by Brit Darby
“You’ll rue this day,” the King screamed after them. “I’ll not rest until you’re both dead.”
De Lacy met the approaching soldiers head on. It amazed Alianor how strong he was despite his injuries. Even his cruel grip on her did not lessen as he battled through the guards, bodies littering the hallway as his sword hacked away with crude but savage efficiency.
Alianor struggled to get free, and finally de Lacy was forced to let go to fight as more soldiers swarmed around them. Seizing her chance, she turned and ran. She hurried through the twisting maze of corridors, hearing the shouts of men not far behind. Blind to any particular destination, she kept going, desperate to find a way out.
The sounds of pursuit grew closer. She was almost out of time; they would be upon her in minutes. A nearby door creaked open and Alianor froze, whirling about in panic.
Queen Isabella peeked out, her dark eyes round with worry. When they came face to face, Isabella looked like a frightened doe, indecision clear on her face. Another round of shouts echoed through the hall. The men were almost upon her.
The Queen motioned for Alianor to enter her chamber. Quickly.
THE TWO WOMEN STARED at one another, each uncertain what the other might do or say. Alianor didn’t want to place the Queen in danger by being there, but she didn’t know where else to turn. Hesitantly, she obeyed Isabella’s invitation to enter her chamber.
“I shouldn’t be here, my Queen.” Humiliation scorched her face and she could not look at Isabella. She dropped her gaze and took a step backwards. How could she explain what had happened, how the King ended up in her bedchamber this night?
“Nora, please.” Isabella shut the door and bolted it. Her voice was gentle, quivering with emotion. She reached out and took Alianor’s hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “To my shame, I can guess what has happened this eve.” She looked at the blood on Alianor’s nightgown, and bit her lip.
“Your Grace,” Alianor said, “it’s my shame to bear, not yours. You could not know what the King and de Lacy arranged between them.”
“In my heart, I knew. And I did nothing.” Isabella’s eyes filled with tears.
“There was nothing you could do for my sake without risking your own, Your Majesty. You must not take risks on my account.”
“Tell me one thing — is John alive?”
“Yes. He is wounded, but I didn’t kill him.”
“In truth, I do not know if I should feel disappointment or relief.” Isabella murmured, and crossed herself. “However, to strike a King is treason, whether or not he lives or dies. The consequences are the same, my dear.”
“I know.” Alianor patted Isabella’s hand in turn. “It matters not. My choice was clear and I acted in self-defense. Now, think on this no more, I shall find my own way from this coil and spare you further upset.”
Isabella shook her head, and pulled Alianor further into the richly decorated chamber with its velvet settees and fringed tapestries. The Queen’s tiring woman, Lilith, waited there, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“Nora, I am so sorry about your brother,” Isabella said, her sorrow and anguish clear. “I wish I could have intervened, stopped the terrible circumstances from unfolding as they did.”
Alianor nodded, and her own voice trembled with emotion. “Camber’s greatest wish was to serve God, however he might. I must think of him in Paradise, receiving reward for his gentle devotion.”
“My confessor has promised me he will see Camber given a proper Christian burial within the Black Abbey cemetery at Cill Dara. I hope this is what he would have wanted, and brings you comfort.”
“Your Majesty …” Overcome by emotion, Alianor choked on her words and could not finish.
Isabella hugged her, and the two women clung together in mutual despair and grief. Finally the Queen withdrew, and looked ready for business. “You will need my help to get out of the castle undetected.”
“It’s too risky, Your Grace, and I cannot ask it of you.”
Alianor did not want to place Isabella in a difficult situation. King John would already be intent on seeing her punished; he’d have little forgiveness left in his heart for Isabella if his own wife aided her escape.
Isabella smiled. “How many times have you risked his wrath for my sake? If not for you, Nora, I daresay I might not be Queen today.”
“Of course you would be.”
