by Sarah Hegger
“I believe she poisoned Sir William.”
A low murmur from the men greeted her words.
“Not these. Wager my life.” Aonghas gestured to the gathered men. Amongst the men were a number of bruises, black eyes and split lips. “Made sure.”
“We need to find her,” Alice said.
Men surged to their feet, eagerness to take action pulsing from their taut posture.
Dubhghall stepped forward. “We will tear Tarnwych apart if we must.”
“Do it.” This she could do. Later, when it would not upset William, she would brave Beatrice again, but for now she needed to do something.
As men streamed from the hall, Sister Margaret stood with her. “I brought a larger party with me this time. Most of my sisters hold prayer vigil for Sir William. Others will join in the search.”
The hall spun about Alice and she dropped onto a hearth chair. She could not afford weakness. William needed her to stay strong and do what must be done. Thus far, as a wife, she had been a dismal failure.
Sister Margaret sat across from her. “You must eat, Lady Alice.”
Alice’s stomach roiled. “I cannot.”
“Change at least. Your appearance will increase the speculation and fear throughout the keep.”
The prioress was right, and Alice nodded. “My clothes are all in my bedchamber, and I cannot go in there.”
Sister Margaret fixed a keen stare on her. “And why is that, Lady Alice?”
How to explain what she had done? Under Sister Margaret’s fox-stare she had only one course. “I knew Sister Julianna was here, and I did not tell anyone.”
Sister Margaret rearranged her skirts about her knees.
“And now William has been poisoned, and we are certain it was Sister Julianna. Lady Beatrice blames me for William being so ill and will not allow me near him.”
“I see.” Sister Margaret adjusted her crucifix. “It was certainly foolish not to say something about Sister Julianna being back as soon as you knew.”
William’s poisoning weighed on her until she could barely sit straight. “It is my fault he might—” That tiny word that she could not utter. It meant a life forever empty of William’s smile, the twinkle in his clear-sky eyes, his arms about her, the resonant murmur of his rich voice.
“No tears, Lady Alice.” Sister Margaret offered her a handkerchief. “The time has not yet come for tears. This is the time for firm resolve and strong prayers.”
Alice did her best to stem the flow of tears, but she did not feel resolved. She wanted to crawl into a corner and weep the pain out.
“But I have a more pressing matter to discuss with you.” Sister Margaret frowned at her crucifix. “Whilst you were above, I did some thinking. I spoke to a couple of those who have been here for as long as you have.”
“There is nothing more pressing than William. For me.”
Sister Margaret snorted. “And yet here you sit, too frightened to brave your sister by marriage and take your rightful place by your man’s side.”
Alice jerked in her seat. If nothing else, Sister had stemmed her tears, and replaced them with a strong urge to smack the woman about her wimpled ear. What did a nun know of these matters?
Raising her brow, Sister Margaret chuckled. “Aye, you did not like that, did you?”
“Our hot words were upsetting William. That is why I left.”
“Ah.” Sister Margaret smiled.
The smile irked Alice further. “It is. He needs his rest.”
“He needs his wife.” She flapped her hand. “But whilst you are finding your courage, tell me of your other husbands.”
“Eh?”
“Sir William came to see me a few days ere. We spoke of Sister. We believe she used his departure to escape.” Sister Margaret leant forwards. “Amongst other things, we spoke of your husbands. The ones who came before William. They all met with an early death, did they not?”
“Aye?” Alice’s nape prickled a warning. “The first William died with his friend. They drowned.” It had been a tragic accident. “John slipped in the rain and fell from the castle walls.” Unease grew with each word she said.
“Is it possible he was not alone on the battlements?”
“Aye.” As sure footed as any knight, John walked the battlements nightly. “Steven died from a summer chill.”
“Who nursed him?”
“Sister Julianna.” Her stomach roiled. Please let them be reaching the wrong conclusion.
“She is quite mad you know,” Sister Margaret said.
