by Speer, Flora
“Will Captain Piers be waiting for us at the rendezvous spot if we arrive there so early?” William asked.
“We will have to hope so,” Magnus said. “Let's not waste any more time. William, lead us to the man who keeps horses available for Royce's agents.”
“The road is on the high ground, on the far side of those dunes,” William said, pointing. “Just beyond the dunes is the road that runs along the coast from Calais to Boulogne.”
“We should make haste,” Magnus noted, looking at the gathering clouds. “The storm that Royce was so concerned about appears to be moving in now.” He placed his hand on Lilianne’s back, propelling her across the beach toward a strip of tall grass that showed where the sand dunes ended
The French inn was built right at the side of the road. The innkeeper recognized Royce's name and voiced no objections when William insisted that he required the immediate use of the fleetest mounts in the stable. A short time later the four companions were on their way to Manoir Sainte Inge.
“I didn't have a good look at the buildings the last time we were here,” Braedon remarked as they drew closer to Manoir Sainte Inge. “We arrived at dusk and left in thick fog. With all that grey stone and perched on the edge of the cliff as it is, it does look more like a fortress than a manor house. I know Manoir Sainte Inge is your home, Lilianne, but I don't find it inviting.”
“Neither do I, now,” she responded. “Though I was happy there as a child, I no longer think of it as my home. If not for Gilbert, I’d never return.” She could see what Braedon meant. With its thick outer walls and the tower that reared upward directly from the rocks at the point of the promontory, the manor was forbidding, whether approached by land or by sea.
And in the tower Gilbert's lifeless body lay. Lilianne shivered at the thought. She was surprised to see Magnus shiver, too. Had he so quickly become attuned to her moods that he felt what she was feeling? The possibility comforted her.
When they reached the manor all went as they expected. Assuming a haughty air, Lilianne announced that Erland's newly hired knights had been commanded by her uncle to escort her home.
“Uncle Erland will return in two or three days,” she declared, boldly meeting the challenging stares of the sentries at the gate.
“It's not like Count Erland to slip away without taking guards along, and without leaving orders for us to obey in his absence,” one of the sentries said. “We didn't know the two of you were gone until the next morning.”
“My uncle told me he wanted to leave without fuss or notice.” Lilianne put a note of disapproval into her next words, which she hoped the men-at-arms would hear as a threat of possible punishment to come when their master returned. “If I recall correctly, most of the men in the hall were too drunk to know what was happening. I do trust those who were guarding the gate that evening were sober. You can imagine what Count Erland's reaction will be if he learns the sentries were too besotted with wine to attend to their duties.”
“Of course, we were sober, my lady,” said the sentry.
No further questions were raised. The men-at-arms apparently didn't realize they had been drugged, or if they did realize it, they weren't going to say so.
Having gained admission to the manor, Lilianne dismounted in the bailey. As previously agreed, William and Braedon took charge of the horses and went looking for stabling, and for accommodations for the three supposed new knights, while at the same time staying alert for useful information. Magnus remained with Lilianne. He tossed her saddlebag over one arm and walked close to her all the way through the hall and up the stairs to the second level of the manor house.
Men-at-arms were beginning to gather in the hall for their midday meal and a few cast curious glances at Lilianne and her escort, but no one questioned her. She was glad she didn't have to speak to the men. As she had told Braedon, she no longer considered the manor to be her home, but it was Gilbert's inheritance, and he should have been there at the head of his men, the lord of Sainte Inge greeting his returning sister. Tears almost blinded her, so she hurried faster, seeking the privacy of her own room before she lost control of the emotions threatening to overcome her.
When she reached her bedchamber the familiar room looked oddly small to her. As Magnus shut the door she thought of their first meeting and of how he seemed to fill the room, crowding it with his forceful presence. Then, she had been determined to find Gilbert and Magnus had done his best to help her. What had happened to Gilbert wasn’t his fault, or hers, either, though she would always feel guilty for not knowing her brother was imprisoned right there, at the manor when she left it.
