Dragon's Lair

by Sharon Kay Penman

  "How good is her Flemish?" Justin asked, and Molly grinned, too.

  "It is her mother tongue," she said triumphantly. "Her grandfather was one of the Flemings that the first King Henry settled in South Wales. Barbele still has kin down in Pembrokeshire, but she grew up here in Chester. So... shall we ask her to bedazzle this stubborn sailor of yours?"

  "I'd be much beholden to you, Molly," he said, and she winked as Bennet pushed away from the table and got to his feet.

  "I'd best find a man to ride to Wich Malbank and spoil Piers's week. I am also going to put the word about that Piers will pay to find out who burned his warehouse, and pay well. With luck, we might learn who was the true target last night. No offense, Justin, but I hope it is you and not me!"

  "You took the words right out of my mouth," Justin said and they both laughed.

  Molly was not amused. "If you two do not mind, I'd rather not jest about which one of you was supposed to be turned into kindling last night!"

  "You are not usually so squeamish, Moll," Bennet teased, leaning over to give her a hug. "I'd say we were both lucky beyond belief, Justin. Where were you, anyway? Why did you not go back to the warehouse?"

  Justin hesitated, not wanting to lie to Bennet but not wanting to tell him the truth, either. Bennet had always been quick; he glanced from Justin to Molly and then to the rumpled, unmade bed. "Well," he drawled, "you did not waste any time, did you, old friend?"

  Justin could not blame Bennet, for he was sure that if he'd had a sister, he would be protective of her, too. That did make it difficult, though, to offer a defense. Fortunately for him, Molly was more than up to the task.

  "What, you think he seduced me? Do not be stupid, Bennet. I may not have many choices in this life, but I damned well pick my own bedmates!"

  ~*~

  Just had once been told by a Norwegian trader that when they'd still worshipped the old gods, men believed that one who was slain in battle would be welcomed into Valhala or Paradise by beautiful, flaxen-haired maidens, the daughters of Odin. It was a pagan superstition of course, but he could see how it might appeal to men facing death, and it had lingered in his memory. When he first saw Molly's friend, Barbele, he remembered, for she was almost as tall as he was, big-boned with a plenitude of womanly curves, a mass of hair the color of honey, a lusty laugh, and a surprisingly carefree disposition for a woman who made her living in one of the most precarious of professions.

  "Is that all you need done?" she asked blithely, waving her hand as if it were already accomplished. Justin described Rutger to her and told her where she could find him at the alehouse where Baltazar had said he'd been passing all his days in port. She was so confident of her powers to charm that she waved aside Justin's offer of partial payment, saying she was content to wait until she'd gotten him the information he needed, adding playfully that she was not usually so trusting of men, but if Molly trusted him enough to take him into her bed, that was good enough for her.

  They left her standing in the doorway of the bawdy house and continued down Cuppinges Lane. This was one of the more sinful streets of the city, and it amused Justin that it was in such close proximity to St Mary's nunnery. If the good sisters thought Molly was an unseemly neighbor, he wondered how they dealt with the bawdy house whores. "So how did she know we'd lain together he asked. "You introduced me only as a childhood friend."

  "Women always know." Slipping her arm through his, she turned to wave a final farewell to Barbele. "Let's stop at the cook shop, Justin, ere we go home. I do not think either one of us has eaten since yesterday eve, and I am for certes not in the mood to cook. Ah, wait, I forgot - we have the food that the neighbors brought. Unless we have to give it back now that Bennet is not dead!" She giggled at that, sounding like the Molly of memory, and he felt a vast, sweeping relief that she'd been spared more grief.

  "I am still not sure I ought to go back to the cottage with you," he began, and she reached up to lay her fingers against his lips.

  "Hush, now, we've already settled that. I truly would feel safer with you than if I slept alone tonight. And Bennet said he was going to put men to guarding all of Piers's properties till he gets back from Wich Malbank, and that includes the cottage. I doubt that there is a need for all that, but Bennet does love to spend Piers's money. For that matter, so do I!"

