Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown

by Patricia Veryan

  They went downstairs again at last, and he rested one well-manicured hand upon the ten-foot-thick outer wall. "They built well," he observed, "else this great fortress she would not have so long survive the atrocious climate. But you, dear mademoiselle"—he turned suddenly to Charity—"do not view my castle with pleasure, I think."

  She had been pondering on how unfortunate it was that two burly footmen were bringing up the rear, but she responded without hesitation that she preferred gentler structures, gentler climes, gentler people.

  With an amused smile he said,"And how unfortunate that I am about to show you my war room, which is not so gentle as the chambers we have seen thus far. Still, Mr. Rivers will find it interesting, perhaps."

  He led them to the basement, the corridor now brightly lit, and along the length of it to the room at the end with the double doors Charity had seen earlier. It was a vast and chilly apartment, hung with every imaginable type of weapon, from a slingshot to a very modern rifle that brought a brief consternation to Redmond.

  "By Jove!" he exclaimed, walking over to inspect it. "I'd heard about these. Didn't know they'd been perfected."

  "Not perfected, exactly," purred Claude, "but—"

  "Monsewer." A beefy man with a coarse English accent slouched into the room, and Charity's heart gave a frenzied jump. "Cap'n Elkins wants as—" He halted, his craggy features reflecting shocked recognition. Crouching, he snarled, "Redmond!"

  Mitchell was already leaping forward. A derringer flashed into his hand, and gripping Claude by the hair, he jammed the little pistol under his ear.

  Eyes round with shock, Claude shrieked,"Kill him! Dolts! Mindless clods! Kill him!''

  The newcomer started forward. '"E can only shoot once with that there toy!"

  ''Stay where you are, Shotten!'' Guy waved him to a halt. "That 'once' will kill my brother."

  "Tell 'em to drop their pistols," ordered Redmond curtly. He twisted his hand in the black hair when Claude was silent, and added in a voice of steel, "They may kill me, friend, but if I go, you go with me, sans doute."

  His face twisting with pain and rage, Claude gasped, "Do as he says."

  Reluctantly, three pistols were dropped.

  "You cannot get away!" Claude shrilled. "Fool! Imbecile! Do you not know you are a dead man?"

  Redmond jerked his head at the pistols. "Pick them up, please, ma'am, and keep them for me. We may have need of 'em."

  She ran to obey, but with one of those unlikely and inexplicable mischances that so often occur to disrupt man's schemes, fate intervened. One of the pistols that had been flung down was old and not as well cared for as it should have been. The hammer, which had been thumbed back, had remained so, and chose this of all moments to snap down. The shot rang out deafeningly, just as Charity reached for the weapon. Her nerves, already ragged, betrayed her into a squeal of fright. Redmond thought she had been hit, and his horrified gaze darted to her, the derringer wavering for just a split second.

  It was the opening Sanguinet needed. With all his strength, he drove his elbow under Redmond's ribs and wrenched free. Redmond staggered, fighting nausea as he tried to restore his aim. Shotten leapt forward, uttering a howl of triumph. His fist struck down hard, and the derringer was smashed from Redmond's hand. Shotten's hamlike left whipped savagely for Redmond's jaw, but the slighter man dodged nimbly aside. His right hand was useless, but his left came up in an immediate reprisal.

  The two footmen, however, were upon him. They seized him from behind, wrenching his arms back, one of them swinging his fist high.

  Claude shouted a frantic, "Don't hurt him!" Then, seeing Redmond helpless, he added softly, "Yet."

  Guy, who had rushed to Charity, slipped an arm about her. "You are all right, little one?" he asked anxiously.

  She felt sick with shock and fear, and, clinging to him, whispered, "My… fault. My fault. Oh, Guy, they'll kill him!"

  "Not until they discover how much he knows. How much Diccon knows. Who is in this with him." A small moan escaped Charity. Tightening his arm, Guy muttered, "He had to come. What folly!"

  Claude had been carefully tidying his hair. He now stepped closer to Redmond, peering up into the high-held proud countenance. "So you are brother to dear Sir Harry," he murmured. "If you knew… if you but knew how I have yearned for this moment."

  Redmond said a cool, "I also, monsieur."

  "The word is monseigneur." Claude spoke the correction in a low voice that rang oddly. "Say it."

