by Julia Byrne
She laughed. “A happy thought.” She rose to her feet, made a graceful obeisance, and left the hall.
“You wanted Annith out of the way,” Will observed as soon as they were alone.
“Aye,” Hugh said grimly. “I didn’t want to discuss this in front of her. She’s borne enough. But I agree with you that the courier knows nothing more. I suspect that de Beche and his cohorts indulged the worst of their vices in secret. They could hardly have done otherwise. Nor would they have gone so far as to kill every victim. God knows, serfs and maidservants are forced often enough by masters who see them as personal property. They have little or no redress. But murder on a regular basis? Nay. That would have been reserved for special girls. Or girls taken off the streets of larger towns, mayhap.”
Will grimaced. “There are plenty of places where a man can satisfy any appetite,” he growled. “Why take the risk of murdering the poor wretches?”
“From what Annith overheard, I would guess ’tis innocence and the thought of destroying it as brutally as possible that excites de Beche. That and watching his victims’ pain and horror.” Hugh’s eyes narrowed. “That messenger is probably more correct than he knows. De Beche must be beside himself all right, but with rage that Annith escaped him. She has everything he most desires. Youth, beauty, and probably more innocence than any girl he’s ever taken. Then there’s her castle and lands. And on top of that, she’s made him look a fool in front of his friends. He’ll not only want her at his mercy, he’ll want revenge. He’ll crave it.”
“That will make him more vulnerable to attack,” Will mused.
“Aye.” A grim smile curled Hugh’s mouth. “’Tis why we’ll be taking our time on the road. The longer he waits, the more impatient he’ll be. And ’twill give your fellow time to find Edward and return with a reply. He knows the route we’ll be taking.”
“De Beche may guess it, also.”
“You’re thinking he may try to waylay us? Why? He has no reason to think I’m anything but the duly appointed escort. And I doubt he would be so rash as to go against your writ. That will probably enrage him further,” he added with satisfaction. “And just when he thinks everything is restored to him, I’ll tell him Annith is married to me. That should tip him right over the edge.”
“By the pit! You want him enraged to the point of madness? Why?”
“Think, Will. What evidence do we have that Annith’s story is true? ’Tis her word against his. There are no other witnesses, unless we can turn his friends—and that isn’t likely since they’re as mired in vice as de Beche. If we call him into court, he’ll deny everything, and ’twould take months, if not years, to find people willing to testify about earlier victims. Nor will I have Annith questioned and her honor impugned, even by implication.”
Will nodded. “I wouldn’t want Maud to go through that,” he agreed. “Are you sure you won’t need my help?”
“My thanks, Will, but nay. I’ll take escort enough to keep de Beche from any rash action until we’re inside the keep. After that they’ll stop his men from interfering.”
“Well, you seem to have everything under control,” Will said, rising and stretching. “I’ll leave you to take your lady to the priory. Don’t be too long there,” he added, grinning. “I think your innocent little convent-reared lady has other plans for the afternoon.”
Hugh laughed and went to find Annith.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Two days later Annith decided there was one thing to be said for regular horse-riding. The twinges in her muscles had disappeared. As for other forms of exercise, she certainly had become accustomed to Hugh in a short amount of time. In truth she’d had such a glow about her when they’d left Worcester that he had ordered her, with a wicked gleam, to practise looking downcast.
They had reached Crofton-on-Severn the previous afternoon, where Herleve and Martin had given them a warm welcome. Their happy smiles had soon turned to shock, however, when they had learned why Annith had been trying to reach the priory. Amid exclamations of horror, they had agreed wholeheartedly to Hugh’s suggestion that they add to the company, with Herleve posing as Annith’s maidservant.
“A mature woman in attendance will look better than a young girl,” Hugh had said. “’Twill give more credence to the assumption that Annith has been properly chaperoned.”