  Justin knew he was making a mistake, but he could not help himself. "Have you given any thought, Molly, to what you'd do if you did not have Piers to keep you in such comfort? There must be other means to earn a livelihood -"

  "Name three," she challenged. "Unless you want me to earn my bread on my back the way Barbele does, I'd say I'm doing right well for myself these days."

  Justin was not ready to concede defeat. "But surely Bennet makes enough for the both of you with all he does for Piers?"

  "I make more," she said matter-of-factly. "Ah, Justin, you are talking of plans and prospects as if such things were ever within my grasp. If I've learned nothing else in this life, it is that to plan for the morrow is folly, especially for the likes of Bennet and me. Now you... it may be different for you. It does sound as if you've risen in the world since we last met, lover. For example, you said that you 'answer to the Earl of Chester,' but I got the sense that this was temporary. Who do you answer to the rest of the time?"

  "You would not believe me, lass, if I told you."

  She gave him a pensive, speculative look that promised further interrogation. But before she could persevere, Justin heard his name called out behind him. "De Quincy!" He swung around, pulling Molly with him, to see Thomas de Caldecott striding to ward them.

  Thomas was smiling. "This is better luck than I expected for I've been searching the town for you. The earl wants to know when we'll be returning to Wales." His eyes had already moved from Justin to Molly, subjecting her to an appraisal that was so openly admiring it evaded giving offense. "Are you not going to introduce me to your lovely lady, Justin? I understand now why we've seen so little of you at the castle!"

  "Mistress Molly, may I present Sir Thomas de Caldecott?" Justin said, hoping he did not sound as trapped as he felt, and Thomas at once shifted into his courtier mode, kissing Molly's hand with a gallant flourish. Justin took some solace from Molly's composure. Unlike so many of the women he'd seen exposed to Thomas's practiced charm, she did not appear to be in immediate danger of succumbing to the knight's seductive smile and beguiling blue eyes.

  Thomas turned his attention back to Justin then, saying candidly, "Look, about our earlier dispute, I want to offer my apologies. I ought not to have flared up like that. But you made me look foolish in the earl's eyes, and I have my fair share of vanity. I hope you are not one for holding grudges?"

  "No, Thomas, I am not."

  "Glad I am to hear it. Well, I'll not intrude further upon your time with the fair Molly. What should I tell the earl about your plans?"

  "Tell him," Justin said, "that I expect to be done in Chester by week's end," and Thomas bent over Molly's hand again. But as he started to turn away, Justin suddenly remembered something that the knight had shared during their ride into Wales.

  "Thomas!" The other man glanced over his shoulder, a quizzical smile upon his face that disappeared with Justin's next words. "I was curious about something. I envy you your gift for languages. I was wondering if you'd ever learned any Flemish?"

  Thomas's smile came back. "No, I cannot say that I have," he said, sounding faintly puzzled by the question. "Well... a pleasure, Mistress Molly. Justin, I'll see you at the castle, and I'll tell the earl that we'll be departing soon."

  They stood watching as Thomas sauntered off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Molly said, "That one fancies himself too much for my taste. Why did you ask if he spoke Flemish?"

  "I know little about the outlaw leader, only that he spoke both Welsh and Flemish. Thomas is quite fluent in Welsh, and I remembered his telling me that his mother was raised in Pembrokeshire."

  "Ah, I see. But by asking him str
aight out, did you not risk putting him on the alert?"

  "I hope so," he said, and she frowned.

  "What are you doing, setting a trap with you as the bait?"

  "I'd not go that far. I have no proof that Thomas is involved in any of this, just random suspicions. I might well be wronging him," Justin admitted. "Only time will tell."

  "And so you think to get your proof by letting him know you are putting all the pieces together. That is well and good if he is innocent. But if he is indeed guilty, you could end up with your throat cut!"

  "Have you so little confidence in my skill with a sword?" he joked, but Molly found no humor in his predicament.

  "Sometimes I think men do not have the sense God gave to sheep," she said, with an aggrieved toss of her head. "We'll let that be for now, though. I'd much rather talk about what he called you... de Quincy."

