Germaine spun angrily on the other two. Simon looked at Danielle, and he must have seen the excitement in her eyes. “Now, sir …”
He stepped toward Germaine, setting a hand on his shoulder. Germaine opened his mouth to speak … but all that came out was a gasp. Danielle saw the reason. Simon had quickly, quietly, plunged a small dagger into the man’s chest. Blood spilled over his tunic. He slipped to the floor, dead before the fall.
“And what of his men within these walls?” Langlois raged to Simon.
“His men—French men. They will fight for us. We must quit sniveling and answer the messenger with a rain of arrows from the parapets.”
“What of Germaine?” Langlois demanded.
Simon stared at Danielle. “Leave her with the corpse for now. Let her see what death is like as he rots and the stench rises to her nostrils.”
They started to the door.
Danielle rushed to the window. She could see the horseman, waiting with Prince Edward at the front of the forces. She studied him, his movements, the way he gestured. Then he lifted his visor and it seemed her heart stopped beating. It was Adrien.
She turned, too overjoyed to be prudent. “It is Adrien. And this time, he will kill you, Simon. Surrender to him—he knows the meaning of mercy, if you do not.”
“Leave her! We’ve more important matters!” Langlois snapped.
But Simon strode back to Danielle, grasping a handful of her hair and wrenching her to him. “I’ll survive, and you’ll be mine, and I will relish every agonized scream from your lips …”
He threw her from him. She caught herself, finding her balance, and stood tall as she cried out defiantly, “No, Simon, I am going to survive! Adrien is going to survive.”
Simon took an angry step toward her.
“The castle must be defended!” Langlois bellowed, and Simon at last turned his furious eyes from her and stamped out of the room. The door slammed, and a bolt fell into place. She stared after the men, exhilarated … and frightened. The walls here were high and thick. It was a formidable castle. A siege could take weeks …
Adrien had not had a reason to study the Castle Cardineau before, having never been called upon to put down revolt here. It was dismaying to study the fortress, and he did so with his jaw locked. The castle had three main towers, with no discernible breaches in the structure itself; beyond that, it was completely encircled by a thirty-foot wall, with a sally port and bridge, now tightly drawn.
A messenger had called down from the parapets with a reply to the demands given Germaine in the name of the King of England. The reply stated that the Englishman, Count Germaine, was dead, the castle was seized in the name of King Jean of France—and the Countess d’Aville had planned to escape England and return to her homeland.
Adrien knew that he had doubted Danielle for several terrible seconds when he had been struck and she had been seized. He didn’t doubt her now. He would not do so, no matter what lies Simon and Langlois tried to tell. His heart ached. He prayed that she wouldn’t fight too hard, and that she wouldn’t be hurt. Whatever Simon did to her would be fleeting, and it would never change his love. He would, however, find a way to kill Simon. Or he would die.
“Don’t fret, my friend,” Edward told him. “We begin the attack now.”
“Arrows can’t penetrate stone,” Adrien said, sliding his visor back into place. “I don’t see a weakness in the walls.”
“There are castle servants, loyal to my father, who have slipped out. We’ll have plans drawn.”
“Aye, we’ll find a weakness!” Adrien agreed.
“Archers!” Edward bellowed.
With that, the attack began. Adrien had fought with Prince Edward for years, as had many of Edward’s men, and they were good at what they did. They were able to communicate with little effort, and able to move an army efficiently with deadly results. Flaming arrows were sent arcing over the walls; they heard the screams of many of the defenders as they fell. After the initial volley, foot soldiers carried a ram against the drawn bridge that created the outer gate to the fortress. When Adrien saw that the defenders were readying with boiling oil to hurtle down on the attackers, he called the retreat; the minute the Englishmen were safely out of the way, the archers took up their posts again and another rain of death fell upon the castle.
So it went throughout the day. Attack, retreat, attack, retreat. They lost very few men.
