Sanctuary of Roses mhg-2

by Колин Глисон

  Tricky walked quickly alongside Clem, brushing against him as he limped along rather briskly for a man with an injured leg…but she forbore to point that out. She was as eager as he to complete their mission and allow Gavin and the others in…but at the same time, the excitement tripped her heartbeat up, and her nerves sang. And she was with Clem—who’d refused to let her go alone—who’d even ordered his master to stay behind so that he could accompany her. Mayhap the man was not so stone-headed as she’d thought!

  They made their way across the bailey, toward what appeared to be the main entrance to the hall, when Tricky suddenly noticed a familiar figure leaving the hall. “Rohan!” she gasped, whipping her hand back into Clem’s gut. Rohan—the traitor—would most certainly recognize Clem…and quite possibly recognize her.

  Without a second thought, she grabbed Clem by the tunic and, using his own momentum, propelled him toward the wall of a building. He pulled her with him and she slammed into his arms, and suddenly their mouths were thrashing together. Clem moved, rolling along the wall, until she was pressed between his comforting bulk and the raw wooden planks of what smelled like the stable.

  At last, he pulled free and turned his head slightly to look in the direction Rohan had gone. “I’d forgotten about him,” he said between breaths. “Bastard. I’ve half a mind to take care of him right now… ”

  “Nay, Clem,” Tricky plucked at his sleeve, “we must find Madelyne. We’ll need to be mindful of Rohan, but I wish to waste no further time. We must find her and find a way to get Gavin into the keep.”

  “Aye,” he replied, returning his attention to her. His eyes bored into hers. “Tricky, do you not think you have escaped my wrath for this harebrained scheme…I will have words with you after this is all over.”

  She could not help but smile up at him, and ticked at his nose with her fingernail. “Clem, sweetling, I should be quite disappointed if you did not follow through on such a threat…a tongue-lashing from you should be only one of many such repercussions of our relationship.” Her coy smile and lilt to her voice sent a very different message than the one he must have expected. She swore his face tinged pink.

  But now was not the time to carry this further. Tricky and Clem agreed to separate, explore the hall and the outside of the keep, and meet back at the stables within an hour.

  “Have a care for yourself,” he told her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Then, slumping over his big stick, Clem hobbled off to examine the stables and other outbuildings.

  Tricky entered the hall, and found that serfs had finished clearing the food and platters of the midday meal from the rows of table. She tried to blend into the activity by picking up a tray, and following one of the other serfs, but her attention was caught by the two men who sat at the high table.

  She paused, holding a wooden platter that oozed with grease, and looked at them. Tricky knew who they must be…Lord Fantin de Belgrume, the handsome man with the pale blond hair that rose from a widow’s peak just off the center of his forehead, and his cohort: a slender, younger man with dark hair and soulful eyes who looked harmless. As she watched, de Belgrume laughed at some jest from his companion, and the beauty of his face, and the warmth of his laugh startled her. How could someone so beautiful be the monster that Madelyne feared so?

  Suddenly, the other man—Tavis, Gavin had said was his name—looked at her and their eyes locked. Panic rose into her throat and she turned abruptly to take the platter she still held, but a peremptory voice made her halt in her tracks.

  “You, there! You, with the red hair!”

  Tricky froze, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to choke her. She turned slowly, waiting to hear a call for the guards to come down upon her…but instead the man called again, “Bring my master that wine!”

  Thank the good Lord the man pointed to a table nearby that held several bottles of wine, else Tricky would have surely given herself away. With a quick bob of her head, she dropped the platter back onto the table where she’d picked it up, and hurried over to get the wine.

  Her hands were slick with sweat and she nearly tripped over her skirts when she approached the high table, but de Belgrume didn’t appear to notice. He pored over a curling piece of parchment while Tavis rested his elbows on the table.

  “M-my lord,” Tricky gave a brief curtsey and sloshed wine into de Belgrume’s goblet. She was about to set the bottle down on the table when Tavis straightened up in his chair.

