Merton looked at Alden too, but unlike Garren, he knew that Alden would never lie about something as important as Amandine. Alden was honourable. He would not have left Amandine in Brittany if he knew she was alive.
“Amandine is dead. Bastian told us she was dead,” Alden insisted. “Josephine confirmed it. Don’t listen to him. He is taunting you. He is taunting you both.”
“Is she alive?” Garren looked at Alan as he spoke. “Tell us now, or I will cut your throat.”
Surprise flickered in Alan’s eyes as he looked at Garren. “You are alive as well? You du Lacs just won’t die, will you? Where the hell have you been all these years?”
“That is none of your concern, answer the question,” Garren replied.
Merton swayed on his feet as he struggled to breathe. It was as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs and all that was left was an endless burning pain. He was hanging on to consciousness through sheer will. He had to know the truth.
“Merton, you need to sit down,” Alden insisted. “You look like you are about to collapse.”
But Merton found he could not comply with Alden’s simple command.
“ANSWER, DAMN YOU,” Garren ordered.
Alan remained stubbornly silent, so Garren dragged him to his feet and shook him.
“YES,” Alan yelled into Garren’s face. “Yes, Amandine is alive. She is alive.”
Garren let go of Alan and pushed him away from him. “If you are lying…” Garren warned.
“We were told she was dead,” Alden stated in horror. “Sampson?” he looked to the monk for an explanation.
“I know only what Bastian told us,” the monk said, his face too registered his surprise at such news. “Although I thought it odd at the time because I saw Alan intervene and stop the beating of Amandine.”
“That is exactly what I did,” Alan confirmed.
“And you didn’t think to say anything?” Alden asked the monk with disbelief. “You never once contradicted Josephine when she said how she heard Amandine scream.”
“I…” Sampson struggled to find the right words. “I didn’t know what was going on while I was in the dungeon saving his life,” Sampson tilted his head in Merton’s direction.
“Why would Bastian lie? Why would Josephine lie?” Garren asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I agree,” Alden stated. He scowled at Alan. “Is this some sick plan to get us to go to Brittany?”
“Josephine was there,” Alan said with force. “She was there when I stepped in and stopped the beating. She saw me pick Amandine up and carry her away. Josephine knew Amandine was still breathing. I don’t know what she has been telling you, but it isn’t the truth. Just as Bastian has not been truthful to me. Alden, I was in on your escape. I organised the boat that took you home. I am not lying, I swear on my father’s grave, I am speaking the truth.”
“He did get the boat,” Sampson agreed.
“I am not going to beg for my life,” Alan said. “But if you let me live, I will take you to her, and I will help you get her out of Brittany. Alden, Sire, I am the Keeper of the Blade, and I have every intention of finding the Knights and bringing them here to fight with you. It is only a matter of time before Mordred takes Brittany away from Philippe. He is already undermining him. And, after what Mordred did to the Priory and the nuns, I would rather slit my wrists now, than fight for him.”
“You and the nuns will accompany us back to Dor,” Alden’s stated, his voice commanding although shaky. “We have a lot to talk about, you and I.”
“Yes, we do,” Alan agreed on a sigh of relief.
“But let me make myself clear, the only way any of you are leaving again is in a box. Merton died in that cell in Benwick. We cannot risk anyone knowing the truth.”
“If this is what you want,” Alan said with a shrug. “But you cannot beat Mordred without the Knights. He is too powerful.”
“We will see,” Alden replied. “Give him back his weapons,” Alden commanded.
“Thank you,” Alan spoke with a breath of relief as Draíocht was handed back to him.
“Knights…” Alden didn’t have to say anything else for his knights knew him better than he did himself.
The knights sheathed their swords and softened their expressions. Several of them helped the nuns get back on their feet. And a few took off their cloaks and placed them over the nuns trembling shoulders.
“As soon as we are back home, you have a lot of explaining to do,” Alden said to Alan. “As do you,” he looked at Sampson. But Sampson was looking at Merton.
