Lord of Secrets

by Gillgannon, Mary

  William stared at his cousin. The shameless bastard would never admit he was in the wrong, but continue to lie through his teeth. Deception came so easily to him. Falseness seemed to be in his nature.

  “Get out!”

  “Milord, I—”

  “Get out now!”

  Still wearing his expression of shocked hurt, Rollo gathered up his clothing and began to dress. His bedpartner did the same, although she had the decency to appear cowed and embarrassed. William watched them leave, his whole body rigid as stone. If he moved a muscle, he would lose control and grab Rollo and start pummeling his lying, scheming face into pulp. Once started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  He told himself a strong, competent leader did not act out of rage. Rollo must be punished, but in a way that did not besmirch William’s own honor. As for the girl, she needed dealing with in more subtle fashion. Maybe marrying her off to a strong man who could keep her under control would be the answer.

  But Rollo and Egelina could wait. First, he must restore order here at Higham. Then he must return to Wales and get his cattle back. It was time for a reckoning with this Cynan ap Ifan. Or his father, Ifan ap Emrys. Or whoever was behind the raids and other treachery. He must also find out how his wounded men fared and make certain they and Rhosyn were safe.

  Feeling weary and overwhelmed, he went to sit on the bed. He tested the mattress by lying down and stretching out. The bed was surprisingly comfortable. The rope supports cradled the straw-stuffed mattress, which was cushioned with a thick layer of sheepskins and covered with a lambswool blanket. All of it suspended on a solid, if plain, oaken bed frame. If Rollo had done nothing else, he had made certain the bed was finished, brought up here and made up in a fashion appropriate to a lord.

  The bed would be a delight to sleep on. Indeed, William wished he could try it right now. But there were a dozen things he must do first. He stood up and gazed at the huge piece of furniture. The bed would be wonderful to make love on. Eventually. When he got Rhosyn back here and they had a moment of leisure.

  He wondered how she was faring and if she’d been able to keep Gervaise alive. Curse it, he did not want another man’s death on his conscience. Henry, Gilbert and now Adam.

  He felt a sharp spasm of grief. Adam had been at his side for so many years. Poor Adam. Cut down so brutally. And so conveniently. With him out of the way, Rollo had been able to take charge and do whatever he wished. A dark thought chilled William. Was having Adam killed Rollo’s doing? His death was certainly fortunate for his cousin. Still, it seemed far-fetched.

  If Rollo wasn’t behind it, then someone else at Higham was the spy. They might have coordinated the raids, the attempt on William’s life and getting rid of Adam.

  The raids had started not long after they arrived at Higham. Which made it seem like it was too soon for Rollo to have a chance to be drawn into Roscales’s plans. The spy must be someone who was here when Roscales was lord and who remained after he left. Mayhaps someone in the village?

  He mulled over his early interactions with the villagers, trying to figure out who it could be, but recalled nothing suspicious. What about the people at the castle? Old Ulric in the stables? Preposterous. The cook, Elidon? He appeared to hate Roscales, and seemed to want to help William. But the whole thing with the herbs was strange. The village women knew what local wild plants could be used for seasoning, so why wouldn’t a trained cook? And the castle garden, while neglected, still had some mint, thyme and dill growing there. Why hadn’t Elidon thought to make use of them?

  He began to wonder. Had Roscales really taken all the salt, as Elidon said? Or, was that a ruse to get William to travel in search of salt and other supplies? Of course, he could have sent some other man and then the scheme to get him away from Higham wouldn’t have worked. But there were other things they needed—the furniture, tapestries, braziers for heating this winter. In stripping the castle, Roscales had set up a situation where either William left to buy these household goods or he sent a good-sized trading party to do so.

  Of course, that was likely only one of Roscales’s schemes to get William out of the way. His other plan had been to kill William outright. The raids to draw him out, then have an archer waiting. And he had made it so easy for the enemy, taking off his clothes to take a swim in the river. He was very fortunate he moved at the wrong moment and disrupted the archer’s aim. And that Rhosyn had the skills to heal him.

