by Hall, Diana
Beatrice drew back, her blue eyes wide. She placed one hand over her mouth. The look on her face answered Roen’s question. This friend had tried to kill his wife; he would have his name.
“Whose is it?” Hamlin tried to coax the answer from the startled girl.
“Nay, why give you the name when you must already hold him captive? What have you done with him?” Beatrice demanded. “This is all a game. ‘Tis you that expose Lenora to peril.” She tried to rush past them to the door of the barbican.
Falke and his companions blocked the girl’s exit. Beatrice fought to break free of the barricade of men.
“Tell him the name, Beatrice.” A hollow voice issued the command from behind the wall of men.
The knights stood aside and Tom approached, supporting a slumped man with his arm around his waist. A collective gasp echoed in the hall when the weaker man lifted his head. Beatrice shrank back from the man’s outstretched arm. Servants and noblemen alike looked at one another in fear. Several made the sign of the cross to ward off an evil spirit.
Roen swore under his breath, then repeated the curse out loud. Used. Both he and Lenora had been deceived. A bitter taste coated his mouth. The accusations flung at him, the tension between him and his wife, all a waste.
Ozbern rushed forward to relieve Tom of his burden. “The deception was mine,” Sir Edmund admitted in a tired sigh. “I planned my demise to force out the knave who was trying to poison me. The person who tried to drive my daughter away. Tell him the name he seeks or Lenora’s life is forfeit. I fear your friend is Woodshadow’s traitor.”
“Nay, Geoffrey would not do such a thing!” Beatrice wailed.
“Champlain. I should have known. Come. I know where they are.” Roen rushed past the quaking girl. Falke and his men fell in step behind.
Roen passed his father-in-law and paused. Sir Edmund took a long, wheezing breath. “I did not think it in the boy to do such evil. I never suspected him.”
“There is much you did not suspect. Did you suspect your death would be an easy trial for your daughter to bear? Do you know what pain she endured?”
The older man nodded. “I knew. And if you do not rescue her, that pain will have been for naught.” His hand gripped Roen’s forearm with surprising strength.
The man still possessed a fierce thread of vitality, a will to survive. If Roen found Lenora dead, would that slender thread break? Would he himself break? Roen returned the elder knight’s handshake and rousted the knights of the keep.
A call to arms sounded and the inner bailey surged with life. Horses and men filled the area below the barbican steps. Destrier paced back and forth, not winded from the morning ride. Goliath increased the bedlam by running in between the horses’ and men’s legs.
“Goliath, heel.” Roen mounted his charger and spotted his second in command on a chestnut stallion. Goliath obeyed the command. At the zenith of its path across the sky, the sun issued a warning. Autumn days left little time for afternoon light. The canopy of the woods would shorten that light even more. He had wasted too much time with Beatrice.
Falke and his knights, mounted on their horses, formed the core of the troop. Roen extended his hand to his cousin. “My thanks for your aid.”
“Lenora is my cousin, also, now that she has married into the family.”
The doors of the inner and outer baileys creaked open and framed the road and woods beyond. Today a pall hung over the green. Death hovered over the treetops, grinning at Roen.
Destrier’s hooves touched the hard dirt of the road. Roen squeezed his knees and the horse broke into a gallop. The thunder of hooves pounded behind him. He looked ahead to the dark gloom of the forest. Death would not go away emptyhanded this day.
“Just a bit further, Lenora,” Geoffrey called from around a curve on the trail.
Her side ached from running. Perspiration stung her eyes. She wiped her face with the end of her chemise. A ring of dust along the edge of the undergown marked every step she had taken from her home. Even with her familiarity with the forest, Geoffrey had managed to twist and turn down so many paths that she couldn’t be sure of exactly where they were. The knowledge offered her some comfort. If she couldn’t have found them, neither could Roen.
“Are you coming?” Geoffrey poked his head out from behind a birch tree at the bend in the trail.
“Aye.” Lenora started off at a slow trot down the path. She couldn’t see Geoffrey, but she sensed his motion. The sound of his footsteps and the scrape of branches snapping back in place told her he didn’t outdistance her by much.
