Wearing a Mask - a Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Book 14)

by Lisa Shea

  Her throat ran dry.

  She knew what Lord Ingram wanted.

  Her eyes went to the three men held up by the guards. Johann’s head wound was bleeding in a rivulet down his leather tunic. Luigi seemed dazed, as if he had been severely beaten. Braun was still pulling at his guards but the four of them were able to keep him in place.

  Johann shook his head, groaning in pain. “Don’t do it, lass. We’re not worth it.”

  She firmed her shoulders and turned back to Lord Ingram. “I will marry you. Spare these three mens’ lives and I will agree to be your wife.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Tomorrow? You will marry me tomorrow?”

  A shaft of ice speared her at the thought. Tomorrow would be Philip’s execution. How could she possibly marry Lord Ingram on that day?

  Lord Ingram waved a hand in the air. “Of course, if you do not really care at all about Philip’s friends –”

  “Yes,” shot out Isabel, desperation coursing through her. “Yes. I will marry you. Just vow to me that these men will not be harmed. They will be free to live their lives.”

  “Of course,” he promised with a wide smile. “I promise that these three men will live long lives.”

  Isabel dropped her head in relief. It was all she could do. She knew there would be no way to plead for Philip’s release. Lord Ingram was wholly focused on his destruction. If she could but save Philip’s three friends, she would count herself fortunate.

  Lord Ingram nudged his head to the guards. “Go, take the men away. Put them up in the tower with Philip – it is the most secure location to hold them until the morning.” He chuckled. “They can commiserate on their failings for their final hours.”

  He turned to Isabel. “And you, my darling. I suggest you go back up to your room and get some rest. For tomorrow is the most important day in your life – the day you marry me.”

  Isabel barely knew that she turned. Hillie was there before her, guiding her, and somehow her feet moved up the stairs and into her room. Somehow her door was closed again. And then she was collapsed in the chair facing the tower window.

  There was movement in there. Shadows. Undoubtedly they were putting the other three men into the room. Johann was telling Philip of the bargain struck –

  Suddenly Philip was there in the window. His eyes searched up to hers. He opened his mouth -

  Isabel stepped back from the window. There would be no changing her mind. No stepping back from what was to come. She had set her path. If she could rescue three loyal men from death, she would gladly do it.

  She tumbled into bed fully dressed. And she gave herself to oblivion.

  Chapter 30

  Isabel was beyond exhausted. It was if the very soul had been sucked from her body. She lay in bed and stared at the drizzle of rain beyond the open window, wondering why she was so drained of energy. She was home, after all, and Philip –

  Her throat closed up.

  Today Philip would be slain.

  And, unless she went through with the marriage to Lord Ingram, Philip’s three trusted friends would follow him to the headsman’s block.

  She stumbled her way through her morning ablutions. She chose a dress of the darkest brown. She strapped Andetnes at her hip. She brushed her hair out and then twined it into one long braid down her back.

  She turned to the shelf and stared at the bolt for a long moment. Then she took it down and held it in her hand.

  To think that this one simple bolt had set such a sequence of events in motion. Without this bolt, Lord Ingram might never have stumbled across her. He might not have become infatuated with her. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been driven into Diggory’s arms in order to escape. Maybe, even now, she would be contentedly living at the Tower. None of this would have happened.

  She turned the bolt over in her fingers –

  There was a small dove etched on the shaft.

  She blinked in surprise. How had she never seen that? True, when it had been extracted from her leg she had kept it more to fuel her fire of anger with Lord Ingram than anything else. She had only felt rage when she looked at it.

  But this …

  She couldn’t imagine Lord Ingram having a quiet dove symbol on anything he used. His symbol was the raging lions. Full of fury. Driven by desire.

  Why would he have an image of a quiet grey dove on his weaponry?

  For some reason the dove reminded her of something. Something related to Lord Ingram.

  She chased after the fleeting thought. Had it been at the party with King John? Perhaps in the carriage ride? Or when she had entered his home …

  The two portraits in the entry hall.

