Nicola passed through the hall without anyone taking note of her. Reaching the passageway on the other side, she turned to see if she’d been followed. Distracted, she ran straight into a small page carrying a bucket. The bucket spilled and the boy gave an angry cry. “Watch where you’re going, you stupid wench!”
The next moment, his eyes went wide and he gasped, “Lady!” He gestured. “Your clothing…I didn’t know you.”
She smiled. “It’s all right, Johnny. I’m here to visit Lady Hilary and the children. Do you know where they are?”
Johnny shook his head. “I thought they were in the tower.”
“They’re not. Indeed, it doesn’t look as if they’ve been there for several days. All their things are gone.” The boy gaped at her. She continued, “Something is strange here, and I’m trying to discover what has happened. Please tell no one you saw me.”
The boy nodded.
“Now, go about your business.” She motioned to the nearly empty bucket he carried. “I’m sorry about the water.”
Again the boy nodded.
She gave him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. All will be well.”
After Johnny left, she let out an anguished breath. Hilary and the children had been taken from the tower in secret. That could not be good.
Nicola followed the little-used corridor to the narrow stairs leading down to oubliette opening. At the bottom, it was very dark, and once again, she was without a light. She got down on her hands and knees and searched for the metal grate covering the underground cell.
She found the grate and leaned near to it. Hearing nothing, she brought her face close again and called, “Hilary, are you there?”
Rustling noises made her heart leap into her throat. Then a man’s voice answered. “Who is it? Who’s there?”
Although the voice sounded hoarse and raw, her mind immediately registered it as belonging to Gilbert de Vescy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fawkes opened his eyes and looked blearily around the bedchamber. It seemed as if hours had passed since Alys left. Where was she? Damn her! He hated being so helpless. He eyed the ewer on the table. Nicola usually kept some wine there. Although wine wasn’t what he needed right now, he was desperate for anything to drink.
Using his good arm, he edged himself to the side of the bed. He gritted his teeth against the pain and sat up. When the worst of the pain and dizziness passed, he stood and staggered to the table. Bracing himself against it, he grabbed the ewer, unstoppered it and drank.
The first few swallows were so bitter he almost spit them out. But then he decided he didn’t care. At least it was liquid. He gulped down the rest and immediately regretted it. In seconds the wine seemed go to his head. He grabbed for the table, but his legs failed him and he sank to the floor. For a few moments he lay there. Then he gritted his teeth and tried to stand. He couldn’t.
He told himself he would lie there until he felt a little stronger and then get up. There was no point waiting for Alys or Old Emma. This time he was going to head for the door and make his way downstairs.
****
He was so hot. So thirsty. Fawkes struggled to open his eyes. Gradually the familiar images of the tower room came into view. He was lying on the floor. The bed was near, but so far away. To crawl over and climb onto it seemed an insurmountable task.
But he needed water. His thirst was unbearable. And he was so hot, burning with fever. That must be why his thoughts were so fuzzy and confused. He’d had some sort of dream about Alys, about her telling him that Nicola’s babe hadn’t died but was living at Mordeaux. It had to be a dream. Otherwise it made no sense. Clearly his wits were addled by the fever. But why didn’t anyone come? Old Emma? Reynard? Why had they left him here, lying on the floor, in pain, feverish and desperate for water? Had the castle been attacked? Were they dealing with some other crisis and too intent on it to see to him?
He could feel his strength fading; he feared slipping into delirium. Gritting his teeth, he tried to sit. The pain in his shoulder was unbearable. Spinning, swirling darkness surrounded him.
“Fawkes! Fawkes!”
Someone was calling him. Then they were shaking him. The movement aroused agony on his wounded side. He followed the pain back through the darkness into harsh, dizzying light.
Now they were carrying him. The feel of the soft bed beneath him. He breathed deeply, fighting through the pain.
“Fawkes, can you hear me?”
Reynard. At last.