“Sire,” the monk said urgently. “Merton.”
Merton swayed alarmingly on his feet, and the scars on his face stood out against the pallor of his skin.
“Merton,” Alden said his brother’s name and reached out to steady him.
“She’s alive?” Merton gasped the question.
“I don’t know,” Alden answered. “But I am going to find out, I promise you.”
Merton didn’t respond. His face had the look of a man who had been visited by a ghost. There was terror in his eyes.
“Merton? Look at me,” Alden stated in a concerned whisper. But Merton had stopped responding. “Garren, help me, he is going to fall,” Alden commanded with panic. Merton’s eyes rolled in his head, his legs gave way, and he collapsed against his brother.
33
Voices spoke in hushed, yet hurried, sentences. Merton could smell leather and the familiar aroma of horses. The air was crisp, scented with the sea, but he couldn’t breathe the air in, not properly. His head was pounding so hard that the idea of opening his eyes was too hard to even comprehend. The ground moved under his feet, and something was jarring in his stomach. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognised the three beat gait of a horse in canter. He tried to hold on to reality, but it was so hard, it was so much easier in the dark. There was nothing there, just blissful forgetfulness.
“Merton.”
She was alive. This knowledge brought him great joy, but also despair. All this time. All these many months wasted in agony because he had thought she was dead.
“Merton.”
Merton raised his hand to his throbbing head. He reluctantly opened his eyes, expecting to be met with the glare of the sun. But instead, he found himself back in his brother’s chamber, covered in furs and lying on the bed. The fire pit had been lit, and the flames had chased the cold from the room. The room was so warm that Merton had to fight the urge not to go back to sleep.
“Yrre?” Merton groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What happened?”
“You fainted like a virgin fearing her wedding night,” Yrre replied with a lopsided grin.
With a groan, Merton pulled himself up into a sitting position. Every part of him hurt, but his pain was inconsequential because Amandine was alive. Hope swelled in his chest. He had to go and get her. He couldn’t leave her there, not for one moment longer. He thought about what Alan had said, about what the Church had done, and he felt anger — anger the likes of which he had never felt before. Cursing under his breath, he attempted to stand. Yrre’s restraining hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.
“Santo says you are to drink this first,” Yrre handed Merton a cup full of the foul remedy that Tegan had prescribed.
Merton downed the remedy in one go. He felt the pain lessen almost immediately and the ache in his head became less intrusive. The remedy didn’t usually work that fast. Santo must have fiddled with the recipe. He tried to rise again, but Yrre wouldn’t let him.
“And he says you are to eat this,” Yrre stated with a grimace, handing Merton a piece of bread soaked in copious amounts of honey. “Santo told me that you passed out because you are not eating properly. So I suggest you eat it. If you refuse, I have been told to force it down your throat, and I don’t want to do that.”
It wasn’t a lack of food that had made him pass out. It was sheer terror at the thought that they had left Amandine
behind. But Merton kept that knowledge to himself. “I am not two-years-old,” he complained as he picked up the wet bread. “This is something I would give to Tanick.”
“It was that or gruel,” Yrre replied with a shrug. “I know which one I would prefer.”
“Where is Alden?” Merton asked, between mouthfuls.
“He is in the Great Hall with everyone else. Out of respect, he is waiting for you before they question this Alan. Alden thought you would want to be there for that.”
Merton finished the rest of his meal in silence. He ate quickly and welcomingly accepted a goblet of mead.
“Here’s your stick,” Yrre said moments later, taking the goblet out of Merton’s hand and replacing it with the stick.
Merton rose to his feet, but the pain in his stomach, even though he had so recently taken his pain relief remedy, made it difficult for him to stand straight. His stomach felt battered and bruised. “Please tell me Alden didn’t throw me over a horse,” Merton complained as he forced himself to straighten.
“He thought you were dying on him, so you can’t blame him. It turns out you just need to eat more. You must eat, Merton, otherwise the next time…you might not wake up. Santo says it is bad for your heart if you do not eat properly.”