“Are you all right?” Magnus asked, laying his big hand against her cheek.
“Yes. Let's do this as quickly as we can,” she answered, choking back her tears with firm resolution. Tears would not help Gilbert. “Suddenly, I don't want to stay here. I wouldn't want to stay even if we didn't expect Norbard to descend upon us at any time. There’s nothing in this room that I want to take away with me. I will see Gilbert decently buried tomorrow morning and make arrangements with the local priest for Masses to be said for his soul, and then I'll leave and never return. I swear to do everything in my power to make Erland pay for killing my brother,” she finished in a fierce whisper.
“Come along, then.” Magnus opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
Erland's private room hadn't been disturbed since he left it. His sword was still on the floor where Magnus had thrown it down and the documents Magnus hadn't collected on his first visit remained scattered across the large table that had served Erland as a desk. More pieces of parchment lay on the floor.
“Do you mind waiting while I gather these?” Magnus asked. “Once I have them, we can leave at once if we must. Aside from the possibility of Norbard's imminent return, I don't think it will be long before Erland's men start asking questions that we don't want to answer. I'm beginning to fear I won't have time for the thorough search I had intended to make.”
“Of course, I don't mind. I'll help you.” Lilianne bent to retrieve some parchments from the floor. “I confess I'm not overeager to enter the tower.”
“There, I think we have all the loose material, unless Erland has documents hidden behind the tapestries.” Magnus paused to look around.
“The only thing behind the tapestries is the door that leads to the tower room,” she said. She took a long, shaky breath. “I’m ready, Magnus. No, not ready, but I am prepared. I know what we will find.”
“I wish you would stay here and let me go into the room alone,” Magnus said.
“I must be the one to find Gilbert,” she insisted. “I couldn't save him, but I owe him this much.”
She drew aside the tapestry that hung over the door and lifted both keys from their hooks.
“Erland keeps the keys right next to the door?” Magnus exclaimed in surprise. “I would expect him to be more cautious.”
“He is cautious. No one but Erland ever enters this private room,” she reminded him. “When my father was alive, Gilbert and I were always welcome here. Everything was different then,” she added wistfully.
She thought her emotions were under her full control, but when she tried to slide the key into the lock her hand began to shake so badly that she couldn’t do it. Magnus took the key from her and turned it quickly. The door swung open on creaky hinges.
“Are you sure you don't want me to go first?” Magnus asked.
“No. I know what my duty is.” Clamping her lips together, she began to climb the steep, curving staircase. She kept the second key clenched tightly in her hand, resolved that she must be the person to use it and open the door at the top of the steps. But when she reached the door she stopped, trembling.
“Lilianne?” Magnus was so close that she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck.
“I can do it.” She swallowed hard and inserted the key. She heard the tumblers click. Steeling herself to meet horror and the dreadful stench o
f a decomposing body, she opened the door.
There was no stench. The shutters over both windows were wide open, so though the windows were small, it was possible that the sea breeze had blown away the smell.
Lilianne moved resolutely forward to the narrow, uncurtained bed. The bedcovers were tumbled and such a tiny mound lay beneath them, all that was left of a starved, fourteen-year-old boy. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filmed with tears. Choking back a sob, thinking only of Gilbert and of how much she loved him, she took another step toward the center of the room. She would pull down the covers and look upon her dead brother's face. Afterward, she would hold the sight in her heart, to recall when next she met Erland.
At an unexpected scuffling sound behind her, she whirled around.
“Put the pitcher down,” Magnus said to someone Lilianne couldn't see. “I doubt if you intend to hurt your sister. You are Lord Gilbert de Sainte Inge, aren't you?”
Magnus moved aside to show Lilianne the slight figure that had been hidden behind the door. Not yet comprehending what she beheld, Lilianne took in her brother's untrimmed brown hair, blue eyes, and familiar, beloved features.
