Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance)

by Anna Markland

  The man wiped his sleeve across his brow. “If she is not too badly injured and after Malraux de Carnac exacts his droit de seigneur, the hero lies with the maiden. On occasion they marry, but more often the girl is cast out of the village as a hore.”

  Vincent’s anger showed on his face. “He demands droit de seigneur, in front of everyone?”

  “He delights in it. For him it signals the success of the celebrations.”

  Denis bristled. “Paulina is inside his demesne. We must get to her.”

  Adam laid a hand on his brother’s arm. “Non, far wiser to locate Le Manio and make our stand there. He will not harm her in his home.”

  They slid down the rise and set off for Le Manio. Not one word was exchanged as they hiked quickly, steam rising from their heated bodies despite the chill in the air. The ancient monolith came into view. They edged closer, keeping out of sight, though there seemed to be no one about.

  Shame flooded Denis as his shaft hardened uncomfortably, but a quick glance at the others made him feel slightly better. He was not the only one affected by the phallic shape of the enormous rock that towered twenty feet, an unmistakable symbol of male pride and power.

  Even Adam was adjusting his breeches.

  Oh, the bawdy jests that would have been flung back and forth had they come upon this giant monolith under other circumstances! They would have been on their knees, indulging in male horseplay, hysterical with laughter.

  But the stout wooden scaffolding on either side of the Manio brought home to them Malraux’s evil intent. A serf was atop the platform slung between the two towers of scaffolding. He seemed to be spreading a canvas over some sort of mechanism. The scaffolding swayed with his movements.

  “It’s a windlass,” Adam said. “He plans to hoist her up.”

  Denis turned to Adam, his heart in knots. “We need a plan. If Malraux throws Paulina from that height she will not survive. I am not the best man to catch her.”

  Adam pressed his thumb and forefinger against his bottom limp repeatedly. As he and the others devised a plan, the serf climbed down and sauntered off into the woods.

  Adam spoke at last. “I will catch her. If there is interference from locals, Vincent will hold them off with the help of the Bretons.”

  Denis bristled. “What am I to do?”

  Adam looked into his brother’s eyes, then up at the platform. He laid a hand on Denis’ arm. “You must climb the scaffolding, hide under the canvas, and confront Malraux, or whoever takes Paulina to the top. We cannot all go up to prevent his throwing her. It will not take our weight.”

  Denis swallowed hard, dragging his gaze to the top of the giant rock. “Can we not confront him at the bottom, before he takes her up?”

  Adam shook his head. “There is no cover at the base of the rock. We would be five against Malraux’s men and the villagers. This way we hold the element of surprise. He will not expect another dwarf atop Le Manio!”

  Denis grinned half heartedly. “And the drunken villagers won’t expect anyone to rush forward to save a dwarf.”

  Vincent shaded his eyes to look up, his brow furrowed. “I suppose he means to raise her up with yon pulley. What does he think she is—a sack of grain? I will kill him for this.”

  Denis put a hand on his arm. “Non, that will be my pleasure.”

  The old Breton interrupted. “Forgive me, mes seigneurs, but everyone from the village and surrounding area will be wearing a disguise or costume of some sort. We must fashion masks for ourselves.”

