Castle of the Heart

by Speer, Flora

  “Cristin is heartbroken over Geoffrey’s new love,” Arianna said, sobering at the sight of the girl’s stricken eleven-year-old face across the hall.

  “Cristin will recover,” Reynaud predicted. “She’s young and there will be many young men she will sigh over before she’s done. It’s Selene who worries me. I see terror in her eyes. She reminds me of a rabbit trapped in a snare. If she does not find her way free soon, I don’t know what will happen to her.”

  “She has become oddly quiet,” Arianna agreed. “We are not as close as we once were, and it’s not just because she is married and I am not. It’s as though some secret door in her heart has been shut to me, and she will not open it again.”

  Summer heat descended on Afoncaer, and bright, sunny days followed each other in golden profusion, unusual and welcomed after the wet devastation of the previous year. Afoncaer lay basking peacefully in the sun while its people labored at their summer chores. The crops were good. The villeins worked cheerfully in the fields, knowing there would be no hunger for humans or animals when winter finally came. Arianna carried baskets of herbs to the stillroom to hang them so she and Meredith could use them later when they were dried. Joan put Cristin in charge of the kitchen garden. She was to weed and water the vegetables, while at the same time chasing birds and insects away from the fruits drying on racks. More fruits were preserved in honey, laid down in large earthenware crocks. The cool storerooms beneath the great hall and the keep began to fill with baskets of grain and root vegetables. The new cistern was finished, and with the castle’s expanded water supply assured Reynaud was free to turn his full attention to reinforcement of the gatehouse at the outer entrance to the village. He spent long days there directing the carpenters and masons.

  In the third week of August rumors began. They spread among the villagers first, but it was not long before the whispers reached the castle. Flickering lights had been seen in the forest at night. Odd noises had been heard. Some said witches or other supernatural beings were causing the commotion. More practical minds suggested an earthly explanation when Reynaud, Geoffrey, and Captain John conferred together.

  “Could it be the Welsh?” Reynaud suggested. “They have been too quiet lately. Perhaps they are preparing an attack.”

  “It’s always possible,” Geoffrey agreed. “I’ll send a couple of men to Tynant to be sure all is well there, and I think a thorough inspection of the castle’s defenses is in order.”

  “I’ll see to it at once,” Captain John said. He ordered every inch of the walls examined, both castle and town. The towers were secure, and so were the gatehouses, and they would be even safer when Reynaud’s improvements were completed.

  “Another few days, that’s all we need,” Reynaud said. “But the present arrangement is strong enough to hold should an attack come. Post extra guards if you are worried.” Geoffrey did.

  Lastly, the postern gate was checked. The way to it was a narrow, steep stairway that zigzagged through the foundations of the castle wall. The entrance to the stair was at one side of the inner bailey, near the tower keep. The door was thick and strong, secured with a bar and a heavy lock. It could only be opened from inside the castle wall. At the bottom of the long stairway lay a second door, even stronger than the first, and it, too, opened only from inside. There was no sign of tampering.

  “All’s well,” Geoffrey said, coming back to the inner bailey a little out of breath. “That’s a difficult staircase to climb, and the steps cut into the cliff below the gate down there are even worse. It would take a very agile goat to climb up here from the river. You built well, Reynaud. Heavily armed men could never get in that way.”

  “It was planned for escape,” Reynaud said, “not for easy entrance.”

  The postern doors were barred and locked again, and Geoffrey went on to the corner towers and the wall by the keep.

  “All is secure,” he finally reported. “Just the same, I have ordered extra guards and we will stay alert. I think we can rest easy, though. Nothing seems amiss. This castle is too strong for anything but the heaviest siege engines to breach the walls, and we know the Welsh have no such equipment.”

  “But you are not easy, are you?” Arianna said to Reynaud when he spoke to her later of Geoffrey’s efforts.

  “I feel,” he told her, “the way I do when a thunderstorm is about to break, or a blizzard in winter. My bones ache. Something is going to happen. And soon.

  “What can we do?”

  “Wait.” He smiled at her, the deep lines in his face crinkling. “And plan.”

