by Lisa Shea
She drew to sitting –
Joy swept in on her.
She was home.
Hillie was curled up at her side, sound asleep. His breath came in long, slow snores. The curtains were still closed, but beyond them she could see the glow of light. She could hear the clang-on-clang of soldiers training in the courtyard. The high laugh of one of the maids, undoubtedly being flirted with by a beau.
Everything was as it should be.
Except … what? What was the shadow lurking within her?
Her breath caught.
Philip was being held prisoner in the tower.
The golden light faded from her heart.
How could everything be so upside-down?
There was a gentle knock on her door.
She pushed up to standing and brushed down her gown. She stepped to the door and pulled it open.
Jolenta, her favorite maidservant, was standing in the hall, her blonde hair askew, her pale eyes bright with delight. “So it’s true! You’ve returned to us at last, miss! We are so happy to have you back.”
Isabel smiled. “Thank you so much. It’s good to be home.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but your father has sent for you. He says that he has gathered together his top captains, as you discussed last night. If you’re ready –”
“I’ll be ready,” promised Isabel. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Very good, miss.” Jolenta curtsied and hurried back down the hallway.
Isabel closed the door and turned to the wardrobe. It felt so good to select out her own clothing. To put on the white chemise and then the forest-green dress, fastening it with a leather belt. Green had always been her favorite color and she fondly ran a hand down its length.
Now that she was dressed, she pulled open the curtains to give herself some more light.
There, across the courtyard, was the tower.
Her heart fluttered … twisted … and steeled.
Philip, the man who threatened all she held dear, was in that tower.
She would do whatever it took to ensure he stayed there.
She brushed her auburn hair out until it shone. Then she created a braid along her brow line to hold it back from her face. At last, she strapped Andetnes onto her hip. The weight of her sword there felt solid and true. Satisfied, she slipped into her shoes and headed to the door.
Hillie carefully drew himself to his feet and slowly padded along at her side.
Isabel walked down the hall and along the stairs, stopping to smile and hug in answer to the many warm greetings she met along the way. The newness of it all lifted her. It was as if her dearest wish had come true. As if everything were falling into place exactly as it should be.
So why was there this darkness lurking in the corners?
She moved her way into the great hall. A large table at the center was flanked by chairs on all sides. Standing around were men she had grown up with, had eaten every meal with. Who she adored as her own family and who she would give her last breath for.
The chorus rose up. “Isabel!”
She ran from man to man, embracing them in warm hugs. And then her father was there before her, and she folded into his arms. His gaze was clear and bright; his stance strong. He looked like the soldier she remembered from her youth. The man who had ably watched over the Tower for many long years.
At last they settled down and found their seats. Isabel sat to her father’s left, wanting to be as near to him as possible. She had been away for far too long. Hillie curled up protectively at her side.
The seat at his right stayed empty, and she looked at it in curiosity. “Father, are we expecting one more?”
Her father looked up. “Ah, here he comes.”
Strolling through the door, looking around in complete satisfaction, was Lord Ingram.
Chapter 22
Hillie growled.
Fury burst through Isabel’s heart at the triumphant look in Lord Ingram’s gaze, and it was only with effort that she fought her emotion down. She strove to remind herself that things had changed. Her long, tumultuous years of fending off Lord Ingram were over. For now she understood the intricate political issues descending on London. The tenuous truce of the Magna Carta, about to be shattered. The cruel, vindictive revenge that King John would rain down on every noble who participated in that signing.
The danger which hung over every man’s head in this room.
She forced herself to smile. To lower a hand to Hillie’s head and reassure him with gentle pats. Hillie could not understand the way of humans. How sometimes a person you thought was an enemy turned out to be an ally.
And vice versa.
Lord Ingram settled himself down into the chair at her father’s right and stretched back in delight. “Gentlemen, welcome. It is so good to have you all here.”
Isabel bristled, but she drew in a deep breath. Lord Ingram just had a way of talking which was not the same as her soldiers. He was a man of courts and negotiations. He would be much needed in the coming weeks, to help them navigate the chaos which would ensue.
He leaned forward.
“Gentlemen, until now our threats have been from without. We have fought the Saracens and the Turks. The French and the Germans. But I am afraid that we now face one of the most challenging conflicts of all. For it is one which will ravage our innocents. Our poor. Our sick. Our elderly. Our children. Our women.”
His eyes went to Isabel with warm compassion.
Isabel held in a flinch. She was hardly to be lumped in with elderly and children. Did she not have Andetnes on her hip and know well how to use it?
Lord Ingram spread his arms. “We are tasked to defend the people of England. To ensure their safety against all threats. As part of that mission, we all lauded King John for signing the Magna Carta. That powerful document, a proper successor to King Henry’s ‘Bill of Liberty,’ promised to bring peace and security to all citizens of England.”
Murmurs and nods went around the table.
Lord Ingram held their eyes. “But I have received word, direct from Italy, that Pope Innocent III cares only about his continued wealth. He cares only for the money he can soak out of our King. And so he has taken drastic action. Unthinkable action.”