Isabella shook her head, remaining firm. “Let me help you. My husband does not exercise common sense when it comes to you.” Her gaze assessed the blood-splattered nightrail Alianor wore. “You will put on Lilith’s clothing. You two are much the same size. With God’s help, we can leave the castle without causing a stir. Be quick; we must not waste time.”
Lilith was already removing her clothing. Noticing Alianor’s hesitation, Isabella said, “Dearest Lil has served me faithfully for nigh a decade; she is sworn to secrecy and will not betray either of us.”
“No, that is not what troubles me.” Alianor’s heart grew heavy and her next words held a silent plea. “The King ordered Liam to the dungeon. I cannot leave him to hang — I cannot.”
“What can you do as a woman alone? I daresay you have limits.”
The Queen looked older than her years, wisdom reflected in her eyes. Alianor knew she could trust England’s Queen, with her life and his. “The man Liam Caomhánach … I love him.” The words were simple and her confession awkward, but she watched a smile curve Isabella’s lips and light her dark eyes.
“Aye, I had a notion the black knight was special to you. Mayhap you can return to Caomhánach’s people and they can help.”
“How, Your Majesty? How can a small band of rebels help now? How can a beleaguered Irish province rise up against the entire might of England, and free not only Liam, but themselves?”
“I do not know, Nora. Yet it seems to me your only chance.”
Isabella was right and Alianor knew it. Resigned to what she must do, she drew off the bloodstained nightrail. She tossed it aside in disgust. If they did catch her, at least she would be dressed. The thought of being caught in her sleeping gown did little for her already battered dignity.
Lilith stepped forward in her smock and helped Alianor with the dress she had surrendered for the cause. The red-brown homespun was designed similar to a tunic, so the lower skirt was tucked into the side opening when its owner worked, and the bottom of the gown was pinned up, showing the underskirts. With a simple linen apron tied about her waist, and a plain worsted cloak drawn around her shoulders, Alianor looked like one of the castle servants.
The Queen retrieved one of her own veils and settled it over Alianor’s head, obscuring her features behind its misty shield. “I doubt any of the men will notice it’s the wrong color. But it does serve to keep your hair and face hidden from prying eyes.”
A squawk from the adjoining room caught Alianor’s attention. She heard the flutter of wings and with a happy cry hurried into the solar to find Goliath in a large, ornate cage. Joy flooded her as the tercel chirped his own excitement.
“Goliath,” she cried, and turned questioning eyes to the Queen.
Isabella smiled at Alianor’s delight. “Aye, our Master Falconer found the bird in the mews after the tournament. He remembered the tercel you had nursed back to health several years ago and he brought Goliath to me.”
“Thank you for taking care of him, Your Grace.”
Isabella crossed the solar and trailed a finger over the bars of the cage. “He is a beautiful creature, Nora. I could not let him die from neglect if you …”
Her words trailed off, and neither woman attempted to complete them.
“Goliath might have died without your help. I am so grateful. Why, you see he likes you.”
“He does?” Isabella’s eyes rounded. “How can you tell?”
“Because he has not nipped your fingers and drawn blood.”
Isabella laughed. “Aye,” she agreed. “We seem to get on well.”
> Alianor reached out and took her Queen’s hand in her own. “He is my gift to you, Your Majesty. I know you will take good care of him.”
“My dear,” Isabella’s eyes misted. “I know how much you love Goliath. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I cannot take him with me. It will do my heart good to know he is loved as dearly by you as he was in my care.”
Isabella’s smile told Alianor she was pleased with the gift.
“Now, I must go.” Alianor assumed the normally timid Queen would be too frightened to take the risk of going with her, but just in case she added, “Alone.”
“Nay,” Isabella said, surprising her with the firmness in her voice. “I often travel about, and this late in my pregnancy, Lilith is always with me for she has midwifery skills. No one will question my actions.”
“But the hour is late. Surely it will rouse suspicion.”
Isabella shook her head. “’Tis not unknown for me to visit a shrine for worship, even at midnight.”
