"There is a path we will follow." De Reuilles edged off the cliff onto a road that seemed to be cut into the mountain. Well. It was tricky, but he should be able to navigate it. Still, Henri could not see the château from there.
"This leads to the château?"
"What?" Louis-Philippe turned; the body's head lolled against his arm.
"This will not work." Henri walked up to him, reached for Louis-Philippe's burden.
Louis-Philippe backed away, stopping when he hit the side of the cliff. Henri dropped his arms and said, "I was going to help you place him over your shoulder." No response. "He will be easier to carry."
Louis-Philippe lowered his head. His eyes closed. Then he nodded and allowed Henri to reposition the body. As they made their way down the track, Henri ticked off the names of his men, the areas of Reuilles-la-ville he would assign to each. "We will search Reuilles-la-ville next."
"What?" A whisper.
"Reuilles-la-ville," Henri remarked, adding, "It is the most likely place for her to have gone." He stared at the lowering sky. "As soon as we get back..." He paused. They had reached the bottom of the ravine. "Does that look like a landslide to you?" There was a dark slash that flowed down from a ledge high above. "There is just a dusting of snow there, but it covers everything else."
"It has been snowing all night," Louis-Philippe said. "Until just a little while ago."
Henri moved to the place where the snow sat lightly upon dark soil. "Damn!" He peered at the raw gash in the earth. "Someone slid down this tonight!" He pointed to the side. "See? A hand print here. And here." Well. They were getting somewhere now. He started the climb the slope. "We will need several men to conduct the search, and dogs, as well."
Henri stopped to look back at Louis-Philippe climbing up behind him. The man's eyes were closed again! How could he hope to see where he was going? "De Reuilles. I will need your help with this." Henri stood waiting.
A shudder moved through Louis-Philippe's body. His eyes opened and he looked at Henri. "Yes," he said. "I am going to show you another way into the château. I trust you will keep this secret."
"You have my word."
Louis-Philippe continued to stare at him in silence. With anyone else, or were it any other time, Henri might be insulted. Such a stare! But the man's thoughts were clearly far away. Henri watched as animation slowly returned to Louis-Philippe's face.
"There is another door into Reuilles-le-château." Louis-Philippe's arms tightened around the body slung across his shoulder. A spasm shook his limbs. But he continued, as if he had not paused at all. "A back door," he said. Then, "We will find Maríana."
Louis-Philippe straightened his back and climbed ahead. Henri watched him for a moment. But de Reuilles seemed to have returned to himself. His step was sure now. Henri followed him up the slope.
Chapter 26
LEILA AND Iranzu were always ahead. From time to time Iranzu would stop and wait, but he did not allow Richard or Maríana to pause. They had been traveling for hours, and it was snowing again. Richard bent and grabbed a handful of snow, stuffing it in his mouth and feeling his tongue go numb as it melted. It did not satisfy, but it took the edge off his thirst.
Iranzu halted and looked up at the sky. "Good," he said. "It looks like a heavy snow will be falling soon. The snow will cover our tracks."
"They will have dogs," Maríana's voice was faint. "Dogs to find us." She had been dropping behind and was sweating, but when Richard touched her forehead it felt cold. She trembled. He glanced over at Iranzu and saw the old man's concern for Maríana. Good. Perhaps Iranzu would let them rest. That was what she needed.
Iranzu held her hand for several breaths, then sighed. "Then we cannot stop," he said. Maríana nodded and moved forward, plodding through the snow that piled up around them. Damn! Richard plowed behind her.
"Dogs." Iranzu whispered to Richard, "If we could reach the first shelter before the snow gets too bad, perhaps then..." The rest of the old man's words were lost as he increased his pace. He caught Maríana's elbow, propelling her forward.
They continued to climb.
WHEN HE came to the ledge, Richard's foot hung in the air and he lurched forward. The weighty pack strapped to his back slipped to the side and nearly carried him back down the mountain slope they had been climbing. But somehow Leila was there, pulling the pack from his body, helping him over the top to the space that stretched out before him. He stood there, just breathing, surprised by what he saw. The ledge was two hundred paces wide, at least, and another hundred paces deep.
