“We could have a child,” James suggested, apparently seeing Madeline’s lack of enthusiasm. “After all, I am certain that you are still a maiden, are you not, my beloved?” His manner became more anxious. “There will be no doubt as to the paternity of any child you bear, will there? Will there?”
“I am no longer a maiden,” Madeline said calmly, watching James all the while.
He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “But surely you cannot have conceived a child already? It has been only a few days.” He seemed reassured by his own reasoning. “Why, you must have only met abed the once! All know that a maiden cannot conceive when first she is sampled.”
“Of course she can,” Rosamunde said with a laugh. Cradoc and Padraig covered their smiles with their hands and looked across the hills with feigned fascination.
James colored and his lips set. His gaze was hostile now. “How many times have you coupled with the wretch?”
Vivienne and Elizabeth listened avidly, their eyes wide as if they knew they should not heed Madeline’s words but could not bring themselves to do as they should. Madeline felt her own color rise, for this was not a matter that should have been discussed before so many souls.
“My husband and I met numerous times abed, so many times that I lost the count,” Madeline said, feeling a stubborn urge to witness how James faced the truth. She had done nothing wrong in treating her legal husband with honor! “Rhys is most anxious for sons. We were wed. How could I deny him his nuptial due?”
James blanched and released her hand. He stepped away, his hand upon his brow, and was clearly distressed by these tidings.
“Had you been so concerned with my maidenhood, you might have troubled to send word to me that you yet lived!” Madeline turned her back upon James. She found herself trembling, so great was her anger. Vivienne slipped a hand into hers, then gave her fingers an encouraging squeeze.
Rosamunde stood with Cradoc, her brow furrowed. “I will aid Rhys, if it can be done, before my departure,” she said. “I owe him a boon, for he ensured that my name was never linked with the failed coup in 1415. I would never have been permitted to drop anchor in many ports without that surety.”
“Aye, that is true enough,” Padraig said with a nod. “Our necks are not stretched thanks to his silence. I, too, will help.”
“I will aid Rhys, as well,” Elizabeth said with uncommon resolve for her age. “He is the get of fairies,” she said when the others regarded her in surprise. “There may not be much I can do, but I will do whatsoever I can.”
“Do not forget me!” Vivienne said. “I will not stand aside while a man who can tell such stories is cheated and killed.”
Alexander smiled at Cradoc and then at Madeline. “My blade is in Rhys’ service.” He tapped a jingling sack of coins upon his belt. “Let us see him hale first, then I will return his coin and win your annulment, Madeline.”
Madeline regarded the sack of coins with horror. Now that the prospect of annulment was so imminent, it did no seem so desirable, after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Cradoc and Rosamunde conferred, then crept to the crest of the hill to watch the proceedings far below. When they returned long moments later, Rosamunde looked resolved and Cradoc seemed skeptical.
“The sole unguarded path into the keep will be through the drain,” Rosamunde said, speaking in a tone that allowed no argument. She flicked a glance between those pledged to aid Rhys. “Someone must enter the fortress through the sewer that leads to the sea, then open the gates for the remainder of us.”
“I will do it,” Alexander said. Vivienne and Elizabeth protested, but he shook his head. “It is too dangerous for either of you and I am more slender than Padraig. Cradoc must remain with the rest of you, for he alone knows who is friend and who is foe.”
“He speaks good sense,” Cradoc said to Rosamunde.
“It happens on occasion,” she agreed with a wink for her nephew. The company turned to climb to the crest of the hill, but James seized Madeline’s elbow and held her back.
“I see no reason why we should risk our own hides,” He said sourly. “Let us flee now, Madeline, let us make haste to my father’s abode. Leave your siblings to resolve this matter, if they insist upon it. The horses are unguarded, we could be gone before they could halt us.”
The very idea of abandoning her family after they had come so far to aid her, no less Rhys, was utterly abhorrent to Madeline. “I thought you only desired a maiden for your bride,” she reminded James, pulling away from his grasp.
James nodded, then shrugged. “True, but a man must make some sacrifices to ensure his father’s favor. I will still wed you, though you are soiled.”
He could not have chosen a worse word.
“I am not soiled! I have been saved from the folly of wedding you!” Madeline turned her back upon the astonished James and ran after her family. She caught Rosamunde’s sleeve in her hand. “Rhys loves nothing more than Caerwyn. I would see it safely in his keeping. I am smaller yet than Alexander. Let me take this task.”
“But, Madeline, it is too dangerous!” Alexander protested.
“I can hold my breath longer than you, you know it well.”
Alexander colored at Cradoc’s confused glance. “I used to sneak into the bathing chamber and dunk my sisters while they sat in the tub. Madeline learned to hold her breath and remain so still that I oft feared I had killed her.”
“Then Papa near killed him for so tormenting us,” Vivienne said.
Cradoc smothered another smile and Padraig chuckled openly.
“It is not amusing, if the prank granted her a useful skill,” Rosamunde said. “I say that we let Madeline do this deed.” The others nodded, but before they could speak, James interjected.
“Madeline! You cannot do this thing!” He snatched at her arm, as if he would forcibly restrain her.
