The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  Dressed in her night things and cocooned in a blanket, they settled the minstrel on the ticking since the sheets still fluttered through the window.

  “Someone’s coming.” Artair looked ready to bolt.

  Luveday looked to the others, who wore equal looks of concern and defiance. She wondered what had taken them so long. Had they found them missing and started a search? She didn’t think so; there had been no alarm. So, they had finally come to collect her.

  The door was tired but didn’t budge. Luveday looked to the small washstand and Beatrix must have had the same idea for a moment later, while men yelled, and heavy objects banged on the door, they placed the small was stand in front of the door wedging it under a metal band. They moved back to the bed, Beatrix rounding it to stand on the far side holding on to a post like her life depended on it. Luveday gave a knife to the minstrel, while she perched on the side staring straight at the door. Artair climbed the bed and came to rest at her back.

  Luveday willed the door to hold as she heard Sterling scream curses at her. Beatrix gasped at the vulgar things they could hear clearly through the door. Hardin growled while shifting closer. Artair wrapped an arm around Luveday’s right arm and set his head on her shoulder, but she didn’t look away from the door. Luveday clutched the meat knife Emmalyn had given her all those months ago in her right fist. The blade was little use against the weapons in the hands of the men on the other side of the door, but it’s presence was somehow reassuring.

  The door shuttered and jerked, but despite all odds, held.

  More cursed traversed the space between them, but soon more voices, urgent and completing sounded, though they were less clear. Sterling vented his rage at the door, bellowing his fury she had no doubt the furious pounding of the door was his last effort to get to her, but still the door held.

  After a moment the voices quieted, footsteps receded, and the tower grew silent. A few moments later the courtyard below their window was full of activity. People ran about with panicked activity. Beatrix moved to the window while Luveday and Hardin still stared at the door.

  “Down there, lady. That’s Sterling’s men.” She pointed, her arm moving to follow the men below. “They’re leaving.” She gasped in suppressed joy.

  Still, they watched the door, afraid it might be some trick. Minutes passed with not a peep.

  Sterling’s voice echoed from somewhere below the window, and only then did they breathe easier.

  A gentle knock sounded at the door. A knock everyone seemed to know.

  Getting to her feet, Luveday removed the washstand and stared at the tray. Its handle was wedged in the gap between door and frame. The metal handle was bend with the effort of the guard to enter the room, and for a moment the lady wondered if she would be able to pry it free or even if she should.

  Hardin stood on week legs and shuffled over to her. His hand on her shoulder startled Luveday out of her thoughts. He only nodded.

  “Lady Luveday.” A soft voice called with a note of question.

  “Coming, Lady Claudia.” She answered as she tugged the tray free.

  A heartbeat later the two women faced each other over the threshold. Luveday noticed the slight widening of her enemy’s eyes as Claudia took in the minstrel and her serving woman. The boy took her attention for a moment, and a flash of something dark colored her expression before it was gone as if it had never been.

  “It seems you were more of a challenge than he thought.” She smiled a bit bitterly, but there was also a ruefulness there. Claudia must have warned her lover not to underestimate a woman. Clearly, he had not taken her advice. “Your escort has returned.”

  “Lord St. James is here?” Luveday asked, not sure if she should close the door in the woman’s face and barricade themselves in that room until Benedict himself came knocking at the door or trust her that Sterling had fled. Speaking of which, she asked what had changed the tide. “Sterling decided to run from the King’s wrath?” And this time there was a small twitch at the corner of Claudia’s eye, before she sighed releasing a large breath.

  “Nay, Sterling has never feared the King, more fool him.” She seemed to give him up as a lost cause. “St. James is hardly enough to make him balk. Nay, he would relish the challenge of defeating the sworn brother of the King’s champion. What a blow to the Wolf that would have been; Aye?” She laughed a little under her breath at the thought. “Nay, Lady Luveday. That would not have been enough.”