  “I don’t recall seeing you before,” he said, his dark gaze sweeping over her. He was a handsome man, with slender fingers and a sharp tone in his voice.

  She gulped, curtseyed, and stammered, “Me brother and I—we just become here this day.”

  A gleam that made Tricky’s belly twist leaked into his eyes and he crooked a finger at her. “A shy one, are you?” He looked at her again, more slowly and with greater weight than a moment before. Tricky felt his attention pause at her generous breasts and then sweep over her hips and back up to her face. “You needn’t be shy here at Tricourten. We treat our guests quite well…” he glanced at de Belgrume, who appeared to be in some other world, his lips moving as if in silent prayer, “unless they are family members.” Tavis smirked at Tricky and his hand snaked out to snag her sleeve.

  She allowed him to tug her toward him—what other choice did she have?—and this might be an opportunity to learn more about where Madelyne was. The next she knew, Tricky found herself settled on his lap. Mayhap she was foolish not to be afraid…but she did not believe anything Tavis might have in store for her would be worse than what Madelyne faced. Her resolve strengthened, Tricky managed a coy smile—subtle, for she did not want to appear too eager—and managed to squirm her generous bottom invitingly into his thigh.

  “Family members? Aye, my lord, they can be trying ones can they not?” She purposely reached forward, brushing her breast near—but not quite touching—his arm as she grabbed the wine from where she’d placed it on the table. “Me brother is more bother than ’e’s worth all the time.” She straightened up, “Wine, my lord?”

  He glanced at his master, and Tricky saw that the other man had begun to slump in his seat. “He’ll rest for a time—he is weary from praying and fasting these last days. Now, soon, all will be aright, as he has found the answer to that which he seeks…aye, wine I’ll have. And that’ll not be all I’ll be having,” he added, his eyes fastened to her breasts.

  Tricky felt a roil of nervousness pump her stomach. Mayhap this was moving too quickly and she would find herself in a position in which she could not handle…best pull on a shy face for a time. “Of course, my lord,” she told him. Rising from his lap—ostensibly to pour his drink—she shifted away and managed to remain standing and looking directly into his face.

  When Tavis would have reached for her, she stepped lightly back. “My lord, I must find my brother… ”

  “Nay, not so quickly. He is likely chasing some other wench,” Tavis told her with a sly smile, “and will not even notice that you do not attend him. You may attend me for some time…it has been long since I’ve seen such a comely wench here at Tricourten.”

  “Of course, my lord.” She curtseyed again and watched as he drained his goblet. Mayhap if she plied him with enough wine… She refilled his goblet as Tavis tugged her back onto his lap. Nervously, she glanced at de Belgrume. He had collapsed forward onto the table, his face planted in the center of the parchment that curled up around his ears.

  Tavis slipped his hand, quick as a wink, down the front of her chemise and Tricky nearly leaped off his lap. His fingers sought her flesh and gave a firm squeeze before he extracted his hand and tweaked her chin with the same pinch. “Very nice. ’Tis glad I am that you travel with your brother and not a husband…else it would be rather uncomfortable for him.” He smiled, and she was reminded of a wolf when she saw the way his eye-teeth gleamed.

  “’Tis said that he,” she tilted her head toward de Belgrume, “studies the great physicks…do you
assist him in his experiments?”

  Tavis drank more wine, slopping it over the side of the goblet when he set it down. With a quick glance at his sleeping master, he used a rag to wipe up the mess as he replied, “Aye, that I do. He is the master, chosen by God, to find the secrets of the ancients.” He chuckled a soft, eager laugh and slogged his hand across his mouth. “He has worked for many years to find the answers, and now he has put the last peg into place. We shall soon be more powerful than even the king…even the pope. And I shall be at my master’s side.”

  She filled his goblet, noticing that the bottle was nearly empty…and knowing that she would need more. “You are?” she prompted, fluttering her eyelashes even as he spewed wine-laden breath in her face. “You must be so very smart to do such things!”

