Seeking The Truth - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 11)

by Shea,Lisa

  Sean stared at him in complete shock. “Cassandra was with Eli?” He shook his head. “I never had the slightest idea!”

  Roger nodded. “It was an absolute secret. Nobody knew but me. I do not even think his family knew. Eli was worried about you finding out, about you trying to steal her away from him.”

  Sean shook his head again, drawing himself to his feet, his face reflecting utter confusion. He stared at Roger for a long moment before asking, “Were they married?”

  Roger considered that. “Eli never said, but he never spoke of plans to get married. He rarely talked about any of it at all. I only knew some of this because he had been driven into debt by Cassandra and had become desperate.”

  Morgan pursed her lips. “So all three men were courting her, thirteen years ago, and she became pregnant,” she mused. “She married a local innkeeper, and it seems that man died four years ago. Since then she has been with two of the three soldiers, and each man has died.” Her eyes moved to hold Sean’s. “Now she is with you.”

  Sean looked from man to man, running a hand through his thick hair. “I saw the marriage contract,” he reiterated, clinging to the one thing he knew to be true. “I know I slept with her, and she now has a child of the proper age. Even if Roger is sure about her being with Eli, it is only conjecture that this is the same Cassandra who was with Giles.

  Morgan looked up at Sean. “I spent time with Daniel earlier, by the herbs. He said that he had been told he had the makings of becoming one of the best herbalists in the land. He had been told that by someone close to him, someone he missed.” She paused a moment. “Someone named Matthew.”

  Peter’s eyes sharpened. “God’s Teeth,” he bit out. “So he had already been in training with the man, and his mother dragged him away once Giles died. No wonder the lad is in such turmoil.”

  Oliver shook his head. “There does seem to be too much here to easily explain away,” he agreed. “If Cassandra has been responsible for two men’s deaths, both of those men deserve justice.” His eyes moved to Sean’s, and he smiled slightly. “I suppose we might also want to save Sean here from the same fate.”

  Morgan felt a shadow of danger shimmer at the edges of her awareness. “We need to take this slow,” she warned. “If Cassandra has gone this long without being detected, then she is good at what she does, and slippery. If she gets the slightest hint that things are not going her way, she is likely to vanish from the keep, never to be seen again. We would have lost the chance for justice forever.”

  Sean nodded. “Agreed. We will take this cautiously, day by day, and see if we can track down the information we need to prove her part in this all.”

  Morgan moved to stand, and the world spun around her in a twisting rainbow. A pair of arms caught her from either side, and she allowed herself to be lowered back to the bench.

  Oliver looked down at her. “All right, this time it is not a request, it is an order. You are heading back to bed.” He nodded at Christian, who came over to take Sean’s place on her left. “We will get her to rest,” he added quietly. “You three go begin to reconnoiter whatever can be found out about Cassandra’s past.”

  Morgan’s head slumped, and the next thing she knew she was being laid gently on her bed, the warm covers being brought up over her. She nestled down against the pillow, allowing herself to fall into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Morgan woke feeling as if she had been trampled by an angry bull. Her entire body ached. Her head felt as if it had been kicked in, her stomach throbbed with pain. There were wounds and bruises all across her body.

  A flash of light lit the room, followed by a rolling, bed-shaking thunderclap. In an instant a torrent of rain began falling outside her window, the noise blocking out all other thought.

  She rolled to her side, turning from the deluge. She was alone in her room, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew her friends were trying to help, to ensure she was all right, but she needed some time alone, to think.

  The aches throbbed with more force, and she pushed herself to a sitting position. What she needed was to wash away the dirt and grime, and to take stock of her injuries. She forced herself out of bed, made her way to the door. It was only a few minutes before a servant went past on an errand, and she called him over. The man nodded at her request, and she tumbled back into bed. She laid there, her eyes closed, as the men brought in the large wooden half-barrel, as they ferried in warm water for her. In short order she was left alone again, the bath waiting.

