The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery

by Newman, Sharan

  “It was clever of you to wound yourself so you wouldn’t be suspected,” he complimented Aymon. “How did you do it?”

  “What do you mean?” Aymon asked. “Your blasted guards shot me. I would have been halfway to Rouen by nightfall if I hadn’t been hurt. You can’t imagine how awful it was to come to and hear my mother’s voice grating away at the psalms!”

  Edgar turned his attention to Olivier.

  “Lord Brehier and I request that our ransom be set, and a messenger sent to Paris so that I may raise it, my lord,” he bowed politely.

  Olivier popped a ripe plum in his mouth, chewed a while, and then spat out the seed.

  “Seems to me,” he said at last, “that ransom is for knights captured in battle, not spies.”

  “I beg to differ,” Edgar smiled. “It is not what the man was doing when captured, but how much he can pay.”

  Olivier ate another plum.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “That sounds right. Unless we find this fabulous treasure Aymon insists is hidden under Boisvert, it may be all I get from this campaign.”

  Brehier gave a snort.

  “Treasure! You didn’t come all this way for that, did you?” he laughed. “If you believe in that, I have some excellent relics to sell. Our Lord’s sandal strap. John the Baptist’s leftover locust leaves. The miter of Saint Peter from when he was bishop of Rome. What will you offer?”

  Aymon rose and punched him hard enough to knock him over.

  “I hate poor relations,” he said. “You were always annoying, you and Guillaume and Raimbaut. You all said I could play hide-and-find with you, and then you never looked for me!”

  Brehier struggled to stand.

  “And this is what happened when I did.” Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “You’d be dead now if Edgar and I hadn’t found you.”

  “Did you also try to stop the messengers?” Edgar asked. “You only got one and he had already reached me.”

  “That was the first plan,” Aymon said. “When you all came anyway, I had to think of something else.”

  “And what about the bit of cloth with the strange writing on it?” Edgar asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Aymon answered. “Any more than that story about the outside tunnel. You’ve been listening to too many stories with a full wine flagon in your hand.”

  “And Mandon?” Brehier said cautiously.

  “Oh, she’s real enough,” Aymon said. “Some bastard child of Gargenaud’s, I think. She’s totally mad, but harmless. He won’t let us drive her out. She steals food from the kitchens at night, you know.”

  “You mesel!” Brehier cried. “You made them think it was me!”

  Olivier was getting bored with the bickering.

  “I don’t care about your myths, or who Aymon has done away with, as long as the treasure is real,” he said. “Take these two out and tie them up well until I decide what to do with them.”

  As they were dragged out, Edgar overheard Aymon say to Olivier: “It’s there, I promise. You are no more than another shovelful from breaking into the chamber. There are more riches there than in the whole town of Genoa.”

  The alternate way down was much drier than the one they had taken under the keep. Bits of shiny stone sparkled in the light of the lamp Agnes carried.

  In less time than they expected, Catherine and Agnes found themselves in a large cavern. On the wall hung a large version of the embroidery pieces. In the center was a table covered with a white cloth. On it was a tall silver pitcher and four silver cups.

  Agnes reached out and took Catherine’s hand.

  “Welcome, children,” a rich female voice greeted them. “I knew you would find the way.”

  The professional prisoner trussers had had no difficulty with Edgar’s missing hand. They had simply pinioned his elbows painfully behind his back.

  “This wasn’t exactly what I had intended us to do,” he told Brehier.

  “It’s better than I feared,” Brehier answered. “I thought the rope would be around our necks.”

  They were silent for a while, each gauging the possibility of rescue or escape.

  “By the way,” Brehier said after a while. “I’ve asked Samonie to marry me.”

  “Really?” Edgar said. “What did she say?”

  “She doesn’t mind, if you don’t object,” Brehier said. “She thinks I asked her just because of finding out I’m Martin’s father, but that’s not it. She’s a fine woman. One to grow old with.”

  “I’ll not argue that,” Edgar said. “She cooks well. . .You’re what?”

