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

by Lisa Shea

  The Lady could soon be dead.

  Alicia looked around, steeling her resolve. She had to get free somehow. Whatever it took, she had to get back to the keep and warn everyone what was about to happen.

  She looked desperately around her. To the ash in the fireplace. To the threadbare blanket on the bed. To the pottery bowls on the shelf …

  Faint hope welled within her. The pottery bowls. If she could get one to break, she’d have a shard that could be sharp enough to cut through the rope.

  But how?

  There was nothing at all within reach to throw. And with her chair solidly tied to the table, she couldn’t move to get to anything. All she had was what was already on her.

  Her shoes.

  She dug the toes of one shoe against the heel of the other and, with effort, managed to drag the shoe free of her foot. Reversing positions got off the other shoe.

  But now what?

  She stared up at the shelf. It seemed miles away. But she could see how, like the rest of this cottage, it was barely holding together. The wooden pegs beneath it were rotting away. It might take only a gentle knock to send it tumbling.

  She had two chances to do it.

  She hooked her toes into one of her shoes and let it dangle there. Then she tilted her chair back as much as she could against the table, to give her a better angle. All she had to do was toss the shoe up against the shelf. If she got the angle just right … and kicked just hard enough …

  She let it fly.

  The shoe arched up … up … over …

  It missed the shelf and came clattering down along the far wall. It could have been in Wales, for as much use as it was to her now.

  She could barely breathe as she looked at her one remaining shoe.

  It was her last chance.

  Perhaps Lady Bloodworth and her innocent child’s last chance.

  She carefully hooked her toes into the shoe. She leaned back, her eyes fixed on the shelf with its pottery bowls.

  She aimed …

  She held her breath …

  She launched.

  The shoe flew, straight as an arrow, and slammed into the leftmost support. The peg burst into shards, the shelf teetered, and a cascade of pottery bowls tumbled toward the ground.

  They burst apart in a shower of edges; Alicia turned her head and closed her eyes as tiny needles drove against her.

  Alicia’s heart thundered in relief as the dust settled. She carefully looked back to the results. There, near her right foot, was just the perfect piece. It was just longer than her middle finger and curved into a sickle shape. Its edge gleamed with sharpness.

  She looked down at her bare feet. She was fortunate that she didn’t wear socks, as the noble Bloodworths did. It made it easier for her to grasp the shard between her large and second toe.

  And then she set to work.

  The process was tedious and awkward. She slipped so many times that both feet were soon slick with blood. She resolutely put the pain out of her mind. There was no other option. Either she got herself free or innocents would die.

  Strand by strand she cut the rope free.

  At last she strained with her legs, pulling … twisting …

  Snap.

  Her legs flew apart, searing with pain. Her howl echoed off the walls and she lay back against the chair, her breath coming in long draws. It was several moments before she was able to focus again.

  Her hands were still tied.

  She looked around frantically for the pottery shard. Thank Mother Mary, the piece had not gone far. She was able to draw it back up between her shaking toes.

  She brought her foot up and across, as if she was going to sit cross-legged. Then she lowered her head down. She was just barely able to take the shard within her lips.

  Now she had to get to her hands.

  With her legs free, she was able to push and twist to get the chair at an angle to the table. The strain pulled at her arms, nearly wrenching them out of her sockets, but she was able to pull her bound hands into a position a foot below her mouth. If she could just drop at the exact … right … moment …

  There.

  The shard landed in her shaking hand.

  She breathed out in relief.

  And she began again.

  It was harder this time. She could not see what she was doing and the bites into her wrists seemed to come nearly as often as the cuts into the rope. She prayed that she would not sever a tendon and make her hand unusable. But there was no other option. She had to get free of these bonds. And time was passing … passing …

  Her hands separated a half inch.

  Strength coursed through her and she sawed, pulled, cut, yanked, growled, and strained …

  Her hands burst free, the pottery shard flying across the room.