He mumbled his friend’s name and was rewarded by a deep sigh of relief. “Blessed Jesu, you had me worried. I thought you’d hit your head and that’s why you wouldn’t wake up. But by the saints, why did you get out of bed?”
“So thirsty. No one would come.” Reynard must know he’d been left alone for hours, if not days.
“What about Alys? Why didn’t you tell her what you needed?”
Alys. So he hadn’t dreamed her being there. Did that mean the rest of it was true? Some tale about Nicola’s dead baby being alive? That part must be a dream.
He sought to focus his thoughts. “I need water.”
“Get it, Oliver. And hurry.” Reynard put his hand on Fawkes’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Fawkes. Alys offered to look after you, and I thought she would do better than that old crone Emma. Besides, Old Emma is Nicola’s servant, and I’m not certain how much your wife cares for you. But it seems Alys is the one who is untrustworthy. And now you’re fevered. God’s teeth! I wish Glennyth was here.”
“Where is she?” Fawkes asked, groggily.
“She went to Mordeaux. Remember? Nicola has gone to fetch her back.”
But Nicola wasn’t coming back. Alys had said so. Nicola was staying at Mordeaux with her son. “How long has Nicola been gone?”
Reynard was moving restlessly around the room. He didn’t answer.
“Reynard?”
“Too long. She said she would enter the castle by some secret way. But something must have happened.”
“What do you mean? What could have happened?”
Reynard approached the bed. “Don’t worry about Nicola. She’s like Glennyth’s cat, Tom. She’ll land on her feet. Do not doubt it.”
Such bitterness. ’Twas not like easygoing, cheerful Reynard. He must know about the babe. Perhaps Alys had told him as well. If only he could think more clearly. Maybe water would help. Once he’d drunk his fill, his thoughts would run smoother and the world would make sense again.
****
“Gilbert!” Nicola exclaimed. “Thank goodness.”
“Lady Nicola?” Gilbert responded in shocked tones. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Has de Cressy retaken the castle?”
Nicola leaned nearer to the grate. “Fawkes has been injured and the castle is still under FitzSaer’s control. I came here to get Glennyth, but I’ve seen no sign of her. Nor of Hilary and the children.”
“What? Has FitzSaer done something to my family? The puling little bastard! You’ve got to get me out of here! We have to find them!”
“I know. I’m thinking. Where can I get a rope?”
“I believe there’s one up there, near the opening. They use it to lower food and water down to me.”
Nicola searched and found a rope with a basket tied to it. She removed the basket and took the rope back to the opening, wondering what she could fasten it to, so Gilbert could climb up. Close to the oubliette opening was a bracket on the wall meant for a torch. It was never intended to bear the weight of a man, but with luck it would hold for a short time.
She tied one end of the rope to the bracket and lowered the other into the cell. Gilbert grunted and groaned as he climbed the rope, and Nicola held her breath that the bracket would hold. At last he got near enough to the top to grab the side of the opening and with Nicola’s help, scramble up.
He sprawled next to her for a moment, panting. “Have you any water?”
“A small jar.” She retrieved it from her basket a
nd he drank it down.
“Now what do we do?”
“We must find Hilary and the children. With luck Glennyth will be with them.”
“Glennyth? You mean the healer at Valmar?”
“Aye. She came to Mordeaux to get some healing herbs from Hilary, since most of her supply was burned in a fire.”
“Why are you so desperate for a healer?”
“Fawkes is wounded.” She explained how he’d been hurt. Even speaking of it made her throat choke with helpless horror.
“How bad?”
“The quarrel struck him in the shoulder. I had to cut deep into his flesh to remove it.”
Gilbert exhaled deeply. “I would never have believed FitzSaer capable of such cool-headed scheming. To imprison me and then try to kill Fawkes, it speaks of someone very cunning and ruthless.”
“It’s possible other people are behind this and he’s simply following orders.”
“Who?”
“There isn’t time to explain. We must act quickly. First, we must get you out of the castle. Then I want you to find my horse in the forest and ride to Valmar and tell them what’s going on.”
