SirenSong

by Roberta Gellis

  “But if Aubery will not—”

  “That is why I must die,” Elizabeth said. “He did not say it to me, but I think Mauger plans to marry you himself.”

  Alys did not answer that directly. She was now nearly as frightened as Elizabeth. It was true that her father would come to Hurley as soon as Mauger sent word that Elizabeth was so sick Alys had stayed to nurse her. He would come alone, or with only one man, possibly Raymond, and he would be completely at Mauger’s mercy.

  Even if by some chance Papa should be suspicious, what could he do? Alys’s fingers trembled, making slow work of the ties and buttons on Elizabeth’s dress. While Mauger held her and Elizabeth,_Papa would not blink an eye for fear Mauger would do them some harm. In the end it would come to the same thing. He, and Raymond, too, would come naked and willingly stretch their necks for the ax so long as she and Elizabeth were freed unhurt.

  Seeing how the color had faded from Alys’s cheeks and the heavy work she was making of the simple task of tying garters, Elizabeth realized the girl had come to a real understanding of their situation. Since Alys was no physical coward, as Elizabeth knew quite well from having bound as many cuts and bruises on the daring girl as on her adventurous sons, she knew the fear was for her father and lover.

  “We are not helpless,” Elizabeth said firmly. “The servants do not know that I was a prisoner. They will not interfere with us, and I do not believe Mauger would have told his men-at-arms anything either. The only one we need fear is his personal servant, Egbert. I do not know whether the men-at-arms would obey him, but he usually attends Mauger. Likely he is gone with his master. Help me to my feet.”

  Emma had slipped on Elizabeth’s shoes and enough feeling had returned to her arms so that she could raise them and place one around Emma’s shoulders, the other around Alys’s. Thus supported she stood. Automatically Alys straightened the skirts that had been bunched around her. Falteringly Elizabeth moved one leg forward. Emma steadied her and she got the foot properly placed. She moved the other foot forward.

  “Your maids will never let us leave carrying you this way,” Alys sobbed. “They will cling around us. God knows what they will think.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth and took another step. “I will think of something to tell them,” she said through set teeth. “I will think of something.”

  Upon the words, the latch of the door lifted and rattled violently. The three women froze, breaths held. Before they could even hope it was Maud or some other innocent person, a thunderous knock shook the door.

  “Let me in, Emma. It is I, Mauger.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mauger would probably not have noticed Alys’s boat making for the dock at Hurley even if he had not already ridden ashore. His attention after he led his destrier onto the ferry was taken up by the activity on one of the docks at Marlowe. He could see a fairly large riverboat tied up and unloading. Eventually he made out two figures standing side by side watching the work, one of whom wore a sword. Something in the attitude of the other man, who shouted orders from time to time, made Mauger feel pretty sure the one wearing the sword was William’s hireling knight.

  A slight feeling of irritation that Raymond was still alive passed. It was just as well he was not dead yet. If news of his murder preceded Mauger to Marlowe, there might have been too much excitement there for proper attention to be given to Mauger’s news. Probably there had been too much activity at the docks for Egbert to have the young knight enticed away. Mauger looked up at the darkening sky. If it began to rain really hard, he might use that as an excuse to extend his visit in Marlowe. The previous day Raymond had been back in the keep well before dark. Perhaps his absence would be noted and Mauger could plant the idea that the merchants would have good reason to wish to silence him.

  He rode well to the rear of the docks and spurred his horse up the steep road. There would be nothing suspicious in his eagerness. The weather was excuse enough for a man to hurry to shelter. Obviously the men-at-arms in Marlowe agreed with him. No one looked surprised when Mauger rode through the bailey right up to the door of the forebuilding. The groom who came running to take the horse cursed under his breath, but it was the weather and his fate that drew the obscenities rather than Mauger’s action.

  As he entered the hall he wondered whether Alys knew of the relationship between Elizabeth and her father. If so, would she try to prevent him from seeing William? It was the crippled steward who came to greet him, however. Ostentatiously Mauger looked elsewhere as Martin hobbled forward. When the steward continued to approach, Mauger waved him away. To his surprise, Martin did not scuttle aside and send a servant to summon Alys. He stopped where he was and bowed.