Her father’s eyes flashed. “What has he done?”
Lord Ingram waited for a dramatic pause. Then he stated, cold and flat –
“The Pope has wholly and completely annulled the Magna Carta.”
The room burst into shouts and oaths. Her father’s voice rose above it. “He can’t do that! It was witnessed and signed!”
Lord Ingram nodded wisely, as if only he understood the machinations of those in power. “The Pope cares little about the will of the people. About the abuses of power of King John. He solely wants more gold for his altars. He accused the barons of forcing the King into signing this unjust, illegal document under duress. The Pope was most concerned with the ‘security clause’ – the clause which said any twenty-five barons might override any decision the King might make.”
Lord Ingram raised an eyebrow. “What if the Pope required a fresh shipment of gold, and the barons refused to send it? How would His Holiness create new gold-studded bracelets and emerald-crusted rings?”
The mutters around the table grew louder.
Her father lay his hands flat on the table. “We have always been staunch supporters of the Manga Carta. It is our duty to protect the people of London. We have done so during the long years that King Richard was off on his distant Crusades. We will continue to do so despite the whims and dalliances of our current King John.”
“You are a wise and just man,” praised Lord Ingram with a smile. “We must prepare for the coming chaos. The moment King John receives official news of the annulment from Pope Innocent III, we can only imagine what he will do. He is a man of cruel tendencies. He will seek to destroy every baron who laid his mark on that Magna Carta. He will seek revenge on every person who, in his mind,
humiliated and emasculated him.”
Isabel shuddered. She could easily imagine the King rejoicing in each enemy’s destruction. She could see him taking a personal hand in the tortures and perhaps even executions.
Her father looked to his captains. “We must set double watches on the walls. Increase our food stores. Many of the barons currently residing in London were instrumental in signing the Magna Carta. King John will come into the city in force in order to capture and destroy them. The innocents of the city will need a place to flee for safety.”
Lord Ingram smiled. “As you know, my own forces are here as well. I would be quite proud to lend my men to the effort. They will help ensure that the conflict does not breach these walls.”
Her father nodded. “That would be greatly appreciated. I am afraid that the fighting will ravage those who have no other protection. The butchers. The shop-keeps and flower sellers. All the innocents who surround us.”
Lord Ingram waved over a servant who stood quietly in the corner. “You, boy, go to the front gate. Tell my forces to come in and begin their operation.”
Hillie gave a soft growl.
Lord Ingram drew to standing. “Well, that seems to be about it. I will keep a close eye on King John, to ensure we know the moment he receives the official annulment from Pope Innocent III. Until then, it is best we draw in what power we can. Prepare for the hell-fires which will rain down on our tower. But I swear to you, with my forces at the core of this grand keep, we shall not fall. We shall endure and triumph.”
A chorus of assents echoed in the hall.
The men rose and strode out, talking of arrow stocks and watch schedules. In a moment Isabel sat alone in the empty hall, Hillie looking up at her with those large eyes.
He gave a low whine and carefully pushed himself up to his feet.
Isabel pushed away her thoughts of politics and put a hand fondly to his head. “You poor thing. You do not know about kings and nobles. You have more simple needs. You haven’t gone out yet! No wonder you are unhappy.”
She stood, and he led the way out of the hall. There were more greetings along the way, but the tone of them had changed. There was an urgency to peoples’ movements. A seriousness to their gaze. Word was spreading throughout the castle that danger could soon be upon them.
They reached the courtyard and Hillie moved to a nearby tree to do his business. But to Isabel’s surprise he did not wander to the open grasses and snuffle for worms or bugs as had been his fond pastime. Instead he set out, slow and steady, for the opposite wall.
She smiled as she trailed behind him. Had he discovered new interests while she had gone? Was there a rook nest or perhaps a blind mole which had joined her world?
He walked … walked … and shuffled to a stop.
She looked up.
He had led her to the tower.
Chapter 23
A turmoil of emotions whirled within Isabel’s breast. Philip was in there. Philip who had lied to her about his true name, all those days. Philip who would staunchly support King John, even if it meant driving out her beloved father and all he had worked for.
Philip who had saved her life.
Hillie whined again and nudged his ancient head into the thick oak door.
Isabel pushed it open.
The guard at the foot of the stairs blinked in surprised delight. “Isabel! It is wonderful to have you back. Making the rounds of the keep, are you?”
She gave him a small smile. “Yes, indeed. It’s been so long that I wanted to look over every nook and cranny. It’s good to be home.”
“And we are thrilled to have you home again,” he smiled. “Enjoy your walk!”
Hillie was already slowly, cautiously, making his way up each step. She took in a deep breath and followed him.
Every step she took seemed slower than the previous, and Hillie vanished around the curve as she forced herself to keep moving. Her dog was waiting patiently for her as she finally reached the top, his eyes on that final door. The one with the small window with thick bars.