  She stripped down slowly, wincing at each injury’s stabbing pain as she twisted to remove her chemise. She wondered if there was a part of her left undamaged after the evening. She eased herself into the waters, feeling their magic work on her tense muscles, on her various injuries. The water swirled carmine and bronze as the dirt, sweat, and blood soaked off her bruised skin.

  She removed the bandages one by one, carefully pulling the fabric away from the skin, careful not to rip more than necessary. She took up a handful of the wood ash soap held in a small oak box and began carefully, diligently, rubbing it over each section of her body. She had dealt with wounds since she was old enough to walk and knew of their care and treatment. Much of her body was purple with bruising, and there were a few cuts which were mending nicely. She took care not to pull them open, simply clearing out any sawdust or dirt which lingered nearby.

  Finally she was done. She stood wearily, drying herself off, noting which injuries were still bleeding. She addressed those first, spreading on a healing ointment from Daniel’s stash before wrapping them with fresh linens. Then she pulled on a clean chemise. She moved over to the closet, choosing out the demure, brown dress for today’s service. She sat at the edge of the bed, brushing out her long hair thoughtfully, layering on the white head cloth and bronze circlet.

  She reached forward to take the hand mirror from her dresser, then gazed at her reflection for a long while. With the long sleeves and skirt of the dress, she seemed the same as she had always been. Only the large bruise at her temple and the thick bandages on her hand belied her injuries.

  Despite the sameness of her outer appearance, so much had changed in the past few days. She wished she could talk with Sean, talk with the others. She realized it was risky right now. The Sheriff was sniffing around after them, and Lady Donna was actively upset with her behavior. Better to let things rest quietly, to give the situation time to settle down.

  She took in a deep breath, pushing herself to her feet. Her head swam for a second, and she held herself against the dresser, feeling the familiar sensation of seasickness, letting it wash through her until her vision focused. Then she moved slowly, carefully, toward the door.

  There was no one waiting in the hallway, no one waiting to escort her down the stairs. She took them one at a time, very aware of her weakness, giving herself time to make the journey safely. She smiled as she saw two men waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, coming to attention as they saw her. Christian and Oliver were dressed in their Sunday best, and were focused on her, coming forward as she reached the landing. Each moved to fall in at her side, to provide an escort for her.

  Morgan scanned the rest of the room. Lady Donna was sitting at the head table, her gaze downcast. Sean, Roger, and Peter were on the couches by the fireplace, Cassandra tucked in with them, her hands wrapped around Sean’s arm. All three men looked over as she entered the room, their eyes shadowed in the deep morning gloom. Cassandra kept her eyes on her husband’s, making a low comment to him with a smile.

  Morgan turned her head quickly, willing herself not to look at the couple. Enough time to contemplate that later on. Right now she was healing from the night with Edward, dealing with the repercussions from that situation. She began walking out toward the chapel, her two fellows moving along at her side. She saw the others stand, fall in, move with her toward the quiet stone building.

  She took a seat in the second pew, still flanked by her friends. In a moment, the pri
est took his position at the front of the small chapel. The sermon droned on around her, and Morgan felt secure with her two friends at her side. She was safe now, whatever happened. Edward was dead. Eli had been avenged. The sheriff had been reassured that Edward’s death was for a worthy cause, and no blame would fall on Eli’s family. They had achieved their goal. It had all been worth it.

  Her head throbbed and she wearily pressed her hand to her forehead. Oliver instantly put his hand at her shoulder, carefully easing her muscles, bringing a small modicum of release to her pain. She took in a deep breath, willing herself to calm. She knew that she would heal more quickly if she relaxed, took it easy, let her body take its time.

  The sermon came to an end, and Oliver and Christian stood on either side of her. She pressed herself to her feet, felt the waves of nausea come over her, hunched over immediately. The men’s hands were at her side, holding her, waiting with anxious attention, giving her the time she needed to recover her balance. She nodded at them in appreciation, then slowly made her way out of the chapel.

