by Robyn Carr
“What brings us here?” Thurwell asked. “It cannot be your intention to investigate every convent we pass. We leave a dozen behind us.”
Mallory ignored the question and went to the door of the first outbuilding, pounding his fist on that oaken portal. There was no response from within. He pounded again and again. Finally a voice answered him. “Who calls?”
“A knight of the Cross. Will you open to me?”
The bolt from the inside slid back, and the door creaked open slowly. An elderly man in a ragged shirt peeked out.
“How can I serve you, sir knight?” he asked gingerly, looking carefully at the white cross on the chest of this visitor.
“I am in need of information. I have traveled far to hear if a maid I seek came to the sisters here.”
“There is no maid here,” the old man said, trying to close the door.
Mallory’s arm hit the door and prevented its closing. “I have come too far, old man, to be sent away now. The Sisters of Saint Mary may have word of her. I have been sent in this direction by one who knows. I will speak with the prioress or I will enter against your will.” He indicated the men still astride by a glance over his shoulder. The order would not contain more than a dozen nuns, some aging people cared for out of charity and perhaps a guest or two in need. All totaled, servants and residents would not number over thirty, and they would have no arms to defend themselves. “‘Twould not be difficult to enter and have my questions answered.”
“Milord, milord, you know the penalty for defiling the House of God, and these good sisters would--”
“The prioress!” he shouted.
“Aye, milord! I will tell her a knight of the Cross is here. I will fetch her now.”
“Be quick,” he warned, removing his hand and allowing the door to close. He heard the bolt as it was quickly replaced.
Thurwell came up behind him. “Who sent you to this place?” he asked quietly.
“The eve before our parting I was struck down by a man while walking from the stable late at night. I could not see him nor identify him in any way, but he told me to come to Swaffham Bulbeck. He said that what I seek is here.”
“But you said nothing, and you did not come here straightaway.”
“He warned me to say nothing or my life would be cut short. That could mean a traitor in our party even now. I never doubted you, but there were too often other ears within our range. And I did not want to leave those villages between Anselm and Swaffham Bulbeck unchecked.”
“Whom do you doubt now?”
“There is treachery in Alaric’s house. I cannot guess who would betray such a fine family.”
The bolt moved again and the door creaked open. In the doorway stood a woman in a black habit, her face wrinkled with age and her hands hidden in the folds of her sleeves. But her eyes were soft and her lips formed a pleasant line. She nodded once to Mallory and then to Thurwell. “It is not kind that you should frighten one who serves our order,” she admonished lightly.
“Beg pardon, Sister,” he said to the prioress. “I would not allow the door closed on my question. I believe someone here can help me find the woman I seek.”
“I must know more about this woman you search for. If I bid you enter here, will you give your word that you and your men will not disrupt this house? We have no weapons here and cannot defend ourselves. All reside here in peace.”
“I give you my word, Sister.”
“There is a warm fire and drink within, if you will treat those who serve you kindly.”
“I am grateful, Sister.” Mallory bowed.
“I don’t know that I can help you find the woman you seek, sir knight,” the nun said, shaking her head. “Many seek refuge here for a time and then leave. I will help you if I can.” She turned and entered the building again and Mallory gestured to his men that they should follow.
The small room was warm and friendly, a place, obviously, for secular visitors to wait for assistance from the nuns. There was another, heavier door leading from the room to where the sisters lived and prayed. He reasoned that few ever ventured beyond that heavy door.
The men entered the warm room and soon the fire warmed and dried them. The nun who had invited them in moved closer to the door that led to the rest of the convent. She beckoned Mallory near that they might talk with some measure of privacy. “When did this woman you seek visit our house?” she asked.
“I do not know that she visited here,” Mallory attempted to explain. “She disappeared from her family over two years ago, during the late summer months. There has been no trace of her and no one saw her leave. Her name is Edythe and her home was Anselm. No one knows the reason why she left, nor whether she was taken against her will or if she fled on her own mission. A man I could not name told me to come here in search of her.”
The nun shook her head sadly. “I know of no woman, but I will ask the other sisters--every one of them--if you wish.”
“Please, Sister. There must be a reason why I was sent in this direction. Someone must know where she is.”
“Why do you seek this one, sir knight?”
Mallory’s eyes grew soft and sad. “She is my wife,” he said in a low voice. “I took her just before leaving for war. I left her and money enough to support her with her father. I fear her life is in great danger--if she is alive even now.”
The nun smiled warmly. “I sense no danger, sir knight. Rest easy for now and I will speak with the other nuns. Have you a name, sir knight?”
The nun’s kindly face gave him ease and he smiled. “Yea, Sister. I am called Sir Mallory.”
“And I am Sister Agatha.”
“I will reward you handsomely if you can help me, Sister. I--” His voice broke slightly and he closed his mouth abruptly to stiffen his chin. “I love her.”
“If I am able to help you, Sir Mallory, I will have my reward. No other seems necessary. Join your men and warm yourself. It will take some time to talk to the other nuns.”
