Out of the Dark

by JoAnn Smith Ainsworth

  “I believe he’s part of the conspiracy.”

  Geoff’s face paled.

  “He’s one of the men Lynnet overheard?”

  “I believe so.”

  Geoff sank into a chair, leaned his elbows on the table and ran his fingers through his thick hair. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained.

  “He’s always so conscious of family standing. His betrayal puts us all in jeopardy.”

  He looked up at Basil.

  “How could he do this?”

  “Out of hatred for Saxons.”

  Geoff stood and started pacing.

  “That I can believe. He perverted my sister from a loving girl into a bitter woman. Now, my only sibling and I are estranged.”

  “So I heard.”

  “It’s been difficult for me having married the daughter of an Anglo-Saxon commoner. Only my wealth and the king’s protection keep the wolves at bay.”

  “It must strain your marriage.”

  “It would if we’d let it. We’re so happy together we ignore those not happy for us.”

  Geoff stopped pacing and turned to Basil.

  “What will you do to my brother-in-law?”

  Basil rose.

  “I can’t discuss this further. Since you’re my friend, I wanted to warn you what’s coming down the pike.”

  Geoff clapped him on the back. “I appreciate that.”

  “Keep this confidential, even from Matilda.”

  “I will.”

  As Basil walked towards the door, he added, “Your brother-in-law left the Tower hurriedly this morning.”

  “He did?”

  “He’s on his way to Wessex. He could’ve gotten wind of my suspicions.”

  “The coward. He’ll probably take his frustration out on my sister.”

  “Lady Rosamund is still at the Tower, packing.”

  “I’ll try to get her to stay.” Geoff sounded encouraged. “Let Maximilian stew in his own juices.”

  “Give me any intelligence on him you glean from her. Swear her to secrecy.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” Geoff’s face looked strained. “I must keep my family clear of his doings.”

  Basil put his hand on the latch, but Geoff stopped him from opening the door.

  “What are you going to do with Maximilian?”

  “His destiny is in his own hands.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Maximilian flew the coop.” Count Courbet de Shereborne squeezed the neck of his goblet so hard it felt like he would crush the wood by his bare hand.

  “The yellow-bellied swine,” Sir André de Chester said, noticeably agitated.

  They were in Courbet’s chambers. It was just before midday meal and they had taken great pains not to be seen together.

  “Did he hold his tongue before fleeing?” André asked as he picked up a piece of cheese to eat.

  “He sent us no message.”

  “We must assume the worst.”

  Courbet took a deep swallow of mulled wine.

  “I sent a man after him. My man will slit his throat.”

  André nodded, accepting the judgment.

  “It’ll look like he died during a scuffle with thugs. The sheriff won’t be able to connect us to his killing.”

  André scoffed. “My bastard brother can’t touch us. We’re too powerful.”

  “He can if the king is involved. King Henry wrested the throne from his elder brothers, imprisoning Robert. He’d crush us without a second thought.”

  André wiped nervous sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “We’ve been careful.”

  “Henry will throw us in irons if he even suspects. Plotting against the crown is treason.”

  André’s handsome face turned ashen.

  “But we’re not,” he protested. “We’re just putting those damned Anglo-Saxons back in their place.”

  “Only because we’ve had no commitment from his imprisoned brother. Chicken-livered Robert refused to consider rebelling against his brother.”

  “And what about the stolen goods?” Courbet continued, forcing André to face facts. “Henry won’t take kindly to those thefts.”

  “Money ranks high with Henry. If we pay him back threefold, all will be forgiven.”

  Courbet’s stomach clenched. The man was whistling in the wind.

  “Maybe. But this year it was too cold to get a good harvest. He may take the theft of grain as an affront to the crown.”

  André’s voice was strained. “Don’t overreact. We’ll point suspicion at ourselves for sure if we do.”

  “We need to find out who knows what.”

  André ran his fingers underneath his collar as if it were getting hot under there.

  “I have a paid spy in the king’s staff. I’ll get in touch with him to see what he’s heard.”

  “Do that. If the king and the sheriff have gotten together, our situation is more desperate.”

  “We must silence our enemies so there’s no one to testify against us.”

  “Like that blind woman from the cellars,” Courbet said. “I understand she has exceptional hearing. One chance encounter where she identifies our voices will be our undoing.”

  “We can make her disappear.”

  “We can’t afford another foul up,” Courbet said, as he fingered the design carved into the goblet.

  “The men were getting a boat,” André protested. “They never expected her to wake up.”

  “We need something more permanent.”

  André stretched his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his neck to cushion his head.

  “I’ll come up with an idea that’ll make her death look accidental.”

  Courbet sank down into his chair, deciding today would be a good day to get roaring drunk.

  As soon as Basil left, Geoff wasted no time getting to his sister’s chamber in the other wing of the castle. The door was flung open and Rosamund was instructing two maidservants in the packing. She turned when she heard his footsteps and glared at him, hands on hips.

  “Well, Big Brother, did you come to gloat? My husband has left me stranded.”

