“Cease your poisonous whispers,” the Hawk bade her, but Guinevere only chuckled.
“Call truth poison if you will, Hawk, but one has to consider whether you erred in choosing a bride.”
The Hawk spared her a glance that spoke clearly of his thoughts. “Be gone by the morrow, Guinevere. I have tolerated you in my hall overlong. You and your ‘sisters’ can find accommodation in the village from this night forward.”
The whore’s lips tightened with anger, but the Hawk had no care for her response. He turned and strode out to the bailey, intent upon finding his wife.
What folly did Aileen make? It was regrettable, to be sure, that they had parted poorly the night before, even more regrettable that her every choice fed his suspicions of her intentions. Sebastien and Ewen fell into step behind the Hawk, though they said nothing.
The Hawk had questions enough of his own. Was the Laird of Abernye in league with the MacLaren clan? The Urquhart holding had not been an affluent one, yet the new Lady Abernye clearly had a tendency to spend coin. How much would Abernye do to ensure the happiness of his new bride? Would he make an alliance with the MacLarens against the Hawk?
The timing of Abernye’s arrival was uncanny and made the Hawk restless—did the conspirators close their trap just when he was on the verge of his final triumph?
And how much did Aileen know of such a scheme?
The prisoner devoured the food Aileen had brought with unholy haste, then glanced up guiltily. He must have spied her horror afore she tried to hide it, for he smiled ruefully and dropped his gaze again. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but it has been two days since I ate.”
There was a pleasant roll to his speech, his vowels tinged with the fact that Gaelic was clearly his mother tongue. Aileen felt an immediate affinity with him, for she spoke the same way, as did all in her father’s hall.
Accents were many in her husband’s hall, and oft unfamiliar.
“They have not fed you in this dungeon?”
He shook his head and though she was outraged at this harsh treatment, he showed a surprising lack of bitterness. “I expected no less when I was seized,” he said, then summoned a smile for her. He drank the ale and sighed with contentment as he leaned back against the stone wall.
His eyes twinkled now and she felt the urge to return his smile. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, my lady. I am much restored.”
“You are welcome.” Aileen hesitated, knowing that she should leave. But she would learn nothing if she did not prompt a conversation and she had not simply come to be charitable. “Even a spy is entitled to a meal afore his guilt is proven.”
The prisoner granted her a knowing glance. “Is that what they declare me to be?” Aileen nodded. He chuckled to himself, seemingly finding great amusement in this.
“Are you not one?”
His chuckles faded and he fixed her with a suspicious glance. “Were you sent by the Hawk to coax my secrets from me?”
“No, he does not know I am here,” Aileen said hastily, then regretted confiding so much information. “I came because it is the role of the lady of the keep to show compassion for prisoners and ensure that they have decent care. Were you injured, before your capture or since?”
The prisoner studied her with new curiosity. “The lady of the keep?”
“Indeed. I am Lady of Inverfyre.”
The man’s eyes widened. “The Hawk has wed?”
Aileen smiled. “Clearly. I am not of an age to be his mother.”
The prisoner did not smile at her jest. He rubbed his chin, his gaze flicking over the cell. “That is portentous news.” His bright gaze landed upon her so suddenly that Aileen nearly jumped. “Do you carry the fruit of his seed?”
Aileen straightened and stepped back, feeling her color rise as she did so. Nissa gasped outrage at his audacity. “You have no right to ask a lady such a question!”
“Though the answer would be most intriguing,” he murmured. He cleared his throat and smiled so abruptly that Aileen almost wondered whether she had imagined the comment and his sly manner. “I suppose your beloved spouse has regaled you with his scheme to reclaim all of his birthright, sworn that all of Inverfyre is his legacy, and vowed that the MacLaren clan must be ousted from his lands.”
Aileen smiled, letting the man think what he would.
“It is not a mere tale…” Nissa began, but Aileen put a hand upon her arm to silence her.