Mallory sat on the edge of a bench beside Thurwell and quietly explained why they waited. No one seemed to turn an ear toward Mallory’s hushed tones. He wondered again if anyone here would betray him.
The better part of an hour had passed and the door to the convent remained closed. When the prioress returned, Mallory snapped to his feet and towered above the little nun, anxious to hear her news. There was a soft smile on her lips. “There is a sister here who has some memory of this woman you seek, but she is old and sickly and cannot come to you. I will take you to her so that you can ask your questions.”
“May Sir Thurwell come? He is a trusted friend.”
“I see no reason to refuse,” she replied.
Thurwell followed Mallory and Sister Agatha silently. The nun led them down a hallway past many doors. When she paused to open one of two large carved oaken doors, Mallory halted in surprise. He had expected to be led to a sickroom to speak to a bedridden old woman. This door led into a chapel.
Sister Agatha stood back and indicated that the men should enter. Mallory and Thurwell stepped into the small chapel. Tapestries hung from the walls and candles lit the altar. The crucifix loomed above a veiled woman kneeling in prayer. Mallory turned to question the nun, but the door softly closed and she was gone.
From the altar, the woman rose and turned at the sound of the closing door. Mallory took two quick yet halting steps in her direction, his mouth slightly open and his eyes hopeful. The dream he had carried with him into war stood before him now. His breath left him in a heavy sigh and he opened his arms to Edythe. He felt tears come to his eyes, and to keep from weeping he held her closely, not breaking the embrace even to look at her face. He needed to fill his arms with her--possess her and not release her.
Gradually his arms relaxed and he looked down at her. There was nothing of the child he married. Womanhood was etched into her fine features. Her eyes were soft and knowing; her mouth curving and inviting. He kissed her long and lovingly, drinking of her devo
tion.
“I knew you would find me, my love,” she breathed against his lips.
He held her away from himself, looking at her closely. He was not ready for discussion, but the mystery of her departure plagued him. Loving would come later. He needed the answers now. “Your father thinks you dead,” he said, the confusion showing in his eyes.
She nodded, her eyes showing her sadness. “My brother?”
“He is home, waiting for word that I’ve found you.”
She shook her head as if to say they could not oblige Conan this time. Mallory touched her veil. “Edythe, you did not flee me--our marriage?”
“Nay,” she breathed, standing on her toes to touch his lips with hers. “Oh, my love, I would have waited forever--” She looked over Mallory’s shoulder to see Thurwell’s back. The older knight faced the chapel door, either out of respect for their privacy or out of embarrassment. “Sir Thurwell,” she called. The man turned and looked at Edythe with relief. He smiled and nodded his greeting, his cheeks slightly flushed because he felt like an intruder.
“You must both hear my story. Then we must decide what to do.”
Edythe settled herself on the floor, for there were no pews or chairs in this chapel. She patted the rushes beside her and Mallory and Thurwell sat as well, their long swords flaring out behind them.
Edythe explained the lacemaker’s powers, something these men had known nothing of. She told of the day she had heard her mother’s confession that Edwina’s death was not an accident. And then the drink that had caused her deep sleep.
“When I awoke, a full day had passed. My clothes were wet from the ground and my mouth was dry. Pierce, my mother’s manservant, had been given the chore of ending my life. He could have seen the matter done before my eyes opened another time, but he did not. He hid me in the forest until the sleeping herb was worn away. He gave me coins and bade me flee from Anselm, telling me that he could not protect me for another day. She would have found out I was alive--” Her voice cracked, for the urge to cry was strong. This wickedness in her own mother caused her great pain. Two years with the kind sisters had eased that pain only slightly.
“How did you come here, Edythe?” Mallory asked.
She shook away the urge to weep and went on bravely. “These sisters once showed Pierce a kindness when he was traveling. He knew of the place and promised I would be protected here. I put flour in my hair and wax on my face. I kept my head low and covered with a dark hood. Had you looked for an old hag riding an aging mare, more people might have answered you.”
“Could your own father not have protected you from her?” Mallory asked in anger. “Surely some message to him could have--”
“I regret my father’s sadness in thinking me dead, but this way offered more assurance that no accident would prevent me from seeing your return. I do not know how deep the veins of my mother’s wickedness run through Anselm. Many there fear her. My father is a strong ruler, true, but he has allowed her a free hand with much of Anselm. She knows how to have her way.” She shook her head. “You could not understand it as I do, my love. You have never seen my father’s wrath when someone dared to decry his wife. It is a very old rule,” she said, laughing ruefully. “If he took a course with her out of anger, that was acceptable. But he would never allow another to accuse her. And he does not want to see that she is cruel.”
“Conan must be told.”
“And how will you tell him? Will you take me to him now? Will this be finished now?”
Mallory ran a hand through his hair. “Conan has battles to fight. He must know that his own mother is crazed, that she seeks a place at his side, even if it means his ruin.”
“What battles?” Edythe asked. Was the war not over even now?
