Unable to contain her happiness, Anna spun around the open battlement, arms outstretched in sheer joy. Her prayers had been answered. She was smiling, and growing dizzy. She crashed into Lark’s chest in one last twirl. He held her tightly while she caught her breath and balance, and his deep laughter at her happiness sounded like a dream.
The wind had picked up, and when they felt the first few splats of rain, they ignored the weather until it grew stronger, forcing them to race foolishly back to the dark alcove. Lark reached for her, and she gave herself up to his embrace, savoring her joy.
• • •
Later, alone in her chamber, Anna went over what she would need to do the next day. Her plan depended on the Nifolhadajans’ ignorance of Roger’s death. They would first see that the bridge had been drawn back and then move to the mill’s causeway, by now dismantled.
Thereafter, they would give in to their suspicions, and the situation would escalate. Anna and Baldric had already decided that the best way to gain time would be to ignore them. As a precaution, their captain would be sure to order the mordemurs constructed and put in place. Cellach had assured Anna that it would take at least eight hours to ready the weapons. With luck, the task wouldn’t be completed until late in the evening. Sure to be overconfident, the force from Nifolhad would rest before beginning the barrage the next morning.
She was tired and rested her head against the back of the couch, basking in the warmth of the fire. Before long, she drifted off to sleep, only to wake and find Lark kneeling over her. He was frowning at her.
“You didn’t hear me enter,” he pointed out.
“I may need to adjust the hinges on my door again,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. But his face was serious. “Lark, I didn’t intend to fall asleep. I just nodded off for a moment.”
“Promise me you’ll take more care.”
“You have my word,” she told him.
He sat next to her and took her in his arms. His voice was barely audible as he whispered, “I couldn’t survive if I lost you. You take so many risks. Today, in the courtyard, you were surrounded by so many people. Any one of them could have been loyal to Roger.”
Anna pushed him back from her. “Look under the cushion, Lark,” she ordered. “Go ahead, look.” He did, and found her dagger hidden there. “Gilles, Carrick, and the others, they were with me in the courtyard. I was aware of the danger, but what would you have had me do?”
“Stay in your chamber with the door barred whenever we are forced to part,” he suggested. “If I could, I would lock you away where no danger could find you.” Anna could see he meant every word even though she knew the reasonable part of his brain was telling him it was a foolish wish. “Why are you smiling at me, Anna?”
“I would accept such a cage, but only if you were locked away with me. And that can never be, can it?” She took his hand in hers. “Lark, there will always be risks. And danger. I will always put those I love ahead of myself if it means that I can save them. That includes you,” she added when his eyes darkened. “If it meant saving your life, I would throw myself—”
“Stop, Anna. I already know it to be true. I do not need to hear it spoken.”
Anna sighed, knowing the next evening would test Lark’s love for her. She turned away lest he see some hint of her plans.
“Forgive me,” he conceded. “I only want to protect you from all that is evil in this world.”
“We should stop talking about this,” she cautioned, “at least until this current threat is over.”
For the first time in their reckless affaire de cœur, they could not share their thoughts, and held back speaking that which they wanted most to say. Anna did not want the night to end in such a manner. Her heart ached that it should.
“I don’t know what will happen in the next few days,” Lark said, “but I—”
Anna stopped him by putting her fingers to his lips. “For tonight, can we forget tomorrow?” She didn’t want to hear his words, that he would protect her, save her even. And she didn’t want him involved in her scheme. There was nothing he could do to help, and his presence would put them in more danger. More likely, she reasoned, he would stop her from going.
By way of answer, Lark hugged her close to his chest and held her for a long time. They reclined near the fire. “Lark,” she said. “Do you think there is enough time for later?”
“The nice thing about later is that there is always time,” he answered. Her fears and uncertainties were erased as they fell into each other.
Chapter Fifty-Four—Mordemurs
It was late in the evening when Anna was finally free to return to her chamber. The day had gone as they predicted. At midday, word was brought that the Nifolhadajans had made the rise overlooking the Stolweg basin. Unfortunately, after discovering the retracted bridge and the mill’s dismantled causeway, they wasted no time assembling the mordemurs. With nightfall, their construction was complete. They were now celebrating across the river. No one came to the keep’s gate. No one requested an audience with Lord Roger. As careful as Baldric and the Guards had been in securing those loyal to Anna’s late husband, someone must have slipped through their net. The only logical conclusion as to why the Nifolhadajans had constructed the mordemurs was that they were cognizant of Roger’s demise.
Anna and Lark had just arrived at her chamber’s entrance when Trian hastened to them. “Ah, Lark, I was sent to find you. Baldric has called another meeting,” he explained.
Anna turned to go back to the council room. “My pardon, m’lady, but you are not required to attend this council. We’ll be discussing how best to protect Whitmarsh. Baldric wants a plan in place to destroy the weapons if they move to his castle. He awaits us now.”
“Of course,” Lark said. “I’ll just make sure Lady Anna’s quarters are secure.”
Fortune was smiling upon her, Anna thought. She wouldn’t have to make an excuse to Lark in order to retire early. In fact, she’d probably return before his meeting was even concluded. She waited patiently in the corridor while Lark entered her room.