After spending the night at Crofton castle, they had left early this morning in a rather different formation to the procession that had travelled to Worcester three days earlier. Hugh’s standard-bearer was now in the lead, the black and bronze pennant with its golden lion rampart flying proudly in the breeze. Hugh followed on his black destrier, but this time Sir Ranulf fitzWalter rode beside him on a large bay horse. Two men-at-arms were next, then Annith and Martin, Annith on her grey mare and Martin on another bay with Herleve riding pillion behind him. Bringing up the rear were several more men-at-arms.
All in all ’twas quite an impressive display, Annith decided.
“How are you faring, Herleve?” she asked the older woman.
“There’s a lot to be said for walking,” Herleve retorted. “But I will do well enough.”
“Aye,” agreed Martin gloomily. He eyed his horse’s ears as the animal twitched them in response to his voice. “Who knows what this creature will take it into his head to do.”
Annith opened her mouth to answer, but just then Hugh gave the signal to stop and she reined in her mount.
Hugh wheeled his horse around and rode back to her. “There’s a horseman coming toward us, through those woods,” he said. “How far are we from the castle, sweeting?”
Despite her determination to show no fear, Annith went so tense her horse shifted restlessly. Leaving Worcester in a glow was one thing. The thought of confronting de Beche at any moment was enough to smother it completely.
Hugh put out a gauntleted hand to steady the mare. “He won’t touch you, sweetheart, I swear it. Just remember to stay as close to the door as possible once we’re inside the hall. And when I tell you to get out, you get out. Fast.”
She nodded and glanced around. They had left the road about a mile back to ride directly across her lands, and now grassy meadows stretched before them with woodland to the left. “I think ’tis another two miles or more to the castle,” she said in answer to his question. “I didn’t ride when I was here before, so ’tis difficult to remember.”
“No matter. If de Beche posted a watch this far out, whoever it is will be riding to the castle to warn them, not coming toward us. Ah,” he said as the rider came into view. “I know those colors. ’Tis Edward’s courier. Will’s man must have given him our route and gone straight on to Worcester. Wait here,” he said to her, and cantered off to meet the rider.
Annith watched anxiously as the two men reined in their horses and spoke for several minutes. Then the courier handed Hugh a wrapped scroll, saluted him, and galloped off the way he’d come.
Hugh rode back to the company, a grim smile curling his lips. “Edward is at Kenilworth,” he said to Ranulf, who had come up to flank Annith’s other side. “Apparently some of the barons who escaped after Evesham have gone to earth there. ’Twill probably take months to starve them out. In the meantime I’m to take Annith’s castle from de Beche by whatever means necessary.” He unwrapped the scroll as he spoke and snapped it open with a flick of his wrist.
Under Annith’s worried gaze, he read swiftly. “Aye. ’Tis as I thought.”
“What?” she and Ranulf chorused.
Hugh grinned. “To look at the pair of you one would think we’re about to confront an army that outnumbers us three to one.”
“Already done that,” Ranulf muttered. “Don’t want to do it again. Even if we did win.”
“Be easy. De Beche doesn’t have an army. However, he has always taken care, according to Edward, to be on the King’s side in any conflict, which means Henry’s and Edward’s hands are tied.” He glanced at Ranulf. “But mine are not. I’m to look to my safety
.”
Ranulf nodded in satisfaction, wheeled his horse, and returned to his position.
“You are already looking to the safety of all of us,” Annith said. “What does the Prince mean by that?”
“’Tis just his way of giving advice,” Hugh said lightly. He reached out and laid a hand over hers. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I know what I’m doing. And you know how you’re to act. All will be resolved soon.”
There wouldn’t be much acting involved, Annith thought, as Hugh returned to the head of the column and gave the signal to start. She was sure anxiety was already etched on her face. She knew de Beche would resist arrest by any means to hand. She could only hope that Hugh had brought enough men to ensure a safe outcome.
* * *
When the castle came into view a short time later, Hugh had no doubts on that score. There were only a half dozen men-at-arms on the ramparts and, as they rode in under the portcullis, he saw no more than ten in the bailey. They were armed but at ease, swords in their scabbards, bows propped against the walls.
