Sir LeGode stood, his mouth twisting, eyes shifting. “I am honored, my lady.”
“You were a dear friend to my mother and father, and you have assumed the managing of Luxley whilst my sister has been ill. I know full well the sacrifice you have made on my family’s behalf, and I intend to compensate you fully.”
“Think no more of it.” He waved her away, the sleeves of his silk cote flapping. “I do my best to love others more than myself. Is that not one of our Lord’s commands?”
His statement put Alexia at ease, and she smiled. “Indeed.”
“Forsooth, poison?” He circled his desk with a huff. “I can hardly credit such news. The physician informs me that your sister has a tender digestion and is merely weak of disposition. Hence, all she requires is bed rest and extra care.”
“You have been misled, Sir. I drank some of her healing potion and became very ill. Aye, ’tis poison to be sure.” She approached his desk. “Pray, say you will help me find the villain. Once he is brought to justice, I can take my place as lady of the manor alongside my sister. And you can finally return to your own estate. I am sure it has suffered neglect all these years.”
“Nay, my son manages it quite well,” he replied, gazing down at the parchments on his desk with a grimace. “Very well, my dear, I will assist you. We shall uproot this brigand together. Never you fear.” Yet his tone lacked conviction. No doubt he was still stunned by her resurrection.
“If you would allow my identity to remain a secret for now, I shall better be able to move about unnoticed.”
“Of course. As you wish.” He leaned both hands on his desk and finally met her gaze. “God’s truth, ’tis so good to have you back. And alive! ’Twas too much to hope for.”
Then why did his smile never reach his eyes—eyes that remained dark and empty. Odd. Closing her own eyes for a moment, she sought the Spirit’s guidance. Surely light would blossom from within this kind, Godly man, and angels would appear by his side.
Instead, she saw nothing but a dark void.
She shook it off, berating herself for once again being too overcome with emotion to see clearly.
Still, a heaviness fell on her as he led her to the door—a weight that hooked her soul and tugged it down like an anchor tossed overboard.
“Now, my lady, I insist you go tend your sister. I have no doubt, your very presence will sooth her. Meanwhile, I will begin our quest by speaking to the physician—discreetly, of course.” He winked.
“I knew I could count on you, Sir LeGode, as my parents did before me.”
Then why did a blast of cold air envelop her as she left the room?
Chapter 17
“How could Alexia D’Clere be alive and serving in this castle without my knowledge?” LeGode raged across the cold stones of Drogo’s lair. “And how could you not know this as well? I thought you knew all that happened here at Luxley.”
Drogo’s lifeless eyes followed LeGode like an insolent hawk.
“You told me she was dead! Devoured by your wolves,” LeGode continued, unable to stifle his fury. He should have killed her in his study. A quick snap of her pretty little neck and she’d no longer be a problem. He ground his teeth. Weak fool! He could not bring himself to do it. Not yet anyway. He must think…think. The lady must meet her demise in a way where no blame could ever be cast his way.
Drogo remained in place, gray hair stringing about a face devoid of emotion. And LeGode knew he must curb his temper and tread carefully, or this emissary of satan would turn him into a toad. Or worse.
“She is protected by the light,” the warlock finally spat out. “Even now, I sense her in the castle, but I do not see who or where she is. Nor can I read her purpose here.”
“Then why did you tell me she was dead?”
He shrugged. “My wolves returned gorged with blood. How was I to know ’twas not hers.”
“And you, the all-powerful one,” LeGode seethed.
Drogo hissed and a mist burst from his mouth. “There is but One whom I cannot overcome. And He protects her.”
“Can you not put out this light of His?”
“He is the light.” The warlock’s tone sliced.
“So you cannot kill her, and you cannot curse her or make her ill?”
Drogo shook his head.
Groaning, LeGode stared at the floor. A spider crawled from beneath a chest and scrambled across the stones. Above, a bat screeched in its sleep, and a glorious idea took root in his mind. Smiling, he raised his gaze to the warlock. “Then give me something that would prove she is a witch.”
