Secret Heart

by Speer, Flora

  “I do not know,” Jenia said. “I was unconscious before I left the corridor here in the castle. Chantal received the same harsh treatment. We both tried to discover where we were, in hope that we could find a way to escape, or to get a message to Garit. All the guards would tell us was that they were acting on your orders.”

  “They lied,” Henryk said yet again, speaking through clenched teeth.

  “Jenia, listen to me,” Roarke said. “I talked with King Henryk several times after Chantal disappeared. I know him well, and I do believe he was honestly upset and worried about her. I am absolutely certain he had nothing to do with your abduction.”

  “I agree with Roarke,” Garit said. “King Henryk did everything possible to find Chantal. We didn’t even know about your disappearance, or we would have been as worried about you as we were about Chantal. But, after all, since you pretended to be an almost invisible servant, you should have expected that your sudden absence wouldn’t be noticed,” he finished, glaring at her.

  “Jenia,” said Lord Giles, speaking in a kinder tone than Garit’s, “I have known King Henryk for many years. I cannot believe he was a part of the plot you describe. As proof, I offer the fact that he has never since Lady Chantal’s disappearance made any attempt to seize her lands.”

  “The guards repeatedly said he was to blame,” Jenia insisted.

  “Perhaps, the guards were lying,” suggested Lord Mage Serlion, who so far had listened in silence. “Isn’t it possible they were told to lie in order to implicate a good and honest king in so foul a deed?”

  “Told by whom?” Jenia asked, her former certainty wavering in the face of so many testaments to King Henryk’s honor.

  “By the true villain, of course,” said Serlion.

  “It must be Walderon,” Garit exclaimed. “I have believed from the beginning that he had something to do with Chantal’s disappearance. Roarke and I both questioned him, to no avail. We went after Malin, too, and questioned him as well. Neither man would admit any knowledge of this affair.”

  “It pains me to suggest any good of Lord Malin,” Queen Hannorah said, “but perhaps in this case, he told you the truth. If Walderon arranged to have his nieces abducted, the last person he would include in his plan would be Malin. If Malin did not marry Chantal, he’d never take possession of Thury, or of her other estates. It seems to me that those lands, added to Jenia’s estate of Gildeley, provide an excellent motive for a dishonest man to rid himself of a pair of wards whom he considered troublesome – assuming Walderon is in fact the guilty party.”

  “You may well be right, my lady,” Roarke said with a glance of approval for the queen’s clear thinking.

  “Jenia, continue your story,” King Henryk ordered. “We must know all of it before we can reach any sure conclusions. How long were you and Lady Chantal imprisoned?”

  “I believe for half a year or more. At first, I tried to count the days, but the chamber where we were kept was so dark that I finally gave up trying to distinguish one day from another. But it was springtime when we were seized and now it’s early autumn.”

  “Were you tortured?” the king asked. “Or molested in any way?”

  “No. I thank heaven for that much,” Jenia said, “though we were left cold and hungry.”

  “What else can you tell us?” Roarke asked. “Come on, Jenia, you must remember something useful.”

  “Only one detail,” she answered. “Because of the way we were dressed, the guards assumed that I was Chantal, and she was me. We never corrected their mistake because Chantal hoped we would eventually find a way to use their error against them. In the end, our masquerade led to her murder.” Jenia fell silent then, thinking of the manner of Chantal’s death.

  At that point Lord Giles took Jenia’s hand.

  “Surely, you know,” he said in a gentle tone, “that you must tell us how your cousin died. The king must know so he can administer justice, and you must speak the words aloud before witnesses if you are ever to recover.”

  “I never will recover,” Jenia whispered. Lord Giles pressed her hand in obvious sympathy. Then, to her surprise, Roarke slipped an arm around her waist.

  “I believe every word you’ve spoken here,” he said. “Tell us now, Jenia. For Chantal’s sake, complete your quest to obtain justice for her. Fulfill the promise you made in that dungeon.” He looked deep into her eyes, encouraging her.

