Defiant Desire

by Anne Carsley

  “I will not think that! Such a mind as his does not fade away. It is time to act.” She spun around and looked squarely at him. “He could be pretending. Have we not heard that they would put him to torture if he were at himself?”

  “I do not think any man, not even the incomparable Varland, could be in such control of himself.” Rob spoke wryly. The tension was telling on them all. “Still, it is a possibility. I will speak of my discoveries on the morrow and the learned dissertation I mean to present to the king of Spain, who is rumored coming to be here, for the birth. Our second plan will have to be the one, Julian. We have feared that all along.”

  “I will be ready.” Now that matters were moving along, she felt the sick anxiety leave her and the determination well up. If they failed all would die, but that was a thing they had long ago faced. Her brief thought went to Charles’s rescue of her from the Tower and the manner in which he had decried it. A life for a life, a love for a love.

  “The madwoman thinks she is in labor, and all the physicians have been summoned! The court is in an uproar.” The network of beggars, thieves, and prostitutes whose services George Attenwood’s wealth had brought into play now delivered the latest news into the attentive ears of Brother Rob in the early hours of the morning. “Plans and counterplans are being made, secret messages go to the king, the Princess Elizabeth, and to France. There is bickering and dissent, every man’s hand poised against the other.” As he spoke to Julian he watched her great eyes bloom to life.

  “Madame Asterion and her entourage go forth this day. The old woman is fully willing and knows what is to be done?”

  “Three of the choicest rubies are being held for her in addition to the pearls she has already received.” Rob was as excited as she and the weight of the adventure began to bear down. “Guy has made arrangements at the inn near the gate.”

  The litter which swayed through the crowded, smelly streets an hour later was an undistinguished one that drew no comment. Two guards, Brother Rob, a shrouded maidservant whose shuffle indicated age, and a sprightly younger one made up the party. Julian sat inside, wearing her voluminous black silk gown and a coif in the old Spanish mode which left only a few strands of midnight hair revealed. Black gloves concealed her hands, but the sparkle of diamonds showed at throat and wrists. Her dark brows were drawn emphatically above her eyes, and her normally pink mouth was painted into a narrow line that added years to her age. A heavy veil swathed her face, and a shining necklace of diamonds and rubies hung over her bosom. She called out to the bearers that they must hurry, testing the voice of middle-age and pleased to find that it sounded both haughty and emphatic.

  Be with me, god of battles. The words hammered over and over in her brain. Let us win the day.

  After what seemed an endless journey, the litter halted abruptly, and she heard the sounds of whispered conversation, then an angry expostulation and a curse all the more pithy for being in Spanish. An English voice snapped, “I never said any such thing. You know I didn’t!”

  The curse came again and that was Julian’s cue. She parted the curtains and leaned forward, staring straight into the beefy, obdurate face that turned to hers. The expression of fright on Brother Rob’s face would have been comical in any other circumstances.

  “What is this? I was promised entrance with this man who investigates the illness of one of these English criminals. Why do you delay us? I am Madame Asterion of Madrid.” She let her imperious gaze turn to Rob. “Have you explained just who I am?”

  The other guard came up to his fellow, they gaped at her diamonds and at her autocratic face twisted with the royal anger, and backed away. She said savagely, “The king shall hear of this when he arrives. Take me back!”

  The older of the two said, “A mistake has been made, of course. Let them pass. Your pardon, my lady.”

  “About time!” Julian slapped the curtains together and leaned back, both hands pressed to her mouth as the litter swayed past the high walls and into the prison of Charles Varland.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The litter halted before a separate area sheltered by trees now bare against the chill sky, and Julian was helped out by one of the guards who paced before this stone house that might have been the remains of a Saxon fort so old did it seem. Rob went before her, the old woman they had hired shuffled in the back, white hair hanging out of the hood, and the watching guards stared at the regal woman whose voice had been heard complaining even before she came into view. She did it now. “A fascinating experiment to tell the king, you said! In this primitive waste! I am bored already! I warn you, this had best not take long!”

  “Lady, lady, I assure you . . . did I not say all England was a penance? But you had to come!” Rob half turned on her with the air of a man who has borne enough.

  “Silence!” She swept on and was gratified to see some of the guards who seemed to be posted at every turn grow relaxed and even wink at each other.

  One final guard stood before a bolted door. He took his time regarding them, even to the old woman, whom Rob mentioned tersely as “my talisman and necessary,” then he waved them in, and the bolts slammed shut.

  Julian stood in the half darkness of one room for a second before moving into a wider bedroom with iron, bars set closely over the small window. It was lighter here, and she could see the river in the distance. The man on the bed lay with arms crossed over his chest in the manner of dead crusaders, his carved profile very clear, the high cheekbones perfectly modeled, his black brows still winged. His face was smooth and calm. He blinked and breathed, but his long body in the loose brown robe of a mendicant monk was quiet.

  Julian stood over him and looked for what seemed an eternity before Rob came up with a tiny vial in his hand. He knelt beside Charles and lifted up one hand, which fell back flaccid. The gray eyes still watched the ceiling. He called to the old woman, “Chant something out of your youth, mutter, mumble, but keep it up.”