Around one more turn and she saw her friend cupping water with his hand from a clear brook. The dryness of her throat made her close the gap between them and drop next to him. Leaning on her side, she sank her hand deep into the cool water. Each sip gave her strength to continue. Her thirst slaked, she rolled over to sit on the stream’s bank.
“I know you’re tired, Lenora.” Geoffrey gave her a weak smile. “But just a few steps more and then you’ll have the proof you seek.”
She smiled back. “Thank you, Geoffrey. You’ve been a true friend to me.”
“I have tried.” Geoffrey’s voice cracked as he helped her rise from the brook. His hand felt cold and icy. A chill of disquiet rushed through her and she longed to stay at the stream. She hesitated before following.
“You cannot postpone the inevitable,” he said, and moved into the brush.
No matter the heartache, the truth about her husband must be revealed. Lenora gathered what was left of her stamina and mirrored her rescuer’s steps.
Geoffrey stood near a fallen tree and stared at his feet. Lenora looked down and her heart missed a beat. Broken bones littered the leaf-covered ground. A centipede crawled through the eye sockets of an animal skull. Geoffrey bent and picked it up.
“Geoffrey, put that disgusting thing down.” Lenora backed away from him.
He looked up at her, his mouth turned down in a pout. His eyes chastised her. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” He bent and began to rearrange the bones like a puzzle.
“Come, let’s be gone from this place.” She gritted her teeth and forced herself to sound unafraid.
“In a moment, but first, come closer and see what I’ve done.” Geoffrey stood and waved his hand at his creation.
She took the smallest steps possible to approach the macabre object. Geoffrey had opened the skull to show the mouth wide in agony. Curved ribs were stuck in the moist, fertile soil to stand upright. A long tail wrapped around the body. He had filled in missing bones with small rocks.
“Doesn’t it remind you of something?” Geoffrey’s voice teased. His smile looked like that of a little boy who had been caught being naughty. He pushed her in front of him for a closer look.
The skeleton screamed at her in death. The long body cried out to her in silent recrimination. She looked away and then, in horror, looked back. Fleshed out, with dark black fur, the bones formed the shape of…“Gladymer.” She choked out the beloved name.
“Aye, that’s it.” Geoffrey danced in a circle. He captured her hands with his and forced her to join in the jig.
She lost control of her anger and struggled to free herself. “Stop. Stop it. This is too cruel.”
He froze, one knee bent in the air. The expression on his face melted from one of childlike joy to sorrow. “Nay, Lenora, do not call me cruel.” He dropped her hands and a tear trickled down his cheek. The upraised leg lowered slowly, and his breathing became loud and heavy. “I thought you would welcome seeing your old and true friend once again. Through his death, you can trace the person responsible for all your grief.”
Geoffrey’s sympathetic demeanor confused her. How could he think to show her such a tragic sight, now, when they were running for their very lives? This could have no relevance to Roen’s guilt or innocence. Or could it? She left Geoffrey and returned to the whitened bones of her dog.
Kneeling at the remains of her pet, she forced
her fingers to probe through the moldy leaves and dirt. They closed on the hard, cold touch of steel. She tugged hard, and the rusty but still strong length of chain popped through the layers of composting debris and snapped in her hand when it reached the tree trunk.
“Geoffrey, look. Someone chained Gladymer out here. Do you know what this means?” She rose and faced her friend. The chain dropped from her hand and she rushed to embrace him. “Roen could not have done this. He was in Tintagel when Gladymer disappeared.”
“Aye, that he was.” With his hand at her elbow, he led her back toward the tree trunk. “Does it make you happy to know your husband is not guilty of the crime you suspected?”
“A heavy weight has lifted from my shoulders,” Lenora said. “Yet, still I do not understand his actions. You say that whoever is responsible for Gladymer’s death is the cause of my troubles. But ‘tis Roen who tricked my father and lied to me.”