  “One day, or possibly it was one night,” Jenia said, speaking as calmly as she could, “the guards stormed into our cell and seized us. When Chantal demanded to know what they were going to do with us, they said only that they were taking us away on King Henryk’s orders. They slapped her and pulled her hair and told her that a servant ought to know her rightful place. When I screamed at them to leave her alone, they hit me, too.”

  “Oh, dear heaven above,” Garit said with a sob. He covered his face with his hands, and Lord Giles placed an arm across his shoulders as if to lend support.

  “Go on,” Roarke urged Jenia, tightening the arm he’d kept around her waist.

  “The guards began to drag us out of the cell. Chantal made a very loud and vigorous protest, demanding that her ‘mistress’ be released at once. I think she believed we were being taken out to be executed and perhaps she hoped to save me.”

  “Yes, that would be like her,” Garit said. “Chantal would think about you, rather than about her own danger.”

  “Finally,” Jenia said, “one of the guards pulled out his eating knife and stabbed Chantal in her side.”

  When she paused to catch her breath and steady her voice, she heard Garit’s soft moan of grief.

  “They thought she was just a servant, you see, someone of no importance. Chantal fell to the floor and lay with her eyes closed, not moving, but the guard stabbed her a second time. I suppose he wanted to make sure she would die. I screamed and struggled with the two men who held me; I was desperate to go to her. When the guard who had stabbed her bent to wipe his knife clean on her skirt, the men holding me released their grip a little and I was able to break away from them. No one said anything for a moment.

  “I went to my knees and gathered Chantal into my arms. She opened her eyes. I will never forget what she said to me.”

  “Do you mean she was alive after those cruel blows?” Garit asked.

  “Barely alive,” Jenia responded. “Still, she spoke to me. She said, very clearly, ‘Chantal, do as we agreed. Remember me. Never forget that I loved you.’ I knew from her words that she wanted me to continue to pretend to be her. I promised I wouldn’t forget and I said I loved her, too. Then I kissed her cheek and she sighed and went perfectly still in my arms. I knew she was dead; I felt the life, the sweet spirit that was Chantal, go out of her.”

  “Oh, my love,” Garit whispered.

  “I was stunned by the horror and the suddenness of it all,” Jenia said after taking a moment to steady her voice. “I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The guards grabbed me again and dragged me away from Chantal’s body and out of the cell. They pulled a vile-smelling black hood over my head, then lifted me and carried me away. I think I must have fainted. When I came to myself again, I was aware that we were near the sea. I could hear water slapping against stone and heard the shuffling of boots on wood as they carried me up a gangplank.”

  The worst was told, Chantal’s fate revealed. Jenia sagged against Roarke, depending on his strength to keep her upright as she fought the urge to give way to the grief she had repressed for so many days.

  “A ship?” King Henryk repeated, watching his queen wipe away tears.

  “Perhaps I should tell this part of the story as Jenia told it to Garit and me,” Roarke offered.

  “No. I want to hear all of it from Jenia’s own lips,” King Henryk insisted.

  “I can do it,” Jenia said. Gathering her strength for the final effort, she stood a little taller. “Thank you, Roarke, for wanting to help me, but the story is mine to tell.”

  In a voic
e so calm that she surprised even herself, Jenia recounted the tale she had told once before, of the attempt by the sailors to rape her and how she had leapt from the ship into the stormy sea.

  “I fully expected to die,” she said. “Yet I, who cannot swim, was borne up by the waves. As I was tossed upon an unknown shore I heard again the words Chantal and I had used when we swore to each other that the one who survived would demand justice and retribution from the man who had done this to us. I believe I lived through that violent storm by Chantal’s assistance, and that Lord Garit and Sir Roarke were sent by her loving spirit to that particular beach to find me.

  “They did find me there, when I was at the end of my strength. They have protected me since,” she said. “When they asked me to pose as Chantal, I agreed, wanting to repay their kindness and, also, thinking it would be the quickest and easiest way for me to reach Calean and enter the castle, so I could accuse the man responsible for Chantal’s death.”

