The Du Lac Devil: Book 2 of The Du Lac Chronicles

by Mary Yarde

  “Amandine, I need to get you inside,” Merton whispered against her face. “It is getting cold.” He kissed her cheek softly, but she wasn’t responding to his words. Merton had seen such a condition many times before, especially in the wounded after a battle. They were alive, but they were not in this world. They were living in the shadows and for some, they never came out from the dark again. He would not allow that to happen to Amandine.

  Her dress was in tatters, exposing her skin to the cool night air. “He tore your dress. You are going to have to wear my cloak.” Merton tried to move her so he could reach the brooch that held his cloak together. But her grip on him tightened considerably.

  Wann, who was leaning casually against a tree watching them, stepped forward and removed his fur cloak, tossing it at Merton. Without saying a word of thanks, Merton picked up the cloak and placed it gently around Amandine’s shoulders.

  “Where were you?” Merton asked in Saxon. His rage with Wann had not abated with the passage of time.

  “Watching your brother, your King, being attacked by a detachment of men in du Lac uniforms. I thought you would want to make sure he was unharmed. I always thought he was your priority, not some spoilt little wealthy lady, who was asking for trouble.”

  “She wasn’t asking for trouble. She was carrying out Budic’s orders.” Merton tried to keep his voice light so not to scare Amandine, but he had to fight the urge not to stand up and hit Wann from here until next Sunday. “Be careful of your words when you speak of her.”

  “I can speak any way I choose fit to speak. You are not my master. I have no master,” Wann said scornfully.

  “I paid you to do a job,” Merton reminded him.

  “And I did it,” Wann stated and then he sighed deeply, shaking his head as he did so. “Merton, you misunderstand me. I wasn’t talking about Budic. It was Alden that I saw being attacked.”

  Merton raised his head and looked at Wann in shock. “What?”

  “That is what I saw,” Wann said. “That is why, for the briefest of moments, I took my eyes off your woman.”

  “Where is he?” Merton’s voice trembled. Why would Philippe do such a thing? It didn’t make sense. To attack the King of Cerniw was asking for war, surely he knew that?

  “They took him to the dungeons, although he didn’t go quietly.”

  Merton swore a few curse words that he usually saved for the heat of battle. “Go back to camp. Tell Yrre it is time to leave.”

  “You can tell him yourself,” Wann stated and then he paused, a frown marring his face. “Surely you are not considering going back in there?”

  “I need to get a few things from my room, and she needs a change of clothes. And then I will follow.”

  “You are lying. You don’t need anything from your room. And she can borrow something of Emma’s. Or is your princess too high and mighty to wear a soldier’s wife’s clothes?”

  “If you value your life Wann, you will shut up, right now,” Merton said, at the same time he tightened his hold on Amandine while she hiccupped on another soul-wrenching sob.

  “If I valued my life I wouldn’t be with you,” Wann instantly retorted and then he chuckled softly into the darkness. “Obviously, I don’t value my life very much. Merton, promise me you won’t do anything rash. You cannot get your brother out of the dungeons. You know you cannot. Alden would not ask you to sacrifice yourself to save him. Listen to me,” Wann stepped closer. “Whatever scheme is floating around in that head of yours, stop and think carefully before you implement it. Those soldiers who took your brother were out for blood. Do not start to believe the things they say about you. Even you cannot take on an army on your own and win.”

  “I will follow you as soon as I am able,” Merton replied.

  Wann did not stay to say anything else. He had said all he needed to say. It was up to Merton as to whether he listened to his advice or not.

  Merton watched Wann leave until he was swallowed up by the darkness. He closed his eyes for a moment. Alden in the dungeons was a complication he could have done without. He would have to get him out of there, somehow. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it would be near on impossible. But he would be damned if he would let his brother die in some stinking cell in what was once their father’s castle. He would break him out, or he would die trying.