It seemed the courier had relayed his message convincingly. De Beche was not expecting trouble.
Hugh dismounted and went to lift Annith down. As he did so, de Beche appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the hall. He spared Hugh one hard stare, then began to descend, his gaze fixed on Annith. Hugh felt the shudder that went through her, but she stepped back as soon as her feet touched the ground, leaving him free to put himself in de Beche’s line of sight.
The man hadn’t changed much, Hugh thought, stripping off his gauntlets and stuffing them into a saddlebag as de Beche approached. His hulking frame carried more flesh, lines of dissipation furrowed his face, but there was still power in the bull-like neck and shoulders. And his eyes held the rapacious excitement of a predator who knows his prey is at last within reach.
“My lord,” he said when de Beche reached them. “I am Hugh de Verney of Buckland Manor, here at the behest of Lord William Beauchamp.”
“I have heard of you, my lord,” de Beche said curtly. “You are welcome.” He moved to the side so he could see Annith, and extended a hand, fingers beckoning imperiously. “Annetta, my dear, I am glad to see you back where you belong. We have all been very worried about you.”
Annith’s eyes were downcast, but Hugh knew she was aware of de Beche’s every move. She stepped back, deliberately disobeying the implicit command. De Beche’s eyes narrowed, his hand fisted briefly before he lowered it. Feral anticipation was coming off him in waves. It was under control, Hugh thought, but barely. He must have been licking his lips at the prospect of raping Annith since he had first seen her at the priory three months ago. Now fury, spurred by frustration and delay, raged just beneath his surface urbanity.
“I hope you will join me for a cup of wine before you leave, de Verney,” de Beche said, his voice harsh. “So I may thank you for restoring my ward to me.”
Hugh inclined his head.
“And you, my dearest Annetta,” he continued, “will wish to retire to your chamber. I believe you have not been well.”
He reached for her again, but Hugh forestalled him. “My lady,” he murmured. With a hand at Annith’s back, he moved her out of de Beche’s path and ushered her before him toward the keep. It was a gesture that would have been taken as simple courtesy, but it forced de Beche to the rear.
As they climbed the stairs, Hugh felt the space between his shoulder blades start to itch. He knew that only the presence of witnesses was stopping de Beche from plunging a sword into his back. He allowed himself a grim smile as he walked through the screen passage into the hall and turned to face his host.
Annith stayed within touching distance of him, until de Beche walked over to the high table where a servant was setting out cups and a flagon of wine. Then she took a few steps back toward the door. The servant fled through another door at the rear of the hall.
“My thanks, de Verney,” de Beche said, turning and coming forward to hand Hugh a wine cup. He lifted his own in acknowledgement. “You have restored to me a treasure beyond price.” He smiled as his gaze raked Annith from head to toe. “But what is this tale of a missing memory, my dear?”
“I fell and hit my head,” she said in a sulky tone.
“I see. And is your memory now restored?”
She nodded, eyes still downcast.
“I am happy to hear it. And thank the saints your injury was not caused by the same sickness of mind that spurred you to run away in the first place. God knows what dangers may have befallen you.” He looked at Hugh, brows raised. “I presume my ward could not travel to the priory after she was injured, and sought shelter at Worcester castle instead.”
“She was fortunate that Lord William was in residence,” Hugh said, glancing about the hall as though the matter was of little interest to him. Apart from the high table and an enormous chair, there was no other furniture in the room, which meant, he decided, that de Beche’s friends had quit the place.
“And fortunate, also, that you were available to escort her home,” de Beche continued. “You are somewhat out of your way, my lord.”
Hugh returned his gaze to his host and shrugged. “A day’s ride, no more.” He knew de Beche was fishing for information. He would want to know what tale Annith had told. And then he would want to see Hugh on his way.
“Well.” De Beche smiled, apparently convinced of Hugh’s disinterest. “We shall speak of that when you are more recovered, Annetta. Be assured you shall be cared for as if you were my own daughter.”
