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

by Lisa Shea

  And together they would stand against whatever the world unleashed.

  There was no sign of Philip or his men as she crossed the short distance to the carriage, and she smiled in satisfaction. Undoubtedly he and his friends had slunk back to King John’s side, to report all they knew. But what would that be? They did not know what the message held – a statement of support or a dismissal of King John’s pleas. They knew that Eric had taken the message, but Isabel had a sense that Eric had enough support in the court to wriggle out of that trap. She had no doubt that the message would never be found on him or anywhere in his household, should soldiers arrive to question him.

  She nodded as Eric climbed into the carriage with her. A moment later and they were rumbling through the main gates.

  Eric patted her leg as they rode. “Your father is a good man, Isabel. He is wise and understanding. He will listen to you and your advice. Make sure he gathers up his most trusted lieutenants. Draw together whatever supplies you will need sooner rather than later. We can’t know how far behind these messengers the official Papal delegation will be. And once they arrive with the written proof that the Magna Carta has been dismissed …”

  Isabel knew exactly what would happen then.

  Hell on Earth.

  Her voice was hoarse. “I will do everything in my power to help him prepare,” she promised. “We will not let the tower be used to torture those who risked their lives for England.”

  His voice held compassion. “You are a loving daughter. If you need anything – anything at all – you have but to ask. I have soldiers, swords, dried meats, and much more. I have known this was coming for some time now. My own house is in good order. I will lend you whatever I can.”

  “I appreciate that immensely, Eric. You have already done so much.”

  “How could I not, with what is at stake?”

  The words resonated in Isabel’s heart.

  The carriage pulled up to a halt. “And here you are. Perhaps I might come by tomorrow to talk with your father? I can provide him with details of what supplies and support I can offer, for him to factor into his plans.”

  “Of course,” she agreed. “I know he will appreciate your help.”

  He took her hand in his and lowered his lips to brush her skin. “Until then.”

  The servant pulled open the door, and she descended.

  The two guards on duty stared at her in surprise, and then ran forward with joy on their faces. “Isabel!”

  Isabel drew them in, laughing.

  She barely noticed the carriage leave as the calls rang out, as her soldier friends came from all corners of the castle to greet her. She was hugged, kissed, swung around, and it seemed every man present found her lovelier than she’d ever been. By the time her father came down to join her she was beaming with joy.

  He drew her into his arms, his eyes shining. “You are back to me, my darling Isabel. I take it your task completed without further complications? An old man’s fondest wish has been granted.”

  His eyes went to behind her. “But where are the others?”

  Her face shadowed. “There is a tale to tell there, Father.”

  She looked up at the moon, shimmering high in the night sky. “But let us discuss that in the morning, when your top lieutenants are available. I’m sure I pulled you out of bed with my late arrival.”

  He nodded. “As you wish, my dear. Your room is waiting for you, as always.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Oh, and Lord Ingram will probably be coming by in the morning to confer with us. I know relations have been tense between us in the past, but my eyes have been opened. I wholly believe in what he is doing. Please listen to what he has to say.”

  Her father’s brow creased, but he nodded. “I trust in your judgement. I will give the man audience.”

  He ran a fond hand down her arm. “My dearest Isabel. It is good to have you back. Do you need anything?”

  She shook her head. “Just being home is enough.”

  She drew him into a warm embrace, and for a moment all the troubles of the world eased away. For a moment it was just him and her, safely within the Tower’s walls.

  At last she reluctantly released him. “I will see you in the morning.”

  She could have made the way up to her room blindfolded, so well did she know the way. Around every corner was the greeting of a maid or the welcome of a guard. At long last she reached the sturdy oak of her door.

  She pressed it in.

  Her breath left her, and her eyes welled.

  Her father had left it exactly as it had been the day she left the Tower to marry Diggory. Every brush, every item was just as she had placed it. It was as if it was sitting here all this time waiting for her to return.

  There, to her right, was her desk. Her drawing pencils were laid out neatly in a row along with a small stack of precious parchment.

  Her shelves held her most treasured items. The small figurine of a dog which her father had carried back from Rome during his time with the Crusades. A round marble she’d found in the River Thames as a young girl. The twisted stick that she’d been convinced was an ancient unicorn horn.

  Her lips pressed.

  And there, to the right of the unicorn horn, was the bolt. The one that had pierced her leg as a young girl.

  The one shot by Lord Ingram.

  She stepped forward to stare at it.

  It seemed so long ago now. It seemed the wisp of a dream. At the time she had nothing but hatred in her heart for Lord Ingram. He had seemed intent on having her as his very own, and nothing would stand in his way.

  Her hand reached out to touch the metal.

  But she was an adult now. A widow. She had seen what the world could do to a person. And Lord Ingram had proven himself to be an astute negotiator in a troubled time. He, alone, was holding King John at bay before the destructive cycle which she knew would ravage the entire country. The moment it became known that Pope Innocent III was remanding the Magna Carta, and that everything it stood for was null and void, King John would rain holy fire down on every baron who forced him to sign it.