“I don’t know what to say, my Queen. You’ve already done far more than I can ever repay.”
“There is nothing to repay. You were devoted to me for many years, Nora. I shall miss you”
“And I, you,” Alianor replied, her throat tight with tears as she hugged Isabella. “I must ask one more favor of you.”
Isabella knew what she wanted and sighed. “’Tis too dangerous. You must not risk seeing him. Let us leave for the shrine.”
“Please, Your Majesty, I must see Liam,” Alianor pleaded.
“Are you prepared to gamble your only chance at freedom?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Then you will wait here. There are a few things I must do first.”
Alianor placed her hand upon Isabella’s arm when she turned to leave, her worry lining her face. The Queen patted her hand and said simply, “Trust me, Nora. I know what must be done.”
Chapter Thirty-one
QUEEN ISABELLA SLIPPED INTO her husband’s private chambers and quietly closed the door behind her. A satisfied smile played on her lips when she heard John’s angry tantrum in the adjoining room. Lord de Lacy had escaped, and John was preoccupied making plans for revenge. He was ready to overrun Ireland, his fury compelling him to crush de Lacy and seize all his properties. He assumed Alianor was still with de Lacy and was anxious to wreak revenge on them both.
Isabella heard him tell his guards instead of executing Liam Caomhánach as planned, he had decided to keep the Irishman in Fountainhall’s dungeon. Later he would dispense with Caomhánach in a public execution before the Irish rabble, to show what happened to rebels and false princes. He considered it a brilliant maneuver, driving de Lacy from his lands, and making a spectacle of Caomhánach’s death. It would send a message to potential troublemakers — do not trifle with the King of England.
After listening to John explain his tactics to his men, Isabella made her way back to her room, a smile still on her lips. John’s plans would take time to enact, and give Alianor opportunity to return and gather Liam’s people together. Isabella was thankful her husband’s conceit and temperament proved beneficial for once.
Fountainhall was in a state of uproar. The two women’s journey down to the dungeon went unnoticed. The stench was vile as they moved through the dark corridors into the bowls of the castle. Isabella feared she would vomit. An ambergris scented cloth did little to mask the foul scent, but determination drove her further into the hellhole, Alianor following at her heels.
Isabella had already prepared the castle guards; the coin she had bribed them with sufficient to keep them silent about their visit to the Irish prisoner. It was not the first time they had been party to a little intrigue, and the extra coin thrust upon them also ensured Caomhánach came to no serious harm during his stay. Of course, the success of matters rested upon Alianor’s shoulders. Isabella had faith in this resilient young woman, but once Alianor left the castle, she could be no further aid to her.
Isabella paused before the cell where Caomhánach was held, taking a moment to control the rush of dread shaking her as she faced the gloomy hole. She made Alianor wait outside, wishing to speak with Liam alone first.
Picking up her skirts, Isabella swept into the darkness. One of the guards hurriedly cast the light of his lantern ahead of her, setting it upon the floor of the cell. Before he withdrew, she ordered the jailer to release the prisoner from the manacles chaining him to the stone wall.
Liam moaned and nearly collapsed as he was lowered for the first time in many hours. Isabella was relieved to see his injuries had been tended as ordered, and a fresh bandage covered the worst wound on his thigh. Liam blinked under the glare of the lantern light, but when his vision cleared his eyes widened at the sight of her. She waited until he was able to speak.
“Your Majesty,” he rasped. It came out more a question because, for a second, he wondered if a vision of Mary had appeared in his cell. Too stiff to bow, he nodded to acknowledge her.
“Caomhánach. I’m sorry for your predicament,” she said. He heard sincerity in her tone. “I wish there was more I could do to aid you.”
Liam looked at the pregnant Queen. Isabella was so young, too kind and good-natured to be wed to a man like King John.
“I have brought someone to see you.”
Liam looked at her warily. “Who, Your Majesty?” he asked, though instinctively he knew.