And dangerous. Perhaps deadly. “Aye.”
* * * *
Grasping her courage, Alice opened the door to her bedchamber.
William lay on his back, pale and vulnerable. Her William, so vital and yet struck down and battling for each breath he took.
“You are not welcome here.” Fierce, loyal, a bitch protecting her pup, Beatrice rose from her place by the fire.
Beatrice loved her brother, but then, so did Alice. “I do not require your welcome. That is my husband who lies there, and my place is beside him.”
Beatrice placed herself between Alice and the bed. “It is because of you he clings to life.”
“Nay.” Aye, she should have said something about Sister, but she hadn’t poisoned William. “I did not feed him nightshade. I might have prevented this by speaking sooner, but none of that changes the fact that he is my man. I vowed to love him and honor him, in front of God, you, and the rest of Tarnwych. And that is what I intend to do.”
“Love him?” Beatrice tossed her head with harsh laugh. “You do not love William. You tolerate him. We have all seen it.”
William needed her more. Alice shrugged. “He is my everything.”
“Leave it, Bea.” Ivy brought a basin of water to Alice. “I was about to bathe him in cool water, but if you are here, Beatrice and I can get some air, and maybe something to eat.”
Beatrice jammed her hands on her hips. “I am not leaving her alone with him.”
“Aye, you are.” Ivy hooked her arm through Beatrice’s. “She is his wife. You are his sister. She wins.”
Alice approached William. His body and face, so beloved to her, yet lacking the vital essence that drew her to him. Her hands trembled and water slopped onto her gown. On a table by the bed, she set the basin.
“William?” She stroked his clammy cheek, just beginning to prickle with new growth. Such a fine, beautiful man, her William. Strong and noble, all that her girlish heart had dreamed a knight should be. “It is Alice.”
He murmured and pressed his face to her hand. Even knowing she might have imagined it, the gesture gave Alice hope.
She dipped the cloth into the tepid water and wrung it out. “I am going to bathe you now.” It did not seem right to not speak with him. “Ivy says it helps keep your fever down.” She ran the cloth over his forehead and neck. Pushing the covers lower, she moved to his chest. “Ivy says the poison is mostly out now, and you must fight the lingering effects.”
If he were able, William might laugh and tell her Ivy always had a lot to say about everything. Or cup her face and tell her not to worry. But William lay like a helpless babe. William could not die. He must not die.
Tears trickled onto her cheeks. The harder Alice tried to stop them, the faster they came. Sister Margaret had rebuked her tears, but they would not stop.
“Stay with me, William.” She pressed her palm to his chest. Like a faint bringer of hope, his heart thumped beneath her touch. “Stay with me, and I will do better. Be better.” She dipped the cloth in the water and brought it back to him. “I do not know why I did not tell you Sister was hereabouts, but I thought I could spare you. This once, I wanted to deal with her.”
William thrashed his head. His eyes opened, glazed and uncertain.
“William?”
With a moan he shut them again.
“I am so sorry.” She might not ha
ve given him the poison, but she had brought this on him. “If you stay with me, I will make it better.” And if he left, she would never have the chance to tell him all that lurked in her heart. Perhaps some part of William could hear her, and understand her words. “I love you,” she whispered. “I might have loved you from the moment you entered Tarnwych.” She scrubbed fresh tears from her cheeks and sniffed. “I loved you then because you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen. You still are, for all you are so pale. I thought you would despise me for being plain, but you made me feel pretty. You have never once looked at me as if I was lacking.”
Nay, caught in the blue beam of William’s gaze Alice had felt like the only woman in the world. The one he had chosen. “I can be a better wife. I know I can. If only you will give me the chance.”
William sighed in his sleep.
Alice moved the basin away and perched on the bed. In this bed, she had discovered what it was to be a woman. Under William’s care she had learned not to fear and dread that part of her marriage. Here he had freed her.
