‘I have waited a long time for this,’ he whispered, ‘my love.’
I stabbed him in the throat.
For a heartbeat time stood still, then he let out a cry and staggered back. His hands went to the blade protruding from the side of his neck. He knew at once that the wound was fatal. I saw it in his eyes as they widened in terror and locked onto mine. Blood flowed from his throat, a river of black flooding down his chest, raining onto the floor.
His mouth opened and closed, as his blood pooled across the slate flagstones, dark and viscous. He dropped to his knees with a crack, then toppled sideways and lay still.
I stood, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, terror engulfing me. What had I done? The enormity of it flattened me. I had killed a man. Me, who had baulked at overseeing the slaughter of the pigs in autumn. I. Had. Killed. A. Man.
A trembling started in my hands and spread to the rest of my body, a shaking so violent I fell back against the door and slid down it, my legs unable to bear my weight. Red soaked into the skirt of my already spattered dress. How did a body contain so much blood? I couldn’t look away, however much I wanted to.
The room grew darker, the candle sputtered and died. Hysterical laughter rang in my ears and I staggered to my feet, a scream on my lips before I realised the laughter was my own.
Darkness descended, except for a sliver of dim light underneath the door, illuminating the side of Idris’ face. I had done a good job – the blade was buried up to the hilt. Did his eyes just move? I could have sworn they did.
I fumbled behind my back for the latch. I had to get out of there. I thought his eyes flickered, and I paused, indecisive. What if I hadn’t killed him? What if he clambered to his feet and I had to kill him all over again?
The scream lodged in my throat. His eyes were moving for certain, the light from underneath the door dancing in their depths.
…come to me, missy…
Did Idris say that? Did his lips move, sighing out the words as his chest settled?
…come to me…
I heaved my wooden body up, to stand on foal-wobbly legs. The latch opened under my shaking fingers and I staggered out of the door.
And slammed straight into Cai’s chest. His arms automatically reached around my waist to hold me steady. He stank of stale ale and sex. I recoiled, pushing myself away, giving him a clear view of the room behind, and he let out a grunt of surprise. Even in the light from the single guttering flame of the sconce in the passageway, the bloodbath was unmistakable. Eyes wide, he looked into my face and read the situation in a heartbeat. My guilt was written plain to see.
He opened his mouth to let out a cry and raised a fist. Before it connected with my face, a dull thud, metal on bone, filled the corridor and Cai’s pupils rolled back into his head. I met the quizzical expression on Alfred’s face as Cai slumped to the flagstones.
The prince looked me up and down, glanced at Idris’ blood-daubed corpse, and sighed.
‘Outside, now,’ he said. ‘Let the rain wash away the blood.’
Immobile with shock, I tried to make sense of the words, and he pushed me towards the outside door. I moved a pace or two under his hand.
‘Hurry,’ he urged. ‘If anyone sees you, you’re done for. I’ll take care of Cai.’
When he let go of me, I stopped again, my feet reluctant to move. Curiously, I stared down at them, wondering how they were still holding me up. Then my attention was caught by the dark blood painted in streaks on my dress, deep red flowers blooming in the silk.
‘Shit!’ He grabbed me by the hand and towed me to the door, thumped it open and yanked me outside, leaving me in the downpour. Within a few moments I was soaked and shivering. Water cascaded down my face, trickling into my eyes. Rain or tears? It mattered not. No amount of crying would bring Idris back to life or wash away the sin of murder.
What had I done? The watch would be called, Cai would testify that I must be the culprit, and I would die for this. In that moment between uncertain life and more certain death, I realised how much I wanted to live.
Was it me who sobbed? The noise was raw and gut-wrenching, rising above the howl of the wind and the splatter of rain. Scared someone would hear, I clapped my hands to my mouth, holding the cries in, choking them back down. They could come out later – if there ever was a later.
Trust him, the wind said. Alfred will help you.
Come to me, missy, the rain added. Alfred will bring you to me.
