Lady of Steel

by Mary Gillgannon

  “I had not thought of that,” Reynard said. “I’d assumed someone from Valmar was in communication with FitzSaer at Mordeaux, but maybe FitzSaer and Alys plotted this ere he even left.”

  “That would make sense,” Fawkes said. “I was supposed to die when I went to Mordeaux. When I didn’t die, Alys came up with this plan to kill me off by drugging me with poppy-laced wine and refusing me water. That’s why she offered to take care of me.”

  “She wouldn’t have had a chance to try and kill you if Nicola hadn’t left you.” Reynard’s voice curdled with resentment.

  Fawkes made a sharp gesture. “Enough! I will not have my captain and my wife at each other’s throats like two hunting hounds fighting over a bitch in heat. Or like Gimlyn and Tom hissing and snarling and puffing up like wildcats as they dispute the territory of the castle.”

  “You’re right,” Nicola said. “The dangers facing us are too grave for us not to be united in our purpose.”

  Reynard nodded, although Nicola sensed he was reluctant. “We didn’t mean to burden you with these things, Fawkes, but now you know what we face, what do you think we should do?”

  “Part of the key to untangling this coil might be to find out if anyone else at Valmar is involved besides Alys and FitzSaer.”

  “How we do that?” Reynard asked.

  “Perhaps you should question Alys.”

  “But what about the army at Mordeaux?” Reynard persisted. “How do we deal with that?”

  “We must find out what’s happening inside Mordeaux castle,” Fawkes said. “Do all the garrison knights support FitzSaer? Or, are there some who remain loyal to me?”

  “That’s what Gilbert is supposed to be finding out.” Reynard said.

  “It seems we should send a spy to find out what has happened to our spies. But we may need all the knights we can muster to deal with this army camped outside Mordeaux.”

  “What about this army?” Reynard asked. “Should we not engage with them?”

  “If they already control Mordeaux, what’s to be gained by attacking now?” Nicola asked. “And if they don’t hold Mordeaux, then we need to know the reason. Maybe some of the knights at Mordeaux have turned against FitzSaer. Or FitzSaer himself has discovered he is being used, and is refusing to surrender.”

  “Used? What do you mean?” Reynard frowned at her.

  “Any baron John sends will install their own man as castellan. The only way FitzSaer’s plan works is if Fawkes is dead and FitzSaer is wed to me—and in that regard, we have thwarted him.”

  “That still doesn’t answer the question of who to send,” Fawkes said. “We need someone unobtrusive. Someone who can gather information without arousing FitzSaer’s suspicions.”

  “Why does it have to be a knight?” Nicola asked. “Could it not be a squire, or even someone from the village?” The next moment it came to her. “I know who we can send. Temmen, a youth from the village. He has carried messages to Mordeaux for me before. All he has to do is find the cook Morwenna and she will be able to tell him everything that has happened. She keeps abreast of all the castle gossip, and she is firmly on our side. She hates FitzSaer.”

  “Temmen? But he’s little better than a child. Is that not expecting a great deal of him?” Reynard asked. “To walk to Mordeaux and then back?”

  “One of the knights can take him most of the way on horseback. They could let him off in the woods near the castle and then wait for him to return.”

  “Can he be trusted?” Reynard asked.

  “Glennyth has used him to run errands herself,” Nicola said. “And he’s not as young as you might think. I’d guess him to be near twelve winters. His family is all small-statured. I’m sure you recall young Alwen, the corn queen. She’s his sister.”

  “Fetch the boy up here,” Fawkes said. “His demeanor will reveal whether he can be trusted. He’s young enough it’s unlikely he’s skilled at deception.”

  Reynard went to get Temmen. Fawkes lay back and closed his eyes.

  “Are you well?” Nicola moved closer to the bed. “I know this must be overwhelming, especially when you’re only beginning to recover.” She gently touched his wounded shoulder. “Glennyth still needs to remove the poultice and stitch you up.”

  Fawkes made a sound of assent but didn’t open his eyes. Nicola felt a prick of fear. Fawkes appeared better but he was still in danger. He needed rest. And water. The ewer on the table was empty. She must fetch more.