But they came nowhere near to breaking the defenses of the castle.
Adrien paced the ground outside the walls that night, staring up at the castle, his muscles knotted with tension, his mind racing with anguish. With darkness fallen, where was Danielle? His love for her transcended anything Simon might do, but his rage and fear were becoming uncontrollable. How would he bear the time it would take to breach the walls, wondering constantly what Simon was doing to her.
“Laird MacLachlan!”
It was Sir George who approached him anxiously.
“Aye, Sir George, you’ve some news?”
Sir George smiled. “Not a way to breach the wall, Adrien, but a bit of good news. Your lady is well.”
“Thank God!” Adrien breathed. “How do you know?”
“One of the kitchen lads who hauled bath water slipped to our side before the bridge was drawn. And there’s more.”
“Aye?”
Sir George’s smile deepened. “She’s well, and, er, in a chaste position—for the time, at least.”
Adrien frowned, his heart leaping. “How do you know this? Simon’s first act would have been rape.”
“Yes, but apparently he decided to force himself when there was some boiling water about, and … well, he’s not functioning at this time.”
“What about Langlois? He was eager to annul our marriage and seize Danielle.”
“Simon is a Valois and outranks him, apparently.”
Despite his fear and desolation, Adrien found himself staring up at the castle, pleased. “So she scalded his …”
“Yes, to put it bluntly, Adrien, that is the case.”
Adrien started to laugh, then spun on Sir George. “Simon did not hurt her in retribution?”
“He intends to take his revenge at a proper time.”
Adrien tensed, telling himself that he mustn’t go mad and throw himself against the stones.
“We must breach those walls!” he exclaimed.
“Aye, Laird MacLachlan, we must!”
They left Danielle through the night with the corpse of Count Germaine. She had covered him with the linen from the bed, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the sheet.
Flies were flocking into the tower room. Their droning was beginning to make her insane.
At dawn, she heard men shouting. A catapult was sending missiles over the walls, and in the courtyard, men were screaming as they were struck with burning, splintering wood. She watched, pleased, and didn’t hear the door to her room open. She didn’t know that Simon was behind her until he wrenched her around to face him. “Come, lady, we’re going to the parapets. We’ll see what Prince Edward hurtles over the walls when you are in the firing range! Then, if you’ve any sense whatsoever, you’ll say that you’re here of your own free will and that you intend to marry me.”
“I’ll never say that.”
“You know how adept I am with a knife. You’ll speak, or die.”
He threaded his fingers into her hair, wrenching her along. She had thought she could fight him, but the pain was excruciating. He dragged her down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, then out across the courtyard and up the steps that led to the parapets on the outer defenses. She heard shouting from the English, and the arrows that had been flying toward the castle ceased to fall. From where she stood, she could see the vast alignment of the English forces, Prince Edward and Adrien, always warriors, at the head.
Simon gripped her arm in a painful vise, making sure she was visible to the men. “Englishmen, see! The Lady Danielle of Aville! She stands
here of her own choice! I say you are a false knight, you who wear the MacLachlan’s colors. If the lady’s husband lives, he should come forward, and she will tell him that she has come here by choice, is my mistress, and will be my wife as we reclaim our land for ourselves!” He finished shouting and added softly to his archers on the wall, “Be ready!”
Danielle watched as Adrien moved his horse closer to the wall. He lifted his visor. She heard Simon inhale sharply as he realized that Adrien had survived.
“Talk to him!” Simon raged. “Bring him closer to the wall, tell him you betrayed him with me, that you want to be with me—if he goes away, he won’t die!”
She raised her voice. “Adrien! Come no closer—” she warned.
“Bitch!” Simon roared, and she felt the point of his knife cutting into her side. She wanted to live, Adrien was alive. And perhaps, there was even a way …
“Adrien! Leave this castle! How can you forget? Do you think that I can forget?”