  “You offend me,” Mauger growled. “Take yourself out of my sight.”

  “I am sorry, my lord,” Martin said softly, “but my master is abed and Lady Alys is not in the keep.”

  Mauger opened his mouth to call Martin a liar and say he knew William was up and about, but he remembered he could not explain that knowledge. “Sir William was not so severely hurt as to be still abed,” Mauger snarled. “I have news for him that he will be most eager to hear.”

  “He is abed,” Martin insisted, sidling between Mauger and the door to William’s apartment.

  He was desperate to keep Mauger away from William until Alys had seen Elizabeth and could assure her father that all was well at Hurley. He was intent on his purpose and it simply did not occur to him that a gentleman would use violence on another gentleman’s servant. Thus, he was taken completely by surprise when Mauger stepped up to him, whirled him round, and shoved him away forcefully.

  “Get out of my way, you loathsome filth,” Mauger spat.

  Unable to stop himself, Martin staggered halfway across the hall. A couple of the servants cried out and rushed toward him, they knew in what esteem their master held Martin, but it was too late. Mauger had already gone in through the door and was bellowing a greeting filled with spurious jollity.

  “Oh my God,” Martin breathed, rubbing his protruding chest, which had been bruised when he fell against a chair. “What can I do? What can I do?”

  Impatiently he warned the servants away. They could not help. If Mauger told Sir William that Elizabeth was sick, Sir William would want to rush to Hurley. How to prevent him from harming himself? How? Then relief. Of course he could prevent Sir William from going. He need only mention at the right moment that Alys had already gone and would soon return with reliable news as to Lady Elizabeth’s condition. Perhaps he could somehow hint that over eagerness on Sir William’s part would be embarrassing or even dangerous to Lady Elizabeth. Martin moved as quickly as he could to the open door of Sir William’s apartment, beckoning a servant and whispering that he should bring wine and cups.

  Mauger’s “cheerful” bellow had startled William awake. He had jerked upright, painfully wrenching his half-healed shoulder. This was not all bad because the expression of discomfort on his face hid all other emotions.

  “Mauger!” he exclaimed. “Are you just come?”

  “I am sorry to see you still abed,” Mauger replied, without really answering William’s question, “and still in so much pain.”

  Politeness forced William to swallow the retort that he had not been in pain until Mauger’s stupidity had caused him to make an injudicious movement. The politeness was its own reward as he realized his apparent weakness would be a good excuse for Elizabeth’s having lingered so long at Marlowe. Thus, he made no move to get out of bed, as he would ordinarily have done. He had been wondering simultaneously why Alys had allowed Mauger to walk in on him unannounced and then thought his conclusions might have been hers also. But he had to find something to say.

  “The shoulder wound has been very slow to heal,” William agreed obliquely. “I hope my men behaved well. There was no trouble?”

  “None,” Mauger responded promptly, “although there was no testing. The Welsh had fled away and nothing de Bohun or Clare could do would
tempt them from their mountains. Some feints were made, but we did not have the force to take the large keeps. Mostly we just sat and waited. When our time of service was ended, de Bohun bade us go.”

  Having pulled his pillows up so that he could sit, William leaned back and nodded. “If there had been hopes of a decisive meeting with David, it would have been worthwhile to pay you to remain, but to chase an ignis fatuus through the Welsh hills, an army is more bane than boon. I suppose Hereford will remain with his own troops. Does Gloucester remain also?”

  “How would I know?” Mauger asked a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “I am not a confidant of the great.”

  William wondered uneasily whether the taunt was a deliberate reference to his relationship to Richard of Cornwall and sought for something to say that would be, all at the same time, soothing, unrevealing, and not untrue. The statement, however, was only meant to deflect William from further discussion of the Welsh situation.

  To this end, Mauger did not wait for a reply, but said, smiling as if to take the sting from his words, ”I had really come to quarrel with you, William, but now I see that I should not do so.” Mauger’s smile broadened as he saw William’s color change. He was going to be richly rewarded in amusement, it seemed, for the loss of his wife’s worthless affections.