The guard smiled at her. “Ah, Isabel. Here for a talk with the prisoner? You always did have a kind heart.”
There was motion from within the room, and in a moment Philip’s eyes were at the window. They creased with weary relief. “Isabel. Thank God, you’re all right.”
Her world swirled with chaotic emotions at seeing him behind bars. Part of her riled with anger – and an equal part pleaded with her to throw open the door and fold into his arms. To hold him … hold him …
Her voice came out in a rough retort. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m home.”
His gaze flicked to the window overlooking the courtyard. “Lord Ingram’s men are swarming all over the walls. His captains are setting up processing stations in the main courtyard. Less than a day ago you thought he was the Devil himself and not to be trusted. What in the world is going on?”
Isabel hesitated –
Philip’s hands closed on the bars. “Please, Isabel. You can trust me. After all we’ve been through, surely you know that by now.”
The guard looked with interest between the two of them, clearly intrigued by the conversation.
Isabel flushed.
She turned to the guard. “Might we talk alone? Just for a few minutes?”
His eyes dropped in disappointment, but he nodded. “I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.” He made his way down the spiral staircase to his companion.
Isabel settled onto the wooden chair the guard had left. Hillie came to curl up at her side, his head lying on her foot. She dropped a hand automatically to his soft fur.
Philip’s gaze held hers with steadfast focus. “Isabel, I swear to you, I would never hurt you or your father. You must know that to be true.”
The sting of his betrayal still seared her heart. “And yet you lied to me.”
He let out a breath. “Oh, Isabel. The way you talked of Lord Bedemor was so full of fury and fire that I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what had been done in my name. So I could right that wrong. So that this mischance would not come between you and me. Because –”
His throat closed up and he looked down.
Isabel’s fingers twined into Hillie’s fur. She could barely put breath behind the question. “Because …?”
His fingers twined more tightly against the bars, turning white with the pressure. “Because I was coming to care for you, Izzie.”
Tight bands drew tight around Isabel’s chest. It was what she had longed to hear. What she had barely hoped could happen.
A desperate part of her mind reminded her that the man was behind bars for a reason. He was a puppet of King John. He had been planning to take over the Tower. To evict her beloved father and to help destroy every person who had believed in the Magna Carta.
Her father was still at risk.
It took all her strength to gather herself and close her heart behind bars of its own. To look Philip in the eye, not as the man she had fallen for, but as a threat to all she held most dear.
She stated, “You have said in the past that you are devoutly loyal to King John. Is that still the case? You will support him in all he does?”
Philip’s brow drew together as if confused by the question. “Yes. Absolutely. He is our King, consecrated by God.”
His eyes widened and he slowly began shaking his head. “No. No. Surely you cannot be telling me that your father has been seduced by Lord Ingram into plotting on the King’s life? And that is why you locked me away?” His voice rose. “That would be treason!” His fingers clenched on the bars while his voice seared with anguish. “God, Isabel, I could never support that. I could never even stand by while that was done. Is that why I am locked up here, so I am helpless while you assassinate our King?”
Isabel drove to her feet in fury. “God’s teeth, Philip! My father would never assassinate the King! To even say such a thing!”
The world hung -
Philip
blew out his breath in a long, shuddering stream. The tense line in his shoulders slowly eased and he lowered his forehead against the bars. “Thank God, Izzie. For if that line had come between us, I do not know what I would have done.”
She stepped toward him and gently laid her fingers over his.
He looked up at that, his dark eyes deep … so deep … and the world fell away.
Philip’s voice was rough. “Izzie, please trust me. Please tell me why you held such fury for Lord Bedemor.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “For me.”
She shook her head, lost in those eyes. “Not for you. Never for you.” She swallowed. “My anger was for the man who was going to cruelly out my father from the position he held so dear. Who was going to toss my beloved father onto a rubbish heap and destroy his life.” She pressed his fingers into his. “It made no sense. No sense at all. Why would you be brought in, when you knew nothing of the Tower? Why wouldn’t one of my father’s loyal captains be chosen? Men who knew this keep’s every angle and stone?” Her throat tightened. “Men who would have treasured my father and allowed him to stay on for his remaining days?”
She glanced down toward the courtyard, to where Lord Ingram’s men were scurrying and marching like an army of never-ending ants. “I couldn’t make any sense of it – until at last Lord Ingram explained it to me. And now I see it all clearly.”
Philip’s voice was laced with tension. “Isabel – this is important. What exactly did Lord Ingram say?”
Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs, and she spun in surprise, putting herself between the landing and the window behind her. Who would dare –
Lord Ingram’s face was flushed with fury as he stormed up the remaining steps, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes bore in on Isabel with the force of a raging storm.
“Isabel! How dare you! This man is a prisoner of the Tower. You are not to have any discourse with him.”
Hot fire seared out of Isabel. “How dare you! I am –”
He stabbed a finger. “You are a naïve child. This man is striving to destroy all you hold most dear! Foolish woman, are you letting him manipulate your emotions so easily?”