  Rhosyn, he so needed her. Needed her advice, her strength and support. But before he could go to her, there were many other things claiming his attention. Getting the mill rebuilt. Restoring order in the castle household. Getting the cattle back. Then he might finally be able to get Rhosyn, and Ralf, home safely. He cast one last longing look at the bed and then left the bedchamber.

  *

  “How can you do this to me, milord? I’ve served you well!” Baldwin swiped a hand through his auburn hair, looking distressed.

  “That’s exactly why I want you to act as castellan. I need a man here at Higham who I trust, and one who knows how to defend the demesne if it becomes necessary.”

  Baldwin stared back at him in dismay. William thought it odd how some men, like his cousin, were eager for power, while others sought to push it away.

  “Sit down.” William motioned to the bench across from his chair in the solar. It was late and Baldwin and he were both weary. Days of traveling, battles and then dealing with all this turmoil. “I know you’d rather come with me and fight the Welsh. But it does me no good if we succeed there and get our cattle back, and then I come back here to find the Welsh or Roscales have taken control of the castle.”

  Baldwin raised his gray-green gaze to meet William’s. “You really think Roscales would do something so stupid? He knows he has no legal right to command the castle.”

  “I don’t know if he would actually try to take the castle back. Or if his Welsh allies are witless enough to think they have a chance at holding a keep that has been under English control for decades. But ’tis clear someone wants to be rid of me, and to force everything here at Higham into disarray. I’ve spent hours dealing with all the mess from when I was away last time. Now I have to leave again, and I need someone in charge who has the skills to defend the keep and who I know can be counted on to carry out my orders.”

  William leaned forward and ticked things off on his fingers. “I’ve put Aldreth in charge of rebuilding the mill. Without Rollo to interfere, I have faith in the carpenter. And I’ve also spoken to Ned, our new miller. He understands how important it is to get the mill working again and he has more expertise in how it must be rebuilt than anyone else. As far as the castle household goes, I have put the widow Hawise from the village and Elspeth in charge, so you won’t have to worry about those details.”

  He met Baldwin’s gaze. “I’m certain it’s unsettling to have so much responsibility thrust upon you. I felt the same when we first arrived here. But I asked questions and sought out the opinions of people who have lived here for years. And then I made the best decisions I could, based on what I knew. You will do the same.”

  “But you’re taking Rollo.” Baldwin’s eyes were accusing. “You know he can’t be trusted, and yet you’re taking him with you.”

  “I have no choice. I can’t leave him here to cause more trouble.”

  Baldwin still looked skeptical. William realized he shared the knight’s doubts. But outside of locking Rollo up, there seemed no other way of dealing with him.

  William discussed a few more details with Baldwin. Then he went to the barracks to make the final arrangements to ride out the next day. Finally, he returned to the keep and sought his bedchamber. He stretched out on the new bed and for a few moments savored the comfort of it and then fell instantly asleep.

  It was cool and misty the next day when they set out, and they hadn’t gone far when it began to rain. William clenched his jaw in frustration. The plan had been to follow the path left by the cattle when the raiders drove th
em off. But if it rained too hard, it would wash away the hoof prints. Not to mention, the Welsh had a head start of several days.

  He glanced back at the over a dozen knights riding behind him, wondering if it was a large enough force. Against a raiding party, the odds would be more than even. But if they encountered a larger force of knights, they might be in trouble.

  After a few hours of riding, the countryside grew more rugged. They could see the blue-green mountains in the distance and the hills grew steeper. They followed the churned up path left by the cattle herd down into a valley thick with alder and elm. William’s senses went on high alert. This was exactly the sort of terrain that would be perfect for an ambush.

  He halted. Rob and Guymond drew beside him. “I don’t like this.” He gestured to the forest they would have to pass through. “For all we know, they stole the cattle hoping we would follow. We might be riding into a trap.”

