Starless

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “But what?”

  Kevin shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I feel a sense of uneasiness that I cannot seem to shake.”

  Morgan came to stand beside him, his attention on Aysgarth, lit up with fire against the night sky. “What is it?” he asked. “The men we sent out came back to tell us everything seemed quiet.”

  “But not all of them are back yet.”

  “That is true, but those who have returned have told us there is nothing amiss that they can see.”

  Kevin knew that. But he still shook his head. “No one has been inside the fortress,” he said. “So much could be happening in there that we would not even know of.”

  “And you believe that is the case?”

  Kevin could only shrug. “I never thought it was a good idea for d’Avignon to go to Aysgarth, especially if he believes it is a staging ground for an attack against Richmond. Who knows what is going on in Coverdale’s mind?”

  “We have until morning to find out.”

  Kevin sighed faintly. “Then it is going to be a long night.”

  That was the truth.

  Lodged in the woods directly across the river from Aysgarth, they were mostly clustered near the shallowest part of the river, an easy crossing to the other side through the icy waters. They’d been watching the road in and out of the castle, plus the roads in and out of the village that surrounded the castle. They were even watching the training grounds where the mercenaries were settled down for the night. What Morgan said was true – it had been very quiet.

  But Kevin wasn’t willing to let his guard down.

  Something felt off.

  The evening progressed. The sounds of night were all around them, the night birds singing and the chirping of various bugs. Kevin could hear his men slapping at themselves as the night wore on, slapping at the bugs who wanted a taste of their flesh. He, too, had been forced to slap away a bug or two. But the entire time, his focus was on the castle in the distance, as if waiting for something to happen.

  It was a fragile and permeable silence.

  The night deepened. It was very late now and some of the soldiers were sleeping in the darkness. Kevin could hear them snoring, but he wouldn’t join them. He wasn’t tired. He kept his gaze on the fortress as if expecting something to happen at any moment.

  Then, he saw movement in the darkness.

  Ducking down behind the foliage, he watched someone dash from a copse of trees near the fortress and across the road into a heavy growth of forest. As he continued to watch, that same figure plunged into the river, wading through in a section that was hidden from the view of the castle. Kevin realized that it was one of his men and both he and Morgan went to intercept him.

  It was a young soldier, skinny and freezing from his dip in the water, but skilled enough not to be seen. Kevin and Morgan heaved the lad out of the river and pulled him into the trees.

  “Well?” Kevin hissed. “Where have you been?”

  The young man’s teeth were chattering. “There’s a postern gate on the north side of the castle, by the kitchens,” he said. “I was watching the gate.”

  “And?”

  “And a maid came through because there’s a brook where they do their washing, outside of the castle,” he said, turning to point north. “You cannot see it from here, but it’s there. She came to wash and I spoke with her.”

  Kevin was confused. “This late at night she came out to wash?”

  The young man shook his head. “She came out at sunset,” he said. “She wanted to know what I was doing and I told her I was a shepherd looking for a lost sheep. I think she believed me because she didn’t run. We became friendly and I asked her about Baron Coverdale.”

  Kevin grunted. “God,” he said. “You didn’t, did you? If she tells anyone that a shepherd has been asking about Coverdale, they might get suspicious.”

  But the young man shook his head again. “I do not believe so, my lord,” he said. “She didn’t seem suspicious of me at all. I told her I’d never been inside such a great castle and she told me all about it, including a few interesting things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Coverdale has a visitor he’s entertaining and there was to be a great feast tonight.”

  “She meant d’Avignon?”

  “Surprisingly, no. She told me that it is Witton de Meynell.”

  Kevin’s eyes widened. “De Meynell is inside the castle?”

  “That was what she told me, my lord.”

  Kevin looked at Morgan. “That is what I meant by an uneasy feeling,” he growled. “The very man who has been plotting against d’Avignon is in there, waiting for him. Damnation, he walked right into it.”

  He was agitated now and for good reason. Even Morgan’s features were stiff with concern. He looked over to the castle in the distance.

  “Caius said if he does not emerge by dawn, then we must assume something is wrong,” he muttered. “If de Meynell is in there…”

  “Then d’Avignon may not emerge at all.”

  Morgan nodded in resignation. He was thinking that he should have listened to Kevin’s gut.

  “What do you want to do, Kevin?” he asked.

  Kevin looked at the fortress in the darkness. “I want to get in there,” he said. “The guards on the wall will be there all night, but they should change shifts before dawn.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s my intention to make it onto those walls at that time.” Kevin returned his attention to Morgan. “You know your men better than I do. Select fifty of them to go with me, fifty of your best. Our objective will be to get to the gatehouse and ensure the gate is open for the bulk of the army to come through. I would suggest you and this fine young soldier go back to the postern gate and enter from that access point once I reach the top of the walls.”

  Morgan agreed with the formulated plan. “It shall be done,” he said. “But what if the situation is normal? How do we explain breaching the walls and the gatehouse?”

  Kevin lifted his big shoulders. “I am following d’Avignon’s orders,” he said. “Let him explain why we breached the fortress. But I would rather do it and be wrong than not do it and wish I had.”