  He looked around Meredith’s herb garden. He liked to sit there in the sun while Arianna worked cutting herbs or trimming off dead blossoms. It was a quiet, private place, though only a few steps away from the bustling inner bailey. Nothing that was said here, behind its enclosing stone walls, could be overheard outside.

  “Tonight,” Reynaud said, “I will write to Guy, in secret, and tell him of my ominous fears. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. This is the way the Welsh work, Arianna. They cause false alarms and give us reason to post extra guards, and then they do nothing until we are so wearied by sentry duty and sleepless nights that we finally begin to relax. That is when they move, and it is usually something sudden and totally unexpected. I have confidence in Geoffrey’s military skills, and I know he sends regular reports to Guy, but he will put a good face on events so Guy won’t worry while he’s far from home. I believe Guy should know exactly what is happening here. I’ll send the letter off tomorrow, disguised in the normal coming and going through the outer gate, and you and I and the courier will be the only ones who know of it. Can you tell me of some clever lad who could get from here to Adderbury quickly but without being noticed?”

  “Yes,” Arianna said, after a moment’s thought. “Benet, one of the stableboys. He’s a friend of Cristin’s. He would like to be a great knight and throw all his honors at her feet.”

  “Tell him he will be honored for this,” Reynaud said gravely. “Come to my room at first light. I’ll give you the letter to pass to him. You must be my intermediary in this, Arianna. Since I can’t ride, I never go to the stables. It would look strange for me to do so now, and I do not want to arouse anyone’s suspicion. Warn this Benet that speed and secrecy are essential. If Guy is not at Adderbury, Benet is to insist on an armed escort to take him to Kelsey or wherever else Guy has gone. I will also write to the seneschal at Adderbury and tell him to provide Benet with whatever aid he needs.”

  No one commented on Arianna’s visit to the stables later that day, nor on her quiet talk with Benet, since she often conferred with him about plans for her and Cristin to ride.

  She had not misjudged Benet. He had felt the tenseness and the undercurrent of fear that had gripped Afoncaer for weeks, and he was eager for action, especially for something that would bring credit to himself. He promptly suggested a plausible excuse for his absence.

  “I received word last week,” Benet said, “that my uncle, who lives near Shrewsbury, is sick. Several people know of it, so it won’t seem strange if I ask leave to go and visit him. There are enough other stableboys to do my chores for a week or two. Just give me the letter when we meet in the hall early tomorrow morning, and tell Master Reynaud I’ll do my very best for him.”

  Arianna approved of this plan, and so the letter was sent. After Benet left Afoncaer, the strange noises and lights continued. Another inspection of the castle and village walls was made, and again nothing unusual was found.

  “Although,” Reynaud said thoughtfully, “it’s hard to tell along the cliff. It’s so steep we can only look down from the top of the walls, or up from across the river. The side next to the stream is even worse, with all those slippery boulders.”

  “Which is why it’s safe,” Geoffrey told him. “You built it that way.” And then he sent men over the side on ropes to inspect wall and foundations, just to be certain, and ordered a detachment of men into the forest to search for anything out of th
e ordinary. Nothing was found. The noises and lights stopped for a week. Everyone waited to learn what would happen next.

  Within the castle itself, tension grew daily beneath the outward calm. Selene became more and more withdrawn, keeping to her room most of each day. Though nominally in charge of domestic affairs during Meredith’s absence, she did little, leaving Arianna and Joan to plan meals and direct the female servants.

  A fire began in the village one night. It spread, and Geoffrey ordered men from the castle to help fight it. Selene came out of her room to see what the excitement was. Having satisfied herself it was nothing serious, and that Deirdre was safe, she started back to her room.

  “It is a fine night, is it not? A lovely night for starting fires,” said Gwenefer behind her. Selene stood still, held by the compelling note in that silky, quiet voice, as Gwenefer continued. “I think, my friend, it is time for you to repay me for all I have done for you.”

