Desiree

by Roberta Gellis

  “Who is Pollock?” Alinor asked, hoping to provide some ease for her by introducing a side issue.

  “Pollock was Frewyn’s servant. He was very devoted to his master and he was utterly distraught over the thought that he had slept when Frewyn called for help. The poor man went to Alex to beg him to order that he be whipped for failing in his duty. Alex,” Desiree smiled very faintly, “Alex has a very soft heart and he told Pollock that he was not at fault but had been drugged.”

  “Drugged? The servant was drugged so Sir Frewyn could be killed?”

  “No, they were all drugged. Frewyn, Elias—our steward, and Frewyn’s old friend—and Pollock. Frewyn, who was weak, died of it. Elias nearly died—he slept two nights and a day, and his breathing faltered at times. Pollock slept too, but he is younger and stronger.”

  She went on to tell Alinor the whole tale.

  “Oh, I hoped that the medicine I sent would help. Were you afraid to try because of what I said about shortening life? My grandmother had half a year of feeling almost well before it failed to help.”

  Desiree found another faint smile. “The medicine worked a wonder. Frewyn was able to talk in whole sentences again. We were looking forward to playing chess and my reading to him. That was why I never thought Frewyn asked for the sleeping potion.” She blushed. “I…I suspected Alex. And he suspected me! Which was why neither of us said anything or even tried to catch Vachel.”

  “You suspected Alex of murder? Murder of his overlord? Why would he do such a thing?”

  Desiree blushed a fiery red. “Because he wanted me.”

  “But if you were already loving one another—”

  “No!” Desiree exclaimed. “Oh, no. No. Never. Once—only once, we kissed. And that was an accident. Oh, I never would. I loved Frewyn. Even now…” Tears filled her eyes and ran over. “Even now when Alex and I do…love. I miss Frewyn so much. I am forever thinking that I will tell him and how he would laugh at our stratagems.” She met Alinor’s eyes. “He was the father I never had, and I was the daughter he always wanted. Still, marriage vows are marriage vows. I would never sin so, nor leave my dearling Frewyn open to unkind jests.”

  “I see. So you and Alex determined that neither you nor he was guilty, and this Pollock… What did he discover?”

  Desiree sighed. “He questioned the menservants who sleep in the hall and several remembered that Vachel had walked past Frewyn’s door. The flagon of wine was standing outside because Pollock would never leave Frewyn alone, lest he fall and not be able to right himself. Elias was with me in the room of records so Pollock could not himself take the flagon to be filled. Father Harold gave it to a servant. Farman filled it and put it on the table by the door. Vachel was the only one who passed close by the flagon.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Of course we are not sure. Alex was as sick with grief as I over Frewyn. If we had been sure, I think Alex would have pursued Vachel and killed him, but by the time Pollock told us, Vachel was long gone. Alex knew Vachel wanted to escape Exceat, but to kill Frewyn only to cause enough confusion for him to leave? Does that seem sane?”

  “No,” Alinor said calmly, “but all that means is that—if he did it—he had a reason we do not understand. Or do we?” Her eyes lit with gleams of gold and green.

  “Do you understand?” Desiree asked anxiously.

  Alinor shook her head and said she was no more sure than Desiree, but she had an idea. Then she patted Desiree on the shoulder, said she should try to sleep and left the solar. She made her way purposefully to the chamber in which Vachel was lodged and went through his baggage most thoroughly. Buried under and within his clothing, Alinor found a number of packets of powder.

  Likely it was nervous work being a spy and a man might need help to sleep. But a strong sleeping potion had killed Frewyn. Likely they were all sleeping powders and Vachel would wonder why his nostrums no longer worked, but Alinor was determined to take no chances. She carried all the packets off to the stillroom. She did not know any quick way to test the contents and after a moment of thought, she decided to be rid of everything.

  It had occurred to her that Vachel might be worse than a spy. He might be an assassin. She and Simon had enraged Prince John, who had wanted to marry her to a favorite of his. John had taken her prisoner and attempted to rape her when he learned she was already married. She had injured more than his dignity when she fought him off and then Simon had rescued her before John could take a revenge.

