Lord Of Danger

by Stuart, Anne

  “I gather Lady Alys was torn from her dying mother’s arms and locked in a convent for the next sixteen years of her life. It hardly seems that attractive a prospect.”

  Richard didn’t even ask him how he knew of Alys’s past “It just goes to show how little you know of life, Grendel,” he said, as he dropped the herb-soaked cloth to expose his mauled cheek. Lady Claire had done a thorough job. “Claire’s mother got rid of her infant, knowing she’d be well-provided for, and then went on with her life of frivolity. It isn’t to be wondered that she lied.”

  “Where is she now? If you have real doubts you might ask her—”

  “She’s dead these ten years past Died of a pox, I suppose, though I don’t really know. Nor care.”

  “Brother Jerome is concerned.”

  “Brother Jerome’s always concerned,” Richard said in a peevish voice. “He should know well enough to leave me be. He’s to look out for the women—they’re the sort that need his infernal interference. Not me.”

  “I believe that’s exactly what he is doing,” Simon said blandly. “He is concerned for your sisters.”

  “She’s not…”

  “She is, my lord,” Simon broke in with steely firmness. “One has only to look at the two of you side by side to recognize it. Only blood kin could have such similar beauty.” He wasn’t averse to outrageous flattery if it served his purpose, and Richard was vain enough to swallow it whole. “I know not what evil demon made you think she was anything other than your sister, but that wicked suggestion has not served you well.”

  Richard would need a scapegoat, as Simon well knew. He could only hope that onus wouldn’t fall upon some poor innocent who would undoubtedly be put to death in order to assuage Richard’s conscience, or at least his reputation, but that was the very least of his worries. Life was hard, and death was always close at hand.

  “Demon,” Richard muttered. “You say it truly, Grendel. It was the work of Satan and his helpers, of that there is no doubt. I will think hard on it, and see if I can remember who first suggested such a thing.”

  He would think hard on it, all right, and decide which of his household was the most inconvenient. If he had a score to settle, an old injury to soothe, it would be dealt with quite handily.

  Simon glanced over at Hedwiga’s bowed head, her pursed lips and wattled chin all that showed in her averted profile. Richard would have given anything to rid himself of his lady wife, but her family were too wealthy and powerful for him to get away with it. He was stuck with her, a barren, carping creature, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Simon didn’t even pause to consider why he should exert himself to rescue the beauteous Claire. He disliked thinking that he had a sentimental streak in his body, and he considered Lady Claire to be a spoiled creature of far less interest than her older sister.

  But he had a… passing fondness for Lady Alys, and Alys wished her sister protected. Which was reason enough, Simon supposed.

  “It’s a fortunate thing that Thomas du Rhaymer came in search of his charge,” he continued. “He saved you from committing a very great sin.”

  Lady Hedwiga’s head jerked slightly, but she didn’t turn or otherwise betray that she was listening.

  “Sod him,” Richard muttered with real invective. And then he laughed. “Aye, Saint Thomas will meet his reward in heaven, no doubt. He’s not interested in any from the Lady Claire.”

  The deed wasn’t done until Richard claimed her as his sister. “You chose well,” Simon persisted. “You may count on Sir Thomas to keep your sisters safe.”

  “Alys needs no protection from you, does she? She’d hardly the type to make a man lose his head. Unlike the younger one,” he added broodingly.

  “A man may lose his head over a great many things,” Simon murmured. “I’ve yet to see a woman who was worth it.”

  It was the right approach. Richard laughed. “You’re a wise man, Grendel. I’ve chosen well for my chief advisor. No woman’s worth the trouble they can cause. See to it that Sir Thomas keeps a closer watch on both my sisters.”

  Simon bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”

  He was halfway down the hall when Hedwiga’s nasal, carping voice came to him, raised in anger. Richard’s mumbled replies were less audible, and Simon found he was smiling. Lady Hedwiga would punish Richard, far more thoroughly than any of Brother Jerome’s penances.

  Not that he could count on Richard’s forbearance to last any length of time. Claire was a choice temptation, and Richard had never been one to deny himself. He was forestalled only.

