“M’lady, you should be resting,” her maid counseled.
“I am finished with resting,” Anna affirmed, relishing the new sense of purpose that filled her.
Chapter Nineteen—Threats and Oaths
When Roger finally returned to Stolweg from his latest foray south, he brought with him gifts from Chevring. His wife had not even known he was visiting there. And why should she? His marriage had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with advancing his grand plan. She was simply the means to his end. The gifts from her family were intended for her: several gowns and a few baubles from her mother. And from her father, additional broodmares, a few already with foal.
And there she waited, standing so stoically in the center of his chamber, ready to do his bidding. He been gone nearly a month and had hoped to see a growing abdomen upon his return.
Aubrianne might be proficient at breeding his horses, but she was a complete failure at giving his seed a home in her womb—he pressed the nib of his quill too hard, and it collapsed, leaving an untidy ink splotch on the ledger. His father had sired so many bastards, Roger had lost count. Even his brother, still unwed, was rumored to have a brat or two. Roger patiently cut a new quill, and made some notations regarding the lumber he’d sold to his wife’s father, dragging him further into debt.
Everything had gone according to plan, everything except getting Aubrianne with child. He closed the ledger, set down his quill, and pulled out the latest letter from his father. He’d already read it, had it memorized in fact, but there was something about his father’s penmanship that tugged at Roger. For as tyrannical as his father could be, Roger worshipped him.
Which was why he hadn’t yet replaced his wife. He was within his rights; no man would argue the point. She was barren, and therefore was in breach of the marriage contract. But his father ordered him to be patient, for Aubrianne was still useful in her capacity as a horse breeder. And he couldn’t fault her management of the keep, though she was too familiar with the servants. One year more, his father had written, or two, and Roger would be free to dispose of her as he wished. In the meantime, he should continue to try to plant his seed, in his wife or any other woman for that matter.
Before Roger could think about the replacement he’d chosen for his wife, there was some important business that needed tending, and he folded the letter into a neat square before tossing it into the hearth. He turned toward the object of his consternation and saw the highlights in her untamed mass of hair glint brighter as the letter took flame.
• • •
As Anna waited, she asked herself what Roger had given her family in return for the additional broodmares; she prayed her father was not more indebted to him. When she’d entered the room, she had noticed a new trunk in the corner behind his desk and recognized it as one of her mother’s. She might not ever know its contents.
A flash in the hearth brought her abruptly from her ponderings, and she was startled to see that Roger was walking toward her. She shivered in her nakedness, but not because she was cold. Her husband wished to examine the scars on her back. Anna’s skin twitched in protest as he touched the wounds. Surprisingly, he bade her dress again. She had no sooner refastened the ties of her wedding gown when there was a knock at his door.
“Enter,” her husband ordered. “Ah, Gorman, on time for once. What think you? The Lady of Stolweg seems restored.”
“I didn’t expect to see her so quickly recovered, m’lord,” he replied, his tone etched with disappointment.
“I have been wondering about you of late, Aubrianne,” her husband said. “You have overstepped your bounds a number of times. And I have been patient, amused by your spirit. But the lesson for the stable hand proved to be one for me as well. Do not pretend to me that you do not wish me dead. I would like to hear you admit this truth.”
She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Your request is my pleasure, m’lord.” He slapped her hard across the face, and she tasted the blood inside her mouth where her teeth had cut into her cheek.
“Before you plan my demise, know this, wife: I have soldiers stationed at Chevring. They have been ordered to kill every man, woman, and child upon hearing of my death. You have a sister, do you not? Claire, I believe. Should I send word that you need her? Such a beautiful girl. Do you think she would adapt to a new life here?”
Gorman snickered. With so many soldiers moving in and out of Stolweg at night, Roger could easily have sent some to Chevring.
“You may want to know why I have invited Gorman into my chamber this evening,” her husband taunted. “It is so I can be sure that you understand the consequences of any actions that you, or others, might take against me.”
He looked at the brute standing next to her. “Gorman, I ask you to swear this oath: should I die, by accident or foul means, you will take my lovely wife, Lady Aubrianne, and kill her. However, if you find yourself tempted by her beauty, I would understand a few hours’ delay.”
Anna stood, unwavering, as Gorman repeated the oath. Checkmate, she thought.
“Good night, Gorman,” Roger said, dismissing him before coming to stand behind her. “I think you now understand your position here, Aubrianne,” Roger whispered. “You may return to your room; come back to me two nights hence.”
Defeated, Anna made her way back to her chamber. Roger now controlled her completely; the fate of her family rested in his hands. She prayed for them.
Two nights later, she returned and waited for Roger to acknowledge her. “Step over to the bed, Aubrianne,” he politely ordered, stripping his breeches as he followed her. And as he took her, he whispered into her ear, “Do you think your sister will enjoy her time here?”
He said will, Anna realized, not would.
After he finished, Anna made her way to her chamber. This night, like all the others, he had taken her from behind. She was amazed by his lack of foresight, for gazing into his loathsome face would be a torture she could never survive. And except for the day they were married, she had yet to suffer a single filthy kiss from his wretched lips. Even then, he had only kissed her forehead.