  “What do we do?” Guymond asked.

  “Split up, and try to find way around. I’ll lead half of the men north. The two of you and the others take the southern route.” William turned his horse and rode back among his men, motioning to split the knights into two groups. As he saw Rollo, he hesitated. Despite wanting to keep him close, he was sick of the sight of his cousin. “Rollo, go with Guymond and Alan.”

  Summer was almost over. Berries were turning red and the brake fern glowed a burnished bronze on the hillsides. He saw plenty of flowers—loosestrife and goldenrod and the dark haze of purple heather. But some of the grass had turned a yellowish hue, reminding William that it was probably time to bring in the last haycrop. He wondered if Hearne would organize the scything.

  They climbed a steep rise. He’d hoped from this vantage point they could see the valley more clearly and maybe catch a glimpse of the cattle. But it was too misty and gray to make out much of anything. They descended on the other side and waited for the other knights to arrive.

  As time passed and there was no sign of them, William grew uneasy. His men were also tense. Their horses shifted and snorted. Finally, a group of riders appeared in the distance. They approached steadily. William felt relief, but it ebbed when he saw the expression on Guymond’s face. “Rollo is gone,” the knight announced as he rode up.

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean, he slipped away. One moment he was there, riding beside Alan. The next, he’d vanished. We spent some time looking for him. I worried a Welsh archer had got him. But when we rode back to where we’d last seen him, there was no sign of either him or his horse. Either he was abducted with great stealth, or…”

  “Or he took off on his own.” Part of William was glad to be rid of his sly, manipulative cousin. Let the Welsh deal with him. On the other hand, if the enemy sought to ransom Rollo, William would be forced into a difficult position. It would not look good if he abandoned one of his own men, even if the man was a faithless wretch.

  “What about the cattle? Did you see any sign of them?”

  “Nothing. But can’t tell if they’re down there among the trees.”

  All William’s instincts told him the cattle were in the valley. But how were they going to get them?

  Guymond was clearly thinking the same thing. “We could send a scout, tonight, after it gets dark. See if the cattle are there.”

  “Could be a challenge,” William said. “Difficult to be stealthier than the Welsh,”

  “They’re sneaky bastards, I’ll give you that.” Guymond’s tone was grim.

  “I’d do it,” said Crispin, who had drawn his horse up next to Guymond’s. “I’d welcome the chance. I’m tired of the Welsh getting the best of us. It’s time to try beating them at their own game.”

  William regarded the dark-haired, small, wiry knight thoughtfully. “You’re certain you want to do this?”

  Crispin grinned. “Why not? Better than us all going charging down there and having them pick us off one by one.”

  “Maybe that’s the way to retrieve the herd, too.” A plan was coming to William. “Let’s go find a place to make camp.”

  Hours later, with a half moon providing their only light, William and his knights gathered on a hill above the valley. Crispin and four other men wore no mail and carried no swords, just daggers and knives. They were garbed in dark clothing—shared from what everyone had brought with them, and their faces smeared with dirt. The rest of the knights were fully armed.

  William motioned to Crispin and his companions. “As soon as you encounter the Welsh, raise the alert. We’ll get down there as soon as we can.”

  “If we succeed, there will be little for the rest of you to do.” Crispin’s tone was boasting.

  William made his own voice stern. “Don’t try to take on too much. I don’t want any more men injured or killed.” He let his words sink in and then asked. “Are we ready?”

  There were “yeas” and other sounds of assent. Crispin and his group started down the hillside. William exhaled deeply. “Now we wait.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Time passed with excruciating slowness. They dared not talk, lest they miss the signal. Although it was a relatively cool night, William’s body felt clammy with sweat. He recalled other battles. Skirmishes in France. He needed to do what he had done then. Harness the energy and anxiety pulsing through him and use it when the time came for combat.

