Through The Leaded Glass

by Fennell, Judi

  He pulled the skirt up her legs, worked her arms through the gold shirt, slid the surcoat and odd shoes on. His gnarled fingers made tying the laces too difficult so he let them hang open, but it didn’t matter. It would drive Alex mad with jealousy wondering if he’d already had her.

  He smiled to himself as he set to the difficult task of tying her hands to the stake pounded into the earth behind her. Those knots he would be certain to secure.

  His plan was infallible.

  ***

  Alex didn’t return to his bed after leaving Kate’s chamber. He wouldn’t have slept.

  Instead, unwilling to be alone with his thoughts, he dressed and headed to the hall. The men were stirring, as were the hounds in front of the fire. Alex smiled. Kate hadn’t yet won that battle.

  He joined the men, tossed a sack of gold onto the table, and grabbed a piece of freshly baked bread Beatrice set before him. “Thomas, see to it that Lawrence gets his reward for informing me about the tradesman. It ought to keep him from disturbing Hester or any other woman.”

  Thomas picked up the bag. “He’s not there, my lord. I sent some men to fetch him early this morn and they said his cottage was empty.”

  Matthew nodded. “Rumor has it he went to Farley’s, if you can believe it. I say we let that bastard deal with him.”

  Alex lowered his bread. Lawrence with Farley? On the heels of pointing him in the direction of the merchant and a similar window?

  He never liked coincidence.

  He checked the angle of the sun. Hours to go before Kate’s appointment.

  He would pay Farley a visit in the interim.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Torn leaves and broken branches, remnants of the night’s storm, littered the ground between his and Farley’s holdings, the trodden road a sea of mud. Herald pounded through it, splattering his silky black coat and the men’s boots all the way to Simon’s gatehouse.

  “Tell your lord I demand entrance,” Alex called to the men on the gatehouse where Farley’s colors snapped in the cool wind. He didn’t like to be kept waiting, especially after so little sleep, and Farley’s stall tactics were unimpressive. Nothing would deter him from learning why Lawrence had opted to live here, nor how Farley had enticed him. And how it played into the events at Shelton.

  Or… if it didn’t.

  At last, amid creaking chains, the wood and iron lattice gate was opened. Alex was under it the moment it cleared his head and halfway up the steps to the keep by the time it was fully raised. Mud from his boots left a trail of filth as he stormed through Farley’s home. How appropriate.

  “And who is it now, Shelton, who enters a home unannounced?” Farley turned from his steward and rested an elbow above the stone fireplace, crossing one boot over the other. “Shall I offer you the same greeting you gave me?” He reached above the mantle to graze the tip of one of two crossed swords hanging beneath the black phoenix amid a field of orange on the Farley crest.

  “What are you planning?” Alex kicked a bench out of his way. It knocked against another, the two of them overturning with a clatter against the oak floor.

  “Planning?” Farley’s brow arched as he glanced at the pile.

  “Do not play me for a fool, Simon.” Alex grabbed a chair and tossed it out of his way. “You accuse me of theft and murder, and now you lure one of the freeman to your lands. You’re up to something.”

  “What I’m up to, Shelton,” said Farley as he pushed past him, “is seeing you hang for Calista’s murder. King Henry has granted my request for an audience. You’ll receive a summons shortly.” He crossed his arms with a knowing smile stretched across his face.

  Alex wanted to punch it off. “What about Lawrence?”

  “Who?”

  “The freeman who told me a curious and opportune tale, then vacated his home on my lands without collecting his reward and has come to live here. Surely you remember him.”

  “A man I commend for his good sense, though I would have waited until I’d taken your gold.” Farley sat down and stretched his legs.

  “You deny you plotted against me with him?”

  “Such a harsh accusation, Alex.” Farley waved his steward over for a cup of wine. “With implications I don’t like. Why would you think so? Unless, perhaps Shelton isn’t the harmonious home you proclaim it to be.” He cocked the cup in a mock salute. “Which should make it easier to find others to support my claim against you.”