  There was only one remedy, and that was to distract Richard from his lust. Richard’s appetite for power was stronger than any of his other insatiable needs, and concentrating on his machinations might keep him busy. To save one young woman, he needs must sacrifice a child. He shrugged. Sacrificing that child-king had been a probability from the very beginning. He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell too long on the unpleasant prospect. When a nasty job had to be done, it was best to get it over with.

  His workshop, however, was not the best place for such a project. These things must be done with delicacy, and for all that he’d managed to scare away most of the inhabitants of Summersedge Keep, he preferred the confines of his tower room for matters such as these. No one dared breach the fastness of his private quarters except Richard himself, and even he was usually too wise. As for Alys, she was a complication he would deal with later.

  He was proven right in his surmise within the hour. He was in his workshop, making a mental list of all he would have Godfrey fetch to his room, when a shadow appeared at the door, blocking out the late afternoon sun, and he knew, to his regret, that it wouldn’t be the distracting Lady Alys.

  Sir Thomas du Rhaymer stood in the doorway, tall, acutely uncomfortable, looking as if he’d just stepped into a nest of vipers, or a fresh pile of horse dung. Simon had no illusions as to what Thomas thought of him. He’d worked hard to engender fear and distrust and superstitious horror, and the noble Sir Thomas had always reacted just as Simon had planned.

  “You do me great honor, Sir Thomas,” Simon greeted him smoothly, allowing just a trace of irony into his voice. “I trust Lady Claire and Lady Alys are safely bestowed?”

  “They’re back in their solar, with Brother Jerome keeping them company,” Sir Thomas said slowly. He was a handsome man, a stalwart young knight, Simon thought Not so very different from the young man he had once been, so very long ago, it seemed.

  He shook that thought from his head, never one to waste time on foolish memories. “I’ve spoken with Lord Richard. Lady Hedwiga should keep him well-behaved for the time being, though it seems best if you keep a close watch. Our liege lord is a man of impulse and strong actions, and he seems uncertain that Lady Claire is truly blood kin.”

  Their eyes met briefly, both of them knowing that was a convenient lie. Thomas took a deep breath. “Even were she not, she is a lady worthy of gentle treatment and respect.”

  “But who in this life gets what she or he deserves?” Simon countered, leaning against the workbench.

  Thomas hadn’t come to him for a discussion of philosophy, nor to report on the condition of the two sisters, but he seemed curiously loath to get to the point. Simon was willing to wait.

  “Our reward comes in the next life,” Thomas said stiffly.

  “Will you have a true and faithful wife in the next life, Thomas?” he questioned softly. “A just lord, lands of your own, children to raise?”

  “I have estates,” he said.

  “But there’s not much use in holdings if there’s no one to share them with, is there?” He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to taunt the young man. Thomas had lost almost as much as Simon had, and yet he still clung to his faith, to his honor. Such blind devotion annoyed him.

  He’d pushed Thomas too far. The knight turned and started toward the door, and Simon was half-tempted to let him go. But curiosity was one sin he cultivated. “Leaving so
soon, Sir Thomas?” he said. “I thought you came to ask me something.”

  Thomas halted, turning to look at him, his face pale and set in the murky light. “Why would you think that?”

  “You would hardly bother to inform me of the ladies’ well-being. You dislike and distrust me as much as everyone else in this castle, with the exception of Brother Jerome.”

  “Brother Jerome is too good and too forgiving,” Thomas said sharply.

  “To me?” Simon inquired. “Or to you?”

  Ah, he was torn, and Simon found it vastly amusing. He wanted to storm from the workshop, cursing Richard’s wicked wizard. But there was obviously something he needed even more.

  Thomas took a deep breath, steeling himself to do commerce with the devil. “I have need of your services.” It came out in a rough whisper, and Simon moved closer, keeping the triumphant smile from his face.

  “I am honored, good knight,” he murmured. “And what can I do for you? A healing salve for boils, a spell for making money? A cure for impotence, a posset to cleanse the bowels? Or are you, perhaps, interested in a love philtre?”