“Tedric holds Phalen. He holds Lady Chandra prisoner in her own Cordell, lest she flee him now. There is a child: the child was sired by your brother. Yea, there will be a war, though how great or small cannot be determined. Much of that rests on Theodoric’s declaration and King Richard’s return. It is our hope that the king will cure the fox of his lust for riches and power, for Tedric is guilty of crimes Richard can call treasonous. He did slay Jews--Jews under the protection of the crown.”
“Chandra,” Edythe breathed, sorting through this information carefully. “My mother fears and hates Chandra. If there is any way to do her harm, my mother will try.”
“I don’t think Lady Udele can reach Chandra. Not to help her, not to hurt her.”
“But I think the place for us is not Anselm, but near Chandra. We could not go to Cordell, but we could be near.” She looked at Mallory and Thurwell with the question in her eyes. “Could we hide ourselves near enough to Cordell at least to watch Tedric’s moves?”
The men exchanged glances and each thought for a moment.
“There is one thing I trust Conan to do,” Thurwell finally said. “I trust he will be assured of Chandra’s safety before he comes to blows with Tedric.” Thurwell smiled. “I think the lass is right,” he told Mallory, nodding toward Edythe. “I think we should place ourselves near Tedric for now.”
“Aye,” Edythe nodded eagerly. “Let us be near Chandra. The lady cannot be replaced.”
“I will take the men back to the last village and find them lodgings. They can return to Alaric with a message that tells him there is proof you are still alive and we go on alone to find you. Tie together what you can carry easily and I will return in the morning with a horse for you.”
He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I will leave you for one more night. It will be the last time.”
“I have managed two years, but this night will be the longest.”
Mallory gave his message to one of the riders and sent them off early the next morning. Crusader’s garb and blazoned shields were discarded. The men dressed themselves in simple clothing, but their size and mannerisms gave the lie to the disguise.
Gold was dropped into the palm of Sister Agatha. Her promise that they would not be betrayed was accepted as an oath, and the three riders left the convent, their mounts leading them south in the direction of Cordell.
Chapter 23
Christmas was a joyous celebration for most of England. With the knights and soldiers returning to their families, the relief turned to gaiety that spread from earl to knight to serf. And with the returning Crusaders came the hope that money and muscle would be spent strengthening the affairs at home.
The exception was at Cordell, where the return of the Crusaders meant an inevitable struggle.
The tension in the hall was as thick as the ice on the ground. Tedric, temporarily immobilized by bad weather, sent messenger after messenger into the cold wind to bring him word of his allies and enemy. Liegemen of Count John were contacted so that Tedric would be assured of his support. Missives were sent to Theodoric for the same reason, and men were sent toward Anselm to monitor Conan’s moves. The tension grew as Tedric awaited replies or news. What he learned he did not like.
Theodoric sent word that Tedric’s four older brothers were not quick to rally to his side, for they had been, for over two years, close companions to Sir Conan and they thought highly of him. Tedric was not even sure of his father’s support, since Tedric’s alliance with Count John was met with disfavor by his family.
“If they fail me, I have support enough from the count!” he shouted after reading one of his father’s letters.
Chandra, hearing this, mumbled a silent prayer that Richard would soon return to England. But that hope was dashed on a cold day in January when another message came to Tedric. King Richard had been captured and was being held prisoner.
Richard had insulted the German Duke Leopold in Palestine. While most of Richard’s army had returned by sea, Richard had chosen a land route. Leopold captured him and was holding him in his German manor, seeking a ransom for his release.
Thus, John had little time for private family wars. He had his eyes on more than Tedric’s domain: he would have all
of England. He traveled to Normandy and Paris, paying homage to those leaders in return for their support. Rumors spread that Richard was already dead, leaving John as rightful heir. England’s nobles were confused and frightened, struggling with their loyalties, trying to decide whether to wait upon the return of the king or go with John now, early in his search for supporters.
Alaric declared his support of Richard. Tedric hoped that his father would go with John, but his brothers had fought with Richard and they loved and admired him. They all, save Tedric, supported Richard and would fight John in any attempt he made to usurp the crown. Theodoric’s support was slipping further and was present in name only. Tedric was frightened. And with his fear came rage.
February dragged and March brought no challenge from Sir Conan, but word was delivered to Tedric that the knight was not spending his winter idly. Conan too was making inquiries. Through his messengers and his own travels, Conan was asking questions about Tedric’s activities over the past two years. And, to add to the insult, he was building an army within Anselm’s walls.
“If Conan attacks Phalen and you are here--” Chandra attempted.
“Phalen is stout,” Tedric replied. “And do not try to persuade me to leave here and await his whim at Phalen. That is clearly what he wants: to have me stand ready for weeks and even months while he does nothing.”
If it was what Conan planned, it had worked. Conan had not even acknowledged Tedric’s possession of Phalen.
It was near the end of March when Master William visited the keep. He came to speak to Lady Chandra, but even he was not allowed a private moment with her. He addressed Tedric, but not until the lady was near enough to hear.