Jeopardy (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 10)

by Anna Markland

  “Faol,” Claricia cried, hugging the dog’s neck.

  “Hush,” Elayne whispered, her heart beating too fast. “Let me see his collar.”

  The brooch was gone. Fear and elation warred inside her. Had the hound taken the badge to Alex, or had it fallen off?

  She sank back on her haunches, unsure what to do. Faol pushed his nose into her hand. She looked more closely at his collar, her heart leaping into her throat when she caught sight of the twisted bit of playd.

  Carefully, she untied it, revealing the braid.

  Claricia peered at it curiously. “Is it yer hair, Maman?”

  “Aye, Claricia,” she murmured. “I left it as a token for Alex.”

  Her daughter grinned, clapping her hands together. “Ye love him too.”

  Elayne smiled, her forefinger pressed to her lips. “I do, but now we must go outside the tent and just look around, as if we’re admiring the scenery. Dinna wave, or do anything to give Alex away. Can ye do that?”

  Claricia nodded enthusiastically.

  Elayne ushered her outside where, hand in hand, they wandered around the small open area in front of the tent, gazing about. She couldn’t be sure which of the surrounding hills concealed Alex, though she suspected Faol was looking in the right direction, but the certainty that he was nearby sparked hope in her breast.

  The glimmer was snuffed out abruptly when she became aware of excited shouts on the other side of the camp. She stood on tiptoe, catching a glimpse of riders carrying gonfalons that snapped in the stiff breeze atop long poles. She wasn’t close enough to make out whose standard they bore, but the dread creeping into her innards was confirmed when the friendly soldier ran by their tent. “The Empress,” he shouted excitedly. “Queen Maud has come.”

  FROM HIS VANTAGE POINT IN THE HILLS, Alex heard the large contingent approaching the camp before he saw it. The muddy terrain cut down on the dust, but made the pounding of hooves sound like distant thunder. He recognized the well equipped force outfitted in fine armor as a royal escort, and the tall woman riding stiffly in their midst as Maud.

  Excited shouts and frenzied activity in the camp confirmed it, especially when an unmistakable rider trotted out to greet his wife.

  “Geoffrey,” Alex growled.

  The bile of resentment rose in his throat. It was well known that the Angevin and his royal wife barely tolerated each other, yet here they were, united in their greed for the throne of the English and control of the duchy.

  He almost pitied them. King Henry had married Maud off at the age of eleven to the Holy Roman Emperor who was eight and twenty at the time. His death left her widowed, and childless. He couldn’t imagine there’d been any hint of love in their relationship.

  Crown Prince William’s tragic drowning in the White Ship disaster had forced Henry’s hand. To secure his daughter as his successor, he’d married her off again, this time to a boy half her age, a hated Angevin to boot. Despite their disdain for each other, they’d already sired two sons and it was rumored Maud was enceinte again.

  Scanning the tents and pavilions, he caught a flash of red that disappeared quickly into a tent at the far end of the camp.

  Elayne!

  How long would it be before Maud turned her attention to the hostages? Reluctantly, he admitted that as one man he could do nothing to rescue his beloved and her children. He worried about Romain’s ability to gain an audience with Stephen.

  He kept watch for long hours, and then decided to ride to warn of the danger facing Caen now he’d confirmed the enemy’s location. He was probably only about twenty miles from the town, but the journey in the dark would take at least three hours once he traced his path back to the road. He vowed to return with a force big enough to challenge Geoffrey’s.

  Facing The Inevitable

  AS HE APPROACHED CAEN atop his exhausted horse, Alex worried about being challenged by the guard that was sure to be posted outside the town. A lone rider was always suspect, especially one galloping in at dawn, and he had no means of proving his identity.

  He was indeed requested to bring his steed to a halt by a group of armed men manning a barricade, but was allowed through as soon as he declared his name.

  “You’re expected, milord Comte,” one of the soldiers explained, opening the barrier. “Your kinsmen await you at the Abbaye aux Hommes. An ostler there will take care of your horse. Looks like you’ve ridden hard.”

