“No,” the king said, “surely there are more villains for me to dispatch. Will you be quiet?”
“My lord,” Eleanor said, lightly touching his shoulder, “these villains are here. Garron needs you. Merry is gone.”
The king lurched up in bed. “What did you say, Eleanor? Merry is gone? What nonsense is this? Who would take her? Why did she run away?”
“Nay, sire, she didn’t run away. Someone took her.” Garron stood in the doorway, fully dressed, his sword in his hand, his eyes wild. “Whalen and his soldiers are searching for her. I don’t understand it—who could have taken her?”
The king was known to move very quickly, both his body and his brain, and so he did. “Was it her mother or Jason of Brennan?”
“Either, both, I don’t know yet.”
“One of the louts fell asleep. Whalen will discover who it was.” He paused a moment. “You told me her mother, Abbess Helen of Meizerling, is reputed to be a witch. Do you think she spirited her away, somehow removed the guards’ memories?”
“I don’t believe witchcraft had anything to do with it. I smelled something sweet in her chamber, a drug of some sort.”
Two of the king’s servants bolted into the chamber, panting, one of them pulling a short tunic over his head, the other holding clothes for the king. Within moments, Edward was striding into the antechamber. “You were not in her bed with her, were you?”
“I was not.” He thought of Blanche, and for an instant, he wondered if she’d known what was happening, if she’d been sent to distract him.
“Then how did you know something happened to her?”
Garron drew up, felt his heart begin to pound. He said slowly, “I don’t know how I knew. Really, I do not, it’s just that suddenly, from one moment to the next, I knew something was wrong, knew it to my heels. I got to her chamber as quickly as I could but she was already gone. They cannot have gotten far.”
Burnell had slipped into the antechamber, wearing a bedrobe as black as a sinner’s heart, a black scarf wrapped around his neck. He was frowning, shaking his head. “What you said, my lord, it makes no sense. You must have been dreaming, and it awakened you. You said you simply knew something was wrong? Surely not. Ah, were you dreaming about her?”
“I wasn’t asleep, I was wide awake.”
Burnell clasped Garron’s arm. “Are you ill to be awake in the middle of the night?”
“I was not ill. I was simply awake. I have only six men with me. If her mother has taken her, know, sire, that she has her own private army. I wish to borrow some men, and ride immediately to Meizerling.”
“Would her mother take her that far? That is a full day’s journey from London.” And the king was frowning toward the doorway where the queen stood, holding the babe in her arms, rocking her. She said, “If her mother took her, surely she would expect you would immediately think of Meizerling Abbey. Would she not hide her elsewhere? I would, were I she.”
The queen was right. “All right, then I must go to Jason of Brennan’s holding. But I do not know where it is.”
Burnell said, “I remember some two years ago, Jason of Brennan’s father, Lord Ranulf, gave him a small keep called Swaines. It is but a half-day’s ride from London.”
Garron nodded to Burnell. “If Jason took her there, I know I will find her mother there as well. I have no doubt the two of them decided together to kidnap her.”
The king looked amazed. “And they decided to kidnap her out of the White Tower? Out of her bedchamber in the White Tower? That is indeed a great show of audacity.”
Burnell said, “Indeed, sire, it demonstrates a great gall. Now, Garron, you know very well that if he has her at Swaines, he will wed her the moment he can drag her in front of a priest. Then he will bed her without delay. I fear it will be done before you can get there.”
“No,” Garron said. “You do not know Merry like I do. She knows I will come after her. Somehow she will stop him, at least delay him. I would not be surprised if she killed him.”
“Your regard for her blinds you, Garron,” Burnell said. “She is but a girl, no guile at all, no skills, no ability to hold off a man.”
“Do you not remember how she brought down that man who was holding a knife to her neck?”
Burnell, if Garron wasn’t mistaken, muttered a very small curse beneath his breath.
The king said, “But surely Jason of Brennan knows I have given her to you, Garron. Is he that great a fool, that mad, to run afoul of me?”
