by Robyn Carr
“And if Theodoric does not see his son’s treachery?”
“Then we will war, but first Chandra will be free and Theodoric will hear Tedric’s crimes aired.”
“And where do you go?” Alaric asked.
“I will see the lady free without Tedric’s consent. She is a prisoner in Cordell, not Phalen, as Tedric would have me believe.”
Alaric did not question his son, though he did not know how Conan could have learned Chandra’s whereabouts.
“We leave now in three troops. My lord.” He bowed to Alaric. “North, to Theodoric. Sir knight.” He bowed to Galen. “East with your men, to Phalen Castle. We come together there, and, God willing, this will be done.”
The falcon flapped his wings. Conan stood before his destrier and allowed the squires to help him don his mail. He mounted his horse and took a moment to quiet its prancing. This mount, however new, was already accustomed to the firm hand that commanded him. Neither man nor beast, it seemed, was beyond his control. The banner of the Blue Falcon was raised high and the gate opened for the departing army.
“When this is done, my lord, you shall have your family at home,” Conan told his father. Alaric thought of Edythe, Galen and a grandson he did not know was his before today. And his wife? He was not sure. There was sadness in his eyes as he nodded to Conan.
Chapter 25
Lady Udele was guarded in her chambers by men-at-arms as well as Pierce, his loyalty now doubted in the keep. Pierce sat on a stool near the door and leaned against the wall, dozing occasionally and then coming awake with a start to look in the direction of his pacing mistress. She would not meet his eyes. She would only hiss her anger and turn abruptly away.
Pierce looked with pity on his mistress now for he knew her to be mad. For so many years he had obeyed her every command, hoping for her happiness, but all that was for naught.
His head slumped again in slumber. He had been without sleep for two full days. He gave a loud snort and settled his back more comfortably against the wall. In spite of his efforts, he slept.
Udele looked suspiciously in his direction. A wry smile twisted her mouth. She crept toward the door and slowly pulled it open. At the bottom of the stair, she could see the guard talking to someone out of sight. Some matter had called him from his post just outside her door.
The keep was dark, but the risk of being seen was great. After closing the door to her chamber behind her, she tiptoed down the corridor. She was barely away when she heard the guard coming back up the stair. She listened as he settled himself on the stool in the hallway. With a snicker, Udele fled quietly to the back stair.
Only a few guards were posted about the dark streets. Other men, their positions high on the wall, did not notice the slight figure making her way into the hamlet behind huts and shops.
She reached her destination without incident and quietly opened the lacemaker’s door. Giselle was awake and sitting on a stool across the room. The fire blazed on the hearth. On the table beside Giselle, the scarlet cloth was spread and on it rested an ordinary rock.
“You knew I was coming,” Udele ground out.
“I did not know when,” Giselle replied. “I knew you would come before very long.”
Udele walked to the table and picked up the rock. “What is this?”
“My crystal. It is finished.”
“And your sight?”
“Finished,” she said wearily.
“As is your life,” Udele said almost cheerfully. “My lord husband will have you cast from this earth.”
“And you, madam?” the old woman asked. “What will he deal you?”
“He thinks me mad,” she confided, a secretive smile playing on her lips. “He will do me no harm, for he thinks me mad. ‘Tis a bad omen to kill someone crazed.” A gleeful cackle escaped her, and she spun about in the little room. “But you see, even now he has little to say about whether I come or go. I was to be held prisoner, but I am here!”
“Your guard sleeps,” Giselle said, moving from the stool to stand near the fire.
“I thought you could not see,” Udele snapped. “You see as well as ever you did.”
“Though I would have it otherwise, madam, I can still feel you rise and slumber. I feel your anger and your joy--and your madness. It is my curse, for I should have denied you long ago.”
“You told me all this would have happened without your predictions,” Udele chided.
“So it would have. But there are some things you must bear responsibility for. Lady Chandra’s life would not be in danger now except for you. Edythe, poor child, would not have suffered so. And Tedric--I cannot see even now how you thought that aiding Sir Conan’s enemy would give you more of him.”
“This is your fault!” Udele raged. “You and your wretched stone, your predictions! If you had not been here with your lying promises, none of this would be happening to me now!”
“You are wrong, madam. Had you let charity and goodness guide you and sought only those rewards you deserved, you would have lived long and in comfort. By your wickedness you purchased your fate.”
“My fate!”
“Your death,” Giselle returned crisply, moving closer to Udele and facing her without fear.
“And whose hand will deal me death?” she questioned hotly.
“Your own hand, lady. Your own and no other.”
“You are a witch,” Udele spat. She whirled and picked up the rock and tossed it in her hand. “And your tricks will not work with me.” She hurled the rock into the fireplace and the sparks flew as it settled into the embers.
Giselle stepped back from the flying sparks and pulled her shawl about her shoulders. “There is nothing I can do to help you now,” she said calmly.