  The destruction would be complete.

  Isabel nodded to herself.

  She had to put her childish prejudices behind her. Lord Ingram had been a young man caught up in her youthful beauty. She had been a girl fearful of such advances. Now that she had been married and widowed she was past such things. She must learn to work with Lord Ingram to help keep the Tower strong for her father and all who lived within. For the barons who risked their lives to create the Magna Carta.

  For England.

  She moved to the heavy oak wardrobe and drew it open. All of her favorite dresses, practice outfits, and other clothing were hung or stacked within. She carefully climbed out of her beautiful dress and hung it in the wardrobe. Then she drew out her sleeping gown.

  Her eyes grew moist.

  She was in her own clothes.

  The wonder of it all overwhelmed her. As much as the coming chaos threatened, for this one moment she was home. She was safe with her father.

  The low fire crackled warmly as she crossed to the windows, closing each curtain in turn. The courtyards below were quiet. In the morning they’d wake with activity as the men practiced, as the cooks carried herbs, and as the countless other activities of the tower set into motion for a fresh day.

  She looked forward to it with all her heart.

  She pulled the last curtain closed.

  There was a soft scratching at the door.

  She turned with delight, and she strode forward, pulling the door open.

  Hillie stood there, his thin tail slowly wagging from side to side.

  Now her eyes did overflow with tears, and she dropped to a knee to draw him in. “Oh, my beloved Hillie, I’m home!”

  She shook with emotion, her cheeks becoming streams. For a long while she just held him, soaking in his scent and warmth. It was an eon before she finally stood again.

  She w
atched with tender joy as he moved to his rug before the fire, turned three times, and laid down, his gaze on her.

  She went to the door and closed it again.

  Then she yawned.

  It had been a long, long day. Come to think of it, it had been a long year. A year of hardship and disappointment, of trial and tribulation.

  But now she was home.

  She moved to her canopied bed, leaving the curtains open. She wanted to see it all. If she woke during the night, or when she rose in the morning, she wanted that reassurance that she was back where she belonged.

  She was in the Tower.

  She climbed under the dark blue covers and eased back onto the pillow.

  Everything was exactly as it should be.

  She closed her eyes.

  She drifted …

  Scratch.

  Scratch.

  She gave a sleepy smile.

  Hillie was certainly not as young as he once was. No doubt his ancient bladder needed a release during the night.

  She stumbled out of bed and made her way over to the door.

  She pulled it open for Hillie –

  A man stood there in the opening.

  Chapter 20

  Isabel stared at the figure in growing shock. “Who –”

  He swept into the room, clamped his hand over her mouth, and hipped the door shut.

  Fear and fury rose within her in a tumultuous twine. She drew in a deep breath –

  He released her and stepped back by the fire, so his face was thrown into profile.

  It was Philip.

  Rage seared through her.

  He was here to scout the castle’s weaknesses! To plot its destruction!

  She opened her mouth –

  He dropped to a knee before her.

  Hillie lifted his head from where he had been sleeping by the fire. The dog nuzzled his head under Philip’s hand. Philip gently scratched Hillie’s ear, his gaze on Isabel. “Please. I just need to talk to you.”

  The sight of the two of them together, of the two she once would have called her rocks of loyalty, eased the iron in Isabel’s heart. She moved over to the foot of her bed and sat on it. She gave a curt nod. “All right, I will listen. But I warn you, if I sense one more lie then I raise the alarm. And Lord Bedemor or no Lord Bedemor, I will have my father throw you into the high cell for forcing your way into my room.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I swear to you, everything I tell you is from the heart. It is wholly honest.”

  She crossed her arms. “All right, then. Tell your tale.”

  He remained kneeling before her. “Everything is as I told you. My father married a wealthy woman. He had two sons with her. The eldest inherited everything, while I was trained to be a soldier. I traveled constantly with my father and, when I reached adulthood, I set out on my own as a soldier. It was the only course open to me.”

  Isabel listened, steeling herself to be strong. After all, the man had already hidden truths from her for their entire time together.

  “During the Crusades, my father had served with a fine soldier. Lord James Bedemor. When Lord Bedemor wrote to seek men for fresh action in Germany, it seemed the perfect fit. I proved my skill in battle and strategy. Over time I was made a captain. I grew to trust and rely on Johann, Luigi, and Braun. And Lord Bedemor knew that, no matter what challenge lay before us, we would find a way to see his will done.”

  Isabel could believe it. She had seen for herself what the men were capable of when they had a task before them.

  His eyes shadowed. “The fighting was often rough. We lost many good men. My three friends saved my life countless times.”

  His fingers clenched the hilt of his sword. “A soldier plans for danger when in the thick of battle. He has eyes in the back of his head. But when the battle is won, he can sometimes let down his guard.”

  Isabel sat forward.

  His voice went tight. “We were celebrating a decided victory over the enemy forces. The few stragglers who retreated into the woods were returning to their farms and crofts. The local villagers welcomed us with open arms. Ale was flowing at the tavern, and voices rang high in song.”

