"I see," he said quietly, but it was obvious he was disappointed. "But his demand that only my wife attend brings me to a rather unpleasant confession."
A seed of apprehension blossomed deep in Spencer' belly. He knew, before Edmund even elaborated, what that confession would be. Given the sinister reputation of The Darkland, there was no other alternative.
"And what is that, my lord?"
Edmund was emotionless as he spoke. "My wife threw herself from the tower the day after our wedding. I am afraid you will have the unpleasant duty of informing both le Vay and his wife that Lady Micheline is dead."
Spencer's body tensed, struggling to bite off words of condemnation that begged to come forth. But his control was not so strong that his cheeks did not flush, nor his pale blue eyes glitter with rage. Edmund noted the reaction, his own stance hardening.
"She did it herself!" He nearly shouted. "How dare you look at me as if... as if I had something to do with it. I never touched her!"
It was all Spencer could do to keep from refuting him. To do so would surely be to jeopardize his own life and freedom. Instead, he lifted his shoulders weakly.
"I never suggested otherwise, my lord." He was struggling to maintain his calm. But he simply couldn't hold himself back. "Given the reputation of Anchorsholme Castle, you will hardly blame le Vay or Lady Mara if they believe otherwise."
Edmund exploded. "I do not care what they think!" he bellowed. "This is my keep and the vassals within belong to me. I command the power of life and death within Anchorsholme, but I cannot control everything. Especially a distraught young woman determined to end her pitiful life. You will tell them this, de Shera, and you will make them understand!"
Spencer's jaw ticked. He had already said too much, as indicated by Edmund’s over-defensive rage. But, God help him, he simply couldn't help himself and more words spilled forth before he could stop them.
"I cannot make them understand when I do not understand, my lord." His voice was tight. "And there is something else I do not understand; why have you not had the courtesy to tell Kirk of your plans for his lady? Do not you think he will find out, eventually?"
Edmund grabbed the nearest weapon, a gilded candleholder with three thin tapers. Hurling it across the room, he narrowly missed Spencer's head.
"Get out!" he screamed. "Get out before I kill you myself! This is none of your affair and I shall kill you if you interfere!"
Spencer was wise enough to leave. Edmund raged and stormed, destroying anything he could get his hands on as Spencer marched from the room. By the time he reached the front door, he was very close to breaking himself. Lying bastard! he thought furiously.
His charger was still in the bailey, being tended by a stable hand. Spencer stormed up, yanking the reins from the young man. The servant scurried away and Spencer mounted, feeling desperate to put distance between himself and Edmund De Cleveley. If only for Mara's sake, he would like nothing better than to throttle the man. Punishment that was a long time in coming.
The charger snorted irritably in response to Spencer's frustrated movements. His stirrup was twisted and, muttering curses, he struggled to turn it around when a soft voice caught his attention.
Spencer glanced up into a pair of plain brown eyes. Actually, there were two pairs of identical brown eyes. Clinging to one another, the duplicate women emerged nervously from the shadows of the inner wall.
"My lord," the first lady began. "I am Lady Valdine Martin. My husband Corwin is serving with Sir Kirk in Ireland."
Spencer was still frustrated and angry. He paused in his struggles with the stirrup, sighing impatiently.
"And?"
The first woman swallowed. "My sister and I watched you..."
"... ride in and we heard the argument..."
"... with Lord Edmund. Is it true that Lady Mara..."
"... is marrying Lord le Vay?"
Definitely not a subject Spencer was willing to discuss. He cast the sisters an annoyed look and finished straightened out his stirrup.
"That is none of your affair," he said shortly. "If you will excuse me, I am expected back at Quernmore."
"Wait!" Valdine threw herself in front of the charger as Spencer spurred him forward. The animal danced and shrieked, thoroughly angering Spencer.
"Foolish wench, move aside!" he commanded.