  “Aye, master.” She must have been eighty, but her voice was shrill and high with an ominous note to it and enough vigor for two others.

  “This will revive him no matter what gray world he wanders in. I have seen this work every time on the mad. If only there were time enough to make it such as I have had. He may not understand, but he will obey.” Rob was smiling, eager to begin his work.

  “Wait.” Julian sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her coif back a little, thrusting the veil to one side. Then she laid her lips on Charles’s and almost jerked back, for they were warm and living. The unmoving gray eyes that looked into hers were those of the man she loved, alive and aware, comprehending. The tiny pulse began to beat in his temple as it had always done in times of stress for him. She lifted her mouth and said, “It is all right. We have come to rescue you. It is not a trick. I am Julian, and these are friends who will help.”

  “He does not know. . . .” Rob’s mouth fell open, and he stared at Charles Varland, who was pulling himself up on the bed with one hand and clasping Julian’s radiant face with the other.

  Charles spoke rustily. “A long pretense. How can you hope to free me? It cannot be done.”

  “It can and will, but you must trust us utterly.” Rob recovered his wits and put away the vial a bit regretfully. “First, sir, have you been in possession of your wits all these months that you have been imprisoned? No lapses?”

  Julian put her arms around Charles, and he returned the embrace with a hunger that shook them both. He said. “No lapses, although they tried. I learned the art long ago of retreating into myself and even knew an old scholar once who said the mind could quite leave the body. It was invaluable to me here.”

  “I must ask you to give your mind into my keeping, Lord Varland, and yield yourself up to me so that your body will be malleable and you can walk out of here as yon old woman.” Rob jerked his head at Martha, who had thrown herself into the task of chanting with great determination. One would have thought that an entire coven was practicing. “I have stu
died much of the hypnotic art during my travels. Trust me.”

  “It is impossible. You will all be caught.” Charles tried to smile and could not. His face set in harsh lines. “Julian, you know what fate is set for you. Please go.”

  Julian put both hands on his and let the strength of her will go to battle his. “We have planned and risked all on this venture, Charles. You must do what Rob says, what I say, else all is in vain, and you will be the cause for our failure. Obey, Charles, for all our sakes.”

  Their eyes locked, and the old arrogance leaped up. Then Charles said, “I yield to you all. Do as you think best.” Only Julian could know what that statement cost the proud man she loved.

  “Watch this, my lord, and let yourself go into the red depths. Drift there and know that when you return you will be free and with Julian.” Rob swung the great ruby with the tiny curved moon in it back and forth in front of Charles, who allowed his gaze to be impaled on it. Old Martha slipped into a lower key of chanting that seemed to draw the senses upward and out.

  Julian took his hand again and treasured the alacrity with which it closed around hers. The movement of the ruby lured her own eyes, and she forced herself to look at the drab surroundings, the dark low ceiling, and lack of any comforts. He had had his own version of the Tower.

  “Drift, drift. It is warm and summery here. Go with it and rest, the first good rest you have had in a long time. When you wake you will see her face, but now drift.” Rob sounded the litany over and over, his voice low, soothing.

  How long had they been here? What if the bribes given did not satisfy all those involved or were compared? Panic clawed upward in Julian, but she forced it back. At any moment they might all be arrested, but she must think of nothing but the way his hand was growing limp in her own, the gray eyes distant and closing, his features softer.

  “You are very old and tired. Your name is Martha, and you have worked all your life. Borne children, many of them. You are going home to rest, and you want to get there as quickly as possible, but your feet, all your flesh, hurts. You are waiting on Madame Asterion and do her bidding.”

  Charles slumped over and rubbed his knee, twisted a piece of hair, and reached out for the comfort of a fire. Then he sat in the bent position of the old and worn, sighing as he did so. Julian had known he would do this, yet for all the times they had rehearsed it, she felt the shiver as if demonic power sat within the shell of Brother Rob.

  He put out a hand, and Martha grew silent as she jerked out the stitched clumps of white hair that had been fastened to her scrawny neck. The draggled gray gown followed, and the deep hem of her old cloak was loosed. Julian took them and put swift fingers on the robe Charles wore, he standing obediently as she nudged him. He fell again in the pose of the weary old woman even as Martha stood. He wore only a brief shirt of torn linen under the robe that she tossed to Martha, but she was thankful that it had a hood so his face could be covered. Had he ever used it of his own volition, or had he endured the stares and thrusts of the state physicians?

  Rob was speaking to Martha, his voice urgent and provocative as he swung the jewel. “Follow it and think of the riches you will have. All that you can do. When you wake you will remember nothing of us, nothing of how you came here. Rest.” She seemed to grow taller and straighter as he talked. Some of the lines on her face smoothed out, and her shoulders went back. From a bent crone’s cautious movements there came the motion of a vigorous person a third her age. She put on the robe Charles had discarded and lay down in his posture. “Turn on your side and pull up the hood. Stretch out. You will sleep for many hours and will remember nothing.”

  Julian watched her obey and went to pull the covers high. From her own cloak she took some of the silky hair that was close to Charles’s color and fitted it over the still head. Already the old woman’s flesh was flaccid and relaxed. It would be hard to fool a watchful gaurd, but this, too, was part of their plan.

