By Arrangement

by Madeline Hunter

  Pack? These men planned to take her someplace. Where and for what possible purpose?

  Her mind frantically assessed her danger. How had they gotten into this house with its surrounding wall? Where was Sieg?

  “Do you understand? Don't raise your hands to the gag.”

  She dumbly nodded. The hands fell off her one by one and the talking man eased away. Shaking with terror, she slid out of the bed, grateful that she had not lit a candle and that these men could not see her naked body very well in the moonlight.

  She staggered on wobbly legs to the wardrobe, trying to control the panic that threatened to cloud her mind of all reason and sense. Despite their warnings, she wanted to run and run and let the terror consume her as she did. She rashly decided that in the blackness of the wardrobe she would remove the gag and scream for help.

  Upon entering, she saw the door to the garden open. Enough light seeped through to make the lines of her shadow visible and her actions obvious.

  They watched as she fumbled for a loose gown and pulled it on. One of the men found a small traveling trunk, and she stuffed clothing into it, not knowing what she grabbed.

  Thrusting her feet into shoes, she turned to them. She tried to remain calm although the deathly panic still wanted to unhinge her. Her only hope was to keep her wits about her. If Sieg still lived, he would save her when they tried to leave. She would make as much noise as possible on the courtyard stones in hopes of awakening him and the others.

  “Now we will walk down those steps out there and go to the back of the garden,” the man said.

  Her heart sank. They had come in over the wall, not through the gate. Sieg slept unknowingly in the front building. He and the others would never hear.

  They surrounded her like a prisoner being moved and guided her down the stairs and out the gate to the main garden. At the back wall two of them disappeared up a crude ladder.

  “Now you. There's another on the other side. Take care, my lady. The drop could hurt you,” the Scot said.

  She tottered up, turned her body blindly, and felt for the wooden slats on the other side. Hands plucked her off halfway down and set her on the ground. They walked up the alley to where horses waited. Someone tied her hands before lifting her onto a saddle. Being bound made her feel even more helpless. They trailed out through the city lanes, towing her along.

  She watched the streets anxiously, hoping to see the flames of torches that indicated other night travelers or the ward constable. If they were stopped, would the constable notice her gag? Would these men use their steel if they were challenged?

  No challenge came. Her fear grew as she noted their approach to the city's gate. To her anguished dismay, the gate guard let them pass.

  The lead man continued straight ahead after they passed through the wall. She straightened in shock. They headed for the northern road.

  North. Northumberland. Stephen?

  The Percy family held lands in Scotland and on England's border in Northumberland. Was this Scot one of their retainers?

  Stephen abducting her? Now? It would be madness. Nay, not Stephen. Unless his pride had been wounded because he had lost his game to a mercer. During tournaments, Stephen had never been especially gracious in defeat. And if not Stephen, then who? She could think of no other possibility.

  As they rode silently through the night, she told herself that Stephen would never do something so absurd, but a part of her worried that in fact he might. He might even consider it chivalrous and romantic and a grand gesture of salvation.

  Duels and abductions are the stuff of songs, not life. Unless you were dealing with some childish girl and a foolish knight. Stephen, she suspected, could be very foolish.

  He had seemed in the end to accept her refusal at that dinner. Had he later reconsidered her resolve? Had his conceit led him to conclude that she fought him against her heart's true desire?

  Dear saints. David would kill them both.

  Her misgivings flared when, some miles north of London, she spied shadows on the road ahead. Her small group approached two other figures on horses and stopped.

  “You made quick work of it,” a woman's voice said.

  Christiana's eyes widened and she peered in the dark toward the hooded cloak. She knew this voice. This was Stephen's doing. And once again he had enlisted Lady Catherine's help.

  Catherine's arm stretched out. “Here is the coin you will need. Do it exactly as I told you, and do not delay. The man will pay you your fee. And remember, she is not to be harmed.”

  Christiana made a loud sound from behind her gag. Lady Catherine turned toward her. “You want to speak, child? Remove her gag.”

  Dirty fingers pried the wadded cloth out of her mouth. She gasped deep breaths of air before speaking.

  “Where do you take me?” she demanded.

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  “If you abduct me for ransom, tell me now. Name your price and return me home. I will pay it.”

  “A generous offer, but there will be no ransom,” Catherine said.

  “Then why? Who bids you do this? Stephen Percy?”

  Catherine laughed lightly. “All will be explained in good time, my dear. In the end you will thank me for this.”

  Did Catherine assume, like so many others at court, that she must welcome redemption in Stephen's arms?

  “My husband will kill you for this,” she hissed toward the men who waited. She realized that it was the first time she had claimed David's protection instead of Morvan's. But David would kill them. The thing about property was that one didn't like it stolen.

  “By the time he finds you, it may not matter so much to him,” Catherine said. “He will have bigger concerns. Take her now, and remember that she is not to be molested or handled. Do not try to run away, Christiana, for they have their orders to deliver you and will tie you to the horse if they have to.”

  “This is madness—” she began to protest, but the gag suddenly filled her mouth again and she choked on the words.