  Denis chuckled as they sauntered off into the woods. “I’ll help, but I won’t need a mask. My face will be terrifying enough for Malraux when I spring forth from under the canvas.”

  ~~~

  Denis was the first to notice the glow on the near horizon. “They’ve torched the fires in the village. Best we leave now so I can get to the top of Le Manio before the procession arrives.”

  It was difficult to keep from smiling, despite his anguish. Adam and Vincent looked like uprooted trees. The Breton lad had woven thin branches from laurel trees into an elaborate crown for their heads, then twined more laurel and ivy around their tunics. Faces blackened with dirt completed the effect. Denis might have been fooled had he bumped into them on a dark night.

  Adam scratched the side of his ear with his fingertip. “Every insect in creation is crawling in my hair.”

  The two Bretons put the finishing touches on their own disguises as the group set off for Le Manio. Vincent and Adam held the base of the scaffolding firm as Denis began his ascent. The scaffolding had been designed for bigger men and he had to stretch to reach the next crosspiece, then heave his body up to it. Never had his short legs been more of a curse. Planks had been set across the horizontal poles, which were lashed to the verticals with rope, so he at least had a firm footing to stand on each time. Some of the horizontals had been tied loosely to the monolith.

  He dared not look down, but knew Adam and Vincent stood ready to catch him if he fell. He was sweating profusely and panting hard as he gathered one end of the canvas and slid his aching body beneath it to wait, slumped against a crude wooden windlass. He felt like he had climbed to the top of Rouen cathedral.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Adam and Vincent stole off to lurk in nearby bushes.

  Soon men bearing flaming torches entered the clearing, followed by shawm and bodhran players. Behind them men and women danced and cavorted to the beat of the lively music, many seemingly already under the influence of intoxicating substances. Adam felt the vibration of the drums in his bones.

  The rescuers came out of the shadows to mingle with the growing throng in the clearing. Behind the dancers marched a small contingent of Carnac’s men-at-arms, looking anything but menacing with their halos of laurel leaves. Then came Malraux, mounted on an elaborately liveried gelding, waving to the cheering crowd, every finger richly jewelled. He wore a black velvet doublet and leggings, the only man present not in costume.

  The torch bearers lit the small piles of wood ranged around the perimeter. A gust of wind swirled the smoke around. Adam blinked away the sting, reminded of the night of the fire at Kingston Gorse when his life had changed completely. Rosamunda had brought hope and love back into his life. He longed to hold her again, to be assured of her safety.

  He grunted and nudged Vincent. “Letyce Revandel rides next to Malraux. Let’s hope she does not see through our disguises. Take care her gaze does not fall on you.”

  Vincent gasped. “Paulina.”

  Behind Malraux, a servant led a palfrey atop which sat a maiden dressed in a voluminous white robe with a red cape that flowed from her shoulders to cover the horse’s rump. A black hood hid her hair and face. Her hands were tied to the pommel, but her head hung limply, her shoulders sagging.

  Adam put a restraining hand on Vincent as he moved towards the woman. “Too soon.”

  Vincent shrugged him off. “That’s my sister, Adam. She looks like she has been drugged. The macabre outfit makes her seem like a giantess.”

  An uncomfortable churning sensation twisted in Adam’s belly. “You’re right. Look at her hands.”

  Vincent’s eyes widened. “They are too big. It’s not Paulina.”

  The relief in Vincent’s voice was palpable, but Adam’s heart raced. “Then who is it?’

  Vincent frowned. “Rosamunda?”

  Vincent’s voicing of his beloved’s name made the possibility real. Adam was certain it had been Rosamunda’s footprints on the beach and cliff path, and it was likely the male imprints belonged to Malraux. Few others in the vicinity would own a horse. Perhaps the other woman had been Letyce?

  But then what had become of Paulina? He did not know which he dreaded more, that Rosamunda was indeed the hooded woman tied to the palfrey, or Denis discovering Paulina had disappeared and had perhaps never made it to Bretagne. They had found her cloak, but no trace of her.

  By now the clearing was crowded. Adam noticed most of the women had withd
rawn to the perimeter where barrels of ale had been set up on trestles. A steady stream of patrons plied their way to and from these improvised taverns as the women tucked coins into their aprons.

  “Now I see what the women get out of this,” he remarked sarcastically to Vincent, but the latter seemed too intent on the hooded woman to listen.