Geoffrey rested his hands on her shoulders. “I think perhaps he was trying to protect you.” His hands trailed down her arms and encircled her wrists. “I wish he had been more successful.” Sobs caught in his throat as he twisted her arms behind her back. Startled, Lenora tried to bolt, but Geoffrey yanked her arms upward. Pain lanced up her arms and shoulders, stopping her flight. Holding her wrists with one hand, Geoffrey grabbed the heavy chain and wrapped the links around her wrists. Tears fell freely down his handsome face as he spoke. “I was always gentle with you. I never wanted to kill you. I begged you to leave. You know that!” She felt hard leather and chain bite into her flesh. The snap of a lock clarified her danger. He helped her to the ground. Her arms tingled at her shoulders from the tension he exerted on her leash. He yanked the chain. A desperate need for her agreement flashed across his face. “You know that, right?”
“Aye.” Terror raced through her. Geoffrey’s eyes burned with a strange inner light. She struggled to her knees.
A flash of irritation quirked Geoffrey’s hps. “Why didn’t you leave when you had the chance?” He shook his head to chastise her.
Lenora forced herself to think and remain calm. She coached her voice to a soothing tone. “Then let me go, Geoffrey. I’ll do as you say. I’ll return to Aquitaine if that’s what you want.”
A sad smile creased his lips, and once again he was her old friend Geoffrey. With gentle hands, he caressed her cheek. “You could have been my salvation, my refuge from my father’s torments, from Daphne’s shame.” Accusation hardened his voice. “But you fell in love with him instead of me.”
She pulled away, startled at his confession.
With his hand, he recaptured her chin. “Aye, ‘tis true. I loved every quip and insult you flung at my father. Your words stirred me to such passion.” His lips lowered, and Lenora twisted to avoid them. Like a vise, his hand forced her to meet them. He lifted his mouth from hers, and she spat the taste of him from her mouth.
“But, there is the problem. You’re too strong for me.” He released her and sat against the trunk of a tree. “You only saw me as a friend, not as a mate. Which meant I had to settle for Beatrice and get rid of you. But I didn’t want to hurt you.” He sighed with frustration. “I worked so hard, Lenora, to think of ways to drive you away.” His tone implied an insult at her inconsideration. “First your dog, then your horse. And of course, I killed your father. And it was all to protect you.”
“Nay, Geoffrey, my father died of illness and his own pride.”
He crowed with glee. “Nay, dear friend, ‘twas me.” The mad gleam in his eye flared. “I found the secret passage to his room and poisoned him. And I was so clever about it. Just a little at a time. That was his illness.” He snapped his fingers together.
“Why did you do this?” Her fingers tried to work the leather band around her wrists. Anger and fear spread through her body. Murder meant nothing to this man. Insanity had purged the compassionate soul of her friend.
“For Woodshadow, of course. ‘Tis my home. A haven from the blows of my father.” He looked at her so innocently she found it hard to believe he had caused her so much pain. “You think you know the level of his depravity, but you do not.”
“You would always be welcomed at Woodshadow.”
He jumped to his feet. She stopped the frantic movement of her fingers and held her breath.
“Welcomed.” He pounded his chest with his fist. “I don’t want to be welcomed. I need to be in control.” His fist dropped and so did the volume of his voice. “I need a place where I am safe and so is Daphne. Father can’t touch her at Woodshadow. And he touches her, touches her where a father should never place his hand.” Geoffrey’s eye twitched and he massaged his temple. His eyes grew misty.
Lenora’s heart ached at the pain reflected there. Poor, wretched Geoffrey, his father’s evil had driven him mad.”’Tis all right, my friend.” She tried to reach a kernel of the boy she had grown up with. “Bring Daphne to Woodshadow and she’ll be protected. Roen and I will protect you both.”
“Roen and you?” Geoffrey snorted in disgust. “He’d be the same as Father. He’d touch her, too, just like he did Beatrice.” He wiped the palms of his hands on his tunic. They left sweaty prints on the worn material.
“Woodshadow has to be mine. ‘Tis the only way Daphne and I can truly escape Father. Beatrice’s request for aid explained the true contract. Since Beatrice believes Roen is a deceiver ‘twill be easy enough to convince her to marry me. Then I will be Lord of Woodshadow.” Standing rigid, he jutted his chin out in a defiant manner. Then his stance softened and he gave her an apologetic look. “But to be lord now, I have to kill you. And your child. ‘Tis the only way.” His hands reached out and closed around her neck.
