A Flame Run Wild

by Christine Monson

  One by one, Alexandre laid the fragments in her palm. "Enough evidence to suit Philip . . . and all the proof you are ever likely to have that they killed Diego."

  As the fragments piled, so did realization gather in her mind. "You let Louis have a solid blow at you!" Fury and concern welled in her. "Mother of God, are you mad to bait him so? You may be killed next time!" Her voice lowered urgently. "Louis saw what the squire collected. He and Jacques do not dare let you live long enough to show it to Philip."

  "So they will try again soon. Good." Alexandre settled back on his pallet. "If they are in a hurry, they will risk mistakes." With a strength surprising in a wounded man, he caught her wrist. "You made one today by putting yourself on public display with Jacques. If I should meet with a nasty end, you will be suspected of helping him arrange my death."

  "I already have a black reputation. . . ."

  "Enough to be caught in the middle of your own schemes. If I die, Philip will demand your head along with those of your relatives." His grip tightened painfully. "Stay away from them!"

  "Is that a command?"

  "Yes, the one I said I would never give you."

  "I am not your vassal, Alexandre, but your wife," she reminded him quietly. "A free soul."

  "I could lock you up again," he breathed huskily.

  "You will not. Now please let me go; you are hurting me."

  Alexandre released her. His squire invited Lords de Cortillon and de Gribes in as witnesses to view the evidence of the clay lance cap. And Liliane went out to Jacques.

  Jacques and his party were waiting outside their pavilion as she approached them. "May we hope that^ Milord de Brueil's injuries are not serious?" Jacques said solicitously.

  Liliane studied Louis. "Milord de Brueil will live to grow old. You were overeager, Cousin."

  As Louis started forward, Jacques rose quickly from his chair. "No, Louis! Milady is overwrought. Any assistance we may give . . ."

  "None is presently required, thank you, Uncle." Her eyes locked with his. "Another time, perhaps."

  "Yes, of course," he murmured. "I shall inquire again within the week."

  "For a patient man, you were never given to delay, Uncle. Au revoir. Louis ..." Liliane dropped a deep, mocking curtsy and left them staring at her back.

  She had no choice now. She had to deal with Jacques, just as be had to chance her willingness to betray Alexandre. Alexandre had forced both their hands.

  * * *

  The morning after their party returned from the tourney, Liliane met early with Charles for a ride. "I have to move now," she told him. "We have talked privately in these past weeks of i this possibility. Do I have your support?"

  "The tourney does speed things," he agreed grimly. "Aye, I will help and so will my guardsmen. I just wish we had a way to snare Jacques, as well."

  "If we yank enough fangs from his jaw, he will have to back off, at least long enough for Philip to finish the kill. Jacques will probably make a run for Italy. He should be satisfied with poaching upon the pope. Clement cannot abide Philip, as he minks a united France cannot but feed upon Italy."

  She led Charles directly to the blasted oak and let Kiki fetch the tube. This time her note was gone and in its place was a scrap of parchment which said simply, "Name the time and place."

  She wrote a note and showed it to Charles. "This Sabbath dawn. The postern passage under the south wall. Dress as Italian mercenaries." Below the writing, she added a tiny map.

  Charles studied it with a small smile. "You did more than go over the wall last year. That postern gate and tunnel system must have taken you some time to explore.''

  She laughed dryly. "I did not find the entrance from the old tower passage for a whole year. I seem to have a certain affinity for tunnels, perhaps due to a legacy from my scuttling relatives. Blood tells, they say."

  Charles studied her speculatively. "I hope not; otherwise, I am betraying the best man I have ever known.''

  "You will not be sorry, Charles."

  He said nothing, but when they passed the castle on the way to the shore and saw Alexandre watching them from the tower window, she knew that Charles was already sorry.

  * * *

  The cleric, Antoine Fremier, swore moodily as he peered up into sunlight rising through the branches of the oak. He was becoming too plump to climb trees at his age. He scrambled up to the hole where the message cylinder was hidden and pried it open. As he surveyed the parchment inside, hue sulky frown became a calculating smile. Finally he had the weapon for which he had been waiting so long and patiently.

