The confidence in Reginald lifted another step. Gradinton needed his intimate knowledge of Freyne to retrieve what had been stolen from him. "Ah, but you have missed a bit of news. Your granddaughter now resides at Freyne."
Gradinton donned a shocked expression. "You do not say! That is news, indeed."
Now the bartering began. "Although I find myself less than satisfied with this position the monks pay me well." Reginald dared not smile, but the new power in him was a heady thing.
Gradinton nodded, staring out into the distance. "I understand that bitch of Aymer's gave him another son."
"She did." This was a cold comment.
"A sad thing, that," Gradinton said.
"What is, my lord?"
"How easily children die in this world of ours." Gradinton shot him a sidelong glance. "Even boys nigh on into manhood can fall from their horses."
Reginald drew a deep breath. Gradinton believed him guilty of Theobald's murder and was offering to conceal yet another death if he but delivered to him Coudray's daughter. Caution rose a notch. He had something Gradinton wanted, but he'd not give it up for a useless promise.
"Aye, I suppose that’s true. It’s a good thing my brother has two surviving sons."
Gradinton freed a low, harsh laugh. "In September past I found myself thinking how sickly that boy is. Aye, squiring him seemed like sending him to his death."
"So we all might have thought a year ago," Reginald replied slowly, "but here it is September once more and Aymer's son lives still."
Gradinton's brow creased as Reginald pushed him for aid in yet another life's ending. "Damn, damn, damn," the baron muttered to himself, again staring into the distance. At last, he threw aside all pretense and faced Reginald.
"You ask for what I cannot guarantee, at least not at this moment. Give to me my granddaughter, and I promise you, you'll be well compensated in my employ. If the time comes that you find the avenue leading to what you want, I will give to you the same support I gave Aymer."
Reginald grew drunk with longing. Gradinton would help make him Freyne's lord. Until this moment, avarice had been carefully banked within him. Now it woke from its uneasy rest to roar through him. Let Clare and love be damned to hell; Freyne would be his.
"My lord, I find your offer irresistible. I am certain the monks can find a replacement for me."
Elyssa climbed the stairs in Freyne's gatehouse behind Sir Gilbert with Clare on her heels. The spiraling stairwell was dark and narrow. Surrounded by thick walls, there was nothing to be heard save the hollow ring of their footsteps on the stone steps. In that moment, she could imagine they were the only three beings left in this quiet world.
As Sir Gilbert stepped out onto the wall, Elyssa looked above her. A thick blanket of gray concealed the sky. Mist entered the stairwell to settle gently on her face. This precious moment of peace was shattered when she stepped onto the wall top.
In the bailey behind her, chaos reigned. Folk ran at their chores, moving supplies from hall to keep. The smith's hammer rang in double time, while the carpenters' efforts echoed the smith’s, nails crashing into wood. Men shouted and called as they rolled out the catapult, along with its stones, and barrels of quarrels from their sheds. The bleat of panicked sheep were silenced, one after another, as Freyne's flock gave its life to defend their home.
Moving out of the stairwell, Elyssa stepped out into what would have been mid-air two days ago. Their hastily constructed and yet incomplete hoarding now clung to the exterior of Freyne's outer wall overhanging the outer dry moat. Long and narrow, the wooden construct had the feel of a corridor. The openings between the upright braces were filled with removable panels—shutters of a sort—while openings dotted its floor. Once the shutters were open Freyne's defenders could send bolts and stones down at their attackers, while all manner of deterrents could be poured through the holes in the floor on those foolish enough to stand beneath them. All that waited to finish this defense was its roof, which at this moment was being covered by those fresh sheepskins to make it fireproof.
Throwing back her cloak hood, she nodded to Sir Gilbert. The knight lifted out the panel nearest her. Her heart pounding in her throat, Elyssa stepped into the opening as Clare came to stand behind her in support.
Never had she seen so many soldiers in one place. They swarmed like ants as tents were raised and campfires came to life. Dray animals bellowed and brayed in complaint, while wooden cart wheels groaned under the weight of disassembled siege engines.
She scanned their ranks, looking for knights. Near the place where Freyne's drawbridge usually touched down were a clutch of mailed men. One pointed, and the others raised their gazes to her.
