by Speer, Flora
“I think so, though I haven’t used them for years,” Jenia replied. Into her mind an image floated, of two little girls trying to stifle their giggles as they jumped from stone to stone, while above them on the battlements an elderly sentry looked down and smiled, and shook his head as he pretended not to notice. The sentry was dead of old age by now, and Jenia was sure he had never spoken to anyone about those childish escapades, for they would not have gone unpunished if Walderon knew of them. With the bittersweet memory came a stab of grief. Fortunately, Sanal did not notice.
“Good,” Sanal said. “You and I can guide these men across the moat and into the lowest tunnels. Sir Roarke, the wooded area that edges the meadows will be an ideal place to leave your horses. You will require only one or two men to watch them until you are inside the castle and can open the main gate.”
“That’s good thinking, Sanal,” Lord Giles said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll wager that Walderon has no idea how clever you really are.”
“Indeed,” Jenia said coldly. “Which leads me to ask a question of you, Aunt. Why did you never try to help Chantal and me? You could have told someone where we were imprisoned. Garit, for instance, would have found a way to free us.”
“I didn’t know where you were,” Sanal cried. “I still don’t know. Walderon claimed that he knew nothing, either. I didn’t believe him, but even listening through the secret peepholes gained me no information. I think by the time we returned to Thury from Calean and the royal court, Walderon’s plans were made and his orders given. You and Chantal were locked away. Not until the ship’s captain arrived to report how the woman he called Lady Chantal had jumped into the sea did I know you were still alive. And then, of course, I assumed you were dead, drowned in that terrible storm.
“Matilda Jenia, please.” Sanal caught her niece’s hands. “Tell me you believe me when I say that I had nothing to do with Walderon’s crimes against you and Chantal.”
“Why should I?” Jenia pulled her fingers out of Sanal’s grasp. “You never tried to protect Chantal, or me, either, from Uncle Walderon’s petty cruelties. You didn’t back Chantal against Walderon when she refused to marry Lord Malin. And when we were in Calean City that last time, you treated us as if we were a pair of criminals. Did you alert Walderon that Chantal was planning to elope with Garit?”
“Not I,” Sanal whispered. She met Jenia’s accusing gaze squarely and spoke in a clear, calm manner that did much to prove the truth of her next words. “The maidservants and the men-at-arms who guarded you were Walderon’s people, his chosen spies. They reported to Burke, who then relayed the information to Walderon. My best guess as to how your uncle learned of your plan is that one of the maids must have overheard you and Chantal talking and told Burke. I do think it’s odd that no one reported your scheme to exchange clothes.”
“We only decided to do that at the last moment,” Jenia said. “It was my idea. I thought Chantal could slip away more easily if I were to divert attention from her by wearing her clothes into the great hall and pretending to be her. In the end, my clever notion caused her death.”
“No.” Sanal laid a hand over the fingers that Jenia was twisting together in her lap. “Walderon caused Chantal’s death. You were only trying to help your cousin. I should have helped both of you, but I am such a coward. I have spent so many years fearing Walderon.”
“What changed your mind, Lady Sanal?” Garit sounded as if he didn’t believe her. “Why, after so many years of meek obedience, did you finally decide to fight back?”
“Because I learned beyond any doubt that Walderon ordered Chantal’s death and that he plans to take her inheritance for himself. When he appears before King Henryk, he will act as if he’s a sad relative, deeply disturbed to learn from a sea captain how his niece died at sea. He’ll say he is concerned about the future of her lands and the people who live there. He will petition King Henryk to grant Thury to him.” Sanal’s voice was filled with an unmistakable disgust of Walderon.
“He’s already the lord of Catherstone,” Jenia cried. “Why couldn’t he be content with that, and with King Henryk’s friendship?”
“A man of unbounded ambition like Walderon,” Lord Giles answered her, “will always crave more land, greater wealth, and as many titles as he can accumulate. I doubt if anything can satisfy such a person.”