The prisoner granted the maid a hot glance. “Aye, it is the simple folk who believe such foolery.”
Nissa inhaled sharply, taking umbrage at his comment, but Aileen tightened her grip upon the girl’s arm. “There is oft a rift between the truth and the tale that all hears,” she said in a conciliatory tone.
“There is indeed! I suppose the Hawk has told you of his own heroic deeds and his noble destiny,” the prisoner snorted, showing some anger now. “What man would not wish to so impress such a pretty bride?” He spat into the rushes in the corner. “I suppose he told you that the MacLarens are no better than vermin, and that it is his duty to rid this fair land, his rightful domain, of their pestilence.”
Aileen kept her expression carefully composed. “You would not happen to be of the MacLaren clan?”
His gaze was sharp. “What do you think?”
Aileen shrugged.
The man lifted his chin, and his eyes glinted in his anger. “No doubt your fine spouse omitted many details from his tale. There are two sides to every story, of that you can be certain.”
“My mother oft said as much,” Aileen agreed. “Tell me your side.”
“Did he did tell you how he and his men arrived here eighteen years past and proceeded to slaughter our kin for no reason than his own greed for our land?”
“But I thought Inverfyre to be his legacy?”
“And whence does sovereignty begin, my lady?” The prisoner rattled his chains. “Answer me this, my lady—who held these lands when Magnus Armstrong came, just as the Hawk came, and claimed them for his own?”
“I do not know. Perhaps Inverfyre was mere wilderness.”
He snorted with vigor. “They were MacLaren lands, stolen once and now stolen again.”
“I do not think so!” Nissa protested.
“Believe what you must, peasant, but I know the truth of it. Righteousness rides with the MacLaren clan—why else do we hold the original site of Inverfyre? Why else does the chapel itself remain in our hands, if not for God’s favor of our cause? I know who is thief and who is rightful owner, even if the Hawk would tempt his lady’s ardor with fulsome lies.”
“What did you hope to achieve by coming here?” Aileen asked softly. “I doubt there are weaknesses in these stout walls.”
He regarded her for such a long interval that Aileen did not think he would speak again. His implication was clear to her—the weaknesses of the Hawk’s keep would be found within its walls, in people who would betray their lord.
She held his gaze, knowing he believed wrongly in this. Never had she seen such loyalty granted to a lord by his men as she had witnessed here, and Aileen knew it was because the Hawk was fair. Instinctively, she trusted him and believed in his cause.
What if this man planned some treachery? What if she could uncover the truth of it?
Surely that feat would encourage the Hawk to trust her?
What if she could persuade him that she was the weak link?
“Even if your cause is righteous, you can achieve nothing in this cell,” she said with apparent idleness. “It would seem your efforts were a waste.”
The prisoner glanced around the dungeon again, then to his shackles. “Especially as I am to be executed on the morrow.”
Aileen caught her breath, having known no such thing.
He watched her assessingly. “You did not know.”
Aileen shook her head, not disguising her horror. “Executed!” Surely he was mistaken. Surely the Hawk would not pronounce a fate so cruel.
But she suspected that the Hawk would do so, if he believed this man to be a threat to Inverfyre’s security. He had told her time and again that he took no risks with the lives of those beneath his hand.
The prisoner reached out and caught Aileen’s hand in his own. She jumped, but forced herself to leave her fingers in his grip. “I never guessed that he could be so cruel,” she whispered, feigning dismay.
The prisoner’s eyes narrowed. “It is not every noblewoman who would have made her way to this cell.”
Aileen smiled sadly. “Then, the world has come to a sorry crossroads indeed.”
His grip tightened upon her hand. “I suspect that you are one much enamored of justice.”
“We would be as brute beasts without it,” Aileen agreed.
The prisoner looked at Nissa pointedly.
“Nissa, go to the portal and call for Reinhard, if you will,” Aileen advised, guessing that the prisoner wished to confide in her alone.
“But, my lady…”
“Do as I bid you, Nissa, and do it immediately.”