  That was the truth, for all of them. With that, they took the wet and freezing soldier back to the bulk of the army, gave him something to eat, and spread the word among the men that soon enough, they would be moving out. Their great lord was in need of them and the men were eager to help.

  When the first hints of pink began to appear on the eastern horizon, they were ready.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Coverdale, wake up.”

  A voice in the darkness shook Samuel. At first, he thought he was dreaming. But when someone reached out and shook him, he startled himself awake and sat up, throwing himself away from the body in his chamber. As he struggled to become coherent, a weak light in the darkness showed the face of Caius d’Avignon.

  Samuel hissed with relief when he realized who it was.

  “Bloody Christ,” he breathed. “What in the hell do you want, d’Avignon? You nearly scared me to death.”

  The hour was late in Samuel’s sparse bower, a vast chamber with a bed, a table, and little else. Everything else had been sold or traded to fund his gambling habit, so there was very little left in the chamber, and the entire apartment block, that Samuel hadn’t already done away with.

  But Caius didn’t care about a smelly bower with a bed that was in disrepair. As Samuel cowered against the wall, wiping his hands over his face, Caius loomed over him.

  “I have just spent the past half-hour dodging de Meynell’s men to get to you,” he growled. “You and I must speak, Coverdale. We have a situation on our hands.”

  Samuel’s hand immediately went to the wound on his shoulder. It was a deep wound but the surgeon said nothing vital had been clipped. Still, it was very painful, making Samuel willing to listen. D’Avignon was right – they had something terrible on their hands
and Samuel was integrally involved in it.

  They all were.

  “Aye,” he said after a moment. “We certainly do.”

  “Do you want to live?”

  “Of course I want to live.”

  “You heard de Meynell tonight at the feast,” he said. “You heard him speak to his men about the coming battle between Achilles and Susanna and how to make it more interesting. My God, the man wants to turn it into something greatly entertaining.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you also know that we must have a plan of attack come the dawn, because I will not see your sister and Achilles battle to the death. I assume you do not wish to see that, either.”

  Samuel sighed heavily. “Of course not,” he said. “But if she resists, I become a target for de Meynell’s blade.”

  “If you do not do something to help your sister, you will not live to see your next day of birth because if de Meynell does not kill you, I will. Is that plain enough?”

  Samuel didn’t like being threatened, even if d’Avignon was justified to a certain extent. “What do you want from me?” he demanded. “What can I do?”

  Caius set down the taper he was holding. Reaching around to his back, he appeared to be fumbling with the backside of his breeches. Suddenly, there was a blade glittering in the weak light of the chamber as he extended it to Samuel.

  It was a dagger.

  Samuel’s eyes widened.

  “A weapon?” he hissed in shock. “But I saw them strip you. Where did you get this?”

  “It does not matter,” Caius said. “Just don’t smell it.”

  Because he’d told the man not to smell it, Samuel immediately lifted it to his nostrils. It must have smelled atrociously, because he quickly held it away from his face.

  “God,” he groaned. “It smells like…”

  “I know.”

  “Are you telling me that you just pulled a dagger out of your arse?”

  “I told you not to smell it.”

  Samuel looked at the dagger with a good deal of distaste, finding the entire idea of hiding a dagger in one’s arse crack wholly distasteful but, in the same breath, it was ingenious. No wonder de Meynell’s men hadn’t found it. He set it down on the bed beside him, wiping it off with his linens so he wouldn’t have a man’s arse-smell on his hands.

  “Why are you giving it to me?” he asked.

  “Because you are going to use it.”

  Samuel stopped wiping, looking at him in shock. “I am?”

  Caius rested his enormous hands on his hips. “On de Meynell,” he said. “You have become his whipping post, Coverdale. The barons of Coverdale had a reputation for strength and fairness until you came around. Now, all anyone knows of Baron Coverdale is that he sets a fine table and taxes his people heavily. Does it not even concern you that your sister will be fighting for her very life come the morrow?”

  Samuel found that he couldn’t look Caius in the eye. “Of course it concerns me.”

  “And yet, you have no plan to help her? You are sleeping the night away even though your sister may face her death on the morrow? What a pathetic excuse for a brother you are.”

  Samuel couldn’t very well dispute him. “More than you know, d’Avignon,” he muttered. “More than you know.”

  “Then do something about it,” Caius hissed. “If I could use that dagger on de Meynell tomorrow, I would, but they will be watching me. I will be heavily guarded. You, however, will not be.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You were not watched today, were you? No one was looking at you because they know you’re a weakling. Therefore, you are the logical choice to sink that dagger into de Meynell’s chest. If you do not, he will sink his into yours. Is that what you want?”

  Samuel sighed again, thinking on his sister and on the situation in general, wondering where he had gone so wrong. Over the years, he’d sunk into gambling debt and depression, and now he found himself living in his ancestral home when it no longer belonged to him.

  He’d done that.