  “What do you expect of me now?” Selene hissed over her shoulder. “I’ve fed your cousin Cynan all the information I could get. You have been sitting on the dais at every meal for more than three weeks. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t it enough?” Selene was filled with loathing for Gwenefer, and for herself. She was consumed with guilt every time she looked at the Welsh woman, and yet she knew when Thomas returned she would take Gwenefer’s medicine again, and keep taking it, doing whatever Gwenefer demanded in payment. She would never bear another child in blood and pain if she could possibly avoid it.

  “You have only paid part of the cost,” Gwenefer said pleasantly.

  “What more can I do for you?”

  “How generous you are to offer, Lady Selene,” the mocking voice behind her said.

  “Just tell me what you want and then leave me in peace.”

  “I want the keys to the postern gate.”

  “Why?” Selene knew perfectly well that there was only one reason Gwenefer could have for making such a demand, but she needed time to think. This was horrible. She had never imagined anything like this would be expected of her. How had she become so entrapped?

  “Perhaps I want to escape,” Gwenefer said, joking into the silence between them.

  “Then walk out the main gate. I won’t help you any more.”

  “But you will. You have already betrayed Afoncaer, Selene. You betrayed your husband, and his need for an heir, the day you decided to take my medicine, and you have betrayed him, and the castle, each time you met Cynan and exchanged information for more medicine. You would go on doing it forever, if you could. What are two small keys against all of that?”

  “I didn’t think – I never meant – oh, Isabel, did you mean this to happen?” Selene’s voice broke on a sob.

  “Be quiet, someone will hear us. Who is Isabel?”

  “Someone who should be here now, to do this for herself.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Listen to me, you silly fool.” Gwenefer caught Selene’s shoulders and shook her hard. “Stop crying! You are chatelaine of this castle in Lady Meredith’s absence. You can go anywhere. Get me those keys.”

  “You promised,” Selene wept. “You gave me your word that Deirdre and I would not be harmed.”

  “If I said it, it must be so,” Gwenefer said lightly. “Will you stop crying, or shall I slap you?”

  “I can’t take the keys,” Selene whispered, trying to regain some self-control. “They are in a locked box in the wardroom, just inside the entrance to the keep, and there are always men in there.”

  “Tomorrow night,” Gwenefer said, “there will be another fire, a larger one this time, and more men will be sent out to fight it. You can easily distract the attention of any men-at-arms in the wardroom by calling to them to come and see what is happening. They will never suspect you. Slip into the wardroom and take the keys, then return to your own bedchamber. I’ll be waiting outside your door. You need not even speak to me. Simply hand me the keys, then go to your room and stay there. Do you understand me, woman?”

  “Yes, I understand. You promised —Deirdre and I—”

  “I’ve heard what you have said, Selene.” There was a movement in the darkness.

  “Wait, don’t go. Why a second fire? What are you planning?”

  “Why, my Lady Weakling, you can’t think I’d tell you Welsh secrets. You’d only think of a way to betray us while trying to save yourself. Do as I’ve told you, and ask me no more questions.” Another motion and Gwenefer was gone, leaving Selene to stumble into her bedchamber, where she huddled in terrified anticipation for the rest of that night.

  The following day passed in deceptive calm. Selene kept to her room, but that had become so usual for her that no one remarked on it.

  At sunset Cynan and a friend of his slipped out of the forest and mingled with the folk who were returning to the village. It had been a market day, and a larger crowd than usual was pressing through the entrance, all hurrying to get inside the gates before they should be shut for the night. Cynan and his companion were used to making themselves inconspicuous, and thus got into the village with no trouble, walking innocently by the alert but overworked guards.

  Just after dark, at the hour previously arranged with their leader Emrys, the Welshmen set several fires. While the attention of the guards on the wall and at the gate was thus distracted, they hastily climbed the stairway against the wall and overpowered the two men who were standing watch in the corner tower nearest the stream. Then Cynan let down the rope he had carried wrapped around his waist, and after the men hidden among the boulders below had secured it, they used it to haul up a heavy rope netting. They had barely finished fastening it to the tower before Welshmen were swarming up the net, pouring over its top edge, and fanning out along the wall.

