A Killing Season mm-8

by Priscilla Royal

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Hugh squirmed. The salt-saturated rope, binding his wrists and ankles, cut into exposed flesh. “Untie me.”

  “Do not confuse the man you see here with the child you once knew. In those days, I was a fool, chasing after you, longing for your approval, and willing to believe anything you deigned to tell me. But after you left with my father to fight the infidel, I learned to act and reason like a man.” Raoul laughed. “Were I so stupid as to release you, you would attack me.”

  “Men also trust.”

  “Want-wits do as well.”

  “If I swore not to harm you, what cause have you to believe I would not honor my word?” He stopped. Was he imagining that the roar of the sea was closer? “Surely I was not cruel to you as a boy.”

  Raoul extended his sword and lightly jabbed Hugh in the chest with the point. “Cruel deeds? The question you ought to ask is whether you ever protected me from them. Remember the time I stepped where your friends swore the ground was firm? I am sure you knew it was not but said nothing. The earth crumbled. As I fell, I watched the sea open its maw to swallow me. Had chance and a rock not caught me, I would have drowned.”

  “I did not know they had lied, but you should also recall that I was the one who lifted you to safety.”

  “And laughed because my bowels had loosened with terror.” He stared at the knight, then drew back his sword. “Sir Hugh, your greatest sin was never cruelty but rather your choice of boon companions.”

  “Then why not untie me?”

  “Because a man’s comrades prove his character.”

  “You may have been a boy, but I was little older. Boys grow into men, and men grow in wisdom.”

  Raoul roared with mocking laughter. “Did some priest teach you those fine words? Having known enough imprudent men, my brothers amongst them, I doubt the truth in such judgement.”

  Again Hugh hesitated and listened carefully. It was not his imagination. The tide was coming in. “Hear the sea striking the cliffs?” He gestured with his head. “If this tide is high, we have little time to escape. Release me, and we shall argue on higher ground.”

  “And allow you a fair fight? I captured you only because you had dropped your guard.” He waved his sword and chuckled. “You came here looking for a killer, and, having found my burrow, long to drag me from it by the ears like a cony. Despite your poor opinion of me and my wits, I know you are stronger and more skilled with a sword than I. Do not imagine I will let you take me prisoner and deliver me to the hangman.”

  “Listen to reason!”

  Raoul wagged a finger at the knight. “I am. There is good cause to believe that I killed Umfrey, and probably my other brothers as well. Am I not the only son still alive? That makes me my father’s heir, a fact that must gall him. What proof is there of my innocence?” He extended the sword again and playfully waved it over Hugh’s bindings. “None, or you would not have come. Shall anyone praise my virtues, swearing on a saint’s relic that I am incapable of committing fratricide? My mother, perhaps, a woman who sometimes forgets my name.” He pressed his free hand against his heart. “Or my father who showed his love by shaming me in front of his friends.” Then he touched the sword point on a spot between Hugh’s eyes. “And you expect me to trust you, a man who would have been relieved at the removal of an annoyance if I had fallen to my death that summer day?” He drew back his sword.

  “Did you kill your brothers?”

  “You find it necessary to ask the question.” Raoul’s eyes narrowed. “That proves I am right not to trust you. Of all those living in this place, only Leonel might defend me. But who would believe a man who never speaks ill of anyone?” He stepped back from Hugh and sheathed his weapon. “If I have confidence in anything, it is my hanging.”

  Hugh shifted, but there was nothing he could do to find comfort or to keep the ropes from cutting into him. Now raw, his wrists burned with the salt.

  Throwing his head back, Raoul murmured something inaudible. The sound was like a sob.

  Hugh wished it were, but he doubted it.

  “Whether or not you choose to believe me, I am innocent, yet the evidence suggests otherwise in two deaths at least. I did not stay in the castle long enough to learn all details of Umfrey’s death, but many surely have no doubt that I killed him.”