Burnell said, “He doubtless believes once the deed is accomplished you will have no choice but to accept him, sire.”
The king grunted. “I doubt not he would agree to give me more than you did, Garron, if I agreed to leave his head attached to his neck.” Then the king laughed, punched Garron on the arm. “Go find your maid, my lord. I only hope you find her untouched. Tell Whalen he and ten of his men are to accompany you.”
“And I, my lord,” Sir Lyle said from the doorway. He was dressed, his sword strapped at his side, his cloak over one arm.
But Garron knew the king would be loath to kill Jason of Brennan if he had already wedded and bedded Merry. He came from an influential family: his father, Lord Ranulf, was long known by the king, one of his most powerful allies.
“It matters not what has happened, sire, I still plan to kill him. Do not forget, he murdered my brother, he sacked Wareham, and killed many innocent people. If he has taken Merry, if he has harmed her, even forced her to wed him, he is still just as dead.” In that moment, he pictured Merry studying a scrap of parchment, a thoughtful expression on her face as she detailed another item to her list of what should be done to Wareham. She was smart. “I know her. Somehow, she will stop him.”
When Garron was gone, the king turned to Burnell. “I do wonder how he knew Merry was in trouble.”
“Men are known for their intuition, sire. Yours, I vow, is the mightiest intuition in the realm.”
“Your bedrobe is unbelted, Robbie. I can see your hairy knees.”
35
Merry smelled rotten eggs and gagged. She slowly opened her eyes, and wished she hadn’t. The room was spinning around her. She quickly shut her eyes again.
The smell of rotten eggs floated by her nose once more, and she heard her mother’s voice, brisk, impatient, cold as an ice floe, “Wake up, Marianna. It’s past time.”
Merry licked her dry lips. “That smell is horrible.”
“You will accustom yourself to it soon enough. Open your eyes and sit up. You have been asleep for a very long time. I was growing worried that my favorite sleeping potion was too strong for you.”
Merry sat up, felt a wave of dizziness, and tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat, but she couldn’t keep it down. She lurched up and vomited in the basin her mother held in her hands.
She couldn’t stop. Her belly convulsed and cramped and she heaved and shuddered until there was naught else to come up, and still she couldn’t stop heaving. Her stomach felt like it was grinding itself to pieces.
“Drink this.”
Merry could only shake her head and heave again over the chamber pot. She wished for that awful numbing sensation, for her belly was on fire, the cramping so bad she knew she was dying.
Her mother grabbed her braids and pulled her head back. She poured the liquid down her throat, then held her mouth shut with her hands.
She gagged but swallowed. The taste was as horrible as the potion she’d brewed for Miggins’s cough. “I’m dying, poisoned by my own mother. Surely, madam, that is very wrong and God will punish you. Not to mention that my betrothed will gladly stick his sword into your heart.” She swallowed and swallowed again. The liquid burned a trail down her throat all the way to her belly. The burning expanded until all of her was suffocating from the inside out. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t suck in any air. This was death, she thought. She felt her mother release her and push her back against the pillow. She waited for death, for there was naught else
she could do. She didn’t want to believe it, but then her belly began to calm. The fire lessened and grew distant from her, but still, she didn’t move, even when her mother lightly slapped her face. She waited for the death cramps to return, the awful gagging. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes. Her mother was carrying the chamber pot to the door of the small chamber. “Glenis, come empty this.”
Merry thought she saw the outline of a young girl, gowned all in white, from her white slippers to a wimple so large it hid her entire face. Her mother spoke, but she couldn’t understand her words. The girl spoke, did she sound upset, even angry? Why was that? But then the door closed and her mother returned. She looked down at Merry, frowned, and walked to the far side of the room. Merry watched her pull back the fox skin that covered the window. Cool air poured into the room. She sucked in the clean, sweet night air, thinking about nothing else but drawing in the pure air coming into her mouth.