  They were soon seen; not all the guards on the wall had forgotten their duty in watching the fire, and the alarm was given just as a rain of arrows soared over the wet moat and the wall. A good Welsh bowman could loose twelve arrows a minute and hit a target two hundred and forty yards away, and the men Cynan led had been practicing for years. They picked off the guards along the front wall within minutes and then aimed the next flight of arrows into the village. Meanwhile, the Welsh who had made it over the wall and lived to reach the ground fought their way through the village toward the gatehouse in the outer wall, their goal to open the gate and let their comrades in.

  Inside the castle proper, in the great hall, Arianna heard the shouting and saw Geoffrey rush out.

  “What is it?” she cried. Then, “It’s the attack we feared, isn’t it, Reynaud? Come, I’ll help you into the keep. Where’s Joan, where are the kitchen maids?”

  “More importantly,” Reynaud said calmly, “where is Selene?”

  “She must be in her chamber. No, there she goes, past the door to the wardroom. She must have been outside. She’s probably going to Deirdre.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Arianna. Find Selene, and the two of you take Deirdre and Cristin and barricade yourselves in Lord Guy’s private chamber. It’s the last place of defense, and it will take a great deal to break down that door.”

  “Come with me, Reynaud. I’ll help you up the steps.”

  “Go now, Arianna. Obey me. We must allow no valuable hostages to be taken. Stop in the wardroom and find yourself a dagger. Be quick about it now. And do not hesitate to use your weapon on anyone who threatens you or the children. Anyone at all.” The urgency in his voice propelled Arianna out of the great hall.

  “Joan!” Reynaud shouted. “Ah, there you are. Collect all the female servants and get them into the keep. Lock all the doors behind you.”

  “I will.” Joan ran for the kitchen, calling orders to the women as she went.

  Reynaud hobbled to the wardroom. It was filled with men busily arming themselves. He scanned the room quickly, then demanded, “Where are the keys to the postern gate?”

  “They should be in this box,” came the answer. “No, the box is broken open, and the keys a
re gone!”

  “Where is Geoffrey?” Reynaud asked.

  “On the wall,” one fellow answered, “directing the men-at-arms.”

  “Go tell him the keys are gone,” Reynaud ordered, and the man ran across the bailey toward the inner gates. “The rest of you go secure the postern gate on this side.”

  They understood the danger and would have obeyed him for all he was no soldier, but it was already too late. The small door in the inner bailey wall flew open. A single line of men issued from it and headed toward the inner gatehouse.

  “Seal up the keep,” Reynaud ordered. “Let no one in save Geoffrey and his men.”

  Seeing there was no more he could do and that he would only be in the way of any fighting might develop, Reynaud left the wardroom and made his way slowly and clumsily up the spiral stairs, clinging to the stone newel post, winding around and around on one leg and his crutches. It took him too long to reach the third floor and his own chamber. When he did get there, and looked out the narrow window, he saw by the light of fires and flaming torches that the inner gate was open.

  “They could never have fought their way through those defenses,” he muttered. “It was treachery. Only treachery could bring Afoncaer down.”

  He barred the stout door to his room and pushed his writing table against it by the simple means of leaning hard on the table and letting himself fall to the floor as it moved. Then he found his crutches again and pulled himself upright. His precious books were in this room, and all the castle records, along with the history of Afoncaer upon which he had worked so long. He would not let those Welsh barbarians destroy them. He heard voices outside the door. Someone banged on it, then went away. He was certain the Welsh were inside the keep. They would go to the lord’s chamber.

  The only things more precious than his books were the souls in that chamber, just above his, the two children and Arianna. He could hear shouts coming from the spiral stairs and knew he could never get to them that way. But there was another route, one he and Guy had built with their own hands some twelve years ago. Only the two of them and Meredith knew of it. Reynaud made his way to the wooden shelves that lined one wall. He pushed a heavy parchment scroll aside and his fingers searched for the spring. It worked as easily as it had the last time he and Guy had tested it, and the hidden door opened. The wooden steps concealed behind the shelves went straight up to the lord’s chamber. Slowly, painfully, and as quietly as he could manage on one leg and two crutches, Reynaud began to climb.