“Neither Baron Herbert nor I believed otherwise.”
“But if I were to unbind you, I would be a foolish man. As it is, your predicament serves my purpose well.”
Hugh mumbled something in reply.
Now fully able to see in the gloom, Thomas quickly looked around him. The cave, carved out by the sea, had ledges protruding from the high rock walls. From overhead, a weak beam of light filtered down but slanted away from him. Concluding that he was safely in shadow, he chanced a peek around the corner.
Hugh sat on the sand, bound hand and foot. A body sprawled to the knight’s left, and Leonel stood with his back to the cave entrance. There was a small crossbow at his feet.
Leonel gestured at the ledges above them. “All this is mine, you see,” he said. “There is wealth to be had in smuggling, but my uncle, suffering as he does from a brittle righteousness, would never have approved of the opportunity I saw. Had he known what I was doing here, he would have sent both me and my men to the gallows, rather than praise me for cleverness.”
“Smuggling? You?”
“Who else? Surely you would not expect this effort from my limp-cocked cousins! Like my uncle, they are men with imagination no better than that of worms.”
“Did you not gain wealth enough in Outremer?”
“Compared to my uncle, I acquired nothing. He is miserly, willing enough to feed me scraps from his table and toss the odd bauble picked up from looting an infidel village. He owed me far more for my long and devoted service to him. I saved his life once. He grasped my shoulder and thought the gesture adequate.”
“He paid your father’s debts to his own detriment, leaving you free of the burden, and he treated you like a son.”
“And did I not prove to be a worthy one? I deserved to be his heir.”
“He had sons of his own body.”
Leonel roared with merriment. “He’d have been better served if he had spilt his seed in the earth rather than his wife. That monk you brought from Tyndal is more of a man than any of my cousins. I swear that at least two of them were gelded at birth.”
Hugh growled. “Then it is you, not Raoul, who killed them all.”
“A snail might have been swifter than you to discover the truth. But with due humility, God has the honor for the eldest. When I learned of that death, I began to reason thus: if my uncle had died before his marriage, leaving my father as heir, I would have title and this castle. Wasn’t I worthier than my uncle’s womanish sons?” He waved his hand around. “As master here, I could grow so rich with smuggling that I might buy the loyalty of prominent men. Who knows how high I could rise amongst those upon whom King Edward smiles? Nor would I have to pay smugglers as much if they could bring the goods here in milder seasons. Men demand too much gold when they fear their boats will sink in a winter gale.”
Hugh’s next question was lost as a huge wave shattered against the shore near the cave entrance. Shuddering, Thomas understood that the tide was coming in faster than he had realized. Then he remembered the high water marks on the cliffs he had seen from the castle wall. If this tide was high enough, they were in danger of drowning here.
Almost as loud as the incoming tide, Leonel’s laugh echoed in the cavern. “Why should I enlighten you about my methods? But I shall give you one hint and leave you until the Day of Judgement to discover my meaning. Unlike my uncle, who disdained the Infidel, and, you, who were blinded by them, I studied their methods of killing with a critical eye. Do you not remember hearing tales about the Old Man of the Mountain? His men leapt to their deaths from the citadel walls at his whim and exposed their hearts to daggers, after killing the man they were sent to murder. They all faced death with joy.”
“They were promised rewards in paradise.”
“But death must be suffered first, and men are often unreliable when the scythe sweeps toward them. Have you not seen men flee battle? Nay, Sir Hugh, their master found a method of giving courage and, at the same time, blinding them to actual consequences.”
As the roaring sea grew louder, the monk grew more anxious. Surely the baron’s nephew knew the dangers best, he told himself, and Leonel had yet to flee.
Thomas mouthed a silent curse. Although he knew he might delay the knight at the cave entrance, he could never stop a man with a sword. He had no weapon or any way to save his prioress’ brother. Hugh would die. He probably would as well, and Leonel could escape unscathed.
Franticly, he looked around.