  “Aye, that I am…but my master…he is the gifted one. He is the one to whom God speaks.” He stood so quickly that he nearly knocked her backward. “Come…I will show you our laboratory. He sleeps and will not mind.” Tavis staggered over a dog lying beneath their feet, and cast another glance at de Belgrume. Gently, he raised the snoring man’s head and settled him back in his chair, slipping a rolled-up cloak beneath his neck. “He must have his rest if we are to work this night,” he explained, rolling up the parchment and slipping it under his arm. “I shall awaken him later, after you and I have had our…tour of the laboratory.”

  Tricky’s chest tightened as fear and apprehension rose within her as Tavis closed his strong, thin fingers around her wrist and pulled her after him.

  Twenty-Eight

  Clem finished his exploration of the bailey and outbuildings in short order, and decided to enter the hall to reconnoiter with Tricky if she’d completed her own search. He’d found something that might work for an unobtrusive entrance—a gate that was guarded, but with only one guard…and one guard could easily be disposed of from the inside once they determined the routine and schedule.

  The great hall was nearly empty when Clem entered. At the high dais, a man slumped back in his chair, snoring comfortably…and ’twas the shock of white-blond hair that identified him to Clem. Fantin. He’d half a mind to put an end to this right then, and send the man to a burning grave with the help of the dagger that weighted his thigh…but that would be Gavin’s honor and Clem knew that the time was not yet right.

  He looked around and saw nothing of Tricky. Unease prickled his spine…where else could the woman be, unless she’d slipped from the hall before he came in? He’d make his way back to the stable where they were to meet.

  With a frown and gusty sigh, Clem turned and came face to face with Rohan.

  * * *

  Tricky, whose hand was imprisoned within Tavis’s grasp, hurried down a narrow, winding stair in his wake. She thought she saw a small shadow scuttle from a corner and dart beneath her feet, and she stifled a shriek.

  Where was Tavis taking her…and what would he do with her once they arrived?

  She prayed that at least her risk would come to fruition, and that she would see Madelyne wherever it was they were bound.

  At last, they reached a small oaken door, heavily barred. Tavis released her hand, and, giving her an eager, sweet smile, said, “One moment, my dear, and you shall see what it is we have worked for.”

  It took him several moments to force the bar out of its metal slot, and with a grunt, he pushed the door open. Immediately, a putrid smell burst from the room and Tricky nearly gagged at the fumes.

  “Come, my dear,” he told her, drawing her into a cave-like chamber lit with an overwhelming number of sconces burning on the walls.

  Tricky’s eyes darted about and fastened on a long table near one end of the room. A figure lay on it, but was so shadowed she couldn’t tell even if it was a man or a woman. When Tavis tugged her arm—the man was like a small child faced with a room of sweets—she was forced to follow him to the opposite side of the chamber.

  The smell seemed to have lessened, so Tricky could breathe more freely…but when she was faced with the snake heads and skeletons of small rodents, and jars and bottles of foul-looking liquid and slimy solids, she felt her head grow light and she swayed against Tavis.

  “What is it, my little chick?” he asked, leering down at her, one hand on either side of her hips, trapping her against the table. Suddenly, she felt very frightened and it was all Tricky could do to keep her face blank of fear.

  “Naught’n, my lord,” she told him. “I betripped m’self and nearly fell on your work here… ” Swallowing hard, she reached up to trail a single finger down the side of his face. “I cannot believe you know all of this! Tell me about what you do with these…things.”

  It was the right response. Tavis nearly clapped his hands with glee and, towing her about the laboratory, pointed out everything from instruments of extraction—she did not ask what they extracted—and devices designed to boil and purge and grind and beat the ingredients to whatever potion they might be creating.

  When they made their way over to the side where the figure lay, unmoving, upon the table, Tavis paused to look into Tricky’s eyes. “This,” he told her, a slim hand with one long fingernail pointing at the body, whose face was turned away, “will be our salvation. She will hear the Word of God, she will praise Him and serve Him and will be our salvation!”

