Wearing a Mask - a Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Book 14)

by Lisa Shea

  Her breath was weak. “Do you mean that message is what King John has been waiting for, to revoke the Magna Carta? This one cylinder is the only thing which holds him back from tearing apart those who forced him to sign it?”

  Eric gazed at the cylinder as if it held the mysteries of the universe. “John sent his envoys to Pope Innocent III pleading for assistance with the dismantling of the Magna Carta. While this message here is not the final declaration, it is good enough. It is confirmation from his spies in the Orsini family that the Pope is fully on his side.”

  Isabel couldn’t breathe.

  England was about to be torn apart, from the inside, by war.

  Her voice trembled. “But once the King knows he can declare the Magna Carta invalid, every single man who signed it will have his death warrant signed. King John will destroy them with impunity.”

  “Exactly. And we know how cruel the King can be. He may wish to make examples of family members. Of associates.”

  Isabel shivered at the thought.

  Her eyes moved again to the cylinder. “But King John doesn’t have that news yet. Right now, the Magna Carta is in force. He cannot act. He can hardly take action against a document he just signed.”

  “That is why King John waits. He is biding his time, counting the minutes until the floodgates can be opened.”

  Isabel shakily drew in a breath, the full import of the message sinking in. “The nobles need this time. This pause before the storm. They need to fortify their castles and bring in supplies to last through the coming sieges. Every keep will be critical.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Especially my father’s keep. The Tower of London.”

  “The Tower of London is the key. It is the main defensive structure in London, and London is a keystone of the land.”

  Suddenly Isabel realized this was just not about her father and one lone castle. It was about the fate of the entirety of England.

  She murmured, “My father has spoken out in support of the Magna Carta. He has praised King John for his wisdom of respecting his nobles and barons.” Her fingers clenched. “Could it be this view – which his men share – which is causing King John to bring in an outsider?”

  Eric’s eyes shone. “I knew you would see it, if I provided you with all the facts. King John wishes to use the Tower of London as a prison. As a torture chamber. As a way to threaten and destroy every man who spoke out for freedom. Who spoke out for justice.”

  The thought sent Isabel’s blood cold.

  Eric leaned forward. “If we allow King John to install Lord Bedemor as ruler of that keep, with all of his men, he will sweep away the men like your father and his students. Men who treasure justice and sanity. Men who believe in the words of the Magna Carta.”

  He held her gaze. “You have met King John. You know what he’s like. He wants a man in that position who the King feels will obey him without question. A man without personal ties to the Tower or any within it. A man who whose loyalty is to him and only him.”

  Isabel couldn’t breathe. She could see it now. King John would ruthlessly drive out any remnant of those who might be swayed by the rebel lords. Any man who might have personal ties to the Tower or those within it. King John wanted only loyal puppets he could control.

  There was a movement from the dining room. Philip had taken a step toward the door, his face tense. She wondered just how pale she looked.

  She made a waving motion to him, reassuring him that she was all right. Eric was not threatening her in any way.

  He was opening her eyes.

  She turned back to Eric. “I see, now, why you wanted to explain these things to me. However, why could we not discuss it in front of the other men? Surely they are as well versed in these political issues as you are. They could have added insight.”

  Eric chuckled and shook his head. “Again, lass, you are naïve when it comes to loyalties and motivations.” He glanced back toward the dining room. “Tell me, dearest Isabel, who do those soldiers ultimately work for?”

  Tension drew across Isabel’s shoulders. “King John, of course. He is their King and the one who directs them where to fight. Their commander, James, was known for his loyalty in following each order the King sent. James made the ultimate sacrifice - he died in that service. It is why the four men have returned to England.”

  “And these soldiers of King John. If disgruntled nobles were to rise up against their King, with whom would the soldiers’ loyalties lie?”

  Isabel paled. It took her a moment to speak the words she knew were true. “They would side with King John. Braun spoke highly of James’s obedience to King John. Even Philip would not open the cylinder because it was intended for royal hands.”

  Eric took a step toward her. “You see now, my sweet. You see the picture forming. But you still do not see it in its entirety. And that is because you have been lied to by those you trusted.”

  Isabel’s eyes turned back to Philip.

  He had not moved. He stood ready, watching over her, guarding her with his life. She had no doubt, should she call for him, that he would race to her side.

  She squared her shoulders. “You are wrong, Eric. Philip would not lie to me. I would trust him with my very soul.”

  The corners of his lips turned up. “And you never questioned the events of the past few weeks? How you were unable to find passage on a ship until the one turned up that they were on? That they stayed with you every step of the way since then? That when any news of Lord Bedemor arose, they were quick to slink away into the night?”

  Confusion roiled at Isabel’s heart. “They were only protecting me from Lord Bedemor,” she insisted. “They knew how I felt about the man.”

  “Tell me again, why do you hate Lord Bedemor so?”

  Anger roiled within Isabel. “Because he is ousting my father! Because he is a puppet of King John. Because he will change the Tower of London from a place of refuge and safety to one of cruelty and torture!”

  Eric took her hands in his. His eyes held hers with intense focus.

