by Lisa Shea
Linota shivered with cold, and Joan became aware of the hollowness in the women’s eyes. “There’ll be plenty of time later for us to catch up on what went on here,” she reassured the woman. “Let’s get you safely home.”
In a few minutes Father Picot’s horse was hooked back up to the cart. Joan and Hugh helped the rescued women climb into its back, and Ymbert lifted Sybil up to join them. Joan then passed around stable blankets to ward off the evening chill.
Norman returned, prodding Father Picot in front of him. The rope which had helped Sybil down to safety was now put to good use, tying Father Picot to the back of the cart.
In a moment the rest of the group had mounted. They started the long trek back to civilization, the moon shining their way home.
Joan took the back of the group, her eyes attentively roaming the woods and the path behind, ever alert for danger. But occasionally they came to rest on Linota, and on Hugh, where he rode at the head of the group.
Just what would she learn, when the truth was finally revealed?
Chapter 11
Joan groaned into life from what seemed a full day’s slumber. Every part of her body either ached or throbbed. There was a welt on the back of her shoulder, a grinding pain digging into her left calf, and her throat felt as if someone had tried to strangle her with a wet cat. She wearily blinked, rolling herself into a seated position.
Someone pressed a metal mug into her hands. She drank down the rich ale, relishing the flavor, draining the mug fully before handing it back. Finally her eyes came open.
The room was completely unknown to her.
It was a comfortably sized room, sparsely furnished, burnished by the warm glow of the late morning sun. The dark wood floors were polished until they gleamed. The one large window gazed into the green branches of nearby maple trees – she was on the second floor. A low table had a pair of tangerine cushions before it, and a set of shelves held metal mugs, pottery bowls, and a trio of wooden spoons. The thick blanket on top of her was the rich swirling colors of sunset.
Hugh’s voice at her side was low, almost hesitant. “Welcome to my home.”
Memories came back to her now. How exhausted she had been by the time they returned to the tavern, how Hugh had caught her in his arms as she practically fell from her horse. The tavern had blossomed into a celebration of homecoming for the kidnapped women, but Hugh had carried her up the long, external steps behind the tavern, bringing her to his apartment on the second floor, overlooking the back woods.
He gave an apologetic shrug. “Makes it easier for me to work with clients, if I live just upstairs,” he explained. “They always know where to find me in an emergency.”
She turned to sit sideways on the bed – and stopped. Behind her, hanging on the wall behind the pillows, was a large, carved round of oak. In its center was the form of a soaring seagull.
She reached out a hand, tracing its curled wingtips, the bright gleam in its eye. For a moment she could hear the call of the sea, breathe in the rich, salty air.
“It’s gorgeous,” she murmured.
He gave a wry smile. “It’s the only thing I brought back with me from the Holy Land. I found a talented wood carver who lived near the courtyard and paid him to sit there studying the seagulls.” His eyes held hers. “I had a faint hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he would end up carving his form based on the one you had been dancing with on that ledge by the sea.”
She put a hand up to him, he came down at her gentle pressure, and for a long while the aches and bruisings became a distant memory.
*
Joan leant over the large, round table in the tavern’s back room, eagerly taking another spoonful of the venison stew. She was starving, and despite its disreputable appearance the place did have a talented cook working in its kitchens. Ada moved around the table, refilling mugs of ale from a pitcher. The late afternoon sun sent golden streaks across the room, and candles glimmered from several sconces.
Hugh looked over to Norman. “So are most of the women safely returned to their homes?”
Norman nodded his head. “Lord Weston’s guards are arriving at a steady rate. There will be quite a number of celebrations going on tonight, and enough church candles lit in gratitude to illuminate the entire county.”
Sybil was raising her mug to her lips with two mittened hands, and Ymbert gave it a gentle lift from below to assist. She nodded her thanks to him. When she put the mug back down, she commented, “I think Linota was going to come by in a little while to share what she knew of the wolves’ heads. While we might have killed the leader, it would still be good to bring the remaining fiends to justice.”
Ada shouldered the door open and glanced back at the group. “Here she is now,” she called out. Her mouth spread into a smile. “She looks a bit peaked after last night’s festivities.”
Indeed, there were dark shadows around Linota’s eyes, but her face lit up with pleasure as she came into the room. She moved around to each person, offering them a warm hug, before settling down in the empty chair. In a moment Ada was back, placing a fresh mug of ale before her.
Linota raised up her mug, and the rest mirrored her action.
“To clearing out the vermin,” offered Linota in a clear voice.
Mugs clinked together, and they all drew down a long swallow of the amber liquid.
Hugh ran his eye over her. “So, you are all right? No injuries from your ordeal?”
She shook her head. “They were careful with us,” she explained. “I imagine they wanted their merchandise to remain as healthy as possible to fetch the highest price.”
He nodded in understanding. “What happened when you arrived at their camp?”
“Father Picot took me as far as the stables, and then a pair of guards escorted me into the main building. On the ground floor was a room with a ring of lamps and an X painted in the center of the room. I was told to stand on the X, and they circled around me, looking me over. I was worried that they might force me to undress, but apparently they have this down to a science and had no need for that. They simply made some notes in a book, asked me a few questions about my background, and that was that.”
