by Amy Mullen
Slowly, she lifted her gaze, "And what, dear brother, do you want me to do about it?"
"You will tell me how to get in!" he said, jumping at the door as if he thought he could fly through the bars.
"I will not," she said. "This is your battle, Gavin. If you want Blackstone so badly, mayhap you should figure it out on your own."
"You test me," he stated. He paced a few steps, glared at her through the bars, and then left.
Gemma let out a deep breath as his footsteps dissolved into nothingness. Maybe he would finally let her rest. The rains had stopped, and the room about her was warmer. She wanted nothing more than to sleep.
Light footsteps approached, almost too quiet to hear. She heard wood being thrown into the fire. Gemma was greatly relieved, as no one had been there to tend to it and it would not have made it through the night.
"Gemma?" a female voice said.
She sat up on the dirty pallet. It was her sister-in-law Helena. "I am here," she said.
"Are you well? I cannot see you."
"Aye," she said as she stood and moved toward the door. The candle Helena held did little to light the room, and she wanted to get a better look at this woman.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked. "Gavin says you are to be here a few more days before you can go, and I want to see you are comfortable. This must be terrible for you, but you shall be home soon enough, I believe."
Gemma shook her head. Gavin would never allow her to go back to Blackstone alive. For some reason he was telling his wife a different story. That was the opening Gemma needed. If he could not tell his wife the truth, he must know she would disapprove. Helena might be the one to get her out of there.
"Listen, please," Gemma whispered. "I am not feeling well. I must get home. I do not think my brother has any intentions of releasing me. Is there anything you can do to help me? Our sister is but nine, and she must be fearful because she cannot find me. Our mother died, so I am the only mother she has."
Helena paled and backed a few feet from the door. "I am so sorry, but you must be mistaken. Gavin said he would release you soon. I am certain your sister will be fine until then. My husband would never hurt anyone."
She knew nothing! Gemma sensed a weakness and decided to press it a bit further. "Where has Gavin been going while you have been here?"
"On patrol," she said. "The Bigods have been so kind to us. Your father sent word we could not return, and after what Henry said, Gavin did not know what to do. So we came here. He has been out on his destrier, keeping an eye out on the Bigod land for Hugh. He said 'twas the least he could do to repay their kindness."
Gemma whispered, "Listen to me carefully. Gavin has not been on patrol. He has been hurting people, including our father. He almost died, and others did not live. Father never said Gavin could not return. We did not know where he was. He's lying to you. Please, Helena, get me out of here before he kills me too."
Her sister-in-law paled even more and backed up against the far wall of the passageway. "You must be mistaken. Gavin is gentle and kind and is only holding you here so he may retrieve what is rightfully his. He would not harm his own father!"
"What reason does he have for holding me?" she said, desperate to get through to her. "Why would he do this to his own sister?"
"'Tis de Reymes. He is in the way, and Gavin must remove him. He stole Gavin's inheritance. Once he can get it back, you will be free and welcome in our home."
With a sigh, Gemma moved away from her. "Thank you for your kindness," she said.
"Aye," the woman said with a smile, "I shall return later and bring you more clothes and blankets."
The light of her candle disappeared, and Gemma watched the flames in the fireplace dance, throwing grotesque yet intriguing shadows upon the walls around her. Tomorrow would be a new day. She just hoped it would not be her last day.
Later, a sound woke her from a deep sleep. She lay there quietly, not sure if she had actually heard something when the sound repeated. As she listened, she adjusted the linen balled under her head in hopes of finding some comfort. Helena had brought blankets as promised. At least she was warm now.
She sat up. The light from the fire was dim, and she could see almost nothing. She put her hand over her racing heart and wondered if she would ever survive this. All she wanted was to be back in her own bed with her husband, even if he was ignoring her. Anything was better than this.
"Saints alive, woman, if you do not come over here, I will not have time to speak with you!" a voice said in a loud whisper.
She thought she must be going crazy because it sounded just like her husband.
"Who-who-who is there?" she stammered in a raspy whisper.
She heard nothing but silence. She called out again, this time with more power behind her voice.
Silence.
She stood up from the hard pallet and walked on tiptoe to the door. She peered through the bars. She heard footsteps and muffled voices below, but nothing that would indicate someone had been there. The fire was dying down. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Her shoulders slumped, and she stepped back from the door. She made her way back to her stiff, dirty bed. She wrapped her arms around her knees and closed her eyes. She was hallucinating now. She had to be. Nicholas was not there. She wanted to see him so badly she was conjuring his voice in the night.
She was growing cold so she wrapped the blankets and her dry kirtle around her so she could get some sleep. Faint noises below continued, but no one came.
Unable to truly sleep, she drifted in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night. Images of Isabel and her father intermingled with Nicholas in her dreams. Phillip Bigod came and slashed them all way and reached for her. She screamed in her sleep, but no one was there when she awoke. Never had she been so alone. She should never have lost her temper with Nicholas. He might never be able to love her, but he would always protect her.