  Lady Catherine and her silent companion turned south while her captors tugged the reins and started north. Christiana held the front of the saddle with bound hands and swayed into the animal's quicker walk.

  North. Of all of the times for Stephen Percy to finally decide to live out some chanson!

  Didn't he remember that violent deaths and jealous murders often ended those long love songs?

  CHAPTER 18

  DAVID LET HIS father's blood flow. He unblocked it from the recesses and fissures in which he kept it dammed and controlled. He permitted all of its dark strength to wash through him.

  Sieg walked beside him as he rode across the courtyard. He looked down on the Swede's furrowed brow. Sieg blamed his own negligence for Christiana's disappearance and would not rest contented until he had helped bring her back. David would welcome his friend's help in the end, but not right now.

  “The swords, Sieg. Don't forget to pack them,” he said. Sieg nodded and David passed to the gate. It was possible that he wouldn't need the preparations that he was leaving Sieg to make. Possibly he would find her elsewhere. He doubted it, however. Still, he would have to check.

  He paused and looked back at the buildings where he had lived his youth and manhood. If things turned out as he expected, he would never see this home again.

  His father's blood didn't give a damn. He smiled thinly. Nay, no sentiment there. Not when faced with a quest or a goal. Or revenge.

  He had known for years that it was in him and what it could do. As a youth he had examined his face and soul to know what came from the Abyndons and what came from the other side. He had tried to reconstruct the image of his absent father from the disconnected pieces that bore no Abyndon legacy. The love of beauty. The emotional restraint. The dark calculations. The ability to kill. Even Gilbert's self-righteous cruelty could not match his own inclinations to cold ruthlessness. That in particular had always been in him, a strength to be used and a weakness to b
e feared, and it went far beyond the shrewd analysis taught as part of a mercer's trade. His mother's blood had tempered it some, but the real lessons in controlling it had been David Constantyn's greatest gift to him.

  It had been his father's half that had hurt Christiana.

  He would check London and Westminster first, just to be sure.

  A short while later he rode into the courtyard of Gilbert de Abyndon's house for the first time in his life. A groom approached for his horse but he ignored the man and tied the reins to a post.

  The household sat to dinner when he entered the hall. He had planned it this way. He did not want Margaret to have to confront her husband's wrath if he came when Gilbert wasn't home, and he wanted plenty of people around so that maybe he wouldn't smash his fist into Gilbert's face when his uncle insulted him, as the man was sure to do.

  Gilbert looked up from his conversation as David approached his table, and one would have thought that the man had seen an apparition, so complete was his shock. Margaret visibly paled.

  David simply nodded acknowledgment of his uncle and turned his attention to Margaret.

  “I am seeking Christiana, Margaret.”

  She frowned. “Seeking?”

  “She has left the house.”

  “She is better then?”

  So Christiana had not confided in her new friend. “Aye. But she is two days gone, Margaret. Did she come to you?”

  Realization took hold, but Margaret hid it from her expression. Gilbert proved less discreet.

  “So your noble wife has left you so soon?” he jeered softly.

  “Is she here, Margaret?”

  She shook her head.

  “You have never known your place, boy,” Gilbert snarled. “The conceit of marrying such a woman! Of course she is gone. It is a wonder she stayed this long.”

  David managed to ignore him. “Do you know where she is, Margaret?”

  Poor Margaret shook her head again. Distressed eyes flickered up to his. Her hand rested protectively on her slightly swelled belly.

  Gilbert laughed. “It is a pleasure to see great pride humbled. Such are the wages of that sin. Look you to the beds in the castles of the realm for her, nephew. Those women have no morals.”

  His hand shot out and he grabbed his uncle by the neck. Gilbert cried out and fell back in his chair. David let his arm and hand follow until he had the man pinned against the wooden back. The hall fell silent and a dozen pairs of eyes watched.

  “You will say no more, Uncle, or I will release your young wife from the misery of this marriage,” he said. “Now, you will permit Margaret to accompany me to the door and you will not follow. Do you agree to this?”

  Gilbert glared at him. David squeezed. Gilbert nodded.

  Margaret eased off her bench and came around the table. David dropped his hand.

  “I am sorry,” he said as they walked across the hall. “There was nothing for it but to come here.”

  “I understand. Do not worry. He will sputter for a few days and speak ill of you to all he meets, but that is nothing new, is it?”

  David paused at the door. “Did she ever speak of Sir Stephen Percy to you?”

  Margaret's surprise and shock were genuine. “Nay, David. She spoke of no man to me except you and her brother. Even when she described a humorous event at court, the players had no significance.”

  He nodded and turned to go. “Be well, Margaret.”

  She stopped him, and stepped out into the courtyard so that she could speak privately. “Why do you ask me about this man, David? Do you think Christiana has run away?”

  “It is possible.”

  “With this man?” She looked at him incredulously. “I always thought that you were the exception to the rule that men were fools, David. If she held another in her heart, then I did not know her at all. She spoke only of you, and with warmth and affection and respect. If she is gone, it is not of her will, I am sure.” She frowned with distress. “She is in danger, isn't she? Oh dear God …”

  “I do not think that she is in danger,” he said soothingly. “Go back to your husband now. Tell him that I would not let you leave me until you answered my questions.”

