Seeing a Ghost - a Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 13)

by Lisa Shea

  She shook her head with determination. “No.”

  He blinked. “No?”

  She crossed her arms before her. “There is no way I am leaving. I stay here and I help you end this, for once and for all.”

  His mouth turned down. “It’s too dangerous. I insist you –”

  “There’s no way that I’m –”

  An amused chuckle came from behind them.

  Alicia spun.

  Lord Bloodworth was smiling down at them both, his head slowly shaking from side to side.

  Chapter 23

  Alicia sprung to her feet, shielding Dylan from Lord Bloodworth’s view. Her throat went bone dry. How much had Lord Bloodworth heard? Was he responsible for all that had happened? What could he do to them? The realization speared through her that she was completely at Lord Bloodworth’s mercy. They were deep within his keep. Every soldier on the grounds and manning the walls would do his bidding without hesitation.

  She brushed down her dress, her mind racing for an explanation. “I was just telling Owen here that he needed to start walking on that lame leg of his if he wants to build up the strength in it. I said we could walk circuits around the keep’s exterior. He was trying to tell me that it’s too dangerous out there – that there are bandits in the woods.”

  Lord Bloodworth smiled fondly at her. “My wife said that you’d need a lost kitten or hurt duckling to draw you out of your gloom. It seems that you’ve found one.” He nodded to Dylan. “Not to worry, Owen. Our lands are safe for miles in each direction. My guards are the finest in the land. As long as you stay within sight of the curtain wall, no harm shall befall you or your lovely savior here.”

  Alicia nodded in agreement. “Then it’s settled, Owen. We shall take a walk each morning and afternoon. In between I can teach you how to spin, here in the great hall. That way you can help to earn your supper. By the time spring arrives, you’ll be healthy enough to head home. How does that sound?”

  Alicia could see that Dylan would have liked to say quite a lot about that idea. However, with Lord Bloodworth watching, she was pleased that he gave an obedient nod.

  She had a feeling she’d get an earful during their morning walk.

  She grinned down at him. “Then it’s settled. Now I can finally sleep soundly, knowing we have a plan of action for you.”

  Lord Bloodworth put out an arm. “That is wonderful to hear, my darling. Come, let me escort you back to your room. My wife will be thrilled to hear that you are feeling better.”

  She glanced down at Dylan. “Sleep well. We’ll have a lot to do tomorrow, you and I.”

  The blaze of emotion in his eyes brought a smile to her lips.

  Lord Bloodworth moved with her back across the hall. “Shall we see you at breakfast, then?”

  Her grin grew. If there was questioning to be done, that would be the perfect place to start.

  “Absolutely.”

  *

  Smiles greeted her from all sides as she stepped into the glowing sunshine of the breakfast meal. She could have been a princess, with the way all eyes followed her with warm encouragement. But there was only one set of eyes she sought out.

  He was there, at the lowest table with the stableboys, a bowl of gruel untouched before him. His eyes held hers, and she could see the message clearly ringing in them.

  Return to Canterbury.

  She gave him a brief nod in welcome, well aware that anything further would be seen by every person in the room. Then she turned and walked toward the head table.

  Lady Bloodworth beamed as if she had planned the whole recovery in precise detail. “Come, come. We’ve made a seat for you between my husband and Richard. It is so good to have you joining us. And the color is returning to your cheeks!”

  Alicia settled into the chair and looked over the wealth of food options before her. There was thinly sliced salmon, strips of bacon, an egg tart, fresh bread, and much more.

  Her stomach began growling, and she chuckled. It was as if she hadn’t eaten in months, and her body wanted to make up time.

  She was just reaching for a second serving of bacon when a snippet of conversation from her right caught her ear. Richard snapped at Nathan, “And I tell you that those damned Crusaders are –”

  She turned with interest.