But Valdine refused to move. "My lord, I cannot!" she said earnestly, glancing about to make sure there was no one to hear her. "Please, we must speak with you!"
Spencer had had enough of the pesky woman. "Move aside or I shall run you over."
Valdine swallowed hard, but she did not budge. "Lord Edmund lied, my lord."
Spencer stared at the woman. Her simple sentence had been enough to delay his departure. "What do you mean?"
Valdine moved closer to the horse, followed by her cowering sister. The two huddled together as they spoke.
"Lady Micheline is not dead," Valdine murmured. "Lord Edmund wished..."
"... her dead, but Sir Corwin saved her."
The speech pattern was strange but Spencer could not spare it any thought; at the moment, the message they bore was far more intriguing.
"Your husband?" He looked to Valdine. "But why did Lord Edmund tell me she was dead?"
"Because he does not know she lives." Valdine's voice was hoarse with emotion, with urgency. "My husband took her..."
"... to the tower in the hope that Sir Kirk would..."
"... return to escort her to sanctuary. But Sir Kirk..."
"... is in Ireland now, not to return for some time."
Spencer' anger cooled as the story unfolded. "Is the lady still in the tower?"
The women nodded in unison. "Since we cannot rely on Sir Kirk, we must..."
"... help her ourselves."
"And how will you do this?"
Valdine looked at her sister, the two of them obviously terrified. Spencer dismounted his charger.
"Tell me."
Valdine took a deep breath. "We had hoped to dress her in peasant clothing and whisk her from the keep."
"A valid scheme."
Valdine nodded hesitantly. "We were planning to do it today. Lady Micheline has the clothes in her possession, but..."
"... finding an escort to take her to the monastery at Crosby has..."
"... been difficult."
"How so?"
Valdine glanced about as her sister trembled. "The soldiers who remain are reluctant to go against their liege. I sincerely believed we would..."
"... have their support, but it would seem that out of loyalty to the House of de Cleveley, they are fearful of the consequences should..."
"... their aid to Baroness Bowland be discovered."
Spencer glanced to the battlements, noting the positioning of sentries, old soldiers who had seen better days. Scratching under his hauberk, he sighed heavily.
"I see," he said softly. "And you would have me assist you?"
Valdine almost collapsed. "Oh, my lord, we were fearful to ask. Other than a few peasant children and servants, we have no help..."
" ... at all. It has been terribly frustrating!"
"What on earth are they afraid of?"
"Of the curse of The Darkland. They are fearful that it..."
"... will turn against them if they defy Lord Edmund."
Spencer sighed again, turning to glance at the structure behind him. "So the fear of the evils of The Darkland has prevented anyone from going against the grain." He returned his focus to the trembling women. "Well, I for one do not fear The Darkland or her reputation. And if Lady Micheline needs a champion, then I am determined to help her."
Valdine reached out, grasping his mailed hand. "Thank you, my lord. We truly feared we were at an end."
Spencer was feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction that he would be bringing shame to Edmund by rescuing his wife from under his nose. But more than that, he was determined to prevent the death of another young woman at the han
ds of a man who had no concept of the value of life. Spencer was brave and strong, and he was not afraid to do what was right.
"You have come to the right man, ladies," he said confidently. "I shall escort Lady Micheline to Crosby and take great pleasure in doing so. Now, it would seem we must solidify the plan. Do you think you can bring her down from the tower without incident?"
Valdine and Wanda nodded. "The plan is to take her through..."
"... the kitchens and out through the tunneled gate."
"Where is the gate?"
"On the north side, by the kitchen yard," Valdine replied.
Spencer tightened his gauntlets. "Bring her. I shall be waiting."
Valdine and Wanda dashed away without another word. Spencer mounted his charger, passing a final glance at the towering structure of Anchorsholme and resisting the urge to smile.
Not another, you bastard. You will not take another!
***
Johanne entered the smelly solar, locating her brother by the lancet window. He seemed preoccupied, staring over the bailey, as she approached and rubbed against his leg.
