by Shea,Lisa
“When Ga-” Constance dropped her eyes, finding she could not bring herself to say his name. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “When I was being hit, I must have received a serious blow to the head. Suddenly it seemed like … my attacker … turned into a demon, complete with wings and fire. Then, suddenly, there was an angel in the room, with a sword, protecting me.”
Agnes nodded in understanding. “What happened to the demon?”
Constance was surprised that Agnes was taking this so calmly. “He evaporated – floated out of the room – when Ralph showed up.”
Agnes waited a few moments. When she spoke again, her voice was coaxing. “Constance, the brazier on the dresser was stocked with opium. This is a drug made from poppies – a type of flower. Inhaling the smoke causes unreal visions.”
Constance looked up in surprise. “So I really did see those things? Even the cerulean unicorn?”
A smile quirked the corner of Agnes’ mouth, but she nodded in agreement. “Yes, even the cerulean unicorn. Your mind would be completely certain that it saw those things. Ralph said the room was a dense fog by the time he got up there.”
Constance sat up. “Someone drugged me?”
Agnes nodded again. “I think Barnard was looking to make you more compliant. So let us think about breakfast. Where was everybody sitting at the table?”
Constance relaxed a bit. Breakfast had been calm, happy. There were no dangerous memories there.
“Barnard was on one side of me, and Frank was on the other. Gabriel and Ralph sat across the table.”
Agnes again kept her focus on her hands, allowing Constance to take her time. “Then Barnard suggested you go upstairs, with Gabriel.”
Constance nodded uncertainly, knowing that the dangerous ground was coming. So far, the memories were still safe. “Yes,” she agreed.
Agnes kept her voice neutral. “So you took his hands across the table?”
Constance shook her head, her memories suddenly tangling. “No, he was standing beside me,” she responded, speaking slowly. “He was on my right.”
“You said he was across from you …?”
“Yes, he was, but then …” Constance suddenly realized where the men had been, and froze.
“That was where … Frank was,” she whispered hoarsely.
Agnes pressed forward gently but firmly. “Then the man who held your hands showed you something?”
Constance refocused her attention, grabbing onto something solid. “Yes, his medallion,” she agreed, glad that a memory was making sense. “It is how I knew he was Gabriel. I mean, I thought I knew, but I seemed unsure. He seemed like he was … wavering.”
“You noticed something about the medallion,” suggested Agnes.
“Yes,” confirmed Constance, her eyes sharpening on Agnes, suddenly curious about how well the Abbess knew the details which she could barely latch onto. “I commented that it was looking to the right, and … the man … said that I was right by his side.”
“However …” encouraged Agnes quietly.
“Gabriel’s dragon points to the left,” stated Constance, her world suddenly coming into sharp focus. “It keeps his sword arm free. He always kept me on his left.”
“So whose medallion pointed to the right?”
Constance replied without hesitation. “Mine. My medallion. The one that had been ripped off my neck by the bandits, when I was kidnapped.”
Silvia offered Constance the mug of mead. Constance took it gratefully, downing a long draught, thoughts swirling in her head. She had been drugged, had been immersed in fantasies. Gabriel had been sitting across the table from her – not at her side. It had been Frank who had brought her upstairs, not Gabriel.
It had been Frank who attacked her.
She stood up suddenly, looking between the two women with alarm. “I have got to go see Tristan!” she insisted in panic. “The things I said! They will think Gabriel -”
“Sit, sit,” soothed Agnes gently. “I know the assault on you was very serious. However, in terms of the law, the murders and thefts associated with the bandits are what carry the death penalty. We need to find a way to prove those charges are false.”
Constance sat down slowly. “How can we clear them? I know Gabriel is with the Angelus,” she admitted. “He is the leader of those mercenaries.”
“The mercenaries are not part of the bandits,” countered Agnes with certainty. “They are explicitly here to help protect us, and the innocents of this area, from the bandit menace.”
