by Delle Jacobs
"Nay, lady," said Thomas. "Forgive me, but I also knew of this."
Alain stared, stunned. "You knew and did naught about it?"
Father Hardouin rushed into the chamber, Chretien at his heels.
"I did too much," Thomas answered. "I told the Lady Edyt, and she was murdered for her knowledge."
Father Hardouin, his brow furrowed heavily, stood waiting, trying to make out from what he heard how he was needed. Alain gave Father Hardouin a summary of Melisande's confession.
"She believes she is at fault," Alain told the priest.
The priest came closer, and lifted Melisande's chin in his hand. "How is it that you are at fault, lady?"
"He said I enticed him. I tried not to, but I did not know what I was doing wrong."
"Lady Melisande," said the priest, "I cannot disagree that you are a beautiful woman. But such comes from God, not yourself. You must not be vain of your beauty, for it is God's doing. Neither must you accept guilt for it."
"But I was willing."
"Willing? Yet you were tormented with darkness, and imprisoned? That cannot be called willing."
"Nay, that was not it, though he did use that, too."
"What else, then?"
"If I was not willing, he stole girls from the village, or other places, I do not know where, for I did not know many of them."
"What did he do with them?"
"He tortured them, and used them, then killed them and threw them into the pits."
"So that was why they were never found," said Thomas.
"And if you were willing, he would not do this?"
"Aye. And some died for my selfishness."
"There were many who disappeared," Thomas explained. "Sometimes a wild animal would be found dead, and have upon it some cloth or thing that belonged to a missing girl. So some people believed Fyren could change people into animals."
Father Hardouin shuddered and shook his head. "Cannot you see, lady, the threat he used? If he had not been willing to kill those girls, he would not have had your cooperation. That is coercion of the worst kind. God looks upon your sacrifice as holy, not evil."
"He said I was consigned to Hell, anyway, for we are Satan's kin. And I committed murder, too."
"It is not murder if he is not dead. But did not Father Leanian put a curse on Fyren?"
"Aye."
"Did Father Leanian know of all this?"
"Nay."
"Aye, he did," Thomas answered.
Melisande's mouth dropped open as she stared at Thomas.
"Lady Edyt told him, and bade him write to Rufus and beg help. Once, long ago, Rufus offered her a favor if ever she should need it. Though the king was but a young boy then, she hoped he would remember. I did not believe he would, for all have heard of Rufus' rapacity. But when I saw you, lord, I knew Rufus had answered her pleas."
Alain nodded as the puzzle began to come clear. "He had a letter that he burned, allowing none to see. He sent me, lady, under a very mysterious instruction. Fyren was to be killed, for unnamed evil, and I was to marry you and accept you as I found you, no questions asked. I agreed readily, though I was more inclined at the time to imagine you with two heads than this."
"Mayhap two heads would have been better." She hung her head miserably.
She had thought him serious. But he smiled at her sad reflection. "I find you without fault, lady. Save, you have no humor, and that can be changed."
"Well, lady," said the priest, "you may not even confess to the sin of attempted murder. As Father Leanian called for Fyren's death, you but sought to carry out God's will."
"Father Hardouin, I poisoned Fyren out of my own need for vengeance, and gave over all that was his to the Normans."
"Aye."
"But vengeance is God's, is it not?"
The priest smiled. "I think God is getting His vengeance, child. He has made you His instrument."
Father Hardouin watched her closely, seeming to believe he had not yet made his point. "I make my own pronouncement on this matter, then. Whether Fyren's evil is of Satan or of himself, he must not live, for in living, he destroys all that is good. It is our duty to fight God's causes, aye, even for a woman, if God calls her to it. And Rufus, though he is so despised by the Church, is yet a Christian man, and is right. Fyren must be destroyed, in the name of God."
"I do not understand one thing," Gerard said to Melisande. "I wanted to kill Fyren, and you would not allow it."
"I thought I should do it, since my soul was damned already. And I wanted to do it."
"Child, you were not damned," said the priest. "Anyone may receive pardon for his sins. You are no different. Come, let us see to this matter now."
Alain stood away with the other men as Melisande knelt before the priest, to receive absolution.
"She believed you would kill her, lord," Gerard told him quietly. "I did not understand why until now. It surely was more than she could say. But I knew in my heart she was wrong."
"You did."
"Aye. Else, I would have long since killed you. Her mother made me vow to protect her, you see."
"Ah. And just when did you reach that conclusion?"
Gerard's solemn face slowly stretched into a wicked grin. "It must have been when you came out of the bath house."