That’s where I’d heard the name Alfred – the French woman, the embalmer. Her with the corpse and the dead cat.
Herleva!
She had spoken his name, asking if the other, younger woman had planted the seed. Were my dreams true? Perhaps they weren’t dreams, but visions. Or maybe madness was taking its toll. Both versions terrified me. Yet Alfred, too, thought he knew me. Déjà vu, he had called it.
The door opened and I shrank back, fearing I had been discovered after all, and I swallowed down a stray sob, determined to remain strong. I would go to my death with dignity, as befitted a queen.
A silhouette of a tall, shapely man filled the doorway, back-lit by the stalwart flame of the ever-flickering candle at the far end of the corridor. He stepped out into the storm, the wind whipping his tunic and fluttering his short hair.
‘How do you know me?’ I asked Alfred.
‘Pardon?’
The question was not one he expected. Perhaps I should have asked whether he had taken care of Cai, and if so, was the method permanent. Or maybe I should have thanked him. Either way, my question had thrown him off balance. Good, he was far too assured for my liking, especially since I was such a mess. I might be grateful for what he had done, and was still doing, but that did not mean I trusted him. I dearly wanted to know why he was helping me, especially at such potential cost to himself.
‘You claimed to know me. How?’ I asked.
‘I have no idea.’ He moved closer, rubbing his brow. By now he was as drenched as I. ‘But I do have a plan.’
‘For what?’
‘To help you escape.’
‘Don’t you want to know why I did it?’
‘You should have simply told him you did not want to marry him.’ I sensed a smile behind his words.
‘There is more to this story than a reluctant bride,’ I said.
‘I thought as much.’
‘Why are you helping me? Your actions will put you and your brother at risk.’ My brain was working again, skittering along tunnels of possibilities and reasons. None of them made sense.
‘Again, I do not have an answer for you.’ His forehead creased into a deep frown. Mayhap he was already regretting his hasty decision.
‘What is your plan?’ I asked. In spite of my reservations, hope blossomed in my chest.
‘You will come with us when we leave for Normandy on the morrow. I will take you to Arlette.’
Chapter 14
Fate? Destiny? Or another dark purpose. A plan – I shall escape to Normandy. No one will find me there.
Will it work? Most likely not, but I had to try. No other option was open to me.
Arlette. The name hung in the air, reverberating with power. Did Alfred feel it too, or was it my imagination, the result of scattered wits and remorse?
The prince was close enough to touch. Without meaning to, I sagged against him with relief. Shivering wracked me, my teeth chattered, and my legs gave way. He was forced to hold me up.
‘Let us get you inside, else you catch a chill,’ he said.
I did not want to go in, but when we arrived at my door, Alfred’s hands firm about my waist, my skirts leaving a wet trail, Idris’ door was firmly shut. There was no hint of the carnage within.
‘You need to get dry.’ He handed me some cloths and I dabbed at my dripping hair and blotted the water from my face. My cheeks were wet again within moments. Tears, not rain, this time.
‘He killed my husband,’ I said.
‘Idris? I thought it was anothe
r Welshman, and on the field of battle?’
‘It was most definitely this one. I heard him say so with his own treacherous mouth.’
‘Did the younger one play a part?’ He stripped off his jerkin. The wet tunic clung to his chest like a caul.
‘What have you done with Cai? Did you kill him?’ I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
‘Should I have?’
‘No. He played no part in my husband’s murder.’
‘It is lucky I let him live then, but he won’t be bothering you for a while.’
The tunic joined the jerkin on the floor. His fingers worked to unlace his breeches. I turned my head away.
‘Dry yourself,’ he said, ‘and get out of those wet clothes. I have no intention of taking a sickly woman with me.’ His voice was harsh but his eyes were full of concern.
I wrapped my braid in a dry cloth and looked down at my clothes. They left a puddle on the floor, but at least the water ran clear.
‘I have no other garments,’ I admitted. It was silly to feel shame over such a trifle after what I had just done.
‘I have spare breeches and tunic,’ he said.