  32

  Amandine had lost all sense of time and place. All she knew was that she was in Merton’s arms, and she was safe and for now, that was enough. She protested loudly when, after several long minutes of walking, he placed her gently back on her feet, although he kept his arms around her, holding her close.

  “We are going in through the tunnel. It is the easiest way in, and we won’t be subjected to gossip or speculation. Jenison is dead, and the last thing I want to happen is for you to be accused of his murder.”

  She didn’t understand what Merton was saying. She could hear his voice but not his words. And then the unthinkable happened — Merton’s face seemed to distort before her eyes, it changed until it wasn’t Merton she was looking at. Jenison was looking at her with that evil, and lust filled look in his eyes. And he was speaking, hissing her name over and over. She could see in his face what he wanted to do to her. But he would not have her. He would not. She struggled in his arms, desperate to get away. The arms dropped from around her, and she had her freedom. Not thinking, she began to run. She didn’t get very far before a strong, but gentle arm, wrapped around her middle. She turned in Jenison’s arms and began to hit him. Her fists balled as she punched him again and again in the chest, sobbing as she did so.

  “It’s me,” Merton spoke with desperation as he grabbed her hands, for his Amandine could whack a mighty wallop when she wanted to. “It’s me. You are safe,” he tried to reassure. “You are safe. I am not going to hurt you.”

  She stopped struggling and looked into his face. “Merton?” She looked wildly around her, not knowing where she was. Not knowing how she got here.

  “Sshh, my love, be calm, it’s over.”

  “Jenison?” her voice broke on that monsters name.

  “He’s dead. He can’t hurt you. I promise.”

  “Merton,” she sobbed his name, and he let go of her hands and took her into his embrace. She clung tightly to him and pushed her body up against his. It was as if she wanted to crawl into him, to hide under his skin.

  “We are going to go back to the castle, and we are going to pack your things and then you are coming with me.”

  “Don’t leave me,” she begged as he loosened his hold on her. “I couldn’t bear it. I can’t bear it. Merton…”

  “I’m not going to leave you,” Merton reassured. “Please believe that.” He kissed her softly on the forehead and pulled away from her a little so he could look into her face. “Do you understand? Do you believe me?”

  Amandine looked into his face, her eyes full of tears. She found she couldn’t speak so she nodded her answer and then sniffed back her tears.

  “Good,” Merton said, as he gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Come on,” he took her hand in his and together they made their way to the tunnel entrance.

  “Philippe has control of the army,” Amandine whimpered, clutching hold of Merton’s arm with her free hand, as she remembered what Jenison had told her.

  “I am so proud of you. You did so well,” Merton praised, trying his best to sound surprised. He dared not tell her he already knew. It would make her suffering all the more pronounced.

  “Budic must be dead,” Amandine said, her voice shook as she spoke. “Jenison said Philippe had…” She began to cry again.

  “Well, I have to admit I’m relieved. It saves me from killing him for putting you in such a position.”

  “Budic is dead,” she said again. Everything had changed. The King was dead, as was the Queen. Was this the end of the world?

  “Last I heard Budic was in the dungeon, but I live in hope,” Merton answered as he bent to open the trapdoor t
hat was the entrance to the tunnel. “Come on,” he beckoned her towards him.

  “I don’t think I can go in there,” Amandine said backing away, for she fancied that this was the entrance to the darkest depths of hell.

  “Of course you can,” Merton encouraged.

  “I can’t,” Amandine protested, as her legs gave way and she crumpled to the damp grass.

  Merton crossed to where she sat and gently lifted her into his arms. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promised.

  The tunnel was long and cold and black. It stank of rodents, and there was an unhealthy crunching sound underfoot. Snails, Merton assumed. He walked slowly, careful of his precious cargo, but also because he simply could not see where he was going.

  She was still sobbing, although it was more controlled now and not the hysteria of before. Merton kept talking to her, whispering words of encouragement and protection. He told her stories of his misspent youth, trying to make her laugh. Instead, she just clung to him all the tighter.

