A Sense of Duty - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 4)

by Shea,Lisa

  “We have Constance here, let us in!”

  A row of torches appeared instantly along the top of the gate – and an answering line of torches flared into existence in a semi-circle from the surrounding forest, approaching slowly. Ralph spun the horse in surprise, the two Angelus men drawing close on either side. Gabriel put himself in front of the group, drawing his sword.

  “You shall not have her, Barnard!” he called out in hoarse challenge.

  A trio of riders separated from the surrounding line. Constance smiled as she saw Barnard and Frank in the group, nodding to them in welcome. The third man she could not place. He seemed in his mid-forties, lean and rugged, with graying hair and beard.

  “I am Sheriff Tristan,” he called out to the group huddled by the nunnery’s gates. “I order you to put down your arms and submit quietly.”

  Gabriel did not lower his sword, and his voice was hot with anger. “On what charges?”

  “You have kidnapped the lawful wife of this man, and by your own admission now are refusing to return her to him. You are in league with the Angelus, as we can see here with our own eyes. The Angelus are responsible for many of the bandit attacks.”

  A clear voice pealed out from over their heads. “This nunnery is a sanctuary for all who request it,” called out Abbess Agnes, her voice steady and calm. “Constance, the woman in question, had been granted leave to visit with us for another ten days yet. We will take her in now for her stay.”

  Barnard raised his head, his face flushing with anger, but the Sheriff put out an arm to forestall him. The official turned his searching eyes on Constance’s face.

  “My Lady, is this your free desire?” he asked calmly.

  Constance turned to look up at the Abbess, so high on the wall, seeming like an angel watching over her. Yes, she had come to the Abbey to stay for two weeks, and the time was not yet up. While she had no qualms about going back to Barnard, it would be rude to leave her friends so quickly.

  She turned back to the Sheriff with a smile. “Yes, I would like to finish my stay,” she agreed merrily.

  The Abbess’ voice rang steadily across the plain. “My offer of sanctuary extends to all of the men at my door,” she stated without inflection.

  Barnard stood in his stirrups immediately, his face mottled with fury. “She cannot do that!” he trumpeted. “They are ours!”

  Gabriel turned and gave a long look at the Abbess, nodding formally to her. “Your offer means more to me than you can imagine,” he stated quietly, his voice rich. “However, I will not draw you into this set of machinations. Watch over Constance, and keep her safe. That is all I ask.”

  He turned then to look at Constance. She drew back against Ralph, but was caught by the look of tenderness in Gabriel’s eyes, of regret. When his voice came, it was rough and weary.

  “Let her go, Ralph.”

  Ralph put out an arm, helping to lower Constance to the ground. A small door in the main gate opened behind her with a long creak, and a pair of the nunnery’s guards came out to flank the opening. Constance looked uncertainly between Gabriel and Ralph, then turned and walked through the doorway.

  She was immediately embraced by her aunt, who hugged her as if she had been gone for years. “You poor thing,” sobbed her aunt, looking over her disheveled state and bruises in one long gaze. “We need to get you inside right away, and clean you up.”

  For some reason Constance expected to hear the sounds of fighting as she was led to the main keep – shouts, clangs, the neighs of horses. To her surprise, it seemed as if silence echoed around her as she crossed the courtyard and was swept into the main building, the doors closing firmly behind her.

  Chapter 21

  Constance awoke wearily, her head throbbing. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was. The familiar cell at the nunnery took shape around her. Her face pulsed with pain, and she raised a hand to it, surprised at the bandages she felt there. She struggled to remember …

  The door to her room swung open, and she pulled back in bed, alarmed. Her aunt rushed in without preamble, holding a green dress in her arms.

  “They came for you far more quickly than we had thought,” she muttered under her breath as she moved. “We have to get you dressed.”

  “Dressed for what?” asked Constance in confusion. “Where am I going?”

