Defiant Desire

by Anne Carsley

  Guy herded them ahead of him into the chamber they had just quit and did not speak again, but the comprehending horror on his face was enough as he glanced at the picture above the pit and then into it. His face paled, and the free hand clutched his stomach. The sword dropped to the floor, and he raised sick eyes to Julian. “What horror is this?”

  “The horror to which you would have left me, Sir Guy.” In one swift movement she was near to him, kicking the skirts of the gown out of her way and catching up the sword, the point of which she leveled at his throat. “Rob and I go from this place with the dawn. You can stay here in this room or join us; the choice is yours.”

  He stared at her set face and carefully refrained from looking at the gruesome contents of the pit. “What do you want of me? What is this coil?”

  Brother Rob outlined their plan in swift sentences that showed no sign of hesitation. Julian put down the golden ball and maneuvered the sword into striking position. She spared a thought for the way she had changed since that tall man had come to Redeswan almost a year earlier. Would she see another?

  “I am the servant of Mary, the rightful queen. I will take part in no plots against her.” He spoke as if to trumpets that he alone could hear. “It is my oath.”

  Julian knew she could not use the sword if he continued recalcitrant. He had been kind to her on the long journey from Redeswan that time, and his warmth had borne her up during the fearful speculations she had had. No, she could not find it in herself to harm Sir Guy Edmont.

  She said, “The queen was once kind to me, and my mother served hers. I have no wish to plot against her, and her husband has stood good friend to Charles Varland. I only want to free him and escape to France with him. He will fight no more, I guarantee that.” She remembered the passion in his voice with his dying breath and truly believed that love would win him from war. Had they not nearly died together? “You have my oath on that. But there is no time left to bicker.”

  “Varland is mad. The whole city knows it. His keepers have an easy time of it because of that.” Guy was hesitating, his brow furrowed.

  “Mad or sane, he is the only man I will ever have, and I will rescue him or die in the attempt.” The light shimmered on her gown and wreathed her in the glow. Her hair had fallen loose and tumbled over her shoulders; the brilliant eyes had a fire of battles in them.

  Rob remembered the long-ago woman who had set his soul from the priesthood, and Sir Guy thought of the frail woman who was his wife in the Suffolk manor. Had such passion ever been theirs? The romantic in them both responded to the power that was Julian’s in that moment.

  Rob said, “Come with us. It is right. I vow it by the very cross!”

  “And I.” All her sincerity was in her voice, but Charles Varland’s face was before her eyes.

  With the courtliness born of the romances of the dead days of chivalry and his own honor, Sir Guy Edmont spoke to Julian alone. “As long as the right of Queen Mary to remain on her throne is not jeopardized, I will serve you, Lady Julian. My oath on it.”

  Julian answered him in the same tone. “To our quest, then, my friends.”

  Thus, in the chamber of death and anguish, the three swore fealty to each other.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Two hours later the queen’s messenger, accompanied by two men to guide him through the snow and small trails, left Altyn Castle. Orders had been conveyed by the priest, Brother Robert, well known to have the ear of the master. None found it strange that Lord Attenwood should not appear; he was strange and moody, and those who questioned him would do so at their peril. Those daring to go into the depths of the castle where he often spent much time would find a dull wooden door superimposed over the ornate one. Attenwood’s tomb was sealed for a week, perhaps more if they were lucky.

  Julian thought she would remember that journey down England in the icy weather and feel the cold even in the heat of summer. They rode fast and lightly, barely pausing to rest at night, sometimes exchanging horses and allowing Rob to do the bargaining, for he had the skill of it, changing clothes in the same way, then riding on to the next small village. They were comrades in a venture, bound in a friendship that might have seemed ridiculous only days before. Guy would tell the queen that he had delivered her messages, then been overcome with the fever and had lain insensible in a village for days. On his recovery he had hastened back for instructions. It was not hard to persuade him to do this, and Julian knew she had reason to be thankful that he was the caliber of man she believed him to be.