  Justin had known it was foolish to hope she'd missed that; Molly missed very little. "What? I think you misheard."

  "The Devil I did. I have to admit that I was taken aback, too. I thought that was a secret buried too deep to be dug up."

  Justin stared at her in astonishment. "You knew?"

  "Well, not for certes," she said, sounding rather pleased with herself. "I had my suspicions though."

  Justin was incredulous. "Why?"

  "Because he was good to you, Justin. Did you never wonder why?"

  "I knew why. I was an orphan with none to look after me, and he took me in as an act of Christian charity."

  "He was a priest, not a saint," she scoffed. "Not to let you starve to death - that is both commendable and believable. But he went beyond that, Justin. He brought you with him from Shrewsbury when he was made Chester's archdeacon. He did more than make sure you were fed and clothed. He saw to it that you were educated, that you had the schooling few foundlings ever get. For a time, I thought that you might be the bastard get of a kinsman of his. The only other explanation I could think of was that he was one of those with a liking for boys, and -"

  "Jesus God, Molly!"

  Justin sounded so repulsed that she suppressed a smile. "I did not believe it! Word gets around when a man has a vice like that, and I never heard even a whisper that the bishop was depraved in that manner. Moreover, I could tell that you were not being mistreated, for you'd not have been able to hide that from us. But I knew there was more to this than your 'Christian charity.' And then, when the bishop placed you in Lord Fitz Alan's household like that, I realized there was only one possible answer. You were his son."

  "But you never said, you never even hinted -"

  "Why would I? It was plain that you had no suspicions of your own, so what would it have served to share mine? I did not think it even mattered that much, for I was sure it would never come out. That is why I am so astounded by this. I would have wagered any sum that he'd never tell you, much less acknowledge you!"

  "He did not," Justin said bleakly. "I found out on my own and when I confronted him, he finally admitted it. And he has never acknowledged me, Molly, nor will he."

  "But you use his name," she protested. "Are you saying you just... took it?" When he nodded, she whistled softly. "My heavens! That was very brave of you, Justin, or very foolhardy, mayhap both."

  He could hardly explain that England's queen had given him the courage to claim the de Quincy name. "Does Bennet know…?" Relieved when she shook her head, he said, "I'd rather you said nothing of this to him, Molly. I know it is unfair to ask you to keep secrets from him, but -"

  She interrupted with laughter. "We keep secrets from each other all the time, Justin. How else do we get along so well? You need not worry. I'll keep quiet for your sake... and for the bishop's."

  That was the last thing Justin had expected her to say. "For his sake?"

  He sounded so confounded that she gave him a surprised look. "Yes, for his sake, too. He tried to do right by you, lover, as much he was able. There are far worse fathers in this world than one who cannot acknowledge you as his," she said quietly, and Justin could not argue with that.

  Molly's revelation had brought them both to a halt. Now she tugged at his arm, saying, "Come, let's go home." They walked without speaking for several moments. From time to time, Molly glanced over at him, her eyes narrowed in thought. "So once Barbele gets you the information you need, you'll go back to Wales, to the court of this Welsh prince?" When he nodded, she said, "And you'll go with this Thomas de Caldecott, even knowing that he might have an excellent reason to wish you dead." It was not a question for she already knew the answer, and they continued on toward her cottage in silence.

  Chapter 12

  August 1193

  Chester, England

  AS JUSTIN AND MOLLY ENTERED THE TAVERN, BENNET looked up in surprise. "Rather early in the day for the two of you, is it not? Now these poor sots..." With a genial wave of his hand toward the handful of regular customers. "If I did not chase them out at night, they'd never see the light of day, happily living out their lives here. But I've never seen you come by at this hour, Moll. Justin leading you astray?"

  Justin hoped he was joking. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Bennet. "Barbele sent me word this morn that we should meet her here at midday. With luck, this may mean she has news for us about Rutger."