Baldwin de Gradinton stepped forward, his dark hair exposed to the day's mist. "Lady Freyne, how good it is to see you once again." The snide and superior tone of his voice woke her ire and gave spine to her back.
"How kind of you to say so, my lord," she retorted, her voice without a quiver of fear. "What brings you and your many friends atapping on my door this day?"
"Why, I would but visit my granddaughter."
"'Struth, my lord?" She strained her voice seeking just the right tone of incredulity. "You should have written ahead. I fear I have no tolerance for those who come uninvited. A shame you've come so far only to be turned back."
He laughed. "God's teeth, but you are a brave bitch."
"That you already knew, my lord," she stated. "There was no need to bring an army just to prove the point. Come now, be reasonable. What you want I'll not give you, and Lord Coudray will soon come to drive you from my gate."
Gradinton only shook his head as if dismayed with her. "How you delude yourself, my lady. Lord Coudray will not come. It’s but a daughter he has here. When she's mine, he’ll remarry as he should and make himself better heirs."
Elyssa drew a sharp breath, realizing that Gradinton did not know she was the one with whom Geoff wished to make his heirs. It set a grain of hope in her.
"You're wrong. He values his daughter highly indeed," she said, the power of her confidence making her opponent frown. "Now we both know you haven't time to take down our walls before he returns from court."
"Think you so?" Gradinton was toying with her, enjoying this interchange. "I set my men to watching him on his journey, out of simple curiosity, shall we say? Being laden with his witnesses and his wain as he was it took Coudray a full three weeks to reach his destination. It will be October's end before you see him once more, my lady."
"What makes you believe he intends to escort his party home? Do you think we've not sent him warning?" She let scorn lay deep in her voice, all the while praying that their messengers had won free of the ring Gradinton had closed 'round them.
"Why, of course not." He signaled, and some of the knights with him turned. From a nearby tent, they drew forth two bodies, pulling Freyne's dead messengers by their heels.
"Two," Elyssa breathed to Clare. "They took but two of them."
But which two? Although Sir Gilbert instructed her to send two missives, one to Crosswell and one to Geoffrey at the Michaelmas court, she'd added a third. This one went to Jocelyn at Ashby. A relieved sigh escaped her in understanding. If Gradinton continued in ignorance of Geoffrey's affection toward her, then it had to be the messenger to Ashby he'd missed. For Jocelyn's sake and in the hopes of teasing Lord Ashby into aid, Elyssa scribed her intention to wed Geoffrey into that missive. Surely, Geoffrey's brother would fly to the aid of his future sister-by-marriage.
Confidence holding if not growing, Elyssa lifted her voice once more. "Your timing is all awry, my lord. My cellars are full and my walls strong. We can last until October's end."
"You seem to be suffering from an excess of hope," the man laughed. "Might I introduce my siege captain?"
He waved forward a helmed knight. When the man stood beside him, he wrenched off his helmet. Behind Elyssa, Clare gasped in shock as Reginald of Freyne looked up at them.
"Mary
save us," Elyssa whispered. In Reginald's account book were many notes as to the strength of Freyne's walls, what needed repair and where the dry moat was vulnerable.
"Do you see now how your overconfidence can only hurt you? Give me what I came for, and I will be gone."
"My lord, I am astonished at your concern for me," she called back. "Set your heart at rest, realizing I am well-nigh indestructible. Have I not already outlived two men? I think me, I am about to outlive another."
Gradinton stiffened at her taunt then his shoulders relaxed. "Bold words when my ram will soon be pointed at your door. Now, there's a lewd image, indeed. Aye, I shall breach your gate with ease. As you say, you are no virgin."
The men behind him laughed at his quip. One leaned forward to speak privately to his lord. Gradinton grinned at whatever the man said. "Hew, here, has just admitted he finds himself smitten by your beauty. Be warned, Lady Freyne, if I must break down your door by force, you'll be naught but a spoil of war. Be sensible, if not reasonable. Spare yourself rape."
"You are a most persistent man, my lord," Elyssa sang back, "but my answer can be but nay. As for Sir Hew, bid him my thanks. A woman my age takes her compliments where she can find them." The saucy remark belied Elyssa's growing fear.