  “You must find her …”

  “I will find her.”

  David stood against the wall of the practice yard and watched Morvan Fitzwaryn swing his battle-ax and land it against his opponent's shield. A bright sheen of sweat glistened on Morvan's naked chest and shoulders.

  David sensed a movement behind him and turned to see two women peering over the wall as they strolled past. They eyed the tall knight appreciatively and giggled some comments to each other behind raised hands before they moved on.

  He waited. Morvan had noticed him already. Eventually this practice must end.

  Soon it did. Morvan's opponent gestured a finish. The two knights walked over to a water trough and sluiced themselves. Morvan came over as he shook the water from his head.

  “You want me?” he asked, his voice still a little breathless from his exertions.

  “Aye. Three nights ago Christiana left the house. None saw her and she told no one where she was going.”

  Morvan had been in the process of wiping his brow. His hand froze there.

  “Did she come here, Morvan?”

  “Nay.”

  “You said that you would have taken her elsewhere if possible. Have you done so now?”

  Morvan glared at him. “If I had taken her from you, I would have let you see me do it.”

  David began walking away.

  “She has not gone to him,” Morvan called after him.

  He pivoted. “How do you know?”

  “Because she told me she would not.”

  “Then you received more assurances than I did.”

  “Why give assurances to a man who does not believe them?” Morvan asked tightly as he walked up to him.

  “I will know the truth of it soon enough, I suppose.”

  Morvan stared thoughtfully at the ground. “The last time she left and came here, she let you know where she was.”

  “Aye.”

  “But not this time. And she told me that she no longer cares for him. If she is with Percy, David, I do not think that it is her choice.”

  “I thought of that. You know the man better than me. Is it in his nature to do this? To abduct her?”

  Morvan glanced blindly around the practice yard. “Hell if I know. He is vain and conceited and, I always thought, a little dull in the wits. The women say that he does not take rejection well. The men know that he is quick with a challenge if he thinks himself slighted.”

  David absorbed this. He should have met Sir Stephen or at least learned more about him. Pride had prevented it, but that had been a mistake. One should always know one's competitors' strengths and weaknesses. Even a green apprentice knew that.

  “I will let you know when I find her.”

  “Do you ride north, then?” Morvan asked cautiously.

  “Aye.”

  “I will come with you.”

  “I will go alone. For one thing, the King will need you here as the army musters. For another, I do not plan to do this in a knight's way.”

  He turned to leave, but Morvan gripped his arm. He looked into sparkling, troubled eyes so like those others.

  “You must promise me, if you find her there, that you will give her a chance to speak. If there is an explanation, you must hear it,” Morvan said.

  David glanced down on the hand restraining him, and then at the intense bright eyes studying his face. Did he look as dangerous as Morvan's worry suggested?

  “I will hear her out, brother.”

  He left then, to meet Sieg and Oliver and begin the journey to Northumberland. First, however, he made his way to the stone stairs that led to Edward's private chambers.

  David and Oliver eased along the gutter of the inn, their backs pressed against the steep roof. Below them the lane that led to this hostelry appeared deserted e
xcept for the large shadow of a man resting casually against a fence rail. The shadow's head looked up to check their progress.

  It went without saying that Sieg could not join them up here. He weight would have broken the tiles. He would wait below and then enter the normal way, dispatching in his wake any inconvenient squires or companions who might try to interfere.

  “This reminds me of the old days,” Oliver whispered cheerfully as they carefully set their steps into the gutter tiles. “Remember that time we boys got into the grocer's loft through the roof? Filled our pockets with salt.”

  “Nothing so practical, Oliver. It was cinnamon, and worth more than gold. They'd have hung us if they caught us, children or not.”

  “A great adventure, though.”

  “At least your mother used what you took. Mine knew it was stolen, gave it away, and dragged me to the priest.”

  “Her sensitivities on such things are no doubt why your life took a turn for the worse when you got older,” Oliver said. “School and all.”

  “No doubt.”

  Oliver's foot slipped and a tile crashed to the ground. Both men froze and waited for the sounds that indicated someone had heard.

  “I've a good mind to slit this knight's throat just to express my annoyance that he was so hard to find,” Oliver muttered in the silence.

  David smiled thinly. Percy had certainly been hard to find, and the length of their search had not improved David's own humor much. The man seemed to be hiding. Not a good sign.

  They had ridden first to his father's estate, then his uncle's, and finally to the properties which Stephen himself managed. There had been no need to approach the castles and manor houses. A few hours in the nearest town or village gave them the information they sought. Young Sir Stephen had not been seen for at least a week. Finally, on the road south, a chance conversation with a passing jongleur had revealed that Percy had been resting at length at this public inn several miles north of Newcastle.

  David surveyed the ground below him, dimly lit by one torch. Sieg glanced up and nodded. They were just above the window to Stephen's chamber on the top level of the inn. The warm June night had caused the window to be left open.