  “What then?” A raspy voice asked over her shoulder. Hardin’s voice was hoarse, no doubt from days of screaming, crying and pleading for his release.

  Claudia smiled though it was much more subdued than her usual alluring turn of the lip. “It seems Lady, you have quite a number of champions.”

  Looking confused, she was about to ask before Claudia stepped away and gestured for them to follow. “Come.”

  Instead of descending the stair she ascended a small set tucked out of the way. At the top of which was a small door that stood slightly ajar allowing a shaft of mid-morning sunlight to dazzle their eyes. Claudia led the way, followed by Luveday who groped a moment in her blindness. Hardin was behind her and grasped her to steady himself. Luveday turned to help him, though the staircase was not large enough for them to stand abreast, she turned until she rested under his arm to act as a human crutch. The minstrel paused in the doorway where there was a slight landing and a bay cut out of the cone-shaped roof. Before them was the battlements atop the round tower and a view that took Luveday’s breath away. Fields of flowers, corps of trees dotted the gently rolling landscape before her. Below were the courtyard and the South wall, the same wall the chamber window looked upon. Luveday followed Claudia with her eyes as she moved toward the east side and the main courtyard with its gate lay below. The road was a long ribbon of hard packed dirt that cut through the land. Luveday thought it should look out of place in all the greenery, but instead, it looked more like a garden path moving easily amid the garden the creator had given them.

  “Come and see for yourself, Luveday.” Claudia gestured down the road where Luveday could see a mass of riders approaching. Their number was much greater than her escort, and yet Luveday swore she could make out the familiar outline of Benedict and the King’s men. Calling over the breeze, Claudia beaconed once again, forgetting their titles. “Come Luveday. Your release is at last at hand.”

  Hardin grabbed a fist of her skirts as Luveday started to move closer. Turning back, the minstrel gave her a warning look and shook his head. He was breathing hard but fought to take the last steps to join her. For a moment her concern was only for him. Days spent in the cramped hole with little food or drink submerged in putrid water for hours on end she marveled that he still had the strength to sit upright let alone stand beside her.

  The two advanced on the Lady of Briar’s Gate as she stood a golden silhouette amongst the beauty of her lands, hands clenched tightly at her waist. She looked hard, and beautiful and then she turned toward Luveday and the vision shattered.

  Hatred, pure rage distorted a face too lovely into something horrible. Luveday took an involuntary step back, Hardin bumping into her back. Words, half hiss, half scream left Claudia’s lips. “Everything is gone. Taken from me, everything because of you!” She lunged, but at the same moment, several things happened.

  Something darted passed Hardin and Luveday though the edge of the tower was perilously close. The breeze which had been playing with their hair on and off went still for a heartbeat before a large gust swept around them hitting Claudia full in the face. In the lull between the wind’s breath, Luveday and Hardin reached for Artair as he went by them afraid the boy would fall to his death. Claudia lunged and revealed a small container in her hand and squeezed it. The liquid made a fine mist on the air, but before it could travel the few feet between them, the wind blew hard, throwing the mist back into the lady’s face.

  She was screaming, screaming as Luveday had never heard as angry red marks appeared over C
laudia’s face. Holes were burned into her beautiful gown as the mist settled over her. Luveday watched in horror as realization dawned. Acid, that little container had held acid and Claudia had meant to burn her.

  “Horrible, miserable child.” She screamed looking at Artair and blaming him. “Devil take you, I should have buried you the night I birthed you.” Hardin gasped, as Luveday drew the boy to her. He shook in her arms as they stared up at Claudia’s ruined face. “It wasn’t enough that you took him from me? Always worried about your future and not me, not what I had done, but what he would leave you.” She laughed bitterly and smeared a hand across her face. Skin fell in patches leaving muscle and bone exposed. “All gone.” She whispered to no one. Looking Luveday in the eye with every ounce of hate that could be condensed into such a small frame. “If you had never come it all would have turned out right. Years of planning would have made it right!”