“How do we prove that?” asked Constance, sitting forward.
Agnes shook her head. “Barnard and his crew have been busy. The brazier which was in your room has vanished. The study was stocked with papers supposedly linking the bandits with the Angelus. There were one or two inexpensive items from the burglaries there as well.” She paused. “However, all of the more valuable items are still missing”
Agnes looked over at Silvia for a moment, nodding her head.
Silvia sat alongside her niece, taking her hand. “Constance, we need to find the true identity of the bandits. We need substantial proof. Otherwise, the Angelus will be put to death – and many innocent people will be without protection.”
A surge of energy filled Constance. “What can I do?”
Silvia looked down. “Frank had your medallion. We received a full report on what the men had said from Tristan, before we brought you down to him. It was part of our conditions for him talking with you so quickly. The dialogue that Gabriel and Ralph heard would seem to indicate …” she hesitated, then looked tenderly at her niece. “It seems to show that your husband is involved with the bandits.”
For some reason, Constance was not surprised at all. She seemed beyond shock at this point. “It would certainly explain many things,” she mused. She took in a deep breath. “So you want me to go back home … with Barnard,” she continued with resolution.
Silvia held her hands, her eyes serious. “This involves a great deal of risk, and if there were any other way, we would not even think of asking you. However, there are a lot of lives at stake here – innocent lives. We do not want you to do anything at all which might bring you to harm. Just keep your eyes open, and if you find something, get word to us.”
Agnes sat forward. “We can arrange for Vera, your friend from North Sunderland, to join you at the keep. That way you will have someone else within the walls to support you.”
Silvia looked to Agnes with concern. “However, we two cannot go with you. That would be suspect.”
Constance looked to her two friends with renewed conviction. “I will do it. I just wish … is there any way I can see Gabriel before I go? I know time is short, but …”
Agnes nodded decisively. “I am sure we can arrange it. There is not a moment to lose.” She looked up at Silvia.
Silvia was standing before Agnes said a word. “I am on it,” she agreed. She hurried out the door and was gone.
Agnes smiled fondly at Constance, patting her on the knee. “You are a brave woman,” she praised her friend. “You carry the hopes of many on your shoulders.”
Constance shook her head, looking off into the distance. “Gabriel is the brave one,” she responded softly. “He put his head into the noose to protect us all. He is sitting in that cell, facing death, for crimes he did not commit. He should be earning a medal for his efforts, rather than being held prisoner.”
Agnes nodded in agreement. “Together, we will free him,” she vowed. “Just you wait and see.”
Silvia slipped back into the room. “It is all in motion,” she let them know with a tentative smile. “Barnard and Frank will undoubtedly be here in an instant when they hear you are willing to return with them. Tristan would not miss the reunion for the world. I get the sense that he is still not convinced he knows the whole truth here.”
Constance nodded, and brought her hand to her chest, to the hollow space there. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she could almost feel Gabriel’s lo
ve wrap around her, nestling her in its warmth.
She opened her eyes in determination. Whatever it took, she would set him free.
Chapter 22
Silvia and the Abbess took their time helping to make Constance presentable. When all was ready, they walked down to Abbess Agnes’ office to prepare for their visitors. Silvia headed out to the main hall to wait for the arrivals. Constance did not have long to pace the floor. Within moments, Silvia slipped into the room to let them know that Tristan had arrived.
“Ladies,” he greeted them cordially, walking into the room, his eyes sharp on Constance. “Are you sure you are ready to return home so quickly,” he added with curiosity. “You seemed quite shaken by the events, and rightfully so.”
Constance gave a small smile. “I am upset,” she agreed. “That is why I want to go home. Everything is upside down and confused. I want to be in my own bed, in my own surroundings.”
A haughty voice came from the door. “As well she should be.” Barnard strode in, flanked by Frank. “My wife belongs in my home, under my protection.” He stopped by Constance’s side and nodded slightly to Tristan. “Sheriff.”