  “My dearest Isabel, who is Lord Bedemor?”

  The words rose hot and heavy. “I don’t know! He’s an outsider! Some noble lap-dog being rewarded for his unswerving, unquestioning loyalty! Some pawn of King John!”

  Eric gave her hands a squeeze.

  “My dear Isabel, Lord Bedemor is Philip.”

  Chapter 17

  Isabel stared at Eric in disbelief.

  The words burst out of her. “Philip is not Lord Bedemor! That’s ridiculous. I don’t believe you. Why would you lie about something like that?”

  He spread his arms wide, his face holding rich satisfaction. “Ask him yourself.”

  She would prove Eric wrong.

  She spun on her heel and threw open the door. She stormed over to stand before Philip. Surely her loyal soldier, her attentive bodyguard, the man she trusted with all she held dear –

  Her words left her.

  He was dressed in clothing which equaled any in the court. Elegant black leather was chased with crimson, swirling in elaborate display. She had thought of it simply as a costume before, but how she saw how easily he bore it. How perfectly it suited him. She could see it now in his steady stance. In the sureness of the set of his shoulders. In the easy way his hand rested on his hilt.

  The words stuttered out of her. “It’s … it’s you.”

  Philip’s eyes flickered to Eric and then back to her again. “Isabel, what did Eric tell you?”

  All the pieces began falling into place. “You tried to hide it from me! When you were recognized in that tavern you made sure we raced out the back door so I wouldn’t find out! You didn’t want me to know that you were Lord Bedemor!”

  Philip’s jaw tightened and he blew out his breath. He took a step forward. “Isabel, I wanted to tell you. I was just waiting for the right time.”

  “The right time?”

  His words came quickly. “You said that you despised Lord Bedemor. When I p
ursued the issue, you refused to tell me why. I needed to give you time to explain your emotions so that I could address them properly.”

  Isabel’s tone grew curt. “So that you could invent new lies to seduce me, you mean!”

  “No! So that I did not drive you further away!”

  Isabel barely heard him. The idea that Philip had been lying to her this entire time – deliberately deceiving her – carved her to her very soul.

  How could she trust anything he had done? Anything he had told her?

  Eric had stepped into the room during their conversation. He now held the silver cylinder out to her in reminder of all Lord Bedemor represented.

  Fresh anger flared in Isabel. “Philip, are you loyal to King John?”

  Fire blazed in Philip’s eyes. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “Of course I am. I would defend him to the death.”

  “And do whatever he ordered,” she snapped.

  He nodded, his eyes holding her with serious attention. “It is my sworn duty.”

  She could not have him near her.

  Not with the lies. Not with the threat he posed.

  She flung an arm up, her finger pointing to the door. “Out. I want all of you out.”

  He stared at her in disbelief.

  His voice grew rough. “Isabel, don’t fall for Eric’s lies. He is deceiving you –”

  “HE is deceiving me?” The sheer outrage of it shocked her. “How could you even say such a thing, after what you’ve done to me?”

  “But I would have –”

  She stepped back to stand by Eric. “Enough. I want you all out of my sight this very minute.”

  Philip’s hand clenched on his hilt. “Whatever Eric has said –”

  “Eric has spoken the truth to me,” she snapped. “Where all you seem capable of is telling lies. I will not listen to you any further. You will leave.”

  As if by magic, sturdy guards appeared at each entrance to the room. The set to their gazes indicated that they were willing to do whatever it took to maintain the safety of the household.

  Philip looked as if he balanced on the edge of a blade. He hesitated, his shoulders tense …

  At last he blew out his breath. He bowed low to Isabel. “I can see you’re upset. We will leave, for now.” His voice grew urgent. “But you are still in danger, Isabel. Remember, you are in the presence of a man who tasked the murder of two of the King’s royal messengers. Who was willing to drown an entire ship-load of innocent passengers in order to hide his deed.”

  Eric’s voice was calm. “I only asked for the message and the messengers. It was critical that those be brought to me immediately. Isabel understands why. If I made a mistake, It was trusting that Marianne could handle it properly.”

  Isabel could not take any more talk of machinations and deceptions. She ordered Philip, “Out!”

  Philip’s eyes were somber. He bowed again. He glanced at his three friends, giving them a nod.

  And then, to her relieved surprise, they left.

  Eric followed them out. The guards moved behind them, and she had no doubt that the four soldiers would be escorted through the very gates of the walls.

  The room settled into silence. Only the flickering candles remained in motion.

  She was alone.

  Utterly and completely alone.

  Chapter 18

  Isabel had no idea how much time had passed. A minute? An hour? A day? At last there was a motion at her side. Eric gently took her hand and guided her into the sitting room. A fire was merrily burning away beneath a marble mantel. Paintings on the wall portrayed horses grazing in a peaceful meadow. A tall shelf to one side held numerous scrolls with gilt edges.

  He eased her into a tall, leather chair and she did not resist. In a moment he brought her a mug of thick, red wine. She gratefully drank it down.

  He settled himself opposite her.

  They sat.