He looked back down the slope they had climbed. Reuilles-le-château was no longer visible. He could not even see the Saracen palace.
He turned again, back to where Irati had continued to climb in a gentler slope to where clouds sat upon the trees. Pine and scrub straggled across the ledge, but at the back where the slope continued, a massive oak tree stood, its trunk the width of seven men. Leila and Iranzu were already there, stretching a blanket across one of the lower branches, making a shelter.
Finally. They would stop there for a time. Richard looked behind him for Maríana. She struggled through the drifts, seeking his footsteps. She had fallen behind again, but was almost there. He waited at the edge and grabbed her arm when she reached the top.
Pulling her to the ledge, he brushed snow and pine needles off her gown, then knelt and dug packed snow from inside the tops of her boots. She held her skirt aside, shivering. "You should take these off when we reach your grandfather and sister," he said. "We can try to dry them before we go on."
His words caught in his throat. Something warm and red dripped on him. He pulled away and held out his hands, saw the ruby stain, looked down at Maríana's feet.
"No!" He heard her cry as she, too saw the crimson pool widening around her.
HENRI PACED the length of the great hall. A page carrying a tray of ale scurried out of his way. Earlier, Henri had thrown two of them aside when they blocked his path. Now he stopped in front of the roaring hearth fire. He felt chilled straight through. The search was not going well.
He strode across the hall toward the door, his eyes on his feet, hands clasped behind his back. The château had fifty men out searching for Maríana. Four of these were his own men from Bauçais and Burgundy, from Paris and Gréves. He halted at the door. Ysabel had not come down to the great hall for any of the meals today. Would she have any idea of where her stepdaughter might be? Henri leaned back on his heels. No. Ysabel was only concerned with her own pleasure, whatever that might be. She would not know where Maríana had gone. Henri released his breath in a sigh, then shook his head as three more servants scrambled away from him, their hands trembling and eyes rimmed with white. Good. If they feared him they would work all the harder. He wheeled around and marched back to the hearth.
When he had arrived at Reuilles-le-château with Louis-Philippe, the Baron had taken the body he carried up to Johanna's chamber, where he remained even now. Henri snorted. De Reuilles was useless. Henri had been forced to organize the search. Fortunately, de Reuilles' men did not balk at orders from Henri. They were worried about Maríana, he could see that.
But Louis-Philippe! A dead gardener was more important to him than his own daughter. Henri had been aware that Maríana's place at the château was secondary to her stepmother, to the child Ysabel carried. But that was as it should be. Maríana was a daughter, not a son.
Still, her father should have some concern for his daughter's whereabouts when she was missing. Henri felt a tug on his arm and raised his eyes in an even glare. Robert shrank from him, stammering. Henri tempered his stare, reached out and patted Robert's shoulder, "I am not angry with you, boy," he said, then, "What news?"
"Guillaume just got back." The boy's voice trembled. "He is in the stables."
Henri had sent most of the men over to Reuilles-la-ville with Guillaume. They were searching the town house-to-house. The rest of the men were outside the walls, covering the forested area down
to the lake and marsh. Henri knew the most likely place to search now was Reuilles-la-ville. Where else could she be? But this took time. it was getting late. He looked up as the door opened and Guillaume walked in, snow dropping from his mantle.
"Well?" Henri barked out. The hollow space inside his chest lurched when he saw Guillaume shake his head. Where now? Henri folded his arms across his waist and stared at the floor. The only place they had not searched was the mountain. So be it.
"Collect all the men." Henri moved toward the stairs. "We will be camping up at the Saracen palace tonight."
They would climb the mountain at dawn. Henri trudged up the stairs. Louis-Philippe must join him in this. De Reuilles knew the territory. He must provide experienced climbers for their search. And dogs. Henri strode along the upper corridor and knocked on Johanna's door.
MARÍANA lay on her back under the shelter of the blanket Iranzu and Leila had stretched across the oak branch. Richard held her head in his lap. He wiped her forehead with a damp cloth as she gritted her teeth, her body stiffening with each wave that rippled through her belly. From time to time she whimpered, "It is too soon, too soon," and then her body would become rigid and she would turn her face against his belly to muffle her screams. Every whimper, every groan she uttered stabbed him, from his stomach out to his limbs. And yet he was glad.