  It took a long time to walk through the tunnel, longer than it had to go the other way for he had been running then, faster than he had thought possible. He had felt fear before — he wasn’t fearless as others said he was. But, the last time he had felt such an intense, all-consuming fear was when he had watched Alden being pulled from his horse by Wessex’s men all those years ago. Yet, this was somehow worse because Alden was a warrior, Amandine was not. Knowing she was alone, terrified, probably feeling abandoned, nearly undid him. The relief he felt when he saw her huddled next to the tree, had been brief, for the fear had returned tenfold when she had struggled to catch her breath.

  He would forever be indebted to Wann for saving her. He’d thank him the next time he saw him. It could have been so much worse. She could be dead.

  He had left a flaming torch at the entrance of the tunnel, and he was drawn to the light, much like a moth was.

  “We are almost there,” he whispered. “You are going to have to walk now, darling. I may need my sword.” It had not been easy getting out of the castle, for there were soldiers everywhere, and the court was in chaos. Those who were able had left Benwick amid the confusion, for there was nothing worse than a family at war.

  Merton placed her on her feet. She was very shaky, and she would not let go of his sleeve. He looked at her critically; there was blood on her face and down her neck, but it didn’t appear to be hers. He straightened the cloak, pulling it around her so that it covered her modesty. He smiled encouragingly when he caught her gaze. Tears pooled in her eyes and he held her to him.

  “It is going to be all right,” he pulled back a little and smiled at her. “You are going to be all right.” He unsheathed his sword, the blade reflecting the light of the torch. “Nothing is going to happen to you while you are with me. I swear it.” He smiled again as he took her hand in his and walked cautiously up the very small and crumbly stone steps.

  There were very few people who knew this tunnel existed. Merton only knew of it because his uncle, the late Lionel du Lac, had told him about it, much to Lancelot’s annoyance. Merton had always liked Lionel. A kindred spirit, some might say. Lionel, like Merton, was never one to be caged. Lionel had once told Merton not to follow in the footsteps of others but to forge his own path. Merton had not understood what he was going on about back then, but now he appreciated the advice.

  Merton’s thoughts drifted back to his uncle’s death. Lionel’s death had been unexpected and unexplainable. Some swore it was from an old war injury, but now, thinking about it, that could not possibly have been right. Yes, Lionel had lost an arm — a gift courtesy of Arthur Pendragon at the Battle of Benwick — but he had the constitution of an ox.

  Not long after Lionel’s death, Hector de Manfrey was found in a pool of his own vomit. No one had found his death suspicious. Hector was a drunkard and a fool. Lancelot had long since stripped him of the du Lac name, renounced him as his brother, and sent him into exile. It was rumoured that Lancelot had given Hector a large sum of money to go away and never come back. Hector had drunk the money and his life away. His legacy was two illegitimate children, Marcus and Philippe, whom he begot with a common wench.

  A year later, Lancelot was dead as well.

  Merton paused on the steps as he mentally put all the pieces together. Lionel’s death. Hector’s. His father’s sudden illness and then his mother’s — both dead within days of each other. Garren’s death. Alden’s as well if Annis had not stepped in and stopped it. Natanleod of Sussex — the du Lac’s closest ally — torn apart in a battle that he should have won. Rheda, Natanleod’s wife and Merton’s only sister, uncharacteristically falling from a horse and breaking her neck. He recalled the knight on the white horse. There had been something familiar about him. A memory just beyond his reach. King Arthur always rode a white horse into battle and so did his son. His son?

  “How could we have been so blind?” Merton asked himself as things suddenly became clear. It was so obvious, how had he not seen it? His father had said there was not a family alive who did revenge as well as the Pendragon’s. They would devote their whole lives to carrying out what they considered justice. “He has been waging war on us all this time, and we didn’t know,” Merton mumbled.

  “Merton?” Amandine’s voice was small and frightened.

  Merton squeezed her hand in reassurance and carried on walking, but his mind was all over the place with this terrifying revelation. Philippe was a puppet, nothing more, and when he had served his purpose then he would die also.