  Malraux dismounted and swaggered to the base of Le Manio. He made an expansive gesture to the crowd indicating they should continue their revels. The servant who had led the palfrey pulled open the cape, slid it off the woman’s shoulders and tossed it aside.

  A cheer went up from the crowd. The woman wore some sort of harness that criss-crossed between her breasts, emphasizing their size and shape. Adam recognized those beautiful globes and his heart bled with shame and indignation for Rosamunda. He wanted to rush forward to cover her. Beside him Vincent growled like a caged animal.

  The servant attached the pulley to the back of the harness. The crowd inhaled a collective breath as the servant started the climb up the scaffold. The music stopped.

  Malraux remounted his gelding.

  “He wants to make sure the horde can see him,” Vincent remarked sarcastically.

  “Let’s hope they keep their attention fixed on him and not on the top of the platform,” Adam growled.

  He wished there was some way to alert Denis, who believed it was Paulina about to be hoisted to the top of Le Manio, though if he had peeked out at the woman from his hiding place he might have seen it was not her. Perhaps in the dark he was too high up to tell. When the servant got to the platform, Denis would have to render him harmless or risk discovery. “Thank God for the smoke. At least it makes it difficult to see the top of the scaffolding.”

  The seigneur de Carnac cleared his throat. A hush fell over the swaying crowd. “People of Carnac, and surrounds. Welcome to our annual All Hallows’ Eve observances. I trust everyone has had an amusing time thus far.”

  Cheers confirmed his remarks, but Adam kept his attention on the servant as he neared the top.

  Malraux scanned the crowd and coughed again, seemingly irritated that some among his audience were more interested in the man climbing the frame than in him. He raised his voice. “Soon comes the high point of our evening.”

  Murmurs of excitement rose from the crowd.

  “You may be wondering whom I have chosen to be your virgin sacrifice this year. Not one from among you, but a beauty nevertheless.”

  He traced his finger over the front straps of the woman’s harness, and smiled. “As you see.”

  More bawdy cheers.

  Raged boiled up in Adam’s throat. He would cut off that defiling hand before he killed the man. He glanced back to the platform and his mouth fell open. Denis had somehow managed to dispatch the servant and take his place by the windlass. If he had accomplished it without Adam’s noticing, there was hope anyone glancing up would see only a shadowed figure they would believe was hunched over to work the contraption.

  Malraux raised his hand. “Our virgin sleeps now—a little tonic to settle her nerves.”

  Laughter rippled through the clearing, churning Adam’s gut.

  “But she will wake momentarily so we can appreciate fully her enjoyment of the proceedings.”

  Vincent swore. “And I thought my mother was evil.”

  Adam clenched his fists when Malraux produced a dagger from his belt. He slit the ropes binding Rosamunda’s wrists to the pommel.

  She stirred.

  “Courage, mon amour,” Adam whispered, dreading the moment she would awake and discover where she was. “I am here.”

  Malraux raised his hand again. “At my signal, Roget will raise our angel. I myself will climb up to free her into your waiting arms. She may cling to the Manio as long as she can, but eventually she will fall.”

  He wagged a finger. “However, in your enthusiasm, don’t forget my droit de seigneur.”

  Many men licked their lips, no doubt conjuring an image of a maiden clinging for dear life to the giant phallus. Adam feared he might retch.

  Malraux glanced up briefly, then dropped his hand. The palfrey moved restlessly as the maiden was lifted from its back. The jerk of the winch seemed to revive the woman, and she fumbled with the hood, dragging it off.

  Adam must have drawn blood as he dug his fingernails into Vincent’s arm. Rosamunda’s wild blond hair stood up on end. Fear twisted her beautiful face into a grimace as she mouthed her terror, kicking her legs.

  Malraux chuckled as he put his foot on the bottom of the scaffold. “I forgot to mention, gentlemen, the virgin is mute.”

  For a moment the men stood dumbfounded, then raucous laughter rang out as jests were exchanged about the benefits of having a woman without a voice.

  Adam put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “Denis must be aware by now it’s Rosamunda he is hoisting. Once Malraux gets up there—that’s a lot of weight for the scaffold to support. I will stand ready to catch her if she drops. You and the Bretons keep the others at bay. We’ll have to leave Malraux to Denis. At least he has the element of surprise.”