“Alianor. But you must be careful,” Isabella added, lowering her voice. “You must not draw the guards’ attentions, lest they grow suspicious. Nora insisted I bring her here, despite my objections. She was determined and would not leave until she saw you.”
Before Liam could speak, Isabella stepped forward and gently brushed her fingers over his bruised, split lips to silence him. “But for the grace of God she nearly killed the King, and thereby is in grave danger. Do not give the guards reason to believe your visitors are other than me and my maid.”
The expression in Isabella’s tired eyes hinted at the trauma she had been through, and Liam understood the risks the Queen took by being here as well. However, he had no idea why Isabella risked so much for them. He knew she was fond of Alianor, but who would risk a crown for friendship?
Instead, he asked, “Why did Alianor try to kill the King?”
Isabella looked away, her distress obvious. “I cannot say. Be thankful she escaped him.”
Panic rose in his breast, and before Liam thought better of it, he stepped forward and touched Isabella’s arm before she could turn away. “Please, Your Majesty. What happened?”
Tears spilled onto Isabella’s face and sorrow scored her voice. “John tried to force Nora to honor an agreement between him and de Lacy.”
“What agreement?” Liam grew frantic when she went silent. “What do you mean? I beg you, be honest with me.”
Isabella covered her face with her hands. She sobbed out, “To my shame, John intended to ravish Nora on her wedding night, and de Lacy agreed. If that was not dishonorable enough, John used your life as leverage to demand her submission.”
“God’s wounds,” Liam whispered, the realization striking him with a force so great his knees threatened to buckle.
“And to my shame,” Alianor’s soft voice reached him from the doorway, and broke through the terrible agony claiming him, “I could not submit, Liam. Not even to save your life.”
Her words were laced with guilt and mortification. With a groan of anguish, Liam opened his arms to her. Alianor ran to him, and his arms closed about her.
“I struck and almost killed him, but I could not let him rape me.”
“Thank Jesu you are safe.” He pulled back and she saw the tenderness in his eyes. “I would have died a thousand deaths if he had hurt you.”
She reached up and touched his face. “As I die a little each day I am without you. I could not leave without seeing you first.”
Liam hugged her, but all the same scolded her. “You risk too much, Alianor. You must accept the fact there i
s naught you can do for me.”
“Fountainhall has fallen.” Alianor gazed up at him. “The King has claimed de Lacy’s holdings for treason.”
Liam couldn’t believe what he heard. A growl escaped his throat. “De Lacy’s alive?”
“Yes.” Alianor explained what had happened and what the Queen had overheard. “The King’s plan to raise an army and crush de Lacy gives me time to return to Wolf Haven and gather your people together. There is surely a way you can be freed, but it will take more than me alone to accomplish the feat.”
Liam pulled away from her. “No.”
“It’s the only way to save you, Liam.”
“No, Alianor, you must not risk so many lives for one man.” He raked a hand through his hair, agitated at the thought of anyone risking their life for him.
“Remember the legend …”
He shook his head and stated firmly. “A faerytale, as you told me. The Emerald Prince does not exist.”
“I believe now,” Alianor said with confidence. “I know you are the prince Connacht has waited for.”
“Then you are a fool.”
The Queen made a distressed noise at his harsh retort, but Liam was afraid. Afraid of losing the one good thing in his sorry life: he could not let Alianor risk everything for his sake.
“I’ll not let you die,” Alianor argued, tears making her voice tremble. “Your people won’t let you die. Give us a chance to prove our devotion, Liam.”
Again, he shook his head. “You must accept my fate, as they must.” He could not look at her any longer, knowing her agonized expression would tear him apart. If he weakened, if he allowed this foolishness and encouraged her dream, they would all be lost in the end. This way, there was a chance for Alianor and his people.
“There must be a way you can escape abroad,” he muttered.
“I sail for Normandy on the morrow,” Queen Isabella said. “John has already agreed to it. I seek the comfort of my mother’s presence at my next son’s birth. Nora can come with me, disguised as one of my servants.”