In the safety of her rooms, two thoughts crystallized in her mind: one, her husband’s perversion knew no bounds, and two, perhaps it was finally time to try the saltpeter.
Chapter Twenty—Winter’s Tapestry
Winter was coming early; Anna could taste it in the air as she rode ahead of the mares. She studied the gray landscape. Barely November, and the once beautifully colored foliage was no longer lying in soft mounds upon the earth but crackling and blowing wildly with each passing gust. She thought of Lia, sent far from the keep. Her babe would’ve been born by now, and Anna wondered if it was a boy or girl. She patted Tullian’s neck as they watched over his brood.
Her efforts since arriving at Stolweg were noteworthy. Seven additions to Roger’s stable, and four more expected. At Chevring, Anna had memorized the old breeding journals. There had been times when the mares had been bred from one year to the next, in some cases spanning a decade. It had been the Great War that had spawned such an aggressive breeding program. So why did Stolweg need so many horses? Roger’s answer pointed to the King’s tournaments. As excuses went, his was feeble. Anna saw no indication that he’d ever entered a single tournament, and according to Cellach, Roger’s armor hadn’t left the armory in years.
Her own reasons for such a prolific success were much less complicated. If almost every mare in the stable were with foal, Roger would need her. She pushed this depressing thought aside.
Of late, he had been pressuring her to complete the training of the foals early; he wanted the first two to be given to the King and his heir. Anna had explained that it would take at least three years to produce a true Chevring steed. He gave her two. Although she had no choice but to accept his terms, she managed to give one of her own. Her time away from the keep would have to increase in order to spend more time preparing the young horses. An added benefit was that she woul
dn’t be subjected overmuch to her husband’s evil predilections.
She’d been using the saltpeter, and although its effects were slow to manifest, her husband’s virility was suffering. It had taken her awhile to overcome her embarrassment when using the fool’s pipe, for it had to be applied to the area that would come into most contact with her husband. Even now, Anna blushed thinking about it. Mixed with her balm, Roger hadn’t noticed; the scent of lavender always lingered about her.
• • •
In the quiet of her room, Anna gazed at the tapestries covering the thick stone walls of her chamber. She began pacing in front of one. It was the third of five in her chamber, and together they told a story of love and courtship. She’d always hated them.
The first tapestry showed a lady traveling with her escorts at the exact moment at which her party was beset. The second depicted a lord coming to the rescue and assailing the enemy. The lady sat her horse with her hand over her heart, gazing at the man who battled to save her. Next in line was the largest; it depicted the courtship of the lord and lady.
Upon the fourth tapestry was woven the story of a hunt. It was one of two flanking the fireplace. A great stag had been stitched upon it, head alert, body poised to bound away from impending danger. The lord had his bow at the ready, but his lady’s hand rested on his arm. Anna had always found this tapestry most intriguing. Did the lord spare the stag or did he loose his arrow?
The final tapestry, in front of which she now stood, showed a great wedding feast. In the center was a bonfire. The lord and lady presided over the gathering, their hands clasped. It was the most romantic of the tapestries, she thought ruefully. It annoyed her completely.
Anna studied the fourth wall hanging again, the one she dubbed “The Hunt.” About to move on, she noticed a peculiarity. The lady looked at neither the stag nor her lord. Instead, her face was tilted toward the upper left corner of the tapestry. Anna searched the scene on the tapestry, trying to locate the object of the lady’s attention. There was nothing but the decorative border.
But the design on the upper corner was oddly familiar. With a stool and standing on tiptoes, Anna could just make out the image. It was a bird’s-eye view of Stolweg Keep. Along the interior square of the castle, a purl of silver had been stitched, neatly linking each of the four corner towers. The towers holding her chamber and the western chamber were wholly outlined in the same thread. When the stool tottered, she reached for purchase, pushing the tapestry against the wall. The shadows shifted over the weave’s surface to reveal another gilded strand. Amazingly, through the years of wear, she could see a thin, silver line trailing outward from the west tower in the direction of where the chapel stood.
Anna’s heart beat faster. Could these tapestries have hidden an age-old secret all these years: hidden passageways in the keep? And what of the thread that extended from the west tower? Anna studied the tapestry again—not the scene, but the construction and materials that made it. The woven threads were probably as old as the keep itself. Had the architects added secret passageways and sewn the clues into the tapestry?
With racing heart, Anna walked back to the courtship panel and examined the corners. Only one corner was different. The pattern was an exact match to the outline of her chamber. In the dim light, she could see a faint purl on the upper right edge of the square.
Taking her bearings from the tapestry, she deduced that if there were a passage, the entrance would be behind the tapestry to the right of the hearth. She walked over to “The Wedding Feast” and looked at the panel’s four corners. Each depicted the same image: a four-petaled rose with a door in the center. She pulled the heavy hanging away from the wall and discovered a recess, perhaps only a foot deep. But the mortared stones showed no seam, nor crack, nor hinge. But there, set high above her head—a carved rosette with thorny vine! The same Stolweg rose pattern that was prevalent throughout the castle.