  When she was halfway to the door, Fawkes called, “Come back.”

  She returned to the bed. They had not been alone since he learned about Simon. If he wanted to shout and curse at her, this would be the perfect time. “What is it?” she asked, her nerves taut.

  Fawkes opened his eyes. “Tell me about Simon. You say he doesn’t look like me. But what sort of temperament does he have?”

  “He’s a very sweet-natured child. Hilary is always saying so. While her Joanie can be difficult and demanding, Simon never is. He loves animals. One of the hunting dogs had a litter of puppies and Simon wanted to be with them and play with them every moment of the day. Gilbert let him pick one out for his own, and now the dog sleeps beside his pallet at night.”

  She wondered what Fawkes would think of this. Most people used dogs for hunting and regarded them as nuisances the rest of the time. For that matter, Fawkes probably didn’t relish hearing about his son’s gentle nature. Men wanted their sons to be tough and strong, not tender-hearted and sweet.

  “Beyond his coloring, what does he look like?” Fawkes asked. “Is he slender? Or stout and strong?”

  “He is tall for his age and well-made, which surely comes from you.”

  “What else?”

  “I’m certain many mothers think their child is well-favored in looks. But truly, Simon is as comely as an angel.”

  “An angel.” Fawkes’s mouth twisted. “The world is a harsh place. If Simon is to thrive and prosper, he’ll have to toughen up. ’Tis clear he’s been too much in the company of women. That will have to change, or he will have no future as a knight.”

  “I don’t want him to be a knight!” The words were out before she could stop them.

  Fawkes stared at her. “You don’t want him to be a knight? That is foolish. If Simon is to claim his birthright, he must be able to fight his enemies and be a strong leader.”

  She knew he was right. But that did not change how she felt.

  Fawkes was silent for a time. Nicola gnawed her lower lip. Perhaps this was part of the reason she hadn’t told Fawkes about Simon. Now that he knew he had a son, Fawkes would want to take control over Simon’s upbringing. As soon as Simon came to live at Valmar, Fawkes would seek to mold his character and make him into what he thought a man should be, someone capable of ruthlessness and brutality.

  All those lies, everything she’d done to protect her son—all of it was a foolish waste. One way or another, she would lose Simon. Even if all was well now, someday he would be a man and she would lose him anyway. The thought of it made her deeply melancholy. She closed her eyes and repressed a sigh.

  Fawkes touched her hand. She opened her eyes and was startled by the tenderness in his expression. “I care naught that you lied to me. I know you did it to keep our son safe. Simon was born into a household of treachery and cruelty. I can’t blame you for being cautious. For all we know, your deception is all that kept him alive.”

  “We can only hope my stupid plotting hasn’t put him in terrible danger now.”

  A wry smile touched Fawkes’s lips. “Plots are only stupid when they fail. We do the best we can for the ones we love, all of us.”

  Nicola’s throat swelled with emotion. Fawkes was telling her that he forgave her. “You need to eat something. I will take the broth to the kitchen and warm it up.”

  ****

  Soon after Nicola left, Reynard arrived with Temmen. Fawkes motioned for the boy to approach the bed. “We have a task for you. Reynard will explain.”


  Reynard told the boy what had happened at Mordeaux and about the secret passageway. Then he explained what they wanted Temmen find out once he was inside the castle. Temmen seemed over-awed, but listened intently. Observing him, Fawkes felt a twinge of hope. This plan, odd as it was, might work.

  They discussed other details, such as where Alexander would be waiting for him, and how long the task might take. By the time Nicola returned, there was little left to explain, other than the exact instructions of how to find the tunnel into the castle. Nicola gave him those details and offered to escort him to the kitchen to get him supplies for the journey.

  As soon as Nicola and Temmen had left, Reynard said, “Now we need to talk about what to do about this army.”

  Fawkes shook his head. “I’m at the end of my strength. Dealing with that will have to wait. Besides, I think we should delay making any decision until Temmen returns.”