Madeline removed her arm from his grasp. “Rhys saved me from Kerr’s assault. I owe him no less than to reciprocate in kind.” She granted her former suitor a cool glance. “You desire me only to ensure your own leisure, but what will happen when your father dies? What will you do if he ceases to admire your music? Do not say he will never do so—how else did you find yourself in France? It has happened before and it will happen again.”
Madeline turned her back upon James and met her aunt’s approving gaze. She removed the velvet sack from around her neck and kissed it before passing it to Rosamunde. “I would ask you to take this in safekeeping for me.”
“It is warm,” Rosamunde said as she fingered the velvet.
“It probably carries my own heat,” Madeline suggested but Rosamunde shook her head.
Smiling, Rosamunde loosed the cord and let the stone fall into her palm. The entire company gasped in awe at the magnificent stone. Madeline could not believe how it had been transformed. It could have been a drop of sunlight. Indeed, the gem was so radiant that no one could look directly upon it.
Rosamunde laughed. “It was like this upon your mother’s wedding day,” she said, her voice husky.
She dug in her purse and removed something gold. It was a setting for the stone, wrought of golden wires that caught the stone in a fine cage. Rays extended out from the stone, like beams of light spreading from the glowing stone. The whole pendant hung from a fine golden chain, which Rosamunde put around Madeline’s neck. The stone nestled in the hollow of her throat, its heat warming her through.
“You need have no fear of losing this now,” Rosamunde said, “for its radiance will light your path and its chain is short enough that it cannot slip away.”
“But the chain could break,” Madeline whispered, fingering the stone as she feared losing such a prize in the sewer of Caerwyn.
“These bonds are stronger than you can guess.” Rosamunde kissed Madeline’s brow. “You have chosen aright, child. The Tear declares as much more clearly than can be spoken. It is time to aid Rhys.”
Madeline was terrified.
/> She and Alexander crept down the steep hillside, that they could slip into the sea unobserved. With every step she was certain that they would be spied, that some archer would dispatch an arrow with deadly accuracy and their quest would be lost.
But they reached the shore with no more incident than scratches on their hands and knees. They left most of their clothing hidden on the shore, each wearing only a chemise. Alexander insisted that they each keep their belt and a small knife.
“You must move quickly,” he counseled, concern furrowing his brow. “We do not know where the drain will end, though likely it will be in the lower realms of the keep.”
“In the dungeon?” Madeline guessed.
Alexander grimaced. “We shall hope that it is not within a cell.”
Madeline shook her head, though she was far from certain. “It cannot be, for then prisoners could easily escape.”
“Unless there is a grill fixed atop it.” Alexander’s frown deepened. “There should be air within the drain, for is must run level with the ground to come from the keep to the sea. Remember to turn your face upward, if any water comes rushing down the drain.”
“Will it?”
“Who can say?” Alexander caught Madeline’s shoulders in his hands. “I wish I could do this. I wish that you were not to be in such peril.”
“But the way may be narrow, and I may have to hold my breath long...”
“I know, I know.” Alexander forced a smile. “I wish also that you did not make such good sense, Madeline.” He hugged her tightly and his words were hoarse. “Be safe. Be swift. Be blessed in this task.”
Alexander took Madeline’s hand before she could answer him, this brother who could easily make her chest tighten with the vigor of her love for him. He led her into the sea, the waves pulling and pushing at them as they waded ever deeper.
They kept only their heads above the surface, though the waves oft deluged them. They clung to the rocks of the coast like barnacles upon the hull of a ship. Madeline hoped that their dark wet heads, if any noted them, would look sufficiently like those of otters or seals that no alarm would be cried.
They had only to follow their noses to find the opening of the drain. Turds bobbed on the ocean surface, closer together as they drew near to the gaping dark hole. It was bored into the cliffs and unobstructed by any grill.
“It must have been wrought by the Romans,” Alexander said with awe. “Papa always said they were more plentiful in Wales, for they mined metals here.” He slid his hand along the stone, admiring how it had been chipped away. “Caerwyn must be old.”
Madeline nodded. “Rhys said as much.”
At the mention of her spouse’s name, the siblings looked at each other. “Are you certain?” Alexander asked. “The hole here is large enough for me.”
“It will not remain so,” Madeline insisted. She kissed his cheek, knowing that her effort might be doomed to failure. “Father taught you more than you realize,” she said softly. “Kinfairlie, and our siblings, are safe in your hands, Alexander. Be well.”
Madeline plunged into the dark tunnel, before her brother could say something that might make her weep. Her breath came quickly already, though she knew that she would have to control it to find success. Her heart thundered in her chest, so loudly that she feared the sentries would hear its pulse carried through the dirty water in which she moved.
The tunnel closed more tightly around her with every step, the smell of slops assaulted her, the water moved less vigorously and thickened to a slurry. It was up to her knees and it was cold, though she supposed it would have been more revolting had it been warm. She could not hear the sea any longer, she could not spy a glimmer of light. There was only the smell of the water and the gentle incline of carved stone beneath her feet.