  Richard reddened and put down his knife. “I’m so sorry, Alicia. You haven’t been joining us for meals for so long that I forgot that –”

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “My heart has had time to heal. And maybe it’s time that I learn more about the events which took him from me.” She bit her lip. “I know when we first met, at the party in London, that I tried to defend the Crusaders. But I realize now that I may have been naïve. I would rather know the whole truth, whatever it is.”

  Richard beamed with satisfaction. “As well you should. You have paid the ultimate price, after all, for the foolhardy commands of an elite few.” He popped a piece of sausage in his mouth. “I do not blame the soldiers, after all. They are, by and large, honorable men going on a quest which, they have been told, is ordained by God himself. If they are then used as tools of infamy, the blame of that falls squarely on the generals.”

  Alicia allowed her mouth to go round. “What do you mean?”

  He leant forward, his eyes shining with feeling. “You’ve heard, I imagine, of the murder of Pierre de Castelnau in the south of France. You’ve been told how this innocent man was brutally hewn down by the near-pagan heretics, the Cathars. How the only solution was a massive, sweeping war to wipe the Cathars off the face of our green Earth.”

  She allowed a frown to crease her forehead. “But our priest said we were going to save the Cathars. To convert them.”

  Richard gave a cynical smile. “Oh, the call to arms was fine tuned based on the nature of the congregation, to be sure. Some regions wanted to hear of glorious battle. Others of gentle conversion. Whatever it took, whatever form that message was twisted into, the end result was the same. A flood of unquestioning soldiers was sent to wipe out the Cathars once and for all.”

  Alicia paled. It was one thing to think of her Dylan as a noble warrior in the cause of justice. It was another to think he, and countless others like him, were being used for rampant bloodshed.

  Her voice was low. “And you’re saying that Pierre de Castelnau’s death was not the real reason for all of this killing?”

  Richard was on a roll and clearly enjoying his lecture. “Exactly. The Pope and France’s King Phillippe II barely cared a whit about that one man. What they did care about was gaining control of lands which were strategically valuable and full of resources. Those pesky Cathars were inconveniently in the way. With the timely death of Pierre, the Pope and the King were handed a perfect excuse to launch a fresh Crusade. One which gave them a free hand to do whatever atrocities came to mind in order to reach their goals.”

  His brow darkened. “And they didn’t waste any time, either. In 1209 the forces of good made clear their intentions. They massacred nearly twenty thousand men, women, and children in the city of Beziers.”

  Alicia’s throat closed up. “There must be some mistake.”

  He shook his head. “No mistake. The Pope and King wanted to lay waste to the Cathars and reclaim that territory for themselves.”

  Alicia’s brow creased. “You spoke of this at the party. That there was a massacre?”

  His fingers clenched. “Yes. I agree that there should have been justice for the slain priest. If there were troublemakers, those men should have been rounded up and tried. But it should have been an honorable action, with our troops fully aware of what they did. Not these inhumanities. Not the slaughter of innocents. France’s King – and the Pope – have become twisted with their power.”

  Nathan leaned over from Richard’s other side. “Don’t forget our own King John. He’s hardly innocent in all of this.”

  Richard shot him a glance. “You should be more careful about what you say, brother. He is sti
ll our king.”

  Nathan took a long drink of his mead, his apple-cheeks shining red. “We are in our family home, and our guards line our walls. Even if King John himself wanted to move against us, I’d like to see him try.”

  Lord Bloodworth’s voice rumbled from my other side. “Nathan, there’ll be none of that talk at our table. King John is our King, and we’ve all sworn an oath of fealty to him. Your opinions can stay within your head – or you can leave the table.”

  Nathan grumbled into silence.

  Lord Bloodworth looked over at Richard. “You and I need to have a talk. If you’re done?”

  Richard nodded to his brother, then smiled at Alicia. “I am glad to see you are recovering at last. Enjoy your day.” Then the two brothers rose and headed off to Lord Bloodworth’s study.

  Nathan stabbed angrily at a last piece of salmon before stalking toward the stairs.