Chretien suddenly broke into a quiet chuckle that echoed about the chamber. "It was much like the morning after the wedding, I'll vow. Rufus did pick well for her."
Alain muttered to himself as he frowned. But he felt a slight smile creep onto his face, for he had other things on his mind as he led Melisande from her chamber into his.
"Mayhap this idea of private chambers is one thing of Fyren's that should survive," he said. He ignored the snickers behind him as he closed the door and let the latch fall.
None of them needed to know what happened after the door closed. Not for them to know the fire that erupted within him the instant his lips touched hers, nor how he touched her, nor she touched him. Their love grew between them, something uncountably precious, something that was entirely theirs. Let the others speculate, or imitate, but never know. His wife was his, and his alone.
* * *
"I must know something," she said.
She lay upon the feather mattress facing him, stroking lazily at his hair.
"Him?"
"Why did you come after me?"
"I wanted to tell you I was wrong. And beg you to come back, if I must. I was afraid, love."
"Afraid? You, a brave knight? Why should you be afraid?"
"I was afraid of losing you. If you got away, I might never find you again. You have done so much for me, Melisande. I cannot understand why I could not see it."
"But I lied to you."
"Aye, many times. And I would have you break that habit. There must be naught but truth between us from now on."
"Aye."
She smiled. It was a very small smile, but it shed the brightest of lights upon them. He had always known that her smile, however she gave it, would destroy the last of any resistance he had to her. He had been right.
* * *
He woke to a scattered assortment of scrapes, scratches, swishes. The bed beside him was empty. Did she dream again?
There she was. Squatted down near the far wall, wearing only her linen chemise and poking with her fingernails at the stone wall. Fascinated, he watched quietly as her fingers traced along the mortar. An odd dream, if it was one.
"Ha!" she said. Startling herself, she looked guiltily back at the bed and saw him where he sat, watching her.
"What do you do, lady?" he asked.
Her eyes were bright with sudden insight. "There has to be another way. I think I have found it."
"Another way?"
"Anwealda did not come either through the bolt hole or the hidden steps to my chamber."
"How so?"
"Gerard slept with his lady there. Though Anwealda may not have known that, he would have quickly realized his error if he trie
d it. If he got past Gerard, then he still would have to leave the panel open for escape. But it was not open."
"You have lost me, entirely."
"Suppose he came only to assassinate you. What did he plan to do about me? At the least, he would have to silence my screams. Even if he meant to kill me, he could not have killed both of us at the same time. He could count on one of us making enough noise to draw help. So he would have to make his exit very quickly. Hence, he would have left it open."
"I see."
"But it was not open."
"True, it was not."
"I do not think he came that way."
"Neither was any other hole open."
"Aye, and that is the second thing."
"What?"
"I do not think he came alone."
Alain jumped up from the bed instantly and grabbed his tunic to pull over his head while he rushed to where she now stood.
"Someone else that hurried away when the plot was spoiled, and closed the hidden door?"
"Aye. This is it, I think." She ran her finger along a mortar line around staggered blocks. He could not imagine how such a thing might operate.
"But I cannot find the lever."
"Lever?"
"The monks used levers or latches for this sort of thing."
"Melisande, if someone else was in the chamber, could he not have gone back through the other chamber?"
"Unlikely. Gerard must surely have been wakened by that time. And he had the brazier burning because of the baby. He would have seen someone."
He watched, still intrigued. He jerked on his hose and fastened his dagger belt as she flicked out a loose chink of mortar.
"Ha. Here it is."
Alain saw nothing, yet the masonry door swung open, leaving a portal a little more than three feet high. He grabbed the tinder box he kept inside his pouch and struck a spark for a candle, which they held close to a hidden chamber.
"That's where he put them."
"Put what?"
"The texts in Greek. He took them away from me when he learned I had been translating them. He can't, you see. He thought I would learn things he didn't know."
The small chamber had a floor that was several feet below the one where he stood, with the ceiling no higher than the height of the portal. Melisande lowered herself into it, and he passed the candlestick to her, then ducked down and jumped through the hole. Melisande was already shuffling through the small stack of ancient manuscripts and newer books, apparently her confiscated translations.
"If he could not translate them, why would he not wait until you were finished before taking them?"
"He wanted to know what they said, but not if he risked my learning something that could defeat him. Or simply that I might know more than he. He could never tolerate that."
"What is in them?"
"Many things. A very odd assortment, in fact. Some cooking recipes, but I do not understand many of the ingredients. There is something like 'fish sauce' that is ofttimes mentioned, but it does not say what it is. Mayhap I translated it wrong."
