Wild Lavender

by Nicole Elizabeth Kelleher

  Arrangements were made to keep the unwanted away, a detail left to Grainne and Doreen. Cellach eyed the group. Clearing his throat, he suggested, “Shall we commence?”

  “Not yet, Cellach,” Anna stated. “I’ve asked one other to join us.” The door opened. Every voice fell silent as Will entered, followed by Carrick. Many a curious eye went from the miller to Doreen and Gilles and back.

  Anna motioned for him to take a seat next to her. Carrick regarded everyone, daring them to challenge his presence. He saved Will’s parents for last. “Doreen, Gilles,” he started solemnly, “I am sorry for my daughter Maggie’s part in your family’s pain.”

  Doreen managed a smile. “My thanks for your words, Carrick. You are as welcome here as any of us.”

  At Anna’s nod, Cellach began. “I’ve been tracking the number of men coming through Stolweg, strangers all. Lord Roger has even made a point of speaking openly about them from time to time, claiming that they are wool merchants from Ragallach.”

  Carrick harrumphed. “Wool merchants, my arse. Pardon, m’lady,” he apologized after being elbowed by Grainne. “Ev’ry merchant I’ve met carries samples of his wares. Those crossing the mill’s causeway carry nothing but metal strapped to their belts, though they try to hide it.”

  “I’ve seen some of them. Soldiers,” Anna stated. “Cellach, do you know where they go after leaving here?”

  “Not for certain, m’lady,” he said. “I’ve followed their tracks as far south as the mountain pass into Chevring. Some have gone back in the direction of Ragallach, though they take the treacherous route to bypass Cathmara. And a few have gone west.”

  “And the men not bothering to disguise their trade?” Anna asked. “How many of these soldiers are still here at the keep?”

  “Nine, at least,” Gilles stated. “We’ve been seeing to their horses.”

  “More like fifteen,” Doreen corrected, “judging by the food I’ve been sending to the barracks. Not all soldiers ride, my dear.”

  “Double that number for the men he sends on regular patrols,” Anna said. “Cellach, Stolweg has how many strongholds along the coast? Four?” He nodded. “Are they all manned?”

  He nodded again. “Lord John, Lady Isabel’s father, awarded the strongholds to his most trusted men, all lesser nobles of Stolweg who fought valiantly during the Great War. Their families still live there—at least, they did when last I toured the strongholds with Lord Roger. Each has its servants, farmers, and tradesmen, as well as its own complement of soldiers.”

  “When was the last time you visited one of the strongholds?” she asked.

  “Three months before Lord Roger married you, m’lady,” he replied. “He has kept me tied to the area around the keep and has sent Gorman instead.”

  Anna was silent for a moment, half listening to the others share their opinions on the number of men her husband was moving into and through Stolweg. “It is only natural that he would want some of his men from Ragallach here,” she mused. “No one would think it odd. He could slowly replace all the men who were once loyal to Lord John, one by one, moving them to the remote strongholds.” She glanced up, surprised that every eye was on her. “Lord Roger has been doing this since before I came to Stolweg, hasn’t he?” Cellach nodded. “And how many men here—the soldiers, I mean—are from the old watch?”

  “Maybe five,” Cellach replied dismally.

  “It’ll be four tomorrow,” Gilles amended. “Old Tom’s son, Jorah, is leaving in the morning.”

  Anna turned to Cellach to speak but was interrupted by a chirp of warning. Will had been posted near the entrance to the chapel and had given the signal that meant there was movement near the barracks. “We’ve been here too long,” Doreen worried. Anna nodded, and the group dispersed.

  • • •

  Cellach waited until only he and Lady Aubrianne remained. His respect for her grew every time he met with her. “That was either the most dangerous stunt that you pulled with Carrick or the most brilliant. What made you think to include him?”

  She pondered his question before answering him. “Call it a hunch,” she said with a shrug. “What do you think, Cellach?”