“If men are fearful, Sir Hugh, there is a way they may face their terrors, and I learned it in Acre. Encouraging words and promises for the life after death are well enough but rarely suffice. Consider the tales of the assassins and see if you can discover my secret, but I rather doubt you shall on this side of Hell.”
When Hugh replied, the monk could not hear him.
“Surely you do not expect me to remain here, spewing the many details of each exploit like a murderer who hopes for mercy. The waves come closer. I have little time, you even less, so I shall humor you only briefly.
“Drunken priests, who pry when they should be praying, die with few to mourn them. I caught him in my chambers where he discovered evidence of my uncle’s illness. When he swore to tell the family, I tried to dissuade him. I needed more time for my purpose. He was strangely obstinate. A pillow was sufficient to my task and took but a little while.
“With Umfrey, I was forced to act with ill-considered speed, but my plan was to suggest his death had been self-murder. As the soldier’s whore, how could he continue bearing the shame and taunting over his loss of manhood?” He roared with merriment. “If your monk had not seen me leave the chapel, the ploy would have been another success.”
“And now you have killed Raoul…”
“No more questions, my lord. It’s a pity I arrived just after my cousin drove his sword through your heart. When he refused to surrender and tried to run away, I shot him with my crossbow. I grieve he could not be brought to the king’s justice, but I dared not allow such a heinous murderer to flee. Indeed, the truth of the matter is that I barely escaped death in Lucifer’s Cauldron myself.”
Thomas almost wept with despair. Although forbidden to wield a sword, he cared little now for the prohibition and wished he had a sharp blade in hand.
Suddenly, he saw a possible solution: a large stone lay on the ground. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. His spirit brightened with hope.
“I’ll allow you to ask God to forgive your sins first, Sir Hugh, but pray quickly. The tide comes in.” Leonel raised his sword.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Thomas threw the rock.
As if propelled from David’s sling toward Goliath, it flew straight, striking the baron’s nephew in the back of the head.
Leonel crumbled. His weapon dropped from his hand and clattered on the rocks.
Thomas raced to the three men. Bending down, he confirmed that the baron’s nephew was alive but unconscious. Then he grabbed the fallen sword and slashed the ropes binding Hugh.
The knight staggered to his feet, briskly rubbing feeling back into his feet and hands. “Why did you do that, Brother? I am no friend to you.”
Thomas fell to his knees by Raoul’s side. “You are my prioress’ brother and Richard’s father.”
Frowning, Hugh picked up one sword, dropped it into his scabbard, and knelt by the baron’s son. “Surely he does not live.”
“He breathes but has lost much blood. The bolt hit him high enough he may survive if we can get him to Sister Anne for care.” He grunted as he began to lift Raoul. “I need help, Sir Hugh. We must get him out of here before the tide comes in and drowns us all.”
A sudden noise startled them, and the knight leapt to his feet, spun around, and drew his weapon.
Leonel was running to the cave entrance.
Hugh started after him.
“Let him escape!” Thomas shouted. “Either you capture him or we save Raoul.”
Hugh hesi
tated, then turned back.
Hoisting the unconscious man between them, the two struggled to edge Raoul through the narrow entrance to the cave.
Outside, the sea lashed the shore with increasing fury and had almost reached the hidden cave. As they stumbled across the pile of loose rocks and onto the small remaining strip of beach, long fingers of water stretched out to them like claws of a ravenous beast. Once Hugh slipped, caught himself, and the men staggered on.
Panting, they reached the mare Thomas had taken to higher ground.
The other horse and Leonel had vanished.
With the last of their strength, they raised Raoul and draped him across the mare. Hugh mounted, then turned to Thomas, reaching out a hand to pull him up behind.
“Go!” Thomas shouted. “I can run fast enough to reach the path, but my weight will overburden the horse and slow you down.”
Hugh paused as if to argue.
“Go!” Thomas screamed.
The knight turned the dark mare toward the rising path. She leapt forward without further urging.
Thomas held his breath and watched mare and rider climb steadily to the top of the cliff. When they were well out of the way of the incoming sea, he exhaled.
