by Sarah Hegger
The muted growl of male voices reached them and she froze. She still had William’s knife.
Aldous replied, the words inaudible, but the timbre of his voice recognizable.
Simon pressed to her side and she dropped her hand to soothe his back. Beneath her touch, his heart thudded. He was scared, as was she.
More voices, one raised in anger.
Faye’s heart thumped an unsteady rhythm. Aldous might give them away for the reward. Nay, she did not believe he would do that. Aldous was a strange, rude old man but he had no use for coin. Gregory trusted him. Gregory was out there. Pray Gregory would see the horses and know better than to stumble into a trap. Of course he would, her fears got the better of her.
A crash resounded down the passage and the splinter of breaking wood. Simon jumped beneath her hand and she resumed her soothing motion.
Please God, let them not have hurt Aldous. They could have no argument with a harmless looking old hermit. The minutes dragged past as Faye strained to hear. Silence fell. Beneath her skirts, her legs shook. The dead black all around offered no clue as to what happened.
Simon shifted. She winced at the loud scuff of his feet.
Faye counted her heartbeats to mark the passage of time. She gave up and concentrated on keeping Simon still. A scrape. Faye tensed.
“Woman?” Aldous’s voice. “Woman, I can hear you and it is safe to come out now.”
Keeping her right hand to the wall, Faye edged through the gloom. Simon clung to her side, the poor lad. So much fear and running in the past few days could not be good for a young boy. Faye had sought to protect him, but this was not safety.
“Are they gone?” Simon whispered.
“Aye.” Aldous appeared as a dim shape before them. “But we will speak when Gregory returns. You cannot stay here. Their leader knew too much. He asked if I had seen Gregory, so he knows of our friendship.”
“Faye,” Gregory called, his voice rough and urgent.
“She is well, sword wielder.” Aldous shambled down the passage ahead of them, his bare feet near silent on the floor.
“I saw Calder’s man, Royce.” Gregory’s voice came closer. “He and his men were here. I waited in the trees until they left.”
“Gregory,” Simon called. “We were hiding in the dark and there were spiders. I am sure of it.” God, to be so young and resilient. Faye envied her son his indefatigable spirit. For her part, weariness settled into her bones.
“Did you scream when you saw the spiders?” Gregory asked from up ahead.
“Nay.” Simon snorted. “And one ran over my foot, or it was a rat.”
Faye shivered, relieved nothing had run across her feet. She stepped into the soft light of the burrow and Gregory stood there, large and impregnable. His hand rested on Simon’s shoulder. Whatever the way to safety, he would find it for them. His stare met hers over Simon’s head and she nodded in response to his silent question. All was well, for now.
“We cannot stay here and we will need horses,” he said. “We are too slow on foot. This way, we can meet Newt along the route he followed to Anglesea.” If Newt reached Anglesea.
Faye nodded. They had enough to contend with already. “Where will we get horses?”
A boyish grin split Gregory’s face. “I will steal my Lady Faye a horse.”
“You should not steal.” Simon scowled up at him.
“Nay, you should not.” Gregory grinned back. “I would only do so for my lady.” It was the most romantic utterance he had ever made. Didn’t that make her the most pathetic sort of fool.
Faye climbed with Gregory to the entrance of the dungeons. He surveyed the area before he let her come into the open. Blue sky soared above them, a glorious clear day. Aldous’s little burrow could have been an entirely different world.
“You are not going to steal a horse?” She kept her tone light, while a weight pressed at her chest. She did not want him to go. Without him, danger seemed to crowd about her and overwhelmed. Countless times, she had watched him leave Calder Castle on some armed foray for Calder. Then she could not put her arms about him and hold him to her as she wished him well. She could now, and she pressed her cheek against his collar, her head beneath his chin.
He held her.
Faye breathed him in, as she shut her eyes and pretended for the smallest moment.
“I am going to borrow a horse,” he said against her hair. “I promise by my honor to return it when I have you safe at Anglesea.”
