Where Love Has Gone

by Speer, Flora

  “Exactly,” Desmond said. “Like most noblemen, Lord Bertrand enjoys the hunt. Richard has reported that he often takes his guests into the forested areas. Bertrand is far from stupid, so I’ll wager he’d notice anything amiss on his land. In addition, he surely has a gamekeeper or two, to keep watch over the deer and the birds and whatever else he hunts. With so many sharp-eyed men about, it would be difficult to conceal a body in the forest for long. The smell alone would give its location away. Dig up a bush to bury a body under it and the bush will likely die – if you can get the thing out of the ground in the first place to put a body under it. If you trample the underbrush in the process of digging, the makeshift grave will be noticeable. There’s also the matter of what dogs or other animals will do to a body.”

  “There must be parts of the island where Lord Bertrand doesn’t hunt and farmers don’t plough,” Cadwallon said when Desmond paused to frown again at the sea and the cloudless sky.

  “There may well be a place or two,” Desmond agreed. “But why go to the unnecessary trouble of locating such a place and then digging a hole in heavy soil, when there is a far easier way to dispose of a dead woman?”

  “D’you mean, toss the body into the sea from the cliffs at high tide?” Cadwallon said. “Or carry it across a beach and into the water and leave it there? I don’t pretend to understand the sea the way the islanders do, but after all the warnings we’ve received about currents and strong tides, I’d worry about the body washing up on shore later. You mentioned that yourself, only a day or two ago. But Aglise hasn’t washed up on shore. We’d know if she had.”

  “If I am right,” Desmond said, “she never washed up on shore because she never was in the sea.”

  “I’d raise the same objections to the idea of burying her in the sand,” Cadwallon said. “The tides would gradually wash away the sand over a newly dug grave.” He shook his head, staring at Desmond in perplexity. Then, suddenly, he grinned.

  “I see,” Cadwallon said. “And you were right; it should have been obvious at once, because it’s the only place where Lord Bertrand and his men-at-arms didn’t look. Elaine told us how Bertrand sent his men to search the sea caves under the cliffs, and how they were almost swept away by the incoming tide and barely escaped with their lives. She said the near-tragedy convinced Lord Bertrand not to try again to look for Aglise in the caves.”

  “Which means,” Desmond finished for him, “that one area of the island remains unexplored for traces of Aglise.”

  “How do we get down there?” Cadwallon asked, looking along the track as if seeking a path to the beach below.

  “We ask Elaine,” said Desmond, glancing toward the manor. His heart skipped a beat before it began a rapid thudding. He tried to speak calmly. “Here she comes, just in time to assist us.”

  Cadwallon screwed around in his saddle to follow Desmond’s line of sight. “What the devil is Ewan doing with her?” he asked.

  “Most likely, he volunteered to come along. He has been eager to join us each day, and he’s bored with being assigned to stay at the castle and listen to gossip,” Desmond said. “Good day to you, Lady Elaine.”

  He spoke formally, because inwardly he wished with all his heart that Elaine were not present. If his conclusions were accurate and it was a lifeless body and not a hiding or imprisoned girl they were looking for, then what they were going to find would not be pleasant. He fought the urge to protect Elaine from the possible sight of her sister’s remains by sending her back to the manor with Ewan for escort. Instead, he told himself if he allowed her to stay, she could prove useful. Elaine probably knew the quickest and easiest way down the cliffs, and if they did find Aglise, she would be the person best able to identify her.

  “Desmond, I need to talk with you,” Elaine said. “Here, away from the manor, seemed a good place. I want as few people as possible to hear what I have to say.”

  “We can talk after you show us how to get to the beach,” Desmond said.

  “The beach?” Elaine gaped at him in open disbelief. “Do you imagine Aglise is hiding in one of the caves? Never! It would be far too uncomfortable for her. She wouldn’t last two hours, let alone two months.”

  “The caves are the one area that hasn’t been searched,” Cadwallon said in a gentle tone. “You told us the men-at-arms tried to search down there, but they gave up when the tide turned and they never went back.”