  She fell back against the chair in exhausted relief, every part of her body aching in agony. For a long moment she just sprawled there, each limb limp.

  At last she carefully drew her arms around to her front, almost afraid to see the damage she had wrought. Both wrists were dripping in blood, looking as if wild boars had gnawed them nearly through.

  She had no time to care.

  She held in the cry of agony as she pushed herself painfully to her feet. She glanced at her shoes, but they were littered with jagged shards. Precious time would be wasted trying to get them fully free.

  Time she did not have.

  She staggered to the door, yanked it open, and stumbled out into the rain.

  She had barely noted the path when Nathan had dragged her here, and she prayed against all hope that she was heading in the right direction. She pushed her way through brambles, dug her way up a slope …

  There – the outcropping of rock.

  Determination fired within her. She would do it. Whatever it took, she would make it back to the keep.

  Her hands and feet blazed with daggered agony, but it only reminded her of how much was at stake.

  The frigid stream. The icy waters did a good job of numbing the pain, and she pushed on even harder. For the slightest delay, the briefest of pauses, could mean the end of innocent lives.

  The woods seemed endless. Had she gotten turned around by the shadows and gullies? Had she missed the keep entirely? Dusk was enveloping the world in even deeper gloom, and the rain poured down, unceasing …

  A glimmer of light.

  Fresh energy coursed through her, and she hammered on even harder, holding the skirts of her dress up in her battered hands. There, through the trees, she could make out the grey walls. She thundered out of the trees, racing across the clearing toward the main gates.

  Two guards were standing there, and as she drew close she could see that one was Roger. She all but collapsed into his arms.

  His voice was tight with alarm. “My God! Alicia!”

  She struggled to get breath behind her words. “Dylan … Need Dylan …”

  He didn’t blink an eye. He turned Alicia over to the second guard and lit into a run, heading back into the twisting streets of the lower keep. Alicia was on her knees now, every breath drawing shooting pain into her feet, her hands, her aching sides. She gathered up every last ounce of energy remaining to her. She had to stay conscious until Dylan returned to her.

  The hammering of feet, and Dylan was there before her, his eyes going from her blood-soaked feet to her streaming hands. “God’s Teeth! What in the world –”

  “We have to get to Lady Bloodworth,” she cut him off. “Before it’s too late.”

  Dylan didn’t ask another word. He swept her up into his arms and then he and Roger were off at a trot, making their way up the curving roads. Alicia felt the call of exhaustion, but she clenched her hands, sending shooting pain through them in order to remain awake. She could not fail Lady Bloodworth. Not now, when she was so close.

  They tumbled into the main keep and streamed up the steps. They drew to a stop before her bedroom door.

  Dylan and Roger’s breath was coming
in long heaves from their run, but over it Alicia could hear another sound.

  The sharp cry of a woman, quickly muffled.

  Dylan and Roger took one look at each other, and then Dylan rolled Alicia to the ground. Both men drew their swords.

  They burst through the door.

  Chapter 30

  Alicia rolled to her hands and knees and looked through the doorway, her heart in her throat.

  Were they too late?

  To her surprise, it seemed that only Dylan and Roger were in the room, swords drawn. Their gaze was fixed on the bed.

  She swung her head …

  Nathan and Lady Bloodworth were there, tangled in the sheets, stark naked. It was suddenly clear to Alicia that the sounds she had heard were not ones of panic or danger.

  Lady Bloodworth drew herself up, the sheets held to her breast. She stared at Dylan as if she’d seen a ghost. “Dylan? You’re alive?”

  Dylan’s mouth opened, but thundering footsteps from the hall caught the Lady’s attention and she waved a hand. Her voice was icy and sharp. “Get out of here, now, both of you, before –”

  Lord Bloodworth skidded to a stop above Alicia in the doorway, his grey hair askew. “What in the world is –”

  His eyes tracked to his wife and youngest brother. His mouth hung open in shock.