  “You’re blinded by jealousy, not lost in grief. I had nothing to do with Calista’s death, nothing to gain. Think about it, Simon. Why would I waste my efforts on an act punishable by hanging when I can, and do, best you within the confines of the law at every challenge?”

  “Because you wanted to take something I cared of from me.”

  “I want nothing of yours and if you were thinking rationally, you’d know that. However, I might know who did.”

  Farley flew to his feet and flung the cup into the fireplace. “I knew it—”

  “No you don’t. Sit and listen.” Alex pulled up a chair and sat, swiping a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t looking forward to sharing this information, but if the two incidents were related, he needed whatever information Simon had. It only made sense that whoever had taken William would do anything to make Alex’s life hell. “There’s a madman in my home.”

  “And his name is Alex.”

  “Do you want to find Calista’s killer or will this feud you have with me color your actions? For the last time, I didn’t kill her.” He pulled Calista’s necklace from his purse. “Here. For you. To prove it.”

  Farley took the jewels, then sat down, his cockiness gone. “If you didn’t, then who—”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, Simon. Someone attempted to steal my son. Items have been stolen from my keep. Animals taken. Someone wants my downfall. I believe he killed Calista to make it look as if it were me.”

  “A convenient story.”

  “Think, Simon—would I endanger my own son? My only heir? You know me better than that. I simply don’t care enough about you to put my life, my family’s name, at risk.”

  Farley rested his forearms on his knees and looked into the flames. “But if not you, then who?”

  “That’s what I have to discover. I need you to think who might have wanted her dead. Who would have had the opportunity. You do Calista’s memory no good by refusing to see the truth.”

  Farley tapped his steepled fingers as the burning wood crackled and hissed. Alex could see the thoughts tumbling through his mind; Farley was always looking for an advantage.

  “Damn, Alex, you’re right. You had no reason to murder her.”

  “Exactly. But someone else does. Someone who has a quarrel with me. I’d thought it was you.”

  “I’d never kill Calista to ruin you, Shelton. You, too, are also not as important to me as she is. Was.”

  “I know. That’s when I realized it wasn’t you. I’d held out the hope because you were an easy target, but even you would never go to such lengths merely to see me hang. Nor would you have much to gain other than the satisfaction of having, at last, bested me.”

  “Then who would gain by your death?”

  “I don’t know, yet. But tell me how and why you got Lawrence to come here.”

  Farley shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. He came, asking to work a parcel of land. I was glad to find someone unhappy at your home so I agreed without pressing for answers.”

  “I think it’s time to do that, don’t you?”

  Farley nodded and directed his steward to find the man. “It’s time to get to the bottom of this. So that I can then bury you in the lists legitimately.”

  Same old Simon, refusing to surrender. Alex let the insult pass. He was more interested in what Lawrence would tell them.

  ***

  Tristan set down the pynade Cook had made and brushed his hands against his tunic. Sticky fingers from the sweets bothered him as much as sitting around did. But Alex
had asked him to oversee the place in his absence, so here he sat.

  It wasn’t all that much of a hardship, if he were truthful. Especially since Carol, Cook’s daughter, was in the room could also account for his restlessness. He needed to get back to his own holdings before the servant girl made him mad.

  Yet still he stared at her, willing her to turn to him. Willing her to lay with him. He’d been trying that approach of late, for pretty words and soft looks hadn’t done the trick. But neither did that.

  He didn’t know why he cared. It wasn’t as if there weren’t other willing women. Hell, he often left his own home because there were too many petty squabbles between his current and previous favorites.

  He shook his head. He should stay away from women. They were more trouble than they were worth. But Carol… He caught a glimpse of her profile, delicate yet with a stubborn set to her chin. She had to know he stared; he couldn’t do much else when he was near her.

  She glanced at him and her cheeks flushed. Ah, yes, she knew.