****
Nicholas held his breath. He had called out to her, and he thought he had heard a reply, but someone was coming. Slipping a small rose beneath the bottom bar of the door, he stood and made his way down the stone steps as if he belonged there. His urge was to get her out of there now, but he was not even sure if that was where she was being held. She would find the rose and know he had been there. It was risky. If someone else found it, it might alert them to his presence within the castle walls, but easing her fears was important.
It had been a long day. With the help of his men and the new smith from Blackstone, he had found a way to cross the river. The smith found a heavy, metal ball, added a small loop to it, and attached a rope to it. The ball was the size of a baby's head. He had found a spot where the river was only twenty or so paces across, and they had thrown it over, time and time again, until it had caught on a tree. The ball flew over a branch, the rope caught, and then the ball swung around the branch, securing the rope.
Not knowing if the rope would hold, he went anyway. He pulled himself through the water to get to the other side. After he crossed, he was soaked, freezing, and exhausted, but he had done it. A bag of clothing weighted with rocks was thrown over after him. It almost fell into the water, but he had managed to grab it and pull it to him.
He was alone, because he did not want his men doing the same thing. The branch did not look like it would hold long, which meant someone could be swept away in the raging waters. He did not have enough men as it was, and he did not want to lose another. They went back to prepare.
This was one task he must face alone. Quickly, he changed into simple soldier attire and hung his clothes from a branch to dry. He pulled a brown hat down over his hair, hoping it would be enough to hide his identity. Leda had given his hair a hasty cut before he left, hoping to further alter his appearance.
Someone had entered his domain in disguise. Doing the same, he would enter Renoir Castle and find Gemma. He had no horse, so he had to walk the rest of the way. It had taken him until sunset
to get there. When he arrived, a delivery was in progress, and he used the distraction to slip through the gate.
Now, as he stood wondering if he would be questioned, he thought about his wife, scared and alone. She had been attacked by Phillip, and he only prayed something like that had not happened again. Though she had never spoken of it after their wedding night, he had held her many nights when she had nightmares. He was not sure she even knew or remembered, but he did. The screams and the sobbing were unbearable. If anyone laid a hand on her, he would not restrain himself again.
One of the Bigods' men-at-arms came up the steps with wood in his arms. He was startled to see Nicholas in the passageway going down the steps.
Nicholas reminded himself to speak with the English used by many of the servants and foot soldiers. He lowered his brown, dingy hat over his eyes and said, "She be a fine piece, that one. I just had ta take a peek at 'er."
The soldier nodded and smirked. "Aye but do not get caught a pawin' her just yet. Lord Gavin gave strict orders she is not ta be touched. She be fair game soon enough though. I be going up ta fix the fire." The soldier gave a nod toward the armful of wood he had and continued up the steps.
Nicholas did not waste any time. The man had just confirmed he had been right about where she was being held. He had not searched long. Renoir was not nearly as big or as well laid out as Blackstone, so there were few places where she could have been. He gave thanks she was not in an underground dungeon. Otherwise, he would not have found her as quickly.
He hurried down the rest of the stone steps as quickly as he could to come out into the open air. The crickets hummed, and voices were speaking in hushed tones all around him as he walked boldly through the bailey to see more of the castle. No one stopped him or questioned him. As he had hoped, he was ignored. Most were asleep, but the guards and soldiers on duty did not seem to think him out of place.
As soon as he identified the main keep, he went straight into the great hall. A dagger was in each boot, but he was without protection otherwise. He hoped against hope his demeanor would not draw attention. There were a few men milling around, but otherwise it was quiet. Studying the hall, he took note of where the solar was located. The urge to run up there and clear them out now was overwhelming, but he held steady.
He had a name now though. The man on the steps had said the name Gavin. It was the same name as Gemma's brother, so it was easy enough to remember. He just had to figure out a way to find out where this Gavin was so he could get to him without being noticed. One option was to kill him quickly, without drawing attention, as soon as he verified it was the person he sought. He would then get Gemma out of there. The plan was simple but would not be so easy.
His men were back at Blackstone but should be leaving about now to get to Renoir at sunrise. Oliver was bringing a force with him, but he was also to leave enough men at Blackstone to protect Blaise and Isabel. Nicholas had also sent word to Henry to send more men if he could spare them. This plan was cutting it close, as Henry might have already left to go across to Normandy.
Nicholas was exhausted, but there was no way he was going to get much sleep. It was essential he remain alert and ready for the dawn. With an uneasy feeling, he went back out into the crisp night air. The rain seemed to have ended, which was one thing going in his favor. If the river did not drop, the men would never get across.
"Looking for something to eat?" a soft female voice said behind him.
He stopped. He was almost out of the hall. He composed himself and remembered to say as few words as possible.
"Aye," he said.
"Cook is abed, but I can get you something. Wait by the fire," the woman said as she went in the direction of what must have been the kitchen. She was tall with a soothing voice, and he was not sure if she was a servant or not. Brown hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Her dress was too nice to be in service. Could she be one of the Bigod wives? He had to be more careful.