  Nathan climbed out of bed, throwing back his shoulders with pride. “That’s right, dear brother. I have at last succeeded where you failed. For years you have tried to put life into this woman – but you were too weak to do the deed. Well, you should know before your head rests on the executioner’s block – it will be my son who inherits the family fortune. My son who controls this keep and all its lands.”

  Lord Bloodworth was having trouble taking this all in. He looked to his wife in utter disbelief. “Mary, you’re … you’re pregnant?”

  She gathered herself up with shining determination. “Yes, I am. And all will forgive me when they find out the depths of your sins. I will be praised for ensuring the family line continues with the only honorable man in the family. You and Richard will soon be corpses left to feed maggots.”

  Lord Bloodworth was now white. “What do you mean?”

  More guards had gathered in the hall now, and Lady Bloodworth spoke to her audience. “You two, hold Lord Bloodworth. You there, go find and hold Richard. The rest of you, examine Lord Bloodworth and Richard’s rooms. Look for documents which prove they are traitors to King John.”

  Lord Bloodworth sagged in shock. “It isn’t true. I tell you, it isn’t true.”

  Two guards glanced at each other nervously, then moved closer to Lord Bloodworth – not touching him, but clearly keeping an eye on him. The others scurried off on their tasks.

  Nathan strode up to his brother. “All those years you treated me like dirt. Like I should go off and hide in a monastery somewhere. But look at me now, Xavier. I’m the one with a son on the way. I’m the one who will own the keep. I have everything – and you have nothing. Nothing.”

  One of the guards returned holding a scroll. His face was as pale as parchment. “I found this, My Lady. In the bottom of Lord Bloodworth’s chest.”

  Lord Bloodworth wavered. “I’ve never seen that before in my life.”

  His wife ordered, “Read it.”

  The guard unrolled the top. “It’s a message about King John. It details his troop locations, their planned movements …”

  Another guard came up behind him, holding additional scrolls.

  A voice called from the stairs, “We have Richard!”

  Lady Bloodworth rose imperiously from the bed, the sheets wrapped around her like a Caesar’s robes. “Put both men into the basement cells. Nobody is to go anywhere near them. Send word to the Sheriff. The traitors will be tried, legal and proper, and justice will be carried out.”

  Her gaze swept the room. “Now leave us. All of you.”

  Dylan immediately turned and swept Alicia up in his arms, Roger at his side. They carried her down the stairs, turning at the main hall to continue out the front doors. Alicia didn’t have the strength to ask where they were going. She was still trying to take in what she had just seen.

  The soft whinny of horses, the sweet smell of straw, and she realized they were in the stables. Roger glanced around before closing the door behind them. Then he spread out his cloak over a section of loose hay. Dylan gently lay her down on top of it, his eyes going again to her hands and feet. “We’ll need fresh water, soap, and clean bandages.”

  Roger raced off to gather up the supplies. Dylan gently drew a hand along Alicia’s brow. “What happened, Alicia? I saw you go into the pantry – but you never emerged. Then the blonde maid passed by, muttering that she couldn’t find you anywhere. I turned the keep upside-down, but you had vanished. I was just about to search the lower keep when Roger came running.”

  “It was Nathan,” Alicia ground out. “He saw me making the chamomile tea and realized it was for Lady Bloodworth. He hauled me off to a cottage in the woods to keep me out of the way. At the time I thought he meant to harm Lady Bloodworth and the child. I had no idea –”

  Alicia shook her head, the enormity of it soaking in to her. “So the conspirators were both older brothers. Lord Bloodworth and Richard together?”

  Roger came back to her side, handing her a flask. “It’s mead. You’ll need a mouthful of this to help while we bandage up your wounds.”

  She took down her drink, then leaned back on the hay.

  The men set to work.

