by Delle Jacobs
* * *
Bones on the floor. Alain snickered to himself. Did they truly think he believed that?
Mayhap Gerard did fancy the girl. There was a certain intimacy in the way they talked. Well, he had to do it. He could hardly concentrate on necessities as it was. He'd make a point of talking about it with her. Alain walked past the dais and turned to climb the wooden stairs.
Shouts rang from the bailey like bells. He spun in his tracks, sped toward the hall door, meeting Gerard running back in. His eyebrows rose sharply with the unspoken question.
"They found a knight dead!"
"Norman or Saxon?"
"Norman, I think. I have not seen. In the new tower."
Alain had put a man there the night before, thinking of the vulnerable bolt hole. He rushed past Gerard out into the bailey, up the slope and inside the tower. Ahead, four men bent over, about to lift the body.
"Leave him there!" Alain ran up to the startled men, who rose and stood back from the body. "Is this how you found him?"
"Aye, lord, here."
"Have you moved him at all?"
"Robert lifted his head, but no more," said Hugh. "He is dead, lord."
"Who?" But he saw for himself. Not the guard he had expected, but his knight, Jean Nouel. Alain knelt beside him. The light from a small horn lantern shone on the blood that had oozed onto the stone floor and matted Jean Nobel's blond hair. A lump hardened in his throat as he brushed his fingers over Jean Nobel's eyelids to close them. A good knight. A friend.
"He could have fallen, Alain."
Alain looked up at Chrétien and shook his head. But to be sure, he scanned the unfinished floor, its beams spanning the tower above the vaulted arches of the undercroft. Above that, blue spring sky.
"Is this the way his head was found?"
"Nay, lord," said Robert, and gently moved the dead man's head back to the way he had found it, flung back and to the side. Robert's fingers grazed tenderly across the bloody hair on his friend's head. "It could only be that his neck was broken."
"How, then?" Alain felt for the bones in the neck. He slowly nodded. A man could not move his head that way, and the neck bones were fractured. The jaw, as well, as if Jean Nobel had landed on it.
Alain stood, crossed his arms. "He fell, I am sure, but that does not explain the wound on the back of his head."
He caught the glimpse of Edyt's yellow braid, falling over her shoulder as she came up and bent down to the broken body.
"Do not trouble yourself, Edyt You can do naught."
He saw then the merest flicker of something beyond that of a woman doing duty for her Norman lord, before the mask slipped once more into place. He could not define it. Fear? A sadness, for a man she had not known?
Something stalked this hall. Not merely something that sought to rid the place of the intruders. Something familiar to her, and to those who lived here with her. What were they hiding? He grew impatient with their infernal silence, their half-answers that had little meaning. Anger surged.
"You have sent for Father Hardouin?"
"Aye, lord, he comes."
"Then do what must be done. You may have use of the hall. I am sorry, Robert. I know he was your friend."
"Aye."
"Edyt, you will come with me."
"But lord, I will be needed to help with the arrangements."
"Appoint someone. You will come with me." He did not wait for her response, but spun around and strode from the tower.
"I cannot think what you want of me, lord," she said, hurrying to catch up with his long stride.
Alain felt no sympathy for her plight. "You cannot?"
"Nay, lord."
"What do you know of this, Edyt?"
"Naught, save that, I disbelieve your man died of the fall, as might appear."
"And again, Edyt, you tell me no more than I have already learned. Yet, you know more than you tell me."
"Nay, lord. I know naught more."
"Do you not? And what did you whisper with Gerard, this morning? The man shows uncommon interest in you."
"I have told you."
"Bones? Nay, Edyt You play me for a fool, and I am not fond of the part. You will tell me. Do you conspire with him?"
"Conspire? Nay, lord."
"So you, like all the others here, have naught but support and love for the Norman overlord?"
"Mayhap not love, lord. But the castle is yours, and all within it. We are bound to your will."
"And how is this so easily come by?"
"Because all know, at your very worst, you will be better than what we had."
"Is it so? Do you not think this sudden change of loyalty suspect? When all the North burns with hatred for the Normans? Jean Nobel died because he saw something, Edyt And I will know what it was."
"Mayhap only Jean Nobel knows. I know not."
"I see the fear in your eyes, Edyt What do you fear? That you will be caught in your own trap?"
Now the blue eyes flashed the fire of defiance. "If you think me guilty, then punish me and have done with it."
Alain felt himself flinch under her glare. So, he was pursuing the wrong direction.
"What does Gerard have to do with you?"
"Naught. But I have the keeping of the household, and I ofttimes overreach myself."
"Bones, again. I think not. I will find the bottom of this, Edyt You'd best not be there."