  She could barely breathe.

  Lady Ingram’s portrait had featured grey doves.

  She looked down at the bolt in her hand, the thoughts connecting and resolving.

  Her mouth fell open in shock.

  Had it been Lady Ingram who had shot her, that afternoon in the woods?

  With growing urgency she thought back to every moment she could remember from that chaotic afternoon. She had wrangled a treasured outing on a horse from her father as a special treat. Her party had ridden to the wood on the outskirts of London. She had just managed to spring free from her father and guards and was laughing with the joy of her escape when everything she had known had changed.

  A sharp whistling noise.

  A crossbow bolt sailing out of the shadows.

  Lord Ingram had thundered in at her cry, sure he had struck the deer. He had seemed outraged at finding her there instead of his prize. And then, once he had gotten a better look –

  Had he not fired the wounding shot?

  Isabel could scarce believe it. But now, with fresh eyes, she found that she remembered other things. Snippets of conversation from the guards when Lady Ingram had arrived. Talk that the Lady’s visits to the tower had angered her father. After one particularly long visit, he had made clear she was no longer welcome.

  And now Lady Ingram was back in the tower, an honored guest of her son.

  Had the woman spent the past years scheming for this result?

  Isabel put the bolt back onto the shelf, her hand shaking. This was all pointless. In the end, it did not matter what Lady Ingram’s plan was or how much her son had known about it. Isabel was now trapped in the web. The plans and patient manipulations had all done their job.

  If she were to now refuse Lord Ingram, she would doom Johann, Luigi, and Braun to death.

  She gave Hillie a weary pat. “All right, my dearest. It’s time to do what must be done.”

  He looked up with questioning eyes, but he drew to his feet.

  She took one last look around her room. The golden dog ring was still on her thumb, and she considered removing it. After all, she could no longer flee. If she did, she was sure the men she left behind would suffer a fate far worse than death.

  Still … she closed her hand and blew out her breath. She would keep it with her. It was a token given to her by three brave, loyal men. She would wear it as a reminder of why she was going through with this action.

  Her feet moved slowly … so slowly … and the hallways seemed deserted. It was clear why when she reached the courtyard. Every man, woman, and child of the keep was huddled in a throng around the executioner’s block.

  Lord Ingram was standing there, his mother watching proudly by his side. He beamed as Isabel approached. “My dear, you look even more radiant than usual. And now that you’re here, we can begin the event.” He turned to the guards. “Bring out the prisoners.”

  Hillie whimpered.

  The tower door opened. Guards escorted out Johann first. His cut had been washed and stitched; dark bruises peppered his face. His hands were securely tied behind him. Next came Luigi. He moved slowly, unsteadily, limping as he advanced. While he was also tied, one of the guards gave him a shoulder to help him along.

  Of the three, only Braun remained full of fire and fury. Even with his hands tied, there were four
guards surrounding him, swords drawn, ensuring he continued his march.

  And then -

  Isabel’s heart hammered.

  Philip.

  He moved with weary deliberation, as if he had not slept a wink in many days and it was his sheer force of will which kept him on his feet. The moment he emerged from the tower’s gloom his eyes sought … sought …

  They connected with hers in an electric jolt that coursed through her body in twisting desperation.

  Her breath left her. “Oh, Philip.”

  He started forward –

  The guards at his side grabbed hard at his arms, holding him in place.

  His voice was hoarse. “Izzie -”

  A guard jabbed the hilt of his sword hard into Philip’s stomach, causing him to fold in half with a staggering groan.

  Isabel clenched her hands and stood up tall, forcing herself to be brave for him. “It is all right. I am at peace with my choice. I am proud to save your friends, Philip. With my help they will go free.”

  Lord Ingram chuckled. “My dear, did I ever say they would go free? I said they would live a long life.”

  She rounded on him in shock. “What? But you promised –”

  He raised his hands. “I said that I would not kill them. And that is true. They will live out their lives in the dungeons beneath the tower. Fed, watered, but never again will they see the light of day.”