  “I am not that man,” King Henryk said. “I swear to you on my father’s grave, and on my mother’s, that I speak the truth. I did not order Lady Chantal imprisoned. I never ordered her murder.”

  “Sir,” Jenia said, her admission reluctant, but firmly spoken nonetheless, “your insistence and that of your queen and of these good men who came here with me, are forceful arguments in your favor. I begin to doubt what I learned to believe while Chantal and I were in that dreadful dungeon. But if you are not the guilty man, then who is?”

  “I’ll swear a second oath to you,” King Henryk said. “We will discover the man and see him punished.”

  Jenia nodded, too overcome to respond to the king’s promise. She wanted to weep with relief that she had been heard and believed, and with frustration that now she had no one to blame, only Garit’s assumption that Walderon must be the villain behind Chantal’s death.

  “Jenia, you need to rest,” Roarke said. “You are pale as a linen sheet.”

  “I cannot rest until I know who imprisoned Chantal and me,” she said. “Furthermore, I must find Chantal’s body. She deserves a proper burial. My quest will not be completed until I see her laid to rest.”

  “King Henryk assigned to me the mission of finding Chantal,” Roarke said. “I will locate her body.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Garit spoke up, sounding much like his usual self, though still somber with his new and terrible knowledge. “We must find the place where Chantal and Jenia were held and locate the cell where Chantal was killed.”

  “You are going to need me to identify it,” Jenia said. “I know every stone in that wretched cell. When I see it again I will not mistake it.”

  “You are right, of course,” Lord Giles agreed when Roarke would have protested. “But first, Jenia, you must rest. And you, King Henryk, need to set about convincing your nobles that Jenia’s accusations against you were a mistake. Lord Serlion, here, and your other advisors who have listened to the story can easily see to that.”

  Lord Giles and the Great Mage Serlion looked at each other for a moment. Jenia had the feeling the two men were old acquaintances, an impression confirmed by the quick smile of understanding they shared.

  “Meanwhile,” Lord Giles continued, “Roarke and Garit and I will set about asking questions of those same courtiers, in an effort to learn what Lord Walderon has been doing of late. Where is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him today.”

  “I believe Walderon may be at Thury,” Lord Oliver said, stepping forward.

  “My lady, if you will allow me,” Lady Marjorie said to the queen, “I will be glad to see to Jenia’s comfort. She’s welcome to stay in my chamber tonight.”

  “Absolutely not!” Roarke declared. “Stay out of this, Marjorie. And you, too, Lord Oliver. “

  “Ah, Roarke, in the name of heaven,” his father began.

  “I said, stay out of it!” Roarke shouted.

  “No, wait.” Jenia spoke up, interrupting the dispute. “Please, don’t quarrel over me. Lady Marjorie, I thank you for your kind offer, and I accept it. May we go now? I confess, I am ready to drop from weariness.

  “My lord king,” she said to Henryk, finally addressing him properly, “may I be excused from your presence?”

  “Go,” Henryk responded. “I will send for you when I want to see you again.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Jenia offered the curtsey she should have made when first meeting the king. As he extended his hand to raise her, she noted the appreciative gleam in his eyes. She wasn’t sure whether he was pleased to watch her bend her knee to him, or whether he was amused to see her depart with Lady Marjorie.

  Chapter 10

  Roarke swore softly, glaring at Marjorie’s back as she led Jenia out of the audience chamber. Both women had lied to him, though when he considered the falsehoods each had told he found Jenia’s deceit easier to forgive. Marjorie had betrayed his affection for her, while Jenia had been fulfilling a promise made before she met him. She had always insisted that she was on a quest, dealing with a matter of honor. After hearing her revelation that she and Chantal were cousins, Roarke could understand her motives.

  “Our mothers were sisters...we were like twins,” he recalled her saying in the garden at Auremont. She’d been careful not to name her girlhood companion. He should have known then, should have guessed that a close family connection between Jenia and the missing Chantal was the explanation for their remarkable similarity of face and form. He should have probed more deeply to find the truth she was concealing.