  “Are you thinking Aglise could be imprisoned in one of the caves?” Elaine asked. Then she winced as she understood. “No; you think she’s lying dead down there.”

  “It is a possibility we must consider,” Desmond told her, though to his own ears he didn’t convey the same gentle concern that had sounded in Cadwallon’s voice.

  “Oh, dear God in heaven,” Elaine whispered. Her shoulders slumped and for a moment she sat very still astride her horse, with her head bowed. Then she straightened, took a long breath, and met Desmond’s worried gaze with dry eyes and a calm demeanor.

  “I must learn what has happened to her,” she said. “Whatever the truth is, I have to know. I will show you the way to the beach, on condition that I go with you, that you do not send me away.”

  “You have my word,” Desmond said, wishing he dared clasp her in his arms and offer comfort. “You may stay with us for as long as you wish.”

  “What about the tides?” Cadwallon asked.

  “You’ve chosen your time well,” she said. “See the large rock in the water just below, the one that’s wet but the waves don’t quite cover it? There’s a sign the tide has begun to ebb. If the tide were just coming in, the top of the rock would be dry because it is well out of the sea at low tide. We have several hours to search, which is a good thing, for there are at least ten caves along this section of cliffs, and more in the cliffs farther to the west. We will have to investigate them on another day.”

  “Would the men who were looking for Aglise know when the tide is due to be low?” Desmond asked.

  “A man-at-arms certainly ought to know. Nearly everyone on the island pays close attention to the tides,” Elaine responded. “Why do you ask?”

  “No special reason. I was just wondering.” Desmond offered no further explanation, though his own question lingered in his mind. If the men-at-arms paid even the slightest attention to the ebb and flow of the tides, then why had a troop of them descended to the beach at a time when they would be threatened by incoming water? Why hadn’t they waited until the tide began to ebb? Had they been so eager to find Aglise that they paid no heed to the rhythms of the sea? Or did some other, less innocent reason lay behind the choice of that particular hour?

  “We’ll have to leave the horses here,” Elaine said. With Ewan’s help she dismounted before Desmond could offer his hand.

  The cliffs were not entirely bare of vegetation. A few bushes grew near the path and Elaine looped her mount’s reins around a branch to keep the horse from wandering. The men followed her example.

  From behind his saddle Cadwallon pulled a shovel with a handle in two sections, and Desmond took his own saddlebag. When they were ready Elaine led them down a steep, but not particularly treacherous path. It was, Desmond thought, a path a man could descend with little difficulty while carrying a small woman’s body slung over his shoulder.

  Elaine reached the bottom of the cliff and stepped onto the beach.

  “I gather the water reaches the cliffs at high tide,” Cadwallon remarked, looking around. “I notice the sand is damp right up to the lower part of the path.”

  “Yes,” Elaine said. “Some of the caves are flooded twice a day.”

  “Why is there even a path here?” Ewan asked. “Why would anyone want to visit such a dangerous and uninviting place?”

  “Smugglers and pirates are said to land on these beaches.” Elaine’s face lit with a brief smile before she turned serious again. “You should hear some of the wild stories the islanders tell. I suspect a few of them of helping the outlaws. They also claim Frenc
h spies come ashore from time to time, though in the two years I’ve lived on Jersey, I’ve never heard of any spies who landed here.”

  “Really?” Desmond said, recalling Elaine’s claim just a day or so ago that Aglise could have learned something important about French interest in the island. “Perhaps spies did land here, but you didn’t hear of them because they weren’t caught.”

  “It seems to me it would be simpler, and much less dangerous, for a spy to come to Jersey aboard one of the fishing vessels, rather than try to land on these beaches. There are shoals just offshore, not to mention all the rocks, some of which can’t be seen even at low tide,” Elaine said. “The sad fact is that some of the islanders are sympathetic to the French king, so they wouldn’t bother reporting a spy, wherever they saw him.” She gestured with one hand. “Three of the caves lie just over there.”

  They began with the nearest cave. Desmond was the first to climb up a yard or so of slippery, seaweed-encrusted rock to reach the opening Elaine had indicated, but Cadwallon was close behind him. The cave wasn’t very large. Daylight extended all the way to the smooth back wall of what was essentially just an alcove carved out of the cliff by the action of the sea.