“When I heard the key in the lock and the door creaking open, I thought you were Uncle Erland,” Gilbert said to her. “I was planning to bash him over the head and then escape and try to find you.”
“Gilbert?” So stunned was she that she could barely whisper his name. She gaped at him for a long moment, while her mind fought to adjust to a new reality. “Gilbert!”
“He is obviously alive,” Magnus said, “though I don't think he's particularly healthy. When did you last eat, my lord?”
“Yesterday,” Gilbert answered. “The man below sent me a little bread and cheese. They don't allow him much food, so he doesn't have much to share with me. Lilianne, where is Uncle Erland? If he’s absent from the manor, I think we ought to rally the men-at-arms to our side before he returns. He wants to keep me here in the tower, so he can have Manoir Sainte Inge for his own. He told me so.”
“I know,” Lilianne said, still struggling with joy and disbelief. “He told me, too. He thinks you are dead, because he hasn't been here to feed you. I believed – I feared – oh, Gilbert!” She couldn't go on. Silent words of gratitude to heaven filled her heart. She gathered her brother's pathetically thin form into her arms. Once she held him close she burst into tears, drenching his threadbare tunic, running her hands over him again and again, unable to let him go.
“I'm alive, so why are you crying?” Gilbert asked with some impatience. He began to struggle to free himself from his sister’s tight embrace.
“She's happy to see you,” Magnus said, laying a hand on the boy's bony shoulder. “Lilianne came home prepared to bury you, and she's rejoicing to find you alive.”
“Who are you?” Gilbert asked. Having achieved his release from Lilianne's arms, he drew himself up with all the noble dignity a fourteen-year-old could muster. “Present yourself, sir.”
“Sir Magnus of Ashendown, at your service, my lord de Sainte Inge.” Magnus bowed politely.
“Where is Uncle Erland?” Gilbert asked.
“Count Erland is presently confined in England,” Magnus answered.
“You mean, the English captured him and put an end to his spying?” Gilbert exclaimed. “I am glad.”
“Magnus captured him,” Lilianne said.
“Did you? Really?” Gilbert regarded Magnus with unconcealed admiration.
“However, Erland's men don't know he has been captured and we don't want them to learn about it,” Magnus said. “The men-at-arms all believe that you were taken elsewhere for your health. We know from Erland himself how you were secretly returned to the manor. You may tell us the rest of your story later, when we have more time. At the moment, what we need to do is get you out of this room before anyone begins to ask questions of us.”
“We can take him to my room for now,” Lilianne said. “He can stay there until we are ready to leave Manoir Sainte Inge.”
“I refuse to abandon my estate, or my people,” Gilbert said, “unless, Sir Magnus, you will undertake to escort my sister and me to King Louis, to seek his protection from our uncle.”
“I intend to take you to England,” Magnus said.
“Am I an English hostage, then?” Gilbert demanded. “I warn you, I will not go quietly, and I’ll not allow you to harm my sister.”
He threw back his shoulders and drew himself up in a way that tugged at Lilianne's heart. She had thought she'd lost him, and now that she found him alive she was ready to weep anew at his youthful courage.
“Magnus is trying to help us,” she told him.
“By handing us over to the English for ransom? By forcing me to leave my lands? I won't do it. If Uncle Erland has been captured, then I can rule Manoir Sainte Inge without his interference.”
“If you try, you won't live long,” Magnus said quietly. “Be sensible, Gilbert. You don’t know what has happened while you were confined to this room. Your best hope of retaining your title lies in leaving Manoir Sainte Inge now, and returning later at the head of an army.”
“Just how long do you expect that to take?” Gilbert demanded. “Will a French army escort me home, or a conquering English army?”
“If I were you, my lord,” said Magnus, “I'd not expect French help. I have a feeling that King Louis was very annoyed to learn where Erland is. You’d be well advised to depend on King Henry now.”
“He’s right,” Lilianne added. “Please, just do as we ask until we get you to safety. When we aren’t so pressed for time, I promise we will explain everything.”
