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

by Shea,Lisa

  She nodded softly to him. This time he could not. This time it would be her who risked all to save him from death.

  Gabriel closed his eyes for a long moment, pressing his forehead against the cold metal, taking in a full, deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and gazed straight into her own.

  “I love you,” he breathed, his eyes serene, the depths going on for an eternity.

  Constance’s world froze in a shimmering of torchlight and the echoes of those three words. In the many long years they had been together, they had never given voice to their feelings, never pledged their love out loud. It had been an undercurrent which had flowed around and through and within every action they had taken, every glance, every word spoken. But never once had she heard the words pass his lips, not even in her dreams.

  The moment etched itself on her mind with crystalline clarity. She knew she would never forget the sound of his voice as he said those words, would never forget his eyes as he released all pretense and opened his heart fully to her.

  With the watchers around her, Constance knew she could not respond in any way, not give Barnard the slightest hint of how profoundly Gabriel’s words had affected her. She found she could not trust herself to speak, and she grasped desperately at her self-control, to keep even the slightest hint of her reaction from Barnard and Tristan.

  Gabriel’s eyes held hers for one last moment, and then, with an effort that caused his hands to tremble slightly, he carefully unlaced his fingers from the bars. He turned his head and retreated back into the shadows of his cell. Gabriel settled himself down to sit against the back corner, closed his eyes, and became still.

  Constance’s world started up again, her shoulders sagged in relief, and she half slumped against Barnard, only partially feigning her weakness. He chuckled, patting her on the shoulder. “That was well done, my dear,” he reassured her, and then in a moment they were turning, walking back down the dark aisle, climbing the stone steps and emerging once more into the sunlight. Constance found there were tears streaming from her eyes, and she shakily used her sleeve to wipe them clear, keeping her eyes lowered.

  Barnard clapped her on the back, smiling with pleasure. “I know that was rough on you, my dear, but I must admit that you have more spunk in you than I give you credit for sometimes.” His grin widened. “That was, in fact, quite impressive,” he commented with a tone of pride in his voice.

  “You not only laid out the certainty of his impending doom, but you left the man without a hope in the world.” His eyes twinkled with delight.

  Tristan came up behind the couple, his eyes attentively moving between them. “Yes, that was eye opening,” he agreed with an even voice. His look moved to hold Constance. “You are returning home with Barnard now?”

  Constance nodded, wiping away the remaining tears, a knot of nervousness twisting in the depths of her stomach. The overwhelming danger she was about to willingly step into suddenly shimmered into reality for her. She would be beyond help, without protection …

  “Would you care for an escort?” Tristan offered mildly.

  Relief swept across her, and immediately she shook her head, fighting to control her features, to keep her look calm and serene. She could not let it be shown that she had any qualms, any concerns about being with the man known as her husband.

  “I am sure we will be fine,” she demurred, forcing herself to look up to Barnard with a gaze of trust.

  “Of course we will,” agreed Barnard expansively, puffing up with pride. “We will be home just after dark. No problem at all.”

  “As you wish,” agreed Tristan with a nod, his eyes cataloguing silently.

  Barnard’s eyes moved to his second-in-command. “In fact, Frank, you will stay here and help Tristan with his tasks. Arrange for a room at the inn until these men are hung and dead.”

  Frank opened his mouth to object, his eyes going quickly to Constance with a flash of desire. He promptly pressed his lips together, frustration vanishing behind a mask of resolve.

  “Of course,” he agreed smoothly. “We would not want to disturb Constance at all with her memories so … fresh.” He glanced sideways at Tristan. “I mean, we want to resolve this for her as soon as possible. I will do my part to ensure all of the Angelus are caught and hung as quickly as possible. Their reign of terror must be brought to a swift end.”

  “I appreciate that,” agreed Tristan with an even look. His eyes turned to gaze again at Constance. “Speaking of which, I assume you will be back for the ceremony on Tuesday?”

  Constance responded instantly, without a second of hesitation. “Yes. Absolutely.” Her throat tightened up at the realization that she was planning to attend Gabriel’s hanging.

  Barnard beamed with pleasure. “You are quite the girl,” he lauded her, patting her on the arm. “Of course you should be able to witness that sight. I would not miss it for the world.”

  Tristan’s voice was neutral. “Maybe you might wish to say a few words, before the crowd,” he added. “Sometimes it helps a victim to have that … catharsis.”

  “I would like that,” agreed Constance, looking at Tristan with sharper interest. What was that behind his professional eyes? The officer only nodded in acceptance and showed the couple out the main door.

  Constance stepped into the bright light of day and drew in a deep breath. Gabriel, the man she loved with all her heart, was locked in a dark cell. He faced the certainty of a hangman’s noose. She would do everything in her power to prevent that from happening.