“Murder is wicked enough,” Sanal declared. “It becomes more evil still when the victim is a sweet and generous-hearted girl and when the villain is her sworn guardian and her blood kin. To gain land and great power by such deeds as Walderon has committed is completely unforgivable. Even I, weak-willed and frightened as I am, can see that much. I knew I had to do something to stop Walderon. So, I decided to flee from Thury and try to find Lord Giles. I told myself he would know what to do, and he’d find a safe place for me to stay, a place from which Walderon could not drag me forth and slay me.”
“Enough of this,” Roarke commanded. “It’s growing late and we all need to rest. Jenia, kindly look after your aunt. I regret that you ladies will have to sleep on the ground along with the men, but it cannot be helped and it won’t be for long.”
“I have slept in worse places,” Jenia reminded him. “After the stone floor of a dungeon, the good, clean earth is a vast improvement.”
“Oh, Matilda Jenia,” Sanal whispered, looking as if she was about to weep.
“Please,” Jenia said through clenched teeth, “do not call me ‘Matilda Jenia.’ To my friends, and to Chantal, I have always been simply, Jenia.”
“Of course,” Sanal agreed. “It’s a habit on my part, one more detail that I must learn to change.”
“Here, Sanal,” Lord Giles said, interrupting the discussion. “Take this blanket. It’s rough and scratchy wool, but it will keep you warm. Sleep with your feet toward the fire, too; that will help.”
“Thank you, Giles.” Sanal returned Lord Giles’s cloak to him, then accepted the blanket and wrapped it over her own rather thin cloak.
Noting the way the two treated each other, Jenia looked at Roarke, who raised his eyebrows at her. Her own cloak, the one provided by Garit and originally belonging to Chantal, reached to her ankles and was thick and warm. She folded it around herself and stretched out next to her aunt.
She told herself she wasn’t going to sleep at all. She was going to keep watch on Sanal instead, just in case her aunt decided to slip away from the camp and warn the folk at Thury of the approach of a secret army which, though small in number, was brave enough and determined enough to enter and subdue the place and hold it against Walderon. She was definitely not going to sleep....
“Wake up.” Roarke shook her lightly. “It’s time to be on our way.”
“Where is Aunt Sanal?” Jenia asked, sitting up.
“Right here,” came Sanal’s wry voice from beside her. “I didn’t vanish during the night, in case you feared I would. How easy it is to sleep well when one feels safe.”
Jenia didn’t respond to the remark. She looked around the camp. Two of the squires were putting out the fire, stamping on the last of the embers and using a small shovel to toss dirt on the remains. The moon had set, leaving the night dark, with only the stars to see by as they mounted and left the camp with Sanal riding one of the extra horses that Garit had brought along from the stable at Auremont.
The sky was showing a faint lightening in the east that threw the jagged outlines of the Nalo Mountains into sharp silhouette. Because the mountains were so close and cast such long shadows, dawn came later to Thury than to the forest and the plain west of the castle.
They dismounted at the edge of the forest, leaving the horses in the care of a single squire as Roarke ordered. In the complete silence he also decreed, they set out on foot across the wide meadow.
This, Jenia knew, was the most dangerous part of their venture. If anyone standing watch on the castle walls saw them, they wouldn’t live long. Her heart was pounding and she was finding it difficult to breathe.
But she kept pace with Roarke and Garit, and she held onto Sanal’s hand as Roarke had instructed her to do, until they reached the edge of the moat.
“We’ll have to be quick,” Roarke whispered to Jenia and Garit. “We arrived later than I wanted. The sun will soon rise above the mountains. If we’re spotted, the archers on the walls will pick us off with no trouble at all.”
“I understand,” Jenia whispered back, surprised when her voice did not quaver. “Go ahead, Roarke. I’ll see you again when we are inside.”
“Lady Sanal,” Roarke said, “since you crossed the moat so recently, you will lead us to the secret entrance. I will be right behind you.”
“As you wish, Sir Roarke.” Sanal gathered her long skirts in one hand, holding them high, and stepped into the water.