This gladness tore him into pieces. How he could be happy when she was in such pain? When new life would not be born? But he was glad she would not have Henri de Bauçais's child, glad this baby would die. The cloth he used to bathe her forehead and face was growing hot. He dipped it in the snow, then caressed her fevered skin.
Leila knelt at Maríana's feet. She had lifted her sister's skirts and was examining her. Richard watched as Leila's hands ran over the expanse of Maríana's belly, then moved between her legs and even up inside to check the expulsion of her baby. He could not bear to watch and averted his eyes. He had assisted foals into the world and knew what Leila did, but seeing it brought a giddy shiver. This was Maríana he cradled in his arms, not a horse. He focused on her face to still the grinding contraction of his belly. Her eyes were shut tight and tears squeezed out the corners in a continued leak.
The rustle of cloth brought his head up. Leila stood now, gazing down upon her sister, her eyes soft. He cleared his throat and she looked at him, then shook her head slowly as she wiped her hands. Dropping to her knees again, Leila crawled under the shelter of the blanket, coming to rest next to where Richard held Maríana's head. "It will not be long now. You are not very far along in carrying this little one, so it will be coming out soon." She paused as Maríana opened her eyes and stared up at her sister in a silent plea.
"I will not lie to you." Leila's voice was firm, yet her face sorrowed. "It is too late, but you have done nothing to cause this. It was placed too low in your womb." She stopped again as Maríana closed her eyes and more tears leaked out, wetting Richard's hands. "I have seen this before, sister. I have delivered many babies, many. Some living, some not. It is the way of things." Her voice trailed off. Richard could feel the shift in Maríana's body, saw the set of her jaw as she gathered herself together. "Do you want to see it when it comes?" Leila asked softly. Maríana shuddered, then nodded. "I am glad," Leila gave Maríana's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It is better to say good-bye."
Maríana opened her mouth to speak, but a wave surged through her belly and she arched her back against it, then a keening wail poured out of her, its echo crying back to them from the sides of the mountain.
"Silence her!" Leila returned to her position at her sister's feet while Richard grabbed Maríana's head and held her mouth against his stomach.
"Grandfather," Leila said shortly, placing her hands between Maríana's legs, "I will need the water and cloths now."
Iranzu came to her with melted snow he had heated over the fire they had taken the risk of making, and several torn pieces of a surcoat he had arranged in the sort of breechcloth women use during their bleeding moons. "And the mosses and yarrow from my pack," she added as Maríana convulsed, her legs whipping out and back curling.
Richard continued to hold Maríana in his arms. He leaned toward her and whispered, "You are doing well, it will be over soon."
Maríana drew her legs up and held her breath. Then a tremor rippled through her and she started to cry in gulping sobs. Leila swiftly drew her hands out from Maríana's skirts and gently cleaned what they held with one of the cloths Iranzu had brought her. Leila was holding something in the palm of her hand, something small. She blinked her eyes furiously. "A girl." Then she turned to Maríana, who was sobbing into Richard's belly. "Maríana," she said. "Sister, are you ready to see?"
Maríana drew in her breath and shuddered again, then nodded and turned her face to Leila. Richard closed his eyes. He could not look.
"She is blue," Maríana said. Her voice had deepened and was hoarse from screaming. Blood was everywhere. But all he wanted to do was draw her into his embrace, take care of her.
"She had already died within your womb, Sister," Leila told her. "Perhaps as long ago as two or three days."
Silence. Richard opened his eyes cautiously. Leila still knelt at his side, but she had covered the tiny form she held in her hands. She looked at Maríana. He almost thought they were talking, but he could only hear the hushed whisper of snowfall outside their shelter.
Leila nodded. "I will bury her so that no animal will dig her up," she said. "But first I need to stop your bleeding." She went around to Maríana's feet again, handing the tiny form to Iranzu, who wound a cloth around it.