Drogo studied him for a moment, then moved to a wooden chest perched in a corner. Lifting the lid, he withdrew several objects and placed them in LeGode’s hands—an amulet, candle, potion, a clay figure, and an incantation scrawled across paper. “This will convince them.”
LeGode dropped the items in a pouch. “Good. You better hope this works. The woman must die, or our bargain is off and you will never have my son.”
♥♥♥
Ronar entered the main hall of Luxley castle, happy to be summoned away from the tedium of wandering about the village. Jarin and Damien, equally pleased, strode on either side of him, while ten castle knights followed in their wake.
The bishop sat on the great chair, his robes flung about him, his lackey at his side, and a jeweled staff in hand as if he were God Himself at the final judgment. Sir LeGode stood before a small table, looking like a fox about to devour its prey.
Halting, Ronar and his men bowed before the bishop. “Your grace.”
“Go to Lady D’Clere’s chamber and arrest the red-haired maiden who sings for her.”
Ronar’s throat closed. It took a moment ere he could ask as nonchalantly as possible, “On what charge?”
“Witchcraft!” LeGode pointed a crooked finger at a candle, parchment, a vial and other items scattered over the table. “I discovered these crafts of the devil in her possession. She has been casting spells on Lady D’Clere!”
The bishop crossed himself and began to pray in Latin.
Ronar huffed, drawing LeGode’s suspicious gaze.
“What do you know of her, Knight?”
“I have no knowledge of any witch, Sir.”
His narrow eyes seared. “Alack, the proof is before you.”
Ronar scanned the items. He’d never seen such things on Lady Falcon’s person, nor in her home with the friar. Yet…did she not read the Holy Scriptures in defiance of Church law? Alas, he’d allow that she was a heretic, but what devil worshiper reads the words of God?
His insides clenched. Foolish lady! Why return here?
Jarin cast a frown his way.
“Witches are known to have supernatural power,” the bishop added. “Hence, bring these knights with you. Once you have her in hand, bring her to me. I will question her and determine if she is a witch. If so, she will be burned at the stake immediately.”
♥♥♥
“My lady.” Anabelle rushed into Cristiana’s chamber, her chest heaving and her face a portrait of terror. “You must leave immediately.”
“Whatever is wrong, Anabelle?” Alexia rose from her sister’s bed where she’d been holding her hand and telling her all would be well, though her sister remained unconscious.
“He is saying you are a witch. He intends to have you arrested for casting a spell on your sister.”
Confusion spun Alexia’s thoughts. “Pray, who would spew such nonsense?”
“Sir LeGode.” Anabelle glanced out the door.
“LeGode? Nay…he wouldn’t—”
Anabelle shut the door. “You must go! Even now, he could be summoning the guard.”
“I don’t believe it. I will speak with him.” Alexia started to leave.
“Nay.” Anabelle gripped her arms and led her away as Seraphina rose from her chair by the window.
“You told him?” the companion asked, alarm ringing in her tone.
“Aye. And he promised to help di
scover who is poisoning Cristiana.”
Seraphina gasped. “What if ’tis him?”
Alexia could only stare at her, terror threatening to obliterate her peace. She glanced at her sister, her brow dotted with fever, her breath coming far too fast.
“Nay. He loves my sister and me as if we were his own.”
Seraphina approached. “My lady, you know I’ve had my suspicions.”
“As I have,” Anabelle added. “Whate’er you believe about LeGode, you must believe the bishop intends to see you arrested. Prithee, leave ere ’tis too late!”
The sound of men’s boots thundered up the stairs.
“Now, my lady!” Anabelle pressed the latch on the side of the mantle and the scrape of wood on stone filled the room
Alexia dashed to kiss her sister on the cheek. “Take care of her, Seraphina.” The lady nodded and squeezed Alexia’s hand as she dove into the tunnel and the door scraped shut with a thunderous crunch.