  Redmond sighed. "Alas, my French is as poor as your English. I had thought monseigneur applied to a prince or a cardinal. Not to a lunatic."

  Claude's eyes began to glow with the red light that Charity dreaded to see. He nodded, his smile striking terror into her heart. "Oh, but I shall teach you," he promised softly.

  "Claude," said Guy, "I am going to take Miss Strand out."

  "Au contraire, dear brother. You are going to remain. Miss Strand is going to remain. She knew who this vermin was, did you not, my sly little English actress?"

  With an odd detachment, Charity thought, "It doesn't matter now. Whatever we do or say, he will kill us both. That's why Mr. Redmond was defiant just now. He knows it makes no difference. And if he can be so brave, I must try." She heard her own voice reply, "Yes, I knew."

  "This was quite logical," Claude said, surprisingly. "I forgive you it. My brother knew also, however. Did you not, Guy? Of course you did. You were there—a witness—when Parnell left his task half finished. This I shall not forgive, but we will deal with it later.'' His sparkling eyes turned back to Redmond. "Why, how pale you are become, my dear friend. Is it because I mentioned my late brother?" He stepped a pace closer, the footmen gripping Redmond's arms brutally. "Parnell," said Claude, "was the only creature in this world for whom I had a fondness. And your brother, your miserable worm of a brother, killed him! I swore I would be revenged. Did you know that when you crept in here, you sneaking spy?"

  "Parnell was an unmitigated, murdering rogue," said Redmond. "Harry was trying to protect the girl Parnell was terrorizing, but he did not—"

  Claude drew back his hand and smashed it hard into Redmond's face. Charity smothered a sob as Redmond sagged against the men who held him.

  Claude smiled. "I waste no more time. You brought me a book. You said it was Diccon's book. Was it?"

  Redmond heard the words dimly. His head rang, and he could taste blood. He said thickly, "Yes."

  "Do you know," purred Claude, "I think I do not quite believe this. Why would you give me a notebook you knew to be of such great value?''

  Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, Redmond answered, "It got me in here."

  "And you gave it me in exactly the same condition as when you received it?"

  Redmond lifted his head and looked this maniac squarely in the eye. He said with a faint grin, "Why, Claude, are you accusing me of forgery?"

  Guy swore under his breath. Charity bit her lip and shrank, waiting for Claude to strike again. Instead, the hot glare in the brown eyes faded. He murmured, "Such admirable courage. Such staunch devotion I find difficult to comprehend. Why, Redmond? Why should an intelligent, educated man such as yourself be willing to risk all for that—that fat little German fool? Do you so revere him?"

  "Yes. Because he is not an individual. To all intents and purposes, he is England."

  It was said quietly and without bravado, but Charity's heart swelled with pride. She said clearly, "Bravo!"

  Claude smiled at her. "Guy," he called, "be so kind as to bring Miss Strand over here."

  Charity's knees turned to water. She saw Redmond's tense face turn to her. The side of his mouth was bleeding a little. She thought, "I must not make him ashamed for me."

  Frowning, Guy said, "I shall not see her harmed, Claude."

  "But, my dear, how can you think such wickedness of me? Of course I shall not hurt her. It is quite unnecessary that I do so. Mr. Redmond is going to tell me every detail I want to know—I promise you.
"

  Guy murmured, "Be brave, little one," and led her forward.

  "There," said Claude, rubbing his hands together and beaming from one to the other of them. "Now we can all be comfortable and not have to lift up the voices. Dear little Miss Strand, you have the fortitude most admirable. But you have also too much trust, you know. Let me explain this. We have here"—he waved a graceful white hand toward Redmond—"a fine example of British manhood. He has looks, birth, breeding, and you see him as a manly, brave fellow, oui?"

  "I think him very brave indeed," she said, her heart fluttering frantically against her ribs.

  "Would you believe me," said Claude, all benevolence, "if I say that within ten minutes—less perhaps—this so-called brave man will kneel before me? Will grovel? Will tell me each detail I ask? Will betray his king, his country, his family? Will even plead that I question you instead of himself?"

  Charity slanted a quick glance at Redmond. He stood very still, watching Claude levelly. "No, sir," she said. "That I would not believe."