  The main table was already full by the time she hobbled her way into the hall, and she took her place opposite Lady Donna and Sean with quiet relief. The morning had already worn her out more than she cared to admit. She stared listlessly at the table, barely noticing as talk moved around her, as food was passed out and people began to eat.

  Lady Donna’s voice came to her quietly through the fog. “Morgan … are you all right?” she asked in a low voice, her voice reflecting concern. Morgan brought her eyes up, saw the worry in her eyes. She half smiled, then winced as a shooting pain ricocheted through her skull.

  “I am fine,” replied Morgan, her eyes automatically scanning the table. Oliver reached forward for her mug of ale, placed it gently into her left hand. She nodded her thanks to him, taking a long drink of the soothing liquid. It numbed the throbbing somewhat, gave her a chance against the pain which threatened to overwhelm her.

  Cassandra’s voice carried cheerful enthusiasm. “Edward must have been quite the soldier,” she bubbled. “He seems to have thrashed you to within an inch of your life! Maybe you should stay in bed another week with the wounds you have received at his hand.”

  Morgan bit her lip, biding her time. She was already on tenuous enough ground in this keep; she had to keep control of her temper. “Your son, Daniel, is wonderful with herbs,” she praised, deftly changing the subject. “It is thanks to his care and his ointments that I was able to attend church today.” Her eyes went up to meet Daniel’s, nodding her thanks.

  “Oh, that,” replied Cassandra dismissively. “That is a fine sideline to his soldiering career. I am sure any troop he joins will be glad to have a medically minded member of their crew. Still, the fighting comes first!”

  Sean looked with concern at the young man by his side. “If that is what he wants,” he commented.

  “Of course that is what he wants!” insisted Cassandra with pride, taking a bite of her egg. “It was what I have wanted for him since he was born. To be strong and fearless like his father. To fight with honor.”

  “There are many ways to live with honor,” responded Sean, his eyes holding Morgan’s. “Being a soldier is not the only path.”

  Cassandra chuckled in merry pleasure. “Of course you would say that,” she rebutted. “However, we know the truth. Every woman dreams of her man dying ‘nobly’, defending his honor as a soldier should.”

  Morgan’s voice was sharp. “I do not dream of that,” she countered, her mind whirling. That phrase sounded so familiar, so fresh in her memory. She could not put a finger to it.

  “Oh?” laughed Cassandra, her voice light. “What is it you dream of then? A man deep in his cups, looking over your chest with lustful eyes?”

  Morgan flushed crimson, felt Oliver begin to rise at her side, put out her hand on his arm to keep him down. It would do not good to react to Cassandra’s bait, to give her the satisfaction of an emotional response.

  “My ideal man does what is right even when it is most difficult,” she stated in a low voice. “He puts aside his personal gain, his desire for more money. He does what is honorable. He will not lie, will not malign others. He tells the truth even if it is challenging – perhaps especially when it is most challenging.”

  Lady Donna leant forward. “Which reminds me,” she interjected, her voice serious. “Sean, I would like to talk with you after we are done here. Perhaps Roger and Peter could join us as well.”

  The men nodded to her, their faces somber.

  Morgan suddenly felt worn down by the banter, by the deceptions around her. She stood slowly, Oliver coming to his feet beside her.

  “Let me on my own for a while, please,” murmured Morgan, her voice low. Oliver hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his eyes rich with worry. She pushed herself away from the table, moving slowly to head out through the side door, walking cautiously through the light drizzle to find her seat on the stone bench in the gazebo’s shelter.

  She looked around the gardens which had become as familiar to her as the fresh scent of sage which wafted in the breeze. This was her home, had been for eight years now, a comfortable place where she had planned to age and relax. She had always expected to stay here when Lady Donna passed away, had not given much thought to who the new owners might be.

  Her heart sank. Now it appeared her plans were in chaos. If she was wrong about Cassandra’s past, and Sean and Cassandra did move into the keep, she would be sent packing. Even if her parents let her move back into her childhood room, she knew in her heart that she did not belong there. She would have to set out fresh, find a new location to fit in.