The girl rose with reluctance and crossed to the door.
The prisoner leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “For the sake of justice, I would beg a favor from you.”
“A dangerous favor,” she guessed.
“My kin will welcome you and see to your future, whatever happens, if you aid their cause. You risk naught in this endeavor.”
“Reinhard!” Nissa called and shook the portal in her anxiety.
Aileen felt her eyes narrow even as she whispered. “In what endeavor?”
“If the Hawk rides out from Inverfyre, my kin must be warned. Our sole hope of survival is if we are forewarned and survive until the king responds to our summons for his aid. My task here was to alert my kin if the Hawk rode out, regardless of the hour.” He glanced up at Nissa. “I was caught, but I have heard whispers from within this cell that the Hawk plans a final assault soon.”
“Reinhard! Make haste!” Nissa shouted, for Reinhard did not come.
“Should the king not decide whose claim to sovereignty is the most compelling?” the prisoner demanded, his eyes flashing. “Do you, a woman enamored of justice, deny the righteousness of this? We will stand by the decision of the king, but we will not willingly be slaughtered for the sake of a foreigner’s ambitions. If the Hawk kills us, though, the king will hear no protest.”
Aileen dropped her gaze to his grip upon her hand. He was lying and she knew it well. If the MacLaren clan truly had cause to dispute the Hawk’s claim, they would have appealed to the king sooner—the Hawk had been at Inverfyre for eighteen years.
The prisoner lied, but he must not know that she knew as much.
Aileen nodded carefully. “It is not easy to betray one’s husband,” she said, her voice low. “But you speak aright when you argue for justice. This decision lies with the king alone.” She looked up and met his gaze. “Tell me how I might aid your mission.”
His smile was immediate and bright. “Yours is a valiant heart!”
“Reinhard, hasten yourself!” Nissa cried.
The prisoner whispered in haste. “Three flaming arrows, fired high in quick succession, will serve as the warning.” He looked about himself, despondent to be acknowledging his failure. “They snared me while I slept. They took my quiver and bow, they broke my arrows.” He closed his eyes. “They laughed when they destroyed what was precious to me.”
Aileen’s heart clenched, for she felt a kinship with him over this destruction. A tear spilled from his lashes and he steadfastly looked away in his shame. “We may be impoverished,” he said, his voice husky. “We may be weakened, we may be hungry, but our cause is righteous. Do we not still avenge our kinswoman?”
Aileen did not understand this last comment but she nodded anyway. “Indeed, you are a most steadfast clan.”
The key tumbled the locks.
“Pray for me, my lady,” the prisoner whispered, his words nigh swallowed by the creak of the opening door. Aileen felt her own compassion rise. She spun to greet Reinhard, but her words froze on her lips.
The Hawk stood in the portal, Nissa behind him. His expression was impassive but Aileen felt the anger that emanated from him. His gaze flicked from her to the prisoner, though he made no comment upon her presence here.
Indeed, he offered his hand to her, as courteously as if he had found her at her spinning. “Your father has arrived, my lady, and awaits your greeting.”
XI
What had Aileen been doing in the dungeon? What secrets had she and the prisoner been sharing? The Hawk’s heart thumped with uncertainty but he dared not grant voice to his doubts. She could abandon him too readily in this moment, and his instincts told him that he would regret her departure.
He silently escorted Aileen from the dark dungeon and across the bailey, while Nissa hastened ahead of them. The shadows were drawing long, the sky painted bright with the last banners of the setting sun. He held the portal so that she could proceed him into the corridor that led to the hall, his innards writhing with doubts all the while.
“Must he die?” she asked quietly when he matched his pace to hers.
“At some point,” the Hawk said, no mercy in his tone. The threat of death was the sole chance of gaining some truth from this spy, though the Hawk doubted even that would be effective. He had no intent of releasing him to share details of the keep with the MacLarens. He took a deep breath, not wanting to trouble Aileen with such details. “It is for the best.”