  His hopes lifted. Gallien and Laurent were here, with Romain. He gentled his horse the final mile to the magnificent monastery built by William the Conqueror, unable to take his eyes off the equally impressive architecture of the nearby Abbaye aux Dames, the convent where he’d been born. The soft pink rays of the early morning sun bathed the holy place that seemed to float on the mist rising from the dew.

  The clip clop of his horse’s hooves was the only sound louder than the beating of his heart.

  He deliberately averted his gaze from the stone walls of Caen castle, the fortress where his father had been unjustly imprisoned, a place he’d vowed never to set foot in.

  Some of the apprehension he’d felt about entering Caen subsided with the realization the Abbaye aux Dames was an impressive historic building few could claim as their place of birth. He said a silent prayer of thanks that his mother had found sanctuary there.

  He dismounted, his legs stiff, his body weary and muddied, glad to hand the reins to a robed ostler.

  “Mes seigneurs the Earl of Ellesmere and your brothers await you in the Prior’s parlor,” the monk explained, indicating a path that led away from the imposing main door of the Abbaye.

  Alex followed the path, the loose stones crunching beneath his boots, looking for another entryway, when Gallien, Laurent and Romain came hurrying out to meet him.

  The four embraced heartily.

  Alex was immensely relieved his youngest brother had survived his harrowing mission. “I’m proud of you,” he told Laurent.

  “Praise be to the saints you are alive, mon frère,” Romain said. “Did you find Elayne?”

  Before he had a chance to reply, Gallien interrupted. “I’m relieved you’ve come to your senses and decided to renounce the oath to Maud. However, you’ve more mud on you than a horse. We’ll get you a bath and something to break your fast.”

  Alex waved him off. “There’s no time to be concerned about that. Geoffrey is camped not twenty miles from here and Maud has already arrived. We must marshal our forces.”

  Laurent put a hand on his shoulder. “Patience, Alex, we have mustered all our men and Gallien’s. They are ready to leave at a moment’s notice. But Gallien is right. If you are to see the king, you must bathe and eat first. You’ve ridden all night.”

  Alex scratched his head, discovering his hair was indeed full of dried mud. “King?”

  “Stephen is here and has commanded that you attend him as soon as possible.”

  A cold certainty took hold of Alex. “Where am I to meet him?”

  His three companions answered as one. “In the castle.”

  He knew now the hopeless terror of the wild boar cornered by the hunters. Trapped. No escape. At least the boar would fight to the death. Alex could not refuse to attend the king. It was imperative he do so since he had vital information to impart.

  He swallowed his dread. “Lead on to the hot water,” he quipped.

  REEKING OF SOAP that had a distinctly monastic smell and wearing Laurent’s clothes, Alex walked with his cousin into Caen castle, his heart pounding wildly, his belly in knots. He paused briefly before passing through the final gate.

  “I know it’s hard for you,” Gallien said softly. “This is the first time you’ve ever been here, isn’t it?”

  Alex nodded, his throat constricting.

  His cousin put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes, the more you know, the better off you are.”

  Alex frowned. “Your meaning escapes me.”

  Gallien took his arm. “Walk with me, cousin. Do you re
call that it was I who told you about your father’s experience with the cat while he was in prison, how the animal’s warmth gave him hope and so he called it Espérance?”

  “Oui. It was during the campaign in Flandres you told me.”

  “I was surprised you hadn’t known about that and how the mewling of a cat later helped my father and oncle Caedmon find him in the oubliette.”

  Jealous indignation touched its cold fingers to the back of Alex’s neck, but Gallien carried on. “But then I realized I knew all these things because my father and oncle Caedmon shared them with me, whereas your father wanted to spare you the horrific details of his imprisonment.”

  Guilt replaced indignation. Alex had made it hard for his father to make up for the time they’d lost. Had his aloofness also rendered it impossible for his father to speak of his incarceration?