Merton brushed off Yrre’s concern. “Did Alden tell you about Amandine? She’s alive, Yrre,” Merton’s eyes burned brightly with hope.
“She might be alive,” Yrre corrected gravely. “Merton, you have to prepare for the fact that this Alan could be lying.”
“But if he isn’t?”
“I pray to the gods that he isn’t. But don’t get your hopes up. If she is dead, it will be like losing her all over again.”
Yrre held the door open, and Merton made his way into the Hall. The Hall was packed, and the air carried the tang of many bodies. All the knights that had been on the beach were here. Servants dashed about the Hall, refilling goblets and serving food. Everyone spoke in hushed tones about the day’s happenings. But all fell silent as Merton crossed the room to where Alden sat. Merton tried not to dwell on what others thought of him, but he knew that passing out was the worst thing that could have happened. He was already a cripple, and now he would be seen as a warrior who had lost his courage and quite rightly so. By fainting, he had lost what little respect any of the knights had for him. But their opinions did not matter. All that mattered was Amandine. He bowed, somewhat awkwardly to Alden, and took a seat at the table with his men. Yrre had managed to procure a jug of mead on his way in and he placed it on the table, next to a fine variety of sweet pastries, and sat down next to Merton.
Moments later Garren came into the Hall. His face was white. He sat down at the back of the Hall away from everyone else and began to chew on his fingernails.
Alden stood, and conversation ceased.
“I am sure you all know why I have called for this gathering. Garren, what did Josephine say?”
Garren inhaled sharply, and then he pushed himself from his seat. “She said that she…” He began to chew on his fingernail again and then, realising what he was doing, he dropped his hand away from his mouth. “She lied. Amandine is alive. I am sorry, Galahad,” his words seemed forced and were delivered between clenched teeth.
Merton closed his eyes and breathed out on a small, relieved, sigh. So it was true, Amandine was alive, and that was all he needed to hear. As for Josephine, first she had lied about his daughter, and that in itself was unforgivable, but to also lie about Amandine… What kind of woman would do that? Josephine would rue the day she thought to lie to him.
“Josephine knows that what she did was wrong and she apologises for that. If I may later have a private audience with you, Sire, I will tell you of her reasons for the deception. Considering her situation, I beseech you to reprimand her after she has given birth and after you have heard what I have to say. I beg you to spare her life. Although what she has done is wrong, there is a reason for it,” he glanced at Merton as he spoke.
Merton felt Garren’s gaze on him and was surprised by the accusations that shone from Garren’s eyes, and he wondered what Josephine had said. She had probably woven a story that made her the innocent victim. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Garren sat back down and began to eat his nail again.
“So you speak the truth,” Alden said, looking at Alan.
“Getting her out of Benwick will be no day at the beach,” Alan stated. “She is heavily guarded for the Abbot has ensured that she is both feared and hated.”
“Is it true, what you said earlier about the Church mistreating her?” Alden asked, his voice filled with suppressed anger at the thought of Amandine’s suffering.
“She didn’t find much in the way of mercy,” Alan shook his head as he remembered. “The Church accused her of adultery and worshiping the darker realms. She was condemned by Bell, Book and Candle,” he looked at Merton as he delivered that fatal blow.
“Oh my God,” Merton muttered, it was worse than what he thought. How dare the Church condemn her so. She had done nothing wrong.
The holy men in the Hall crossed themselves, as did several of the knights.
“The Church has condemned her because of me—”
“What did you expect?” Garren asked, his words scathing. “You were The Devil—”
“The Abbot wanted her to burn on a pyre,” Alan stated. “But the Abbot, who was so instrumental in her misery, is dead. And Philippe has made Amandine his ward. The Church can no longer touch her unless he says so.”
“Why does Philippe offer her such protection?” Alden asked with a frown.
“I don’t know,” Alan replied. “But whatever his motives are, I do not trust him. Everything Philippe does, he does for a reason. The only thing I can think is that he needs her knowledge to host this extravagant event of his.”