  He shook his head. “James was a caring leader. A widower with no children of his own who took us all on as his family. So, when one of the tavern waitresses took a shine to him, we sent them off. We felt he was well deserving of a night of joy.”

  Isabel’s heart twisted in somber anticipation.

  He dropped his eyes to Hillie, running his fingers through the aged dog’s fur. “We found him the next morning. His throat had been slit. Perhaps the woman had been the mother of one of the enemies we had killed the previous day. Perhaps she had been the lover. We will never know. We searched for days but could not find her. There was no way to bring the body home in the heat of summer, so we buried him in the local churchyard. I have his ring and other personal items with me, to return to his family.”

  Her lips pressed. “And now King John intends to make you the next Lord Bedemor.”

  He reluctantly nodded. “When we sent news of what had happened, we received that response. But it is not an honor I had ever wished for. I would give anything for the true Lord Bedemor to be alive again. For him to be relishing the fruits of all the battles he fought. For him to take his well-earned rest.”

  He shook his head. “When we climbed onto that boat, our only thought was to cross the channel, rent horses in Dover, and make the remaining way to wherever King John was currently residing to see him before continuing on to James’s family. London seemed the best bet, given the tension surrounding his recent signing of the Magna Carta.” He gave a wry smile. “But fate interceded.”

  Her fingers clenched. “So you claim you were not on that ship in order to protect the messengers.”

  His eyes blinked open. “What? Of course not. We had no idea that there were messengers on the ship. Certainly not that anybody carried a message for the King. If we had known that, we would have offered our protection to them.” His gaze grew hard. “We never would have allowed them to be harmed.”

  Isabel frowned. “So you state you knew nothing about the Orsinis or the content of that silver case.”

  His fingers folded over the hilt of his sword. “I swear it, on my honor.”

  Isabel pursed her lips. It could simply be that Eric was mistaken about that part of the complicated espionage. After all, even his network of spies might not be infallible.

  She nodded. “All right, then. So if that is true, then once we acquired the message and were taking it north to King John, why did you not tell me then that you are Lord Bedemor?”

  His gaze shadowed. “I know I should have trusted you, Isabel. I should have relied on your understanding. But you seemed so furious with Lord Bedemor. So filled with hate. And when I tried to learn more, you refused to talk about it. I wanted to figure out what drove such strong emotions. I didn’t want to force it out of you and I didn’t want to risk creating a rift between us. I thought we would have time to discuss it after.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “After? After what?”

  His brow creased. “After we handed the message over to King John. After we brought him the names of those involved in the conspiracy. After I’d had my visit with James’s family, to return his personal effects, and we both met up again at the Tower.”

  The cold shock of it swept back in on her.

  The entire time of the trip, she’d been worried about Philip leaving her when the quest was done. He’d visit with James’s family certainly. But then he would return north to his father, or east to resume fighting, and she’d never see him again.

  But that had not been his plan at all.

  His plan, from the start, was to come to the Tower of London.

  To imprison those brave souls who believed in the cause of the Magna Carta.

  To drive out her father.

  She rose shakily to her feet. “You were going to take control of the Tower! For
King John!”

  Tension ran down his shoulders. “Yes, it’s what the King had –”

  Her voice rose high. “You were going to replace my father and rule this Tower according to King John’s mandate!”

  He put his hands up. “Yes, but Isabel –”

  Her voice rose high. “Help! Help!”

  Philip rose to his feet. “Good God, Isabel, I would never in a thousand years –”

  The door burst open and her father strode in, his gaze sweeping. “Isabel, what –”

  His eyes honed in on Philip and flared into life.

  “You! You dare to force your way into my daughter’s room! Guards!”

  Instantly five guards appeared, swords high.

  Philip kept his hands well clear of his sword. “I swear, I meant your daughter no harm. I only wanted –”

  Her father’s face darkened. “I know what you wanted, you rogue. But instead you’ll be getting well acquainted with our tower, for that is going to be your new home for a while.”

  He motioned to the guards. “Take him away.”

  Philip swung to look at Isabel –

  She turned her back on him. She would not allow herself to be swayed further by the man she had once trusted with her life.

  There were footsteps, and the sound of steel on leather as Philip was disarmed.

  More footsteps.

  Silence.

  A weary hand was gently laid on her shoulder, and she folded in against her father.

  He tenderly stroked her hair. “It’s all right, my dearest Isabel. We’ll take care of it. You go back to bed.”

  He left and closed the door behind him.

  Isabel crumpled to a heap next to Hillie. He licked her hand before resting his head back between his paws.

  Isabel knew she should be happy. Philip was safely under lock and key. He could not threaten her father further.

  And yet her heart felt hollow, as if all had been lost.

  Chapter 21

  Isabel blinked wearily awake. A cold fire lay before her. She resignedly ran a hand through her hair. Now where was she? Had Diggory abandoned her in a tavern and gone off drinking with friends? How would she find him?