Anna raced back to the courtship tapestry again. In the center of the diamond depicting her chamber was a four-petaled rose complete with vine. She looked anew at the upper corner. A symbol resembling a keyhole was centered in the rose.
There had to be a release of some kind to open the passageway. She had to be missing something. Anna stood back and took in the wedding feast tapestry as a whole. The lord and lady stood between a great bonfire and a table laden with food. The lady’s hands were open and extended as if bidding her guests welcome, directing them to the flames. But why not to the banquet table?
She peered at the stitching that made up the fire. The wood appeared to be wood. The smoke curled like smoke, replete with bits of ash floating to the heavens. The oath that Anna let out was neither quiet nor proper. The dark bits were not specks of ash, but miniature keyholes. Fire and smoke, another clue!
She flew back to her fireplace. Ornately carved, the Stolweg rose flourished on the mantel and along the sides of the hearth.
“Aha!” she exclaimed upon locating a rosette with a keyhole symbol. It was about the size of her palm. When she pushed at the carving, the stone moved a finger’s width, and so easily that she thought it had not moved at all. She had expected to hear some click of a latch, a grating of stone upon stone. She did not even feel a draft.
Anna peeked behind the tapestry, half afraid that she would find the alcove as solid as it was before and half afraid of seeing a dark, gaping void. As it turned out, she saw neither. But the alcove had changed. There was now a distinct delineation of an entrance carved into the stone. She pushed against the wall, and it moved effortlessly.
She took a deep breath and passed through the opening. Just as quickly, she stepped back into her chamber. An irrational fear swept through her: the entrance could close, leaving her locked in the stone passageway forever. She grabbed a log from the hearth and wedged it in the gap, only to laugh at her overcautiousness once she found the matching release inside the opening.
The passageway turned to the left where a short flight of stairs ascended behind her fireplace. Forcing her racing heart to slow, Anna stepped carefully up the stairs and found a short stretch of hallway to the right followed by two sets of steps going in opposite directions. Imagining the design of the keep, she deduced that the steps hugging the chimney had been created to take a person up and over the hallway that connected the four chambers. It was the only way that such a connecting passage could exist along the inner square of the castle.
Anna skipped down the steps. She walked to the east tower, to Cellach’s quarters and the armory. Exactly where she thought they would be, she found another set of steps. But she continued and found the descending steps to the right, leading northwest. All in all, there were four passageways leading to four sets of steps, ending at the four main chambers of the keep.
With Roger away, she could secretly enter his chamber with no person the wiser. She took a deep breath and walked to her destination. In her mind, she counted off the same number of steps that it took her to reach Roger’s chamber all those nights before. One, two, three, four… Soon, the lantern’s glow revealed the steps that would take her over the corridor and into the north chamber. She touched the stone on the back of his hearth. The wall was reassuringly cool, confirming his absence.
Anna raised her light and located the release that would allow her entrance to the room that had been her private hell. Setting her lantern on the floor, not wanting its light to alert anyone who might be below Roger’s windows, she pulled the door open.
Anna needn’t have worried about her lamp, as the window shutters were sealed, and thick drapes had been drawn over the large leaded glass window. Still, she was cautious when retrieving her lantern and thrice-shuttered the candle’s glow through the translucent horn panels. She stepped over to Roger’s massive desk, and then stared down at the neat piles of parchment and ledger books. With utmost care, she rolled back the documents one by one, keeping an anchoring fingertip on the bottom edge of the stack. She was halfway through the second pile when she saw one of Ce
llach’s drawings. But she had barely registered the notations regarding materials and measurements when her eye caught something much more dear.
In a neat script, as familiar as her own, was her father’s writing. Pages and pages of it. She realized that what she was seeing were torn-out sheets from one of the many ledgers at Chevring. Notations concerning mares and their offspring and debts paid to Roger were meticulously entered. And on the last page, next to a payment of lumber, a pen different from her father’s appeared. The letters were long, deeply scrolled, and elegant: Roger’s hand. There was only one word and a number: Mordemur 10.
She whispered the word, a person’s name perhaps. In the silence of the chamber, her hushed voice echoed in the corners of the cavernous room. She glanced down at the desk, checking to make sure she had left everything as she had found it. The hour was growing late, and not wanting to push her luck, Anna walked quickly to the secret passage.
When she returned to her chamber, she thought about her discoveries and what they could mean. Why had her father parted with his ledger sheets? And who on earth was Mordemur? Had he anything to do with the lumber?
Anna thought again of the silver thread on the tapestry that indicated an egress from the castle to the chapel. There had to be another secret passage, and she was determined to find it.
Chapter Twenty-One—King’s Notice
As the storms of March continued to roar, the horses became restless. Weeks of being kept to the paddocks and stable were taking their toll on man and beast alike. When the first sunny day appeared with its brilliant skies, Anna, Gilles, and Will took the herd straight to the southeast hills. They remained away from the keep for seven days and nights, before returning to find Roger gone already for six. When he didn’t return the next day, or the next after that, the group of conspirators decided to meet. They chose to rendezvous in the Chapel. Word was spread.
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