  Shouts from the courtyard heralded the opening of the gate. Suddenly, Claudia’s expression was full of panic as if one emotion had erased the other. “What will they do to me?” She turned back to look at Luveday who saw something in her eyes.

  “Claudia!” She called and took a step forward, but the lady was already moving. One moment she stood at the edge of the battlements, and the next she lay motionless on the stones below. Luveday gasped, her stomach and mind rolling. Artair turned to huddle in her embrace as Hardin leaned heavy on the roof and placed a hand on her back. Moving the boy to stay with the minstrel, Luveday carefully moved to the edge and looked down. The courtyard was full of people, screaming and crying. Men looked from the broken body up to the tower roof and back as if they couldn’t quite believe their eyes. Benedict had dismounted and stood just a few feet from the fallen women, but his eyes met Luveday’s and held all the horror she knew mirrored in her own.

  Questions, answers and more questions. Beatrix, Hardin, Artair, and Luveday sat in the great room under interrogation from Benedict and Lord Grayson Stern. It seemed that the two had met on the road, and while his wife had stayed behind with their daughter and new grandchild, Grayson had received Benedict’s letter thanks to Sir Bernard’s foresight. Rather than journeying home, the northern lord had come to Briar’s Gate to offer aid. What they had found was far from the gentle scene of domestic tranquility they had expected. Grayson, looking at the Lady and the boy huddled in her lap, could not believe that little more than two hours ago he was convinced, as Benedict had been, that the rumors about Lady Claudia were nothing but vicious gossip and that something had to be done to help the lady.

  “And this Leah woman, can swear to your words?” Grayson asked. The lady looked up to him a bit of heat showing in her bleak eyes. Stern didn’t believe the lady could fake that sort of stunned grief. She might not have had cause to care for lady Claudia, but all could see that she was sorrowful for the woman’s death.

  “Sterling,” Benedict growled, not for the first time. When Beatrix had tearfully told her end of the tale, it seemed all Benedict had heard was the traitor’s name and not much more. “We should go after him, before he…”

  Grayson clamped the younger lord on the shoulder. “He is already to sea by now Benedict. That is if he’s a smart man. And the one thing Ladislaus is good at is …”

  “Saving his own skin.” Luveday finished for him.

  Again, he looked to the young woman, and not for the first time thought that Iain should have scooped this one up and locked her in a tower and thrown that courtesan out on her spoiled little arse. A Northern Lord needed a woman who could hold her own and lead their people while her husband dealt with any threats by the sword. Christabel had never been such a woman, would never be. “Hum…” He thought that if he were unwed and a little younger, he would have liked the lady for himself. Then again, he had heard the mess De Lane was in and wondered what the future might hold for both of them.

  “She’s right,” Benedict grumbled under his breath.

  Grayson felt the disappointment of his prey slipping through his fingers, but the group was focused on the tragedy of Lady Claudia, and the story had come too late to give a timely chase.

  “Where is momon?” A small boy asked again.

  Luveday looked over the boy’s head to Beatrix, who stood in the corner talking to servants in hushed tones. The serving woman gave her a tear-bright stare and shook her head. Leah had not been found, and Luveday feared that Sterling might have taken the woman with him, or something ill had befallen her. Sir Rolf appeared with a handful of parchment, and all eyes turned to him.

  “What do you have there, Sir Rolf?” Grayson asked as the knight shifted through the papers trying to put them back in order.

  “I searched the tower with the men,” he looked to the minstrel. “It’s as was said, a cell in the floor of the tower’s lower room.” None had doubted their words, but Grayson had hoped that there was a limit to the dark secrets this place held. “I found these in the… study, you called it, Lady Luveday?” She nodded as he handed over the documents.

  A deep frown grooved Stern’s face before he handed the parchments to Benedict. “The hand is too curvy; I can’t make sense of it.” He admitted with no shame.