  Gallien put an arm around his shoulder. “Did you know, for example, your father was brought here bound to a horse and blindfolded, wearing only a penitent’s robe?”

  Alex wanted to close his eyes, to shut out the brutal picture, but his silver-haired cousin was evidently determined to make him face his demons. He looked back down the cobbled path they had walked, conjuring an image of his father’s arrival in Caen. Romain and Laurent had paused a little way behind them, watching.

  My brothers already know of this, and I’m just learning of it now.

  “He probably didn’t know where he was,” he rasped.

  “Non, he didn’t. Nor did he have any idea where your mother was, or even if she was still alive.”

  Alex’s legs trembled as the intense fear and uncertainty his father must have felt in the very spot where he now stood kicked him in the gut.

  “I’d better stop now, or King Stephen will think my noble cousin is an ashen-faced invalid. However, before we leave here, we’re going to seek out the oubliette.”

  IN THE DAY AND A HALF since Maud’s arrival, Elayne had worn a noticeable path in the rug covering the dirt floor of their tent.

  They’d been left alone for now, other than being brought food and drink, and water for washing. More pressing matters evidently occupied Maud and Geoffrey’s attention. How long would that last? Sooner or later, they would send for the royal hostages, and their subterfuge would be discovered. There was no escape from the camp, short of walking away. She could only hope to beg mercy from the reputedly ruthless former empress.

  She silently cursed again her father-by-marriage who had deliberately and knowingly put their lives at risk. But if they hadn’t been sent to Normandie she would never have met Alex.

  She folded her arms across her belly, filled with a despairing longing. What if she’d conceived a child? If she survived Maud’s wrath, what hope for another bastard, a babe born of an adulterous union?

  She’d be cast out, deemed unsuited to tending royal children.

  “Please stop pacing, Maman,” Henry begged in a whisper, whittling a piece of wood with his father’s dagger. “Ye’re upsetting Claricia. Sing for us instead.”

  If she sang, she would drown in a puddle of tears. “I canna, Henry.”

  Faol came to his feet unexpectedly and loped to the open tent flap, looking out, growling.

  The friendly soldier appeared with two other guards. “Their Majesties request the presence of Prince Henry and Princess Claricia,” he announced with a smile.

  She reached for her playd, but he shook his head. “Non, just the children. They did not ask for you.”

  Claricia cast a panicked glance at her. Henry came to his feet stiffly. She brushed dirt off her son’s leggings and straightened her daughter’s hair. “Be brave,” she whispered, struggling to ignore the adder coiled in her belly. “I am with ye in my heart. May ye indeed have the strength of the universe, and the strength of the sun, my angels.”

  Henry smiled bravely, gripped the hilt of his dagger, took his sister’s trembling hand and walked out of the tent in the company of the soldiers.

  Descent Into Hell

  AS KING STEPHEN EMBRACED HIM, Alex was relieved the strong soap smell had dissipated. Either that or he’d simply got used to it.

  Stephen was, as Laurent had asserted months ago, a charismatic and handsome man. Upon receiving Alex’s confirmation the enemy was amassing not far from Caen, he immediately ordered soldiers to be readied to accompany the Montbryce forces. “We are indebted to you, Comte Alexandre, for learning of this treachery. Your family has a long history of loyalty to the monarch who wears the crown of the English. I am glad to have you as a supporter.”

  Alex bowed and the king talked on, but now that the problem of an army had been resolved, all he could think of was Gallien’s determination to find the oubliette where his father had been locked away. He wondered if his brothers standing behind him had already visited it.

  He had to avoid going there at all costs. Or was his cousin right? If he saw the wretched place for himself—

  “What say you, Alexandre?”

  “Er—oui, a fine plan,” he improvised.

  Stephen eyed him. “You seem preoccupied. Of course, this castle holds dark memories for you and your family.”

  Stephen knew, and understood.

  “It does, Majesté,” he admitted, “but my worry now is for the Scottish hostages. I’m afraid Maud will execute them when their true identity is uncovered.”

