Fugitive Countess

by Anne Herries

  ‘He deserves to die for what he has done.’

  ‘She loves him,’ Marietta said, and touched his arm. ‘Claudette bears his child—for her sake let him live.’

  Anton’s mouth was a hard line as he looked at her, then he inclined his head. ‘Very well.’ He turned to Miguel. ‘Take the Comtesse and ride for the coast at once. I shall join you as soon as my business is done here.’

  ‘You are not coming with us?’

  ‘I must have that ring.’ Anton did not smile as he glanced at Marietta. ‘You will be safe with my men. If I should not follow Miguel will take you back to Lady Claire.’

  Marietta looked for some sign of warmth in his face but found none. He had come for her, but it must have been at Lady Claire’s bidding or because the King had ordered it. For a moment she had thought he had sought her out because he loved her.

  She moved towards him urgently, laying a hand on his sleeve. ‘I beg you to take care, sir. I would not have you die in my cause.’

  ‘I am commanded to find that ring. You are merely delaying me. Please go with Miguel as I bid you.’

  She turned away, fighting her tears as she allowed Miguel to hurry her back down the stone steps of the tower. Near the bottom they heard the sound of voices, and Miguel pulled her back into the shadows until the men had passed.

  ‘There is a secret way beneath the outer walls,’ Miguel whispered. ‘Your servant is waiting in the stables to guide us through the passage. It is dark, and there are rats and cobwebs, but you must not scream lest someone hears. Remember, Anton is still in the castle.’

  ‘I shall not scream.’

  Marietta glanced at his face and saw a strange expression in his eyes. She sensed that he was hiding something, but could not tell what was in his mind. He had come with his friend to help rescue her, but he did not like her. He was hiding it, but she felt strong resentment, even hatred. Perhaps he thought her the witch she had been named?

  They slipped out of a side door and ran swiftly across the inner bailey. Reaching the solid stone block that was the stable, Marietta went inside, closely followed by Miguel.

  ‘Sandro?’ she called softly. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘God be praised, you are alive, my lady.’ The groom came towards her, looking beyond her to Miguel. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘Anton and Fitch follow,’ Miguel said. ‘We are to ride for the coast at once. Anton will do as he thinks best.’

  ‘Then I shall wait for him,’ Sandro said. ‘He may not be able to find the secret way without me. Take my lady to safety, and may God go with you, sir.’

  ‘If you wait for him then so do I,’ Marietta said in a determined tone.

  Miguel glared at her. ‘You must come with us. Anton ordered it, lady, and he will be angry if you disobey him.’

  ‘I shall not leave without him.’ Marietta set her face stubbornly. ‘Go on ahead and prepare the ship. I shall wait here with Sandro.’

  Miguel’s eyes narrowed. He looked furious but, seeing that her mind was set, he turned on his heel and left her with Sandro.

  Anton looked down at the Bastard as he lay snoring on his couch. He stank of stale sweat and wine, his hair was lank with grease. Had he been awake, it would have been a joy to kill him, but there was no honour in killing a helpless enemy. There would be a reckoning for the evil that this man had done, but not this night.

  ‘Here is the ring.’ Claudette took it from the chain the Bastard wore about his neck and brought it to him. ‘Take it and go quickly, but you must lock me in the tower room. I shall tell my lord that you overpowered me. It will be so much better than the story we planned, for he might not have believed that she could do it.’

  ‘Why should I believe you? You will raise the alarm as soon as we leave.’

  ‘You may tie me and gag me if you choose.’

  ‘It might be safer,’ Fitch said. ‘I will make her secure without hurting her.’

  Anton nodded his assent. ‘Come then, lady. We have no time to waste, for I would be on board my ship by the time the Bastard wakes…’

  Anton pocketed the ring. It was the twin to the one he had seen on the King’s finger.

  Wondering at the significance of the matching rings, Anton was thoughtful as he left the Bastard’s chamber. What was so important about a ring that the King of England needed it returned?

  Anton might never know, for he was bound to serve the King but not entitled to an answer. He must concentrate his thoughts on getting out of here alive!