  She sighed deeply. Would she honestly find somewhere else she was so well suited for? She knew that most would find her desire to wield a sword to be unnatural, unwomanly. Her townsfolk had grown used to the idea over time, had grown up with her at the forge, had become accustomed to the idea as she matured. Her victory over Coll had solidified her place in town, her reputation as a hero for the other women.

  One night’s actions had undone all of that, had ruined her.

  Tears slipped from her eyes, and she let them flow. She knew she had done it for the best of causes, had achieved the noblest of aims with her actions. Still, so much had been lost at the same time. Her punctured hand would heal; the purple-black bruises across her stomach would fade in time. The damage done to her name would not as easily be rubbed away. She had been seen as flirtatious by her fellows, perhaps as a heavy drinker. Even so, she had always been seen as honorable, as one who could be trusted, depended on. Now she was seen as a wild gambler, a woman who dove into dangerous situations without any thought.

  She had lost Sean to Cassandra …

  The tears came in earnest, and suddenly Christian was besides her, and she folded against him. His arms came up tenderly around her, holding her close. They sat together for a long while, as the drizzle faded away into a faint mist, as a gentle fog drew up around them and blew across the gardens. Christian sat at her side, not saying a word, tenderly stroking back her hair.

  Finally she sat up, brushing the tears from her eyes. She was drained beyond words.

  His voice was tight. “Morgan,” he murmured, “Sean wanted you to know something.” He looked down for a moment. “He has not touched Cassandra since she returned. He has told her they should take things slow.”

  Morgan looked up at him in surprise, a sweep of relief flowing over her. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded quietly, holding her close. “He thought it might be some reassurance to you, with everything else that is going on.”

  “How does Cassandra feel about that?” asked Morgan, relaxing against Christian, her heart soaring.

  Christian chuckled quietly. “She is frustrated – apparently she normally uses her body to lure men into submission, to get them to do whatever she wishes. She says she understands, with the marriage being so long ago, that he is hesitant. Still, Sean gets the sense that she is up to something.�
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  “Of course she is,” growled out Morgan, “but we will find her out, and expose her for the viperous snake she is.” She smiled up at Christian, leaning against him. “I could not wish for a better ally by my side during this.”

  Letitia rounded the corner, her eyes widening as she found Christian and Morgan side by side, their arms around each other. “I am sorry,” she whispered in a low voice, turning to flee back into the keep.

  Christian looked up at Morgan in apology, and she shook her head. “Go after her,” she instructed softly. “If she needs me to vouch for you, I most certainly will.” Christian nodded, then turned and loped in toward the keep. In a moment the garden was silent.

  Morgan felt adrift, alone in the quiet of the misty gardens. Up until now she had treasured her independence, valued her lack of reliance on any other person. She had flirted with Christian, with Oliver and with others, always on her own terms.

  Now, suddenly, she was concerned about her path in life, realizing the value of her reputation. If she lost that …

  She put it out of her mind. She would deal with what came, and forge a new path if necessary. Once things settled down, and she had time to work out a plan, everything would come together, somehow.

  *

  The cloud-swaddled sun was beginning to drift down toward the horizon before she roused herself to head back in to the keep. It would be dinner time soon, and then she could head off to bed without any comments being made. She had to take this one day at a time, to deal with what was before her.

  To her surprise, the main room was fairly quiet as she entered. Only Cassandra was near the head table, stalking about, her face bright with frustration. The blonde looked up in annoyance as Morgan entered the room, then her eyes swept again toward the closed door. Morgan followed her gaze, realizing that she was staring at Lady Donna’s study. Had her employer really been holed up in there all afternoon long? It must have been six hours now.

  The door was flung open, and Lady Donna strode out, her wrinkled face tight with displeasure. After her filed out the men – Sean, Roger, Peter, and then Oliver as well. Each glanced around the room as they emerged into it, catching her gaze, holding it for a long moment. Morgan could not be sure of their emotions. Was it resignation? Guilt? Frustration? She wondered what they had been discussing, what had been said.