"What did Spencer have to say?" she purred, grabbing his flaccid member through his hose.
Edmund pushed her hand away, still gazing over the bailey. "He came to tell me that le Vay is marrying Mara. And to escort Micheline to the wedding."
Johanne would not be deterred. She lifted her skirt and straddled Edmund’s leg, bumping her Venus Mound against his thigh. "There was never any doubt that the old man would take to her," she replied. "What did you tell him of Micheline?"
"That she threw herself from the tower." He was thinking on pushing her away again but his physical reaction was difficult to ignore. "He did not believe me, I could tell. Now, why on earth would he be speaking to Valdine and Wanda?"
The change of subject captured Johanne's attention and she stopped rubbing against him long enough to peer from the window, following his gaze. After a moment, she shrugged and returned to masturbating.
"I suppose they want to find out if Spencer knows anything about the conflict in Ireland." She licked her brother's ear. "On your desk, dear. I need you now."
Edmund ignored her, watching curiously as Valdine and Wanda suddenly rushed away from Spencer. The knight mounted his horse and bolted from the inner bailey, leaving Edmund thoroughly puzzled by their behavior.
"Not now." He moved away from his sister. "I want to see what Valdine and Wanda are up to. Something is not right; they were acting very strangely."
"They always act strangely." Johanne followed her brother as he quit the solar. "Where are we going?"
Edmund gestured to the door leading to the bailey. "Where they went."
"And if they went nowhere?"
Edmund paused by the door, the dust from the bailey filling his nostrils. "They are up to something, Johanne. And I must discover what it is. They had no valid reason to speak to Spencer, and suddenly they dash away from him as if he has sent them on an errand. Though I cannot imagine what that would be."
Johanne pursed her lips irritably. "Something subversive, I am sure."
"Do not mock me. The man stood in my solar not five minutes ago accusing me of killing my wife. There is no way of knowing what treachery he is up to. Enlisting Valdine and Wanda to help him, no less!"
Johanne was impatient. She did not believe her brother's suspicions and was impatient for him to take her. Throwing up her hands, she agreed. "Fine. Let's discover what they are all up to. And then I demand you pay attention to me."
"Later." He pulled her after him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Micheline found that the garments worn by the serving wenches were hardly different from her own clothing. Coarse, simple, without flair. But her surcoats were clean, whereas the rags Valdine and Wanda had brought her were filthy and louse-ridden. But she put them on, willing to subject herself to such squalor if it would help in her escape.
There was no time frame for her break to freedom; day or night made no difference. When Valdine and Wanda deemed the conditions safe, they would escort Micheline through a secured route. But what had been most disheartening was the fact that no one seemed eager to help. Aye, everyone knew of Micheline's predicament. But when the twins went about soliciting assistance, no one was willing to involve themselves in a risky situation. No one but the children, that is.
Robert, Fiona, Gilly and George. They had stolen the peasant clothing, and they pestered people to aid Micheline's cause. Determined little buggers, they had gone so far as to steal one old soldier's breeches in an attempt to force him to their will. But the ploy had only managed to get Robert a whipping, from his mother no less, who was helping in her own right by giving Valdine and Wanda food to take to the baroness.
Micheline could have very easily been discouraged by the fact that the servants who hated Edmund were likewise unwilling to go against him. But she wasn't, for she could understand their fear of a man who held their lives in his demented hands. Still, she had Valdine and Wanda and four little peasants who were determined to aid her. And for that, she was grateful.
It was just prior to the nooning meal on the ninth day of her incarceration. Micheline was standing by the window, itching her bug bites, when the rusty latch was thrown. She rushed to the door to be met by the twins, more pleased than she had ever seen them.
"It is time!" Valdine announced.
Micheline's stomach twisted in knots of excitement and terror. "Then you have managed to find me an escort to Crosby?"
Valdine and Wanda were grinning. "Better than..."