Alain kept up his rapid pace as Edyt struggled behind him, for he had not yet dismissed her, and would not. He meant to keep her within his sight for the day. She knew something.
Through the hall and up the wooden stairs to the lord's chamber, she trailed behind him as if led by a leash. Shame crept up on him. She had not given him reason for his mistrust. If she had private discourse with Gerard, was that reason?
Nay. But he hadn't liked it. He had pretended even to himself to be bemused. Ha. He was jealous. That was what colored his mood so black. But this maid could not be his. He must find that damnably evasive Lady Melisande who looked like everyone and no one, and get his mind off this girl. And if he had to marry Edyt off to Gerard, or anyone else, he would do it. By Christ's Holy Blood, he would.
Alain stomped through the doorway into his chamber and gave the heavy door a hard shove, slamming it into its jamb.
"Again, Edyt, who is Gerard to you?"
"A knight in my lord's service."
"Naught else? He shows uncommon interest in you."
"I am not such a woman as you infer, lord."
"Then, who are you?"
"Who? I do not understand."
"Who, Edyt? Where is your family? Are you one of those who fled from the east into Cumbria?"
"My family is all gone, lord. And I am too young to remember those terrible times. Mayhap Thomas can tell you more."
Aye, she would not have yet been born. "Then did your family come from there?"
"My mother, I think. She was from Durham."
"Ah. At last the fair Edyt has almost given an answer."
"I do not know if Durham is east of here, lord. I know naught of it."
Of course. How would she know? Few but soldiers would have known where Durham lay. He had mistaken an intelligent mind for one with knowledge.
"Aye," he replied at last. "Durham is to the east. You may go, Edyt"
With a silent bob of her head, she skittered quickly toward the door. Well, this time, she made no great pretense at composure. He was sorry he had frightened her. Mayhap he would find a way of being kinder to her.
It was distance from her that he needed. Well, mayhap he needed to speak first to Gerard. Later.
Alain walked slowly to the slim double-arched window that overlooked the bailey. Below, the yellow braid that danced behind Edyt's lithe back switched back and forth as she hastened over the hard-packed ground.
She stopped in front of the stables and spoke to Gerard.
CHAPTER 6
The demons assailed her, screaming in her mind as s
he ran.
Kill him! Kill him!
He knows!
He does not! Kill him before it is too late! Kill him or they will burn you!
He lusts for you. You are evil.
They will burn you.
She ran, fleeing the voices, fleeing the man. She would not hear them. If they killed her, it did not matter. It did not matter. She was doomed, anyway.
"Edyt, what?"
She startled at the sound of Gerard's voice and the gentle grip on her arm, for she had not thought of where she ran.
"Naught. 'Tis naught but that I must hurry. The Norman knight must have a proper burial."
"He has frightened you."
"Aye," she admitted, "but it is naught. He thinks us lovers because we spoke this morning."
"Then I will speak to him. He presumes too much."
"Do you not see the danger in jumping into the pot he stirs? Do not respond. He is far too clever."
"Edyt– "
"I beg you, Gerard. Let it go."
"You play a dangerous game. But it shall be as you wish."
Melisande could not even manage a bleak smile before she moved on, but she paused to recapture her composure. She crossed the bailey to assist the priest with the chapel.
* * *
By God's Blood, he would get his mind off that girl. He did not need a yellow-haired temptress to complicate his life, telling him first that she had no attachment to the knight Gerard, then running straight to him.
He was perfectly in control of himself. He just needed to keep himself busy. Needed to ride out, that was it. His men had been clamoring for it. Alain bolted to the chamber door and barked down at Thomas below in the hall. Quickly, he was rewarded by a chamber full of his most powerful knights.
"Thomas, you were to name the absent knights."
"Aye, lord. Anwealda and Dougal are to the north, Cyneric to the south and east."
"Send for them."
"I have done so, lord, but they cannot be found."
"If they are not found soon, their fiefs will be forfeit. Are these men you trust, Thomas?"
"Nay."
"Or you, Gerard?"
"One, mayhap, not the other two."
"Then I should consider the one?"
"I said only that I might trust him. But he will go with Strathclyde."
"Wallis?"
"I say the same."
"Then we must not waste time. Have the holdings seized."
Chrétien cleared his throat as a deep frown etched itself into his brows. "It is one thing to check the lay of the land, Alain, but quite another to seize it. You weaken the defense of the castle to send men out."
He had been expecting Chrétien's natural caution to resurface, once the bravado from his wound wore off. "Aye, Chrétien. But we must also protect Rufus's rear when he passes through. And we must do what can be done to clear the way north. Those excess men who worried you can be put to good use keeping Anwealda and Dougal from securing their holdings."