“Simon is right, you should not steal.” She wanted to keep him here for a few more precious moments.
“I would do anything for you, my lady.” Except stay with me forever. Faye pressed her face into his neck. Her selfishness sickened her.
“Be safe.” Her chest ached, not wanting to let him go.
“Always.” He put her away from him. “I may be some time. I have to wait until nightfall before I can do my borrowing. I will be back for you.”
“I know.”
As if he sensed something amiss with her, a small frown creased his brow. She managed a smile.
He lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.
Faye opened for him. The kiss ran sweet through her. The first one he had ever given her that she did not seek first. Desire lay banked beneath it. How sad that this was a kiss of parting.
He stepped away and cleared his throat. “I will return.”
Chapter 18
Long after Gregory disappeared beneath the trees, Faye lingered above ground. He took her heart and her hopes with him and she sent a quick prayer after him. When she could delay no longer, she descended the stone stairs into the dungeons. Already her feet stepped surer on the treads. Aldous was certain to have some more of his strangeness to fill the passing hours.
Simon sat at the table, busy with his carving. The wood resembled a misshapen animal of some sort. Tongue trapped between his teeth, Simon worked away. Little Arthur shared the same habit. Arthur remained safe at Anglesea, with Lady Mary and Nurse caring for him and Beatrice distracting him with her dear silliness. This time tomorrow, God be willing, she and Simon would be home. Gregory would find them horses and they would travel swiftly to Anglesea. She leant against the wall close to the hearth. More waiting. How much of her life did she spend waiting?
Aldous stirred his stew over the fire. The rich aroma tantalized her nostrils and made her mouth water. He may eat no meat, but Aldous worked miracles with herbs and tubers.
A footstep grated against the stairs.
Aldous cocked his head and tensed. He swung about, his face set in a rigid mask.
“Hide.” Aldous pointed to the dark passages.
“Do not move, my lady.”
Faye sprung around as a man filled the entrance. Royce. Always in the thick of it with his lord and ready to dirty his rough hands with whatever Calder asked. For a moment, she remained frozen, shocked by his sudden appearance.
Simon. He sat at the table, vulnerable. Faye dashed for her son.
Royce got there before her and plucked Simon from the bench by the back of his tunic.
Faye slid to a halt.
Simon cried out and struck with his carving knife. Royce grabbed his wrist and shook it, until Simon dropped the knife
“Do not hurt him.” Faye froze at the sword near Simon’s neck.
“That is up to you, Lady Faye.” Royce’s teeth flashed white through his shaggy, russet beard. He was of middling height, but built broad and powerful built like a small bull.
Four other men crowded in behind Royce and blocked the stairs.
“Do not look for your precious Gregory.” Royce sneered at her. “He is long gone. We waited until he left. This will be a lot easier without him.”
Royce swung his gaze behind her. “Do not move, old man. I knew you were lying. Where else would the blasted monk go but here?”
Aldous stood at her back.
Royce gave a short bark o
f laughter as his gaze raked her from top to bottom. “My lord will be powerful glad to see you. Take the boy.” Royce shoved Simon toward one of his men. “She will give us no more trouble if we have him.”
“Please.” It was hopeless to plead, but she could not help herself. “Just give me my son and leave. I cannot return to Calder.”
“Aye, you can.” Royce grinned at her. “And I aim to see you do. Take her.” He motioned a second man. The man laid hold of her arm in a firm clasp.
“All will be well, woman.” Aldous stood silent and still, his face beautiful in its serenity.
Royce stalked toward Aldous, his sword raised. “You lied to me.”
“Nay. I made him lie.” Faye wrenched at her captor’s hold. The steel of Royce’s sword glowed orange in the candlelight “He had no choice but to shelter us.”
“The earl does not tolerate betrayal.” Royce pressed the sword tip into Aldous’s neck. Blood swelled around the blade and dribbled down from the wound.