  “You are not going anywhere,” insisted her aunt stoutly, seemingly to reassure herself as much as Constance. “Still, they do need to talk with you, of course. Here, put up your arms.”

  Constance obediently let her aunt help her with the dress, and stood while Silvia brushed out her hair with long strokes. Her aunt’s voice had a slight tremor to it. “Now remember, my dear, this is extremely serious. Be truthful in everything you say – but think long and hard before you say anything.”

  “What do you mean?” Constance pressed, baffled about what was going on.

  “I am supposed to say nothing to you,” replied Silvia tightly. “Come on, now, we have to go.”

  She led Constance down the long network of hallways and chambers to get to the main meeting room. A large table had been placed at the center of the room, and a collection of people were sitting around it. The Abbess was at one end, serene and steady. Opposite her was the Sheriff, his eyes sharply moving from face to face, watching for reactions. Down one long side were Barnard and Frank, and then a guard who held a dagger on Gabriel. Ralph was alongside Gabriel. Another pair of guards stood behind the two men. Constance could see that Gabriel and Ralph’s hands were tied in front of their bodies.

  Gabriel started as she came in, his eyes going to the bandages on her head and arms. The guard instantly pressed the dagger in against his neck, holding him down. Constance found herself freezing in place, but at her aunt’s gentle urging, she made her way to the lone chair opposite the four men.

  The Sheriff ran his eyes warningly down the line of men. “You have all had ample opportunity to make your statements,” he told them sternly, “You are here to hear what this witness says – but not to affect or suggest anything at all to her. If any of you speaks, or influences her in any manner, I will have you removed immediately. Do you understand?”

  The four men nodded quietly, their eyes fixed on Constance.

  The Sheriff turned to hold her fast with his gaze. His look softened slightly as he took in the injuries, still fresh and swollen. “I know you have been through a lot,” he stated, “However, we need to hear your side of the story now, while it is still fresh. We want to know the truth, as you see it, when it is as clear as possible in your mind – and as unadulterated.” He smiled wryly. “In short, I want to hear – in your own words – what took place after you left the village inn yesterday afternoon.”

  His look became more steady. “Keep in mind that you are in a holy place, and that you must tell the entire truth. Do not fall into the sin of a lie of omission. Tell us fully, honestly, what transpired.”

  Constance wished that she had time to get her thoughts into order, to figure out what was going on. Still, she would do the best she could. She settled herself into the chair, folding her hands before her on the table.

  “We rode from the inn … Gabriel, Ralph, and I … to come back to the nunnery where I was staying. We took the track through the forest.”

  “Why did you take that path?” asked Tristan, his tone neutral.

  Constance flushed. “I was angry … upset … at the memories the inn brought up. I wanted to get back to the nunnery quickly, and the main road seemed too long to me.”

  “What made you upset?”

  Constance’s face burned as she realized that Barnard and Gabriel were sitting almost side by side, hearing her confession. She lowered her eyes. “Six years ago, at that inn, I lied to Gabriel. I told him that I never loved him, and that I was eager to marry Barnard. A week later, I was handfasted to Barnard.”

  “So you and Gabriel were lovers?”

  Constance’s eyes shot up in fierce rebu
ttal to meet the Sheriff’s. “No!” she shouted hotly. She took in a deep breath, and her mind suddenly filled with the memory of standing on the beach, Gabriel’s cloak wrapped around her, his arms tenderly holding her …

  “Yes,” she admitted more softly, her hand absently pressing against her chest. “Only in our hearts, though. I was untouched when I went to Barnard’s bed. After that day at the inn, I put Gabriel into the past.”

  “Hmmmm, but did he do the same?” murmured Tristan under his breath, making some notes on a parchment at his side. He looked up. “So you were riding through the woods?”

  “Yes,” agreed Constance. “Then we ran into Frank.” She motioned toward the dark-haired man who sat opposite her.