“You expect me to leave you here?”
“I have to discover what’s happened to Hilary and the children. And to Glennyth.” She must find the healer. Fawkes’s life depended on it.
“Lady, it doesn’t seem right. I should be the one who searches for my family.”
“If FitzSaer finds you, he’ll kill you. Me, he won’t. I’m too important to John’s plans.”
“John?”
“The prince. Richard’s brother.”
“He’s behind this?” Gilbert was clearly aghast.
“I’m afraid so. As I said, it’s a long tale and now is not the time for telling it. Come. We’ll go back the way I came, through the hall.”
“How will I get out? The man at the gate might be allied with FitzSaer.”
“I know of another exit. Come.”
****
Nicola waited impatiently in the stables for the young squire to saddle and bridle a horse. After searching the granary and the stables, she’d given up on finding Hilary and the children at Mordeaux. The only other place she could think to look was Rosebrook, a nearby manor. If only she was able to get out of the castle. The squire who was helping her clearly had no knowledge of FitzSaer’s scheme, but the knights at the gate might be different.
She followed the squire as he led the horse out of the stable and took the animal to the mounting block. He was about to help her up when an angry voice called, “Stop her! Don’t let her leave!”
FitzSaer raced toward them. The squire froze. Nicola grabbed the reins and scrambled onto the horse’s back. She dug her heels into the horse’s flanks and the horse shot past FitzSaer toward the gate.
“Stop her!” FitzSaer cried again.
Before she reached the gate, an armed knight appeared in her pathway. She tried to urge the horse past the knight, but the animal shied.
The knight ran up and grabbed the horse’s bridle. FitzSaer raced over from the other direction. His eyes raked her, narrowed with malice. Nicola glared back at him. “I’m the lady of Mordeaux, and you will not keep me here against my will.” She turned to the man holding the bridle. “FitzSaer has no authority here. I am the wife of your liege lord. I command you to let me go.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” FitzSaer retorted. “Prince John, soon to be King John, has appointed me castellan of Mordeaux. He disavows the claim of the usurper, Fawkes de Cressy.”
“Fawkes de Cressy has a writ giving him Mordeaux, as well as Valmar. And his writ is from the true king, Richard the Lionheart.”
“Ah, but Richard rots in the emperor’s prison, so he’s hardly in a position to enforce his decrees.” FitzSaer voice was full of gloating.
“Fawkes doesn’t need the king’s support. He will come and take Mordeaux back.”
“Aye, he would do that, lady. Except he is badly wounded. One of my men saw him being carried off, draped over his horse like a corpse.”
“Wounded, aye. But not so badly he will not heal. And as soon as he does, he’ll come and take Mordeaux from you, and see you hanged!”
FitzSaer made a sound of disgust. “Bold words. But completely untrue. I’ve had word from Valmar that de Cressy is already sickening. He may linger awhile, but he’ll die all the same. I have nothing to fear from him.”
FitzSaer’s words were like a knife in her belly. But she would not let him see her fear. She faced him defiantly. “Your spy is a fool. De Cressy will survive and make you pay for your treachery.” She turned her gaze to the knight. “And he’ll punish anyone who has helped this man. You can be certain of it.”
“Enough!” FitzSaer shouted. “I’m done arguing with you. I’m sick of your meddling. You’ve never behaved as a proper lady should. That will all change when you’re my wife. And now, you will get down off my horse, or I will have Baldwin drag you off!”
“What do you intend to do to me?”
FitzSaer’s smile was grim. “Lock you away where you can’t get into any more mischief.”
Nicola struggled to repress a shudder at the thought of being imprisoned in the oubliette. But there were worse things. If Fawkes died, FitzSaer would try to force her to marry him. She would never relent. Better to die than to once again be wed to a man she loathed.