  She was as courageous as any man who undertook a dangerous mission. Roarke’s initial anger over the deception Jenia had practiced on him and on Garit faded rapidly, to be replaced by a fierce, unexpected urge to protect her.

  She was going to need protection. The person who had seized her and Chantal and ordered them confined in a dungeon for months was sure to want Jenia dead. It wouldn’t matter that she had finally told the truth before a dozen witnesses.

  Whatever the real reason behind the imprisonment of two heiresses and the attempt to make them believe King Henryk was responsible for their abduction, the man at the heart of so wicked a plot would almost certainly feel compelled to end Jenia’s life before she could say or do anything that might, however inadvertently, reveal who he was.

  For it was possible Jenia knew something she didn’t realize she knew, that she had seen or overheard some vital detail. The villain could well be thinking along the same lines as Roarke, and he would be unwilling to take a chance on Jenia’s silence.

  Garit had suggested Lord Walderon as the villain many times while he and Roarke searched for Chantal. Walderon had evaded their efforts to prove anything against him. Roarke decided they ought to investigate Chantal’s uncle again, and they ought to do so promptly. He asked himself who else could have told Chantal’s guards about her repeated refusals to wed the despicable Malin?

  When Lord Giles stepped forward, Roarke forced his full attention back to what was happening in the audience chamber.

  “King Henryk, this situation cannot continue.” Lord Giles spoke in slow, measured tones. “Your nobles must be able to trust and believe that the man to whom they have sworn fealty can be relied upon to protect their widows and children, as well as any inheritances left to those children. The only exception to the rule occurs in the case of treason, and so far we have heard nothing to indicate that treason is involved here. The issue appears to be greed; in particular, the huge estates devolving upon Lady Chantal at her father’s death and, through her, to the man her uncle arranged for her to marry. My lord, you dare not allow your nobles to think you were involved in any way with what happened to Lady Chantal.”

  “Thanks to Lady Jenia’s rash accusations, that is exactly what they do think,” King Henryk responded. “As always, Lord Giles, I can depend upon you to set forth the most complex situation in its simplest terms. I am sure you have a solution to offer.”

  “The only solution,” Lord Giles said, “is to find and publicly punish
the man responsible for the imprisonment of those girls and for the death of Lady Chantal. Seeing justice done will reassure your nobles – and the sooner justice is carried out, the better.”

  “We have a more urgent problem,” Roarke interrupted. “Perhaps, a deadly problem.

  “My lord,” he continued when Henryk looked at him in surprise, “may I suggest that you order a guard to be posted immediately at Lady Marjorie’s door, to remain there while Jenia is with her? The man guilty of those crimes will have no compunction about ordering a second murder. He will want Jenia dead as quickly as possible, before she has a chance to say anything more that might cast blame on him.”

  “You are quite right, Roarke. I will see to the guard,” Lord Oliver offered, adding, “It is my wife’s chamber, after all.”

  “Thank you,” King Henryk said to him. “Your help is appreciated.”

  Roarke gritted his teeth to hold back the objections he wanted to make. He didn’t want his faithless father given the duty of keeping Jenia safe, yet he could not state his objections now that the king had accepted Oliver’s offer. Henryk would assume Roarke was being difficult because of the breach between father and son. So he kept quiet while promising himself he’d personally see to Jenia’s safety before the day ended.

  “My dearest lady,” King Henryk said, lifting Queen Hannorah’s hand to his lips, “I thank you for your wisdom, and for your unwavering support of me during this trying afternoon.”

  “I know you far better than Lady Jenia does,” the queen replied with a sweet smile, “so I never doubted that you are innocent of the charges she made. And now, my lord, I think you would prefer me to retire while you make plans to apprehend the villain who is truly responsible for Lady Chantal’s death.”

  Henryk escorted his queen to the door, pausing to kiss her hand again. Then he commanded the advisors who had witnessed the events of the last hour to go out among the courtiers in the great hall and the corridors of the castle, there to speak freely of what they had seen and heard.