  Now they stood ready. Charles was enveloped in the cloak and hood, stooped and bent, hands hidden in the folds of his garments, white hair hanging out. Julian caught her breath and said, “I shall be even more imperious and annoyed with the explanations you feel constrained to give.”

  Rob smiled at her. “We physicians are a wordy lot. I thank God that I had reason to remember all those arcane studies long ago.”

  Julian lifted her gloved hand and hammered impatiently on the door to the first room they had entered. Fear gave its power, and she gave it a kick just as the guard swung the heavy thing outward. She connected with his shin, and her eyes glittered into his. Immediately she raised her voice in the harridan complaint.

  “Take forever to come and keep me, me, waiting! A good dose of the lash is what these people need. In Spain we know how to deal with such matters! Furthermore, I have been bored for those hours in there. All the stupid man did was mutter. Come on. Sir Physician, this instant!” The guard drew back, but he was alert and so was the one who joined him. He said, “The prisoner spoke to you? What did he say?”

  Julian drew herself up haughtily. “Why are you questioning me? I do not care about louts who mumble. I can certainly say that I have nothing exciting to tell my king, my kinsman, who is going to be just as bored with this silly land as I am.”

  Rob spoke to the older guard, who had now summoned two others. Julian missed his first words as she stared hard at the waiting litter. Nothing had altered; bearers, their own men, and her young maidservant waited as they had been left. She stamped one foot, but the presumed old woman stood without moving beside Rob, just as old Martha had done on their entrance.

  “. . . too early to tell, of course, but he is definitely returning to this world. He seems to think he is still in a battle, calling for weapons and comrades. Now he sleeps naturally instead of that dead stare. Let him do so, and I will return on the morrow. He will regard me as a friend, and that will be useful in future.”

  “A miracle of God!” The older guard spoke the words devoutly. “The great ones will be pleased.”

  Rob rubbed his chin reflectively. They might have had all the time in the world to stand here in the damp wind and discuss treatment. Julian glared at him, a feeling manifested not only by the role she played. He ignored her and began his discourse. “Severely wounded, naturally, and roughly handled thereafter. Now, miracles are direct acts of God, but we know that he works through men as well, and I have been greatly privileged to study in the great universities of Spain. . . He wound on and on, sometimes in Latin and what might have been Arabic or Hebrew for all they knew.

  Julian called to the young maidservant, her voice sharp, and the girl came running to assist her mistress toward the litter. “Hurry, Martha, I must sit. I do not know about you, priest, but I am leaving.” She stalked to the litter, her back stiff, and hoped that Rob would follow.

  She heard him say, “At seven then. Be sure to let him rest.”

  “But the Lord Ortega comes soon to view him.” The younger guard was agitated. “Our orders were specific. He cannot be turned away.”

  Julian literally felt her blood freeze in her veins. She had thought him in Spain. She dared not respond to the name or show any emotion. Even the hauteur of a noble lady had been exhausted beyond the point of believability. Ortega might be on his way here now, and if one tenth of what Attenwood had told her was the truth, he would have a score to settle with Julian Redenter. They had bribed these guards within limits, but treason was another matter to the common man.

  Rob said, “A thousand pardons, madam. I have subjected you to much this day. I am coming just now.” Then he called to the guards, “The Lord Ortega will wish his recovery as much as we. Hint that he is better and speak of the morrow. I think he will wait.”

  Julian looked back at them then and saw that they hesitated. Another moment and her party would be held for the inspection of others and that would be fatal. Madame Asterion had had enough. “Raise the litter. I go. Martha, you and Alice come immediately.”

&n
bsp; The stern voice swept uncertainty away. The litter was lifted, and the small entourage moved toward the gate. Julian held the curtains back, thinking correctly that her veiled face and sharp eyes would quell any hesitancy. The guard opened it and waved them through into the street. She heard the bolts fall behind them as they went into freedom.

  The street was crowded with people rushing about, and few took any notice of the litter that now sped along. Rob wore his hood and had brushed back the white hair from Charles’s forehead. They were simply a party of the merchant class out to shop in the early morning. When they turned the corner away from the Thames and toward the narrower streets that could lose them in the city proper, Julian breathed a heavy sigh. It came too soon, for a blare of trumpets rang out close by, and the heavily accented words broke into her mind that tried to shut them out.

  “Make way for Alphonso Diego Ortega, representative of the King’s Majesty! Make way! Make way!”

  She risked a look. It was true, for a small troop of horses was moving toward the area from which they had just come. The red and gold and black of their colors gave light to the gray day. People were scattering, some beginning to jeer at the foot soldiers while others stood, in clumps, their faces sour. Mud spattered the brilliant coat of the herald who walked in front, and a young boy darted into the assembling crowd which now began to laugh.

  “Turn into yonder street, then leave the litter and go. You know nothing.” Julian gave the order and was instantly obeyed. The pushing people stood away, but some curious glances did follow them, and she knew that they would remember. Whether they answered the soldiers of Spain was something else, but the risk could not be taken.