  Bennet made no further comment, but once they were seated, he joined them with a flagon and several cups. "The sheriff paid me a call this morn," he said. "He was trying manfully to bear up under his disappointment, but I fear my resurrection is a hard morsel for him to swallow. I suspect he did not believe me even after I'd sworn upon our sainted father's soul that I knew nothing about the fire."

  Molly's mouth thinned and she muttered "hellspawn" under her breath, but Justin was not sure if it was meant for her "sainted father" or the Chester sheriff or perhaps both. Before she could clarify, she saw someone passing by the open door of the tavern and jumped to her feet. "Beatrix, wait! I need a word with you." Flinging an "I'll be back" over her shoulder, she hastened out into the street.

  This was the first time that the men had been alone since Bennet had learned why Justin had not been in the warehouse that night, and the silence that followed was not a comfortable one. Justin raised his cup, set the wine down untasted, and finally said, although he knew how hollow the words would sound, "Bennet, I'd cut off my arm ere I'd ever hurt Molly…"

  Bennet gave a noncommittal grunt. "Well, that was not the body part I had in mind for you to forfeit." But then he smiled. "Ah, Hell and damnation, Justin, I cannot pretend it did not take me aback. Once I thought about it, though, I decided that Moll could have done much worse... and has," he added, and Justin knew the same man was in both their minds: the notorious vintner, Piers Fitz Turold. "Just remember that if any hearts get broken, it damned well better be yours!"

  They clinked their cups together mutually relieved to have this moment over and done with, and after that, they kept their conversation on familiar ground, trading amiable insults until Molly returned. She'd no sooner reclaimed her seat than the door opened again this time admitting Barbele, trailed by an obviously nervous Rutger. He looked as if he might bolt at any time, but Barbele was having none of that. Ignoring his skittishness, she linked her arm in his and steered him across the room toward their table.

  "I have fetched for you this sweet man," she announced, "so he may tell you what he knows." Settling onto the bench, she drew Rutger down beside her and promptly took control of the conversation. "Rutger is sore afraid for his cousin Karl. But he does not want to get Karl into trouble with the law."

  "Tell him," Justin said, "that I have no interest in punishing Karl or the others. I want only to find the stolen money and the man who convinced them to take part in the robbery. From what I know, I do not think Karl realized what he was getting himself into."

  Barbele at once unleashed a torrent of words upon Rutger, gesturing with animation. England had been a bilingual land for more than a hundred years. Molly and Bennet spoke both English and French
, and Justin could make himself understood in three languages, while able to read Latin, too. But Flemish was an utter mystery to him, and for all of Barbele's goodwill, he wished he did not have to rely so completely upon this bossy, blonde stranger.

  "Rutger says he does not know very much, but he will tell you what he can. He says their family would be shamed if this becomes known. He is coming to think, though, that not ever knowing Karl's fate might be worse. He wants you to understand that Karl is not a bad man, merely a young and foolish one. He is sure that Karl and Geertje were talked into it by that malcontent Joder. Joder was ever one for dreaming big dreams, and Karl... he has a wife and baby to provide for back in Ypres." So thoroughly had Barbele thrown herself into her role that she now twitched her shoulders in unconscious imitation of Rutger's mournful shrug.

  After another rapid exchange between the two, Barbele resumed Rutger's story. "Karl told him that Joder knew a lord who wanted them to do a robbery. They'd be stealing from foreigners and it was supposed to be right easy. No one need get hurt and they'd make much money, more than Karl could ever earn at sea."

  "Did Karl ever mention a name? Did he say where they met this... this lord?"

  Again, Barbele conferred with Rutger. "No, he never said any names. He thought the man was a lord because he wore a sword and was comfortable giving orders, like a ship's master. He does not know how Joder and the lord knew each other. They met with the lord at the alehouse, the one where you first saw him. He has been going back there every day, hoping he might hear something, hoping Karl might walk in of a sudden."

  Barbele stopped, and Justin saw that tears had begun to well in Rutger's eyes. "He says he does not want you to think badly of him, but he did not know what else to do. He'd tried to make Karl see this was madness, he says he truly did."

  "Is there anything else he can remember Karl saying about the man who hired them? Anything at all?"