“Nay.” Faye lurched toward Aldous. The grip on her arm tightened and snatched her back. Pain shot through her from the cruel grip and she kicked out against her captor.
Her captor grunted and pinned both her arms behind her.
The wrench of her muscles throbbed from her shoulder to her wrist. It didn’t matter, and she grit her teeth as she struggled for freedom.
“I know.” Inevitability writ on his smooth features, Aldous glanced toward her and smiled. “I am ready.”
“Nay.” Faye sobbed. Why did he not pick up a log and fight?
A flash of steel and Royce pierced Aldous through the gut. “Miserable cur.”
Aldous crumpled to the floor. Over his homespun tunic, blood bloomed with sickening speed. It pooled scarlet around him and stained his beautifully woven rugs.
The burrow grew hazy. Sounds muted. Aldous stabbed, Simon captured, the rough hands on her arm. Voices spoke, a gruff exchange of meaningless words.
Aldous kept his blue, blue gaze locked on her. “Courage,” he seemed to say, “have courage, woman.”
They dragged her up the stairs. Faye went with them, limp and broken in the man’s hold. Dear God, Aldous gravely wounded, it could not be possible.
Simon sat before the man who had taken him, his face pinched in terror.
Faye locked her gaze to Simon. “All will be well.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“Your mother speaks true.” Royce came up behind her. “Once you are back where you belong, all will be well.”
Back where she belonged? Back to Calder. Nothing would be well again, ever. Calm. Think. Fear, dark and bitter, spread through her mind. She fought it back. Five men, strong and battled hardened. She would bide her time until she found a way out of this nightmare. William’s knife pressed against her ankle. Somehow, there was a way out.
Faye did as she was bid. Her mind drummed in time to the horses’ hooves. Back to Calder. Back to Calder. Back to Calder.
The journey blurred. The landscape flashed past with barely a halt. Fields, dwellings, forests. The sun moved toward the west and dark clouds spread across the sky. Places she had passed with Gregory. Through Upper Mere. The clatter of the drawbridge beneath hooves. The walls of Calder Castle closed around her as Royce forced her to dismount in the inner bailey. The soaring red stone battlement stood stark against the deep pewter of the sky. Much needed rain hung heavy in the clouds. It seemed curiously apt the storm brewing above matched her storm within.
“You are to wait for his lordship.” Royce grabbed hold of her arm and tugged.
Faye dug her heels in. “Release me. I am able to walk without assistance.”
Royce dropped her arm. She almost laughed at the way he still obeyed her commands, as if she were not his captive. It was nothing more than false bravado on her part, he had her trapped.
Simon stayed close by her side as they strode into the keep.
Faye refused to cow her head as she marched before Royce. Glances swung her direction, some of them surprised, others frightened. For the most part she read compassion on their faces. They had been her people. Some knew, most had guessed, how unhappy her time as chatelaine had been. The daughter of Sir Arthur and Lady Mary of Anglesea would not be dragged home like a whipped dog.
The rushes in the hall needed changing. Beside the hearth, a pack of dogs snarled and snapped over some discarded treasure buried beneath them. The stench turned her stomach. Calder had allowed the keep to degenerate into a filthy hovel. “Why have the rushes not been changed?”
“My lady.” Betsy, the upper serving maid bowed her head.
Faye stopped. Royce growled beneath his breath as he near trod on her heels. Faye forced her rigid face into a smile. A lady never shows her pain or her fear. “How are you, Betsy? And your mother, has she recovered from her fall?”
“Aye, my lady.” Betsy bobbed her head. “That liniment you sent worked wonders.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Faye raised her chin and commenced her march. This must be how a condemned man felt being taken to his death. She refused to die like this. She had survived worse.
“I will see to the rushes, my lady.” A kitchen drudge bowed his head and scurried out of the hall.
Simon straightened his shoulders beside her. Proud blood ran in her son’s veins. The blood of warriors and survivors, and blood would tell now. Simon still had the misshapen wooden carving of a badger clutched to his chest. Dear Lord, Aldous might be dead. Killed for aiding her. Surely, God would not forgive such a terrible injustice.
