Lord of Danger

by Anne Stuart

  Changing her mind, she allowed herself the luxury of glancing his way, just to solidify her rage, when the man who'd brought her to the tent gave her a rough shove with his foot, halfway to a kick.

  Simon surged to his feet, and the man fell back with a muttered oath. "Touch her again," Simon said in a soft, silken voice, "and I'll feed your entrails to the crows."

  Richard bellowed with laughter as the knight stumbled from the tent, away from Simon's golden eyes. "You're possessive of the wench, Grendel," he said, belching. "I wonder why?"

  Simon sat again, and the furious glow in his eyes faded to watchfulness. "I have a dislike of seeing helpless creatures abused," he said mildly.

  "Since when?" Richard didn't bother waiting for an answer, leaning forward and fixing his piggy little eyes on his half sister. "Are you ready to confess, Alys?"

  "Confess to what?"

  "The murder of my lady wife, of course. Unless you have other crimes to confess as well."

  "I had no reason to harm Lady Hedwiga," she said helplessly.

  "So you say. I care not for your motive. I have three servants who saw you with her. That will more than suffice for His Majesty." There was a faint note of ridicule in his voice as he mentioned the king.

  "I didn't..."

  "You know what they do to women convicted of murder, don't you? They bury them alive. It takes a while, and they do tend to scream, at least until the dirt fills their mouths and weighs down their bodies."

  She stared at her brother in horror. "No," she whispered.

  "The executioner usually covers the head last. So the criminal has time to think on her crime and the justice being meted out." He took another gulp of wine.

  "I didn't kill Lady Hedwiga."

  "I say you did. And no one will dispute me, isn't that the truth of it, Grendel?"

  "Leave her be." Simon's voice was sharp and cool, and Richard turned to stare at him in mock dismay.

  " 'Leave her be?' " he echoed. "I swear you have a fondness for the girl."

  "You aren't going to have her killed, and tormenting her is needlessly cruel."

  Richard's thick lips curled in a smile. "Cruelty isn't needless," he said. "I enjoy it."

  Alys rose with deceptive grace, thankful that her long skirts hid the trembling in her cramped legs. "If you have no further questions of me, brother," she used the term with deliberation, "then I would prefer to return to my cage."

  "Just one, my pet. I must confess you're hostage for Simon's good behavior. He insists that you're an annoyance that he has no use for, but I find I cannot quite believe him."

  Alys darted a shocked glance at him, but as usual Simon's expression gave away nothing at all.

  "What I wish to know, dear Alys, is did he deflower you?"

  She didn't blush. She could keep her own face equally emotionless. "Why would you wish to know?"

  "Well, there's no telling how this little drama will end. You may die at the hands of an executioner, or Simon might very well end up with his head parting company with his body. Anything is possible. You're a commodity, Alys, a useful one, but no man wants another man's brat to inherit his lands. I want to make sure there's no bun in the oven if I choose to wed you elsewhere."

  "I'm already married in the eyes of God."

  "If he was incapable of fathering children then the marriage can be annulled." He picked his teeth with the point of his dagger. "I find that I'm not so eager to let Claire go to some wealthy baron in return for loyalty. I have… plans for her. So you will be the chosen one. Answer the question, Alys. Did Grendel take your maidenhead?"

  "I know no Grendel."

  "Don't be tiresome, wench. Did Simon of Navarre tup you? Did he bed you as other men would bed you?"

  "I've lived my life in a convent, brother. I know nothing of other men."

  "You're a learned women!" he shouted. "And you're no fool! Did he bed you as any other man would bed you?"

  She met Simon's golden eyes for a breathless moment. "No," she said. Simon smiled faintly.

  Richard let out a shout of triumph. "I thought not! You may have some value after all, for such a plain little creature. Behave yourself, and I just might forget about this poison nonsense."

  "Poison nonsense?" she echoed.

  "Servants can be mistaken. They're barely human as it is. Go back to your cage, Alys, and think on your sins. Pray for forgiveness, and thank God I married you to a creature like Grendel."