Wallis folded his long arms over his chest. "Do you trust Saxons to do this for you, lord?"
"As you know you cannot unseat us, aye. I think so."
"And when does Rufus come?"
"Soon. A fortnight, mayhap a little more."
"I do not like it, Alain. To divide our forces at such a time– "
"Anwealda's fortress is easily within a day's return trip," said Thomas. "Dougal's, barely farther. With luck, both could be had within a few days."
"Then, Thomas, you must mind the castle. You, too, Robert, for you must see to Jean Nobel. We shall ride out, see what we can, do what we can. At the least, we must make a plan to contain them. Beyond, that is Rufus' job."
"How far does he go?" Thomas asked.
"To the Solway Firth. This will fix his border from Northumberland, across. The Solway makes for a natural defense, along with the Cheviot Hills."
"Does he not covet Scotland?"
"Every monarch covets all of the Isle. But Rufus is prudent. Mayhap, Scotland tomorrow. Why do you laugh, Chrétien?"
"I have never heard Rufus described as prudent."
"In this respect, only."
"And what will Malcolm do?" asked Gerard. "He is not prudent. In this respect or any."
Thomas nodded his agreement. "He will certainly do something, lord. Mayhap he would counter Rufus at Carlisle. But he would more likely come south through Durham and swing west to cut off Rufus from the rear."
"Little impedes Rufus before Carlisle," said Hugh. "Mayhap he should hold back men to close like pincers upon Malcolm."
"Aye, 'tis a good thought," said Robert. "Mayhap we'll let them pass, come in behind, let Rufus turn on them."
"Nay, but you are not far off," Alain replied. "We will do as much, but hold them here. Then Rufus will turn on them and catch them between us."
"I like it," said Thomas.
"As do I," Gerard agreed.
Edyt watched the Saxon knights closely. "You have no love for Strathclyde, then?"
To this, Thomas grinned. "We are not Strathclyde. It is long defunct, and naught more than a buffer for Malcolm's Scotland. He does naught to stop Scottish raids."
"Aye," agreed Wallis. "We have been Saxon too long for the Scots to change us."
Alain was not satisfied. There was still that last concern. "And what of the Lady Melisande? Does she wait in ambush?"
"Nay." Thomas shook his head along with his denial.
"And you, Gerard?"
"She will not fight you. Lady Melisande is not your enemy."
"Mayhap. Will she also learn that I am not hers?"
Thomas and Gerard looked at each other, but made no reply.
Alain gave out an impatient sigh. "Well, then, we ride."
Chrétien held back as the Saxons and other Normans left the chamber, and stood aside while Alain's squire worked the hauberk over Alain's head and shoulders.
"I like it not, Alain. Too much depends on your trust of these Saxons."
"Gerard is not Saxon, but Norman."
"His skin, only."
"Mayhap. But if he chose to deceive us, he would not show his loyalty for his lady so openly. We have naught without them, and they have naught without us, so what do we risk?"
* * *
The way north led through the Eden River's valley that was a lush green, with the eagerness of early spring forcing up through the still cold earth even before the mountains gave up their caps of snow.
The horses breathed great frosty plumes in the cold air as they trod along a road that was hardly worth the name. Mud oozed wherever it ran too low or spanned some tiny rill. Only where it crossed over hard stone was the footing sound.
Gerard rode at the lead, for he knew the land ahead. Wearing his heavy helm and Norman mail, Alain could tell little difference between Gerard and the men who had been under his command through the Normandy and Brittany campaigns. Gerard was Norman, Norman in his battle gear, Norman in the way he sat a horse, forward and straight-legged. Yet, Chrétien was right. Norman in skin only.
Like Chrétien, he pondered the limits of the man's trustworthiness. Yet he gave the man authority. He could not defend his decision with reason, for it was but instinct. The sort of decision he was likely to make, unlike Chrétien, who would never make such a gamble.
If he was wrong, Rufus would fail.
Before the sun reached its zenith, they rounded the curve of a steep hill that led them from one wide dale into an even wider one.
"There, lord," said Gerard. "There lies Anwealda's holding, against the slope, close by the beck."
"Not an imposing one," replied Alain. Hardly what he had expected.
"It is not. But if any thinks to take Fyren's place, it would be Anwealda. His holdings are spread out, but large. It is not the same here as in the south. Here, the folk live scattered about on their lands. Villages are not so common, and manors tend to be small and isolated."
"Aye, I had noticed that. Mayhap folk will consider cas
tles to be more to their liking if they may be better defended."
