The prisoners shuffled to a halt before the dais, and Louis smiled at her as he spoke to them. "This is your lady, in whom my uncle is well pleased. She had given you unto us, as she was meant to do from the beginning."
A burly yeoman hurled himself at Louis. "Smug, blaspheming, unnatural monster!" The chain about his neck abruptly tightened and, choking, he was dragged to the stone floor. His hands, bound behind his back, twitched as his breath was cut off. Louis placed his booted foot on the man's neck. "And this is the end that will befall those discontented with our succession." Abruptly, he shifted his weight and the neck beneath it snapped. Liliane could not hide her horror, which Louis instantly noticed. "Weak-stomached, milady, or entertaining second thoughts? Our uncle relies on you, after all."
"Have your fun, Louis," she said coldly. "Your amusements were ever cheap."
"Certainly, your favors have never been to my taste," he retorted. "I have merely bedded you to please my uncle."
As a choked gasp went up from the retainers, Liliane came to her feet, her face white with fury. "Liar! I would sooner befoul myself with some loathsome toad!"
"Fie, Cousin," purred Louis, "to pretend virtue when all present know you have it not." He mounted the dais and stuck his face out to nearly touch hers. "Love me, Cousin, or"—he turned to gesture flippantly at the dead body On the floor—"leave me."
"I will leave you, Louis," she hissed. "Take my chair; you will be a dwarf in it!" With calculated daring, she thrust him aside and left the dais.
His hand went to his sword and trembled there; then it slowly relaxed as she passed between the ranks of guards. She was his prisoner; when Jacques arrived, Louis had no doubt of her fate. She would be his, like a butterfly given to a spider.
* * *
Alexandre sensed that something was wrong. He had made an open show on Jacques's border now for four days and nothing had happened. He had left the castle to Liliane as proof to her of his faith and trust. If Jacques intended to strike at him, he would have done so by now. He might instead strike at the castle; better to return there to protect it than parade aimlessly in the north. Before he left, he took the precaution of leaving more lookouts along his border. Trouble had to come; he smelled it with all the sensitivity of a wolf trained to cheat death.
But he did not smell it at Castle de Brueil until too late. The castle looked the same as always, its peaceful gray walls russet-capped in the late afternoon sun. Autumn leaves swept across the meadows like dancing minstrels; the bare trees were gray spikes against the blue-green pines. He loved no other right on earth as he did that of his lands . . . with Liliane's hair floating on its sea winds.
The helmed castellans greeted him as usual with a brief lift of their weapons as he rode across the lowered drawbridge. Dismounting in the courtyard, he gave his reins to his squire and headed for the hall. Except for the men on the wall, the castle was nearly deserted; everyone would be at dinner.
Just past the great doors, he halted, peering through the ruddy, slanting light with startled apprehension. The hall was empty except for a lone figure sitting in his chair at the far end. Even at a distance, he knew that figure was not Liliane. In another few steps, he saw that it was Louis. He whirled to guard his back, only to feel a smashing blow against his head. Blackness dropped about him like a cloak; the last thing he heard was Louis's grunt of laughter.
Alexandre awoke to the sting of smoke in his nostrils and a sawing ache at his wrists. Sensing that he might be wise not to awaken too quickly, he peered dazedly through his eyelashes. The dungeon torture chamber, unused since his father's death, came slowly into focus. The hideous torments he had seen there as a child had made me sealing of the room the first command of his regency as count. He might have guessed Louis's first act would be to reinstate torture.
A chill of apprehension trembled along his spine. Louis would pick him apart like a fly on a needle. What had he done to Liliane? He hated her and enjoyed only whores, but to rape her out of sheer spite would be well within his ken. She might be already dead. Alexandre knew that a quick death would be her more merciful fate.
Dread settled upon him. He had heard tales of Louis among the serfs of the countryside; those near Castle de Signe lived in constant panic. Louis was a killer as cold as a shark. No conscience troubled him, no enjoyment of sadism for its own sake. Louis killed and maimed for one reason: to create terror and thereby increase the family power. For all purposes, Jacques ruled the family, but Louis was his shadow, and even Jacques knew that shadow would one day attempt to overwhelm him.