  Chapter 23

  Constance leant against the window of the coach, staring at the dense woods as they scrolled past her gaze. If she had been told three days ago that she would be voluntarily riding home with Barnard, back to the purgatory of his home, back to his control …

  She shook her head, focusing her thoughts. There was no retreating from her chosen course now. She knew the abbey would do what it could to help, but she was certain in her heart that the stolen goods were stored somewhere in the keep she had lived in these past six years. Barnard was too arrogant, too jealous, too untrusting to allow his possessions to be far from his grasp. Not only would they be within the walls of his home, but they would be somewhere he could easily visit, to fondle and admire.

  She ensured her answers to him were low and weak as they rode, emphasizing her poor health and inability to cause trouble. Barnard looked even more pleased as the journey progressed. By the time they arrived at the main gates, a cloud-covered moon was high in the sky and Constance was well and truly exhausted.

  She was thrilled beyond words to see Vera waiting for her in the courtyard as the coach pulled to a stop. Barnard was unusually gracious, greeting Vera as a welcome guest and helping guide Constance up to her room.

  He even deigned to wait for a moment while Constance was settling in to bed. “We are glad you are here, Vera,” he commented, his voice resplendent with the warmth of a proper host. “You have been provided with a room to your liking?”

  “Yes, thank you very much,” she agreed quickly. “My room is right next to Constance, so that I might tend to her easily.”

  “Good, good …” replied Barnard absently, already turning from the room. “You two rest for as long as you need to. I have many things to attend to, as you might imagine. I will have food sent up to you in a while.”

  He was gone in a moment, but Vera waited alertly, ensuring his footsteps went far down the hall, and then down the stairs, before quietly moving to firmly shut the door. That done, she ran back to the bed to envelop her friend in a warm embrace, holding her close.

  “Oh Constance, what has happened? When I heard you wanted me to come tend to you here, I packed immediately – but what are you thinking? Your brother told me you were to be safely in the nunnery for several weeks yet!”

  “Please keep your voice low,” responded Constance, glancing toward the door with caution.

  Vera looked about her, then snuggled even more tightly against her friend, pressin
g her face against the pillow.

  “It is as if we are children again, whispering secrets and hiding from our parents,” she joked gently, her eyes sparking with merriment despite the gravity of their situation.

  Constance allowed herself to smile. “Yes, and we will have to use all of the skills we learned back then to get through the next week.”

  Vera’s eyebrows raised with interest. “So this is going to be something more than bringing you soup. I thought as much. Tell me everything.”

  Constance kept her voice low and hushed, and carefully laid out everything that had happened since she had left her brother’s keep. In addition to needing Vera’s help, she also wanted another witness able to speak on her behalf should something happen. She had given most of the details to her aunt and the Abbess, but now, with the luxury of time and Vera’s undivided attention, she went through the events step by step, item by item.

  It was several hours later by the time she had finished, and Vera’s eyes were wide with surprise. “I cannot believe you are still sane after all of that,” she whispered in amazement. “You should be taking bed rest for several weeks, or even months, you poor thing!”

  Constance shook her head resolutely. “There is no time,” she reiterated. “In five days they will be killing the only men strong enough to stand up to the bandits – men of courage, of honor. It is time for us to do our part, to make that same stand.”

  “I am ready,” stated Vera promptly. “Just tell me what to do.” Her hand went absently to the bruises on her face, now faded, but still fresh in her memory. “I am willing to do anything to ensure those bandits are stopped permanently.”

  Constance gave a tender smile to her friend. “We both are,” she agreed. “I imagine we will leave here Monday evening to ensure we are there for the Tuesday ceremony. Today is already over. That leaves us three full days in the middle for our searches. We will have to be careful, but diligent. Barnard would not have left his contraband anywhere obvious, anywhere that a servant might accidentally come across it. We will have to think as he does, and be watchful.”

  “We can do it,” swore Vera firmly. “We must.”

  The women sat for another hour, discussing each room in the building, weighing its likelihood. When the knock came on the door with two trays of steaming stew, the women were grateful for the break, and lingered over their meal with pleasure, renewing their strength, preparing themselves for the task ahead.

  * * *

  The next day dawned bright and sunny, and a lightness eased into Constance’s heart. The lovely weather meant most of the staff would find reasons to be outside, in the fresh air, and their searching efforts might be unhindered.

  She lay in bed quietly for a long while, creating her own personal time of Matins. She gave thanks that Gabriel was still alive, was safe, if only for today. She gave thanks that Vera was here to assist her with the search. She closed her eyes, summoning the image of Gabriel, sending him her strength, her prayers, her love.

  A firm knock came at the door, and Barnard pushed his way in.

  “My dear, how are you feeling this morning?” he asked jovially.

  Constance blinked wearily, working to ensure her movements were as feeble as possible. “I am still so tired, Barnard. I think it best I stay in my room for the day.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “I will be out riding with some of my friends, but Vera will see to your every need, I have no doubt.”

  Constance allowed herself a quiet smile. “Yes, please, put us out of your thoughts. We will be fine here. You go enjoy the sunshine.”

  Barnard did not need urging. “Until tomorrow!” he called out, and in a heartbeat he was gone. The door had barely closed when it opened again and Vera slipped in. “It seems he was in a good mood,” she commented, going to her friend’s side.