  They had been lucky so far, but could be discovered at any moment. If the alarm were raised it would be almost impossible for two men to fight their way out of this castle. The Bastard of Rouen allowed his men to drink and neglect their duty, but if roused their numbers would be overwhelming.

  As they made their way back to the tower where Marietta had been imprisoned Anton heard the sound of raucous laughter coming from the hall. Twice he stopped, motioning to the others to keep back as he heard voices and someone approaching, but each time the men passed without noticing the figures in the shadows.

  They gained the tower room safely. Claudette was bound. Before the gag was placed about her mouth, Anton asked if there was anything she needed.

  ‘For your help this day, I would offer my protection in the future if it is asked.’

  ‘I need nothing from you, sir. Go on your way.’

  Bowing his head, Anton signalled that she should be gagged. When it was done they locked her in the room and threw the key into a corner. Let it be searched for!

  Running down the steps, they were soon outside in the night air. It was as they approached the stables that Anton heard raised voices. One was Sandro’s, the other unknown. As he hesitated, he heard a woman scream.

  Marietta! Why was she still here? Had they been caught? As Anton prepared for the worst, he heard a man speaking.

  ‘What are you doing here? Answer me or by God I’ll have your tongue—but not before my lord has his fun with you.’

  ‘Do your worst, scum,’ Sandro said defiantly. ‘Your master will burn in hell for his sins.’

  There was the sound of a struggle and a shout of pain. As Anton entered the stable he saw that one man held Sandro’s arms behind his back while another struck him about the face. Marietta was being held by a third man; there was no sign of Miguel or his other men. Anton nodded to Fitch and they moved as one. Fitch drove his dagger into the side of the man holding Sandro, just as Anton sprang at the man who had been hitting him, grabbing him by the throat and jerking his arm back until he gave a cry and fell senseless to the ground. Turning to look at Marietta, Anton saw the third man had a dagger at her throat.

  ‘Come any nearer and I will slit her throat,’ he warned.

  ‘If you spill one drop of her blood you are a dead man. Let her go and I shall spare you.’

  Anton advanced, sword at the ready. The man tightened his arm about Marietta’s waist, but she suddenly jerked back, then kicked his shin, and at the same moment shoved her elbow hard into his stomach. He gave a grunt and released his hold sufficiently for her to break free of his grasp. Anton grabbed her, thrusting her behind him. The man dropped to his knees, face pale as he begged for his life.

  ‘Spare me. I was simply obeying orders.’

  ‘Tie him up!’

  Fitch moved to obey instantly. The man made no attempt to resist as he was bound and gagged.

  Sandro was still on his knees, gasping. His nose was bleeding, and more blood ran from the side of his mouth.

  ‘Why are you both still here?’ Anton’s gaze went from Marietta to Sandro. ‘Where are Miguel and the others?’

  ‘Sandro stayed to make sure you found your way through the secret passages,’ Marietta answered him. ‘I stayed with him. I could not leave while—’

  ‘You foolish woman! When I give an order I expect to be obeyed! If I miss the tide I can look after myself until I find another ship. You will only hamper me!’

  ‘I beg you, do
not be angry with my lady,’ Sandro said. ‘It was my fault. If I had not waited she would have gone with the others.’

  ‘Are you able to walk?’ Anton’s attention returned to him. ‘You should have persuaded your lady to go with the others—but I know well she is wilful and heedless. I shall not blame you. We must leave at once, for I do not want to miss the tide.’

  Anton took hold of Marietta’s arm. His strong fingers bit into her flesh, his grip uncomfortable as he thrust her ahead of him into the tunnel. Her throat felt tight, and tears were very close, but she would not shed them. He was so angry with her! She was a burden to him that he would rather not have had, and his harsh words were like the lash of a whip, wounding her deeply.

  The journey through the tunnel was a nightmare for Marietta. There was an unpleasant smell, and cobwebs hung from the low ceiling brushing over her face and into her hair. She could hear rustling sounds, and sometimes the squeak of a bat, which made her want to scream, but she held her nerve, the nearness of Anton giving her courage to bear her ordeal.