  Isabel nearly collapsed. “You can’t do that to them!”

  “Ah, but I can, dear, and I will.” His eyes moved to the large block of stone at the center of the courtyard. “Unless you prefer the other alternative?”

  Her throat closed up.

  She could not say a word.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t think so. And so we begin the trial portion of this event.”

  Isabel looked wildly around for her father. Perhaps he could rein in this insanity. But he was nowhere to be seen. Was he being held hostage in his room, only to be released when it was too late?

  Lord Ingram calmly turned to face Philip. “Lord Bedemor. Let us review the charges before us. Did you break into this very keep only three nights ago, forcing yourself into Isabel’s room?”

  Philip nodded, his gaze somber. “I did. But I meant her no harm.”

  Isabel stepped forward, her throat tight. “He only wanted to talk with me! Is that really –”

  Lord Ingram ticked the items off on his finger. “Unlawful entry to this keep. Accosting the Constable’s daughter in her very room.” His gaze darkened. “The brutal murder of the captain, four sailors, and one innocent woman on the Sailing Ship Seaworthy. Their bodies were recovered just yesterday from their shallow graves.”

  Isabel’s voice shot out. “ You know why Philip took those lives! They were all pirates who were trying to sink the entire boat full of innocent passengers!”

  Lord Ingram barely blinked. “Every passenger on board who was questioned never mentioned pirates. They only mentioned a storm. The logical explanation is that, after the boat landed, Philip wanted to take charge. The sailors resisted, and he killed them all in a crazed fury. He then threatened the passengers’ lives if they spoke of it.”

  Isabel’s mouth hung open in shock. The wild accusation was beyond imagining. Her gaze burned with righteous fury. “If you are going to accuse Philip of those murders, then you might as well accuse me as well. Because I was at his side every step of the way.” Her eyes shone with emotion. “In fact, Lord Ingram, it was I who killed Marianne.”

  A gasp circled the courtyard and Lord Ingram’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then a shine of fresh appreciation came to his eyes, and he slowly nodded. “A valiant try, Isabel. You wish to add confusion to the proceedings so we cannot find Philip guilty. Unfortunately for your noble efforts, we have several trustworthy men who will swear they heard Philip boasting about his actions when he arrived at Dover. We know it was he, and he alone, who perpetrated this foul deed.”

  Isabel’s eyes turned to marbles.

  She bet she could guess exactly who those trustworthy men were.

  Lord Ingram turned back to Philip. “So here are your charges. Accosting an innocent woman. Breaking in to the King’s keep. Numerous counts of heartless murder. Threatening innocent passengers. And to that I can add a myriad of other deceptions and nefarious actions.” He nodded in satisfaction. “There is no question. You are a heartless brute and a menace to all decent society. I have no choice but to sentence you to death.”

  There were mutters and murmurs throughout the throng.

  Isabel couldn’t breathe. “Philip is now a Lord. Only King John can sign for his death!”

  Lord Ingram’s teeth glittered. “Within these walls I have the right to mete justice. The decision has been made.”

  His mother’s gaze glowed with anticipation.

  Lord Ingram turned toward the right. “Executioner!”

  A heavy-set man pushed his way through the crowd, making his way to the large block. He picked up an axe which lay alongside it. He ran a thumb experimentally along its glistening edge.

  Isabel’s resolve shattered. She ran forward to Philip, gently laying her hands on either side of his face. “Philip, I’m so sorry for everything. I should have trusted you. I should have believed in you.”

  Her voice broke as her emotions overflowed her last walls. “I … I love you, Philip.”

  His gaze held hers, and his eyes shone with emotion. “I have always loved you, sweet Izzie. Whatever happens, know that to be true.”

  The guard ruthlessly yanked him away. “All right, enough of that.” He led Philip up to the block.

  The guard stood Philip in front of the large squared-off stone. He ordered, “Kneel.”

  Philip’s gaze held Isabel’s as if she was the air he breathed. He slowly dropped onto his knees. A wry smile, and he lowered his head onto the block.