  Baron de Signe had nearly had him killed when his niece had informed him of the altered notes. Fremier had narrowly escaped with the desperate rebuttal that Liliane was lying to see if Jacques had set a spy on her. Despite Louis's prods with a heated iron to his ribs, Fremier doggedly kept to his story. At length, either believing him or not wanting to risk suspicion at having a new face in Alexandre's household, Jacques had sent him back to Castle de Brueil. Every time Fremier salved his burns, he anticipated the day he would be recompensed for them.

  He tugged out a new bit of parchment from his waist pouch and rewrote the note. He carefully folded the original and tucked it into his pocket.

  * * *

  Alexandre suspected that Liliane was contriving some plan when she was so long gone riding with Charles. He could question them until kingdom come without their telling him what they meant to do. He could imprison them in the dungeon, but Liliane had been right; he would not go so far. He could either have them spied upon,-which turned his stomach, or he could beat them at their game by moving first. Whatever her intentions, Liliane had turned them all into antagonists, and he was odd man out while she allied with Charles.

  Charles had fallen in love with her; could she not see it? Or did she not care? Alexandre rubbed his brow. His head was beginning to ache as it had when she had been ill in Acre. They had so nearly lost each other. . . .

  His hand stopped. Perhaps they had lost each other. Perhaps something subtly vital to their love had died, only he had been too relieved and happy to be aware of it.

  Once the phantoms of doubt began, they multiplied, although he tried to banish them. Liliane was not the daring, reckless young bride he had first known; she was quieter now, older. If she had been calculating before, she was better at it now, with implacable determination. War had changed her, he had changed her. He had deserted her once; had she ever really forgiven him at heart? In his arms, she was more passionate than ever, but was she lying to herself, lying to him? Was she turning to Charles for that something that he could not give her? After all, she had not wanted to marry him in the first place; duty had bound her to him and might be keeping her with him now. She carried his child; that would be enough to chain her to him.

  Alexandre turned his mind to the nagging ache of his wounded shoulder to distract himself from his mounting doubts, but they danced about him like relentless imps. She loves me! he wanted to shout. She is only concerned for my safety and the preservation of our people! She cares nothing for Charles but as a friend. But Alexandre was no longer sure. If she wishes to be free of me, he vowed grimly, I will neither hold her nor let her risk her future by meddling with her uncle to protect me.

  He called the head guard to the tower chamber. "What do you know of your captain's plotting with milady against Baron de Signe?" he asked bluntly. "Is anyone else involved?"

  The man gave him a blank look. "I know nothing of any plot, milord."

  Although he was certain the man was lying, Alexandre let him go without reprimand. Liliane had made his men-at-arms her partisans. He wished he had his hands about her adorable neck.

  He rose from his chair, donned his riding clothes and strung his crossbow over his good shoulder. He went down to the guardroom and summoned twenty men to arm themselves. The lieutenant hurried after him as he went to have his own destrier saddled. "My lord, where shall I tell Captain Charles you have gone?"

&
nbsp; "Hunting." He left the lieutenant staring after him.

  Alexandre and his men were gone by the time Liliane and Charles returned from their ride. "Milord knows we're up to something behind his back," the head guard quietly informed Charles and Liliane as they dismounted. "He took out a third of the men, armed like boars and not hunting as he said. He is not likely to use a crossbow on deer."

  "He is trying to draw Louis out before we do," Liliane said worriedly. "Do you think Louis will be on the prowl in the forest if he believes he has certain access to the castle?"

  "I do not know," replied Charles, "but if he does not see milord out baiting him as usual, he will suspect a trick. We will just have to sit tight until Sunday dawn."

  And so they did, but without Alexandre's company. When two days passed without his return, Liliane frantically sent out his squire to look for him. "Milord is well enough," the boy reported upon his return, "and sends his greetings. The hunt occupies him very well, but he has seen no game, I think."