  “Are there such things?” he asked hoarsely.

  “There are indeed. It is only a sorrow that the people of Summersedge are too afraid of me to seek my help.”

  “You like to frighten them,” Thomas said.

  Simon’s opinion of the young man rose a notch. “Indeed, I do. Very astute of you. Only the bravest dare seek my help or disturb my work. So tell me, sir knight, what can I grant you? I have things to accomplish before the evening meal, and while I find your company stimulating I’m afraid I must forgo its pleasure before long. You want a love charm, I assume? I needn’t ask for whom—it’s quite clear to anyone with eyes. You want Lady Claire to fall into your bed.”

  “No!” he cried in real horror.

  “No? You intrigue me. Then what is it you want?” he said with a trace of impatience.

  “Something… something that would have the opposite effect,” he said in a harsh voice.

  “The lady is too eager?” It was cruel of him to taunt the miserable young knight, but Simon couldn’t resist.

  “No!” Thomas said.

  “Be clear, and be brief, Sir Thomas. Tell me what you wish, and I will grant it if it’s in my power.”

  “I want you to give me something to… to strengthen my will. To make me oblivious to the charms of… of a lady. I need the very opposite of a love potion. Something that would make me immune to base longings and desires.”

  Simon didn’t laugh, much as he wanted to. Indeed, the poor, noble young man could almost break his heart, if one still beat within his scarred body. “I can’t do it,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

  “Why not? Is it not within your powers?”

  “I know of several ways to accomplish what you seek. None of them are pleasant, and all of them are too far reaching.”

  “I’m not afraid!” Thomas said.

  “You’re willing to take an herbal remedy that will make you cold and hurtful and without conscience toward all you meet? It can’t be refined into dislike for one person, I’m afraid. Or would you prefer a simple surgery? I’ve seen it done, even assisted in the process, and you’d most likely survive. I could remove your testicles and then no woman would have anything to fear from you.”

  Sir Thomas turned a lovely greenish shade. “I… er…”

  “Or you could simply continue as you have been, praying for deliverance from the distraction of womankind. Their sights and their scents, their soft sighs and gentle movements. You’ve resisted so far, surely you can continue to be strong?”

  “I hadn’t counted on Lady Claire,” he muttered.

  “She is a temptation, isn’t she?” Simon said softly. “But I have faith in you, Sir Thomas. You’ll find it in your heart to resist her siren’s lures.”

  The look Thomas cast at Simon was full of anguish. “It isn’t her fault,” he said. “It’s mine. And I can resist lust. I can resist lures.”

  “Then what is it you cannot resist?”

  “Love,” he said flatly.

  Simon didn’t laugh. “If it’s that bad, Sir Thomas, then maybe you’d be better off caponed.”

  Sir Thomas turned on his heel and stalked toward the door in a righteous rage. He paused at the last minute, unable to stop himself.

  “Promise me one thing, wizard,” he said.

  “If it is within my power,” Simon said lightly.

  “Don’t give any love philtres to Lady Claire.”

  “Are you afraid of her succumbing to Lord Richard?” he asked softly. “Or to you?”

  Sir Thomas was at the far end of his tether, and if Simon were to push him much further he would regret it But Simon was always one to push things. “Do anything to hurt the lady,” Thomas said grimly, “and you’ll be the one who’s caponed.”

  It was irresistible. “Ah, but Sir Thomas. Who’s to say I’m not already?”

  The castle was alive with rumors. Lady Hedwiga had returned and refused to give audience to her husband’s bastard sisters. Richard the Fair had retired to his own solar with enough wine to drown an army. And Brother Jerome was running all over the castle looking greatly troubled.

  But that was nothing compared to the more delicious rumors that currently flourished. Sir Thomas was far too noble to indulge in idle gossip, but the courtyard of Summersedge Keep was a busy place so close to the evening meal, and at least three servants had been listening quite avidly. Within the hour it was public knowledge that Sir Thomas du Rhaymer had been bewitched, that Lady Claire had seduced the poor knight, and that Lord Richard’s mysterious advisor was lacking a vital portion of his anatomy. The kitchen workers hadn’t had as much fun since Christmastide.