  At that moment a roar of triumph came from Olivier’s army.

  “What is it?” Edgar was positioned in the wrong direction.

  “It sounds like they’ve broken through into the passage.” Brehier sagged. “Now there’s nothing to stop them from overrunning the keep.”

  “Damn it!” Edgar struggled impotently at his bonds. “We’ve got to get out of here! Someone has to warn them!”

  Nineteen

  Andonenn’s cave. The same time.

  Chi voel a fin mon contre traire

  Beneois soit qui le vos conte

  Beneois soit qui fist le conte

  A cials, a celes qui oirent

  Otroit Jhesus cho qu’il desirent.

  Now I wish to finish my tale

  A blessing on the one who tells this

  A blessing on the one who made the tale

  To those, men and women who listen

  May Jesus give them all they desire.

  —Silence, II. 6702–6706

  Mandon,” Catherine said flatly. “It’s time to stop playing games. No one is coming to save you.”

  “But here you are,” Mandon said.

  “Didn’t I tell you she would find a way?”

  Another woman walked out of the shadows. She had combed out the hair dye and washed the lines from her face.

  “Where have you been, Berthe?” Catherine wasn’t thrilled to see her. “Did it amuse you to lead me about and then abandon me? Do you know what happened to our poor mother?”

  “Yes,” Berthe said. “I’m so sorry. Did you bring the other knife?”

  “What? No?” said Catherine.

  “Yes.” Agnes brought it out from the bag at her waist.

  “At last!” Both women reached for it.

  “Agnes, what are you doing?” Catherine tried to go for the knife, as well.

  “Catherine, it’s all right.” Agnes pulled away from her. “Evaine told me that Mandon had asked for it.”

  Mandon took the knife gently and set it on the table. Berthe brought out her knife and set it next to the one that had killed Raimbaut.

  “Now we have the key,” Mandon said.

  “You might have just asked for it at the beginning,” Catherine said sourly.

  “Not until we knew which of Andonenn’s children was trying to destroy us,” Berthe explained.

  “And now you do.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” Mandon said. “It will be hard on Seguin. He never should have married that woman. Good fruit comes from good stock. Elissent was of the family of Empress Judith. She was bound to breed traitors.”

  “Oh, yes, Judith, the one with the curse,” Catherine remembered.

  “Elissent?” Agnes asked.

  “No, it was Aymon,” Catherine told her. “Marie couldn’t understand what had made his wounds nor why he wasn’t able to walk when nothing vital had been pierced. But I didn’t suspect him until he ran away. I knew Samonie would have wakened if anyone had tried to take him. And now I think I know what wounded him.”

  She pointed to a quiver of short copper arrows.

  “You two did it, didn’t you?”

  “We couldn’t let him leave,” Berthe said. “We needed him to direct Olivier’s engineers.”

  At last Catherine understood why there had been so little activity in the enemy camp. Edgar must have suspected this. Her heart froze. Someone ha
d told her he had been seen this morning in the bailey with Brehier. They couldn’t be so foolish as to have left the safety of the walls to find out.

  “Olivier can’t breach the walls, so he’s digging under them,” she said.

  Berthe nodded. “If one knows where, it isn’t hard to penetrate one of the tunnels.

  Agnes was becoming more bewildered. “You wanted Olivier to undermine Boisvert?”

  “Not exactly.” Mandon smiled. “You’ll understand soon. But first, we must assemble the key. The time is come to retrieve the treasure.”

  The only treasure Catherine could imagine at this moment was to have her family around her and all of them safe at home. Still, after all they’d been through, she could spare a moment to see what Andonenn had been protecting all these years.

  Mandon and Berthe picked up the knives again. Both Catherine and Agnes stiffened. Then the women carefully twisted the blades. There was a click and the metal slid from the hilts. The pieces hidden within the handle were oddly serrated. Catherine watched in growing comprehension as the women turned the blades around and inserted them back into the wood so that the serrated pieces were now sticking out. They looked very much like keys.