She pursed her lips. “I assume that investigations of a more … intimate nature are done further along in the process. I almost got the sense that they did not want to tempt the guards in any way. By leaving us unseen for now, they reduced the risk their wares would be spoiled.”
Joan tucked the last bite of the venison in her mouth and washed it down with some ale. Her stomach bulged with comfortable fullness, and she leant against Hugh. His arm came up around her as if it had always belonged there.
Linota looked around the group. “It was eerie. I almost got the sense that I was being looked out for. I was spoken to kindly. They asked if I wanted anything in particular. The guards treated me as if I were their sister. I could see how some of the women began to relax and become friendly with the guards.”
Sybil scowled. “Well, I found Umberto to be anything but friendly,” she grumbled.
Linota glanced over in surprise. “Oh, Umberto wasn’t running the camp,” she corrected. “I’m not sure what he got called in to do. Cecily was the one handling everything.”
A jolt of electricity ran down Joan’s spine, and Hugh’s arm tensed around her hip. Joan leant forward. “A woman named Cecily was there?”
Linota nodded. “She had to leave yesterday morning for some reason, but before then she was running the camp. She had this way of talking with the women, convincing them that this was all in their best interest.” She pressed her lips together. “I think some of the women half-believed it.”
Joan’s throat went dry. “Did you get a sense of where Cecily was from? Was she local?”
Linota shook her head. “She said she was from the Holy Land, and her voice had a trace of an accent.”
Hugh’s brow creased in confusion. “What in the world is she doing out here?”
Linota shrugged her s
houlders. “Apparently she had a man she loved back in Jaffa, but an ex-girlfriend caused all sorts of trouble for her and –”
Joan’s voice burst out before she could rein it in. “Ex-girlfriend?”
Linota looked up in surprise, her face paling at the emotion she saw on Joan’s face. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”
Joan turned to Hugh, the events of that night in the ravine swirling back in on her. She took in a deep breath. “I need to know what happened to Michael.”
Hugh’s eyes were shadowed. “Maybe now is not the best time to –”
She shook her head, holding his gaze with focused intensity. “Linota certainly deserves to know, if it’s in any way related to her husband being slain and her sister-in-law being kidnapped. The rest might as well hear, if we’re going to be going after Cecily.”
Hugh seemed to go within himself for a moment. At last he nodded. He leant back from her, taking both her hands in his.
“After the day I saw you in the open air courtyard, I became convinced we would cross paths again,” he explained. “I went back there every afternoon, hoping against hope that you would show up. Every day for a month I sat at that same table, watching the seagulls soar.” His gaze shadowed. “And every day I went home alone.”
He ran a thumb over her fingers. “Then there was a day that a courier I had to meet with ran late. I remember being frustrated with him, sure that this would be the one day you arrived. When we were finally done with the transaction, I raced as quickly as I could to get to the courtyard. It was past dark by then, and the square was almost deserted.”
He looked down at her hands. “I saw Michael at the far end of the plaza, by the stone wall overlooking the cliffs. He was arguing with a woman, and at that distance I thought it was you.”
Tension rippled through his shoulders. “Fury burst through me when I saw him. I was in a rage that he had somehow managed to steal you away from me.”
He looked up and gave a wry smile. “At the time you were his, which makes my anger even less appropriate. But I remember even now the power of it, how it took every ounce of my self-control to remain in place, to not storm over and challenge him.”
Joan’s chest constricted into a smaller and smaller ball; it was all she could do to draw a breath. “What were they saying?”
His brow furrowed in concern, but after a moment he continued. “The woman was screaming at him, saying she was … was sick of the delays. That she needed a decision from him. And at last he turned away as if he’d had enough. He told her that he had made his decision, and that he was ending their affair.”
A thread of hope tingled in Joan’s soul, and she looked up. “He was going to end it?”
Hugh nodded somberly. “He told the woman that he couldn’t take the lying any more, and that he was going to go back to you. That when he finished with his current job, he was going to go home and marry his childhood sweetheart.”
Joan’s eyes misted. “He did care for me, in the end.”
Hugh dropped his eyes. “The woman was infuriated by that and gave him a solid push in the chest. ‘Go, then,’ she snapped. I think she just meant to push him away, but somehow his foot must have caught on a rock. Instead of falling back, he spun to the side. The woman cried in panic and reached for him, but it was too late. He went over the edge.”
The table went silent for a long moment. Joan remembered clearly the deep cliffs, the jagged rocks down below.
Hugh’s gaze was far away. “I raced toward the wall, desperately hoping that he was still alive. The woman fled to the south, and that is when I realized it was Cecily. But I had no thought of chasing her at the time. All my focus was on Michael.” He shook his head. “When I got to the wall, though, it was clear that the fall had done him in. His broken body lay on the jagged rocks below. And then the tide dragged him out before I could reach him. I could only watch as he drifted into the dark night.”
Joan shook her head. “Why didn’t Master Martin tell me?”