  “Then return and defend yourself. Surely there were witnesses to prove you could not have done these deeds.”

  “Innocence alone is a fragile shield.” Raoul spat. “Roger drowned but was drinking with me earlier that night. Many saw us together. No one saw us part.”

  “His death was called an accident.”

  “A man, so fearful of the sea, does not go out in a boat, particularly when the winds are high. Few believe he died by chance. Most conclude he drowned himself, although they choose not to say so aloud out of respect for my father. If men like you suggest murder, many will see the logic of that, look at me, and sagely nod their heads.”

  Hugh knew he did not have long to probe further. The waves now hit the beach with crashing force. “Gervase fell from the window of the keep. You could not be accused of that.”

  “Earlier that day, he had sent a servant to me with a message. The accounting rolls showed a questionable loan made to me, one I had never repaid. He required an explanation. Since I had never received such a loan, I was eager to see him, but he fell from the wall before I could. The servant has probably spread this news of my assumed misconduct.”

  Hugh groaned. “Umfrey. How could you have murdered him?”

  “I visited him in the chapel. I shouted that I wished to do horrible things to him and, when a servant appeared, told him who I was, although I had no desire to hurt my brother. My intent was to give Umfrey confidence that I had not come to murder him, but those ill-advised words will be remembered otherwise now. As you see, I am implicated in them all.”

  “Have you witnesses to your whereabouts at the times of these deaths?”

  “My lack of the usual sins condemns me. I whore, but not often. I drink, but rarely to excess. As for companions, I find my own company most pleasurable and claim few friends. Of those, I would safely turn my back on none.”

  Despite the sting of the ropes, growing numbness in his legs, and the approaching tides, Hugh forced a brief smile. “Adam committed only one transgression in Eden: he ate an apple. A wise man cultivates at least a minor vice, involving potential witnesses, if he ever expects to be accused of murder.”

  Raoul drew his sword again and pointed the tip at the knight’s throat. “And you face death with a merry wit.”

  “I do not think you will kill me. If I am wrong, God will see my soul soon enough. I also doubt you would kill your brothers, especially in the ways they have died. You remind me of your father, another who stands apart from the crowd and holds to his own counsel. He is no courtier, choosing to use the blunt word and direct act rather than win men’s hearts with sweetened phrases. Had you wanted to murder your brothers, you would have finished the bothersome task long before your father came home and greeted him as the unquestioned heir.”

  “Comparing me to my father was clever, Sir Hugh. The boy I once was would be delighted. The man is not swayed, however, and shall not untie you.”

  Hugh shifted, trying not to hear the sea, and prayed he had time for another ploy. “Some fear that your father killed Umfrey and would have slain you, had you not escaped. He prefers Leonel as heir.”

  Raoul lowered his sword but said nothing.

  The broken waves hissed as they slipped across the sand outside the cave.

  “Surely this tale is untrue,” Raoul whispered. The young man’s face was softened by the shadows. “You know my father better than any of us.”

  Raoul is not so far removed from boyhood, Hugh thought with compassion, hearing tears in the youth’s whispered voice. The fact of his father’s indifference to him as a child was hard enough to bear. That his father might long to slaughter him was a cruelty
beyond any son’s comprehension. “Your father is a hard man,” Hugh said, “but he accepts what God saw fit to give him as sons. He would no more murder the offspring of his loins than he would castrate himself. Aye, he loves his nephew, but he wanted Sir Leonel to earn his own inheritance in Outremer.”

  Raoul stared for a long time at the hole in the ceiling of the cave. The light from it had grown dim, as if a fast-approaching storm had banished it.

  Hugh grew impatient and began to plead again for release.

  Raoul looked down at the knight. “There is something I have not mentioned to anyone,” he said, ignoring the new appeal. “I have decided to confide in you because someone must consider the implications and report them to my father. As you surely understand, I cannot do this.”

  Hugh slid backward. The stones at his back were jagged. Were they sharp enough to cut his bonds?