  John was not the kind to forget such injuries. No doubt he believed he could still have his revenge on her by marrying her to a man who would mistreat or kill her, but to do that Simon would first have to be dead. It was no wonder that Vachel was not interested in the defenses of the harbor or the mustering of troops. Moreover, if Simon died, the defense of all of Sussex would be damaged, which would be to John’s advantage. Yes, John’s man would try to kill Simon.

  She discarded everything and replaced the powders with the remedy she used to relieve the bleeding gums and sores on the skin that afflicted many by the end of winter. Then she replaced everything as it had been in Vachel’s bags. Perhaps, she thought, frowning, Vachel should have a fatal accident. Then she sighed. She knew Simon would be very angry if she ordered a man killed for no more reason than suspicion he was John’s man.

  Before she had too much time to worry about less subtle methods of attacking Simon than poison, Alex caught her and asked anxious questions about Desiree. She soothed him by saying it was a common woman’s trouble, not dangerous in any way, and, of course, as soon as he was assured that Desiree was well, the whole tale of his unconquerable passion for her and his unworthiness and unfitness poured out of him.

  “I cannot move her,” he finished. “She says that Frewyn promised she could marry whom she would after he was dead, and she has a quit-claim for the fine to marry as she wills, signed and sealed by the king. God knows how Frewyn got that.”

  Alinor laughed. “Oh, Richard was selling everything and anything when he left for the Holy Land. I bought the office of sheriff of Sussex for Simon at that time.”

  Alex made little sense of that, intent on his confession. He said, “And she says she will have me! Simon warned me not to take advantage of her, but…but…she is so very lovely and clever and desirable. I tried. More than once I begged to be allowed to come here and ask Simon to send another castellan—”

  “Idiot,” Alinor said flatly. “You will make her a good husband. You will not try to steal from her, money or power, or cow her by pain as another might.”

  “That is true,” he admitted, and then cried, “but I have nothing. If I had even one poor farm—”

  Alinor opened her mouth but did not speak because a boy came racing unto the hall and gasped, “Horsemen, m’lady, with Sir Simon’s banner.” And Alinor jumped up and ran without even the courtesy of a farewell. Alex was not offended. He was hard on her heels and both were waiting when Simon rode in with a substantial troop of foot soldiers following.

  Alex sprang forward to take hold of Simon’s horse, always a tricky business because the fighting stallions either could not tell the difference between their rider dismounting or falling to a blow or, which Alex suspected, they just liked to bite and kick and cause a near riot. He seized the bit in an ungentle hand, preventing the horse from biting him, charging forward, or leaping up while Simon was trying to reach the ground. And when his lord was safe in his lady’s fond embrace, led the horse away.

  There was no sense in hurrying from the stable. Alex had seen the flush in Simon’s face, the grip in which Alinor held him. Alex bit his lip as his own body responded to the knowledge of how they would satisfy the passion engendered by their separation. He glanced toward the third floor of the keep where Desiree must be and then blushed with shame. Had he not just told Lady Alinor that he was poor and unfit… And she had called him an idiot.

  He stood, blinking, and then began to groom Anturio. The great gray stallion remembered his
scent and graciously allowed the attention. If Lady Alinor wished him to be Desiree’s husband… Alex swallowed and began to tremble. Simon was also poor compared to his wife. Perhaps…

  When Anturio gleamed like the best silver, Alex made his way to the great hall and sat down on a bench by the fire. Not long after, Simon and Alinor came from the solar, both heavy eyed and looking so sated that Alex was aroused again. Simon took the high chair and Alinor sat on a stool, leaning against his thigh. She smiled slightly and rubbed her face along his leg, but she was also clearly listening while he described his journey and Sir Henry’s successful recruiting.

  Simon’s business in Kingsclere had gone exactly to plan, so what he had to say did not take long. Then it was Alex’s turn. But when Alex started to confess to becoming Desiree’s lover, Simon cut him off.