Now he looked down at his feet. Water swirled around his ankles and sucked at the sand underneath him.
He had lingered too long.
Thomas stumbled forward, his feet finding little purchase in the liquefied earth. Willing himself not to panic, he knew he still had a chance to flee to the path and safety once the water receded. The opportunity was also brief. If a high wave caught him, he would drown.
He fell, sliding to his knees in the wet sand. Staggering upright, he murmured a plea to God for the strength needed to save himself.
A wave struck the shore. From the hissing sound, he knew it was weak and resisted the temptation to look back. The sea howled behind him, and he dared not slow. The next wave would surely have greater force, and he would not survive it.
Suddenly, his feet went out from under him and he splashed into a shallow muddy pool.
Desperate, he reached out, grabbed a piece of driftwood, and clawed his way forward, not caring that his fingers bled with the effort.
Then he found rougher ground and pulled himself upright. With a roar of defiance, Thomas stumbled and ran until he was halfway up the road. Only then did he turn and shake a bloody fist at the sea.
Gasping for breath, he watched the waves strike the base of the precipice below like a maddened viper. Exhaustion swiftly claimed him, and he began to shake with previously denied terror. Sweat stung his eyes, but he had nothing dry to wipe it away. Instead, he raised his face to the sky and let the heavy mist cleanse him.
Now he turned his back to the cove and began the final ascent to the top. It was not far, but he felt as if it were as distant as London. Determined not to give in to weariness, he concentrated on not slipping in the mud.
When he reached the crest, he stopped and peered into the thin woods. He could hear nothing over the roar of the incoming tide below, and the mist swirled too thickly to see any shape more than a short distance away.
There was no sign of Hugh, Raoul, and the mare.
At least the three had gained the crest of the cliff, he thought, and sighed with hope. It was likely that the they were riding through the forest and back to the castle.
But where was Leonel?
If the baron’s nephew were wise, the monk thought, he would be on his way to some port where he could seek a boat to take him to the continent. A man with his experience could sell his sword. Many mercenary leaders cared little what innocent blood might have been shed with the weapon as long as it was sharp.
Had Thomas been less weary, he would have grown hot with anger at the failure to exact justice for Baron Herbert’s dead sons. Instead, he looked down at his wounded hands as if they had failed him and walked back to the edge of the cliff. Perhaps all he should ask of God was that Raoul survive. He waited to see Sir Hugh cross the narrow isthmus to the castle.
The fog was too dense, and he could see little except the precipice edge when he approached it. Then the mist parted like a curtain moved by an unseen hand. Looking across at the fortress, Thomas froze at the sight.
A lone rider galloped toward the castle gate.
Thomas squinted to see more clearly. Was that his prioress’ brother? What had happened to Raoul?
But the horse was light in color, and Thomas realized it could not be Sir Hugh. The knight was riding a dark horse, and, with the weight of two men, the beast could not move quickly. Surely they were still traveling through the forest, but Leonel had left the cove before them. The rider must be the baron’s nephew.
Thomas stared in disbelief. “Why return to the castle? The man should have fled.”
Just as the rider reached the narrowest part of the road, a company of mounted soldiers clattered across the drawbridge toward him. There was no room for the man to pass through them, and the troop did not slow their swift pace.
The pale horse reared, slipped and fell backwards, rolling over onto its side in the middle of the road.
Throwing himself free, the rider landed on the sloping edge of the sheer cliff.
With the roar of the surf, Thomas could hear nothing but knew Leonel must have screamed.
Clutching at air, the baron’s nephew slid off the edge, flailing and twisting as he plunged toward the sea. Then his back struck a rock. Chiseled sharp by wind and tides, it pierced Leonel’s body through like a well-aimed lance.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Umfrey sat up in bed and bent his head. Pressing his folded hands tight against his brow, he mumbled a torrent of words.
Brother Thomas bent forward and gently touched his shoulder.