“Fan out.” Roen swept through the clearing, beating the tall grass with his broadsword. They must be here! Where else would she meet him? He listened for a call, some signal from one of the men that his wife had been found. None came.
Goliath bounded through the long blades of grass. He chased at Roen’s heels then raced away. The dog brought him a stick and laid it at his feet.
“Not now, Dog.” Roen pushed him away. Goliath ran off, then brought him a bigger stick.
Hamlin called from across the clearing. “No luck. They’re not here.”
Roen raked his fingers through his hair. “Where? Where would the coward go to do his fiendish deeds?” Goliath barked and picked up the stick again. His tail wagged back and forth. Heaven, he could do without the beast’s commotion. He needed to think. To think like Geoffrey. Goliath’s barks increased in volume and pitch.
“Heavens, that’s it!” Roen resheathed his sword and raced toward Hamlin and Destrier. “The dog, Hamlin! Remember the dog? He must have her there.” Roen leaped onto Destrier’s back. His spurs dug into the stallion’s withers.
The white charger’s front legs climbed into the air. Roen felt the thud when all four feet hit the ground. Air whistled in his ears. He gave the horse free rein to pick the way through the woodlands. With gentle pressure, he guided the direction. How many times had his mount’s excellent training saved him in battle? This battle could be won or lost in a hoofbeat.
The stream flowed between the banks of soft, wet grass. An idyllic picture to mask the treachery nearby. He pulled the charger to a halt and dropped the reins. The stallion was winded, Destrier’s belly rose and fell in deep breaths. Three hard runs in less than a day; the horse could give no more.
Roen pulled his broadsword from the scabbard and melted into the brush. Gladymer’s bones should be just ahead. Darkness began to overtake the afternoon light. The shadows of the trees grew fat and blended into one another. He kept to the darkness and circled closer to the area where the bones lay.
With the tip of his sword, he parted the brambles of a berry bush. Thorns scratched his face and stuck to his leather jerkin. The log lay to the left of his vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Red gold color flashed across the top. His Nora lived.
Every nerve burned to hold his w
ife, to hear her voice. He took a step forward. Stopped. Watched. Listened. The crown of Lenora’s head thrashed back and forth. Only the sad song of a bird broke the silence. Had Champlain staked her out like the dog, to die of exposure and starvation?
From shadow to shadow he scrambled nearer. Close enough to hear his wife’s muffled cries and her attempts to break the bonds holding her. He slid from the darkness. No challenge rang from the oppressive gloom around him.
Drawing near to Lenora’s shaking form, he saw that half of her face lay in the compost of the woods’ floor. Staked to the ground like a Druid sacrifice, she tried to sit up but the short chain prevented her.
“Nora.” He tried to warn her of his approach. Her head swiveled around. Dark gold eyes darted from side to side. The agitated sounds from the gag amplified. She kicked out her legs wildly. Kneeling to remove her gag, he noticed her eyes focus behind him.
The explosion of his battle instincts warned him of motion. Roen leaned over Lenora’s body and a flash of steel cut the air. Pain ripped through his sword arm and across his hand. His weapon fell from his grip. Warm blood ran down his arm and dripped on his wife’s face. His fighting arm swung uselessly at his side. Geoffrey kicked the long blade out of his reach. With his good arm, Roen pushed himself off the ground. He must maneuver the fight away from Lenora. He retreated and Geoffrey lunged.
A deep chuckle came from the man’s lips, then his voice changed to a youthful chant. “Galliard’s goin’ to die. Galliard’s goin’ to die.” At each stanza, Geoffrey’s eye twitched and he slashed his blade at Roen’s chest.
The truth hit him hard. Insanity lit his foe’s eyes with a demoniac gleam. The eerie contrast between the satanic features and childish voice sent a shiver up Roen’s spine. To be vanquished now would mean death not only for himself but also for Lenora. He reached for his belt and retrieved his own dagger.
“I heard you coming,” Geoffrey taunted. His eye twitched and distorted his features. “I was going to kill her right away, but I decided to wait. To use her as bait.” The rhyme caused him to laugh. “Ah, Lenora always did enjoy my prose.” He turned to look at the woman twisting on the ground.