“Go,” she urged him when he gazed at her with regret. “Baldric is waiting for you. There’s always later.” Much later, she hoped, knowing how thorough Baldric could be.
She closed her door as he walked away, quickly changed into dark breeches and tunic, and then, after belting on her dagger, she raced to the tapestry. She was through the narrow passageway to the west chamber in record time and dropped into the secret tunnel that would take her to the chapel. Will’s assistance had already been enlisted that afternoon, and it was imperative that she arrive before him.
Anna had just reached the altar when Will entered. “Any trouble getting here?” she asked.
“Only a little, my lady, most everyone is in the great hall where Cellach is giving them last-minute instructions.” He looked at her with concern. “Lady Anna, what is this about?”
She outlined her plan, explaining that there was only enough clearance under the machines for someone slight. Before Will could volunteer, she raised her hand to arrest his offer. “I won’t put any but myself in danger.” He didn’t look convinced. “Nothing will go wrong,” she assured him.
“Then why tell me, m’lady? Why not just go with none the wiser?”
“I don’t expect trouble. But just in case, I need you to tell the others what I tried to accomplish. Do you trust me, Will?”
“You know I do, my lady. I just don’t like this. How are you going to make it across the river unseen?” Anna moved behind the altar and pushed the carved rosette that opened the panel.
“Lady Anna!” Will gasped. “What is that?”
“It’s a tunnel, Will. It goes under the river and comes out in the crypt.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “I need you to remain here until I return. If I’m not back in two hours, find Cellach and tell him where I have gone. And, Will, wait near the chapel’s entrance. If the enemy should find this tunnel before I return, I’m counting on you
to raise the alarm.”
“Are you sure you have to do this, m’lady?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She stopped and turned back to him. “Should anything happen to me, though, tell Lark—”
“I won’t have to tell him anything, m’lady. You’ll be fine. You promised.”
Anna grabbed her lantern and ducked into the hole. Racing through the passageway, she ran over in her mind what Cellach had told her of the weapon’s workings. The mordemur’s throwing mechanism depended on the thick rope cables to give tension to the throwing arm and counterweight. A person could sabotage the weapons only by squeezing under the machine, a gap of less than two hands. Once there, a simple matter of slicing the main cable centered underneath the platform would do the trick. If the rope were not cut all the way through, the weapon would appear to be in working order, at least until the firing mechanism was thrown. The swinging arm would produce too much tension for the damaged cable, and the line would snap well before any payload could be released. If fortune favored Stolweg, the projectiles would crash down into the weapons, demolishing them.
She reached the tunnel’s egress, turned off the lamp, and entered the crypt, leaving the secret door open by a tiny gap. If she had to run, she didn’t want to waste time searching for the release button in the dark.
She strained her ears for sounds of the enemy outside, thinking her way clear, when the distinct rattle of the iron gate rang through the stone room. From where she had ducked behind the nearest crypt, she could make out the shape of a man. He must have seen the broken lock and seized the opportunity to loot the crypt. The unmistakable sound of the man’s water as he relieved himself echoed inside the sacred room. Crouching lower in the shadows, Anna cringed as the pommel of her dagger scraped across the surface of a tomb.
“Who’s there?” the soldier called out.
Anna remained silent. The soft steps of his boots betrayed his approach. On hands and knees, she crawled farther away. His sword whispered to her as it was pulled from its sheath.
“Show yourself, and I might spare you,” he whispered. Anna felt something under her fingers, a pebble on the cold floor.
She could hear his apprehension and silently drew her blade before tossing the pebble in the opposite direction. The sound of the soldier’s boots scraping the cracked stone floor told her that he’d turned to investigate. She came around the tomb and observed him in the dark crypt. She had an advantage over him. Her eyes had had more time to adjust to the limited light.
He was perhaps five feet away, his back turned, his sword held out in front of him. Silently, she stalked him from behind, her blade poised to strike. She took his measure and in an instant was able to determine the best angle of attack. Memories of hand-to-hand combat flooded her mind even as she reached both hands to encircle his face and neck. Her free hand drew his forehead sharply back while her dagger hand sliced across the tender flesh of his exposed throat.
A gush of blood flowed over her arm, and she stood back, her mind numb to the ruthless act she’d just committed. He reeled on her, trying to find the one who had taken his life. His eyes met hers for the briefest moment, then went blank. He died before he hit the floor.
Working quickly, Anna removed his uniform. Her mission would be that much easier if she were disguised as one of the enemy. The tunic was still warm and soaking from his blood. She secured his sword and belt around her waist before dragging the still-warm body into the passageway. Lastly, she donned his leather helmet, and then stepped out into the cool night, ready to tackle the sabotage of the mordemurs.
The Nifolhadajans were overconfident and not expecting trouble. Those not sleeping were well into their cups. There wasn’t even a sentry posted near the machines.
Anna slipped through the graveyard and walked to the first machine, trying as best she could to saunter like a man, acting like she belonged there. She noted that the closest soldiers were to her right, some thirty paces beyond the last machine.