Such a lethal danger could intimidate men much more clever and often more powerful. Linked with Jacques, Louis was dangerous. Alexandre had no doubt that Louis would one day bring Jacques down if Jacques did not destroy him first. Without Jacques, Louis's day of absolute power would be short, but the dead he left behind would not be upon the earth to celebrate his fall.
Abruptly, a vicious jab at his sore shoulder caused his eyes to snap open. Louis's dark, stubbled face was two inches away. "Couldn't let you nap the day away, milord, and delay the entertainment." He smiled without humor. "Which would you first prefer: the heated pincers at your genitals or at your tongue? Shall I have an ear, an eye? Tell me, milord. Now that I am your host and you my guest, I would render you all hospitality.''
"Where is Liliane?" demanded Alexandre. "What have you done with her?"
Louis's heavy brows lifted. ' 'Why, nothing. I confess to being preoccupied with you. Shall I call her?"
"Let her go, Louis. She will do you no harm in Spain. Take this demesne, but set her and the retainers free." He knew his pleas were pointless, but he had to try. "Philip will demand an accounting if you kill both of us and seize the retainers, as well. Use a little discretion.''
Louis pretended to mull the suggestion over. "So you think I should kill you and call your death an accident . . . taking care, of course, to reduce you to such screaming, tiny pieces that even the fish could not recognize you as human, far less Count Alexandre de Brueil. With you having 'drowned at sea,' I might send your lady to Spain, after having her deliver her child at Castle de Signe. Brought up by Signes, your heir might prove excellent assurance of her silence." He watched Alexandre's face tighten in cold rage. "Then again, cutting the child from her now would be so much simpler; two at one blow, so to speak. Witnesses and stray claimants are such a nuisance. With all of you silenced, my uncle might tell King Philip anything he liked." Alexandre surged against the chains, his face filled with murder. Involuntarily, Louis backed away, then caught himself. He waved sharply to the guard. "Bring the Lady Liliane." When Alexandre swore at him, Louis kicked him in the stomach.
* * *
"You are wanted in the torture room, milady," the guard said shortly. Liliane knew from his face that Louis had either captured Charles or Alexandre. With her hands stiff at her sides, she left the tower chamber and followed the guard. Her only chance now, Alexandre's only chance, was for her to make Louis believe she had collaborated with Jacques . . . only she was afraid he did not much care. He wanted her and Alexandre dead, and tonight nothing would stop him from having his wish.
The small torture chamber held none of the elaborate contrivances Liliane had seen in Spain, so successful at converting the unwilling to Christianity by bringing them to the point of last rites. This chamber had the basic brazier, whips, pincers and rack, any one of them capable of reducing a human being to a mess of flesh, mangled and inhuman.
Through the glow from the brazier's scarlet coals wavered the silhouette of a prisoner on the far side of the chamber. Liliane's heart lurched painfully as she recognized Alexandre hanging from iron rings imbedded in the stone pillars. A trickle of blood had seeped from his hairline and dried on his face, and he was breathing raggedly, but his eyes were alert, and he seemed unhurt.
At the look in his eyes when he saw her, she almost started forward, but she caught herself. Louis was watching her; any sign of sympathy would immediately seal Alexandr
e's fate. She nodded casually to Louis, then to Alexandre. "Good evening, gentlemen. Goodness, Louis, you are conscientious. How did you catch him?"
"He walked unsuspectingly into my net," drawled Louis.
"Apparently the possibility of your betrayal never occurred to him."
"Why should it?" She strolled over to Alexandre and peered at him with cold, clinical detachment. "For nearly two years I played the adoring wife." She trailed a finger down Alexandre's chest. "I was rather good, was I not, darling? You believed my every lying word."
She had hoped that Alexandre would take the cue and play her game, but his reaction was more extreme than she had hoped. His blue eyes narrowed. "You gulled me all along ... for this! Just so you could sell me out to Jacques de Signe? I do not believe it!"
"Believe it, darling," she replied sardonically. "Did you suppose that I could live here in a provincial backwater"—her hand contemptuously swept upward—"with the amenities of a privy? Did you think I would let you run through my fortune to build this rockpile to a mean semblance of respectability?"