  It took longer for the word to reach the two sisters, since neither of them went down to eat They stayed alone in the solar, window shutters flung wide to let in the cold, cleansing autumn air and rid the place of Richard’s foul presence. It wasn’t until Madlen arrived back, her plain face alight with mystery and pleasure, that they first heard.

  Madlen was a woman possessed of a kindly heart and a very small amount of tact. While Lady Claire was in the garderobe, she informed Lady Alys of the rumors concerning Sir Thomas and Lady Claire. Enough time had passed, along with Richard’s careful intervention, that it was now believed that Lord Richard had come upon the two of them, rutting in Lady Claire’s solar.

  No one quite believed it, of course. Lord Richard would scarcely bear the scars of a woman’s hand on his face, and Sir Thomas would not be alive if it were the truth. But it made a lovely story on a quiet night.

  But Richard’s pet monster was always more interesting, and Madlen couldn’t bear to wait until she was alone with Claire. The other women would be arriving soon, and would spoil her delight in passing on such shocking information.

  Alys stood at the window, staring out over the castle below, remembering Simon’s words. He’d watched her the night before, seen her pacing in front of the windows. She peered into the darkness, trying to orient herself. Which tower was his? Which lighted window belonged to the Wizard of Summersedge Keep? Would he be watching again tonight? If she went to him, would he kiss her again?

  A wild, foolish fancy, and she pulled away, only to see Madlen busy whispering in Claire’s ear as she brushed her long, silky hair. Claire’s expression was one of utter horror, until she noticed her sister’s curious attention. She muttered something sharp and dismissive to the servant, taking the brush from her hand and continuing to attend to her own hair.

  “You may go, Madlen,” Claire said with unaccustomed dignity. “We have no further need of you tonight.”

  Madlen looked toward Alys uncertainly, but Alys simply nodded. Claire was more than able to unlace her sister’s cumbersome gown, and Alys was suddenly, mortally tired.

  “And we shall have no need of any other of the women attending us tonight,” Claire added sharply.

  “Yes, my lady
.” Madlen curtseyed, but there was no denying the real pout on her plain face.

  Alys waited until the servant was gone, her footsteps dying away in the distance. She waited long minutes while Claire brushed her hair, her face averted, her back turned.

  She waited until Claire looked up, a determinedly cheerful expression plastered firmly on her pretty face. “I’ll brush your hair for you, Alys, if you wish. I’m sorry I sent Madlen away but she was so rough tonight she was giving me a headache.”

  “I don’t mind,” Alys said pleasantly. “As long as you tell me what it was you were whispering about. It must be something quite awful.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Lying is a sin, Claire,” she said gently.

  “So is being kissed by your half-brother,” she shot back.

  “His sin, not yours, Claire. What did Madlen tell you? I promise I won’t be unreasonably angry. Has Richard been telling lies? Has he disparaged you in any way… ?”

  “It’s not about Richard,” she said, never able to keep a secret in all her seventeen years. “And it’s not about me.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Claire reached up and caught her sister’s hands, pulling her down to sit beside her on the bed. “Are you certain you want to marry Simon of Navarre?”

  Alys kept the calm expression on her face by force. “I wasn’t aware there was much of a choice in the matter,” she said, avoiding commitment “It was either you or me, and we decided that you wouldn’t thrive in such a circumstance.”

  Claire bit her lip. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” she said, more to herself than to Alys.“This is probably very good news indeed. At least you’ll be spared…”

  “What news, Claire?” Alys couldn’t keep the faint tone of impatience from her voice. “Has something happened to Lord Simon? Is he hurt?”

  “Not recently,” Claire said.

  “Would you please explain yourself?” Alys didn’t wonder at the tension in her voice. She was growing accustomed to experiencing heightened emotions when it came to the man who would wed her.

  “Apparently Simon of Navarre’s hand is not the only useless part of him.”