When I risked looking at him, it was to discover him in his linens. They clung to him too, and my cheeks flamed.
‘I will fetch them,’ he said.
He disappeared, returning moments later with an armful of clothes. I was relieved to see he had changed into dry garments. No more clinging fabric. I felt much more comfortable with him fully dressed.
Alfred gave the bundle to me and I held it awkwardly.
‘I will turn my back,’ he offered.
‘Wait.’
He raised an eyebrow, his head cocked to one side.
‘I cannot unfasten the dress on my own.’ I turned around, showing him what I meant.
‘I usually enjoy this part,’ he muttered as his fingers tugged at the knotted cords, and I did not know whether to feel relieved or affronted.
‘I thought you were betrothed,’ Alfred said, turning his back as I struggled free of the heavy silk and the underskirt.
‘It was suggested I marry him, but once I discovered it was he who had killed my husband…’ Those three bloody pieces rose up in front of my eyes and I feared I would never be free of the sight of them. ‘I killed him,’ I finished.
‘Did you have to make such a mess?’ Alfred did not seem perturbed in the slightest.
I thrust my arms into the sleeves of the undershirt, trying not to think of the dagger and its deadly wound.
‘What have you done with Cai?’ I asked instead.
‘Tied him up and gagged him.’
‘I still do not understand why you have not called the watch.’
‘I saw a woman being attacked. What was I supposed to do?’
‘But afterwards, when you knew what I had done?’
‘I wanted to hear your side before I doomed you. Why did the Welshman kill your husband?’
‘For his throne and his queen.’
Alfred shrugged. He most likely thought it was a good enough reason. After all, his mother had married the man who sat on the English throne – the throne which her son considered rightfully his.
‘You can turn around now,’ I said.
He did, looking me up and down, a faint smile on his lips
I picked the sodden clothes from the floor and piled them in a corner. I would have to travel in men’s clothing. My own would not dry before morning and I dared not ask lady Sigrid for any more garments, especially not in the middle of the night.
‘We leave at first light to reach Bristol, to catch the evening tide. A ship is waiting, and will not wait much longer. Not even for Edward.’
‘What will your brother say at you bringing me along?’
‘By the time he finds out it will be too late.’
‘He will see me.’
‘Aye, but he’ll see a boy, not a woman. Tie your hair back, wear the hood of your cloak up, try to walk like a man, and he will not realise who you are. Though he might ask you to share his bed.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Edward prefers men to women.’
‘That goes against God’s law.’
‘He knows, which is why he spends so much time on his knees in prayer, confessing his sins and asking for forgiveness. Then he meets a man he cannot resist and his nature gets the better of him once more.’
‘Oh.’
‘I shall spend the night in your chamber,’ Alfred announced into the ensuing silence.
Ah. I expected there would be a price to pay for his generosity, though it was an excessive way of getting a woman to open her legs; with his good looks, he could have the pick of the servants and most of Lady Sigrid’s gentlewomen.
Dismay coloured my cheeks and my heart sank to my icy toes, but I shrugged my acceptance. I did not want to sleep with him, but if it bought his silence and bound him to me long enough for him to take me to Normandy, then so be it.
‘I do not intend on taking you to bed,’ he said, and I cursed my too-open face. ‘Edward is engrossed in one of Wulfstan’s lesser nobles in our chamber, and I do not fancy sleeping in the stable tonight.’
‘Ah.’ My relief must have shown, if his wry smile was any indication.
He lay on the bed and patted the space next to him. There was room enough for two. I hung back.
‘The night will go quicker if you sleep, and even if you cannot, the rest will do you good. Tomorrow will be a long day,’ he warned.
I climbed onto the mattress and stretched out, careful not to touch him. He draped a blanket over both of us, and I lay still, trying not to breathe. Within moments Alfred’s chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep.
How could he? My own thoughts churned. I could not rid myself of the image of a dagger in a man’s neck, put there by my own hand.