  Raoul saw his intent. “You cannot free yourself that way.” He lifted the sword.

  The knight tensed for the blow.

  “I shall not cut your throat. I’ll loosen your bonds but not cut them through. I must flee on your horse with enough time to avoid capture. As you noted, the tide will soon be in, but you can find safety on the ledges above if you climb high enough.”

  Hugh swallowed the lump in his throat. “Quickly, then. What troubles you?”

  “I have seen lights in this cove. A soldier noted them as well and told his sergeant. A party of men was sent out and returned without finding anything of note. Later, I heard the soldier claim the lights had been Satan’s liegemen, dancing in the storm winds with the souls of drowned sailors.”

  “You think otherwise?”

  “I have confessed my heresy and heard the Church’s argument from our dead priest. Despite doing penance, my heart remains certain that the Devil has no cause to lure our souls when he owns the world and all mortals on it.” He waited. “You do not gasp in horror?”

  Hugh was disinclined to a lengthy theological debate. “Nay,” he replied. “But I am a soldier, not a priest.”

  Raoul squatted close to Hugh and gestured toward the chests on the ledges above their heads. “The lights were not imps. They were torches, brought by smugglers who carried goods from boats and stored the treasure in those chests until the items could be hauled away. Valuable, some of it. I found a large gold cross dropped near one chest. Smuggling’s a fine trade, or so I hear.”

  Hugh frowned. “How long has this been going on?”

  “After my father’s return. I haven’t witnessed this often, but this is not the season for sailing small boats. The gales are fierce.”

  “You think Baron Herbert might be involved?”

  “I believe him to be innocent. He brought back much wealth from his time in Outremer. What need has he for smuggling and the dangers, especially in bad weather? Greed has never been one of his vices, and he will be horrified that such activity is taking place on his lands.”

  “How did you discover this?” Hugh tossed his head toward the ledges.

  “I was curious. Not many apparently know the place where we all once played.” His smile was thin. “The soldiers never thought of it, but a large rock now lies against the entry, hiding the entry from any casual observer.”

  “Why not bring this knowledge to your father?”

  “What reason did I have to think he would believe me? He has always greeted me with contempt.”

  “Tell him now!”

  “And hang for taking the chance? As I have already said, I have no good argument in my defense. Perhaps the perpetrator of these murders will be found some day and I can return, cleared of all guilt.”

  A rattling of stones caught their attention.

  Hugh grew numb with fear. Had the sea reached the cave entrance already?

  Raoul spun around.

  A high-pitched whine split the air.

  The son cried out and fell. His sword flew out of his hand, landing far from Hugh.

  A man chuckled. “How much better that this lying wretch be killed while attempting to flee.”

  Sir Leonel emerged into the pale light, stepped over the body of Raoul, and grinned down at the vulnerable Hugh.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Thomas skidded and fell, sliding head first down the remaining path to the beach. Struggling to get on his feet, he felt the damp soaking through his robes. Had he ever been this covered with mud, even as a boy? He shivered.

  His teeth chattering with the cold, he looked around. The cutting salt mist twisted like a spiteful imp, driving the chill deeper into his bones. He squinted to see more clearly, but it was a noise that caught his attention. He looked back toward the cliff.

  A dark-colored mare was tethered to a piece of driftwood. The sea lapped close to her hooves, and her brown eyes betrayed enough white to suggest she was not pleased with her situation. Another horse of light coat was on higher ground, close to the cliffs. Less concerned with the hissing surf, this beast snuffled at the ground in search of edible grass.

  Taking pity on the nervous mare, Thomas approached her with soft words and a gentle touch. Calmer, she let him lead her to the high rocky ground where he loosely wrapped the reins around a dead branch. “If the sea comes too close, you can still escape,” he whispered and was rewarded with a nudge of her nose.