""I ... we thought to make Castle de Brueil a home! You carry my child ..."
"Most inconveniently," she snapped, as if her patience had run out. She turned to her cousin. "Louis, I am growing tired of slack-witted men. Kill my husband and you destroy our only protection from Philip's revenge. A live hostage is better than a dead provocation. Alexandre will last longer in the larder if he is undamaged."
"So you think I ought to treat your erstwhile lover with kid gloves." Louis slowly shook his head. "Naturally, you expect to be better treated yet." He shook his head again. "My apologies, Cousin. Suppose, while you watch me pry a bit of the truth from your lord, you add details to his account. So much better to answer freely than take your turn with me after he is dead."
"Do not be a fool, Louis!" she said with harsh desperation. "Jacques will not want this!"
"My uncle is regrettably absent," purred Louis. He picked up the pincers. "I think I'll have an eye first: one of those fine blue eyes the court bitches so admire."
The pincers moved toward Alexandre's face and Liliane tensed to launch herself at Louis's arm. The guard would be at her instantly, but if she could force Louis to wheel off balance, she might use him and the pincers as weapons against the guard.
Then, just as she started to uncoil, a voice drawled from the shadows near the door, "Wait a little, Nephew. Your lovely cousin has a point. Why throw away a bargaining tool?"
Louis whirled. "Uncle! When did you arrive?"
"A little while ago," Jacques said vaguely. He moved forward, his vast bulk as awkward as a sea cow on land. He peered up at Alexandre's taut face. "Dear me, so resentful." Then he glanced at Liliane. "Good evening, my dear. Louis giving you trouble?"
She forced an indifferent smile. "My cousin is, as always, overeager."
"Yes ..." he sighed, "but then you must realize that your husband has long been Louis's particular irritation. One cannot blame him for his urge to scratch."
"Uncle, listen," Louis urged. "This bitch has been lying to you all along. Fremier was right about her laying a trap. The first tunnel was filled with waiting yeomen armed to the teeth. The seneschal came to relieve them from the copse."
Jacques looked about for a chair. "Is this true, my dear?"
So Fremier was a spy, Liliane reflected bitterly. Just how long had the cleric been at his dirty business? "Charles, the seneschal, discovered my plans," Liliane lied coolly, then upon inspiration she added, "I sent Fremier with a coded change. Did he not give it to you?"
"You found out Fremier?" snapped Louis. "I would sooner believe a swan kissing crocodiles."
"Or a greedy tallymonger," murmured Jacques. "My, my, to think that Fremier claimed all the credit for our ease of entry into Castle de Brueil." He winked at Louis. "You must be stern with him. Perhaps his punishment may divert you from damaging our prisoner too greatly."
"Uncle," Liliane intervened, "if I might make a request. I should like custody of my husband." She ignored Louis's derisive snort. "I have a bone to pick with Alexandre: a private matter. You may be better aware than my cousin, Uncle, that a woman is best able to torment a man. We need Brueil's living body to bargain with Philip"—she smiled evilly at Alexandre— "but we do not need his living mind. Let him be chained in my chamber for a time; you will never need fear him again."
Louis started to protest vehemently, but Jacques cut him off. "Humor the girl, Nephew. She has done us a great service. By the time Philip discovers what has happened, the tale will be thick with rumor. We have time enough to suit Milord Alexandre's account to our needs. We shall call a council of lords in Arles, where he shall testify that the maintenance of this demesne was beyond even his wife's dowry, which he had overestimated upon their marriage." He stroked his jaw as he gazed at Alexandre's defiant face. "At that time, milord will affirm the peaceful transfer of his fief to us and propose an annulment. If he is clever and holds his tongue thereafter, he will stay alive long enough for Philip to possibly grant him a more hospitable fief in the north." He peaked his hands over his porcine belly and sighed; Alexandre's hot blue eyes said that the moment of his acquiescence would be long in coming.
"Run along, Liliane. Take your hothead and do what you like with him. If you cannot persuade him to be sensible, Louis most assuredly can." He signaled the guard to bring leg irons. "You are likely to have your turn, Nephew; be patient."
"Thank you, Uncle," Liliane said quickly as Alexandre was reshackled. "You will not regret your confidence in me."