Moving carefully so as not to disturb him, Alice crawled onto the bed beside him. The need to touch him overwhelmed her, and she lay on her side and pressed her forehead to his still arm. “Stay with me, William. With me and our baby.”
* * * *
A hard shake dragged her out of the warm dark.
“Wake up, Alice.” Beatrice stood by the bed, her face cold and drawn. “You fell asleep.”
Perhaps she should apologize for that, too, but Alice sat up and rubbed her tired, gritty eyes. “I wanted to be near him.”
For an instant, Beatrice’s face softened before it grew hard again. “I hope you did not disturb him.”
Alice whirled to check on William. There appeared to be no change, but he had rested quietly beside her.
“Anyway.” Beatrice folded her arms across her chest. “I came to get you because there is someone here to see William. When I told him William could not come, he insisted on speaking with you.”
“Who is it?”
Beatrice stalked out of the chamber.
“I will stay here until you return.” Ivy spoke from by the hearth. “Do not mind Beatrice. She does not mean half the things she says.”
Alice eased the crick in her neck. “Then she should not say them.”
“Aye, now you sound like Garrett.” Ivy stood and stretched her back. “But you are needed downstairs. The poacher is here, the one who shot William, and he will not leave until he has spoken to you.”
* * * *
The air in the hall oozed tension. Alice entered quietly and could read nothing in the faces of those present.
Aonghas stood with the Domnalls, all three of them. Between them cowered a wiry man of medium height, his new clothes still stiff.
“My lady?” The man approached her, kneading his hat. “I am Caomh. I am the one who shot Sir William.”
“It was an accident, I hear.” If guilt brought the man here, why could Beatrice not have dealt with him? Perhaps because Beatrice did not feel inclined to help her in any manner at this point.
“That is just it, my lady.” Caomh put a healthy distance between himself and Aonghas’s sons. “It were not an accident.”
Domnall younger growled and lunged for the man. “Bow, you cur, before our lady.”
“Let him speak.” Domnall senior cuffed him.
Caomh took a few more steps away and executed a wobbly bow.
Domnall senior stood beside Alice. Legs braced, chest thrust out, he silently dared anybody to come near her. “You wanted to tell Lady Alice what you know, and after I heard it, I agreed, but I do not trust you. Take one step closer and your wife will be a widow.”
Caomh leapt back and into middle Domnall.
“Get on with it.” Middle Domnall shoved him.
“I shot him apurpose.” Caomh spoke in a breathy rush. “That nun, the one you are all looking for, she gave me food to do it.”
Middle Domnall grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a rat. “You murderous little churl. I will have your head for this.”
“Put him down.” Alice needed to hear the rest of the truth, however unwelcome. “Sister Julianna gave you food to kill William?”
“Aye, my lady.” Domnall’s grip on his tunic made his voice rasp. His toes scrabbled for grip on the floor. “I would not have done it, my lady. Only Mags had just lost the little one, and the others had nothing to fill their bellies. I could not ask her to lose another child.”
Would she have done any different for this child of hers? Nay. Alice touched her belly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“We heard about what happened to Sir William.” Caomh coughed against Domnall’s tightening hold. “And he has been good to us, has Sir William. Mags urged me to come. She said you need to know what that nun is up to.” The last words barely escaped the constriction of his tunic.
“Put him down.” All her earlier suspicions crashed about her in an exhausting wave. Before her conversation with Sister Margaret, she might have thought Caomh lied. But the man had no reason to lie. “Has Sister Julianna been located?”
“Not yet, my lady.” Aonghas shifted his feet.
“Gresby found signs that somebody other than him and his boys had been in the stables. He thinks she slept there the night before we went out with Sir William.” Older Domnall stuck his hands in his belt. “And there’s more, my lady. That time Sir William fell off his horse, it were not an accident either. She put a splinter in his saddle. One of Gresby’s lads found it while he were cleaning the tack.”