Darkness pressed in on her, confusion followed. Sir LeGode…poisoning her sister?
She couldn’t think of it now, nor deal with the pain etching across her heart—nor what a fool she’d been to tell him all.
Nay, at the moment, she must escape the castle or all would be lost.
♥♥♥
Ronar didn’t know whether to feel relieved, angry, or ashamed. Mayhap all three.
“Imbeciles!” Sir LeGode raged across the great hall, his furious bellow echoing off the tall ceiling. “You lost her!”
Jarin crossed arms over his chest. “We can hardly lose someone who wasn’t there in the first place.”
Sir LeGode let out a string of curses that raised the bishop’s brows. “If you please, Sir!” He slammed his staff on the ground. “Control your tongue.”
“Forgive me, Excellency.”
Ronar shifted his gaze, guilt winning over a brew of other emotions. No doubt the lady had escaped through the secret tunnel. He should say something. And fast. They could catch her before she crossed the courtyard. Yet…still…he hesitated.
As he had done in Lady D’Clere’s chamber when the companion’s silent plea screaming at him from her eyes had held his tongue.
“I know what to do.” Sir LeGode stormed into his study beyond the hall, muttering to himself.
Tush! Ronar stared after him. What was it about this Falcon that made him defy orders, made him sin against God and king? He could put an end to it right now. Elevate rather than diminish his position in the Kingdom of God. What was she to him anyway? What if she really was a witch? ’Twould explain the way she had bewitched him into doing her will and keeping her secrets.
Nay, a witch would not drink her own poison. A witch would not feed a hungry village nor tend the wound of a fallen knight.
The bishop released a sigh and stared at the jeweled ring on his finger as if disappointed there would be no one burned at the stake today.
Ronar wished he would release him and his men back to the village. Every moment he remained was another moment he kept silent when he should tell all—another moment for his guilt to grow and, thus, his debt owed to God to mount.
LeGode returned with a cloak in hand and gave it to Sir DeGay. “This has her scent. Give your hounds a good whiff and then go find this witch!”
Unwelcome fear gnawed at Ronar’s gut. Lady Falcon was swift and stealth, but she could only be moments ahead of them. “Why not let her go? Witch or not, surely she will not dare set a foot inside Luxley again.”
“She poisons Lady D’Clere!” LeGode howled. “Forsooth, she will return to finish the task, I assure you.”
Jarin gasped and then suppressed it with a cough.
“Why would a witch want to poison Lady D’Clere?” Ronar made bold to ask LeGode.
The steward grunted like a pig. “That witch is Alexia D’Clere, the lady’s sister. And her purpose is to inherit the estate herself.”
Several servants stopped to stare. Ronar forced a placid expression though his insides churned. Lies, lies, lies! Had the woman ever spoken a word of truth? No peasant was she, but the lady of the castle. Biting his tongue ere he spill all, Ronar shifted his boots, hoping the bishop would release them.
“I thought she was long since dead,” Damien offered.
“So did I.” LeGode snapped. “Apparently she’s been hiding whilst plotting her sister’s demise.”
When she was entitled to half? Ronar made no sense of it. Was she really so vile as to murder her own sister to gain the entire estate? If so, why not just stab her in her bed and be done with it? Nay. That she had lied to him, he could not deny. Many times. But this…a murderer and a witch? Was he so bad a judge of character to be fooled by one so evil? His thoughts drifted to Idonea and Brom.
You’ve always been a gullible fool, his brother had mocked him.
Scattering the memories, Ronar faced LeGode. “We will find her,” he said. Though he meant he would find her and discover the truth. If she was even capable of telling it.
“Nay.” The bishop said with a yawn. “She is none of our affair. We are here for the Spear. Though mark my words, Sir LeGode, the king will hear of the devilish discord at Luxley manor.”