  Lady Bloodworth smiled and came to stand at Alicia’s side. “Don’t you mind them. They’ve been like that since they were young. I wonder, sometimes, how they have managed not to kill each other, given how different their political views are. But somehow they manage to find a way.” She gave Alicia a wink. “In any case, I hear you and your patient will be taking a walk for the morning. Would you like me to ask Roger or one of the other guards to lend you a hand?”

  Alicia shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think Owen is still quite shy. It might be better if I kept this simple as we began. Or he might refuse to go at all.”

  Lady Bloodworth grinned. “Of course, of course. Best of luck to you, Nurse Alicia!”

  She waved a hand to two of the maids, and in a moment the trio was heading back toward the kitchens.

  Alicia walked down the length of the emptying hall to where Dylan sat. She looked down at him with a gentle smile. “Shall we?

  He looked as if his patience had been sorely tried, with the speed with which he rose. She held in a chuckle, but it faded as he reached for a thick, wooden branch he was using as a cane. It came to her that these walks were not just a cover for them to be able to talk.

  He really was seriously injured.

  Dylan followed her gaze and gave her a reassuring look. He nudged his head. “I will be fine. Come. Let us begin.”

  She moved slowly, staying at his side as they put on their cloaks, left the hall, and descended the front steps. They did not speak as they carefully made their way through the twisting streets of the small village. It seemed as if hours had passed by the time they reached the front gates.

  Alicia sighed in relief. Roger was not on duty at the moment. He had not recognized Dylan on their first encounter, but she did not trust in that luck to hold out. If Roger had the opportunity to gaze on Dylan in the full sun, the bandages might not be enough of a disguise.

  She nodded in greeting to the guards. “We will be taking a walk around the circumference of the outer walls. We’ll be sure to stay close.”

  One of the guards smiled at her. “Enjoy your walk – and watch out for the rabbit holes. They’ve got a few of them along the northern stretch.”

  She nodded. “We shall. Thank you.”

  The air was crisp, and the grass beneath their feet had a gentle crunch to it, telling of approaching winter. Alicia wanted with all her heart to fold her hand into his, but she was well aware of watching eyes from far above. The guards might not be able to hear their whispered conversation, but they would be able to see any motion.

  She had to ensure nothing gave the guards cause to report back to the Bloodworths.

  She glanced sideways at Dylan and kept her voice low. “Richard spent breakfast informing me of the evils of the Crusades. How our men slaughtered tens of thousands of innocents, all so the French King could regain control of the land.” She swallowed. “Was any of that true?”

  His look became distant. “I’m afraid that what Richard says holds some truth. I met many Cathars while in France. They were simple people, like ourselves, Farmers. Merchants. Wives. Children. They had no notion of politics or Kings or Popes. They simply wanted to grow their grains and keep their homes safe. The things we did …” His voice grew hoarse and he looked away. “I am not proud of our orders.”

  It took all of Alicia’s strength not to fold him into her arms, not to hold him tight. She tried to pour that love and understanding into her voice. “You went into your vow with the noblest of intentions. You cannot be held responsible for what King Phillippe II and Pope Innocent III twisted your vow into.”

  His eyes shone. “But I had to make it right. And I found a way.”

  Alicia turned to him in surprise. “What did you do?”

  He glanced around, but there was nobody else in sight on the ground level. Up on the curtain wall, the nearest guard was at the far corner, barely within yelling distance. Even so, Dylan dropped his voice to the barest of whispers.

  “I became a spy.”

  Chapter 24

  Alicia stared at him in shock. “You’re a spy?”

  He nodded. “For King John.”

  Her brow creased. “But you were on a Crusade for the Pope. And the Pope had excommunicated King John back in 1209.”

  “Exactly true,” he agreed. “By the time I left for France in 1212, King John was preparing to launch an attack to reclaim Normandy. At the same time, King Phillippe II was planning an invasion of England.”