  “First things first,” he said. “Lady Desiree may be important to you, but the state of the coast is more important to me.”

  So Alex reported on his training of the fisherfolk and the apprentices and journeymen, reported on the installation of signal fires on the heights from Seaford east to past Cuckhaven, south of Frist’s farm.

  “There is a gap in the hills there,” he finished, “and beyond is a sandy beach—”

  “I have taken care for that,” Simon said. “Pevensey has manned a tower and will keep watch. But in the other direction, west of Seaford is Newhaven.”

  “I have set a watch on the east bank of the Ouse so that I—or whomever you appoint as castellan for Exceat—will have word if ships go up the river. But if Prince John does not attack and try to sack the town, Newhaven will not fight. They will allow the ships to sail right up to Lewes. And Lewes cannot fight.”

  “Cannot? Or will not?”

  “Well, will not while Sir Nicolaus ruled there, but he is gone and has moved most of the garrison and supplies to Telscombe, so cannot is closer to the truth now. Lewes is closed. I sent one of the older and cleverer men-at-arms up there after Frewyn died on the pretext of announcing his death, but Lewes was shut tight and whoever was on guard would not let my man in. Still, he rode round the place and looked. He does not believe that Lewes could be defended against more than a token attack.”

  Simon leaned back in his chair, one hand idly caressing Alinor’s neck. “Nicolaus took Telscombe between the time that King Henry died in France and Richard came from there to England. I suppose he took the place to have lands of his own because he not only took Telscombe but killed the holder who had no heirs. I was not sheriff of Sussex then, and it was not my business.”

  “And once he knew his treachery was discovered and that Warenne would likely dismiss him, he moved to Telscombe, deliberately leaving Lewes nearly defenseless.”

  “Hmm.” Simon slipped a hand under Alinor’s veil and stroked her hair. She arched her body slightly like a cat, but his eyes were intent on Alex. “Stripping Lewes has a certain advantage for others too. If Telscombe is attacked, Lewes can send no aid. But Telscombe in Nicolaus’s hands is a danger to England. Below Telscombe Keep is a port, small but safe, which would provide a good foothold for Brother John.”

  Alex’s face got tight and grim. “And men could be marched up the west bank of the river where likely my watchers on the east bank would never see them.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Simon paused, looked into nothing for a moment and then asked, “How would you like to look around Telscombe and tell me just how hard a nut it would be to crack? And, of course, if you see a way to crack it, since it is in the hands of a traitor, it would he only reasonable for you to do it. It would be a good way to blood your new men. And as sheriff I could approve your seizure of the keep and lands from a known traitor.”

  Alinor stirred against Simon’s leg, lifting her head and looking with a troubled expression at Alex. Alex did not notice. He was staring at Simon as if he were an angel descended from heaven.

  “But, my lord,” he protested softly, “if you order me to take Telscombe Keep, it is rightfully yours.”

  “But you are not sworn to me and you have not heard me give such an order, have you?” Simon asked, looking innocently into the distance. “The castellan to Lady Desiree, who is a vassal of the king’s, would surely watch the sudden stuffing and garnishing of a neighboring keep. A loyal man of King Richard must surely see the danger to England of a known traitor holding Telscombe. It would be an act of loyalty and good sense to remove an enemy of the king from such a place, even without any order.”

  “If it is possible without too much danger,” Alinor said sharply. “It would be no benefit to the king if a loyal man should die in an undermanned and ill-supplied attempt.”

  Chapter Twenty

  When Vachel returned from the farm on the north slope, he found Simon at home at last. He made a profound bow and spoke with considerable sincerity of his joy in finally meeting his uncle. His relief really was heartfelt. At last he would be able to kill the man, fulfill his pledge to Prince John, and flee to Telscombe where Nicolaus would see him to a ship.

  Simon was polite but not particularly cordial, asking what brought Vachel to England. Vachel’s heart sank. He had hoped that Alinor would have told Simon the tale he had spun for her. Now he would need to repeat the story with Alex listening. Vachel took a deep breath. It was not so different a tale from that he had told in Exceat.