“Your help brought me nothing but pain,” Udele snarled. She reached into the hearth and withdrew the heavy poker, and, holding it effortlessly, she raised it over her head as a weapon. The glowing red tip touched and ignited a piece of hanging lace. Giselle saw the tiny flame behind Udele and a glazed and peaceful look came into the lacemaker’s eyes.
The first blow caused Giselle to fall, but Udele was beyond reason in her madness and struck her again and again, oblivious to what was happening behind her, not conscious of what her own murderous hand had wrought. The lace took light quickly, and like a torch the entire side of the room popped into blinding flames. With a scream of terror she dropped the poker and turned to see that her escape from the cottage was blocked by flames. They leapt out at her face and skirt, stinging her eyes and catching on her long hair as she whirled in terror.
Her screams melted into rending wails like those of a wounded beast. Her hair and gown were afire, and she felt her own death as if she stood apart from herself and watched.
Villagers awakened by the screams attempted to put out the fire, but were successful only in keeping it from taking the entire village. Not much time passed before the lacemaker’s cottage was nothing but ash.
Pierce, who had come in search of his mistress, found her charred remains at daybreak. He wrapped her in his cloak and carried her toward the hall, looking straight ahead. In his mind he thought only of his mistress as she was at three and ten, a lass whose gaiety enchanted all who saw her smile.
Pierce approached the door to the hall. “She will not be welcome in the church,” he said to the guard.
“Where do you take her?” the man asked.
“To her chamber where her women will shroud her,” the old servant wearily replied. He accompanied his lady to her grand chamber for the last time.
***
Sir Conan turned off the road to Cordell before reaching Colchester. He sent his troop along the preferred road, flying his banner, while he took a path through the wood. When night fell, he hung his shield on his saddle and removed the mail he wore. His spurs were stacked with his other battle gear, and he kept only the broadsword at his belt He knew the horse could serve him no longer. Only the dangers of gullies and pits in the forest kept hi
m from walking through the night. He rested against a sturdy tree, dozing. Every sound aroused him, and when he did close his eyes he suffered through visions of Chandra and his child.
He feared that too much time had passed, that too many things stood between them. They had loved against the laws of God for so long that he did not imagine many blessings would be theirs. But he would take the pains with the pleasures, of that much he was sure. Even now if he could free her, she would not be able to come to him easily. There would be scandal and hardship.
The sun was high the next day when Conan found paths he recognized. He could sense the presence of men about him. And before long, a man stood before him, a knight garbed in rough leather tunic and chausses that showed the signs of many mendings. Mallory smiled and gave a small salute. “Your sister lives and is safe,” he said.
“It was my own mother who would have had her slain,” Conan replied.
“Yea, Edythe knows this. Now she cares for your son. She is with Wynne in a small room we provided in a little town near Anglesey.”
“Then Tedric is holding my son for ransom when my son is not even there,” Conan said. “Tedric makes it hard for me to think of sparing him.”
“He has contacted you?”
“Aye. He will trade the lives of his wife and the child for free title to Phalen, and with that Cordell as well.”
“We watched him ride out, but seeing that he did not take his lady, we waited here.”
Thurwell stepped onto the path and smiled his greeting. “You tarried so long we thought we would have to finish your business for you,” he said and chuckled.
Conan’s smile was stiff and strained, but the sight of his friends brought him more comfort than he had had in some time. “Are you prepared to scale a seawall of slippery rock?” he asked.
Mallory whistled low and looked at Conan with some surprise.
“At night,” Conan added.
“Tedric’s army is small. Sir William’s force could take them if they can be drawn out.”
“And if Tedric’s order is to kill the lady in the event of attack?” Conan asked. “She is in the custody of his guard. There will be no attack until she is safe.”
“And so you must enter the keep by the cliffs,” Thurwell concluded. “There is no other way.”
“I have done so before,” Conan confessed.
Mallory and Thurwell smiled at each other, both thinking like thoughts. “We reasoned that you had,” Mallory said.
“There is naught to fear,” Conan told them. “If you should slip, your pain would be short.”
“That gives me great comfort,” Mallory returned.
“We will enter the hall through Chandra’s chamber at night. My troop of men will come to Cordell down the road, drawing out some of Tedric’s forces. When that battle has begun, Sir William can take the hall and we will be ready to defend the lady. I think more than a few will be killed. I fear it cannot be avoided.”
“And then the damsel will be yours,” Thurwell remarked.
“I will free her from her imprisonment,” Conan said casually.
Both men stared at Conan and noted the faraway look in his eyes. Now that fulfillment of his dream was at hand, would he let the moment pass?
“Conan,” Mallory pressed. “Do not in a foolish moment allow the lady to think you do not want her.”
Conan laughed ruefully. “I first wanted her when she came to my pavilion at Anselm, but there were other things on my mind and I did not realize that my life would be empty without her love. Years have passed since that time. After all that has held us apart, do you think it will be easy for her to forget and come to me in love? KI kill her husband, can she forgive?” Conan shook his head and looked at his friends. “Time will tell if there will be any reward for us after all the evil we have seen.”