  The fire gleamed in orange, gold, and rust. The logs groaned and settled. And yet she could still not quite wrap her mind around what she had just learned.

  Philip was Lord Bedemor.

  Philip was devotedly loyal to King John.

  He would sweep clean the Tower of London of all who worked there, ruthlessly driving them out, in order to turn the fortress into a torture chamber for any who signed the Magna Carta. Those brave barons who had pushed for a justice-based rule would now be cruelly destroyed.

  The honorable lords had been the last chance of hope for a country ravaged by King John’s greed and excesses. And now all hope would be lost.

  Isabel had looked into the King’s cruel eyes. She had a sense of just how far that man would go to destroy his enemies. To ensure that no others ever rose up against him.

  She wearily shook her head. “How could I not see it? Undoubtedly Philip and the others were on the boat to ensure the safety of the message. It’s why they so promptly came to my aid when I indicated there was trouble. And, once they had the message, they wanted to track down who was responsible for its theft. Again, to tell King John. They made that very clear to me.”

  “They were quite good at telling you pieces of tales, weren’t they,” commiserated Eric. “They told you just enough to lure you in. They told you they were crusaders back from the war – but Philip didn’t admit to you that he was Lord Bedemor. He didn’t bother to inform you that, when James fell during that battle, Philip was granted the title for his actions in the conflict.”

  Eric gave a wry smile. “Lord Bedemor is no longer just the mere second son, losing out on every turn to his elder brother. Now he has been awarded a title of his very own. Normally you’d think that would be something to be proud of, right?”

  Isabel did think so. And Philip’s feeble excuse that he was waiting for the right time was complete balderdash. There were a hundred different moments that he could have told her the news. A hundred different ways in which he could have explained the truth and trusted in her to handle it well.

  But he hadn’t trusted her.

  Eric refilled her glass, which somehow had half emptied. “Lord Bedemor wanted that Tower of London for himself,” he murmured. “What man in his position wouldn’t? It’s the ultimate way for him to please King John. To rise even higher in King John’s estimation. He would want to follow King John’s orders to the letter. To exterminate every last soldier with leanings toward the Magna Carta rebels.”

  It made perfect sense to Isabel.

  She sighed. “What am I to do?”

  He glanced out the window. “It is getting late. I suggest we take up this discussion in the morning.”

  Tension shot through her.

  Suddenly she remembered with frightening clarity that she was alone with Eric in his own home. His guards stood around every corner. She was wholly and completely vulnerable.

  Her throat closed up. “I think I should go back to the tavern.”

  His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

  “No, my dear.”

  She could barely breathe. “What do you mean?”

  His teeth glittered in the firelight.

  “I have a much better idea.”

  Chapter 19

  Isabel’s heart hammered against her ribs and her hand fell to the hilt at her side. Andetnes was her only protection now. She didn’t know how long she could hold out against Eric and his guards, but she would do everything she could.

  She would not let Eric have her.

  His eyes ran down her body. “My dear Isabel, do you know how stunning you look when you have that fire in your eyes?”

  Her fingers wrapped around the hilt.

  If he took one step closer …

  He stood, genially holding out a hand. “Come, let me take you down to the carriage.”

  Confusion roiled her. “I thought you said I wasn’t going back to the tavern.”

  He smiled. “Of course not. Why would you stay in a rented room when your home is barely a long walk away? It is time to return you to your fath
er.”

  Her father?

  She stared at him in disbelief. She was scarcely able to believe her ears.

  Her words barely had breath. “You will take me to my father?”

  He nodded, his smile easy. “There’s no reason to hide your presence any more, is there? After all, you know who has the Orsinis’ message. It is me. You know why I have it. Surely you do not wish to inform the King about its whereabouts or content?”

  She shook her head.

  He continued, “I’m sure you agree, the longer we keep it safely hidden, the longer those who strive to rein in King John’s cruelty have to prepare. Your father is a key part of that preparation.”

  Isabel nodded, the truth of it filling her. “My father will need to know what is happening. We have to make sure we are ready to withstand a siege of great length. The official message from the Pope cannot be far behind this. And once it arrives -”

  Eric somberly nodded. “Once it arrives, we will descend into a madness the likes of which we have never seen.”

  He looked down at her. “It could be months – or even years – before the barons are able to defeat King John’s forces. To force him to agree to the terms of the Magna Carta – or to find another in line to the throne who will.”

  Isabel’s throat closed up. She had no idea the situation was so tense.

  Eric’s gaze held hers, full of strength. “You must do whatever it takes to help your father get ready.”

  “Of course I will,” she agreed.

  His brow drew together. “You must also ensure that Philip and his group do not gain entrance to the tower. They are clearly King John’s loyal warriors in this conflict. Any knowledge they gain of the structure and its weaknesses would be used against those within once an attack began.”

  Isabel wrapped her arms around her. The thought of her father being besieged shook her to her core. “My poor father. I have to get to his side.”

  Eric put his hand in hers and gently lifted her to her feet. “I agree completely. Come, let us go.”

  She went with light feet, the world starting to make sense again.

  Eric was bringing her back to her home. She would be with her father.