  “I’ve wanted to include Carrick for the last year or so. I only hesitated out of deference to you, Lady Aubrianne. It was a good thing you did today. He is an honest man and can be counted on despite his foolish daughter. What did you say to him?”

  “Actually, he brought up the subject.” When Cellach raised his eyebrows in alarm, Lady Aubrianne continued, “Rest easy, Cellach. He started by telling me how he’d heard about Maggie’s involvement in Will’s flogging. He asked how he could approach Doreen and Gilles to express his sorrow over his daughter’s lack of judgment.”

  “And this led you to invite him into our circle?”

  “I admit it was part of it,” she answered. “Then he shared an interesting story with me.”

  Cellach listened as Lady Aubrianne related Carrick’s tale.

  “He rode east a few weeks ago, needing a part to repair a piece of machinery. The only person he trusted with the job was a blacksmith just within the borders of Whitmarsh. On the way, he saw the tracks of a single rider, tracks going east. He only noticed them because they seemed to appear from nowhere. The next day, he stopped at the Crossroads Inn rather than camping in the woods. He was spooked and wanted company.

  “While eating his supper—and these are Carrick’s exact words—‘A bear of a man entered the inn. He scanned the empty tables, then chose to sit with me. It was his eyes that gave me pause. Everything about his hulking figure reeked of violence. Everything except his eyes.’ Carrick told me that the innkeeper went to great lengths to please the man.”

  Cellach had been hoping to hear some news to this effect. “Did he tell you the man’s name?”

  “Yes,” his lady replied. “His name was Trian.”

  Cellach leaned back against the wall. A rare and thoughtful smile played on his lips, and his mistress inquired, “Do you know him, Cellach?”

  “No. But I’ve heard of him. He’s of the Royal Guard. What else did Carrick say?”

  “He said that this man, Trian, was interested in the goings-on at Stolweg and asked what news could be had. He also asked that his interest not be imparted to the wrong ears upon the miller’s return. Trian offered Carrick some coin for information, coin that Carrick refused.”

  Cellach’s elation plummeted.

  Lady Aubrianne continued, “Carrick said that he was taken by Trian’s forthrightness. And knowing the innkeeper was a good man and a sound judge of character, he offered information freely. Our wonderful miller told Trian all about dear Lord Roger, his frequent departures, his abuse of the people, the strangers coming and going at all hours from the keep. Bless Carrick, he even told this Trian that despite the spring, the days were still too dark at Stolweg.”

  “You realize what this means, m’lady?” Cellach said as he walked with her through the courtyard. “Not only has the King taken an interest in the activities here, he is now aware of our plight.”

  “Carrick said almost the same. It was right afterward that he asked me if he could do anything. Not ready to reveal our group, I asked him what he meant and he told me this: ‘There’s change in the wind; I can smell it. Trouble’s brewing, and I want to be on the right side when it comes. Like I told that man Trian, loyalty and trust come cheap if the right person asks. It’s only the wrong side that finds those qualities expensive.’ I told our miller that I would send word if I needed him. So today I sent Will to ask him to join us.”

  Lady Aubrianne paused outside the entrance to the keep. “Cellach,” she said quietly, “we must have more information if we are to protect ourselves. If Roger is acting against the good of the realm, we mustn’t be implicated. Do you trust Jorah enough to do reconnaissance for us?”

  Cellach nodded, seeing where his lady was going. “It could work,” he said. “Yes, yes, it could work.”

  “Excellent,”
she stated. “I’ll leave you to it and bid you goodnight.”

  Before she could step through the door, Cellach added, “Thank you, m’lady. It is good to finally take action after all these years.”

  She agreed, but added, “This is only the beginning, Cellach.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two—Escape Route

  They had risked much in meeting together with Roger’s return imminent. Anna was pleased that her friends were preparing for the worst, but she wanted more than a plan based solely on defending herself. She needed something much more tangible: an escape route, one she could share with the others if necessary. So, while she and Grainne supped together, Anna asked her maid about the tapestries.