“You do the lady wrong, Sir Conan,” Mallory said. “You lectured me on love and called me the fool if I did not find a way to take my heart’s desires, in spite of difficulties. Now, will you be the fool?”
***
Chandra sat on the floor and stared into the fire. A fur pelt was the only buffer between her kirtle and the cold stone. She hugged her knees with her arms and wondered how many more of these long nights would pass before the door to her chamber came crashing open and Tedric’s guards rushed in to finish their work and kill her. She had heard Tedric give that order, but she would not be an easy victim. She imagined, with great hope, her rescue.
Chandra had looked down the jagged rocks outside her bedroom terrace and remembered clearly the night that Conan had come to her via that dangerous climb. She considered making that journey herself, but could not summon the courage to risk her life in such an attempt. And a guard had been posted down and far to the left of the rocks to witness any such climb. Tedric had anticipated her desperation.
The door to her chamber opened and a young maid from the town entered, carrying a tray of cold meats and hard bread. Chandra moved quickly to meet her. She could not remember the maid’s name. She took the tray and whispered, “Please, you can help me.”
“Nay, lady, I fear--”
“Listen,” Chandra pleaded. “My door. Watch my door, and when the guard moves away, tap lightly. I will flee--” The door, which had not closed behind the maid, squeaked as it was pushed farther open.
“Out!” the guard barked at the maid. The lass skittered fearfully from the room. “It will not work, lady,” he said to her. “I do not leave this post.”
Chandra’s fingers tightened about the tray in anger. “Why do you bother to feed me if it is your intention to murder me?” she asked tartly.
The guard chuckled. “Your husband would not have you starve,” he taunted.
In a fit of temper she hurled the metal tray at the guard, but he used her door as a shield and the thing never came close to hitting him. When her food and drink were scattered about the floor, he opened the door again and smiled tolerantly at her. “Your dinner is wasted.” He shrugged, closing the door behind him.
Fists clenched and face reddened with anger, she walked toward the door, looking down on the cold chicken that would have fed her. She thought to retrieve a piece but could only kick at it, scattering it farther, tears of frustration stinging in her eyes.
She sat again before the fire, hugging her knees to keep warm, her throat aching from holding back useless tears. Her ears caught a distant sound and she crept near the chamber door. There was no sound from the corridor. She listened another moment and heard the guard shift and grunt. She could not decide whether relief or disappointment would be in order. It did not sound as if they were coming to kill her now.
She settled again on the pelt, sighing in resignation. But again she heard the sound. She craned her neck to find the location. A soft scratching came to her ears. It came from the balcony and she went there swiftly, leaning her ears against the oaken door. A light tapping, so soft she could barely hear it, came from the other side. She tapped her fingernail against the thick oak and she was answered in kind: tap, tap, tap.
She leaned against the door and her mind raced. Conan! It had to be Conan! She felt a rush of fear and relief at once. What was his plan? The bolt had been removed from her chamber door, and the sound of the balcony doors opening would bring the guard. Did he intend to stand against the entire force that occupied the hall?
She had no alternative but to open the terrace doors as quietly as she could. There stood the one she expected! No sooner did she behold him than the door to her chamber opened. Conan backed away from her quickly with a finger to his lips. He silently mounted the balustrade, and she saw his intention to jump to the twin terrace. Hoping to hide the sound of his landing, she turned abruptly to the guard entering her room.
“And am I not even allowed a breath of fresh air?” she questioned tartly.
The guard smiled lazily and came to where she stood, brushing past her and going to the balustrade to look over. A torch lit far below to the left silho
uetted the guard who stood watch there. The sound of the water against the rocks was loud, but the first guard’s whistle alerted the second to look up to where Chandra stood. The man below raised an arm to signal he was alert and keeping his post.
“Don’t try to make my work easy for me, my lady,” the guard said. “It would be most difficult to find your body on the rocks below.”
“That would surely disappoint my lord husband,” she snapped. “And it would no doubt disappoint you as well, since you are so anxious for your chore.”
“You do me wrong, lady,” he said in feigned hurt. “It will not be an easy task to take the life of one so lovely.” He reached out to touch her soft cheek, but she jerked away from his hand. He laughed at her distaste.
The guard walked to the door of her bedchamber and turned once more in her direction. “Do not attempt the climb, lady. It is useless.”
“I value my life more than you think,” she returned. “I do not intend to make it easy for anyone to end it for me.”
He chuckled again and left her. Her breath came out in a sigh and she turned to look across the space between the balconies. Two figures rose from a supine position on the deck and stood. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes until she heard the soft thump of one man’s feet as he came safely across the space between the balconies. Conan stepped aside to make room for his companion’s flight, but Mallory did not make the jump as skillfully. He did not clear the balustrade and he grappled desperately for something to hold. Conan’s hands came out quickly to grab him, and Mallory found the lower ledge with his feet. He regained his balance and paused on the outside of the balustrade, his knuckles white and his arms stiff as he held on. He looked at Conan and whispered, “I am not going to do this again--for anyone.”