  Stephen rubbed his finger across his top lip. “Gallien has informed me of King David’s trickery, but what are these hostages to you? Scotland’s ruler is our enemy.”

  Alex swallowed hard. “Elayne and her children are not your enemies, Sire. She is my wife, and I guarantee her loyalty to you and your crown.”

  He wished he could turn round to express his regret to his family, surprised not to hear gasps of outrage from behind him.

  “Then we must do all we can to rescue these loyal subjects from Maud’s clutches, and send Geoffrey packing at the same time. We’ll ride at dawn.”

  “You intend to accompany us, Sire?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  After they left the interview with the king, Alex turned to face his brothers and cousin. Instead of the censure he expected, three broad grins flashed as they embraced him.

  “I suspected,” Romain admitted, “and I’m happy for you.”

  “I could tell how you felt about her every time I mentioned my possible interest,” Laurent added, poking him in the ribs with his elbow.

  Gallien slapped him on the back. “I’ve yet to meet this woman you’ve married, but from what your brothers have told me—”

  Alex gripped the hilt of his sword. “But we committed adultery. Her husband is dead now, but he wasn’t when we—”

  Gallien put his hands on Alex’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Did she know he was still alive?”

  Alex recalled with intense regret that his first thought on learning of Dugald’s resurrection was that Elayne had lied. “Non, she believed him dead.”

  “Did he ever have any intention of returning to his family in Scotland, or did he prefer to be dead to them?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Fine,” Gallien declared, his jaw clenched. “Now we’ve settled that, let’s go find this cursed oubliette.”

  The broad smiles disappeared from Romain and Laurent’s faces.

  They dread this as much as I.

  He could refuse, walk out of the castle into the bright warmth of the sun instead of descending to the depths of hell.

  He was Robert de Montbryce’s eldest son and heir, but he’d done nothing to merit either honor. He had to follow Gallien or he would never be able to look his siblings in the eye again.

  He turned to his brothers. “If we do this, life will never be the same. It will change all of us.” He stretched out his fisted hand. “Are we of one mind?”

  Romain and Laurent looked like two small boys, pale and uncertain, but first Romain, then Laurent lay their hands atop Alex’s fist.

  Gallien added
his hand briefly, then beckoned to the shadows nearby. A burly guard emerged, holding an unlit torch. “This man will be our guide.”

  Alex studied the man. “You’ve been to this cell before?”

  The soldier clenched his jaw. “Oui, milord, many times.”

  “You’re a jailer?”

  The man nodded.

  “Is there a prisoner in this oubliette now?”

  To his relief, the man shook his bald head. “Not for many a year, milord.”

  “You seem glad of that.”

  “I am, milord,” the guard admitted. “’Tis not a place fit to keep a dog, never mind a man, no matter what he be guilty of. Better for him to be dead.”

  It would be every bit as horrific as he’d feared. But the die was cast. “Lead on,” he rasped.

  They walked in silence through the castle’s cavernous hallways, eventually descending a winding flight of ten stone steps, timeworn by the boots of a thousand jailers.

  They gripped the cold, damp stone wall to avoid slipping. Their bootsteps echoed into the dark hollow space somewhere beneath them. Breathing became more difficult in the fetid air.

  Their guide knelt to spark life into the torch he carried, raising the flame high once it caught. Faint rustling noises and grunts reached their ears.

  “Rats?” Alex asked the jailer.

  “Men,” he replied.

  They peered through the gloom. Ahead of them were cells, five on each side of a narrow passageway.

  “Prisoners in all these,” the guard explained, “but you can look through the grate if you’ve a mind.”

  Alex was relieved when Gallien took the lead because he couldn’t make his legs work. His cousin peered through the small grate in the solid iron door of one cell. “Five in here,” he said.

  Alex stole a glance at Laurent and Romain. In the eerie light of the torch, his brothers looked like white marble statues.

  “Come, brothers,” he said, “we must look.”