  “The floor is stone,” Cadwallon noted, stamping his feet. “There’s no grave here, and no place to hide anything.”

  “True.” Desmond shrugged. “I didn’t expect the search to be easy. Let’s try the next cave.”

  They searched two more, similar caves before they were stopped by a projection of the cliff jutting into the sea.

  “Let’s look on the other side of the path,” Desmond said. “We should have time before the tide turns.”

  One cave held no more of interest than the previous ones. But the next opening was so low that Desmond had to leave behind his sword and the saddlebag he was carrying so he could crawl through the entrance on his hands and knees. As soon as he was inside he discovered that he could stand. He could tell the floor was made of sand because it crunched under his boots, but he couldn’t see much.

  To his surprise, Cadwallon appeared, squeezing his bulk through the opening while shielding a lighted stub of a candle. Elaine came into the cave behind him, with Ewan following her.

  “I always carry flints and bits of lint, in case I want to start a fire,” Cadwallon explained. “Well, this is an interesting place.”

  They were in a large, high room, the roof glistening with moisture, the walls smooth from the scouring motion of the waves over many years. When Cadwallon held the candle up so he could see better, Elaine paused in the act of brushing wet sand off her skirts and looked around.

  “Whoever would dream the cliff is so hollow?” she asked. Stepping off from the entrance, she began to pace across the damp floor, measuring the size of the room as she moved into an area of rock and shadows on the far side. “I doubt we have time to search this entire cave before the tide comes in. Oh, Aglise, where are you?”

  Hearing the note of despair in her voice, Desmond and Cadwallon glanced at each other. Before either man could say anything, Elaine cried out again, this time in alarm.

  “I’m sinking! I stepped into a hole. Oh, dear heaven! Desmond, help me!”

  They rushed forward, Cadwallon handing the candle to Ewan with a sharp warning not to drop it. Elaine was tottering ankle-deep in mud that sucked at her feet when she tried to pull free.

  “Is it quicksand?” Ewan cried, the candlelight wavering as his hand shook. “In Yorkshire, on the moors, a man can be sucked beneath the surface...”

  “It’s not quicksand,” Desmond said. “It’s just a hole.”

  “A hole that someone has deliberately dug,” Cadwallon added. “There by the rock the sides are almost straight.”

  Desmond had noticed, but he wasn’t listening to Cadwallon. He reached forward to catch Elaine around her waist and drag her out of the hole. Before setting her on her feet on the more solid sand, he held her close for a moment. By the way her heart beat frantically against his chest and the way she clung to him, he knew she, too, had guessed what the hole in the sand contained.

  Whoever had dug the hole had chosen a near-ideal location, close to the wall and protected on two sides by solid rock. Though the cave was regularly flooded, the depression in the sand wasn’t especially noticeable. Nor was anyone not on a desperate search likely to enter a cave with so low and small an entrance.

  “I believe we have found Lady Aglise,” Cadwallon said, his solemn tone confirming Desmond’s realization. “I can see linen wound around something solid. Elaine, you ought to wait outside.”

  “No.” Elaine’s face was pale and drawn in the light of the candle Ewan still held, but her voice was firm. “I will stay here. You will need me to identify her – if it is Aglise whose grave I stepped on. I will hold the candle so Ewan can help you dig.”

  “We’ll need more than one candle,” Desmond said. Wanting to give her a few minutes alone to recover herself, he added, “You will find two candles in my saddlebag, just outside the entrance. See if you can locate a couple of flat, stable rocks on the beach and bring them along, too. We can drip wax on them and stand the candles up, so we all have free hands.”

  “Very well,” Elaine said. “But I am staying with you until you finish digging. You cannot make me leave.”

  “We won’t try,” Cadwallon said before Desmond could insist that Elaine shouldn’t be present while her sister’s body was unearthed. “When you come back, bring my shovel along, too, and both sections of the handle. You may have to make two trips.”