  Simon reached for his own goblet of wine, seemingly inured to his lord's insults. His eyes met hers over the rim of the goblet, but there was no reading his expression.

  "I do, my lord," she said truthfully. "I do."

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was sheer luck that brought Claire and Thomas to the tiny church at the edge of the forest. Sheer luck that Brother Jerome had stopped to visit an old friend, and was standing in the portal of the stone church, watching their approach with disbelief and joy.

  Claire immediately ceased tormenting Thomas with her small, strong hands, ducking her head behind his broad back as she felt an unaccustomed flush mount her face. Thomas was right—she wasn't particularly well-suited to illicit delights. However, she suspected she was most gloriously suited to licit ones, and she poked her head around Thomas's strong frame to grin at the priest.

  "Will you marry us, Brother Jerome?" she called out.

  Brother Jerome's delight faded into worry. "Is there need for haste?" he asked, catching the reins of Paladin and looking up at them.

  Thomas slid down from the horse, then turned and caught Claire around her slender waist, his hands strong and warm as he lifted her down. "Need you ask?" he said evenly.

  "With you, my son, no," Brother Jerome said. "With Lady Claire as temptation, however…"

  "Thomas is very good at resisting temptation." Claire didn't bother to disguise the disgruntled tone in her voice.

  "I am happy to hear that," Brother Jerome murmured. "Does your brother approve this wedding? You must know that it could be declared invalid if the lady's closest kin has not given permission."

  "Lord Richard has no say in the matter," Thomas said flatly. "Either he is no kin to Lady Claire, and therefore has no say in her disposal, or he is the most unnatural of brothers, and cannot be trusted to see to her welfare."

  Brother Jerome said nothing, staring at the two of them searchingly. Eventually he nodded. "I would be happy to do God's will and unite the two of you in marriage. But have you thought, my son? Lord Richard is a dangerous enemy."

  "I will keep her safe."

  "I am satisfied that you will. I could only wish someone would be able to help poor Lady Alys."

  Claire was jolted out of her happy anticipation with the rudeness of a blow. "What do you mean?" she demanded in a hoarse voice.

  Brother Jerome's face was stern. "You do not know? Haven't you heard? She's been accused of murder. Lord Richard is taking her north to see the King, to put her to judgment. If she's found guilty she'll be buried alive."

  "Oh, God," Claire cried out. "She killed him?"

  Brother Jerome looked confused. "She's accused of poisoning Lady Hedwiga."

  Relief flooded her. "Lady Hedwiga is dead? But that's ridiculous! Why would Alys do such a thing? And where would she come across poison?"

  "Her brother has accused her of trafficking with the devil," Brother Jerome intoned.

  "Well, of course," Claire snapped. "He had her marry him. What's her lord husband had to say to all this?"

  "As far as I know, not a thing. I was sent from the Keep when they left for York, and all I've been able to do is pray for a just outcome."

  "A just outcome? My sister is no murderer, and you know that as well as I!"

  Thomas put a restraining hand on her arm. "Brother Jerome has not accused her, love. He's only repeating what he knows. Where have they gone?"

  "They're heading north along the North Road. King Henry is in residence at Middleham Castle."r />
  "How fast are they traveling? Surely they aren't making Alys ride?" Claire demanded.

  "I saw her placed in a traveling carriage that… er… resembled a cage."

  "And her monstrous husband did nothing to stop this?"

  "Nothing, my lady."

  She turned to Thomas. "We're going after them," she said.

  "No."

  "You can't expect me to ignore my sister's plight! I have to do something, I have to save her! All her life she's taken care of me, sacrificed for me, and I've selfishly accepted everything she's done as if it were my due. Now that she needs me I can't turn my back on her."

  "I'm not expecting you to. I'm expecting you to wait here with Brother Jerome while I go after her."