Jenia quickly realized that her aunt had been honest about her knowledge of where the stepping stones were placed. Eight flat stones lay in a zigzag pattern under the water of the moat, which never dried up, not even during a summer drought, because it was fed by two springs and a nearby stream. Sanal unerringly stepped onto each one of the stones, weaving an erratic path across the moat.
Roarke was right behind her. He was followed by his squire, Elwin, and then by Lord Giles and his men. As the men stepped into the water, Jenia whispered instructions to each on where the next few stones could be found. Across the water, Sanal was doing the same for the last stones. When the men reached the narrow strip of land on the other side of the moat they spread out, pressing themselves against the outer wall of the castle so they couldn’t be seen from above. Garit’s men from Auremont crossed last, with Jenia and Garit bringing up the rear.
“We are all here.” Garit’s report to Roarke was just above a whisper.
“Go on, then, Lady Sanal,” Roarke softly ordered. “Show us the entrance you used.”
Sanal went to her knees to remove a pile of leaves and grass from the bottom of the narrow door, which to the casual eye looked to be the same solid stone as the wall. Jenia knew from her childhood that the door was, in fact, a mere facing. Stones to match the wall had been cut thin by skillful masons and set into a specially made metal frame, so when the door was closed and latched from within the castle, only someone who knew where it was would notice it.
With the debris cleared Sanal grasped the thin edge that projected no more than a finger’s width from the wall. She whispered to Roarke to remove the flat pair of sticks with which she had braced the bottom of the door to prevent it from shutting completely. Roarke complied and Sanal pulled the door wide open. The hinges were well oiled and made no sound.
“Very clever,” Garit breathed in Jenia’s ear. “Who else uses this door and keeps it in such good repair? I doubt your aunt tends to the hinges.”
“Hush,” Roarke commanded.
Sanal went through the doorway first, then Roarke entered. A moment later Jenia saw a spark and a torch flared to life in a wall sconce. Roarke took the torch and used it to light several others, which he ordered the men now crowding into the tunnel to pass along to those who came in later, to light their way. Then he, Jenia, and Sanal led the company along a narrow passage with a roof so low that most of the men had to stoop as they walked through it in single file.
“When I was a girl, this tunnel was larger,” Jenia murmured, looking around.
“When you were a girl, you were smaller,” Roarke reminded her. “Did you and Chantal venture this way very often?”
“After our parents died, we used the tunnel and the door only when Uncle Walderon and his henchman, Burke, were absent,” Jenia said. “We didn’t want them to learn the secret. Some of the servants knew, but they’d never reveal anything to either of those two unless they were forced to tell.”
“I can’t say I blame them for being discreet.” Garit spoke from directly behind her. “Tell me Jenia, if we are discovered by a servant now, what do you think will happen?”
“I expect any servant to aid us,” Jenia said, “especially if I pretend to be Chantal. She is – was – their rightful mistress, after all. I doubt if the news of her death has reached here yet. Thury is rather isolated.”
Garit fell silent then. Jenia thought he was most likely dealing with the strong emotions evoked by her reminder that his love was gone forever.
They continued up stairways and through passages that became wider and higher as they progressed. Before long the men were all striding erect and moving in pairs. They met no one until they emerged into a small chamber on the third level of the castle.
“This is the linen room,” Jenia said to Garit.
“Most men wouldn’t look for a secret door in such a place. Linens are just not manly enough.” Garit appeared to have regained his composure. He grinned at Jenia and moved aside to let Lord Giles enter the room.
Jenia could hear the quiet shuffle of booted feet as the rest of their company halted to await their next orders from Roarke.
“We won’t all fit into this room,” Lord Giles remarked, looking around at the shelves of folded sheets and extra quilts. The scent of sweet gallinum filled the air, strewn on the floor to prevent vermin from finding a home among the valuable fabrics.
“We don’t need to fit,” Roarke said in the firm tone of a knight who knew he was in command and knew what to do next.
Hearing him, Jenia took courage, though Sanal looked worried. Or perhaps, Jenia thought, her aunt was frightened.