“Whose best?” she demanded sharply. “Surely, it cannot be the best fate for him?”
“Death or torture are the two choices for coaxing the truth from a spy. He will not speak, and I will not tolerate torture in my hall. There is no other choice.”
“You could release him.”
“And find my hall set to fire beneath me the next night,” the Hawk said grimly. “I owe better to my vassals, Aileen, and I owe better to you.” He granted her a sharp glance. “What did he tell you?”
“Little.”
“You lingered long for no reason, then.”
She granted him a cool glance that he could not interpret. “He was anxious to ensure that I understood you to be the thief of Inverfyre, not his own people. I could hardly argue your cause, as you have not confided it in me.”
Her implied accusation pushed his temper too far. He halted to face her, knowing that his words thrummed with anger. “You wish to know my side of the tale, is this the meat of it? You wish to decide for yourself whether I am innocent or guilty of the charges a spy has wrought against me?”
“I did not say I believed him…”
“I shall tell you of the MacLaren clan and their deeds,” he interrupted, not interested in her appeasement. “You have seen their tower from your chamber window, no doubt. That tower is built upon the original site of Inverfyre, upon the burned ruins of the old keep which was built by my forebear Magnus Armstrong. The MacLarens tried to steal Inverfyre from my mother, they tried to kill me within her womb so that there would never be another Armstrong to challenge them. They tried to kill her, to ensure she could never bear fruit again, for the same reason.”
She tried to say something but the Hawk shook a finger at her, not prepared for an interruption. “And when these devious schemes failed, they assaulted the family keep during my parents’ nuptials, when all were gathered for the celebration, and razed it to the ground. Hundreds of innocent vassals died, either cut down by bloodthirsty warriors or left to be burned alive when the gates were locked against them. This was the work of the MacLarens, and they perch upon their meager gain, like a dragon drooling over his stolen hoard.”
Aileen’s features were ashen. “That was when your mother fled, with you in her belly, and Tarsuinn took his wound defending her.”
The Hawk knew his anger showed and did not care. “For the sake of my survival, my mother left Inverfyre, the only home she had ever known, and traveled all the distance to Sicil
y. For her, I returned to rout the MacLarens, but like any pestilence, they are not so readily dismissed.”
“They must have built that tower, if the keep was destroyed.”
“And a sorry piece of construction it is. They linger there, harassing my borders, stealing from my couriers, putting spies in my hall whenever they can. They stop at naught, they have not a moral among them, and they breed like hares. No matter how many are killed, a dozen more appear to take their places.” He shoved a hand through his hair, his annoyance spent. “These are my neighbors, Aileen. These are the people who make accusations against me.”
She bit her lip and he hated that he could not guess her thoughts. “Did they kill the priest? What happened to Malcolm?”
“He was beset upon the road that passes the land they have claimed.” The Hawk fell silent, unwilling to continue the gruesome tale.
Aileen stepped forward and touched a fingertip to his arm. “Tell me,” she urged.
The Hawk held her gaze. “They tied his ankles beneath the saddle and his wrists to the pommel. We heard his cry for aid and rode out with all haste. They slit his throat, but not so fully that he died in that moment, then beat the steed so that it would run. We saw him galloping toward us, the blood flowing like a river.” The Hawk swallowed. “He died shortly after we brought him back here. There was nothing we could do, for he had bled much and his wounds were grievous.”
She caught her breath and looked away. “Was he not accompanied?”
“We found his three squires left dead by the road.”
“A priest,” she whispered unevenly and crossed herself. “They are barbarians!”
He nodded but once, his agreement heartfelt.
“And this is why you will summon no priest to Inverfyre.”
“As yet.”
She lifted her gaze to his, her own expression shrewd. “But you let me believe it your fault that the priest died.”
“It was my fault!” The Hawk flung out his hand. “I should have ridden to Stirling to accompany him. I should have guessed what fate awaited him. I, better than anyone, should have known the blackness of their hearts.”
Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances Page 84