Hugh ran a hand tenderly along her cheek. “I wrote to Master Martin in a message for his eyes only. At the time I was simply concerned about keeping an agent’s death a secret.” His gaze held hers. “However, I can imagine why he then did not tell you the full details. Michael had been loyal at the end. Why taint your memories of better times with the truth, when nothing could be done about it? In a way, the accident story was true. I don’t think Cecily meant for him to die. If anything, she probably hoped he would change his mind and return to her. She seemed quite distraught over his death.”
Norman leant forward. “Distraught enough to seek revenge?”
Hugh looked up at that, then slowly nodded. “Umberto’s actions on the rooftop did seem gauged to prod Joan into action, rather than me,” he agreed. “I would not have been jealous at all about Michael being with Cecily. There was no reason to go on at length about it for my benefit. He must have known, somehow, that Joan would be near.”
Joan looked over at him. “But why would Cecily have left, if a trap was being set? Surely she would have wanted to be there for my capture?”
Hugh pondered that for a moment. “Perhaps she was not certain of the outcome and wanted to play it safe. This way you could be brought to her if things went well and she would be elsewhere if things went poorly.” His mouth quirked up. “Which they did.”
Joan turned to Linota. “Did you have any sense of where they were going to take you?”
Linota pursed her lips, considering. “I remember something about a mermaid.”
Ymbert raised an eyebrow. “Could be the Drifting Mermaid tavern, out in Ravenscar.”
Hugh nodded in agreement. “It could be, indeed. Kidnapping seems exactly the kind of mischief that establishment’s crew would be into.”
Norman took another drink of his ale. “Lord Weston is eager to lend a hand in this, and Greslet has offered to send along some of his men as well. I think we should take tomorrow to make our plans and then head out as a group the next day. That way, even if the bandits have a larger force waiting for us, we are prepared.”
Joan looked with concern at Hugh. “What if Cecily makes a run for it?”
He shook his head. “If that woman was one thing, she was tenacious. She built her reputation on pursuing her goals like a determined badger.” His eyes held hers with concern. “If she is focused on getting to you, the last thing she would do is leave.”
She smiled at that, leaning against him. “Not to worry,” she assured him. “Together, I am sure we can defeat her.”
*
Joan blinked her eyes awake; the room was pitch dark. Hugh was gently snoring, lying alongside her, his arm resting across her stomach. Only the faintest of starlight gave edges to the low table across the room, to the door which led to the outside stairs.
There was a quiet knock.
Hugh was awake instantly, reaching for the sword at the side of the bed. Joan took up her own, then pulled the blanket to cover her chest.
Hugh stalked, naked, over to the side of the door. “Who’s there?”
Ada’s voice eased through the wood. “I’m sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but it’s Linota. She’s come back from Muriel’s, just as I was heading to bed, and she seems upset. She wants to talk with Joan, alone. Seems it’s about something that happened to her while she was captured.”
Hugh looked over to Joan, his eyes shadowing. “I had wondered if there was more to what she said,” he murmured. “I can imagine she didn’t want to reveal the full details in front of the group.”
Joan nodded, returning her sword to its place. She slid out of bed, quickly pulling on a tunic and slipping on boots. She came up alongside Hugh and gave him a gentle kiss. “I might be a while.”
He tenderly ran a hand down her cheek. “Take all the time you need,” he answered. “Linota is a brave woman. If she needs a friend tonight, she couldn’t ask for better.”
Joan nudged her head, and Hugh glanced down at his bare skin. He m
oved to stand behind the door, and Joan pulled it open just far enough to slip out. Ada stood there waiting. “I’m sorry about this,” she said again.
Joan shook her head. “Linota deserves our support,” she pointed out. “I am more than glad to spend the night talking with her, if that will help her.”
Ada led the way down the stairs. “I lit a candle in the back room,” she explained. “Figured you two could talk in private in there.”
“That was thoughtful of you. Some ale might help as well.”
“Of course. I have two mugs set out and a full pitcher.”
Joan smiled. “You have thought of everything.” She came up to the door and pressed it open. “Linota? How can I be of assistance?”
A lone candle flickered on the round table, sending shadows across a ring of empty chairs.
A solid blow landed on the back of her head, and the world cascaded into black.
Chapter 12
Joan groaned into life. It seemed that she had bruises on her bruises, and the back of her head ached with a throbbing pain. Her world was jarring, thudding, and it took a long moment before she connected the sensations together. She was on horseback. A warm body sat behind her, a thick wood surrounded her, and a bright sun was shining against her half-open eyelids, twisting her headache to epic proportions.
The sequence of events resurfaced in her memory. Confusion swept over her. Who had taken her?
She twisted in the saddle, looking back.
Ada sat there, a relaxed smile on her lips. She reined in to a stop. “About time you woke up,” she commented. “We need to start moving a bit faster if we want to get to Cecily in time.” Behind her, a second horse was trailing along on a rope.
Joan threw herself from the horse, grunting in pain as she landed on her side on the hard-packed dirt. Scrambling, she made her way over to the second horse, sure that at any second Ada would be behind her, pressing a knife to her back.
She reached the saddle, turned, and stopped in surprise.
Ada was exactly where she had been before. She sat quietly on her saddle, one eyebrow cocked, watching Joan with amusement. “Did you enjoy that?”