  “Tell them to leave. We must talk.”

  “When you took Matilda’s word over mine last summer, you destroyed any chance for us to talk.”

  “Listen to me now or you may have no future. Dismiss your servants.”

  A frown creased Rosamund’s smooth, ivory skin. She brushed a stray lock of ebony-colored hair from her forehead with the back of a slender hand before turning to the servants.

  “Get out.”

  The two women scurried out. Geoff stepped into the chamber, closing the door firmly behind him, looking around.

  His sister lived in style. Her bedding was mostly silks and furs. The clothing laid out about the room was of the finest wool, many fur-trimmed. The raised lid of her jewelry coffer revealed precious stones. She didn’t offer him a chair. He took one anyway, turning the oak chair backwards and sitting with his hands grasping its high back.

  Rosamund sat primly on the edge of her bed since her clothing was strewn over the other chairs.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Is there anyone in that other chamber?” he asked, pointing to an open door.

  “You chased everyone away.”

  Now that he was here, Geoff was having a hard time getting started. He was unsure how much his sister knew about her husband’s affairs. He wet his lips with his tongue.

  “We’ve not been on the best of terms of late. Maximilian started the estrangement between us.”

  Rosamund looked disgusted.

  “You came here to rake through old ashes?”

  She got up and started pacing, waving her arms in agitation.

  “What do you know about my husband? You avoided the two of us as much as possible since my marriage.”

  Geoff winced at her ferocity.

  “You married for mo
ney,” he said. “You should’ve been more discriminating.”

  “I have all this.”

  The vibrant blue of her long sleeve shimmered in the rays of the winter sun coming through the window as she gestured towards her possessions.

  “He may drag you down with him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t want you arrested as his accomplice.”

  “Arrested?” She looked horrified. “Accomplice to what?”

  “I need to know Maximilian’s movements these past months.”

  “You want me to inform on my husband?” Her jaw dropped as if astounded. “I’m a loyal wife.”

  “You may know something that could clear him of suspicion.”

  “Suspicion of what?”

  It was obvious that Maximilian didn’t let Rosamund in on his dealings. Still, Geoff needed something to give Basil to show that his family was loyal.

  “I cannot give particulars. I’m under oath. I can only say that Maximilian has been up to things that may end in the loss of his head.”

  “What?” she screeched.

  “We believe that’s why he left so hurriedly today.”

  All the color drained from his sister’s face. Rosamund sank onto the bed and leaned her head against the bedpost.

  “Why? Why would you warn me? I almost killed Matilda.”

  He could feel her despair.

  “Because you’re family. I protect my family. You weren’t thinking clearly when you put Matilda in danger.”

  Rosamund ran a hand across her brow.

  “What shall I do?”

  “I’ll take you to the sheriff. Answer his questions. He must be the one to tell you what Maximilian’s done.”

  That afternoon, Matilda visited Lynnet. Geoff had gone off to a meeting with Basil and she felt in need of company. They were talking quietly while Evelyn dozed. Lynnet’s pale hair had been left loose to flow about her face. Matilda was struck by her fragile beauty.

  “At first, Basil scared me,” Lynnet was saying as she fidgeted with the wool cuff of her burgundy gown. “He’s so different from my scholarly father.”

  Matilda didn’t know where this conversation was going. She reached across the table to select a sweetmeat. As she put it into her mouth, she decided not to commit herself until she understood what Lynnet wanted her to say.

  “Understandable.”

  Matilda patiently watched dust motes drift through the sunlight filtering through a partially opened shutter. Eventually, Lynnet picked up the threads of her conversation.

  “He needs to protect those he thinks weaker than himself.”

  “Admirable.”

  “He thinks I’m weaker because of my sight.”

  “Men don’t always understand that strength goes beyond brawn.”

  Lynnet reached out to the table to judge where to set down her cup of cider.

  “He’s quite intelligent. He was educated by monks.”

  “I should’ve known that,” Matilda said. “Basil’s too well spoken for a tavern brat.”

  Lynnet flushed. Matilda had a hard time hearing her next words, so quietly were they spoken.

  “I’m developing an affection for him.”

  Matilda’s breath stopped. She suspected it, but never expected her friend to admit to it.

  “My parents warn me against Normans.”

  Matilda’s blood heated up.

  “Geoff’s Norman.”

  “I meant no offense.” Lynnet seemed agitated, as if she were arguing with herself.

  “Basil’s illegitimate.”

  “I admire a man who rises above humble beginnings. Besides, his father is a powerful earl who claims him for his own.”

  Lynnet could do worse than choose Basil.

  “It's not to say that marriage between a Saxon and a Norman isn’t difficult,” Matilda continued. “Despite Geoff’s prominence, I get cold shouldered. Especially by my arrogant sister-in-law, as you heard in the Hall. Remember, I’m the daughter of a blacksmith, even though my mother’s related to an earl.”

  “My parents don’t think Basil’s suitable.”

  This is the crux of the problem. Only a husband they chose would be suitable.