She walked to the front of the mordemur, dropped to her knees, then crawled to its far side. Flat on her back on the trampled grass, Anna wormed her way under the gap. There was not much clearance under the mordemur, and absolutely no light.
With Cellach’s drawing fixed in her mind, she shimmied to the center of the great wagon. Her eyes tried to compensate for the blackness around her and could not. Reaching up with her hands, she found a tangle of ropes and strained to see which was which.
No, she thought, this was not working. She closed her eyes to shut off the useless sense. Relying only on the memories of Cellach’s design, she once again reached up, and this time found the correct cable to slice. Back and forth her dagger sawed at the thickly braided ropes, her fingers gauging what remained. The cords had been plaited of nine strands of thick hemp. With only two of the nine left to be cut, Anna slowed her sawing. She nicked one. The other she left intact to break on its own under the tremendous pull of the counterweight.
One machine down, nine to go. The Nifolhadajans had foolishly placed the weapons in a straight row, a mere ten paces from one to the next. Anna rolled to her stomach and crawled to the next machine to repeat the process.
She was filthy from the grass, dirt, and horse manure. Somewhere along the way, her hand landed in something the consistency of mud. Only it wasn’t. The stench was fetid, and human. These Nifolhadajans were disgusting, she thought, wiping her hand on the uniform she wore.
After redoubling her efforts, the sabotage of the second weapon was finally complete. She crawled along the front of each mordemur, hastening to make it back to the chapel before Will alerted the others. Eight, seven, six. Still no soldiers within the immediate area. Five, four, three. Then, voices!
She shimmied under the second-to-last mordemur, completed her work, and continued on to the final weapon. The two voices floated above the rush of the river, the night sounds of crickets and frogs, and the far-off conversations near the campfires. They were at the far end of the waiting machines. As Anna wormed her way back, she could make out what they were saying.
“Where is that young whelp? He left the weapons unguarded.”
The other man chortled, his speech slurred from too much drink. “Well, you’re late to relieve him. Mebbe he’s off looking for you.”
“Or to find some drink for himself,” the first soldier guessed. They had come closer, and were standing in front of the machine under which she was concealed.
“If thatsh the case, I think I’ll follow young John’s lead. I’ll bring shumthing back for you.”
“You’ll be sorry if you don’t! And if you see him, drag his lazy arse back here. His lordship will have us whipped if he finds out the weapons were left unattended.”
The feet of the drunken soldier staggered back to the campfires. The first soldier stood still for a moment. She watched perplexed as he shifted from foot to foot in a little dance, and she rolled away just before her face was splashed with urine. Animals. She cursed silently. The watchman continued his slow circuit of the machines before halting again at the first.
Her deadline weighed upon her. If she was to stop Will from raising the alarm, she needed to move. After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, the guard resumed his tour. She waited for him to reach the machine at the very end and step out of view to make his slow circuit around it. Then she edged out toward the opposite direction. The slope to the river was only steps from where she crouched. If she could make it there, she could continue crawling unseen for at least another twenty paces.
A thick mist rose from the shallow marsh near the river. Anna finally stood and, despite her instinct to run, walked with a casual gait to the graveyard. Twenty paces left. She heard a shout behind her.
“You there, John. Halt!”
• • •
Will reckoned that two hours had passed; he’d kept his promise. He raced from the chapel and found his father and mother speaking with Cellach. As qui
ckly as possible, he explained the circumstances. They raced back to the chapel. Doreen went to find Grainne.
• • •
The meeting with Baldric had concluded, and Trian and Tomas exited the keep in time to notice the dash across the courtyard. “Tomas, find Baldric and the others,” Trian ordered. “Send them to the chapel.” Tomas did not have long to search, for he found Baldric, Warin, and Ailwen on their way to their rooms. He described what he and Trian had witnessed. They too made haste to the chapel.
• • •
Lark had been the first to leave the council room, so great was his need to check on Anna. When he reached her chamber, he knocked. She did not answer, so he opened the door.
“Anna?” he whispered, and was answered with silence. Her bed was yet untouched. Far from worried, Lark imagined that she’d gone to check on the children. He went looking for her, and discovered Doreen at Grainne’s door. The two women were upset and fretting over something. Or someone.
“Where is Anna?” he demanded at once.
“She was in the chapel,” Grainne answered nervously.
Lark loomed menacingly over them. “What has she done?”
“We don’t know exactly. Will said something about sabotaging the mordemurs. She—” Lark did not wait to hear the rest.
• • •
The uniform Anna wore was now stiff and crusted with blood, dirt, and God only knew what else. She could smell the grime on her face and see it on her hands. Almost to the safety of the crypt, she forced herself not to run. Only twenty paces more and she would be in the graveyard. She ignored the first call.
“Ho, John.” This time she halted, afraid to cause suspicion. “I want a word with you. Now!”
It was the soldier who had been guarding the machines. If she ran, she could make it to the secret passage. But doing so would raise the alarm. On the other hand, he thought that she was just another soldier.
Wild Lavender: The Aurelian Guard - Book One Page 28