“I cannot leave my home. Defending it is my responsibility.” Gilbert stuck out his lower lip.
“I can see that stubbornness is a Sainte Inge family trait,” Magnus observed dryly. “My lord, I ask you to trust your sister, if you cannot yet trust me. You must be eager to leave this room.”
Without waiting for a response from Gilbert he continued, “Here's the plan: I'll lock both doors behind us as we go, so if anyone looks in here, nothing will seem out of order. Have you any thoughts on how else to disguise your absence?”
“You ought to make the pillows look like a body and pull up the coverlet,” Gilbert suggested somewhat reluctantly. “I didn't have time to do it properly before Lilianne came in.”
“That's a good idea,” Magnus said, smiling at the boy. “Anyone who glances in will think you are asleep.”
“Or dead,” Gilbert said.
Lilianne thought she was going to weep again. She looked away from Gilbert and, thus, she noticed the shredded sheet before Magnus did. It was tied around a chest that stood under one of the windows, with the loose end dangling over the sill.
“Gilbert, what is this?” she asked. “I hope you weren't planning to escape out the window.”
“Of course not. The window is too small for me to climb though. That's the way I got food,” he explained. “I threw the sheet out the window and the man below tied a packet of food to the end of it, then I pulled it up.”
“Ingenious,” Magnus said, examining the arrangement. “I’m surprised that any of Erland's men-at-arms has the decency to help a captive.”
“It wasn't a man-at-arms,” Gilbert said.
“Magnus?” came Braedon's voice from the stairs. “Are you up there?”
“We're coming down.” Magnus went through the door.
Lilianne paused to look around the room one last time. She could see nothing she recognized as Gilbert's, and she guessed that Erland had permitted the boy none of his personal belongings except for his clothes. She shook her head at the unnecessary cruelty, then looked again at the strip of white fabric that lay across the windowsill. From what Gilbert had said, the cloth was his lifeline, but its location wasn't right; it shouldn't be where it was. A different image of a thin white strip extending from the same window flashed into her mind. She had seen it from the rowboat that took her away from the manor.
“Both windows in this room look out on a sheer drop to the rocks and the ocean,” she said. “How could a man-at-arms send food up here from the rocks?”
“You don't understand,” Gilbert said.
“Lilianne, Gilbert, hurry!” Magnus called. “We have a problem. Don't dawdle.”
“Come on, my dear.” Lilianne put an arm around Gilbert's thin waist to urge him toward the door. He held back for a moment and she feared he'd refuse to go with her out of sheer, childish stubbornness. But then he relented and allowed her to guide him to the stairway and thence to Erland's chamber, where Magnus awaited them.
“Stay here,” Magnus warned. “I want to make sure no one is on the upper level between this room and yours.” He disappeared out the door.
“What's wrong? What’s happening?” Gilbert demanded.
“I don't know, dear,” Lilianne said. “Just depend on Magnus to do what's best for us.”
“I don't even know this Sir Magnus!” Gilbert exclaimed irritably. “Why should I obey him?”
“Because I do know him,” Lilianne responded, “and I trust him completely.”
Just then Braedon appeared in the door to Erland's room. Upon seeing Gilbert, he made a deep bow.
“My lord, we are delighted to find you alive,” Braedon said, “for your sister's sake, as well as your own. Lilianne has been beside herself with worry and grief.”
“Who is this man?” Gilbert demanded of Lilianne.
She made the introduction and was relieved to see how Gilbert's mannerly training compelled him to acknowledge the knight with civility. She could tell that her brother was confused and exhausted, most likely from fear and lack of food. From the looks of him, he hadn’t been sleeping well, either.
When Braedon glanced out the door of Erland's chamber and then beckoned to her, she caught Gilbert's hand and pulled him along the gallery and the corridor, into her room. Magnus and William joined them a moment later. The small chamber seemed more crowded than ever, but Magnus dominated their little group.