  A whistle pierced the night. The signal. “Let’s go,” he said. “Don’t take any risks with yourselves or your horses. The cattle are important, but not worth dying over.”

  They started down the steep trackway leading into the valley. The sense of being half-blind on the edge of the precipice was nerve-wracking. But the Welsh had taken this same route with the cattle, so it was not impossible.

  Glints of moonlight picked out silvery rocks and dark furze bushes on either side. There were so many places to hide. He’d assumed the whistle meant his men were in control and it was time to come get the herd. But what if it was a plea for aid instead?

  A shadow moved in front of him and William caught the glimpse of a shaggy head and dark jerkin. He remembered tales of the Welsh wounding horses so their riders would be thrown. “Watch your mounts!” he called to the men behind him. Trueheart sidled and shifted. William saw more movement near his horse. The battle-trained stallion lashed out. There was a cry as one of the stallion’s hooves connected.

  William did not stop to see how badly the enemy was injured but urged his mount onward. They were deep in the valley. He could hear the gentle melody of running water. A shallow stream loomed ahead. Thick churned up mud, marked by dozens of hooves, showed where the cattle had crossed the river. A cow lowed in the distance, reminding him of his goal.

  He rode into the stream. Trueheart splashed through water, which was only a few feet deep. The other men followed. On the other side the vegetation was thicker. Willow and alder bushes. The marshy ground was thick with reeds.

  A shadow moved nearby. “Fitzhugh!” someone called.

  William halted his horse and waited for the man to approach. “What news?”

  “I don’t know. I lost track of the others. Now we’re all spread out.” Jocelyn. William couldn’t see the knight but he recognized his voice.

  “Have you engaged with the enemy?”

  “Not yet. They’re in hiding, waiting to ambush us, no doubt.”

  “We have to get the cattle.”

  Jocelyn grunted in response. William felt a surge of frustration. The plan they’d so carefully worked out hadn’t succeeded. It looked as if they should have ridden into the valley in full armor during daylight and not made any attempt at surprise or secrecy. Now they were deep in the valley and the enemy had the advantage.

  William led his troop of knights forward, towards the sound of cattle. Two more of his men appeared on foot.

  “Anyone hurt?” William called out.

  “We don’t know for certain,” answered a man who sounded like Alan. “The Welsh are wily. The first man we enco
untered shouted some sort of warning. Then they all seemed to disappear.”

  They would probably reappear when he and his men were the most vulnerable, William thought grimly. They’d finally found the cattle, resting in an open area directly ahead. Since they were all black or dark brown, they were very difficult to see.

  To his men, he called, “Spread out and try to drive the cattle towards the trackway. Then we’ll have to get them back over the river.”

  “I’m here.” Guymond appeared at William’s stirrup.

  “We’re going to try to herd the cattle back towards the trackway. If they stampede it may get dangerous for anyone on foot.”

  Guymond nodded.

  The cattle were settled in for the night and didn’t want to move. It took much shouting by the men on foot and herding with the horses to jolt the animals from their rest and get them on their feet. William realized he knew very little about herding animals. The Welsh were probably watching from a distance and finding their struggle very amusing.

  They finally got the herd going in the direction of the trackway. But they were bawling loudly. So loudly, it was difficult to hear anything else. William worried the Welsh could attack and none of them would know what was happening. But there was scarcely time to think about that. They had to keep weaving around the herd, trying to cut off stragglers. William wished desperately they had dogs to help them.

  Gradually they drove the cattle back to the stream. They seemed reluctant to cross. William shouted and waved his arms to scare them. The other men did the same. Some of his knights on foot appeared and also harassed the herd to get them moving.

  Somehow, they got most of them through the shallow river. William felt certain there were stragglers left behind, but he wasn’t going stop to pursue them. The next step was to get the animals up the steep hill. It seemed an impossible task at night.

  He rode around the herd, alerting his men that they were going to remain there for the remainder of the night. “We’ll drive them out of the valley tomorrow.”