  At last they were out into the open. She gulped the night air, breathing it in thankfully. One of Anton’s men had stayed behind to guard the horses. But there were only enough for the men, which meant that she was expected to ride with one of them.

  ‘Come, lady!’

  Anton held out his hand imperiously. She took it and he swung her up into the saddle, mounting behind her. Marietta shivered as his arms went about her and she felt his body at her back.

  ‘There is no need to be frightened now.’ Anton’s voice was softer. ‘We shall be safe once we reach the ship.’

  She could not answer him. Being so close to him made her feel safe, and yet she was aware that he was still angry with her despite his words of comfort. She had prayed that he would come to help her, and her prayers had been answered, but she knew that he had not come to Montcrief for her sake. Anton had come for the ring. Claire had asked him to bring her back and he had rescued her—but it was obvious that the ring was more important. She would be foolish to imagine that she meant more to him than duty.

  The wind stung her face, getting into her eyes. She wasn’t crying. It was just the wind. Anton would take her to his king and abandon her to her fate, whatever that might be. She had escaped the Bastard, but she would not escape the King’s justice.

  Marietta held herself proudly. It would be foolish to cry for a man who did not love her but she could not help herself. Despite his coldness, he had stirred something deep inside her.

  Dawn was breaking when Marietta first smelled the tang of the sea. They had begun the descent of a steep cliff to the secluded cove below. She could barely make out the shape of a ship anchored just off shore, waiting to take her to England. She felt no sense of joy. Anton had saved her from the Bastard’s spite but she still had to face the King of England’s justice.

  He cared nothing for her. Even if the King were merciful the years ahead held nothing for her above the pleasure of motherhood. Yet if she were spared to care for her beloved son she would count herself blessed.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she could see nothing but dark shapes and shadows, but knew that people would soon be stirring in the cottages they had passed as they rode. In another hour or so servants would be stirring in the castle. They would take Marietta food, believing her to be locked in the tower. When they discovered she had fled once more they would be frightened. Someone would have to wake the Bastard and tell him. No one would want to be the messenger, and that might give her more time.

  Marietta regretted that a servant might be made to pay for her escape. Claudette was sure she could placate him…and she planned to take Marietta’s place and wed him.

  God protect her! Marietta prayed that the Bastard would not make her suffer too much.

  Anton had dismounted. He offered his hand to help her down.

  ‘Praise God, we are in time. The ship has sent a boat for us. We must go aboard at once, for we leave with the tide.’

  ‘Yes…’

  His tone was so cold, his manner distant. He was still angry with her. She raised her head, holding the tears inside.

  The wind from the sea was cool. It whipped about Marietta, blowing her cloak and her hair. She shivered, but it was not so much the wind but her thoughts that had turned her blood to ice water.

  Marietta’s stomach turned as she felt his fingers grip her arm. He pushed her towards the water and she stumbled, almost falling. Sailors had got out of the rowing boat and were waiting to take their passengers on board.

  ‘You are tired,’ Anton said, and bent to sweep her up into his arms. He waded through the shallow water to where the boat waited.

  Marietta’s tears were very close. The softer note in his voice had almost broken her, and it was taking all her strength to keep from weeping.

  A sailor helped her into the boat. She murmured her thanks, staring back at the beach. The light was strengthening with every stroke of the oars but still there was no sign of pursuit. Claudette’s potion had worked well.

  Marietta climbed the rope ladder to the deck of the ship, Anton’s presence behind her giving her the strength to pull herself up. For a moment she stood facing the shore, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes, her cloak hugging her body. She felt so cold, so lonely and afraid.

  ‘You must go below,’ Anton told her. ‘You are exhausted. Rest, and we shall talk later.’

  Marietta inclined her head. As she moved away from him she saw Miguel watching her. For a moment his eyes held some smouldering emotion, and she knew that she had made him angry by insisting on waiting for Anton. She shivered, feeling cold, lonely and lost.