“What extravagant event?” Alden asked.
“Philippe has invited many nobles, from all the kingdoms, to help celebrate his victory over Budic. Amandine has the skills to arrange such a feast — Philippe does not. She is useful to him, for the moment. Begging your pardon, but I thought you knew about the victory feast, Sire? An Ambassador was sent here to invite you to the celebrations. Everyone is invited except for Budic, for obvious reasons. I am surprised you do not know that Amandine is alive, the Ambassador would have told you, surely?”
“So that was what that was all about,” Garren scoffed. “I told you, Sire, you should have let the Ambassador speak. But no. We could have known she was alive months ago. Call yourself a King?”
“How dare you speak to Alden like that. He is your King. You pledged your fealty,” James reminded Garren, trying to keep the anger from his voice.
“He does not deserve the throne,” Garren stated. “His rule so far has been an absolute shambles. Oh, I have heard all about it in the last couple of hours. I have heard why Wessex invaded and I know all about The Pitchfork Rebellion. You butchered your own people. What kind of King does that?”
“How dare you stand there and cast judgement on our sovereign King. That is treason,” James roared. “Get down on your knees and beg his forgiveness.”
“King?” Garren scoffed again. “I see no King here.”
“I should have left you in the cave,” Alden stated coldly, rising to his feet.
“How is this helping Amandine?” Merton asked his brothers. “Because that is why we are gathered, to talk about rescuing Amandine.”
“Are you challenging me for the throne?” Alden asked Garren, ignoring Merton’s words. “Because you will lose if you do.”
“You can challenge him tomorrow, Garren, just not today,” Merton pleaded.
“No, we will settle this now,” Alden stated. “The security of my kingdom takes precedence over everything. The kingdom is my first priority.”
“I understand that the kingdom, your kingship, is your priority. But Amandine is MY PRIORITY,” Merton yelled, banging the table with his fist. He took a moment to rein in
his temper. “So if the two of you want to go outside and settle this matter, then that is up to you. BUT I WILL NOT…” He took several steadying breaths and stood up. “I will not allow you to make this about a throne, which, let’s be honest, neither of you wanted in the first place. Alden…please…sit down, and Garren, any grievances you wish to talk about can be addressed in a civilised manner tomorrow. Can we please keep this meeting about Amandine?” Merton looked at both his brothers and then sat back down. He took a deep breath, willing his temper back under control. “You were saying…” he looked at Alan.
“Philippe is throwing a lot of money towards this gathering. He has invited nobles from afar,” Alan spoke cautiously, for the atmosphere in the Hall was incredibly tense.
Alden glared once more at Garren before sitting back down.
“Philippe intends to impress. I suggest that you wait until the week of the celebration, it will be easier to get her out then,” Alan suggested.
“That is too long to wait,” Alden stated, glancing at Merton as he spoke. “I would take the army across the sea, but in this case, I feel that it would be wise to keep a low profile. We must get her out in such a way that no one will know that we were ever there.”
“That is impossible,” Alan answered. “No one goes in or out of Benwick without permission. The guards on the gate have been doubled. Philippe isn’t taking any chances—”
“I know how to get her out of Benwick,” Merton interrupted. “And I won’t have to ask anyone for permission.”
“How?” Alden asked.
All eyes fell on Merton. Merton slowly stood and regarded everyone in his brother’s Hall. His eyes finally rested on Alden. “You won’t like it, Sire.”
“You are not going,” Alden stated, reading Merton’s mind. “So you can get that idea out of your head.”
“Then I will not share my plan,” Merton said stubbornly, and sat back down.
“You would condemn Amandine because if you can’t rescue her, no one can?” Garren snarled, standing back up. “That is a bit childish, isn’t it? It is your fault Amandine is in the situation she is in. You cannot think to leave her there just because you are too weak to make the journey to Brittany yourself. I am going to retrieve my wife.”
The Du Lac Princess: (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles) Page 39