  To those met casually in the road, they said that they were men summoned by their lord to Dover, there to embark as part of the maintained army of Philip of Spain. They grumbled as such men might be expected to do in the various ale houses where they stopped, and learned over and over again the temper of the country which wanted nothing to do with either French or Spanish intervention. Often they drank to the expected heir, hearing that the queen was to deliver in March but many thought her truly addled in her wits. It was a revelation to Sir Guy, and the lines of his face grew deeper at the bitterness and downright hatred expressed. The name most frequently on the lips of those in the streets and taverns was that of the Princess Elizabeth, who was more and more the hope of England. “Anne Boleyn’s daughter!” Julian sniffed the words to herself as she remembered Mary Tudor’s very justifiable bitterness and early memories of Lady Gwendolyn, who had served the patient, wronged Katherine of Aragon. Still, the fires raged at the queen’s behest.

  Much of the time they exchanged jokes, snatches of songs, discussed the weather and hunting, anything but the struggle to come, as they plodded down the roads of iced muck. It was a time suspended for all that they listened eagerly to gossip and for alarms. In her warm, but very old, boy’s clothes and perched on a horse that had seen better days years ago, Julian experienced a lightness and sense of freedom such as she had never known. Often her voice rose high and cracked in the current war songs; the snickers of her comrades would make her turn and utter mock threats. They sang no better than she, and the verbal abuse was one way of sharing.

  They entered the city of London early one morning in mid-March, just another motley collection of men drifting about the capital, settling on the dirty, crowded streets, pausing to gape of whatever free entertainment in the way of processions, arrests, fights, floggings, or sport might be presented. They appeared to be three men wandering and looking, turning aside offers made in laughter from prostitutes, shoved aside by gentry, shunned by thieves who counted them as poor pickings. When they paused in the alley behind a small shop, a passer-by might have thought that they made plans to rob it.

  “Are you sure this is the place? It looks so tawdry!” Julian looked up at Sir Guy, who was already pulling out the richly furred cloak from the disreputable pack he carried.

  “I know him of old. He will do anything for money and jewels.” He gave her the cloak and watched her pull it up over her head. “Now the rings.” When she had slipped no less than six on her fingers and fastened a burst of diamonds to the inner collar of the cloak, he touched her face with a warm hand. “I must go and report to Her Majesty. God preserve us all. I shall return as soon as I can.

  Julian and Rob spoke as one to this man who was going against much that he believed in for the sake of the right. “God preserve you and keep you!” Then he was gone, sauntering along the street and scratching his head as he went, a bumpkin newly come to town.

  The master of the shop was small and skinny with watchful eyes; he was not one who had come by this discreet place with its excellent goods, quiet rooms off to the side, and servants who vanished at the wave of a hand. He eyed Rob with distaste and Julian with apprehension which changed to servile admiration as he assessed the jewels she wore and the bag of rubies tossed so casually before him in the little room to which he had reluctantly taken them.

  “I need gowns immediately! You have some on hand, of course? And I want a bath, too. You were recommended to me. I understand
that you deal in many things and have an eye for good business. Is that true?” She snapped the words at him and watched his eyes grow wide. “I have made a vow to the Blessed Mother and its fulfillment requires the greatest discretion. Well, shall I proceed?”

  He bowed so low that he bent nearly double. “I am the soul of silence and obedience. Am I permitted to know madam’s name that I may address her more correctly?” He peered at the tumbling hair and patrician face inside the hood and stared again at the rings. “I am your servant; my silence shall be as the grave.”

  Rob fixed him with a hard look. “If you boast of the strangers who have come to you this day, blood shall be your payment instead of rubies.”

  Julian lifted her head regally and studied the proprietor, who by now was cringing in earnest. “I think he can do as we require. They spoke of you, you know, in my father’s house. Yes, and I must not reveal his name but you shall know that he has the honor to wait daily upon the king!” She paused for effect and saw the goggling eyes flood with fear. “The king of Spain! Call me Madame Asterion.”