She could see her husband’s eyes, giving away so little to anyone else. But she also saw that he didn’t believe she had betrayed him.
“Adrien MacLachlan! Don’t you remember? You were the one responsible for the fall of Aville! You were the one. Remember how you were the one?”
“Now!” Simon cried. He wrenched Danielle back while his archers tried for Adrien.
But Matthew was swift, and Adrien was quickly beyond their range of fire.
Swearing, Simon dragged her back to her tower room.
“I told him what you wanted!” she proclaimed, facing him. He stared at her, then struck her across the face with a blow that sent her flying down on the bed. He stood over her. “Pray he goes away,” he said. “Your time is coming.”
The door slammed in his wake. The bolt slid home.
Adrien stood before Edward in the command tent. “Tunnels!”
“What?” Edward demanded.
“We tunneled into Aville. She was telling me that there is some kind of underground passage from the castle, and that to breach the walls, we must get inside them.”
Edward, who’d been sitting on a camp chair, rose. “Send for that kitchen lad!” he commanded his men.
The lad came.
While arrows continued to fly and the battering ram was brought against the bridge, they began to plan. The boy knew about the dungeons and could point out what he knew of the maze beneath the castle. “They’ve tortured many a poor soul down there, aye, that they have, my liege prince!” the lad told Edward. “I’ve heard that they took corpses—noble corpses at times—straight to the sea so that they might disappear.”
“I’ll find the entrance. I’ll take twenty men with me, no light arms, no heavy armor. We’ll get inside and get the bridge down,” Adrien said.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t—you’ll be too hasty, Adrien, too involved—”
“I’ve done this before!” he told Edward softly. “At Aville. Keep up the appearance that our attack is purely frontal.”
“Aye, that I’ll do,” Edward said. “Take the castle in my father’s name, Adrien.”
“Aye!”
“And, bring your wife safely from these walls!”
Adrien nodded, turned, and called out to Sir George to arrange for the men who would attend him. Daylin was quickly at his side, and Michael, from Aville. Others joined behind them.
They rode a direct route from the castle to the sea and there split up, exploring the cliffs and caves that let out at the sea. Daylin found the entry. “Here, Adrien, here!” he cried. Adrien rushed to where Daylin stood. He studied the opening in the cliff and told his men, “When the tide rises, this opening must flood. We’ll move as quickly as possible through this area.”
They entered into the cliff by the sea and began walking into a stone tunnel of darkness. Torches led the way.
The water began to rise as they walked.
Higher and higher.
To their waists …
To their chests …
Not a single man voiced his fear of being drowned. And then, they came upon a sharp turn, and higher ground. In a large, damp cavern area, they saw the corpses of a dozen men, mostly bones, chained to the walls … left to starve or drown or expire from the elements.
The men looked around in silence. “There’s a tunnel,” Adrien said, and they moved through it.
They walked another thirty minutes before coming to more corridors. “Spread out,” Adrien ordered softly, and they did. He moved quickly himself, taking different paths that led to dead ends—rooms where others had been imprisoned. They came upon implements of torture—and more corpses. Each man looked grimly upon the death around him without flinching. They returned to the central point to report on what they had seen.
“I believe I have found the right way,” Michael told Adrien.
“Aye, and how are you certain?”
Michael, sodden and muddy, smiled, his teeth flashing white through the grime. “I can smell food. If we find the kitchens …”
“Aye, Michael, lad, lead the way.”
Danielle stood at the window, watching the battle with a sinking heart. King Edward was tenacious; his son was even more so. But the castle was strong. And if the siege waged on, day after day, week after week …
Her door suddenly burst open. Simon stood there. He was white, and still.
She heard a roar of shouting and a clash of arms from the courtyard below, and she looked down to see that a melee had broken out. Men battled men with swords, maces, hammers, whatever was at hand.
The gates were opening; the bridge had been lowered. Her heart leapt to her throat. Adrien had understood her message.