  Berthe and Mandon moved toward a dark opening in the cave.

  “Come with us,” they beckoned.

  Catherine and Agnes followed. Mandon set a lantern on a long table and then walked around it. On the other side was a huge empty basin carved from the stone.

  “This was Andonenn’s pool,” Berthe told them. “The one where she brought Jurvale. Until Seguin married Elissent, it was always full of clear water. But Judith’s curse grew stronger with her kin under our roof. It made the earth slide and stopped the flow of the spring. We knew that, even if he knew what had happened, the curse would keep Gargenaud from digging it out.”

  “Wait.” This was too much for Catherine. “You arranged all this? People have died! The castle is about to be taken over. Those poor guards were tortured to death by Olivier’s man!”

  “We know,” Mandon said. “It grieves us, as it did to kill those clumsy thieves. We shall have to answer to God for our deeds someday. But we at least know that we have saved Andonenn and given the treasure back to the world.”

  Agnes leaned over and whispered to Catherine. “I’m sorry I blamed you for Mother’s madness. It’s obvious that this place addled her mind before we were ever born.”

  “You realize these women are our aunts,” Catherine whispered back.

  “Himmel!” Agnes exclaimed. “Is this what will happen to us!”

  The women appeared not to have heard them. They stepped into the dry pool and went to the center, where a square pillar stood. They inserted the knives into slots on either side of it and turned.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then the block began to move with a creak that made Catherine’s back teeth shriek in agony.

  Mandon lifted the top off. Berthe reached in and took out a parcel wrapped in ancient sheepskin. She cradled it in her arms as she brought it over to Catherine.

  “Of all Andonenn’s children, we feel you are the one who can use this most wisely,” she said as she handed her the treasure.

  Catherine took the object. It was heavy. She started to unwrap it, but Berthe stopped her.

  “Not here,” she said. “There isn’t time. Please, share a cup of wine with us. It is the last from Andonenn’s dowry. To honor her. Then you must take the treasure and leave.”

  “A cup of wine?” Catherine was disgusted. “Is this some weird pagan ritual or do you intend to poison us?”

  Agnes touched her arm. “I don’t think they mean us harm,” she said. “Although I’m not completely sure. Let’s drink. What difference does it make? Olivier’s army will soon overrun the keep. I want to get back to Gottfried and Hermann. If we are going to die, I want to be with them.”

  Mandon smiled with childish joy at their acquiesence. Carefully she poured an equal amount from the pitcher into each of the silver cups. She gave one to Agnes and, after she had shifted the treasure to balance against her chest with her left arm, one to Catherine. She and Berthe lifted theirs.

  “To Andonenn’s children and saviors,” Berthe said. “May you continue to be blessed.”

  Catherine tasted the wine. Then tasted it again. The first sip made her think it had spoiled. There was a fizz to it. But it didn’t have the rotten smell of bad wine. It was more like tasting stars. She drank the rest eagerly. If it was poison, it was the best she had ever tasted.

  “Now hurry!” Mandon pushed the two of them out of the cavern and toward the tunnel. “Follow the string. Quickly now. Don’t worry. Everything is going according to plan.”

  “But why all this mystery?” Catherine called back over her shoulder.

  “It was the only way to do it,” Berthe called back. “We needed to make a miracle. Now run!”

  Edgar’s arms and legs had gone completely numb.

  “What’s happening now?” He strained painfully to twist enough to see.

  “I’m not sure.” Brehier craned his neck to get a better view. “The engineers broke through a while ago into one of the tunnels. Olivier immediately sent his soldiers down. They must be on their way up to the keep by now.”

  “We’ve got to get free,” Edgar said desperately. “Before the guards come back.”

  “Keep struggling,” Brehier suggested. “Maybe a rope will snap.”

  Preposterous though it seemed, Edgar had no better idea.

  “Damn,” he said. “I’ve pulled a muscle in my leg.”