“Barnard,” answered Tristan coolly.
Agnes spoke from her position behind her elegant wooden desk. “There are two conditions on my releasing her from my care here,” she interjected evenly.
All three men’s heads swiveled to meet her gaze. Barnard’s features creased with anger, but he held his tongue with visible effort.
“First, I would like for Vera to join Constance, to care for her. Given her injuries, Constance will need an attentive nurse for the first week or two. Vera is a childhood friend of hers.”
Barnard’s face relaxed. “Done. I will send a coach for her immediately,” he replied. “The second condition?”
Agnes flicked her eyes toward Constance for a quick moment, then looked back to meet Tristan’s. “Constance would like to face Gabriel again, to address him personally about what he did to her.”
Tristan looked cautiously at Barnard. “I am not sure that is the best of ideas, to -”
Barnard beamed with joy. “I think this is fantastic,” he interrupted, rubbing his hands together. He realized suddenly that all eyes were on him, and his features became more tender. He lowered a hand to pat his wife on the shoulder. “My darling should of course find resolution for her anger, retribution for what was done to her,” he added with firmness. “If this will help her recover, then I am all for it.”
A sharp look flitted past Tristan’s eyes, but he masked it quickly behind a neutral nod. “Of course. We can head over to where they are being held now, if everyone is ready.”
Constance nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “I would appreciate that,” she agreed, looking up hesitantly. “The sooner I am home, the sooner I can start feeling more like myself again.”
Barnard tucked a conciliatory arm around her, guiding her from the room, and the others followed behind. Together they reached the horses and coaches in the courtyard. In a few moments, the coaches were slowly making their way to the center of town.
It seemed a mere heartbeat to Constance until she was being helped back out of the coach. The dark, drab building loomed above her, a solid structure built of grey stone. A shiver ran down her spine. Gabriel was somewhere in here, trapped, facing death. She sturdied her resolve. It was up to her to prove his innocence, to rescue him, as he had been her savior so many times.
She followed behind Tristan and Barnard, her nervousness growing with every step. They moved across the main floor, with a meeting hall and private chambers, its décor functional and plain. At the back wall they reached a thick, metal-banded door. A stout, serious guard stood at attention before it. He nodded to Tristan before turning the key in the lock and pulling it wide. The dark stairs down filled her heart with trepidation.
Tristan looked to Barnard as they took up a pair of torches and descended. “We have captured ten of the Angelus already,” the sheriff explained with some pride. “According to our investigations, there are only two left. We should have them in another day or so.”
“Good, good,” agreed Barnard, his eyes sparkling. “Very soon this will all be over.”
They reached the bottom of the flight. Dark cells lined either side of a long hallway, torches flickering in between each pair of rooms. Shadowy forms lurked in the back of each cell, far from sight. Constance peered in at each one, half afraid it would be Gabriel, that she would be met with eyes full of accusation and scorn.
To her relief, each man was a stranger. They were each well-built, either doing simple calisthenics or sitting, cross-legged, staring at a wall in calm silence.
They came to the last cell on the left, and Tristan stopped without a word. He motioned for Barnard to step back, then waited, his face neutral.
Constance’s heart pounded against her chest. Multiple sets of eyes were watching her every word, her every look. She put it all out of her mind. Only one thing mattered – Gabriel.
She stepped forward slowly until she stood at arm’s length from the bars. She stood there, silently, looking in, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dismal light. A man was kneeling in the back corner, still, his eyes closed. There was a long moment of silence while he sat motionless, pressing a hand meditatively against his chest. At last he opened his eyes and swiveled his head.
He stood instantly, locking eyes with Constance, striding forward to press himself against the bars. Relief washed over her. His hands were steady and strong as his fingers wrapped around the metal rods. His eyes were clear, and they held a pleading intensity.
“Connie – I swear I would never lay a hand on you,” he vowed vehemently without preamble, his words coming as if they had been recited over the hours as a litany. “Whatever else happens, I need you to believe that.”