  “We could not hope for a better start,” stated Constance with a smile. “Let us work on the upper floor today. It is only the bedrooms and guest chambers. He might be using one of the empty bedrooms for storage, I might imagine. It seems unlikely to me. Still, it is the easiest place to start. None would question our poking around in the bedrooms up here, and it is most likely that nobody will see us. Once the maid finishes with her morning sweep, they will all be out and about, and should not return to our floor until evening.”

  “I will go let the cook know that I will fetch food when needed,” suggested Vera with a nod. “We will have the floor to ourselves!”

  Constance dressed while Vera went on her mission. Her friend returned shortly with an assortment of cheese and bread. The two ate a quick breakfast, then got started.

  They moved slowly, carefully through each room. Most were empty guest rooms, but there were several storage rooms as well. They pulled at floor boards, pushed at chimney stones, peered out windows. They used a stool to get closer to the ceiling and press at the timbers there.

  As the long hours dragged on, Constance kept the image of Gabriel trapped in that dark cell before her. She pressed a hand to her chest, where her medallion should be, where her connection to Gabriel was lodged. It was absolutely imperative that she find the stolen items in the next three days.

  She crawled under beds, holding her breath against the dust. She went to the bottom of each cupboard, to the top of each cobwebby corner. There was nothing.

  Constance even braved the long, rickety stairs which led to the open roof. Only servants went up here, to patch leaky holes and to clean the chimneys. There was nothing on the faded stone platform but stray branches and an ancient bird’s nest.

  As the afternoon faded into evening, there was only one room left on the floor to look through – Barnard’s. This was the riskiest room on the floor to search. None would question Constance being in any other room of the day’s search – there were simple enough excuses which would make complete sense. Explaining her presence in Barnard’s bedroom would be far more problematic.

  Constance gave a wry grin as Vera stationed herself out front as a lookout, then she slipped into the chamber. It was ironic that the one room a wife should not be expected in was her husband’s bedchambers. She took in a deep breath. She would have to be as quick as humanly possible – and as thorough as she could be. Out of all the rooms on this floor, this was the only one where she expected any chance of success.

  She stood for a long moment, allowing her eyes to sweep around the room, refamiliarizing herself with its contents. There were inlaid wood boxes on his polished oak dresser, their lids open, each holding a selection of gold and silver rings. Gold embroidery ran down his deep burgundy curtains and matching blankets covered his large bed. The headboard was inlaid with several rubies. Twin wardrobes on the back wall stood open; each holding a wealth of dressing gowns and slippers. Constance had already gone through his many other outfits in the spare room closets.

  Constance focused on her task with pinpoint precision. Every board was tested and sounded. Every location on the wall was prodded and mentally compared with the adjoining rooms. She looked under the dresser drawers and ensured they slid back to meet the wall. She looked for compartments beneath the bed.

  Finally, she just stood in the center of the room, gazing around with a sense of completion. She was now sure that the cache was not on this floor of the house.

  The silence pulled at her, and she began to look at the room not as a location to search, but as an actual bedroom. She remembered the earliest days of her stay, when she was nervous about being with Barnard, when she had hoped to bring a child into the world. This had been a room of expectations then, of fresh beginnings. What had happened?

  A hurried knock came on the door – Vera’s warning signal. Constance gave one last look around the room to ensure everything was exactly as it had been, then sprinted to the door, slipping through it, closing it gently behind her. There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and then Barnard came up to the landing, stopping in surprise as he caught sight of her.

  “Constance? What are yo
u doing out of bed?” he asked with concern.

  Constance dropped her eyes as her mind raced through her options. She kept her eyes lowered, her voice weary. “I was lost in old memories,” she admitted truthfully, her voice echoing her regret. “I was thinking of when I first came home with you.”

  “My dear, of course you are lonely,” responded Barnard as he walked to her side. Constance looked up, surprised to hear a note of tenderness in his voice. “Come, I have a few moments. Lay with me for a while.”

  A shiver of nervousness ran down her spine. “I do not know if I am up to -”

  Barnard smiled gently, patting her on her shoulder. “Just to rest and talk,” he expanded. “It has been a long while since we did that. After all you have been through, I think it might help.”

  Constance nodded at Vera, then allowed Barnard to lead her through the door into his room, the room that, until today, she had not entered in these past five years. He guided her around to the bed, helping her to sit back against the pillows. Then, true to his word, he laid down next to her, not touching her, simply being there.

  Constance slowly relaxed, and found herself remembering those early days. Barnard had been patient and understanding as he exposed his new partner to the intimacies of conjugal life. What had happened?

  Apparently Barnard’s thoughts were drifting in the same direction. “We have been through a lot, you and I,” he commented quietly, his eyes closed. “There was a time that I blamed you for our problems in creating a family. I was furious with your failings. I railed against you for wasting ten years of my life.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I want you to know, you are not responsible. I am sure, with the right man, you would be a wonderful mother. It seems it is my line which is flawed.”

  His voice was so dejected, so drenched in utter despair that despite all her myriad feelings Constance felt drawn to respond. “Barnard, there is always hope. Maybe -”