  From the vantage point of this greater elevation, he could now see two sets of footprints in the sand. The deeper one surely belonged to Leonel, who must have just passed through, but the fainter set could mark anyone’s path. Hugh or Raoul might be the most likely guesses, but other tracks, closer to the water, could have been washed away by the incoming tide. Who knows how many men have come here, Thomas thought. If others had, where did they all go?

  Returning to the lower beach, he followed the clear footprints as far as he could. When the impressionable sand gave way to gravel, less battered by the sea and nearer the cliff, the tracks disappeared. Protecting his eyes from the salt spray, he gazed ahead and saw that the beach quickly narrowed around the curve that formed the remainder of the cove. He watched the waves exploding against the precipice and knew that no man would have recently traveled that route.

  Thomas next scrutinized the nearest cliff. The rock face was wet, and there were no visible toeholds that might help a man climb that steep and dangerous ascent. Even if there had been, only fools or the desperate would try to do so on such a day.

  Contrary to legends, he knew that men did not just disappear into the ground and asked himself if there was a cave, hidden from view. Slowly turning, he searched for evidence of one close by.

  Stones, hammered loose over time by winds, had tumbled to the beach, shattering as they hit the earth. Although a few of the rock piles were high, Thomas saw no evidence of a hiding place. But nearer the precipice, he did notice an outcropping of crumbling rock that might once have been a bridge to the island. A fractured boulder rested against the spot where the ledge was still joined to the cliff.

  The placement was odd, he thought. The rock was broken, but the only other stone large enough to have once been part of it lay some distance away. Considering size and weight, such large fragments should have remained closer together. As he hurried toward the leaning boulder, he saw what appeared to be a well-trodden path through the rubble. Others had been there before him.

  Soon he saw a small gap between stone and cliff face. This might be a cave entrance. Cautiously, he edged closer. There was a narrow space, just wide enough for a man.

  He slipped through.

  Until his eyes grew used to the diminished light, it was unsafe to go farther. He stopped, pressed his back against the rock wall, and shut his eyes. As the pounding of the surf faded, he began to hear other sounds.

  Did a man just laugh?

  Thomas opened his eyes, extended his hand, and crept along the solid rock until he felt nothing. Hoping he had only reached the end of the narrow entrance and that some deep chasm did not lie at his feet, he cautiously reached out with hand and foot. The
ground was solid, and the rock against his back sheered off to the right.

  He had had been right. The boulder hid a cave.

  But he did not know what lay beyond. Convinced he had heard a man’s voice, he decided it was wiser not to alert anyone to his presence just yet. He held his breath and listened.

  “You look like a trussed chicken, Sir Hugh!”

  Was that Sir Leonel’s voice? Thomas thought it was.

  “Untie me.”

  The man replied, but his words were inaudible.

  That first voice did belong to Leonel, Thomas decided, and the other man was obviously his prioress’ brother. Why was the latter bound, and who had done it?

  “You have killed Raoul. He was the one who murdered his brothers. Why not free me?”

  “Why should I? Your question was foolish, my lord, but you are arrogant like most men born with rank and wealth.” He snorted. “God may usually favor you, but you presume too much on his preference.”

  “Hard words, Leonel, and ones I do not understand. If I have offended you, reveal my transgression and I shall heal the insult. If you resent my birth, you have no cause. As Baron Herbert’s nephew, you hold rank enough and have gained the esteem of men, honor, and a king’s praise in Outremer for your courage.”

  “Yet when you spoke, the Lord Edward listened and once dropped a jeweled ring into your hand. Aye, he knighted me but never otherwise showed me favor. I was only a landless knight, not a baron’s heir.”

  “Your uncle’s regard…”

  “Meaningless. He smiled on me but never gave any gift of coin or plate. He took all my service to him as his due.”

  “He gave you the means to earn your own renown and wealth: weapons, armor and horse. As for the king’s regard, the Lord Edward has always honored loyalty and courage. He would find you a place in his court.”

  “And I would spend my life in servitude, never standing above other men as my talents warrant. I do not lack for wit, my lord.”