Constance’s world crystallized into this one moment. She put every ounce of love and tenderness she possessed into her eyes and face. In the dark surroundings, with the other men behind her, only Gabriel would be able to see her features clearly. In contrast, into her voice she burnt the sharpest disdain she could conjure. She visualized that her words were aimed toward Barnard, who stood behind her. She hoped against all hope that she got the balance right.
“I now know the truth of what transpired at the keep,” she hissed. “I will not allow that to happen to any other innocent person.”
Gabriel straightened up slightly, flexing his fingers on the bars. His head cocked to the side, and his gaze sharpened on Constance’s eyes with careful attention. “What you went through, no woman should have to endure,” he agreed slowly, running one hand down the bar absently, searching her face.
“They will shortly have all your men rounded up, the Angelus,” she continued, her eyes tender, her voice rough. “However, they have only found a few trinkets in your hideout. The bandits have taken far more than that over the past few years. Where are all the valuables?”
Gabriel’s voice came ripped from within him, as if he had been pleading this issue for hours. “My men, the Angelus, have fought the bandit presence from the start,” he reiterated, his eyes flashing to Tristan’s for a moment. “These men are honorable and are guilty of no crime. Together we exist to protect the innocents of the area.” His eyes moved toward Tristan again. “You find that stash of jewelry and stolen items, and you will find who is truly behind the bandit raids.”
Constance gave the slightest of nods, the merest flicker of her eyes in acknowledgement.
Barnard’s voice was preemptory. “Enough,” he called out. He strode up to stand alongside Constance. “My dear, this man shall trouble you no longer. In a week he will be dead, and his vermin friends shall hang alongside him.” He slid his arm around Constance’s waist, smiling at the resulting flinch that flashed through Gabriel’s shoulders.
Barnard held Gabriel’s eyes with his own, triumph glowing in them. “Come, my wife, it is time for us to return to our home.”
Gabriel�
�s hands instinctively tightened on the bars. “Home?” he cried in shock, his eyes flickering between Bernard and Constance. Then, after a long moment he started, all blood draining from his face. Connie knew that he had realized her plan, had put together her willingness to return with Barnard and the challenge of finding the hidden treasure.
Her heart began hammering wildly in her chest. She was suddenly infinitely aware of Barnard’s thin arm around her waist, of Gabriel’s strength and loyalty only an arm’s reach before her, and how the situation balanced on the point of a knife. If Gabriel said anything to raise Barnard’s suspicions even a hair, Barnard’s rage would know no bounds. He could lock her in her room, hold her captive, and all hope of saving Gabriel would be gone.
Gabriel could be lost to her forever.
Gabriel’s gaze flashed through fierce pride, bitter frustration, and then shimmered into an emotion Constance had never seen on his face before – fear. Constance could see the tenuous hold he had on his self-control in the ice-white knuckles which gripped the bars. His voice, when it came, was low, guttural, almost a whisper of a plea.
“Connie, no …”
Constance had chosen her path, and she clung to it as a shipwrecked sailor on a tempest-tossed lifeboat. She leant slightly into Barnard to distract him, to reassure him of her loyalty, while she held Gabriel’s eyes with her own, reassuring him that he could trust her, that he had to let her go. There was no other choice. If he gave any indication of her plan, it would spell doom for them both.
“Vera is coming to stay with me. With her help, I will find what I seek.” She gave Barnard a pat on the hand, but her gaze was only for Gabriel, only for the man who stood before her, the man she had depended on for so many years. Now she would be there for him, no matter what it took.
Her voice trembled, and she fought to hold it firm. “Soon my life will be exactly the way it should be.”
“Oh, Con …” he whispered, his voice laced with agony. His shoulder muscles rippled and tensed. Constance half expected the bars to bend beneath his exertions, to melt as butter in the summer sun, and for him to press past them, come to her side, the consummate, loyal guardian she trusted with her life.