  Left alone in her cabin, Marietta lay on the hard cot, listening to the sound of the water lapping about the ship. The light from the small porthole was dim, and it seemed cold and dark, almost like a prison cell. Her skin was prickling with goosebumps. She might soon find herself incarcerated in the King of England’s prison.

  Marietta closed her eyes, forcing herself to rest. She was exhausted after the long ride, for she had hardly dared to sleep at the castle lest she was attacked. Her eyes flickered and closed as she drifted into a restless slumber, tossing and turning and crying out in her dream.

  Though she did not know it, her cheeks were wet with tears.

  ‘I thought you might miss the tide,’ Miguel said as the ship weighed anchor.

  ‘It was as well you waited until the last moment, for had we missed the tide I should have been hard pressed to protect the Comtesse until I could find another ship.’

  ‘She would insist on waiting with Sandro! I tried to force her to come with me but she is proud and wilful.’ Miguel’s gaze narrowed. ‘You should be careful of her, Anton. A woman like that is dangerous.’

  ‘Surely you do not believe these stories of witchcraft and murder? Proud and wilful she may be, but the rest is false.’

  ‘There is no smoke without fire…’

  ‘They are but foolish tales. Believe me, Marietta is no more a murderer than she is a witch. The murderer remains at Montcrief.’

  ‘You did not kill him?’

  ‘He lay in a drugged sleep. Had he been awake I should have found satisfaction in making him confess his guilt—but I had a more important mission.’

  ‘You found what you wanted?’

  ‘Yes.’ Anton was thoughtful. ‘Excuse me. I have something to do below. We shall talk more of this later.’

  He walked away, descending the iron ladder to the cabins below. Apart from the incident in the stables, and Marietta’s foolish decision to wait for him, everything had gone almost too well. Anton would have preferred a reckoning with the Bastard of Rouen, for he suspected that the man’s rage would know no bounds when he woke and discovered what had happened.

  He hesitated outside Marietta’s cabin. She had suffered badly on her last voyage to England, but there had been a terrible storm that night. This day there were good winds, but no huge waves to toss the ship from
side to side. Almost reluctantly, he opened the door and went into the cabin. He hesitated as he saw that she was sleeping.

  Her arm was thrown out, her hair spread on the pillows, but she was not peaceful. She was dreaming and it seemed her dream disturbed her.

  ‘Forgive me…I love you…’ Marietta cried, and moved restlessly. ‘Please do not hate me…I love you…’

  Anton frowned. Who was it that she called to in her dreams? Did she have a lover? Was she dreaming like this because she was guilty of some crime? His heart rejected the idea, though his mind told him that women could be faithless. He had believed that he loved Isabella but she had not returned his love. If the letter he had received were true, his wife had betrayed him with another man: the child she had carried when she died would not have had his blood. She had come to his bed that night so that he would not guess the truth. If Isabella could be so false, how could he trust any woman again?

  Anton approached the bed. Marietta looked so beautiful. Something inside him reached out to her, despite his resolve not to let her into his heart. He wanted to take her into his arms, to hold her close and kiss away her fears. The temptation to touch her was strong, but he resisted. He should let her sleep, because once they reached England he must take her to London. Anton wished that he could save her the ordeal of facing the King’s justice, but he had no choice in the matter. He had been ordered to bring her before the King and must obey. Only if she were cleared of this crime would she be free of the shadow that would otherwise follow her wherever she went.

  As he stood staring down at Marietta, her eyes opened.

  ‘What is it? Have we been followed?’ She pushed herself up against the hard pillows, her eyes wide with fear.

  ‘We are at sea. You are quite safe now.’

  ‘Are you still angry because I disobeyed you?’ Marietta’s voice caught with emotion. ‘I know you must think me foolish, but I could not leave while you were in danger for my sake.’

  ‘It was foolish, but I am no longer angry. If I spoke harshly it was for your sake, Marietta. Alone, I should have had little trouble finding a ship, but with you…some captains might have refused to take you. I am certain the first thing the Bastard will do would be to send out messengers offering a reward for your capture.’