He went back into the hall and sat down on the floor next to the fireplace, but off to the side so the light would not illuminate his face. The floor was hard-packed dirt, unlike the nice stone floor at Blackstone. Everything here was basic and crude. The walls were elaborately decorated but worn and old, and the dais was somewhat shabby. Hugh had put money into refining the hall, but it was gaudy and overdone, and it had not been recent. Blaise de Vere had done the opposite with Blackstone. The tables were rough at times, but they were made with care and the walls held tapestries and nothing more.
The woman returned with a loaf of bread and an apple. "'Twas all I could find at this late hour. Where are you on duty?" she asked.
"Near the gate," he murmured as he broke into the bread. He was hungrier than he realized. "I be near the gate."
"Be on guard then," she said. "Gavin is anticipating trouble over the girl. He assured me his sister would be out of here soon enough. Until then, he wants you all to be careful."
"Aye," he said. "She be trouble, that one."
It was all he could do to stay where he was and remain still. The mysterious Gavin was Gemma's brother! He took another bite of bread as his fingers shook. What did he want of his sister, and why was he here instead of in his home at Blackstone with his family? Did he have something to do with Blaise falling ill?
The questions were too much. He was not sure who the woman was, but he stood and nodded in her direction and took off out the door in the direction of the main gate. His mind was racing. This changed everything. The Bigods were harboring Gavin, but it seemed Gemma's brother was seeking revenge for some unknown reason. Gemma had not spoken of any ill will between them and only expressed sadness when he had not come home as planned.
Nicholas strolled through the near empty bailey. No grass grew underfoot. The outbuildings were all in a state of disrepair. The castle and grounds felt sad. He thought if ever a keep had been neglected it was this one. He thought back to his days serving Henry and tried to remember anything about Gavin de Vere.
Henry had taken down many unlicensed castles, and he had also taken inheritances away from many sons and even daughters if he decided it was necessary. The king was all business, and he did not waste any time. Gemma had told him Gavin served Henry as well, but he did not remember meeting him. Could it be something had happened which angered Henry, and he was stripped of his lands? What would that have to do with Gemma and her father?
If that had happened, surely his family would have stood by his side. The de Veres were honorable. He knew that now. Could it have been Gavin within the walls of Blackstone all this time? Surely someone would have recognized him. These were all things he fully intended to find out. He would post himself at the tower where Gemma was being held and try to take a short rest before morning.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At first light, Gemma woke to someone pounding on the metal bars of the door with a stick of wood. She flinched. She did not know where she was for a moment, and the noise was deafening. Standing, she tried to orient herself.
"There you are, twit," Gavin said with a sneer. He was well dressed, as if he were expecting company or leaving the castle.
"I want to give you one last chance to tell me what I need to know. I need to know how to get in to get to your husband once and for all. If you do not tell me, you will never get out of here alive. I must get in."
She blinked a few times to clear her eyes and stared at her brother. In that moment, she realized she had never truly known him. Her memories suggested he was a sweet, doting older brother who had ridden off to become a man. However, in reality, he was a twisted, bitter man who confused what was real with fantasy.
Her lack of answer angered him. His cheeks and his ears burned red as he stared at her. "Answer me or I'll send my men up here one at a time to have you in any way they like."
A gasp escaped her but she closed her mouth quickly. "If you got into Blackstone once, I am sure you can do it again."
"I have two choices," he said. He put his hand b
ehind his back and stared at her. He tipped back on his heels a few times before speaking. "One is to kill you and figure it out on my own. The second is to hold you here until he comes for you. Then I can kill you both."
"You should not hold your breath, dear brother," she retorted. "He cares not for me. He will never come." She knew she might be shortening her life by saying so, but she no longer cared. She wished for anything but this, but she had to be brave and face reality so her sister might live on.
His eyes glowed, and he growled like a wild beast. He cocked his head to the side and then stepped up to the door. "I shall see you dead before dark if you do not tell me how to get to him within Blackstone. You knew of the tunnel, so I am sure you know of other means of entry and exit. Tell me where Nicholas has other men and if the outer gate near the river might work. Blast him for sealing that tunnel! I stayed near my post, so I did not learn the rest. That was my mistake, but you will rectify that for me!"
He was still staring at her when Helena arrived with food for Gemma. Without a word to his sister, he stalked away quickly also without acknowledging his wife. She appeared torn and set the food down with a frown on her face. As she slid the food under the door, she noticed something.
Gemma's eyes went to the floor, and she saw a rose lying there. Helena picked it up; her fingers were shaking. Instantly, she knew it had not been her imagination last night. It was Nicholas she heard. He had left the rose to let her know he had been there. It had to have been him. For the first time since Gavin had taken her from Blackstone, she dared hope. She instinctively put her hand over her stomach and held her breath.
Standing, her sister-in-law twirled the rose between two fingers. It was not a large rose, but a small one not unlike the ones outside the gates of Renoir or the ones which grew in Blackstone. "Where did you get this?" she asked.