Out in the courtyard, Ronar watched the knights mount their steeds as the squires held back hounds that already had caught Lady Falcon’s scent and were barking and straining on their leashes.
Jarin stormed toward him. “If this witch is indeed poisoning Lady D’Clere, I say we find her and bring her to justice. The poor lady.” He glanced up the tower to her window. “Thank God this sorcery was discovered in time. Her own sister.” He shook his head. “What ails you Ronar?”
“I have something I must do.” He started for the stables.
“Another secret mission?” Damien called out. “We will join you. I could use some excitement.”
“Nay, ’tis a risk only I can take,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Watch over Lady D’Clere. Whoever is poisoning her, ’tis no witch.”
Chapter 18
Alexia made it past the village walls before she heard the hounds barking, the horse hooves pounding, and the knights shouting at the villagers to move aside. Potz! She’d forgotten about LeGode’s dogs, the sound of their fast pursuit only confirming his betrayal. Her heart ached at the thought as she tore off her tunic, exposing the breeches she wore beneath, and pumped her legs as fast as she could across the open field, dark now in the thick of night. The splat of mud and huff of her hard breath rose to mingle with the howling behind her.
All this time ’twas LeGode!
Leaping over a boulder, she entered the forest and reached inside a hollowed-out tree for her bow. In one swift move, she tossed the quiver and bow onto her back and dove into the thicket.
LeGode was poisoning her sister. For what purpose?
She wove around a tree and took the path to her left. Thanks to a moonless night, she dove deeper into a darkness she prayed would hide her from her pursuers.
But not from the hounds whose barks grew ever louder.
LeGode was the one who had wanted her dead. She’d trusted him!
Her heart shriveled as she leapt over a fallen tree, unimpeded by the dark night. She knew this forest, every tree, path, boulder, and creek. Swiping aside a prickly thicket, she jumped onto a low hanging limb and grabbed the branch above her, then swung up onto the next branch and the next, higher and higher until she was well out of sight.
What a fool I am! The friar was right. She hadn’t been ready. Her rampant emotions had stifled her powers of discernment.
The barking grew louder. The sound of horse hooves was soon replaced by boots and shouts of men.
Alexia laid a hand over her thigh where the Spear was hidden. “Father, protect me. ‘Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly’,” she quoted from Psalms. Then taking a deep breath, she leapt onto a limb of the next tree and thus, flew through the forest, aided by the stars above and the Spirit within.
&
nbsp; Why would LeGode wish her and her sister dead? The question kept raging through her mind.
Minutes later, out of breath, she stopped, leaned against the large trunk of a maple tree, and glanced behind her. Flickering lights bounced up and down through the forest, appearing and disappearing through leaves and trees like malevolent fireflies. Hounds growled and snipped. They were close. Too close.
Heart in her throat, she closed her eyes. Shadows, black and empty crept along the forest floor, hovering over leaves and dirt, oozing over rocks and logs, slinking around trees, leading the men directly to her.
Father, help me. She touched the Spear and shook the vision away. “In the name of Christ, you shall not catch me.”
Pushing against the trunk, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it in her bow. Mayhap, she couldn’t outrun the dogs, but she could injure the knights. And the fools were making perfect targets of themselves with their bright torches.
At least ten hounds burst through the brush and halted beneath her tree. Whining like demons deprived of their meal, they sniffed the ground then leapt onto the trunk, clawing the bark and growling as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
And she was their last supper.
Alexia pulled back the string, waiting…waiting…eyeing the bobbing torches.
A knight crashed through the leaves, then another and another.
She closed her eyes and released her bow.
A guttural moan echoed through the darkness. One knight went down.
“Douse the torches!” another ordered, and within seconds the lights disappeared and smoke curled into the night. A dozen footsteps pounded toward her as the dogs continued to howl and jump on top of each other in an effort to be the first to dig their fangs into her tender skin.
Alexia blinked, nocked another arrow, and closed her eyes.
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