Even though her belly no longer cramped, she continued to rub her palms over herself. I’m not dying, I’m not dying. She doesn’t want to kill me, she wants me alive so she can sell me. Finally, she could think clearly, and remember. When had they taken her? Not much later than midnight, surely. So, they had brought her directly to Meizerling, to her mother, but how was that possible? Meizerling Abbey was at least a day’s ride from London, and it was still night. Had she been unconscious longer than a day? No, she didn’t think so. She wasn’t at Meizerling, she was somewhere else, and that meant no one would know where to search for her.
Or Jason of Brennan was in the next room. That made more sense.
Wherever they’d brought her, she knew she was on her own.
Merry breathed slowly, lightly, continued to lightly rub her belly, still afraid of the cramps and the horrible heaving to return, but there was nothing but calm, thank St. Cuthbert’s tonsured head.
“Thank you,” she said, but didn’t look at her mother, rather down at her night robe, then at her own bare feet, and she realized she was very cold. She sat up, her back against a soft headboard, and tucked her feet under her and pulled the blanket around herself.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“Nearly six hours.”
“Then of course I am not at Meizerling.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until her mother said, “No. You are in a special place of mine, a retreat of sorts where I may study and hone my skills without fear of interruption.”
“Where is Jason of Brennan? Is that murdering worm in the next room, waiting with a priest?”
Her mother laughed. “I would imagine at this moment, your future husband is trying his best to find Arthur’s silver coins.”
“If he finds Arthur’s silver, then why would he want to wed with me?”
“Don’t be stupid. He gives me the silver and I give him you and Valcourt. He kept muttering about his father, Lord Ranulf, but how could Ranulf know what is happening? Is the silver really his? I don’t know, but I suppose so, since where would Jason get that kind of wealth? In any case, once I have the silver, then it will be too late.”
Merry said, “Jason will not get himself into Wareham again. Aleric is on the alert, all are on the alert. There is no way for him to sneak in, much less search for the silver coins.”
Her mother waved away her words, her smooth white hand graceful as it cut through the air. She actually laughed. “I am certain all the people at Wareham will welcome a tinker with laden mules.”
A tinker? By St. Mildred’s croaking voice, they would let a tinker in, gladly; she knew she would were she at Wareham. “What a clever idea.”
“Thank you.”
“Even so, what can one man do? Wareham is a vast keep. It makes no sense, unless Jason has somehow found out where the hiding place is?”
“He told me he did. Who confessed the hiding place to him? I do not know. He only smiled and refused to tell me. Ah, what a blow it was that Arthur died before he could tell Jason where he’d hidden the silver. There would have been no need for the Black Demon, no need for all the butchery at Wareham.”
“What do you mean? Lord Arthur was poisoned, at least that is what everyone at Wareham believes.”
Her mother only shrugged.
“No one knows where the silver is hidden, no one.”
“Evidently you are wrong. Jason is too afraid of me to lie about that. He now knows, but like I said, I do not know who told him.”
“Jason is a coward, he would not have the stomach to enter Wareham. It is Sir Halric who will be the tinker, and Aleric will recognize him and hold him for Garron.”
“I very much doubt that Halric is any longer of this earth. He was incompetent. I ordered Jason to kill him.”
Merry only wished she could have been the one to kill Sir Halric. She cocked her head at her mother. “Do you really believe this time Jason will find the silver and somehow manage to get it out of Wareham?”
“Since he is following my plan, it is more than possible. I told him how to enter Wareham, told him exactly what to do once he is inside the walls. And since he claims that now he knows where Arthur hid all the coins, I have told him how to get it out of Wareham as well. And when he brings me Arthur’s silver, Jason can have you with my blessing.”
Her mother walked away from the narrow bed and strode across the room to the fireplace. She realized in that moment that the room was oddly shaped, like a quarter moon, that was it. Where was she?
Her mother turned toward her. “You understand so very little. Do you know, I think it would be amusing if after all his adventures, Jason’s father chooses not to plead with the king to let you remain Jason’s wife.”
“If I were Jason’s father, Lord Ranulf, I would travel to Rome to beg absolution for having birthed him in the first place.”