“Garit,” Roarke said, “take your men and secure the great hall and then the battlements. Lord Giles, see to the barracks and the inner and outer bailey. Jenia, keep a close watch on your aunt. If she tries any tricks, use this.” He held out his knife.
Jenia stared at it, willing her fingers to curve around the handle. It was the same knife that had so terrified her on their first night together, at the little, seaside inn because it looked so much like the knife that had been used to stab Chantal.
She heard Lord Giles issuing quiet commands and she stepped aside as his squires and men-at-arms emerged from the tunnel. It seemed as if only a moment passed before they were gone. Garit’s men from Auremont came next, filing silently through the linen room and out to the corridor that Jenia knew lay beyond. And still she stood there, staring at Roarke’s knife.
“Take it,” he ordered. His face was hard and his eyes were fierce when they met hers. “You need a weapon.”
“Not against me, she doesn’t,” Sanal cried. “Sir Roarke, I have brought you here as I promised. Surely, you know by now that you can trust me.”
“I will trust you completely when Thury is ours,” Roarke said. “Until then, I trust only Jenia and the men I have brought with me. Take the knife, Jenia.”
Slowly, unwillingly, her gaze never leaving Roarke’s face, Jenia placed her hand on the knife hilt. When Roarke let it go and she finally held the full weight of it, she lowered her arm until the blade was concealed within the folds of her cloak.
“Good,” Roarke said, nodding. “Now, stay close to me, both of you. Come on, Elwin,” he called softly to his squire, who was armed with the short sword that squires used for practicing. Unlike Jenia, Elwin looked ready to use his weapon.
By the time they reached the great hall the servants, many of whom Jenia recognized, were gathered in a frightened looking group that was guarded by a few men from Auremont. From the entry hall came the sounds of steel upon steel as weapons clashed.
“You and Lady Sanal stay here,” Roarke ordered Jenia. He and Elwin hurried in the direction of the noise.
“Lady Chantal,” cried a maidservant, “you’ve come home at last. We feared we’d never see you again. Oh, please, my lady, tell us what is happening. And Lady Sanal, where have you been these last few days? Did you travel to Calean City with Lord Walderon after all? He was most annoyed with you before he left,” the maid ended with a sly smirk at Sanal.
Unhappy at the need for more lies, Jenia stifled a sigh. She knew her pretence of being the rightful lady of Thury would aid Roarke and his f
riends in holding the castle, yet she hated to fool the simple folk who had loved Chantal. She wanted to find another way. Thinking quickly, holding Sanal by the wrist, Jenia stepped onto the dais where the high table was.
“Go on,” Sanal whispered to her. “Speak to them. You can assure their cooperation better than I can. You heard the way that maid spoke to me. These people associate me with Walderon. They only obeyed me because they feared him.”
“Good people,” Jenia said, raising her voice to address everyone in the hall, “Lady Sanal left Thury to find Lord Giles and his company and bring us here. The men who came with us will hold the castle until King Henryk grants it to a new lord. My Uncle Walderon may return within the next day or so and try to seize Thury, but he will not succeed.”
Her speech was interrupted by a resounding cheer from the servants and from a few middle-aged men-at-arms who came into the hall in time to hear the last sentences. The men were driven there at swordpoint by Roarke and Lord Giles, who promptly joined Jenia and Sanal on the dais.
“It wasn’t much of a fight. These fellows surrendered as soon as I explained our purpose here,” Roarke grumbled to the ladies. “Too bad, I say. I’d enjoy a good excuse to punish a few of Walderon’s men for their deeds, and his. But it seems Lady Sanal was correct that most of those who are loyal to Walderon rode to Calean City as his escort. Perhaps he thought he’d need protection there more than he required security here.”
“He was always much too confident,” Sanal remarked. “I gave up trying to warn him of that particular character flaw years ago, when I realized he would never listen to me.”
“I cannot lie to these people,” Jenia said to Roarke. “I haven’t spoken an untruth so far, but they believe I am Chantal. I think I should tell them what happened to her.”
“I agree,” Roarke said. “Knowing what was done to Chantal will ensure their resistance to Walderon when he returns.”