  Reynard did not look pleased, but he nodded curtly. “I’ll leave you to rest.”

  A while later, Fawkes gritted his teeth as Glennyth drew her needle through the raw, mangled flesh of his shoulder. “Jesu, that hurts.”

  “I did advise you to take more poppy.”

  “No…more…poppy.” Fawkes forced out the words as his eyes watered and his body trembled from the pain, as well as the strain of remaining still.

  “Almost done. Nicola did well in getting the crossbow bolt out. The cuts she made are clean and easy to repair.”

  “She took the bolt out?”

  “Aye. Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember very little between riding away from Mordeaux and waking up here.”

  “You probably hit your head when you fell from your horse. You’re very fortunate it didn’t damage your wits.”

  Fawkes winced again. “Where’s Reynard? Why isn’t he here? Is he too cowardly to watch?”

  “I told him to stay away. It serves no purpose to have him nearby, grumbling, and glowering.”

  “What does he have to be angry about?”

  “You know he blames Nicola for all this. According to him, she started everything when she conspired with one of John’s lackeys to bring Mortimer down.”

  “She was trying to protect her son. That’s what any mother would do.”

  Glennyth sat back and surveyed her work. “Nay. Most women would not meddle in the affairs of men the way she has.”

  “I’m not pleased about what we face. But I can’t truly blame Nicola. I likely would have done something similar, given the circumstances. Nicola’s boldness is part of who she is. I can’t separate that part of her from everything else I admire.”

  Glennyth smiled, her hazel eyes glinting. “You mean, what you love about her.”

  Glennyth was right. His feelings for Nicola went far beyond admiration. He looked away while Glennyth tied and cut the thread binding his wound. When she bathed his shoulder in vinegar, he gasped, “Curse it, but that stings!”

  “The vinegar helps fight the poison and keep it from coming back. I’m pleased with how well you are mending. I predict that if you have a care for yourself and give the wound time to heal, your shoulder will eventually be nearly the same as it was before.”

  “How long?” Fawkes braced himself for the answer.

  “At least a month before you can lift anything, or use your arm strenuously. Although you must not favor it too much, or the muscles will stiffen and become too rigid to work properly. So move it around, but do so gently.”

  “A month. I fear I will go mad.” Fawkes let out a sigh of frustration. The pain of having his shoulder stitched had worn him out. He wanted desperately to lie back and sleep. But how could he, when everything he cared about was at risk?

  To Glennyth he said, “Now that you’re finished, I want to see Reynard. We have things to discuss.”

  Glennyth nodded and gathered her things.

  Fawkes leaned back and closed his eyes. He might as well rest until Reynard arrived.

  ****

  Nicola was awakened by shouting. She rushed from the garden. Several knights were headed for the stairs to the parapet. She followed and joined them on the castle wall. A mass of mounted knights, foot soldiers and supply wains were marching toward Valmar.

  A weight settled on her chest. Because of her, everyone and everything she cared about was in danger: Her home. Her people. Fawkes. Her son.

  Gerard turned to her. “Do you think it’s the same force Oliver and Alexander saw at Mordeaux? Does that mean FitzSaer has surrendered?”

  “We don’t know for certain.” Nicola focused on the banner of the man leading the army. His device looked familiar, but she could not place it. What baron went to battle under a gold flag with a black leopard couchant? Would any of the Mortimer knights recognize it?

  She turned the other direction, her view taking in the village near the river. All was tranquil now, but soon this peaceful scene might be shattered with the strife of warfare. The clash of swords and lances. Shouts and battle cries. The hooves of destriers churning up the grass. Blood staining the fertile ground. The cries of the wounded and dying. She shuddered, wondering again what her foolishness had wrought. Then she turned and started down the stairway.

  “Where are you going?” Gerard called.

  “To speak to Fawkes.”

  He hurried to reach her. “I thought Reynard had decided we should not burden him with this until he is stronger.”

  “The army at Mordeaux was one thing, but an army outside our very walls is another. He must know of this at once.”