Taking bitter satisfaction from the thought, she allowed the knight to help her dismount. The two men, one on either side, led her back to the castle and to the oubliette. As they neared the dungeon, Nicola fought panic. She focused on her hatred for FitzSaer. Hanging would be too easy a death for the filthy swine! Perhaps she’d have him thrown into the oubliette and leave him to die slowly by starvation.
The rope was still tied to the bracket on the wall. FitzSaer had Baldwin untie it and then fasten it around Nicola’s waist. Baldwin moved aside the grate covering the oubliette opening and the two men lowered her into the dark cell.
“Now, untie the rope so we can pull it up,” FitzSaer ordered. “Otherwise we won’t have any means of lowering you food and water.”
“Perhaps I’ll starve myself. Once I’m dead, my dowry will pass back to the king. Who knows whom Richard—or even John—will choose to give it to? It won’t be you. They’ll gift it to someone who has more power and wealth.”
FitzSaer laughed. “You won’t starve yourself. Otherwise I’ll make certain your son comes to a very unpleasant end.”
As FitzSaer’s words echoed in the cold darkness of her prison, Nicola pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Simon! Dear Simon! Oh, my darling, what have I done!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fawkes woke from a fitful sleep to find Reynard sitting by the bed. Old Emma was also there fussing with some of Nicola’s things.
Reynard told the servant to fetch Fawkes some broth. Then he rose and moved restlessly around the room.
“What is it?” Fawkes asked after Reynard paced back and forth a few times. “What’s wrong?”
Reynard faced the bed. “Before she left for Mordeaux, Nicola told me something very disturbing. Apparently, last winter a priest came to Valmar and hinted that Prince John was looking for allies in his quest to seize power while Richard was imprisoned. Furious, Mortimer told the priest to leave. But Nicola met with the priest. She told him if some ally of John’s were to seize Valmar and Mordeaux by force, she would not be displeased. It seems she hated Mortimer so much she had decided to betray him, even if it meant being wed to some other man of John’s choosing.”
This wasn’t what Fawkes was expecting. Yet, it fit what he knew of his wife. He could well imagine Nicola doing such a thing.
Reynard shook his head. “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell you about this plot long ago. It’s hard to believe she cares for you when she failed to warn you what she’d done. She claims she forgot the whole conversation and only started to worry again when the jongleur de Ronay told her the
enemy army was on the way.”
“So that was what she was up to with de Ronay.” Fawkes was relieved there was nothing between Nicola and the jongleur. Even so, what his wife had done could be considered treason.
“Nicola says she paid de Ronay to convince the prince to stop the plot. Instead, de Ronay left for Shrewsbury. FitzSaer now commands Mordeaux. I’m certain his plan was to kill you and wed Nicola. Then he could swear allegiance to Prince John and claim Nicola’s dowry.” Reynard gave Fawkes a grim look. “The thing is…I’m not certain Nicola isn’t involved in this plot as well.”
Fawkes stared at his captain. “You think she wants me dead?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I remember her tending to my wound. She was frantic with worry.”
“I know she appeared convincing at the time. But think of all the other things she’s lied about. All the things she’s kept from you. So many secrets.”
Alys had said something similar. Even so, all his instincts told him Nicola didn’t want him dead. No one was that good at pretending. Why would she want to be rid of him so she could marry FitzSaer? She despised the man. Unless… Was it possible FitzSaer was the father of her son? The babe that didn’t die but grew up and was now living at Mordeaux?
The thought of it made Fawkes feel sick, a sickness that went beyond the fever and pain wracking his body. The next moment he remembered Reynard didn’t know about Nicola’s son. He met his captain’s gaze. “When I was desperate for water and Alys was taunting me, she told me something strange. She told me Nicola’s baby didn’t die. That he is alive and living at Mordeaux.”
Reynard gave a snort of disgust. “I wouldn’t trust anything Alys says. Not after the way she treated you.”
“But think about it. The story does explain things: Nicola’s trips to Mordeaux and the children’s garments she sews.” And the fact that she hasn’t come back from Mordeaux.
Lady of Steel Page 26