Alfred grunted and turned to lie on his side, one arm thrown carelessly across my middle. I pushed it off, the contact too intimate. He came fully awake in an instant, stiff with tension. When he saw where he was and who was next to him, he relaxed.
‘I still want to know why you are doing this,’ I asked. ‘When Idris’ body is discovered and Cai tells his tale, you will be accused alongside me.’
‘I honestly do not know. But I can talk my way out of this, if it becomes necessary. Edward’s cause will not be harmed. Besides, it will not come to that. We will be long gone come breakfast.’
‘Tell me about Arlette. Who is she and why are you taking me to her?’
‘Hmm. Where do I start? Arlette is like no other woman I have met before.’ He laughed. ‘She has me under a spell, no mistake. The girl has bewitched me and I intend to have her for my own.’
‘Marry her?’
‘If she will have me. I am certain she will persuade her father to take you in, if I ask.’
A shiver ran across my skin. Unfortunately, I was certain too.
‘If she will have you?’ I asked incredulously.
‘I may be a prince, but I have no land and very little wealth. Our mother is the daughter of the old Duke of Normandy, Richard, and she has some titles of her own, but they all pass to Edward on her death. By contrast, I am more destitute than Arlette’s father, because at least he has a trade.’
‘What is that?’ I feared I already knew.
‘He is a tanner.’
Not what I expected to hear.
‘But recently he has gone into the embalming business,’ Alfred added. ‘His new wife’s father was an embalmer, and Herleva helped him in the business. She taught Fulbert the craft when she married him. He is regarded as a wealthy man amongst the good folk of Falaise.’
My heart almost stopped when I heard the name, Herleva. I coughed to disguise my disconcertion, and to stop the fluttering in my chest.
‘Falaise?’ I asked, to give myself time to think. I wanted to quiz him further about Herleva, but fear and common sense held my tongue.
‘That is where the new duke, Lord Robert,
is situated, and is Edward’s refuge in Normandy. Robert has been travelling across his estates since he became Duke of Normandy, but is planning on returning to Falaise in June. We will join him there.’
‘Is he wed?’ I did not care, but it was something a woman in my position would ask. I would have preferred to ask him more about Herleva. I prayed she was nothing like the woman in my vision, and it was all merely a strange, outlandish coincidence, brought about by a fevered imagination.
‘Duke Robert? No. He is too intent on securing his dukedom to turn his thoughts to marriage.’ Alfred propped himself up on one arm and looked at me. ‘Mayhap he would like a Welsh queen for a bride?’
I laughed uneasily.
‘Enough talking,’ Alfred said. ‘I need to sleep if I am not to topple off my horse tomorrow. You should rest too.’
I waited for his breathing to deepen once more before I relaxed, and I must have slumbered for I started when a sound in my ear woke me. It took a moment to determine the voice was not in my head, but it nevertheless goose-pimpled my skin and raised the fine hairs on the back of my neck.
‘Arlette,’ he muttered.
Was it so strange Alfred dreamed of his love? Possibly not, but his next words made my skin crawl with dread.
‘Bring her to you? Aye, my love, count on me,’ he muttered, tossing and turning as if his dream was less than pleasant, and his voice was not that of a man at rest. If the dead could speak, that was what they must sound like.
I sat up, the better to look at him. His face was milk white and his eyelids fluttered, or was it the shadows cast by the candle? He jerked and shuddered, as if to throw off a ghostly hand.
Then I heard it too. This time the voice was for me. Herleva, not Arlette.
Go with him. Go with Alfred, my pretty one. Come to Falaise. Come to me.
She was here, with me, in this room. She watched me, with a gloating avaricious gaze, greedy and knowing. Her eyes were pools of darkness in the shadows, gleaming with dark intent. The pull of her was immense. I wanted to wake Alfred, to start the journey now. She called to me and I answered, the blackness in my heart reflecting the night in her eyes. A dread sense of comfort descended on me, bitter cold inside the warmth. I wanted to go to her so badly it made my teeth ache, yet the thought of her presence was enough to turn my heart to ice.
Caitlyn Box Set Page 11