  “I came to mend a quarrel with Alex and to tell him that our father wanted him to return to Lessai. I have an opportunity to be taken into the household of a great noble and my father wanted two sons at home. Alex felt his duty to you and to Lady Desiree was more important than his blood-born duty to our father.”

  Simon raised his brows and for a moment Vachel hoped he would speak for the duty of blood, but then he laughed. “I agree with Alex. I heard that your elder brother is already the father of two sons. The succession seems to be assured.” Simon shrugged. “So what will you do now?”

  Vachel painted a smile on his face. To say he wished to return to France might get him put on a ship too soon. “There is no hurry about my taking up the position offered to me. I had thought to spend some time in England, but the money my father gave me is running short. Perhaps I could serve you in some way, Uncle?”

  Alex, who shared a bench with Desiree, had fallen silent the moment Vachel entered the hall, although he had been speaking with some intensity when Vachel peered through the doorway. Alex might have been reading his mind so swollen was he with rage. Vachel shrugged.

  “My brother is not pleased with my hope to serve you, I can see. Well, the truth is that we never got along in Lessai. I was older and perhaps not as kind as I should have been—and Alex holds grudges. We are best apart, but since Alex is castellan at Exceat, I will annoy him little if I am here in Roselynde.”

  “It is something to think about,” Simon said neutrally.

  He lifted the cup of ale he had in his hand and might have said more, but a servant rushed over to refill the goblet. An unpleasant qualm passed through Vachel. His uncle was not nearly as welcoming as he had expected, judging from all that Simon had done for Alex. It was Alex, always Alex. If he was here, everything would go wrong unless he acted as quickly as possible.

  Into an awkward silence Alinor said, “I have not forgotten that you mentioned favoring venison over lamb. I have already mentioned it to my huntsman. Tomorrow he will have sighted game for us.”

  Vachel made some enthusiastic answer, and went on to talk excitedly about hunting. Simon mentioned that King Henry had been a passionate huntsman, and Vachel pleaded for hunting tales of the late king, so Simon filled the time until the tables were set up for the evening meal with stories of the hunt and then more general tales of the fierce energy of the old king.

  Alinor’s suggestion of a hunt was ideal for Vachel’s purpose. It offered an opportunity for him to be alone in the keep and be free to use his poisons. He need only plead illness when the others left for the hunt. After all his enthusiasm, no one would suspect it was an excuse.

&n
bsp; Vachel ate the evening meal and then pleaded fatigue from his ride. Alinor and Simon then thanked him for his service in the hearing of the servants, which to his mind was proof that he was in favor and would do no harm. Vachel bowed and retired.

  He closed and barred the door, not wanting any intruder to see that he was packing everything of value. Vachel paused a moment and thought about whether he could spare Alinor. Prince John wanted to deal with her himself. But he dared not. If all of them became deathly ill after he had left, there would be no one to blame him or to organize a chase after him.

  He took out and examined his packets of drugs. After a moment’s thought, he quickly mixed the contents of all the packets together. He was taking no more chances. The mixture of drugs, certain to be fatal, would go into the flagons that served the high table at dinner. And best of all, Alex would die too. Vachel took a deep breath, smiled, and got into bed.

  When Gertrude came to wake him to join the hunt and he groaned that he had been stricken with a terrible headache for which the only help was a sleeping potion and a dark room, Gertrude showed no suspicion. In fact, she offered to bring him a sleeping potion and when he said he had his own, carried a cup of wine to him.

  He had lain quietly in the dark, listening to the bustle of those making ready to hunt, listening to the horns blowing and the excited barking of the hounds and, at last, the dimming and absence of those sounds. Still he waited, then cautiously slipped to his door and looked out. The hall was all but empty. He closed the door again, lit a candle and began to dress.

  Not long after, he came down to the kitchen to beg for a breakfast and complain almost tearfully about missing the hunt. One of the cooks assured him that he probably could catch up to them. Since they were hunting for the table more than for sport, it was possible the game would be driven toward them and they would not go far.