  And Susanna… strong, noble Susanna… was locked in the vault, arrested by de Meynell for spying. She’d spared her brother an arrest by not revealing he was the one who had given her the information about Richmond. He was free because of her.

  And how had he repaid her for that?

  He hadn’t.

  Samuel couldn’t even remember when he became such a worthless wretch of a man. It was as if he woke up one morning and suddenly lost every bit of character he’d ever possessed. He’d known that for a while now, but it was never so obvious as it was now. He’d grown lazy and complacent about it, but if he didn’t do something soon, his sister was going to pay the price.

  They were all going to pay the price.

  “Very well,” he said, eyeing the smelly dagger. “I will do what I can.”

  A big hand shot out, grabbing the front of his tunic, and Samuel found himself looking into angry black eyes.

  “Listen to me and listen well,” Caius said. “Whatever fear you have, put it aside. Whatever reluctance you feel, kill it. Too many lives depend on you, Coverdale. You will not simply do what you can – you will do all you can and do it with the bravery your sister has shown before a man who wants to execute her for being a spy, because I swear before our Lord that if you do not, I will end you. If de Meynell does not kill you, I will.”

  Samuel knew simply by looking into his eyes that he was serious. Everything screamed sincerity. Samuel should have felt anger at the very least but all he could manage to feel was submission. He knew that Caius was trying to save Susanna; he was trying to save them all. But now the man had put that determination into Samuel’s hands and he wasn’t entirely sure he could carry it out.

  But he had little choice.

  “I will not fail,” he said hoarsely.

  Caius immediately released him. “See that you do not. Coverdale… I want to be proud of you. I want to say that I saw you do something courageous. Do not disappoint me.”

  With that, he turned and left the chamber, leaving his burning taper behind and his smelly dagger. But even after he was gone, Samuel could feel the man’s lingering presence. Caius had a way about him that filled a room and then some.

  The Britannia Viper was all that and more.

  Samuel turned to look at the dagger once more, knowing he had to dig deep to find that Blackchurch knight he’d lost somewhere along the way.

  He hoped that knight wasn’t gone for good.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They ended up in two different cells.

  De Meynell’s guards had placed Susanna back in her cell, managing to attach one of her shackles to her left ankle, but they were unable to secure the other three limbs and left her as she was. They didn’t even try to restrain Achilles or Alexander because it was all they could do to get the men into the cell and slam the door. Even then, Achilles managed to grab one of them through the bars and choke the man until he was rendered unconscious. The only reason Achilles let him go was because someone had used a dagger and stabbed him in his left forearm. The shock of it had caused Achilles to loosen his grip just enough so they were able to get their man out.

  It had been a chaotic and bloody battle down to the last moment.

  But that had been hours ago. When the fight was finished and the de Meynell soldiers fled, Susanna, Achilles, and Alexander were plunged into darkness. A few words were spoken between them, mostly to make sure everyone was uninjured, and then silence as the reality of it settled.

  It was the shock of what was to come.

  Susanna felt guilt. So incredibly guilty. She felt as if all of this were her fault and her doing. Had it not been for her, none of this would have happened. Achilles and Alexander would be safe somewhere. Or, perhaps not – she always knew they would return for her, so it wasn’t as if she could have prevented it.

  Still…

  So, she’d sat in silence, wallowing in guilt that was consuming her. She wa
sn’t even afraid about fighting Achilles. It was simply the guilt that they were all in this predicament, together. The remorse was almost more than she could bear.

  “Sparks?”

  It was Achilles voice in the darkness. Susanna had been sitting up against the wall, dozing, and her eyes slowly opened to the pitch blackness around her.

  “Aye?”

  “Are you disappointed with me?”

  “For what?”

  She heard him sigh. “For not getting you out of Aysgarth when I had the chance.”

  She lifted her head to look at him even though she couldn’t see him. “You never had the chance,” she said. “There was never a chance, Achilles. That’s the saddest part of all. I was just thinking on the fact that I got you both into this mess and I am sorry for it.”

  She could hear him shifting around in the next cell. “We have been in worse, haven’t we, Sherry?”

  Alexander, who had clearly been dozing, grunted sleepily. “Much.”

  “This is not the first time I’ve been in a vault, isolated away from the world,” Achilles continued. “When I was with Maxton and Kress in the vault at Les Baux-de-Provence, it was full of men. Men who had been there for years, dying men, men who cried day and night… it was a very noisy place.”

  He didn’t sound upset or frightened. He didn’t even sound angry. He sounded as if this was just one more adventure in a long line of them but, to Susanna, that wasn’t the case. She took this very seriously.

  “I have never been in a vault,” she said. “I have spent the last ten years in the wilds of Norfolk, shadowing a fiery young woman. Life was easy and it was kind. There was not one time, in all of those years, that I even had to draw a sword in defense of Cadelyn.”

  “But you trained, did you not?” Achilles asked.

  “Aye,” she replied. “I trained with the knights constantly, with the garrison commander. Before I was assigned to Cadelyn, I was assigned to the House of de Russe, at their townhome of Braidwood in London. I saw a good deal of action there, in fact. The House of de Russe is a warring house.”