"Other than cooking, then. Some great secret that could change the course of a war?"
"Oh. Aye. Fyren's lightning powder, for one. It was in Latin. But he would not let me see it. There's Greek Fire, too, but– " Melisande's blue eyes widened in the meager candle light. "Aye, Greek Fire. I have puzzled over some sort of weapon, something to defeat Fyren, but– You see, the problem is that I cannot read all of the formula. But Fyren desperately craves the secret. If only I could figure out the last bit."
"Melisande, Greek Fire is not such a huge secret."
Her eyes took on a bright and wicked look that set him back. "The real one is. It has been lost for a long time."
"What is different about it?"
"It is said to be unquenchable. And it produces a fire beyond all imagination. Curious, is it not, that Fyren should so desire it, when he is so afraid of fire?"
"Even more curious that he should be afraid of fire."
"Aye, it is. He was burned badly on the legs as a child, and he has feared it ever since. He would not allow rushes or candles in the private chambers and will not light a torch or a candle, even out of desperation."
"So Fyren has a weakness."
She sighed. "But I get ahead of myself, lord. The formula is useless until I can divine the last ingredient. And I came to look for the hidden entrance, not a weapon."
"Still, take the book out with us. Mayhap you will find something when you look again."
"Mayhap. It was in a sort of code, and with the translation from the Greek to Latin, as well, I cannot guess it."
"What does it seem to be?"
"Antithesis. It is a way of saying, 'the opposite'."
"Opposite of what?"
"That, lord, is the problem. I cannot tell. Or it may simply be a word that has another meaning I do not know."
He had not her patience for such obscure things. In fact, this morning, he had no patience for any but one thing, but Melisande was already absorbed in her quest. She passed the books through the portal, talking almost to herself as she did.
"All the other ingredients are perfectly common," she said. "Saltpeter, charcoal, sulfur, tar, that sort of thing. Mayhap this 'antithesis' is the name of something that cannot be found around here. It derives from the Byzantines, you know."
"Actually, I did not," he replied, as he handed another stack of books to her.
"And as you say, those who did not know the secret invented their own versions. Rather effective ones, too. But the real Greek Fire could spread across water to set enemy ships afire, and could be shot through pipes, so that it did not threaten its users. If we could just find its trick, we might find a way to use it against Fyren. But how?"
Alain boosted her up through the hole and scrambled up behind her. "I do not understand why Fyren would want such a fearsome weapon if he is so afraid of fire."
"He always delegates such things to his subordinates. I am sure that is what he would do. But think what power one would have with such a thing. Think also, how much more useful it could be for evil purposes than for good."
"Aye. It would create enormous destruction. But I cannot see how it might be used otherwise."
"And that is why I meant never to resurrect it. Still, if we might defeat Fyren, then mayhap, we must."
He laughed. "We. I know naught of any of this. I cannot think what help I shall be, beyond the fetching and carrying."
She looked at him with her big, round, summer-blue eyes in deadly seriousness. "I shall need you to listen to me. You might be able to point out errors I do not notice."
His patience for all this wore thin, for his desire for her was overwhelming it. He stepped toward her and reached out for her, to draw her snugly to his body.
"Melisande, love," he said, "Say my name. I would hear you say it."
For that, she smiled. A smile like sunshine, for its warmth. She should have had a life of smiling. "Alain. My love," she said, and her voice became silky with her desire.
His own ignited.
"But not till you close that," he said, in answer to his own silent question. "That hole stinks of Fyren."
It became a very urgent matter to get them both back to the bed from whence they had come. But he only just had his arms about her again, when a scuffling sound beyond the door interrupted them. The door banged twice, then Chretien burst through with no more than a fleeting glance at the lovers wrapped in each other's arms.
"Rufus comes!" he nearly shouted.
"So early?"
"Aye. He forced the march through the night when he learned of Fyren. Already he reaches the bridge."
"A pity kings cannot be taught good manners," Alain grumbled, and he hastily donned the remainder of his clothing before dashing down the stairs from the balcony.
Melisande soon followed him, still pulling her kirtle over her head as she ran, scurrying through the hall and out to the kitchen to see that breakfast a
waited the king and his minions. Alain would rather have had her leave such things to the servants, but she had become too used to her duties. She felt more at ease if she had a task to perform.
Today she would meet the King of England, who had meddled in her life. He wondered what Rufus would think of how his little scheme had turned out. And today, he would at last learn from Rufus how much of it had been the king's doing.