  She worried for her friend. Whether she defied her parents or not, Lynnet’s heart could end up broken. Matilda jumped up and started pacing.

  “Geoff took a chance. He upset folks by marrying me, but we’re happy.”

  Lynnet looked encouraged.

  “Besides, no Saxon noblewoman can be forced into marriage.”

  “If angered, my parents could shut me away in a nunnery.”

  “I risked all and found love. It could’ve gone the other way. I almost died.”

  Her heart thumped erratically at the memory. She stopped in front of Lynnet and grasped both her hands tightly.

  “In the end, you must decide how much to risk to take.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite the churned, watery slush underfoot, Lynnet gladly strolled across the Tower courtyard with Basil. The slush was probably ruining her expensive boots, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t been outdoors since the dance last week.

  The cold air smelled like more snow was imminent. She pulled the fur-lined hood of her wool cloak tighter around her ears and neck. Both hands were hidden in a fur muff.

  The moonless night created darkness so deep she could only see shapes when passing a wind-whipped torch. Her arm wove through Basil’s, deliberately trapping him close. She leaned her head against his wool-clad arm, using it to determine when he changed directions. The hilt of his dagger pressed into her wrist where her hand entered into the muff.

  This was her world, a world of touch and smell and taste.

  A sighted woman might have found such a dark and unsettled night unsavory. Not Lynnet. The bite of the wind on her cheeks, the brush of Basil’s thigh, his rich voice dominating even the echoing calls of the night guards brought joy.

  Basil’s only spoken words were intended to keep her from stumbling over obstructions. She wondered if his emotions churned like hers, whether, still embarrassed by this afternoon’s kiss, he could dredge up no social banter.

  It doesn’t matter. I prefer this quiet time.

  She breathed deeply, pulling the chilled air inside herself, melding it with her body’s warmth. The night watchman called out the hour. It was but three hours ’til midnight.

  Perhaps an illusion, but Lynnet swore she heard Basil’s heart beating through his heavy, wool cloak. Its rhythmic cadence soothed her. Her own eager heart sought a matching rhythm.

  “I take pleasure in your company,” she said.

  Basil stumbled, but he quickly regained control.

  “And I in yours.”

  The ghostly image of her benevolent grandmother appeared in a corner of the courtyard, seeming to nod her head in approval.

  Lynnet smiled, content.

  A half-hour after Basil returned Lady Lynnet safely to her servant, the informant, Nicolas, arrived in the Treasury Room of the Tower. Basil was anxious for news. He had to report tonight to the king’s deputy.

  “Your brother sells more grain than his land produces,” Nicolas said after settling himself at the table.

  “Do you think he’s connected with the thefts as well as the conspiracy?”

  “Seems that way.”

  So the thieves are also the conspirators.

  Discouraged, Basil shook his head. There was no way he could keep his family name out of this mess. His brother would, at the least, be charged with theft.

  He dismissed Nicolas with new instructions and started composing his report in his head.

  How could André be so foolish!

  Shortly before midnight, Basil was sequestered in his chamber with the king’s deputy who was comfortably seated in a leather-slung chair with a goblet of wine in his hand. Logs had recently been added to the fire. They crackled, burning brightly, providing most of the light in the chamber. B
asil twirled the stem of his empty goblet absentmindedly as he tried to pull the words of his report from his head. Thoughts of Lady Lynnet interfered. She seemed to be reaching out to him tonight.

  The deputy cleared his throat and Basil refocused.

  “The thieves have been lying low. There have been no thefts since I padlocked the storerooms.”

  “Good news.

  “Highway robberies decreased since winter court began. That indicates the leaders are in attendance at court.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “As far as we can determine, all are Normans. No Anglo-Saxons are involved.”

  Lord Otheur nodded. “That’s what the king suspected.”

  Basil swallowed and moistened his lips with his tongue.

  “Just tonight I found a connection between the robberies and the conspirators.”

  “Excellent.”

  Mounting unease caused his throat to constrict. Beads of sweat linked more closely with anxiety than the blazing fire broke out on Basil’s forehead.

  “Loath as I am to admit this, my half-brother appears involved in both the thefts and the conspiracy. I’m told André sells more grain than his lands produce. His voice was the one in the cellars sounding like mine.”

  The deputy looked stormy.

  “The king cannot turn a blind eye.”

  “I know that.”

  “He must be punished if involved.”

  “That’s only just.”

  Basil swallowed to wet his throat. He poured some wine for himself and continued.

  “My brother is being watched. We believe Count Maximilian de Selsey is involved as well.”

  Lord Otheur slapped his hand hard against the tabletop. Some wine from Basil’s newly filled goblet splashed on the table.

  “King Henry is already angry with him for leaving court without permission,” the deputy said. “This will be his downfall.”

  “He probably suspected I was investigating and left while his hide was still intact.”

  “Better to have him wary than causing havoc.”

  “Not necessarily. If they do nothing, I get nothing.”

  “I see,” the deputy said, drinking some wine.

  “I sent a man after the count. If Maximilian tries to escape to France, he’ll be taken into custody.”