  He stared down at her, his breath rising and falling, and as if in a trance, reached out a hand to touch the figure that lay supine. Tricky stepped forward to get a look at her face.

  It was Madelyne… and she appeared to be alive!

  “What—who—is that?” she asked boldly, slipping her hand into the crook of Tavis’s arm.

  He appeared to shake from his trance and turned to look at her, the dreaminess gone from his eyes. “’Tis the daughter of my master. She is recently returned to us from days serving God in an abbey. My master has decreed that she shall serve God here, for the good of my master.”

  Tavis chuckled again, twirling against her in his glee. “She has been wed, and my master fears that she has been tainted by the touch of an impure man.” Tavis continued, his face shriveling into a dark mask, “Despite her imperfections, now, my master will not allow me to touch her…though I burn to do so.” He turned to look at Tricky again, lust glazing his face. “I shall have to settle for the likes of you…but I vow, ’twill be to your enjoyment as well.”

  Tricky swallowed, her tight throat dry and tasting of bile. Tavis, who appeared to have no concerns that she would carry tales, explained, “We wait only until she has been cleansed—exorcised—from the repugnance of coupling. My master has many ways of removing the evil from within her.” He fingered a long, slender whip and looked at her. “She will not see the light of day again, for she must serve in silence and piety and for my master only.”

  Tricky blanched and terror clawed up her spine.

  “He plans to wait for another moon to be certain she does not carry her husband’s child…and if she does, aye, he must relieve her of that burden so that she might carry a more important one.”

  Tricky slipped from his grasp as he flung his arms wide to encompass the chamber, the realm, the earth…and she stepped backward. If there was any chance that she could sneak away…

  “Where are you going?” Tavis turned, his voice booming in command.

  He lunged for her and she side-stepped, crashing into a table and knocking a mortar and pestle to the floor. “I—I must find my brother…he will worry about me,” Tricky said. “I would find him, then return to watch you at your work,” she added, resting a hip suggestively against the table. Purposely breathing heavily, she forced her breasts to rise and fall just beneath his nose and watched as his attention floundered between her chest and the work in the laboratory.

  “Nay…I will have a message sent to him. You may not leave yet.” He reached and closed a hand around her breast, then his other hand pulled her toward him so that her hips slammed into his. She felt an unmistakable bulge thrusting between them and her heart began to race
.

  Before she knew it, she was pushed back against a table and Tavis had yanked her skirts up to her thighs. Panicked, Tricky began to kick and pound at him, but his weight, though slender, was strong, and bore her to the table. His groping hands pinched at her, causing great stabs of pain to shoot through her breasts. She began to sob, kicking, fighting, rolling her head from side to side as her legs were forced apart.

  Suddenly, the door swung open and a voice boomed into the room. “Master Tavis! You are needed urgently up in the hall!”

  Tavis paused only for a moment, then returned to Tricky. “Nay, I am occupied, de Masin… I’ll be there in a bit.”

  “’Tis one of Mal Verne’s men—he is here!”

  That news caused Tavis to straighten and whip his head about to look over his shoulder. Tricky’s heart pounded in her throat as she struggled anew. Clem! Did he mean Clem?

  “Help me with this and I’ll be up.” He stepped away from her, and Tricky slammed her knees together and tried to roll away, but he held her firm. Leering close to her face, he said, “I will return to you, my little coquette… and you will not only watch us make history, but you will enjoy it as well!”

  Tricky gulped under the hand that had closed around her neck and looked away from his eyes that had turned from soft and velvety to pure, hard lust. The other man came over and they tied her wrists and arms together, forcing her to slump onto a stool against the wall near Madelyne’s still body.

  Tavis raced out of the room, humming gleefully, but the other man stayed behind. Tricky watched as he approached Madelyne, stiffening as she saw him bend toward her face.

  “Madelyne,” he whispered, reaching to touch her face. “Madelyne…are you awake?” He glanced at Tricky and in his face she saw concern. “Do you not speak or I’ll leave you here for Tavis,” he snapped at her, then returned to the prone figure before him.