  " Ah. So—I must prove what I say." He beckoned to Shotten, who had stood with his head slightly tilted, watching the quiet drama as one somewhat perplexed by it all. Claude turned aside a little, murmuring something into Shotten's ear. The big man began to grin, laughed, looked at Redmond, and walked to a corner of the room.

  Charity was trembling. She felt Guy's hand tighten on her elbow. She saw Shotten take something from the wall and come back. At first she thought the object he carried was a long-tined broom of some kind, but as he came closer she saw it to be a multithonged whip, and for an instant the room blurred before her eyes.

  His grin exultant, his eyes very bright, Claude said, "Do you know, Redmond, you do not look well. I wonder if perhaps you are… remembering?"

  Redmond said nothing, but his gaze was fixed unblinkingly on that murderous whip, and suddenly his face was drawn and white as chalk.

  ''You may let him go,'' said Claude."He will do nothing. You see, he is too frightened.'' He took the whip from Shotten, and the footmen stepped back.

  ''I wonder,'' Claude said, "if you really came here to save Miss Strand. If so, I expect you labour under that strange delusion that men of your stamp call l'amour.''

  Redmond shook his head.

  ''You must not lie to me any more,'' chided Claude. ''Do you know, Miss Strand, this poor fellow is acquainted with one of these. See—" He reached out and shook the whip in Redmond's face.

  Flinging one arm before his eyes, Redmond fairly leapt back.

  Claude laughed delightedly. "You see? He is terrified. I shall tell you why. It happened—oh, one year ago, or thereabouts. My beloved brother, Parnell, had a ward he admired deeply. An annoying chit, but he planned to make her his bride. Harry Redmond had the gall, the unmitigated insolence, to persuade her that Parnell was a bad man, and so frightened her that she ran away with him. Parnell followed, naturellement. When he came up with their camp, Harry was gone and had left this fine fellow to guard Annabelle. She knew that she had been very naughty, and she was afraid she might be spanked, so she hid. Now, my Parnell had a little— just a trace you understand—of the temper. And he did not propose to spend a great time searching the woods for his capricious lady. So he tied Sir Harry's brave brother to a cart, and he whipped him until Annabelle heard how this hero screamed, and came back. To save him."

  Her eyes enormous in her pale face, Charity stared at him.

  So that was how Redmond's back had been so brutally scarred! Appalled, she kept her eyes from Redmond, but she knew that he was standing with his head downbent.

  Guy said in a strained voice,"He did not make one sound, Claude. You know this."

  "I saw Mr. Redmond's back, Monsieur Sanguinet," said Charity. "I wonder he did not die."

  "It is a pity," sighed Claude. "But we shall take up where my dear Parnell left off. Or would you prefer to tell me now, my dauntless Briton?" Again, he shook the whip and, again, Redmond shrank, one hand lifting protectively.'' Look at the pride of it," said Claude, laughing. "Will you not observe the valour? Do you not find it pathetic, mademoiselle?"

  Redmond's dark head sank lower. His fists were tight-clenched, but he neither moved nor spoke.

  Hilarious, Claude said, "Do you—do you know what he has been doing this year and more? He has been roving Europe, fighting, womanizing, getting himself such a wicked reputation as a rake and a duellist—no? No! He has been trying to prove he is still a man! And now—here we are again, brave one. Another lady to watch you whine and crawl. Another whip. Is it worth it, eh?"

  Redmond's head came up. He leapt for Claude, but was pulled back, his arms twisted so savagely that he gasped with the pain. "Damn you…"he said brokenly. "Damn you! Face me man to man—with swords or pistols, or bare hands, if you've the—"

  "Nonsense! I do not play silly heroics. You will tell me now. You did tamper with my book, did you not? You changed some of the entries.''

  Redmond watched, haggard-eyed, as Claude swung the whip lazily, the thongs swishing in a faintly metallic whisper. Hypnotized, he muttered, "I—did."

  Charity winced and had to turn away.

  "And the matter of Admiral Deal's treachery. This was your invention?"

  Redmond was silent. One of the footmen shoved him and said contemptuously, "You should have a care, monseigneur. I think he will very soon faint.''

  They all enjoyed this witticism, while Charity blinked away tears, Redmond's eyes closed and his head bowed low, and Guy stood very still, face grim.