  “So Frank stopped you three, by himself, as you were riding to the nunnery?” asked Tristan mildly.

  Constance shook her head in confusion. “No, we were already stopped,” she replied, thinking back.

  “Why was that?”

  “Because I had just realized …” her voice trailed off, and she looked up at Gabriel. His eyes were weary but resolute.

  “Had realized?” prompted Tristan calmly.

  Constance swallowed. Gabriel had seemed to feel it so important to keep this information hidden. While she could not guess at his reasons, she wished it was in her power to not have to reveal his secrets. Still, she could not lie, and she saw in his eyes that he understood.

  Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I realized that he was the leader of the Angelus.”

  Barnard and Frank exchanged looks of triumph, and Tristan scribbled a few more notes on his parchment. “How had you realized that?”

  Constance felt as if she were being lead down a path she could not escape. “He was the one who rescued me from the bandits, when I had been kidnapped, and the others reacted to him as they would to a leader. The Angelus had taken me immediately to his home. Later, when I was out at night with Ralph, Gabriel and two other Angelus ran into us, thinking we were bandits. Then, when we were heading to this nunnery, a group of Angelus were waiting to escort us, again looking to him as a leader.”

  Tristan wrote for several minutes, then looked up to meet her eyes. “So you were stopped in the woods, discussing this, when Frank came along? What then?”

  “Frank said that Barnard wanted me back, and that the bandits would try to ransom me again, now that my brother would be more likely to pay.”

  Tristan’s eyebrows quirked up slightly. “Did Frank say he was with the bandits?”

  Constance furrowed her brow, trying to remember his exact words. “No …” she responded slowly. “He said they should not be worried about Barnard … he said, ‘Let us try to keep the lady safe.’”

  Barnard nodded smugly to Frank, and Tristan shot them both a warning look. “Pray continue,” he prompted.

  “Frank and his soldiers escorted us to a keep deeper in the forest. It was late when we got there, and I was given a room to sleep in.”

  “Were you locked in?”

  Constance thought back to that night. She had been so exhausted …

  “No, there were simply guards outside my door.”

  Tristan nodded. “You slept until morning? Then what?”

  “I woke up, and went down for breakfast,” recited Constance slowly, focusing on the memories.

  “Who was there?”

  Constance automatically brought her eyes up to the men who sat across from her. “Frank was there, and Gabriel and Ralph. A few guards stood by as well.” Her eyes flitted to Barnard’s. “Barnard came in a little while later, while I was still eating.”

  “What happened next?”

  It seemed to Constance that her memory flitted and flowed. There were colors, sensations, and a dense fog that swirled around everything. “I … I went back up to my room?”

  Tristan lent forward, his arms on the table. “Alone?”

  Constance felt hemmed in, as if all eyes were on her, as if all the men present waited for what she would say. She felt the tears fall before she knew she was crying. In that whole dream-like morning, his face stood out in perfect clarity, pressing down on her, hitting her …

  She looked up to meet Gabriel’s eyes, her eyes streaming. His eyes were rich with anguish.

  Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she bit out her answer. “I told him I would not dishonor our love by sleeping with him in this manner,” she growled. She saw the pride shine in Gabriel’s eyes, and her fury rose at his reaction. He was proud of his attack on her?

  She flung herself to her feet, staring down at the men around the table. “Do you know what he said? He said ‘vows are meant to be broken’! He said ‘honor is meaningless’! This from the man I trusted with my life! How could he say these things? Then he forced me down on the bed … he punched me when I resisted him …”

  Gabriel’s eyes instantly filled with raw shock, his face going pale. His voice was ripped from his soul, anguished. “Constance, I swear -”

  The dagger was pressed hard against his throat, drawing a ribbon of red along it. Gabriel was pulled up hard against it, his voice cutting off, but his eyes pleaded with her to believe him.

  She turned away sharply, her breath coming in heaves, refusing to see his face, to listen to his lies. She heard Tristan’s voice coming as if from far away, concerned but insistent.