"... that, my lady. A very powerful knight..."
"... has come to your rescue."
Micheline was puzzled. "A knight? I do not understand."
"Sir Spencer de Shera, my lady," Valdine said, pulling a scruffy scarf over Micheline's head. "He is pledged to Lord Lionel le Vay of Quernmore."
"Where Mara is?" Micheline stood still as the sisters' fussed with the scarf. "Did Mara send him?"
The twins' smiles faded. "Nay, my lady, Lord le Vay sent him." Valdine passed a long glance at Wanda, who finished the sentence. "He came to announce the marriage of Lady Mara to Lord Lionel le Vay."
Micheline's eyes widened. "What?"
The twins hustled her to the landing just outside the door. Wanda closed the panel as Valdine began their reply. "We saw him ride in and..."
"... listened outside the door as he spoke with Edmund. 'Twould seem..."
"... that Edmund sent a missive to le Vay proposing a marriage with your sister. Of course,..."
"... Kirk does not know this. We would suspect that..."
"... Edmund is grateful for the convenience of the Irish uprising to put Kirk far, far away while..."
"... the marriage is carried out."
Micheline was in shock. "Mara is to marry this... this le Vay? My God, she must be devastated!"
The tower was cold, musty, as Wanda took the lead, taking the ladies down the stairs.
"One thing is certain, my lady." It was the first time Micheline had ever heard Wanda speak before her sister. "The urgency to remove you is greater now than ever."
An entire sentence by herself! Had Micheline not been so consumed with distress over Mara's marriage, she would have given praise to Wanda's individuality.
"Why?" she asked quietly, jumping aside as a rat scurried past her feet. "Why more so now, Wanda?"
Wanda remained silent as they neared the second floor landing. Down the hall, a flight of stairs used only by the servants would take them to the kitchens. Once through the kitchens where Gilly and George were standing look-out, it would be to the kitchen yard were Robert waited to make sure the iron gate was open. And Fiona, positioned just outside the outer wall where Spencer should be waiting, carried a bundle of food for the trip.
"Because we saw Johanne near the tower entrance yesterday," she replied belatedly. "She was aware..."
"... that we have been in the tower and no doubt she is curi
ous. It is quite possible..."
"... that her curiosity will cause her to search in places that are better left undiscovered."
Micheline gasped softly. "Why did not you tell me this before?"
"Because we discouraged her with tales..."
"... of my cat lost in the tower. She hates cats."
The second floor corridor was dimly lit, a heavily smoking torch the only light. Wanda grabbed Micheline's hand as the three of them slipped down the hall, silent footfalls to the narrow flight of steps.
The stairwell was dark but Wanda plunged forward. Micheline steadied herself by gripping the stone wall, fearful that she would fall at their fast pace. Smells from the kitchen grew stronger and Micheline was nearly able to breathe a sigh of relief; she was closer to freedom than she had been for days.
Aye, she almost felt a sense of peace. But not yet. The sharp heat of the kitchen slapped her in the face as she emerged into the large, smelly room. And the first thing she saw was a little girl's pale face.
Micheline smiled, suspected it was one of her rescuers. There was a boy standing next to the young girl, a bit older, his dirty face ashen and strange-looking.
"Are you to help me?" she asked gently. "What are your names?"
"Edmund," came a voice from behind. "And I believe you know my sister, Johanne."
The three women whirled about, gasps of fright echoing off the kitchen walls. Edmund smiled lazily as Johanne stood next to the fat cook and her equally fat assistant, both women bound and gagged. Micheline and the twins watched in horror as Johanne took a roasting spit from the wall and jabbed it into the cook's arm, drawing a stream of blood.
"So good of you to join us for supper, Baroness Bowland," she said, running her finger along the rivets of blood and licking it. "We are to have a great feast tonight. Roasting those who have betrayed the House of de Cleveley."
Lords of Eire: An Irish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 97