  "No sign of Louis, eh?" mused Charles.

  Liliane was not listening. "Greetings! Is that all he sends?" she railed. "Not a single word of affection? Does he not know that what I do, I do for him?"

  Charles sent the squire away, then turned to Liliane. "Can you really blame Alexandre for resenting your interference?" he asked quietly.

  Her hands knotted together as she paced the hall. "No . . . no, I cannot blame him. He is right to be furious. ..."

  Charles followed her. "Do not blame yourself. You can follow no other course than you have done, if your uncle's power is to be destroyed. He must commit a large force to our trap on our terms, at our time. You were the only one who could have achieved that. Alexandre is concerned for your safety, yes, but I think he is also concerned that you and I grow too close in this endeavor.''

  "But he knows I love him! Why should he be jealous?"

  Charles gazed at her spill of shimmering hair, her flushed cheeks, her eyes bright and wide with surprised indignation. "Because he has reason to be jealous, milady. If you were not married and I were landed, I would pay you suit." He laughed briefly at her dumbfounded look. "Of course, you would pay me no attention, as you have paid my mooning no heed these last weeks, for I doubt if Dame Fortune would be so generous as to erase Alexandre's claim to your heart." His amused look turned wistful. "Alas, he has it all and I am too late. He knows me better than you do and sees my disappointment."

  "Charles," she whispered, "I am sorry. I never meant . . ."

  He shook his head. "You never knew, but do not fear; I love Alexandre, too. When this business is done with your uncle, I shall leave Provence."

  Liliane went to him. "Charles, do not. It is not necessary now. This is your home."

  "Nay, that it has never been, for all your husband's kindness.

  " 'Tis time I sought my own way, my own place. I am no farmer, milady . . . and less a poacher."

  A mischievous glint had entered Charles's eyes, and Liliane suddenly wondered how much he had guessed of her and Alexandre's meeting prior to their wedding. She had no time to pick his brains for he kissed her hand and headed from the hall. "Forgive me, milady, but I must see to the postern gate lest your cousin find it plugged. A pity that we cannot allow him to drown in Brueil muck."

  Why do I have the horrible feeling that we are all drowning? she wondered.

  * * *

  Two hours before the dawn of the Signes' expected attack, Charles led his men down into the tunnel to wait. When they were stationed on both sides of the corridor where it divided, he led another group out to wait in the copse of trees a few hundred yards from the nearly hidden gate. Once Louis's force entered the tunnel, Charles's men would close it behind them so, they could not retreat.

  As Charles entered the trees, he could see Liliane on the south tower, her silhouette faintly outlined in the fading moonlight. She was taking .a great risk in pulling the border sentries back and luring Louis to Castle de Brueil—if she had miscalculated, they could all die for it, and she Would die the most, horribly. Louis had a vengeful nature.

  When he was well within the trees, he motioned his men to lie low among the leaves and brush in case Louis used the copse for concealment. Burrowing down, they waited.

  In less than a half hour, a few wraithlike horsemen threaded through the copse. Pikemen darted behind them. Bringing up the rear were men with drawn swords. Flattened in the leaves, Charles recognized Louis as he passed, advancing through the darkness toward the postern. Charles held his breath, waiting for one of the enemy to stumble over a hidden man, but no cry of either warning or struggle stirred the misty silence. Perhaps fifty yards from the postern, Louis halted, waiting for his men to regroup behind him. They moved forward, then at the last moment half of them veered away to continue toward the east side of the castle. "Where the hell are they going?" whispered a yeoman a few feet from Charles's elbow.

  Feeling sweat break out on his spine, Charles peered tensely at the waning shadows of Louis's troop. The rest of his men waited outside the postern. "The old tunnel . . . Good God, they're going for the wrong one!"

  "They seem to know what they're about," the yeoman hissed. "No shuffling there. Looks like somebody directed them to the old tunnel."