  ~~~

  Denis was alarmed at how much Paulina weighed! He tightened his grip on the handle of the winch. His back was breaking and she wasn’t half way up to the platform. He knew the moment she started to struggle. His biceps strained like the devil to keep her moving. “Keep still, mon ange, I am bringing you to me,” he whispered, bracing his legs.

  He had heard Malraux’s declaration of his intention to climb the scaffold. It was vital he free Paulina from the pulley before the monster reached the top. As her head came into view, he almost let go of the windlass. It was Rosamunda’s dishevelled hair! “Don’t struggle, Rosamunda. It’s me, Denis.”

  She glanced up at the platform. His heart broke for the terror in her eyes. Thank God it was not Paulina. But where was she?

  He had no time to ponder that now. First he had to save Rosamunda from a dangerous fall. “As soon as you reach the platform, lie still while I unfasten the pulley. Adam is below.”

  She took a deep shuddering breath as she grabbed for the edges of the platform. Denis felt the scaffold sway as Malraux climbed nearer, urged on by the drunken sots below. He let go of the windlass handle, jamming the peg into the hole to brake it, then pulled in the rope hand over hand. He unhooked the pulley as Rosamunda scrambled to her feet. She clung to him so tightly he feared they might both pitch forward off the platform. “Easy. We must not give Malraux a hint there is aught amiss.”

  He drew his sword. “Get behind the windlass. Pay no heed to the body hidden there.”

  She stumbled in the long gown, but did as he bade.

  ~~~

  Malraux paused in his ascent. The mob had gone strangely quiet. He looked down. One man, taller than most, stood alone in the centre of the clearing looking up at Le Manio. Like the rest, he was disguised as a tree. Peasants had no imagination.

  Then he noticed three other men standing in a half circle with their backs to the man, two with daggers drawn, and the other with a sword. They were warning off all comers.

  What in the name of the saints? Had some wretch connived to get the virgin for himself?

  Though they were being held away by three armed men, the rest had their attention fixed on the platform. What was going on up there?

  He peered up, but saw nothing except smoke and the planks under the windlass. What was Roget doing? He would pay dearly if he’d had a part in any plot to let one man have the mute. He drew his dagger, clenching it between his teeth as he continued his ascent. He wished he had had complete supervision over the construction of the scaffold. Serfs never did a thorough job.

  He laughed at the scene that confronted him when he arrived onto the platform, grasping the dagger. “Denis de Sancerre! You came! I hoped you would. Perhaps we will toss a dwarf off Le Manio tonight.”

  He eyed Denis’ sword, pointing to it with his weapon. “What do you hope to achieve with your pig poker?”

  He l
unged, anticipating a quick thrust to his enemy’s heart, but the dwarf nimbly avoided his blade. He reached for the handle of the windlass to steady himself, noticing the mute crouched behind it. If he got his hands on her—

  But Sancerre attacked. The runt had better sword skills than Malraux had anticipated, but no matter—

  He avoided the blow, spun on his heel and thrust his dagger again, momentarily distracted by the loud creaking of the scaffold and the sweat running off his brow.

  He rubbed his eyes, surprised to see Sancerre at the opposite side of the platform, apparently unhurt. He glanced down to see faces turned up to watch what was happening. What a fool he must look dancing around with a dwarf armed with nothing but a miniature sword. Time to finish this quickly.

  He reached behind the windlass to grab the mute’s arm. She struggled, until he threatened her with the knife. “Let go of the hoist,” he commanded, dragging her back against his body, his free arm clamped around her waist, the dagger at her throat.

  She shook her head defiantly.

  The dwarf came closer, brandishing his sword, his ugly face twisted in anger. “Let her go, Malraux.”

  Malraux winced as the mute’s elbow connected sharply with his gut. The dwarf lunged, slicing open his bicep. Malraux dropped the dagger and fell against the windlass.

  An ominous cracking sound caught everyone’s attention.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Adam rushed to the scaffolding the moment Malraux grabbed Rosamunda. He narrowed his eyes, peering up. “The planks under the windlass have given way,” he yelled to Vincent and the others.

  He backed away hurriedly as the hoisting mechanism teetered, then fell. People screamed and fled, but the windlass suddenly jerked to a halt, crashing against the scaffolding. Pieces of broken planking clattered to earth, not far from where Adam stood, but the windlass dangled precariously, apparently held in place by the rope and pulley.

  His heart in his throat, he looked up again. All he could see of Rosamunda was the voluminous gown billowing out like a white cloud against the night sky. She was clinging to the horizontal pole of the platform. Denis struggled to pull her to safety. But most of the planking was gone, making the platform a dangerous place.