Gregory would find him and guess what had occurred. Faye grabbed the tiny glimmer of hope. Please God, speed his return to Aldous’s burrow and comfort him through his loss of a dear friend.
“My lady.” One of the castle pages bowed low before her.
“It is good to see you, Peter.” Faye stopped once more. “How fares your training?”
“Good, my lady.” The boy flushed and his gaze slid away from her. “It is good to see you, my lady.”
Royce prodded her. “Move.”
“Take your hands off me.” Faye stared the misbegotten dog down. His gaze dropped. Remember with whom you deal, villein.
Outside the keep, thunder rumbled.
“It seems we are in for a storm.” Faye commented to the keep at large as they climbed the stairs. “We need the rain.”
“Aye, my lady. Welcome home, my lady.”
Faye smiled in the direction of the speaker. Home. The word reverberated in her head like a clarion bell.
Royce marched them to the lord’s solar and motioned them inside. “You are to wait here.”
“We require refreshment.” She met Royce’s bold gaze without flinching. If he hoped to see her cowering and whimpering for mercy, he would be disappointed.
“The earl never gave instructions for anything like that.” He stuck his chin out like a sulky boy.
“Indeed.” Faye met his reaction with the disdain it deserved. “Is the intent to see us perish from thirst and hunger?”
Above his russet beard, Royce flushed. He glared at her, trying to menace her down.
Miserable churl. Faye held her ground until the man spun and stomped from the room.
The room had changed. Finely embroidered silks she had placed there hung, dull with dirt, about the large bed. Pillows she had sewn to match had been cast on the floor in a pile. Bed linens tangled in a rumpled, stained mound. A fire screen she had embroidered in deep shades of blue and yellow stood before the hearth. The ashes looked not to have been changed since she left. Dust covered the clothes chest at the foot of the bed. Grime lined the ewer and basin standing on a table by the casement. She would never have allowed that had she been here.
Faye waited for the door to shut. The bar dropped into place on the other side and her shoulders slumped.
Simon stood in the middle of the solar, pale and frightened.
She gathered him in her arms. In t
his place, she had first learned fear and come to understand her helplessness. Memories clustered around the edges of the room and jeered at her She didn’t have to listen to them. In the past few days, she had lived a lifetime. She was not the frightened, broken bride who had run for her life a year ago. She snatched up two pillows and beat them together to rid them of dust. “Let us make ourselves more comfortable.”
Hooves clattered into the bailey below, and Faye ran to the casement.
Calder dismounted and tossed his reins to a stable hand.
* * * *
Gregory found his horses and an army to go with them. His luck finally turned when he met with the men of Anglesea on his way. He almost wept with relief.
Newt had intercepted them as they traveled to Calder.
“Told you I would do it.” Newt hawked and spat.
Gregory abandoned any idea of hugging the filthy child in gratitude.
Newt waited only long enough to be sure Garrett understood exactly how in his debt they were. Then, he turned and disappeared. Gone wherever with a large purse of coins in his pocket.
Sir Arthur carried a writ from King Henry to assume guardianship of Simon. He and Lady Mary’s brothers marched to Calder to deliver it. The larger party had split and now William, Roger and a strong escort rode hard for Aldous’s hideout.
The party drew rein atop the rise. Too quiet and no smoke from below. Gregory’s nape prickled as he dismounted. Aldous had not come to meet them.
William and Roger kept pace with him as he descended into the old dungeon.
“Sweet Christ,” William said.
Aldous’s home had been destroyed. The table lay in splinters, linens and pillows ripped, the straw stuffing of the pallet scattered over the floor. The upturned kettle dripped its contents into the dead hearth.
Amongst the carnage lay Aldous in a large, glistening pool of red. Blood crept along the floor out of Aldous. It edged over the pallet straw and mixed with the overturned stew. Gregory’s belly clenched and heaved.