“You should go below and lead your men into battle, Simon,” she told him.
He shook his head. “You’re not going back to him.”
“Perhaps you should escape. Run, quickly, get away from here.”
He shook his head again, looking at her. “I’m sorry, Danielle. It could have been so different. If you’d have married me before he came …”
His voice trailed. He was just staring at her. Then she realized he was holding his knife. His thumb was sliding over the hilt.
He started walking toward her.
“No!” she cried, aware he meant to stab her in the heart. He came closer and closer. She leapt over the bed, picking up the washbowl, hurtling it at his head. He followed her around the bed, and she stumbled over it again, screaming as she tripped over Germaine’s corpse. She threw the sheet at Simon, and then a pillow, then a shoe, realizing that she was running out of missiles and was defenseless—and he was very, very good with a knife.
She tried to run past him, but he caught her arm. She struggled against him, spitting, clawing, trying to make him drop the knife.
He wrenched her around so that she tripped backwards and fell on the bed. He straddled her, pinning her with his weight. Then, with both hands, he raised his blade above her.
“Danielle …” he whispered.
She cast her arms before her, shrieking.
But when the knife would have fallen, he was suddenly wrenched away from her and thrown across the room. He crashed against a wall, then slid down it.
Adrien was staring down at her. He was muddy, hair askew, tunic torn. His eyes were fire. He reached for her, helping her up.
“Adrien …” she began softly, then she screamed anew, for she saw that Simon had rallied and was catapulting toward Adrien with the knife raised, aimed for the heart.
With a supple gesture, Adrien drew his blade.
And Simon impaled himself.
He fell slowly to the ground, staring at them both. Then his eyes glazed over and he was dead.
Danielle cast herself against her husband, sobbing with relief. He swept her up into his arms.
“Come, my love, let me take you from this place. Let me take you home … ah, lady, I meant—”
“Home, Laird MacLachlan, is France, England, Scotland—wherever you may be!” she told him. A
nd she clung more tightly to him. “In your arms, sir, I am home.”
And shaking with relief, he carried her from her place of imprisonment.
Chapter 25
PRINCE EDWARD, BEING YOUNG and a romantic himself—and also pleased that the castle had fallen so quickly—gave Adrien and Danielle immediate leave to go about their business. Adrien suggested that they go to Aville, but she was anxious to return to London.
“I can’t bear being away from the baby, Adrien, even if he is with the world’s most natural mother in the queen. I want to continue to nurse my own child, Adrien. It is very important to me.”
“I understand,” he told her, and he did. She didn’t mention her discomfort, but her breasts were heavily swollen, and he was glad that she wanted to nurse their child rather than bring in a woman as so many of the nobility did. Once, Aville had been everything to her, just as having his way had been so vastly important to him—serving the English king in all matters. The world around them wouldn’t change, but they had changed. The world being what it was, they still had many rocky roads ahead of them.
They headed immediately across the English Channel. With the sheer relief of being together, and sailing in one of Prince Edward’s own ships, they were able to take the captain’s cabin. And there, as Adrien tried to cradle Danielle, she pulled away, intent upon staring at his face, touching him. He caught her hands, and said, “What is it, my love?”
“I’m in awe, and so grateful. I still can’t believe that you’re alive. I wanted to die myself. I know that they threw you into the sea …”
“And you know that I can swim. The water was cold, and snapped me back to consciousness. And we’ve many good friends. Monteine came out of the apartments screaming for help and the men quickly began to light fires and organize a search. And Terese—aye, the little wench with whom you so rudely assumed I amused myself—went to the queen, hysterical because she had been forced to help provide Simon and Comte Langlois with horses.”
“If she helped save your life, I am eternally grateful to her.”
He grinned. “She and my squire, Luke, wish to marry. She will be a busy young woman.”
“And Monteine and Daylin are just waiting for a proper date to wed!” Danielle said, smiling. “But still, how were you able to—”
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