Gradinton's men shouted in amusement, and Baldwin offered a salute to her courage, then raised his voice once more. "My lady, there will be no rescue for you. Give me what I want."
"I humbly beg your pardon, my lord, but that I cannot do." She stepped back from the opening as two men set the panel back in place.
When she turned toward the lank knight, her confidence was gone, her poise shattered. Her knees trembling, she leaned against the tall knight's arm. "Pray, Sir Gilbert," she told him, "pray you hard and deep. Reginald of Freyne directs this siege. He has lived here all his life and knows this place like his own skin, while we may have no hope of early relief. Mother of God, but Gradinton has planned this attack with care." Her fists closed in frustration.
"Aye, and I like not the odds against us," the man told her, his voice harsh with worry. He let her lean a moment longer, then steadied her and stepped back. "We can but be strong and continue as long as possible, in the hopes that someone in the neighborhood sends word to Lord Coudray."
Elyssa glanced up at him "Sir Gilbert, I sent a third messenger, and I think Gradinton has missed this man. What possibility is there we might have aid from Ashby?"
Sir Gilbert's eyes flew wide in shock. "You sent a man to Ashby?"
His wild words sent her heart tumbling to her toes. "Did I do wrong? I thought perhaps, Ashby being my lord's brother and my son being Ashby's squire, he might come."
The man startled her as his somber expression cracked into a broad grin. "I never thought! Aye, if Ashby knows, he'll send word not only to Lord Geoffrey, offering his aid, but I wager he sends to Graistan as well. If Graistan comes," his words died and when he looked back at his lady, his face was bright with hope.
"It’s your turn to pray, my lady. Beg God and all his saints that Gradinton doesn't toy with us, holding back news of the third messenger's demise to raise false confidence."
With that warning, Elyssa's spirits sank. If Gradinton had read what she's penned, he'd surely hold back what he knew until she was desperate, then use it to destroy her. "Prayer is all that is left to us," she murmured.
Beside her, Clare freed a quiet sob. Elyssa turned, thinking to comfort her cousin, but the ashen, trembling woman pushed her away. "Touch me not, Lyssa. Look what I have done." Clare stared at the hoarding's wall as if she could see through it. "Oh Reginald, how could you do this," she cried softly, her voice fraught with pain.
"Clare, you cannot blame yourself for believing he was one sort of man, then discovering he is another," Elyssa said in gentle confusion.
"That is true enough, were it just this day I'd made such a discovery," Clare whispered.
"Be you clear, cousin," Elyssa insisted with a frown.
"Lyssa, I have known since June that he aided in Theobald's death, that he prays for Jocelyn's demise, and that he worked to kill Simon whilst that sweet babe yet resided within you. That’s why I sent him from Freyne, as he wants only to own this place." Clare caught a sharp breath then grabbed Elyssa by the shoulders. "Jesu Christus! Gradinton has promised him Simon's life for his aid!"
Elyssa tore from Clare's grasp, fear for her son twisting through her. "How do you know this?" Her words begged Clare to tell her she was mistaken.
"It's the only thing that could set him to destroying his own walls." Clare's face fell into an expression of utter despair. What weighed on her sent her sinking to sit on the floor of the walkway. With her head leaned against the hoarding, she closed her eyes. "Reginald, you've killed me, killed me," she whispered bitterly to her erstwhile love.
Despite how the words sounded Elyssa's heart rejected the possibility of her cousin's betrayal. She knelt before her. "I think me if he attempted murder then it was without your knowledge."
When Clare opened her eyes, they were filled with tears. Her mouth trembled. "Aye, but he used me to reach you, first with the potion, then by Freyne's midwife. I should have told you, but I thought I would protect both Simon and Reginald, whose love I still cherish." She paused to free a hopeless sigh. "Lyssa, he loved me as none has ever before done, wanting marriage between us. I could not betray him."
Elyssa released a slow breath, realizing that it was Clare's closely held, lifelong dream that now slipped from her cousin's fingers. Her heart ached for her, knowing all-too-well the pain of giving love only to have that love betrayed. "But no more?"