On the other side of the room, braced against the wall, Raoul sat on a stool, one arm immobilized in a wrapping of linen. He tried to cut a fingernail on that hand with a small knife. Difficult though the task was, he stubbornly persisted. “I would never have left you to drown.” He glanced up at Hugh and flashed a roguish grin.
“So you claimed then and now.” The knight’s reply was sharp-edged.
“I needed time to escape, but, once I loosened the ropes, you could have freed yourself and climbed to safety on the higher ledges. Surely you were familiar with the tides and how far you must climb to escape them.” The baron’s son tilted his head and studied the effect of his words on the older man.
“And you believe I would have been able to do so before the sea flooded the cave?” Hugh snorted.
Raoul set the knife on the floor with a exasperated grunt.
The knight ignored him and watched Thomas whisper into Umfrey’s ear, the monk’s face a study in compassion. Hugh frowned as he considered this. “Perhaps wicked men can change,” he murmured with reluctant charity.
“So Christ taught.” Despite his often expressed contempt for faith, Raoul’s words were heavy with hope.
Hearing the longing, the knight knew this son sought forgiveness, but it was a gift he could not grant. He did not, and never could, trust him. Instead, Hugh shrugged and said, “You are healing faster than I expected from such a wound.”
Raoul gazed at him with disappointment but disguised it with a wave of his good hand. “I shall not die easily. Were Satan to battle too little for my soul, he would not value it highly enough. I want a place of honor when I arrive in Hell.”
This time, Hugh responded with sincere agreement, and then added, “Sister Anne and Master Gamel are due much credit for saving your life. They did not draw the bolt out until pus formed, then washed the wound with wine. It has not grown foul.”
The baron’s son sighed. “Yet I think the vintage was wasted in the treatment. I would have preferred to drink it instead.” His tone was playful, but his eyes narrowed with memory of the pain.
“You did know about the smuggling.”
Raoul started at the abruptness. “You accuse me of being part of the scheme?�
�
Hugh’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile.
With the gesture of a defeated man, Raoul leaned his head back against the wall. “I am no more skilled at word play than I am with swords. If I speak plainly, will you swear to listen with the ears of a fair judge?”
“I shall.” At least, the knight promised himself, he would try to do so.
“After lights in the cove were reported, I watched from the ramparts until I witnessed them as well. They were no fantasy. The soldiers sent to investigate returned too quickly to have done their task properly. I was surprised that they were not sent back for a more extensive search. Whatever faults my father owns, his reputation speaks of a man who would never tolerate the failure to discover the cause for the lights.” He gnawed at his rough fingernail.
“Why did you not join the search to guarantee it was a careful one?”
“I have rarely found joy in raising questions, begging to be heard, or asking to be included,” Raoul snapped. “I learned caution in boyhood.” He raised his head and looked up at the knight, his face grey with weariness. “Whatever your opinion of me, remember that I am still my father’s son, and you did give your word to justly hear me out.”
Hugh agreed and rubbed a hand over his mouth as a reminder to keep it shut.
“Soon after, I went alone to the beach, thinking it odd that no one had mentioned the cave. Many of the soldiers might not know about it, I thought. Few grew up here or now have sons who play in the cove as you and my brothers did. I suspected that the entrance had been concealed and did discover that a large rock covered it.” Raoul looked nervously at the prioress’ brother.
Asking him to continue, Hugh stole a quick look at Thomas.
The monk was holding Umfrey’s hands, the wounded man’s expression soft with tranquility.
“I discovered those chests high on the ledges. They were empty, but I found broken pieces of gold and silver scattered about, some large enough to reveal fine crafting. When I discovered a large cross, fallen into a crevice, I concluded that the cave might be used to hide unlawful goods smuggled in by sea. The gold cross I kept, since I could sell the object as well as any other man.” Raoul gestured awkwardly toward his elder brother. “Later, I gave it to him as a comfort while he hid in the chapel.” He grimaced. “If confession is due, I am a thief, albeit one who robs from others who steal. There were more baubles, but I left them. My greed is easily satisfied, and too much glitter hurts my eyes.”
A Killing Season mm-8 Page 19