“Find her.” Alice let her harsh gaze sweep all the men standing about the hall. “And Caomh must help you do it. None of us are safe until she is found.”
Chapter 25
William breathed in water and came awake choking.
Beatrice loomed over him, smiling. “You are awake.”
“Are you trying to drown me?”
Beatrice frowned at the washcloth in her hand. “I was bathing your fevered brow.”
“Try not to.” He felt like a herd of bullocks had trampled him. “Where is Alice?”
Beatrice hovered, her cloth dripping water onto the bed. “About.”
Alice had been curled up beside him, wrapped about his arm like a child, and now she was gone. Had he imagined her here? The blasted soup in his brain would not clear enough for him to think. “I need her.”
“We will send for her.”
Beatrice made a terrible liar, always had. “I want her, Bea.”
He was weaker than a newborn foal, and the dark claimed him again.
* * * *
Alice made another mark on the maps Gord had brought her. Tarnwych demesne stretched out on parchment on the table before her. So much land, she had not realized, and so many places for Sister to hide.
Beatrice guarded William’s door like a dragon. Alice’s skirmishes with the other woman left her bruised, but she braced for another one soon. After she had given the men their instructions for the search, she planned to spend the rest of her morning with William.
Domnall prodded the map with his large, square finger. “There is only this area left to search. We have found no recent signs of her in the keep, but there have been traces of someone hard by. Bedamned woman moves like a wraith.”
All through the long early morning hours they had searched. Rare glimpses, lingering signs of Sister’s passage, but nothing more.
Young Will had been combing the area with the keep hounds. Dark shadows underlined his eyes, and he swayed.
“Find your pallet, Will.” She gave the boy an encouraging smile.
He pushed an unruly lock of hair out of his eyes. “I am well, my lady. I will give the dogs a little rest, they eat now, and we will get back to it.”
“Rest, boy.” Aonghas glowered at him. “Grand job, but useless if not rested.”
Will’s lip quivered and he dropped his head. De
spite the look of mature resolve on his face, he was just a boy. “I want to find her.”
“We all want to find her.” Alice leant across the table and tousled his hair. “And we will find her, but you are dead on your feet.”
“Sir William would not rest.” Up came Will’s chin, determination back on his face.
“Of course he would.” Weary and disheveled like the rest of them, Beatrice entered the hall. “William knows a battle is rarely won in a day. A warrior needs to know when to retreat and nurture his strength.”
Will absorbed her words with a thoughtful nod. “The dogs could do with a sleep.”
“There you are.” Beatrice clasped his shoulder. “Know when those you command need to regain their strength before they join the fray.”
When this was over, Alice dearly hoped she could repair the rift between them. Beatrice made a fierce ally and a wonderful friend. She made a formidable enemy. “Is there something amiss with William?”
“Nay.” Beatrice folded her arms across her chest. “He woke.”
Alice staggered under the strength of emotion that surged through her. William awake must mean William on the mend.
“Grand.” Aonghas managed the words she could not.
“He is still very weak.” Beatrice crossed her arms. She kept her eyes averted. “He asked me to fetch you.”
Alice left the hall at a run. Aonghas could take care of managing the men. She had far more important things to do.
In the bedchamber, Ivy sat beside William. Her quiet smile confirmed the news.
Alice braced against the doorjamb to stop her knees from crumbling. “He awoke?”
“Aye.” Ivy tidied around William, putting rags back in the basin. “It seems the worst is over.”
“He will…?”
Tears swam in Ivy’s eyes. “Aye, he will live.”
Alice met her gaze, her eyes misted, and they shared their silent communion of profound joy.
Ivy broke the contact and moved her things away from the bed. “He will be very weak for a while yet. We will have to keep him as quiet as we can, but he will live.”
“I can do that.” Alice walked to the bed and climbed up beside him. His color had improved, and his breathing seemed to come easier. She could do anything now that she knew William would live with her to see it done.