.
No rage, no groaning… only silence.
Godfrey and Hamilton passed concerned glances.
“Cullen?” Hamilton said. “Is there a problem? You can do no more for Lady Barklestone and it is imperative that we remove you from Westminster before the king’s men find you. Do you understand me, man?”
He was trying to pretend as if he hadn’t heard the rumors, as if he didn’t know why Cullen was so clearly grief-stricken. Perhaps part of him was trying to see if Cullen would admit anything but, so far, Cullen remained silent. He just stood there, his face pressed into his arm.
Grieving.
“Are you certain of this, Ham?” Cullen asked, his voice hoarse. “Did you see her body?”
They’d already lied their way into this situation deeply enough, so Hamilton saw no reason to stop there. If he was going to do this, with the objective of sending Cullen away from the House of de Lacy forever, then he needed to follow through.
“For de Lacy’s sake, I had to,” he said. “The man had to know his wife was gone.”
Cullen exhaled, long and slow, slumping back against the wall now. He was simply staring at his feet.
“And she was dead? There is no doubt.”
“No doubt, Cullen. She is dead.”
“And you swear this to me?”
“I’ve no reason not to.”
Cullen drew in a long, painful breath. “Oh, God,” he muttered after a moment. “I should have lowered her from the window first. I should not have left her.”
“There was nothing you could do,” Hamilton said, trying to be gentle, which seemed misplaced given the circumstances. “What is important now is that we must get you out of Westminster before they find you. I have a feeling they will not be so kind with you if you are captured.”
Cullen was still looking at his feet, radiating sorrow from every pore in his body. “Captured,” he whispered. Then, his head came up. “I was wrong. This is not my fault. This is your fault for bringing Lady Barklestone to the king in the first place. You did this, Ham.”
Hamilton’s eyes widened. He had hoped that accusation wouldn’t come back around, but it had. He was ready. “Cullen, I told you what happened,” he said as firmly as he could manage. “She had spilled wine on her gown. I took her to a chamber to change. I did not know the king was in it.”
Cullen snorted rudely, shaking his head at the man. “That is not what Lady Barklestone said.”
Hamilton threw up his hands. “She was upset,” he said. “She had just been attacked. Of course she had to find someone to blame.”
Cullen’s eyes were glittering at him, something deadly in the dark orbs. “Do you swear upon your oath as a knight that you did not obey the king’s summons and bring Lady Barklestone to him?”
Hamilton was already so far gone into his web of lies that one more wasn’t going to make a difference. He was already doomed. “I swear,” he said. “I did not know.”
“Then you are telling me that John simply followed you and slipped into the chamber when you were not looking?”
Hamilton was becoming flustered. “It is as good an explanation as any,” he said. “He was at the feast and surely saw Lady Barklestone. He saw me lead her from the hall and followed, which is not out of the realm of possibility for him. But none of that matters now, Cullen. What matters is that we remove you from Westminster immediately unless you wish for de Lacy to ship your body back to your father as well.”
Cullen pushed himself off the wall and took a few slow steps in Hamilton’s direction. “I am not going anywhere with you,” he said. “Do not think to escort me out of here. For all I know, you would be taking me straight to the king, too. How much has he paid you, Ham? How much has he paid you both?”
He was looking between Godfrey and Hamilton now, his expression taut with suspicion. Hamilton was starting to back away but Godfrey was over by the steps that led down to the river and, subsequently, trapped should Cullen charge. In fact, it was clear by the look on his face that the man was starting to feel some panic.
“Cullen, think!” Godfrey said. “Why would we take you to the king now? We have served with you in battle for lo these two years now, and you have trusted us with your life. Why turn on us now when we are trying to help you?”
The problem was that Cullen was thinking too much. And feeling too much. His chest was tight, full of hot rage, and he felt as if he were ready to explode. But that didn’t compare to the grief he was feeling, grief he blamed on the two men before him. He was blinded by sorrow, feeling as if he wanted to collapse with it. But at the moment, he hadn’t the luxury of a release. He was cornered and needed to get out of Westminster and collect Regal.
Regal…
God, he had no idea what he was going to tell the old woman. Her granddaughter was dead and, now, the only link Cullen had to Teodora was the blind old woman. His sense of protection toward her was surging, and he knew he had to get them both out of Westminster before they were captured. He couldn’t help Teodora, but he could help her grandmother.
He knew that was what Teodora would have wanted.
Oh, God… my sweet Teddy…
“I do not know what subversion you are both involved in, because I do not have time to find out, but know that I will find out,” he s
aid. “And I will find you. Mark my words.”
Hamilton didn’t know what more to say to him. He was afraid if he said anything more, Cullen’s composure might snap and his neck right along with it. So he backed away, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture, unwilling to provoke a man who had been pushed past his limit.
Unfortunately, Godfrey was not so silent. He was a man who couldn’t stand tension and his instinct was to plead his case, to make things right between him and Cullen. He was running off at the mouth.
“You cannot return to Preston now,” he said. “You cannot even return to your father, Cullen. Your father serves the crown and it will create great conflict within him if he harbors his fugitive son. You would create terrible turmoil for him.”
Cullen looked at Godfrey, a rather dead-eyed expression, as if everything inside him were dead. “You’ll not tell me of my duty toward my father,” he grumbled. “You’ll not even speak his name.”
Godfrey put up his hands, much as Hamilton had done. “I am simply saying that you cannot go to anyone you know and hide with them,” he said. “You would be putting them in great peril. But… but I have a cousin, Lord Geddington of Geddington Castle. It is south of Rockingham, in Northamptonshire. He would not know you, you see, and you could tell him that I sent you. Do not give him your real name; simply make up a name and he does not have to know who you are. Do you understand what I am saying, Cullen? Go to my cousin under an assumed identity until this situation settles itself. Mayhap… mayhap someday you can return to your father. But until you can, you can no longer be Cullen de Nerra.”
In truth, Cullen had been close to taking the man’s head off and throwing his body into the slip with the others he’d killed, but something in what he said made some sense. Cullen had Regal to think of now and, although he wasn’t really responsible for the woman and could have just as easily returned her to Cerenbeau Castle, there was something in him that couldn’t quite let her go. The grief that was consuming him included that old woman as well, as if, somehow, she could help ease it.
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