  “It was Gabriel who did this to you? Who inflicted these wounds? Not Barnard?”

  “It was Gabriel,” she cried out, moving away from the table, away from the man she had trusted, had loved. Her eyes went back to meet his again, unwilling to believe her own memories, and then she was in motion, running … running …

  She collapsed on her bed, her breath barely pulling into her lungs between the heart-wrenching sobs. It felt as if her world were collapsing around her. In a short while the gentle arms of her aunt were around her, and she lay in her embrace, a river of sorrow coursing through her. It seemed that hours went by, draining her.

  She was completely exhausted, and two pairs of hands helped her sit back up on the bed, leaning against the side wall. Her aunt pressed a mug of mead into her hands, helping her raise it to her mouth for a long, grateful swallow. Constance finally looked up, emptied of all energy, looking between the two women.

  The Abbess sat beside her, taking Constance’s hands in her own. “My poor dear, you have been through more than any woman should have to bear. I want you to know you can stay here as long as you wish. You have the full support of our abbey behind you.”

  Constance’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “Thank you.”

  Abbess Agnes patted her hand comfortingly. “Let us get some food into you. I am sure you are starving. Then we can see how you feel.”

  Silvia went to the door, and in a few minutes a sister brought in a tray with fresh eggs and spinach. Constance did not feel hungry, but she dutifully made an attempt to eat the food. She did feel slightly better once she had, and gave a weak smile to her hosts.

  Agnes waved for the tray to be brought away, and offered Constance another mug of mead.

  “My dear,” she murmured, once Constance had settled back against the wall again, “I know you have been through a lot – but if you feel up to it, I would like to talk a little.”

  Constance nodded, her shoulders tightening. “I will do my best,” she promised.

  Agnes folded her hands together, keeping her gaze down at her hands, her tone neutral. “I have known you since you were a little girl, Constance, and I know that you are honest and dependable. I would trust you in any situation.”

  The Abbess interlaced her fingers together slowly. “I have also known Gabriel and Ralph for many years,” she added quietly. “Both men have proven their courage to me many times over.”

  She looked over at Sylvia for a moment, then returned her gaze gently to her hands. “Your aunt and I are not saying that you are false in any way. I hope you understand that. I just want to feel more secure in what went on. Things will begin to move very quickly. The bandit a
ccusation is a serious charge. The …” she paused for a long moment, then took in a breath and continued. “The executioner has been called for. Arrangements are being made for the judgment to be carried out less than a week from today.”

  A shiver ran through Constance. It was all too much to take in; so many events had occurred so quickly. She wished she could have several weeks to hide out on an island, to recover, to think about what had happened, what it meant. She knew she did not have that luxury.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Agnes spoke quietly, calmly. “Was there a brazier by your bed?”

  Of all the questions she expected, Constance was thrown off guard by this one. It seemed so neutral, so free of emotion. “Well, yes,” she agreed, thinking back in time. The words began to come more easily to her, with such an innocuous topic to discuss. “A bronze one, quite pretty, actually. It had this deliciously fragranced incense in it. I suppose Barnard must have put it there for me, maybe to cover the scent of lingering mildew. The keep did not look as if it had been occupied before we arrived.”

  Agnes nodded neutrally. “Now this next question may seem a little odd. During your time at the keep, did you see anything … unreal? I mean, besides people who treated you poorly. Was there anything you saw or heard which seemed fantastical?”

  Constance shook her head at the question. What could Agnes possibly mean? She thought back through the day. Everything had gone from calm and happy to terrifying in the blink of an eye. What was not unreal about the day? Still, she tried to remember …

  She blushed deeply. She looked up hesitantly at the Abbess, unsure about sharing her thoughts. “You will never believe me,” she cautioned quietly.

  “You would be surprised,” replied Agnes with an encouraging smile. “What did you see?”