  Elaine crawled out of the cave, then levered herself to a standing position by grabbing at the nearest rock. Tears flooded her cheeks and a heartbroken cry burst from her lips.

  “Aglise – oh, my poor sister!”

  She leaned against the rock face of the lower cliff, taking deep breaths until she was in better control of her emotions. Tears still trickled from her eyes, but she knew Desmond and the others were waiting for the supplies she was charged with carrying to them. If she wanted the truth about Aglise’s death, she was going to have to help Royce’s men as much as she could and trust them to see justice done.

  As she knelt next to Desmond’s saddlebag to search for the candles, she heard the sound of stones being dislodged from the path. She stood again, to find Lord Bertrand’s man-at-arms, Flamig, stepping onto the beach. He was a familiar presence, whom she had frequently noticed nearby during the weeks since she had last seen Aglise.

  “Lady Elaine!” Flamig exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I saw four horses tied just above and decided I ought to come down and warn whoever was here that the tide will soon turn.”

  “Oh, Flamig.” Elaine put out both hands and Flamig caught her forearms, steadying her.

  “What’s amiss, my lady? You are pale as death.” Flamig looked at her with real concern written on his harsh features.

  “Death. That’s what is amiss.” Elaine swallowed hard against fresh tears. “We have found Aglise. My sister is dead.”

  “What?” Flamig appeared to be as stunned as Elaine was. He looked around. “Here on the beach? Was she washed up, after all this time?”

  “She wasn’t drowned,” Elaine said, feeling much calmer now that she had to explain the circumstances to someone who knew Aglise and had always treated her with respect. “She is buried in the cave, just there.”

  “Buried?” Flamig echoed the word with an expression of horror. “That means, someone killed her – or caused her death and tried to hide it.”

  “Just so. Desmond and Cadwallon are inside.” Elaine moved one hand to indicate the cave entrance. “They sent me to find extra candles and Cadwallon’s shovel. I found her. I – I stepped on her!”

  “My lady, you should not be here.”

  “On the contrary, I must be here.” Elaine bit down on her lower lip, so the pain would stop the last of her tears. She had work to do, a duty to her sister to perform, questions that needed answering, and she wasn’t going to flinch from w
hat was required of her. “You may join us inside if you want, Flamig, though you’d do well to leave your sword out here. If you try to crawl through that narrow entrance wearing it, you will likely become stuck. I do believe the men could use your help.”

  “I’ll carry the shovel.” Flamig unbuckled his belt and propped his sword against Desmond’s saddlebag. “You go first, Lady Elaine, so they don’t think I’m an enemy bent on challenging them. From what you’ve told me, they’ll have reason to be cautious.”

  Clutching the extra candles and a pair of flat rocks she had picked up, Elaine crawled back into the cave. While Flamig made his slow way inside, she explained how he had noticed the horses and then had found her on the beach.

  “Dear God.” Flamig went to his knees beside the hole in the sand and crossed himself twice. “Who would want to hurt so lovely a girl?”

  “Who, indeed?” said Desmond, who did not look at all pleased at the additional company.

  “I can help you dig,” Flamig said, rising to confront Desmond’s cool, assessing gaze.

  “Were you among the men-at-arms who searched this beach for Lady Aglise?” Desmond asked.

  “Aye.” Flamig nodded. “And I was nearly drowned for my trouble. D’you think she was here then, lying so close, and we never guessed? Ah, poor little lady.”

  “Yes,” Desmond said coldly. “Poor lady.”

  By then Cadwallon had fitted the sections of the shovel handle together and attached the handle to the metal scoop. Ewan dribbled wax onto the rocks Elaine had brought with her, and set the candles securely on them. When he lit the new candles light flared across the cave, revealing the work Desmond and Cadwallon had done with their bare hands while Elaine was gone.

  “We have uncovered the head and shoulders,” Desmond said to Flamig. “As you can see, the body is wrapped in a linen sheet.”

  “The body?” Elaine cried, stepping closer. “Call her by her name.”

  “Not until we know for certain who is lying there,” Desmond said.

  “Then, open the sheet,” Elaine commanded. “Let me see her face.”