  Gerard followed her down the stairs. “Someone could ride out and meet them.”

  “And tell them what? How will you explain why Fawkes hasn’t come to parlay with them?”

  “They could explain that he is injured, but mending.”

  “That might make them think that this is a good time to strike.”

  Gerard’s hazel eyes were dark with anxiety. “What else can we do? I don’t see how Fawkes can sit a horse, let alone ride out and negotiate with these men.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be consulted.”

  “But what if this is too much for him and the fever comes back?”

  “Fawkes has a right to know what’s happening.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Fawkes woke to Nicola calling his name. As soon as he saw her face he tensed. She looked as if she was poised on a knife’s edge.

  “Fawkes. I must speak to you about something.”

  He nodded, his muscles tightening.

  “The army that was at Mordeaux—they’re here. At Valmar.”

  Everything he’d worked so hard for was threatened, and here he was, an invalid, stuck in bed. Or was he? Glennyth had told him to be careful of his arm, but his legs still worked. He tried to sit up.

  Nicola reached out to stop him. “There’s no reason you must deal with this yourself. Tell me what should be done, and I will do it.”

  “Nay. I will do it.” Reynard entered the room.

  Fawkes looked at his captain and then at his wife. “I want to see this army.”

  “I can tell you exactly what we face,” Reynard said. “About fifty mounted knights and twice as many foot soldiers.”

  “Any siege engines?”

  “Nay, but perhaps they intend to build them.”

  “Then we have time. They can’t take this castle without siege engines. And that’s exactly what I will make certain they understand.”

  “You can’t even sit a horse.”

  “I can try. If I fail, we’ll think of another plan.”

  “I could meet with them and convey your words.”

  “You know if I don’t show myself, the enemy will assume I’m dead or so badly wounded that I’m no threat.”

  “You are badly wounded. Which is why you can’t—”

  “Nay! I’m not so badly wounded that I will risk the enemy thinking I’m not a force to be reckoned with. If anyone goes out to parlay with this army, ’twill be me!
” Fawkes motioned. “I want the two of you to get me up and help me down the stairs.”

  Nicola regarded him uncertainly. “If you want to try this, we’ll need more help.”

  Reynard looked ready to explode. “You’re going to allow him to do this? You probably hope he will sicken and die. That would be very convenient, wouldn’t it? Then you could marry this FitzRandolph bastard who leads this army and reclaim your son.”

  Nicola froze as she recognized the name of the powerful baron she knew supported John. “FitzRandolph? The man who leads the army is named FitzRandolph?”

  Reynard nodded. “Apparently. Old Thomas in the stables recognized the device of the baron’s pennant.”

  “A gold banner with a leopard couchant,” Nicola said. “I knew I had seen the design before.” Then the rest of Reynard’s words sank in. Blessed Jesu! She could not let Fawkes think Reynard’s horrible accusation was true. She gave Fawkes a desperate look. “I don’t want to marry FitzRandolph. Or any other man. I want you as my husband. You’re the one I love.”

  Fawkes’s dark eyes assessed her. Her heart beat wildly. As usual, she could not tell what he was thinking.

  It was Reynard who broke the silence. “Don’t let her fool you, Fawkes. Think back to all the lies she’s told you already. Lie upon lie. I vow, no one can believe a thing she says, least of all you.”

  “But I do believe her,” Fawkes said. “Nicola told me about this army because she understands me. She and I are alike. We both seek to be in control of our fate, no matter what it costs us.”

  Nicola let out her breath slowly. “It has cost me dear, as you well know.”

  Reynard crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well then, Fawkes. What do you propose to do? Have us tie you to your horse and hope you don’t fall off in front of the enemy?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean to do. But first, we need to find out about this man, FitzRandolph.”

  “He visited here once,” Nicola said. “’Twas shortly after Mortimer came back from London. Mortimer insisted I act the hostess at the banquet he held in FitzRandolph’s honor. But the two men parted on bad terms. Mortimer was fiercely loyal to Richard. FitzRandolph was John’s man, and already plotting what he might gain with Richard off on Crusade.”