  She knew they were trying their best to be gentle, but every movement sent shards of pain coursing through her body. Tears streamed down her face with each action. She almost wished she could pass out, but there was just too much going on. To think, Lord Bloodworth and his brother Richard were responsible for it all! Certainly, Richard had spoken out numerous times about King John’s abuses of power. Richard could easily feel that even the cold-blooded French king would be superior to King John’s destructive behavior.

  Lord Bloodworth had seemed more interested in protecting his family holdings – but perhaps he felt King John’s continual taxes and warfare would destroy what remained of the Bloodworth heritage? Alicia had heard enough similar mutterings around Canterbury to know that Lord Bloodworth would not be alone in holding that view. It seemed quite a number of nobles were tired of the high taxes and coarse actions of their King.

  A sharp dagger of pain jagged through her foot, and she arched high against it, wrangling in the scream with every ounce of her self-control.

  Roger’s voice was low. “I am sorry about that. I’m doing my best to be gentle, but these injuries run deep.”

  Dylan’s growl could cut metal. “Nathan did this to you?”

  She shook her head, weaving in and out of consciousness. “I did it to myself.”

  Both men stopped and stared at her in shock.

  “I was tied,” she expanded. “I think Nathan just wanted me quiet while he and Lady Bloodworth figured out what to do next. But because I thought he was going to kill Lady Bloodworth, I was frantic to get free. I had to hack through my bonds with a broken piece of pottery.”

  Roger’s voice was a tight mutter. “And instead we find them in bed together.” He gave a choking laugh. “And who knows, she could be right. When the courts find that her husband and brother-in-law were engaged in treasonous activity, they may laud her for bringing the two to justice. If both men are then killed, she has plenty of time to marry Nathan before she gives birth. And, with that, she will produce a legitimate heir for the family. Everything will go to those two.”

  He shook his head. “I never would have thought it of Lord Bloodworth. In all the years I’ve known him he has been honorable and decent. If he had issues with King John he would have addressed them through legal channels. I never would have imagined …”

  His eyes dropped.

  Dylan’s voice was low. “If he is guilty, he has received the ultimate in punishments. His wife is with his ow
n brother and she will bear that man’s child. All of his lands will go to those two. He will be held up to all as a traitor and then killed. There can be no worse fate.”

  Alicia faded in and out, the images blurring, realigning, and reforming. Her voice barely had breath. “And Lady Bloodworth gets everything she could have wanted.”

  Dylan finished wrapping a soft cloth around her hand. “There. I think you are –”

  Alicia sat up, her eyes wide, and she gasped.

  Dylan leant forward. “What is it? Was that too tight?”

  She shook her head, her eyes on his.

  “Lady Bloodworth knew you by sight.”

  Chapter 31

  The two men looked at each other in surprise. Alicia leapt into the space. “She said it in her room. After you two had burst in. I know it was chaotic, and a lot was happening, but I heard her distinctly. Dylan, she looked at you – and she spoke your name.”

  His brow creased. “Maybe she had heard you or Roger call me by that name.”

  She shook her head. “No, Neither of you had said anything at all as we raced in to her rescue.” She gave a coughing laugh. “Rescue, indeed. The woman didn’t seem to need rescuing at all.”

  Roger looked with concern to Dylan. “But Lady Bloodworth was here at the keep when you were in London. She wasn’t at the farewell party. And the assault at the barn took place on the way to this keep. That barn was where you supposedly died. So when the rest of us arrived at the keep, Dylan was already thought to be dead. Lady Bloodworth never saw him at all.”

  Alicia nodded. “And she would hardly recognize you just from a description, given the state you’re in.”

  Awareness suddenly flooded her, and she rounded on Roger. “Wait! When I arrived at the main gates, and called for Dylan, you didn’t blink an eye. You raced off to fetch him.”

  He gave a quiet smile. “You somehow weren’t aware of the way Dylan’s eyes would linger on you. The look on his face when you would enter a room. It was one thing to think of him as simply a besotted stranger – but when I saw the two of you walking along the wall, it was clearly more than that. He was yours, body and soul.”