  "I won't do it! What makes you think you'd have any better luck than I would? He might have you killed on sight for deserting his household…"

  "He doesn't know that I have. As for as he's aware, I've gone to see to my wife's burial. If I show up he'll merely think I'm resuming my duties. If I show up with you he'll probably geld me."

  "You think he will listen to you?"

  "No."

  "He'd listen to me," Claire said in a bitter voice. "I have something he might be willing to trade for my sister's life."

  "And what is that, my lady?" Brother Jerome asked.

  "Me."

  Brother Jerome crossed himself, uttering a hasty prayer. "You can't consider such an abomination," he said.

  "I can consider anything to save my sister," she said fiercely. Thomas stood beside her, remote, powerful. "Are we going after them?" she demanded. "Or do I leave you behind?"

  "You should beat her," Brother Jerome said. "Often, and severely."

  "Once we're married," he agreed carelessly. "Have you a horse? Lady Claire lost hers."

  "That would leave me without a mount!" the good friar protested.

  "We'll bring it back to you," Thomas promised. "And you may marry us upon our return."

  "And if you don't come back, my son?"

  "Then pray for our souls, Brother Jerome."

  If Richard the Fair, had had any sense, they would have avoided the market town of Watlington and the boisterous festival that spilled over into the countryside.

  A man of robust appetites, he loved a fair as well as most, but he had more important things to attend to. There'd be time enough for feasting and whoring when they'd finished at Middleham Castle. Time enough once the king was dead.

  Grendel would have to die as well—it was an unfortunate necessity. Richard was wise enough to know that he would never be secure as long as someone held the secret to his power. As long as he kept his plain, pious sister in her cage, Simon of Navarre would do exactly as he wanted. But that wouldn't work for long.

  Richard found it vastly amusing that his partner in wickedness would have done anything as absurd as fall prey to a quiet little sparrow of a creature. In the years that Simon had been Richard's chief advisor he'd shown not a trace of weakness or partiality, not for women or other men or young boys. He had seemed powerful and inviolate.

  But his sweet little sister Alys had brought a change to all that, and it had been sheer luck that had brought them together. Richard had never thought Simon would choose the plainer of the sisters, he had a love of beauty and finery, and to choose the lesser one seemed unlike him.

  But he'd chosen Alys, and he'd become absurdly vulnerable. Not through anything as obvious as sex, since it was clear that Simon of Navarre had lost the ability to function as other men did. Perhaps Alys really was a witch after all, one who'd used her powers on the all-powerful sorcerer.

  The reasons behind it didn't matter, only the results. Simon of Navarre would obey without question, and would continue to do so as long as Richard kept Alys hostage. Once he killed her, Simon would have no motive for loyalty other than his own self-interest.

  In the past Richard would have assumed that Simon's self-interest would rule over any stray sentiment. Now he wasn't so sure. He would keep the two of them alive as long as he needed them. Until the king was dead and things were well in hand to ensure Richard's claim to the throne.

  And then he would show great good sense and have Simon killed before he dispensed with his annoyance of a sister. It was never wise to underestimate the wrath of a wizard.

  There was bear baiting and cock fighting in the market town. Roasted meats and music and magicians to entertain the crowds. He should have pressed on, gone the long way around the bustling town, but he was tired, bored, and hungry. The wise thing would have been to move onward. But Richard the Fair didn't waste his energy being wise.

  They camped on the bluff outside the town, and the smell of food and livestock rose to mingle with the wood-smoke. They were two days away from Middleham, two days away from the start of his glorious future. He could afford a day of pleasure before he got on with his life's work.

  He rubbed his balls absently. He wouldn't go back to Summersedge Keep once the deed was done. He owned lands and castles all over England, though the Keep had always been a favorite. He would move South, toward Kent, and send for Lady Claire. She would still be locked in her solar, as he'd commanded, and he had complete faith that his servants wouldn't dare fail him. They knew the punishment for mistakes.