  “Quarrel with me about what?” William asked. He could not bring himself to add, as he knew he should, I have done nothing to offend you.

  “You used my poor wife so hardly, she has fallen sick,” Mauger answered, still smiling and speaking rightly as if in jest, but his eyes were hard and wary.

  William was so shocked by the first part of Mauger’s remark—made in that jesting tone that he hardly heard and did not make any sense of the second phrase.

  “Used your—used Elizabeth—” he choked. “What the devil do you mean?”

  Before Mauger could reply, Martin hobbled hurriedly into the room carrying a tray with wine and cups. “Do you desire refreshment, my lords?” he asked blandly.

  Mauger restrained an impulse to hit Martin, a restraint more easily applied as it was clear William had not been distracted by the interruption, and he certainly would be distracted if Mauger struck his loathsome pet.

  “What could I mean?” Mauger asked merrily. “Only that she was so worn out with nursing you—”

  “Some wine, my lord?” Martin interrupted, sidling up to Mauger and extending a filled cup. He set it down quickly as he saw the infuriated man’s hand rise and hobbled past him toward the wall. “Will you not sit down, my lord?” He began to drag over a chair too heavy for him to move more than inches at a time.

  The whining obsequiousness of the steward’s voice, the unnatural and unwarranted intrusion, the futile, clumsy effort with the chair, all so unlike Martin’s normal behavior, finally pierced William’s shock. Once his mind began to work, several things leapt into it. Most important was that Mauger was deliberately baiting him. That meant Mauger must know and yet he obviously did not intend to make a challenge of the matter. William knew he had given Mauger the perfect opening to challenge him, and Mauger had made a jest of that also. How had he discovered the truth? Elizabeth would not have… Sick! He had said Elizabeth was sick! William pushed himself upright only to have his view of Mauger blocked by Martin, who had abandoned the chair and scurried around the bed.

  “Lie back, my lord,” he cried urgently. “You would not wish to undo the work of the ladies. Lady Alys would never forgive herself if she knew you had risen from the bed when she was out. I promised her—”

  “What do you mean Elizabeth is sick?” William demanded, paying no more attention to the steward who was now clutching his arm than if a fly had landed there.

  “Lady Alys will know,” Martin went on loudly before Mauger could speak. “We heard this morning that Lady Elizabeth was not well, and Lady Alys went to discover what was wrong and to make sure she was well nursed. You know Lady Alys is skilled in such matters. You remember how well she cared for me…” Martin babbled on, not caring what he said, aware only of the fact that William was now staring at him.

  “You are sure Alys went to Hurley?” he asked.

  “Yes, my lord, certain, absolutely certain.” Martin’s voice was fervent, his eyes held William’s, warning, pleading. “Stay abed until Lady Alys returns. There is nothing you can do. Lady Alys will know.”

  Both men were so intent on each other, trying to communicate what must not be asked or answered openly, that neither had any attention to bestow on Mauger. He had barely choked back a roar of rage when he heard that Alys had set out for Hurley. She would discover Elizabeth was locked in and come running back to… No. Alys would not come back to Marlowe at once. That nasty little bitch was too accustomed to getting her own way. Doubtless she would try to make Emma open the door.

  An uneasy pang passed through Mauger. He realized suddenly that he had left Emma in a faint. He had not heard the bar being seated in its slots. Almost certainly Emma had locked the door as soon as she revived, however, would Emma be proof against Alys’s insistence? What did it matter? Either way it would be a disaster. William would… Then Mauger realized that William could not do a thing! As long as Elizabeth was a hostage, that romantic idiot would not dare do anything, unless…unless Mauger himself were trapped in Marlowe.

  “I am a great fool,” Mauger said. “I should have thought to send for Lady Alys. I keep thinking of her as a child, but, of course, she is not. I will leave you now, William. Perhaps I can catch Alys before she leaves. She could then tell me whether the matter is serious.”