  “Tell me your wishes and they shall be obeyed instantly.” His voice had sunk to a whisper.

  How greatly was Philip of Spain feared! Julian waved her hand again to dazzle him with the rings and issued her commands. “I need a small house, discreetly located but central, servants who obey and do not chatter, a dressmaker who will come immediately, several guards to do my bidding, and some good horses. All this must be done within the day. If you cannot see to it, then I have wasted my time and will go to the next name on my list.”

  “No, no. All is in readiness for you here to make yourself prepared. Please, Madame Asterion.” The unfamiliar syllables twitched off his tongue, and he smiled hesitantly as she nodded her head.

  Julian ordered the gaping servant girl out of the little room set aside for her and then luxuriated in her first bath in weeks. Her hair was washed and rinsed, polished and dried by the fire, wound high in plaits and veiled in misty black gauze. She donned the gown and cloak, added more jewels to those already in evidence, and settled down to wait. The man could be counted on to gossip despite all her warnings, and this was as it must be. All her senses were sharpened; the scheme must succeed. Mad or sane, she would have Charles Varland if all the hoarded wealth of George Attenwood could deliver him to her.

  Time quivered as she thought again of that frantic period when they three pried jewels out of the little trees, caught up figurines of gold, ivory, and silver, dug into an ornamented chest and found necklaces, pendants, rings, and bracelets of such quality as any lord in the kingdom might envy. She took them without compunction, wondering how Attenwood had come by such trove. It had been Guy who found the rolled canvases hidden in a corner of the chamber, and that sight had been all the convincing he needed to be with Julian and Robert heart and mind and soul. Demons, monkeys, snakes, and monsters danced and sucked at women and children; beautiful boys watched and were themselves struck down, the marks of their blood in the paintings. One felt the leering face of the human monster to be very close. And yet he had presented such a facade of gentility to the world.

  There was a hammering at the door, then she heard Rob’s familiar voice. “Mistress, all is done as you demanded. Will it please you to leave this noisome place?” She rose, adjusted her veil, shook out the fashionable skirts, and sailed haughtily out to meet him.

  Later she sat with him over hot wine in the drawing room of the little house so swiftly obtained for her by whatever nefarious means, and they plotted in whispers. There were three maids, four guards, and a surly doorman, all probably found in the vast underworld of London and threatened with swift extinction if they did other than they were told. Rob had made the initial arrangements with the man, saying that wealth could buy anything and that he had lived in London long ago; it was all a matter of memory. Certainly the neat house with its own garden, servants’ quarters, three bedrooms, and separate private sitting rooms was a jewel in an avenue that was not at least respectable. To Julian it smacked of sudden eviction, but she found that she did not care.

  Now she said, “Surely Guy must return soon. He will obtain what information he can. I pray he is not suspected. We must act swiftly. Learn the location where Charles is held, his condition, and the best means of approach.”

  “If he is in his right mind, there is much we can do. If not, then I shall be forced to other means.” Rob had regained much of his roguish approach to life, and now he clawed about in the multiplicity of goods purchased that afternoon. “If you will forgive me, Julian, I will get to my preparations.”

  “Madame Asterion gives you permission.” She laughed and saw his face brighten.

  “A mysterious lady who has made a vow and desires to see the criminal Varland, for she knew him of old. A fair tale, lady, and a bold one. They will truly believe you to be of Spain.” He touched her shoulder and departed for his own special lair.

  Julian sighed and leaned back. It was hard getting used to being elegant after all the days of slouching comfort. She must not let her mind linger on what was to come, or she would run screaming with terror. Instead she would think of what she and Charles would do when they were safely in France and together. Marriage would not be necessary; they would both want to be free. She dreamed for a short few minutes of a gleaming future of love, of the time alone that they had never really had except in the ruined castle.

  It was very late when Sir Guy returned, walking boldly in the doorway, still dressed in his humble garb but unchallenged by the guards. Julian sprang up and took his arm. “Guy! You are safe! I feared for you. What news is there? What have you found out?”