  “Lady Isabel loved these old tapestries. She told me they were a gift from the first lord of Stolweg to his wife. This has always been the lady’s chamber, you see. And the story depicted is true.”

  Grainne pointed to the second tapestry. “Yon lord came to her rescue, defeating the ruffians. It turned out that the lady was the youngest daughter of the King. He was so grateful to have his daughter safely returned that he awarded the lord with title and the lands that are now Stolweg. The King also gave the lord his daughter as wife. They fell in love while the keep was constructed.

  “I always liked to believe that the lady’s favorite flower was the rose,” Grainne added wistfully, “and that is why it is carved everywhere.”

  Anna smiled at Grainne’s romantic streak. “It may well have been her favorite flower, but I think its meaning goes much deeper.” Anna pointed to the four petals. “Each of the four petals represents one of the four corners of the castle. And the thorny vine gives three-sided protection, like the river flowing around us.”

  “I never noticed that, m’lady. Too much of the old history has faded,” she said with a sigh.

  “But you are right too, Grainne,” Anna added. “Without fail, the lady on the tapestries either is holding a rose or has the flower embroidered on her garments. She would’ve been a kindred spirit with my mother.”

  After Grainne departed, Anna slipped into her most serviceable breeches and tunic. She picked up her lantern and hurried to the tapestries for one last look. The purled corners, she knew, revealed the secret passage like a legend on a map. Perhaps there was more to learn, she thought, kneeling to study the details along the bottom edge for further clues. The lower right corner showed the outline of what had to be the west chamber. Stitched into the center of the rosette was a cross. Anna brushed the dust from the tapestry and held her flame closer. There, she thought, a gilded stitch that must certainly represent the chamber’s great window.

  Next, she went to the lower left corner’s design. Although there was no silver thread, the rosette offered one last clue: in its center, a table with three lines underneath. Perhaps the west chamber would reveal its meaning. Anna walked determinedly to her fireplace and pressed the special rosette that would open the passageway behind the tapestry.

  Before long, she silently entered the vacant west chamber, dimmed her light, and crossed the room to the window. If the silver thread on the tapestry in her chamber represented what she believed, she would find some sort of latch on the window seat below the mullioned glass of the great west-facing window.

  The moon, gibbous-waning, barely pierced the slit in the heavy drapes, so Anna moved her lantern closer and ran her hand over the ancient wood of the bench. Smoothed by years of use, its patina was rich and beautiful even in the dim light. The seat back featured the Stolweg rose, but something had once been carved in its center. All that remained now was the outline of a rectangle with two curved lines below it. Anna then studied the carved rosettes that ran under the lip of the seat, feeling for one that was different from the others. She found it, moments later, on the left side. Within its center, a flame had been carved. She pressed it.

  The banquette tipped forward to reveal another passageway. In the space below the seat were steps so steep she mistook them for ladder rungs. After pulling the seat closed above her, she climbed down cautiously and stood breathlessly on a narrow landing. Only by turning sideways was she able to move behind the staircase and descend a second set of steps, then a third.

  Her light revealed a tunnel with a ceiling supported by wooden beams so old they might have been made of stone. The air around her was stale and dry, without the slightest stirring.

  She peered ahead into the darkness but was unable to make out the end of the tunnel. A wood planking system had been laid down, smothering any noise of footfall as she moved forward. The only sound came from her heartbeat and her excited breath.

  Finally, Anna saw steps. After walking up the short flight, she found herself in a small alcove. Anna found the release latch and pressed. The outline of her egress silently emerged. She took a deep breath and pulled at the door.

  After her travels through the dry and dusty underground corridor, the smell of beeswax and incense assaulted her senses. In front of her was an ornately carved panel. Seeing it from the reverse, it took Anna a moment to recognize that she was standing behind the wood backdrop for the devotional candles. The passage had delivered her into the chapel.