  “Edgar, something strange is going on,” Brehier said a while later. “The soldiers are coming back. It looks like they’re wet.”

  “Wet? There are no baths at Boisvert,” Edgar said. “The well is drying up. What could they have landed in?”

  “I don’t know, but more are coming,” Brehier reported. “They appear soaked as if they’d been caught in a sudden rain. Edgar, I think Aymon directed them to dig into the underground spring!”

  “How?” Edgar said. “No one knows where it is.”

  “They do now.” Brehier was getting more and more excited. “They aren’t climbing out now, but bodies are gushing out on the water. Some of them aren’t moving.”

  Edgar felt tears sliding from the corners of his eyes.

  “The siege is over, Brehier,” he said. “Olivier can’t get into Boisvert. They’re safe. Catherine and my children are safe.”

  Catherine and Agnes were up to the lower storerooms when they heard the roar behind them. They looked back. The stairs they had just climbed were now rapidly being covered with water.

  “Catherine,” Agnes said. “Mandon and Berthe are down there. They’ll drown.”

  “I know,”Catherine said. “They did, too. Agnes, there’s nothing we can do. They wanted us to be saved. And the treasure.”

  “Whatever is in that box had better be worth it,” Agnes said. “But I don’t believe it will be.”

  “I don’t, either,” Catherine agreed. “There is nothing worth the price that’s been paid for it.”

  They entered the hall to find it full of people. Everyone from the castle and village seemed to be gathered there. Wine and beer were being passed and liberally quaffed.

  “Mama!” James raced up to her. “Mama, we won!”

  “We did?” Catherine bent to receive his hug. “Where’s your father?”

  “He didn’t come back yet,” James said.

  “What? But he’s been gone for hours!”

  James caught her panic. “Mama, they won’t cut off Papa’s other hand, will they?”

  His shrill voice rose over the joyous chatter of the others.

  “Of course not,” Catherine said.

  She realized that everyone was looking at her. The box containing the treasure slid to the ground.

  “What has happened to my husband?”

  No one wanted to answer. From the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Samonie, sitting by the hear
th. She wasn’t rejoicing.

  Catherine went cold all over. The room was too full, the faces leering. Everything was spinning. Her head fell back and she collapsed into her sister’s arms.

  In the woods, Edgar was considering the situation.

  “The one problem with Olivier being washed out of Boisvert is that he has no reason now to keep us alive,” he told Brehier.

  “Aren’t we still worth a ransom?” Brehier wanted to know. His efforts at breaking the ropes around his ankles had only made his feet go numb.

  “Maybe, but it’s more likely he’ll be so angry at wasting all these that he’ll slaughter us in spite.”

  “You seem calm for a man convinced he’s about to be killed,” Brehier complained.

  “My family is no longer in danger,” Edgar said. “Solomon will see that they are cared for. I’d like to do it myself, but this is a fair trade.”

  “I would have liked to get to know my son,” Brehier sighed. “But at least I know that I shall leave something behind me when I die. Do you think they’ll let us have a priest?”

  They both were silent, thinking of the sins they would not have time to do penance for. From the mouth of Olivier’s tunnel, there were wails of anger and grief.

  All at once, the cries changed to ones of fear. Brehier looked up.

  “Horses,” he said. “I hear horses. You don’t think that Thibault has come to save us at last?”

  “Catherine? Catherine? Please wake up.” Margaret was rubbing her temples with some acrid oil. “Solomon came back! He brought men to lift the siege. Everything is all right. They found Edgar. He’s fine.”

  The words penetrated slowly into Catherine’s unconscious.

  “Here, deorling,” a deep voice interrupted. “Let me have her.”

  It was the sound of his heartbeat against her ear that brought Catherine to herself again. It was so constant and reassuring.

  Margaret had expected that Catherine would fly into hysterics when she realized Edgar was alive, but she only turned in his arms so that she could hold him more tightly. He looked down into her face. The expression was so intimate that Margaret had to turn away. They would have only a moment before being overwhelmed by the affections of their children.