  Without warning, Claude cracked the whip so that just the tips of the steel-laced thongs touched his victim's chest. Redmond jerked back against the footmen's restraining arms. His voice a harsh croak he admitted, "Yes. I altered it."

  "Now that," said Claude, sobering, "was very bad in you. You see, a brave man you are not, but an actor you are. I believed you when first you came here. And thus, Gerard carries with him the Admiral's death warrant. I fear I cannot at all hope to countermand that order, and the Admiral was useful. I am vexed with you, Redmond. But, we must proceed. Now—there was very much in Diccon's little book that was quite the—what is it you say?—the eye-opener. It would be only sensible for you to make a copy for yourself, no? So that when you go back in triumph to London, having slain this wicked dragon that is Claude Sanguinet, you may lay your so dangerous proofs at the feet of your foolish Prince. So you see, I must ask, did you make a copy, my friend? Did you?"

  Redmond shook his head, perspiration streaking down his agonized face.

  Smiling, Claude trod closer yet, the whip lifting.

  "Don't…" Mitchell whispered, shrinking back. "Please… please don't."

  Claude swept the whip high. And frenziedly, Redmond cried, "I copied it!"

  Gripping her hands together and pressing them against her trembling lips, Charity prayed.

  Amused, Claude said, "Do you see now of what stuff heroes are made, my dear? This whimpering apology for a man would cut your heart out if I asked it." And turning back to his victim, he demanded, "Where is the book you copied? Speak up, Sir Gallantry. Where is it?"

  Redmond's head was low again, but he did not answer. Charity could guess the shame he must be feeling, and she felt an aching pity for him.

  "Do you know," Claude murmured, enjoying himself hugely, "I believe that now I shall prove a point." Swinging the whip, he strolled towards Charity. "Watch, Redmond, and give me my answer when you tire of hearing this innocent girl scream…"

  "Like hell I will!"

  Two startled footmen found that the shaking craven they so contemptuously held had become a wild man. With a primeval growl Redmond tore free from their careless clasp, caught an arm of each man, and swung with a strength bom of fury. Two rogues came suddenly and violently eye to eye and, groaning, clutched their battered faces.

  Whirling about, Claude swung the whip and sent it hissing at Redmond's back. Charity heard the crack as those wicked thongs landed. She saw Redmond's slim body arch, his h
ead jerking back. Claude laughed shrilly and swung up the whip again.

  Guy leapt to catch one of the whirling thongs and tugged with all his strength. The whip was wrenched from Claude's hand and sent spinning into a far corner. With an incoherent snarl of fury, Claude turned on his brother.

  Through his teeth, Guy said, "You have threatened those I love, kept me in subjugation, shamed me all my life. But, by God, I'll not stand for this!"

  Claude's hand darted to an inner pocket.

  Propelled by the accumulated misery of long wretched years, Guy's fist came up. It landed hard and true. Claude did a little backward leap into the air and lay down before he touched the floor.

  The two footmen, meanwhile, recovering and enraged, had plunged at Redmond. He met them eagerly, dealt out a whizzing left and sent one staggering, but was himself half stunned by a mighty uppercut that reduced the room to a shimmer and brought a deafening roar into his ears. He reeled blindly.

  Grinning, the second footman snatched a heavy fourteenth-century mace from the wall and advanced, lifting the spiked iron weapon with both hands.

  Guy was engaged in a desperate battle with Shotten. Frantic, Charity also purloined a weapon from Claude's prized collection, and the footman gave a shriek as she drove the spear home. Dropping his mace, he clutched his wounded dignity and spun to confront Charity. His face contorted with rage and pain, he ran at her. Frightened, but still holding her spear level, she retreated.

  Redmond shook the mists from his brain, came up behind the footman, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Pardon," he said politely.

  The footman whirled into a right that came at his chin like a sledgehammer, and he sank from the fray.

  ''Look out!'' screamed Charity.

  Not lacking courage, the first footman was doggedly returning to the attack. Redmond laughed and dispensed a left jab which sent the man to join his friend on the floor.

  In the other contest Shotten's hamlike fist had sent Guy reeling back. Shotten followed with a sizzling right jab. It was blocked. From some unsuspected reserve of strength, Guy summoned an uppercut that caught Shotten squarely under the chin, and the big man went down with a crash.