“Really, de Beche?” Hugh raised his brows. “You were intending to marry one who stood as a daughter to you?”
De Beche’s smile froze. “A figure of speech,” he said coldly, sparing Hugh a brief glance.
“Ah.” Hugh nodded, and transferred his wine cup to his left hand.
De Beche didn’t notice. He was too busy studying Annith as though he could drag the truth from her by the power of his gaze. “Was it our forthcoming marriage that caused you to flee, Annetta? My poor child, you had only to tell me of your maidenly fears. I would have been eager to allay them.”
She looked up at that. “Indeed, my lord? What of your friends? Would you have allayed my fears about them as well?”
De Beche’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flicked to Hugh for the merest instant, then returned to Annith. “I don’t understand you, my dear. My friends were here for the wedding. Did they make any improper advances toward you? Try to steal a kiss? Accost you in a dark corner mayhap?”
He was growing more confident with each question, Hugh thought, knowing Annith could only answer in the negative. When she didn’t answer at all, he smiled again and turned to Hugh, hands spread. All gracious apology. All eagerness to explain, to show indulgence for female megrims.
“My lord, ’tis easy to see what happened here. The dear child suffered a fit of nerves brought on by our forthcoming marriage. She would not be the first. What can I say?”
“You could tell me how you were going to explain the death of another wife so soon after the wedding, de Beche.”
The man’s face went slack with shock, his hands fell to his sides. He stared blankly at Hugh for a moment then shook his head, as if shaking off a blow. “I don’t know—”
“Aye, there is a lot you don’t know.” Hugh glanced up at the wall above the high table. “About this castle for instance.” When de Beche followed his gaze, he continued softly. “Things like hidden rooms and spyholes and secret stairs. Which means nothing stays secret for long if someone thinks to listen.”
De Beche swung around, his breathing harsh. “You speak in riddles, de Verney. I don’t know what lies you’ve been told or by whom. Was it a servant? Impossible. My courier? Auden!” he roared suddenly, the sound rebounding off the walls.
Hugh saw Annith flinch but she took a step forward. “Do not blame your courier,” she said, biting off each word.
De Beche gaped, stunned anew by the abrupt change in her. No sulky defian
ce or meekness now. Eyes blazing, she faced him as though every crusading knight in her ancestry stood at her back. Contempt and disgust coated every word with ice. “’Twas I who heard your plans for me. I who heard you gloating with your friends over your depravity and vice. I.”
“What?” De Beche looked up at the wall again. “But—that’s not possible. We were in the solar. We—” He stopped, his face contorting with rage as he realized what he’d said.
Hugh slid the next words in as lethally as a dagger between the ribs.
“Your plans are for naught, in any case, de Beche. Annetta is already married. To me.”
De Beche’s face turned purple, his eyes bulged. He glanced once toward the bailey, then turned a feral stare on Hugh and began to move his head slowly from side to side.
Hugh braced himself. “Aye, no use shouting for your men. Mine have been holding them at sword point from the moment we entered this hall. In fact, they’ve probably trussed them up like so many chickens by now. The castle is mine. And so,” he said with ice-cold satisfaction, “is Annetta.”
The name acted on de Beche like the slash of a spur. He roared, tore his sword from its scabbard and charged.
Hugh hurled the wine cup aside and yanked his own sword free. “Get out!” he yelled at Annith as he closed with de Beche.
Annith was already fleeing from the hall. A deafening clash of steel followed her as she raced to the top of the outer stairs. Her gaze flicked over the group of bound men in the center of the bailey, barely seeing them. She couldn’t find Ranulf anywhere in the blurry sea of faces turned her way.
“Ranulf!” she screamed. “Ranulf!”
She saw him then, already sprinting toward her, yelling at a man-at-arms to follow him. Martin joined in the race, with Herleve running after him. The three men leapt up the stairs as Annith turned and fled back into the screen passage. Ranulf was just in time to stop her before she ran headlong into the hall.