And the impetus that was Rhys tugging her onward. The stone around her neck cast a faint glow, a ray of light that kept her from madness. At least she did not proceed blindly.
Madeline’s fears remained at bay until the tunnel narrowed abruptly to the width of her shoulders. She stood hunched in the larger corridor and considered the hole from which muck spilled. There was no other way onward. She reasoned that this must be beneath the keep itself, for she felt she had walked forever. Perhaps the type of stone had changed here. Perhaps the hole narrowed even more farther ahead.
She refused to consider that she might become stuck. She had to help Rhys. Panic would serve them both poorly. Madeline climbed into the hole, stretched out supine. She half-dragged herself, half-writhed, the stones digging into her back, and somehow she made progress. She was not certain how far she moved or how fast, the darkness assailing her as it had not before.
Madeline began to be afraid.
Water rushed suddenly over her, water smelling of urine and dirty pots. Madeline grimaced and clung to the stones, holding her place as it washed over her with a vengeance. Her heart raced, she thought of her parents trapped beneath the darkness of the sea. Had their last moments been like this? She feared to drown, she knew that she would never be found that none would aid her...
And then she recalled Rhys, telling her tales aboard the ship. She thought of his conviction that they were safe, and she was reassured. She heard again the rhythm of his voice and the memory made her smile.
Indeed, she could have wed worse. She could have wed James.
If she and Rhys saw their way through this challenge, if still he desired her as his wife, Madeline knew that she would remain gladly by his side. Perhaps one day, he would come to love her. Perhaps she should appreciate the man’s deeds and his valor more than any sweet words he could offer.
Perhaps she should see the merit of what she had been granted and savor it.
She closed her fingers around the stone that her mother had worn and found strength in its glorious heat. Madeline realized that she had misunderstood its earlier portent.
The stone had been dark at first, because she had already decided to flee Rhys. The Tear must have predicted Kerr’s assault.
The Tear had lit with a glimmer after Rhys had saved her from Kerr. She and Rhys had been wed then, the first step in their sealing their fates together.
The star had brightened within the gem when Rhys had confessed his errors to her. Could it be that Rhys had realized then that he held her in some affection?
Was the Tear’s current radiance a sign of the growth of Rhys’ regard for her? Or did it indicate her own love for him?
Perhaps the stone shone most brightly when a pair loved each other with uncommon vigor, because that love would light their united path ahead.
Madeline had to reach Rhys to know for certain.
Encouraged, she found a grip on the stones overhead and pulled herself onward. Madeline recounted the tale of the man with the fairy harp to herself, though she knew she had forgotten some of it, though she knew that she could never tell it as well as Rhys. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see all that floated around her, and pulled herself onward despite the ache in her arms.
Suddenly, Madeline bumped her head. She bit back a curse, tipped back her head to see the offending stone, then gasped aloud.
The tunnel turned straight up, stretching above her head to a circle of flickering light. That aperture did not appear to be far away, perhaps a distance akin to the height of two men. There were handholds carved in the stone on one side, as if boys might have to climb down the drain to clear it on occasion.
And there was no iron grill across the opening.
Heart aflame with hope, Madeline pulled herself around the bend in the drain. Her hands shook, but she forced herself to think clearly. There would be a challenge ahead, of that she had no doubt. She took a deep breath, then climbed with newfound purpose.
She reached the top of the drain and peered over the lip.
The drain opened into a stone chamber. The chamber was dark, the only light coming from a lantern upon an unsteady table. Madeline guessed that the room was beneath the earth, or ben
eath the tower of Caerwyn. The stones in the walls looked large enough to be foundation stones.
Indeed, a wooden ladder ascended to a patch of light at the far end of the chamber. There was a solid wood door to her left, one with such a fearsome lock upon it that she thought she knew what it was.
She could see only one person. A plump bald man sat upon a bench beside the flickering lantern, his mouth open as he snored softly.
Madeline eased silently out of the drain, slops dripping from her sodden chemise. She grasped her knife as soon as she stood free of the drain, her gaze fixed upon the sleeping man. The air was cold here and she shivered, even as she moved closer to the man. A ring of keys were cast upon the table, alongside a sword that Madeline recognized as Rhys’ own.
The man was of considerable size, Madeline saw, and she realized that she would have only one chance against him. If he but raised one of those heavy hands against her, he could fairly kill her.
Surprise, and perhaps her wits, would be her only asset. Madeline took another step closer, her knife shaking in her grip. The water dribbling from her chemise seemed to make a fearful amount of noise as it fell upon the stone floor. A thousand doubts plagued her.
What if Rhys was not locked behind that portal?
What if Rhys was asleep there?
What if Rhys was dead?
What if there was no one to aid her? What would this man do to her once he subdued her? Madeline could guess that she would not enjoy whatever happened after she failed. She took the last step and closed her hand over the keys.
They were heavy, wrought of brass, and there were two of them upon the ring. She had to choose the right one, as well! She pulled the ring off the table and it jingled slightly. Madeline caught her breath and froze in place.
The man frowned, then continued to snore. Madeline exhaled in relief, shivered suddenly in the chill, and sneezed.
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