  "Well, that someone was not the Lady Liliane, if that is what you're hinting," snapped Charles. He jumped to his feet and softly blew the reed whistle that hung about his neck. The quail call trilled through the copse. In moments, twelve men were about him. "Come on, lads. We must warn those poor devils in the tunnel that the quarry's gone down the wrong hole!"

  * * *

  Within the cistern, the men lying in wait to ambush Louis were growing impatient and wondering how long he was going to wait. The night was nearly gone, the dawn's first dull light penetrating the tunnel opening. In a quarter of an hour, Louis would be unable to approach the castle without being seen.

  Suddenly they saw him behind them, a mass of men bristling with pikes at his back, blocking their way back into the castle. In front of them, the tunnel opening's first dim light blacked out. Night had again come upon them.

  A moment later, Charles and his men surged upon the enemy at the tunnel mouth; all silence ended and the slaughter began.

  From the rampart, Liliane saw the flash of blades pick up the faint light in the mist and realized what had happened. Having ducked down behind the wail to keep from alerting Louis's stealthy band, she had not seen them split until too late. Now the mass of the castle defenders-were trapped as she had meant to trap Louis. White-faced, she motioned swiftly to the guards on the wall. "Quickly, go down and get behind Louis in the old tunnel to relieve our men!"

  To her dismay, they backed away. "You betrayed us, you Judas witch!" They broke and ran down the stone stairs to crank open the drawbridge and escape. The guards on the other walls joined them within minutes.

  "Come back!" Liliane cried desperately. "You are wrong! Come back!"

  Her pleas were useless, barely audible over the rising noise. She turned to grip the rampart wall. Below, five men were running hard from the castle: the last of her reserve men and Charles were being chased by Signe bowmen. A rain of arrows pursued their retreat, and before the men reached the copse of trees that had once been their haven, three of them were dead. The bowman entered the copse, and scant minutes later, a lone horseman burst from the far trees and galloped for the north.

  Charles, Liliane realized with a wild surge of hope. Charles has gotten away to warn Alexandre! And to tell him I have given his castle and retainers into the hands of his enemies ... to tell him that I have betrayed him. . . .

  Chapter 16

  ~

  Cat and Mouse

  Castle de Brueil

  That same morning

  Her face composed, Liliane was waiting alone in the great hall when Louis and his guards burst through its doors. Her hands locked on her chair arms, but she did not rise. As he advanced with sword drawn, her heart pounded in her breast. He want
ed to kill her, and if Jacques had given him orders to do so, she had only seconds left to live. "Well," she said coolly, "we have been successful. I shall be leaving for Spain today."

  His eyes mocking, Louis bowed. "Our uncle requests that you wait until Count Alexandre has been captured. He also wishes you to be present for the ceremonies that transfer the Brueil demesne to his possession. He has pressing affairs at the moment, but he should arrive in a few days. Surely you can use that time to pack your belongings."

  Liliane rose. If Louis could pretend to be uncaring, she would assume the same tone. As she was obviously his prisoner, pressing to leave would be pointless and only arouse suspicion. "Why not? A few days will not matter." She started to descend the dais, expecting at each step to be run through.

  Louis waved her to halt. "Please, resume your place; it suits you so. Why, every time I think of you, Cousin, it is upon a fine chair above my head . . . just as you were in Spain. You were so remote and detached, you seemed untouchable, just as you do now."

  "Louis," she replied flatly, "I do not like you and I have more profitable things to do than bandy conversation."

  "Then you will agree that it will be profitable to us both to see that our victory is accepted quietly by your husband's castellans." He waved to a guard, and the man went to open the hall's great wooden doors. With a rank of Signe guards on either side of them, a line of battered prisoners filed into the room.

  Liliane was vastly relieved to see so many of her people alive, She had so long thought of them as hers, but now they stared at her with disillusionment and hatred. These men had believed in her, fought for her and Alexandre; now they despised her as a traitor just as Alexandre would do. She forced her expression to remain impassive as she resumed her chair.