"Am I bleeding a lot?" Maríana asked. She shifted, drew her arms up, pushed against him.
"No. But it is best that we pack you right away so we can continue." Leila bore down hard on Maríana's womb and held her hand between her sister's legs again for a moment. Maríana's breath rattled in her throat, then something else slithered into Leila's hands. "There. That should do it." Leila turned away, handing a glistening red lump to Iranzu. "Bury this with the baby."
Maríana drew her legs up further and leaned forward, pulling away from his arms. He released her and watched as she rose to her knees under the sheltering blanket. There she swayed for a moment, her arms held out for balance, then she reached down and tugged her gown free of her knees, pulling it up and over her head.
"What are you doing?" Leila fell back as Maríana pushed out at her, flinging her gown into the snow, staggering to her feet outside the shelter. Now Maríana pulled at her nightgown, shredding the gossamer silk in her haste to remove it. Her feet were bare -- they had set her boots next to the fire-and she sank into the snow up to her ankles, stumbling away from Leila's reaching hands.
He jumped to his feet, grazing his forehead against the underside of the oak branch that held their blanket. Leila stood in his way, staring at her sister, her mouth hanging open. Maríana was shrugging the torn nightgown over her head, down along her arms, casting it into the snow on top of her woolen gown. He picked Leila up by her arms and set her aside, ignoring her sputtered protest. But he stopped when Maríana turned.
She stood naked, an ivory statue in the midst of snowflakes and darkening sky. Her gaze passed over Leila, Iranzu, the oak tree, the shelter, coming to rest upon Richard. When her stare fell upon him, he shuddered. Her eyes were icy, remote. And yet he felt the sharp pressure of her glance as keenly as the edge of a sword against his skin. Leila moved toward her sister. She held the cloak Maríana had rested upon in her hands and was shaking the snow from it with a practiced snap of her wrists. The hot metal smell of blood rose from its folds.
Maríana remained where she stood, pinning Richard beneath her haunted gaze while Leila approached her, spreading the mantle with her hands. "Put this on until we can get fresh clothes for you from our packs." Leila's voice was quiet, but it cut through the stillness of falling snow.
Maríana still did not move. Her eyes darted to her sister. Leila wavered, then stopped in her tracks. "You s
aid I was not bleeding very much," Maríana said.
Leila drew the mantle against her chest and stepped back. "Yes, but..."
Maríana looked away from her and Leila stumbled. As if she had been released. "Well, I have a use for it, this blood," Maríana said, then extended her hand to Iranzu. "My knife."
Iranzu said nothing. He bent over the jumble of Maríana's clothes and drew a kitchen knife from under the old woolen gown Maríana had taken from the tower. Holding it aloft, he brought it to Leila. "Leila must consecrate it," Maríana said, inclining her head toward her sister.
Leila stared at Maríana, her face ashen. "Are you mad? You will freeze!" She stuck out her jaw and glared at her sister. "I need to pack yarrow against your womb or you will bleed away your strength."
Iranzu placed a hand upon Leila's shoulder, murmuring in her ear. The mantle dropped from her hands and she took the knife from him, her face frozen in a snarl.
"Very well." She stalked over to the fire.
Richard wanted to retrieve the woolen cloak, drag it from the ground and throw it over Maríana's body. But his limbs would not obey him. This was not his Maríana, this alabaster image that held him in its thrall, the face bleak, the eyes frost.
Leila was chanting. He caught the frenetic motion of her arms at the periphery of his vision and tore his eyes from Maríana's stare. But his arms dangled at his side. He still could not move.
"Air! Cure it!" Leila shouted, rotating the knife to cut a circle in the air. She fell to her knees and thrust the blade into the fading blaze of their dying fire. "Fire! Seal it!" Now she dug through the snow to bare ground, her other hand slammed the knife into the soil up to its hilt. "Earth! Bind it!" Both hands wrenched the blade from the earth, held it now in the water still steaming in the pot on the fire. "Water! Bring it home!"
Leila raised the knife again, holding it away from her body, striding toward Maríana. When she reached her sister, she turned the knife and handed the hilt to Maríana.
Door in the Sky Page 30