  Benedict looked, but a similar expression soon settled over him. He looked up, but the other men in the room looked wary. A few shook their heads indicating that they would be of no help until Benedict’s gaze landed on Luveday who looked up at him expectantly. His lips quirked at one corner, a slight smile that was all he could muster given their circumstances. “Would you be so kind, My Lady?” He didn’t have to ask, Luveday eagerly accepted the stack of thick paper.

  Luveday flipped through the parchment and looked to Sir Rolf as Artair moved to settle in beside her. “Are these as you found them? You didn’t shuffle their order?”

  The knight looked as if it took a moment to understand, but he caught her meaning. “No Lady. They are in the order I found them.”

  She nodded and scooted a little so that the firelight and the candlelight in the room better illuminated the parchment. Luveday read and reread the papers, looked to the boy then Benedict, then Beatrix who nodded at her unspoken question then back to Artair before scanning the papers again.

  “Well, My Lady?” Stern asked impatiently.

  “Leah is much more involved than I had thought, and you too Beatrix.” The serving woman stepped forward, head bowed and hands twisting her shirt into nervous knots. “Leah had the old Priest, one Marcus Prim, write down and swear to the truth of these words.”

  “The priest passed on a few months ago; the church has yet to send a replacement. He and all his belongings were taken to Kern Abbey a few miles off.” Benedict had discovered this in his investigation and had journeyed there to look at the registry the villagers said the man had kept fastidiously. “What does it say, Luveday?” Benedict asked growing equally impatient.

  “The short version,” Benedict had heard this saying from her before, but Grayson laughed at the term, “…is that Lady Claudia bore Lord Titus, a son.”

  “Who died before or shortly after his birth.” Grayson nodded having heard the sad news years ago.

  “Nay,” Luveday countered. “It says that the boy lived, but that Lady Claudia was so distraught and angry at her husband that she thought to punish him. She took the dead child of a village woman and claimed it to be her own and gave the boy to the woman to nurse. The young girl was given coin to stay silent and care for the child.” Luveday looked up at them. “Leah says the girl was her daughter, Rose. And that after giving birth to a stillborn babe Rose became sick, never truly recovered, and some months later died. The girl would have taken her secret to the grave, but she was burdened by it and told her mother the truth as she lay on her death bed.”

  Beatrix flushed out the tale. “Lady Claudia and Lord Titus had been fighting for some time. The child was all he talked about and the lady, she didn’t think right. She told me a year after the babe was buried. We were standing over the grave, and she said some
thing strange. Something like ‘What is buried there isn’t deserving of tears.’ I asked her what she meant, but she wouldn’t tell me, not till I told her that her soul was growing hard as stone. She laughed and said it had done that a year past, the night she stole away her husband’s future.” Beatrix gulped and brushed the tear that ran down her cheek. “I thought she meant she had killed the babe, but she explained that she had given it away, and taken Leah’s girl’s dead child as her own. A serving girl’s bastard doesn’t deserve tears, she said. A better fate it could not have wanted, laying among the house of Thorns.”

  “Thorns?” Benedict asked.

  “Aye, My Lord.” Beatrix glanced at him. “The house of Pillar, it’s the name the family gave to the roses that climb the garden walls. Have you never heard us called the house of roses?” She asked.

  “Aye,” Grayson answered. “Many who live along the coast have called Briar’s Gate the house of roses.” He looked to Luveday and then Benedict. “So, she changed it; rather the house of thorns?”

  Beatrix nodded. “I begged her to reveal what she had done, but we both knew that the Lord, rest his soul, would never have forgiven her.”

  Stern eyed her. “So, you kept quiet?”

  “I loved My Lady.” For once, Beatrix looked him square in the eye and stood at her full height.

  Nothing more than curiosity marked the man’s face as he asked, “Yet you helped Lady Luveday despite her wishes.”

  Beatrix looked to Luveday, apology clear in her eyes. “By helping her, I was helping My Lady.”

  Grayson nodded. “A loyal heart, despite the difficult circumstances, I think you did the best you could.”

  Benedict looked as if he might protest but caught a look from the lady that quieted him.