"Ah, the eagerness of women to turn men into blithering idiots," Jacques murmured as she left, leading the guard with Alexandre. At his signal, two pikemen fell in behind them at the door.
As soon as the door closed, Louis gave vent to his anger. "What the hell are you doing? She is obviously as two-faced as Janus! She tried to ambush us, and now she's out to save Brueil's skin, just as she did in Palestine.''
"Dear me, really?" Jacques drawled. "I do not recall seeing Liliane in Palestine and she is a difficult woman to hide."
"I had several conversations with fat Xenobia, the owner of the Gilded Leopard. Brueil once had occasion to visit the place in the company of a stunning blonde, whom no one saw before or after that night. I think Flanchard found out that something odd was going on, and Brueil killed him for it. That something probably had to do with either the blonde or that Arab friend of his who kept getting in our way. Why would Alexandre, of all men, choose an Arab for a friend?"
"Alexandre has never been predictable; that is why he has remained alive."
"Well, the Arab had a generous hand in keeping him alive in Acre. You admitted that Liliane forced you into moving on Castle de Brueil by telling you Philip knew of my betraying the raiders to Saladin. How did she know? Alexandre might have guessed, but he couldn't be sure without learning it from the Saracens. Who would be better able to go among them than one of their own—that damned Jefar el din? Jefar el din, who slept in the tent next to Brueil's and seemed to guess our every move. Do you know what I'm beginning to think?"
"That Jefar and Liliane are one and the same," Jacques replied dryly. "A bit far-fetched, don't you mink?"
"Perhaps, but you have to agree it's possible. How can you trust her with him?"
"I trust her with him because he will keep her occupied. I want to keep her happy, Louis. I have a use for Liliane; when she has filled that use, you may have her. You may also kill Alexandre."
Louis's face cleared. "You never believed her; you just want to dangle her in front of Philip as a sop and distraction." His lips curved in a rare, genuine smile. "I grant you, Uncle, I underestimated you."
Jacques eyed him smugly. "You always do."
* * *
"That wall." Liliane indicated the wall opposite the bed in the bedchamber, and the guard obligingly planed Alexandre up. After the guard had been dismissed, Alexandre tested the strength of the hook above his head where his shackles had been fast
ened; the hook was secure.
"Release me, Liliane," he demanded curtly. When she did not move, his voice grew even harder. "It seems that Fremier had a hand in this, too. I would like to strangle him now, but I will not strangle you . . . just yet."
"That leaves numerous other ways of dispatching me," she observed quietly. "Just now, you appear to be contemplating them in turn."
"You are carrying my child; until he is born, you are safe . . . from me, at least. Jacques and Louis are going to dine on you."
Liliane watched him. His eyes were emotionless, his body very still, as if he had encased himself in armor to separate himself from her. She chose her next words just as carefully. "Do you believe that I betrayed you?"
"Do you deny that you planned the seizure of Castle de Brueil with Jacques at the tourney?"
"If you put it like that, no." The hideous suspicion that Alexandre had not pretended to think her a traitor simply for Jacques's and Louis's benefit was quickly growing in Liliane's mind. He had every right to be furious that her failed venture had lost him everything, but how could he believe that she meant it to happen? Had he so quickly forgotten her loyalty in Palestine? Pride and resentment swept her. "You do think I am a traitor!"
"I think I am hanging in chains in my own bedchamber while my worst enemies have the run of my people and my inheritance. My wife admits turning everything over to them on a platter." Alexandre's voice was growing angrier with every word. "You conspired with my best friend, with those toads—you confided in everyone but me! I would have died for you, Liliane, but I did not have quite this manner in mind!"
Liliane was immensely relieved. He was furious about her intrigues, but he did not seem to think that she had been after his head. The question was, would he ever forgive her for ruining him?
As she moved penitently toward him, Louis opened the door and thrust in his head. "Enjoy her well, milord; I have!" With a mocking smile at Liliane's horrified face, he withdrew.
For a Stunned moment, Liliane stared at the door, then she caught sight of Alexandre's face . . . and realized that if he were free, he would have strangled her. "He is lying!" she cried. "You must know he is lying!"
A Flame Run Wild Page 40