Clare made a tiny movement of her head. "’Tis Reginald I love and will forever more. The man beyond our wall is not he, but a new creature, all twisted and eaten by avarice." The tears in Clare's eyes spilled over to stain her cheeks. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"What is there to forgive?" Elyssa's mouth lifted in a small smile. "You have just fulfilled that promise you made me at Simon's birth. Do you not give up the life that could be yours in order that Simon should continue in his?"
Clare paused in herself then sighed. "Aye, I suppose I do, but for more than simply love of Simon, or even you. I could not aid Reginald in taking up such a life, not when it rests on the blood and bones of children."
"And that is why I love you so," Elyssa said, taking Clare's hands. "Come now, cousin. We have much to do if we're to keep Cecilia safe and guarantee our Simon a long and healthy life."
"My lord sheriff, you have a visitor." The lilting voice of the wine merchant's young wife floated to Geoffrey from the chamber's door, just sweet enough to lift him from his sleep. Martin coughed as he woke in the other bed across the room.
Geoff rented the merchant's home and kitchen for the duration of court. If the cost was steeper than he thought to spend, it had been a profitable year for Crosswell. Bolstered by Martin's knowledge of the shire the treasury not only received all it was due, Geoffrey had earned a goodly sum toward defraying what he'd paid for the sheriff's position. Secure in his profit, he'd dared to visit a jeweler, purchasing the bride's gift he would give to Elyssa on their wedding day.
He yawned, stretching as best he could in the short bed. Although the darkness around him said the hour was yet deep into the night, Geoffrey reached beneath the bolster seeking his eye covering. His fingers found both the patch and the fabric bag in which resided the necklet he'd bought his love, wrought with pearls and amber. Pressing the patch in place, he asked, "Who comes?"
"One calling himself Lord Meynell. He waits downstairs in the hall, my lord."
Geoff frowned, knowing no man by that name. "Tell him to return after dawn."
"Aye, and leave us to our rest," muttered Osbert, who lay among the many men stretched out on the bedchamber floor.
"My lord, he told me to say he comes on your daughter's behalf."
That brought Geoffrey upright in a hurry. It was a fresh-faced lass the merchant had married, not a day over fifteen.
She stood in the doorway with her lamp in hand, the yellowish glow gleaming off her rich silk bed robe. At three times her age, her husband kept his wife very well.
"Send him to me." Geoff found his sword as the girl turned to do as he bid. Its bared blade lay across his lap by the time footsteps marked his visitor's upward trek.
Lord Meynell entered, his mail jangling and his cloak swinging gently around his calves. The glow from the housewife's lamp showed Geoffrey the man's plain face, rawboned, with a bold jaw beneath his neatly trimmed dark beard. Anger roared through him.
"What sort of foul trickery is this?" he threw in vicious question at his father's bastard. "Who the hell is Meynell? I'll kill him for lending you his name."
"I am Meynell now," Richard FitzHenry replied evenly.
"Temric!" Martin called from his bed in surprise.
Geoffrey's rage grew as Martin used the name his eldest brother adopted after tossing aside the one their father had so generously given him. "How dare you use my daughter to buy your way into my presence!"
Richard only raised his brows, untouched by this rude greeting. "Would you have seen me any other way? I bring you news, and I fear it will do you much hurt." It was his half-brother's calmness where Geoffrey's open dislike usually raised rage that made Geoff heed him.
"Spew it, then,” he said grudgingly.
"As of two days past Gradinton has besieged Freyne."
"What?" Geoffrey cried in disbelief. "Nay, were that true, I'd have had word. Lady Freyne knows where I am."
"I have her message. It came to me by way of Ashby and Gilliam," his brother replied. "If you've not heard, it can only mean Gradinton took the man who carried news to you." Richard stepped to the bedside and offered Geoffrey the parchment along with the lamp.
Geoffrey opened the folded skin, recognizing Elyssa's strong, neat hand.
To my dearest son Jocelyn, squire to Lord Ashby. I send you this missive only praying it may reach you. This morn, Lord Coudray's enemy, Baldwin de Gradinton, marched on Freyne with a vast army and siege engines aplenty. He seeks to steal Cecilia of Coudray, who is his granddaughter and now his only heir. Although I have sent word to my beloved Lord Coudray, the man I would make your stepfather, he is presently at the Michaelmas court. I can hold no great hope of his aid, knowing he is duty-bound to remain there.
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