  But then she left.

  Tris sighed and drained the rest of his wine. Women. He didn’t know why he cared. Look at what Alex was going through, all because of a woman.

  “Lord Hambledon.” Benton walked into the hall. “There is a merchant asking for Lord Shelton.”

  Tris set down the mug. Time for business. He tossed a bag of coins to him. “Here Benton. Give him this and bring in the package he bears.”

  “ ‘Tis no’ good enough, m’ lord.” A short little man wearing spectacles and odd tunic and hose strode into the hall. The hounds scurried to his side, their large bodies jostling the man and the bulky package he held. “Lord Shelton needs t’ be gettin’ this right away. He paid for it t’ be done as quick as possible.”

  Tristan stood, towering over the man who reached only to his chest. “I understand, however, the earl isn’t here. You’re to leave it and I’ll give it to him upon his return.”

  “But he needs it now.” The fierce glow in the little man’s eyes died out and his shoulders drooped as he looked at the object on his wrist. “My instructions were to deliver it to him and no other.”

  If Alex had wanted the window so badly, he wouldn’t have left Tris here to receive it. “Instructions from whom?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Uh, well… why, Lord Shelton himself. Yes. Himself. He wanted it t’ arrive t’ day, an’ here ‘tis.” The little man started pacing, the dogs following his every step. “I’ve done what I was supposed to do. Now you have to do your part. Find Lord Shelton so he can give this to Kate before it’s too late. Is that so hard to understand?” The man stomped his foot. “I can’t do everything myself. I don’t have the time to sit around waiting. There are others who need my help.” He thrust the linen-wrapped package at Tris. “There has to be free will, you understand? I can’t hand it out to each person; they have to grasp it for themselves. Make it work for them. So I’m going to trust you to do the right thing by delivering this to Lord Shelton immediately and trust that he’ll do the right thing with it.”

  With that, the man spun around and strode from the hall, the hounds trailing after him as if he were their mother.

  Tris looked at the package, then at the hounds who whined at the threshold when the man bade them stay, then at the man himself. The one whose speech had changed halfway through his sermon.

  He motioned for Beatrice. “Have Joan wake the lady Katherine.”

  If what he was holding was what he thought it was, Kate would want to see this.

  Moments later, however, Joan’s scream rent the air.

  Tris jumped to his feet and, joined by Beatrice, Benton, and a pack of servants, ran into Kate’s room.

  Joan was pointing at the bed.

  “God’s blood!” Tristan set the package against the wall and tore through the pile beneath the bedclothes though he knew he’d find nothing. As with that sheep, he wouldn’t find what he sought.

  It was a ploy to gain time to remove Kate from the room. First William, now her. Alex was going to be devastated.

  He picked up the cup by the bed. It held a small drop of cooled mulled wine. Tris sniffed it, but the heavy scent of cloves masked whatever it’d held. “Did you bring this to your lady?” he asked Joan.

  “As usual, my lord.” The maid pointed to the chest against the wall. “I placed the urns there.”

  Tristan sniffed both urns, but, could detect nothing. That didn’t mean, however, there wasn’t something there.

  “Beatrice, I want extra guards on William. Benton, you stay with me. You—”he pointed to another man—”send a man to Alex and one to Marston. We’ll require Lord Caversham’s aid. And someone go find that merchant who delivered the package. The rest of you, start checking every corridor and chamber.”

  Once the room cleared, he started looking for an entrance to a sallyport. There had to be one somewhere. No one could have slipped down the stairs and out the door with an awkward burden when Alex had tripled the guards.

  He moved the heavy chest, but the wall behind it looked normal, no line marking a secret passageway. Where the hell could it be? How had the bastard gotten her out of here?

  He was about to search the room when he saw Alex and Herald cresting the hill. He called down to a squire in the yard to ready his horse and bolted from the room, charging the guard to let no one enter on pain of death.