  “But what happened?” William asked frantically, “What did Elizabeth say?”

  “She said it was nothing,” Mauger assured him, now desiring only to get out of Marlowe. “She said she had been tired and worried about you. I would not have made a jest of the matter if I thought she was really sick. I am sure there is no need to worry. Alys will be able to tell you far more than I when she returns.”

  This was almost certainly true, William knew. Besides, he was so confused by the change in Mauger’s manner that he merely nodded in response to the farewell Mauger was making and watched him dazedly as he walked out the door. Then he sighed with relief and sank back on his pillows. Mauger had not been baiting him about being Elizabeth’s lover. He knew nothing. Doubtless he had found Elizabeth depressed and crying, and to excuse herself, she had said she was not feeling well. It was typical of Mauger that he should think that a subject suitable to joke about. William shifted restlessly, trying to convince himself that all was well. Finally he got out of bed and insisted on getting dressed, although he knew he could do nothing until Alys came back with news.

  It was not until Mauger was out of the keep that he relaxed enough to think further on the subject of Alys’s visit to Hurley. He rode as quickly as he could, absently noting that the large riverboat was unloaded and that Raymond did not seem to be anywhere around. As he led his horse onto the ferry, Mauger relaxed still further. His mind, freed from any concern with his own safety, fixed on the fact that he had not met Raymond leaving the keep or the road. So probably Egbert had already drawn him into the ambush and he was dead. One obstacle out of the path. But there would be trouble over this business with Elizabeth.

  Damn that loudmouthed, nosy bitch, Alys. He would never be able to convince her of his sympathy and good will now. He would have to take her by force. The ferry docked and Mauger went ashore and mounted. His eyes swept the river front. They passed over a small boat tied to the pier with two boatmen huddled under skins to shelter from the rain, which was becoming heavy. Mauger started his horse forward, eager to get to shelter before the few, heavy drops became a downpour and then reined the beast in sharply. That was the boat from Marlowe! Alys was still in Hurley!

  All at once a complete, perfect plan was born. There would be no need to entice Alys or to force her. There would be no need for refinements or subterfuges to achieve William’s death. Loosening his rein, Mauger dug his spurs deep into
his horse’s flanks. He could hold Alys, send a message to William that Elizabeth was very sick and Alys staying to care for her. That would bring William to Hurley, half-healed or not, and they would all be completely in his power.

  He was so eager to close the jaws of his trap on Alys that he rode through the outer and inner baileys without a word, leapt from his horse, and rushed up into the hall. One sweeping glance told him that Alys was not, as he suspected she might be, furiously waiting for him to return so that she could demand he let her in to see Elizabeth. Possibly she was still upstairs arguing with Emma. He hurried up, stopped short, choking with disappointment. Alys was nowhere in sight and the maids were quietly at work.

  Maud saw him and came across the room to tell him, with a pleased smile, that all would now surely be well with Elizabeth, since Lady Alys had come to visit her. Mauger gaped at her. He realized that Emma had not locked the door and Alys had simply walked in, so that the maids still had no suspicion that anything was wrong.

  “She is still there?” Mauger asked breathlessly, hardly believing his good luck.

  “Yes, and I am sure—”

  But Mauger did not wait for her to finish speaking. He thrust past her, lifted the latch on Elizabeth’s door and pushed. The door would not open. Damn that idiot Emma! Mauger rattled the latch, hoping the girl would come and open it and the women would think only that the latch or door had stuck. When that did not work, Mauger lost his temper. What did it matter what a bunch of silly women thought. He pounded on the door violently, shouting, “Let me in, Emma. It is I, Mauger.”

  As the men attacking Raymond drew back a little to unify their rush at him, he leapt sideways, jerking at the latch of the door. It was a small hope, but it was his only hope. Although only four men ringed him now, all of them would, be back in action soon, Raymond feared. He was proud of his fighting skills, but did not pretend to himself that he could hold off so many for much longer. They could afford to send a few at a time against him while the others rested until he was too exhausted to defend himself. Raymond knew he would die in that fetid room if he could not get out.