  Alicia wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. “Life seemed so peaceful in our quiet corner of Wales. We had our pig pens. Our neatly tended fields. I had little idea that we could be invaded or that our own King could be planning to invade France.”

  He gave a wry smile. “That is usually what happens. The local populations are concerned with harvesting enough food or repairing the holes in the roof. Other matters … well, they just belong to a different group of people.”

  She dug her toe into the grass. “But we are the ones who suffer. We break our backs under the burdens of higher taxes, raised to support these invasions. It is our men who are drawn off to fight – and who never return.”

  Tears welled in her eyes.

  Dylan’s voice was hoarse. “Alicia, I’m so sorry.”

  She wiped at her face. “You are back to me, and that is all that matters. So please, go on. The two Kings were preparing to invade each other and the Pope was using King Phillip II to wipe out the Cathars. Or maybe King Phillip II was using the Pope to achieve that same end.”

  He gave a wry smile. “They both were using each other, to mutual gain. And King John, at last, saw the wisdom of a powerful alliance. A year after I departed, in 1213, King John achieved his goals. He gave the Pope what he wanted and in return gained an reversal of the excommunication. The Pope also threw in his forces alongside King John, now turning against King Phillippe II.”

  Alicia shook her head. “In the blink of an eye enemies became friends – and friends became enemies.”

  “Exactly right,” he agreed. “Because of the changes, England and France settled into an uncertain peace. And for the French, this made sense. King Phillippe II could no longer invade England, because he had lost his strongest supporter. He would have enough on his hands controlling the Cathars.”

  He glanced over at Alicia. “But King John, on the other hand, suddenly had a powerful ally. And conquering Normandy became tantalizingly close.”

  It was like hearing about the mythical King Arthur and his round table. It was straight out of myths and legends – but it was shockingly real.

  Alicia looked over as they walked. “So what happened next?”

  Dylan’s mouth quirked up. “King John decided he would invade France, of course. He thought this was the perfect time to launch his offensive. But he needed information for this. He needed to know what France’s forces were up to. He didn’t trust that they would abide by the peace treaty, of course, since he, himself, was about to break it.”

  He gave a Gallic shrug, and Alicia almost smiled at how thoroughly his disguise had beco
me a part of him.

  He went on, “I was already in France. I had become familiar with its accents and ways. I’d gained a fair amount of renown for my strategies and efforts. Prince John sent word, and I was brought on to the task.”

  Her gaze shadowed. “So the first step was to have the actual Dylan killed in battle?”

  He quietly nodded. “I’m so sorry, Alicia. If it had been any other order, I would have tried to fight it. But this came from my King – and that is a mandate I must follow.”

  She breathed out. There had been a reason. One beyond reproach – one which finally, after all this time, connected together in a way that made sense.

  He made his way carefully along the wall, speaking as he went. “Once the old Dylan had been removed from the scene, I carefully began to build my new identity. I traveled to a port city many miles away, where I was wholly unknown. I soon determined which taverns were used by those who smuggled or traded in illicit goods. At first I would simply spend time there. Listen to rumors. Take on jobs. Slowly but surely I built up a network of contacts.”

  He waved a hand. “February, 1214, and King John sails for France, in part helped by my information. He was thrilled with what I had done for him – but now he wanted more. It seemed that a number of nobles back home in England were becoming quite discontented with his behavior and expenses. King John was becoming nervous. He was absolutely sure that Tibault and Simon had been hired by one such noble to bring in information on England’s troop movements. The King insisted that I get myself attached to those two as a bodyguard, when they brought the details back here to London.”

  The pieces were falling into place. “So that is why you were with them. You were posing as a guard who was anti-English – but in reality you wanted to see who those two would pass their information along to.”

  He nodded. “That was my assignment. With the amount Tibault and Simon had been paid, the hirer had to be someone high up in the English aristocracy. Someone who would benefit greatly if King John failed in France … or perhaps was even killed in action.”