  Then he ran to his horse and rode through the portcullis almost before the gatekeeper could open it. There was no time to lose.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alex rode Herald hard, wishing Lawrence’s head was beneath the animal’s hooves. The man had had no answers save that he’d no longer wanted to live on Shelton land. Any other time, Alex wouldn’t complain, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Lawrence was somehow tied up in this.

  Then Tris came hurtling toward him on horseback and Lawrence’s answers were put aside. Tris wouldn’t leave the keep without a very good reason.

  Or a very bad one.

  “Kate’s missing, Alex!” Tris yelled above the din of the hooves. “There must be a sallyport in her chambers!”

  “No!” Alex felt the bread from this morn rise in his throat. Not Kate! “And William?”

  “We increased his guards. He’s safe.”

  But for how long?

  Alex slapped the reins and kicked Herald on. The spirited animal didn’t fail him. Ears flat out, tail streaming, muscles working hard, Herald devoured the distance to the keep.

  Once through the gate, Alex was swinging from the saddle and halfway up the tower stairs before Herald had stopped prancing and tossing his head.

  Tristan reached the hall as Alex got the full story from Stephen. “Organize the search like we did for William. And, Tris, come with me.”

  Alex took the stairs to her room two at a time, trying to forget how he’d done the same thing just last night under far different circumstances.

  The room was just as he’d left it—except she wasn’t there. He gripped the door, trying to keep terror at bay. He had to be strong to find her.

  And then he saw it.

  The arched shaped linen wrapped package.

  Tris reached the room just as Alex picked it up.

  “The merchant delivered it this morn.”

  Of course he had—just when Kate wasn’t here to receive it.

  Alex cursed and set it down. He’d find her. And then he’d give it to her and she would be safe. More than he wanted to be with her, Alex needed to keep her safe. If that was in her time, then so be it.

  “How did he get her out of here?”

  Tris picked up the cup. “Probably a sleeping draught. And a sallyport.”

  The plastered walls showed no sign of a one. The stone wall—the outer wall—was the most logical place, so Alex ran his hands over the stones, gouging the mortar, his nails ripping, searching for the one that’d unlock a secret passage. “Frederick never told me of one in this chamber.”

  “It’s t
he only explanation that makes sense because the guards never saw anyone leave. You brother might not have known.”

  True, though Frederick had known the rest of the keep as if he’d built it.

  Or perhaps he had known about it. Who would he have told? And why?

  And why not tell him? There’d been no love lost between the brothers, but there’d been no hatred either, though Frederick’s treatment of the women was a sore point between them. Dowering them had been Alex’s first act when Frederick had left for battle.

  Could his brother have charged someone with a deathbed promise to avenge him for that?

  ‘Twas possible, but Frederick wouldn’t have had much of a deathbed since he’d died in battle. As for a loyal man to carry it out, not even those who’d returned his mangled remains had stayed for the burial. Frederick had never been one to instill loyalty, using fear and intimidation instead. In that, the brothers were very different.

  Yet Alex had made an enemy. A cunning, vile enemy, and he was no closer to finding who than when the first provisions had gone missing.

  And now Kate was as well. Alex pounded the wall.

  It moved.

  “Tris, here!” He found the release and the door swung inward revealing a newly cut stone corridor. “This isn’t original to Shelton.” He took a candelabrum from a table and entered the tunnel, Tristan behind him.

  Two tunnels branched off from Kate’s room. One went toward his chambers; the other fell in a steep decline. He swept the candles above the floor, and, there, as before, a set of footprints in the dust.

  He followed them down the decline to where it veered off at an odd angle. He looked around and saw why: whoever had made this sallyport had miscalculated the angle to align it with one of the original tunnels.

  He turned to Tristan. “I doubt this bastard would be so stupid as to leave her in here as he did with William, but I won’t take the chance. Go back and prepare the horses, then meet me by the chapel. That’s where this sallyport will end. And bring the window.”