“I doubt there is forgiveness for that heinous a transgression. Mayhap the king will remove Jason’s head. Then you, Marianna, will be able to wed whomever you wish, or rather whomever the king wishes. I really do not care, for I will have the silver. If Jason claims it was all my plan, that I have the silver coins, why, he is a liar. I am the renowned Abbess of Meizerling.”
Helen looked down at the pathetic scrap that came from her womb. Just look at that violent red hair of hers, the loosely braided plaits now unraveling. Wicked, that hair, just like Elevine’s hair, that iniquitous witch who was her own mother, who’d misjudged a substance and blown herself apart in an explosion. But not before she’d taught Helen everything she knew. What about Marianna? She had not an ounce of magick in her, Helen had known that since she first held the babe in her arms. She could scent magick, smell the essence of it in the air, and there was nothing coming from the babe. Ella had assured her Marianna was a clever child, and she’d never shown a flicker of natural magick, she’d said, then crossed herself. Clever? Helen wasn’t certain if Ella’s observation pleased her or not. Hadn’t Ella also told her Marianna had learned to read more quickly than Helen had? But she hadn’t believed her. She wanted to blight the old bitch, but she held her anger in since she needed her. Ella was her only tie to Valcourt.
Merry watched her mother, wondered what she was thinking. Reason with her, convince her that this grand scheme of hers cannot work. “I assume you have spies at court and they told you I am to marry Garron of Kersey today, not only with the king’s blessing, but in his presence. Or is Jason of Brennan skulking about and he told you? I wonder if he realized that the queen herself is overseeing my wedding gown? Mayhap he didn’t know the Bishop of London will officiate? You must realize, Mother, that the king is going to be very angry when I am discovered missing. Do you really wish to risk the king’s anger? He could easily remove you from Meizerling and exile you to France, or behead both you and Jason of Brennan.” Were they to ask me, I would tell them to behead the both of you, but she didn’t say it aloud.
“You have kidnapped me from the White Tower, from under the king’s very nose. Garron will know it was you, you have not fooled anyone. If you do not r
eturn me, you must realize that your days will be numbered, madam. Garron will kill you, just as I know he will kill Jason of Brennan.”
It’s working, it’s working, she’s getting worried, I can see it in her eyes. She’s beginning to question herself now.
Merry pressed on, hope filling her now. “Let me tell you about Garron of Kersey, Mother. He is strong and skilled and does not suffer betrayal. He cares for me, madam, truly. Anyone who commits a great wrong against him is wise to fear for his life. He will find me, and you will be in very bad trouble. I do not believe you have given this sufficient thought.”
She’d spoken reasonably, fluently, her logic impeccable. Her father would have been proud of her. To her chagrin, her mother actually laughed. “You know so very little, you foolish girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that whatever happened in the White Tower, I have already changed it into what I wished—like that.” And she snapped her fingers in Merry’s face.
“That makes no sense. I was kidnapped, it happened. All know if something happens, it becomes the past, and no one can change what happened yesterday. Indeed, how can you change anything at all?”
Helen, aware her daughter was following her every move, shook out her beautiful hair, like spun gold, she’d heard both men and women say, smoothed down the soft folds of her white gown, and walked to a long table covered with books. She opened one and read aloud:“Those who come will turn and leave.
Those who leave will never know
Why they left and where they go.
“Those words are but the beginning to a spell written a very long time ago, even before the Romans came to our rain-soaked island. It sounds clever, don’t you think? Does it frighten you, Marianna? And that is only the beginning of the spell. Don’t look so witless. You have heard all your life that I am a witch. It is quite true. I could rule England if I so chose. And there is more, so much more.”
Merry saw fire building in her mother’s beautiful eyes, a deep fire that looked into hearts and brains and cared not if the heart broke or the brain died. How can you have birthed me? You look like my older sister, not my mother. Did you cast a magick spell on me so I am seeing you the way you wish me to? Or have you swallowed potions to actually make yourself ageless?
The Valcourt Heiress Page 20