  He sank down in the carved chair that she vacated and rested his head on his hands. “I listened only to the talk around the taverns near the court. More turmoil, more talk of rebellion, more burnings. No heir. News from Spain that even King Philip tries for moderation, but she is adamant. It is as if she wanted to destroy this country.”

  Julian wanted to cry out, but in the face of such bewilderment she could not. After all, he risked much to help her, and now the danger of being branded a traitor was even stronger than it had been. She poured out a drink of rich wine into a simple goblet, one which had come with the house, and set it near his hand.

  “Drink, it will ease you.” Would God she had something to ease herself!

  “Take comfort, Julian. Varland is held under heavy guard in a small separate house on what was once his estate on the Thames and now, of course, forfeit to the crown. This is by order of the king, and his own ambassador, De Feria, goes to see him regularly. The queen’s physicians check him, and it is said that when the child is born and she recovered, he will be executed, mad or not. Of the madness I could learn only that it is some sort of apathy, not violence. These things are common knowledge. I represented myself as straight in from the country and curious.”

  She knelt at his side and put both hands on his hard ones. “Is it so painful, Guy? If so, we will willingly absolve you of your oath.” How could they manage without him? Yet the offer must be made. “We will not plot against the true ruler.”

  “I know, Julian. We all do what we must. Now we must move with dispatch, for the child is expected daily. Let us lay our plans and be ready.” His eyes searched her face. "I cannot come here again lest I be followed; there is much suspicion these days, and no one is immune. I will keep you informed, however. There are many ways of sending messages if one is discreet and can pay.”

  “Guy, you risk so much and have been so unfailingly kind.”

  His hands clenched on hers as his voice dropped. "Kind? Yes, that is one word for it, Julian.” He became matter-of-fact at the question in her eyes. “I think it best that I be the one to make the arrangements for our escape from the city after the actual rescue of Varland. We must have fast horses and good disguises. It will take time. Where is Brother Rob? Fetch him and let us talk.”

  Julian knew then that Guy cared for her. Perhaps it was no
t yet love, but in time it might have flowered. He was a good and true man, a loyal friend, and she cared for him, but there was no room for anyone but Charles Varland in her heart. She looked up at him and saw the same earnest look that he always had. If only all went well for all of them! She rose to her feet and went in search of Rob, fear of the future burning in her.

  ✷ ✷ ✷

  Day slipped into day, and Julian chafed with the passage of each. They had done all they could, and the plans endlessly rehearsed for each contingency until she could think of them only as plays put on for amusement. She grew snappish, and the maids remarked to themselves that this was truly a mysterious great lady with all the arrogance of true royalty. This tale spread and greater deference was given to the inhabitants of the little house. Julian spoke often with the dressmaker, recommended for her discretion, and was indeed having several ravishing gowns made, but when the woman visited in all her plethora of materials and advice about the changing fashions, there were sturdy peasant clothes, ointments to stain the skin, and potions to alter the color of the hair. For the remainder of the time Julian walked in the tiny garden until it felt to her that she wore paths in the earth; each day she watched the skies grow less leaden, the air imperceptibly warmer. Any time now. Any time the world would alter, and she, Julian Redenter, would play the part of life and death.

  On the gray and cool evening that Brother Rob, clad in the nondescript black gown and cap he wore on his forays around the streets, came to her and said quite calmly, “I have seen him, and he appears quite physically healthy,” Julian watched him as through a dream. The reality had come at last.

  Rob was going on, “The guards grew used to me; as we planned, it was simple enough to have one more learned gentleman, a bit vague but interested in strange cases, arrive in the wake of the several physicians who have examined my lord. With the queen the way she is, there is more respect given toward all those who may taste power. One of the guards took me in, and I saw that he stares at the wall and did not even turn though we made noises and spoke quite loudly. I looked into his eyes and believe that he has quite retreated, although the examination was only cursory.”