  He'd conveniently decided that Claire was no sister to him, and her beauty made the possibility of damnation worth the risk. But he found himself wondering about little Alys. What about her had managed to ensnare his all-powerful wizard? He couldn't reasonably deny his kinship with her as well, but he found himself wondering what lay beneath her ugly clothes. Perhaps he'd find out before he had her smothered.

  The night was cold, drear, with only a quarter moon to light the sky. Simon of Navarre lay sleeping in the corner of the tent, wisely making no attempt to elude his liege lord's presence. He was a sensible man; he'd accepted the way things were and had made the best of it, sleeping the sleep of those without conscience, his imprisoned wife forgotten.

  Richard the Fair grinned as he stretched out on his own bed. Maybe there was hope for Grendel after all.

  Simon waited until Richard started snoring before he rose to look down at his liege lord.

  He could cut Richard's throat and watch him bleed to death, speechless, in a matter of moments. But that wouldn't solve the problem of Alys's captivity. There were four men guarding the wagon, and they'd been told to be particularly suspicious of him. He knew he would have one chance, and one chance alone, to rescue her, and he had to make certain there were no mistakes. A diversion was simple enough to arrange, but it would have to be timed carefully so that he could be there to release her, and there had to be some avenue of escape. There was no question but that she would have to mount the back of a horse or accept death, and he hoped she would make the wise decision. If she couldn't, they would both die, and he wasn't particularly ready for death.

  He rose, knowing from experience that Richard's wine-fueled sleep would be heavy enough to keep him from realizing his wizard was gone. He counted on his men at arms to watch him, and unfortunately they were very good at their job. So far it had proved impossible to get anywhere near Alys without an army of witnesses, and he had no intention of reassuring her and having word get back to Richard.

  Not that he had any illusions. Richard no longer trusted him. Despite Alys's He and Simon's own lazy protests, Richard knew that his wizard would betray him for the utterly ridiculous sake of a woman's life. But as long as the suspicions were unspoken, he had a small measure of safety. So he nodded and said nothing as Richard prattled on about the future, and dreamed of his head on a pike.

  He needed an ally, and he had none. The frightened-looking serving woman who attended Alys would likely run screaming into the forest before she helped him, and it seemed as if Richard had chosen the men who accompanied them with special care. Every one of them had a particular grudge against Simon of Navarre.

  Admittedly, it would have been hard to find inhabitants of the Keep who
didn't hate Simon. He had done his best to intimidate everyone who'd come his way, and very few had proven resistant. Only Brother Jerome, and God knows where he was now. And Thomas du Rhaymer, off in search of Alys's silly little sister.

  It was a cold night, but he didn't bother with his fur-lined mantle. He liked the cold, the icy nip of frost that danced across his skin. It went a small way toward cooling his blood. And he needed to be cool, to be calm and unemotional, in order to accomplish what needed to be done.

  The wagon was off to one side, the thick curtains pulled tightly around it. He wondered if she was warm enough in there, if she slept soundly. If she dreamed, if she cried. If he somehow managed to come to her, to kill the guards that surrounded her prison and cut her free, would she take the knife from his hand and plunge it into his heart?

  And he wondered if he would care.

  The guards had moved away from the cart, closer to the warmth of the fire, but Simon did not think for a moment that they would simply watch as he approached the makeshift prison. He ignored them, ignored the wagon and the pale-faced woman who sat nearby, and walked into the forest.

  "Guess even a wizard needs to relieve himself every now and then," one man said in a loud voice. Louder than he usually would have dared speak within Simon's hearing. One more sign that Richard's favor had been withdrawn.

  "At least his John Thomas is good for something," another one said with a crude laugh. "Bet the little lady would like to know what a real man's like."

  Simon paused at the edge of the woods, out of sight, his right hand clenched tight on his dagger. He was unmoved by the insults, but the suggestion of a threat to his wife was a more serious matter. It was more than possible one of those idiots would decide to climb into Alys's prison and find out whether or not she was still a maiden. It was more than possible that Richard would encourage them.