  Lord Ingram’s gaze gleamed in desire. “Do it. I command you, end this man’s life.”

  The executioner nodded.

  He settled both hands on the thick shaft of the axe.

  The axe rose high –

  Chapter 31

  Bedlam.

  Braun threw off all four guards holding him, and somehow he had two swords, one in each hand. He tossed one high to Johann.

  Johann spun with the blade, taking his guard full in the stomach. The man collapsed, clutching his belly.

  Luigi had freed himself of his bonds and was racing toward Philip.

  The executioner’s eyes went wide and he drove his axe -

  Hillie launched across the space, faster than she could have imagined the elderly dog to move. He sank his teeth deep in the executioner’s ankle.

  The man erupted into a sharp howl of pain. He twisted hard, changing the angle of his blow. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he drove the axe down toward the dog’s neck –

  Philip threw himself sideways, catching the executioner in his mid-section. The two tumbled down to the ground in a splay of limbs and shouts.

  Lord Ingram’s face went crimson with fury. “Get him!”

  The world spun up into a whirlwind of chaos, and Isabel dove behind the large oak tree, desperately searching for a sign of her friends.

  But it was hopeless.

  Isabel could not tell where her father’s forces began or where Lord Ingram’s ended. She could not tell who was fighting for which side. Had she seen that trio of men in the tavern when she enlisted Philip’s friends for help? Her beloved keep was a churning sea of thrashing fists, swinging blades, and screams of fury and pain.

  A bright movement. Lord Ingram leapt onto the executioner’s block, his sword raised high, shouting incoherently.

  All around him an ocean of chaos raged … raged …

  His mother jammed a stool next to the block and strode up to stand alongside her son. She shrieked with the blasting strength of a banshee – “STOOOOOP!”

  Shocked men froze in their tracks, blades mid-swing, as if the apocalypse had descended
to take them all.

  Lord Ingram jabbed his blade toward his soldiers. “You! You! Where are the prisoners? Bring them forward!”

  Eyes turned to and fro in anticipation.

  Nothing.

  Philip and his friends were nowhere to be seen.

  Isabel could hardly breathe.

  Had they done it? Had they actually escaped?

  Lord Ingram sputtered in furious disbelief. His voice rose high, nearly breaking. “Search the keep! Turn every stone! I want those men found!”

  His forces burst out in all directions, shouting commands with swords raised high.

  As the throng cleared –

  Isabel’s heart dropped into her feet.

  Hillie.

  She raced forward to his side. He was lying against the stone of the executioner’s block, his eyes closed, his breath coming in long, heavy wheezes. There was a dark bruise along his ribs.

  She drew him up into her arms, her eyes welling with tears.

  Lord Ingram’s voice came from above, sharp with anger. “You! Isabel! Get to your room and stay there!”

  She could barely speak. “Hillie’s hurt!”

  “I don’t care,” he snapped. “Take the cur with you. Just get to your room!” He called over a guard poking through the hay bales by the stables. “You! Take her up to her quarters. Ensure she remains within!”

  Isabel looked up at Lord Ingram – and bit her tongue. His face was twisted with impotent rage. She had a sense if she spoke one more word she would be locked in the tower cell, with Hillie left to die alone in the dirt.

  She drew Hillie tighter against her chest and set into motion as quickly as she could, the guard trailing behind her to ensure her destination. Down the halls, up the stairs, with every footstep her familiar walls nestled in around her. She pushed her door open and hurried to her bed, gently laying Hillie on top of the covers.

  There was a click as the guard closed the door securely behind her. She had no doubt he was standing immediately outside it.

  She pressed her lips together and ran to the door, sliding the bar across.

  Two could play this game.

  Safely secure within, she returned to Hillie’s side and dropped to her knees. She tenderly ran a hand along his gaunt face. “That was a brave thing you did back there,” she praised him. “Not one dog in a thousand would have gone against those odds. But you did, and look at the amazing results. You might have actually done it, my hero. You might have helped to save their lives.”