  “The bastard,” Merton voiced his anger and then immediately regretted doing so, for he felt Amandine stiffen.

  Everything suddenly made sense to him. The deaths, the threats, the disappearances — although where Wessex came into it was a mystery. His involvement didn’t make sense. Why would Wessex ally himself with his enemy?

  Merton could not ponder on it any further for they had to bend low as the roof came up to meet them. Above them was a small wooden trap door.

  “Sshh,” Merton whispered, and he strained to hear any noises from above. He could hear the muffled sounds of soldiers talking, but no one seemed to be above them in the grain storage room, thank goodness. He pushed the door cautiously open. The sound of the door scraping the ground seemed conspicuously loud in the quiet room. Merton wasted no time in climbing through the hole and then he bent and offered his hand to Amandine. In normal circumstances, he was sure Amandine would have had no trouble climbing through the door, but tonight it seemed that all her strength had deserted her. He bent down through the hole, and grabbed hold of her under her armpits and lifted her up, as one would do a child.

  “Wait here,” he whispered once she was safely on her feet again. “And hold this.” He gave her his sword before disappearing out of the room.

  Amandine held tight to the sword with both hands, the blade trembling in the air, and listened. There were two thuds and then silence. A moment later Merton opened the door and dragged a body of a soldier in and then he went back outside and brought in another. He shut the door and quickly set to work stripping the soldiers clothes off them. Amandine watched, the sword still raised in her hands.

  “Get changed,” Merton ordered, throwing the soldiers clothes at her feet.

  “Merton?” she questioned, not understanding.

  He stopped what he was doing and stood, stepping closer to her. Carefully he reached for his sword, covering her hands with his. “You can let go of it now,” he encouraged. She glanced down at the blade and willed her hands to relax. She let go of the weapon and took a step back.

  “Thank you,” Merton said, taking the weapon from her. “It will be all right, I swear. I will make it better for you.”

  She looked at him blankly and shook her head. “Philippe has the throne.”

  “Change your clothes,” Merton encouraged. “We will talk about it in a while.”

  Amandine didn’t react to his words. She just stood there and stared vacantly in front of her. />
  “We need to get going, my love. Do you need my help?” Merton asked.

  His words seemed to jar her back, for suddenly she was tearing at her clothes. They smelt of Jenison, and she had to get them off. She began to cry when her head got stuck in her gown.

  Merton came to her aid, pulling the cloth away from her body and then he helped her into the soldier’s uniform. Merton stood back a little and assessed her appearance. The soldier’s clothes were too big for her, and there was no hiding the fact that she was a woman. But it would do.

  Merton then swiftly replaced his clothes with that of the other soldier’s. He then dragged the bodies towards the trapdoor and pushed them down the hole. He threw the clothes they had just taken off down there as well before shutting the door. Once back in place, the door was almost unnoticeable. You would only see it if you knew it was there.

  Merton turned his attention back to Amandine and took her hand in his. “You need to be brave now and if we are stopped, let me do the talking and if there is fighting, then stay behind me, don’t get in the way. I will protect you.”

  “Those soldiers,” she looked to where the trapdoor was. “Did you kill them?”

  “They would have given us away.” He let go of her hand and picked up one of the dead soldier’s helmet. He placed the helmet on to Amandine’s head and gently tucked her hair into it.

  She looked down at the clothes she now wore. They still held the warmth of their owner, but their owner was now dead. She was wearing a dead man’s clothes.

  “Don’t think about it,” Merton advised, reading her mind. “It was them or us. I need you to concentrate on the now, Amandine. Can you do that for me?”

  “I don’t know,” she whimpered honestly. This was like some awful nightmare that would never end, but instead, got worse in its intensity.

  33

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Amandine answered weakly, as she trembled with fear. “Merton,” she placed her hand upon his arm. “I don’t want to go back in there. If anything were to happen to you…” her eyes filled with fresh tears at the thought.