  Except for a few sputtering votives, the church was deserted. The moon was high now, and its beams streamed through the windows, illuminating the colored glass, infusing the air with soft jewel tones. It was beautiful, she thought, as if she’d stepped into a rainbow.

  Where would the next passageway lead her? The chapel was within the curtain wall and offered no chance of escape. Anna stared across the vaulted room. The sanctuary was simple in design, with a plain altar of veined marble resting upon two stone piers. Her gasp echoed through the space as she realized that the form was identical to the depiction on the tapestry in her chamber. Not a table, as she had guessed, but an altar. Mayhap the three lines represented the steps behind it.

  The pull of discovering a link to yet another tunnel was too great. There was one last clue to unravel: the rectangle with the two curved lines. She stepped quickly behind the altar, then allowed her fingers to do more work than her eyes. They better recognized the oft repeated carving of the rosette as she ran them over the cool stone. If the architects had hidden another tunnel, they would have placed its release as near to the opening as possible.

  The pattern under her fingertips was intricate. Carved in stone, the rosettes’ vines trailed and interlaced with one another. To the far right, one rosette was different.

  She scanned the expanse of the chapel one last time. Assured that she was still alone, she pushed the carved stone button. In the empty church, a barely audible snick sounded. Following the noise, Anna returned to the front of the altar and lowered herself to the main floor. And there it was, after two years, the secret that had been right in front of her each and every time she came to pray for succor.

  The panel on the right had shifted to reveal a small gap. The carved wood glided smoothly to the side. She moved her lamp into the opening and peered into the shadowed pocket. The space was about as wide as the platform supporting the altar. Anna crawled through the opening and discovered a dark hole with steeply carved steps, mere toe- and handholds cut into a nearly vertical wall. The air was cool and damp, and the farther she climbed down, the moister the stone surface became. She breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched flat rock. The stone floor descended at a shallow grade, a hundred paces at least, before gradually changing to an incline.

  When she reached yet another set of steps, she climbed quickly to the landing and held her lamp aloft. Carved into the lintel of an arched door, she read aloud, “Be Not Afraid to Enter Our Home. Unlike You, We Are at Rest.” Releasing the latch, she stepped into the darkness. The barracks! Her mind screamed, and she stepped quickly back and away from the sleeping men. She suddenly realized where she stood. This was the old crypt. The supine men and women were carved of stone.

  Months ago, she had explored this exact spot. She stepped to its inner, solid oak door, opening it to reveal an
old metal gate, its latch long broken from disuse. It was probably the only mechanical thing that was in disrepair at Stolweg. She waited until she was in the safety of the tunnel before shouting with joy. If the time came, she had the means to escape the keep and its curtain wall undetected!

  In the coming months, she explored the passageways whenever she was able, formulating plan after plan only to discard them. Each plan resulted in the death of her family. It wasn’t until spring came around once more that Anna realized what would be required of her. She shivered. The cost due for saving her family would be more than Roger’s life.

  Chapter Twenty-Three—King’s Glen

  Lord Baldric of Whitmarsh, the King’s most trusted adviser, was troubled. He’d been at King’s Glen and in council with King Godwin for a week now. Like weeds, the answers they sought only served to propagate new questions. Everything circled back to Lord Roger. Stolweg was too important an asset to the realm’s protection to have someone with questionable motives in place as its leader.

  Baldric sat next to King Godwin at the large table in Glen Hall. With him were assembled the elite of the Royal Guard: Larkin and Warin, Trian and Tomas, and Ailwen. In times of war, these five men would be Baldric’s captains. They had gathered to discuss Lord Roger.

  Trian, Larkin’s closest friend, had returned from his mission and was reporting his findings. He had just finished describing the group of people moving horses to different grazing areas, explaining that the herd was always confined to the fertile hills and woods to the south and southeast of Stolweg Keep.

  With a nod from the King, Baldric finally spoke, choosing his words carefully. “Let us start with the most obvious. Trian, do you believe the group with the horses could be doing other than that which they appeared to be doing?”