Part 10 (1/2)
”The ring he gave you as a pledge of his troth.”
Nicolaa caught sharply at her breath. ”Onfroi? ”Onfroi? That miserable circlet of gold he gave me-?” That miserable circlet of gold he gave me-?”
”The ring ring, Nicolaa,” Wardieu interrupted ominously. ”The one worn by the rightful heir of the Wardieu estates.”
”Lucien,” she gasped. ”Are you mad? What are you talking about?”
Wardieu held his rage in check with an effort, but even as he had voiced the accusation, he had known he was grasping at the wind. Such subtleties were not in keeping with Nicolaa's methods. If she had kept something as damaging as the ring all these years, she would have produced it and used it long before now to bend him to her will.
”I am talking about this,” he said quietly and uncurled the fingers of his fist.
Wary of the threat of violence in his every look and gesture, Nicolaa slowly tore her gaze from his and focused on the ring that lay cradled in his broad palm. The gold sparkled dully and the ruby eye winked in the moonlight, but at first glance, she could see nothing unusual in the design. Dragons, serpents, lions, and other menacing grotesques were commonly worked into rings, crests, and armourial bearings. The craftsmans.h.i.+p in this particular ring was exceptionally good; the beast appeared to be on the verge of a strike, with the scaled jaws gaping and the forked tongue poised to spit flame.
Nicolaa's heart missed a beat.
She s.n.a.t.c.hed the ring out of Wardieu's hand and held it up so that the light from the campfires would augment the glow from the moon and stars.
”G.o.d spare me,” she whispered.
”G.o.d spare us both if you had no hand in this,” he said tautly.
”Me?” She looked up, shocked. ”You think I ... !” She looked up, shocked. ”You think I ... !”
”If not you, Nicolaa, then who else?”
Her eyes grew rounder, wilder. ”No! No, it could not be! There must be some mistake!”
”Look at the ring, Nicolaa. There is no mistake.”
”A duplicate! It must be a duplicate!”
”Look at the ring, Nicolaa. There is no mistake.”
She did not have to obey the command in the ice-blue eyes to know there would be a jagged point of gold marking where the tip of one of the dragon's ears had been broken off.
”But”-she gripped his arm and her voice became shrill with panic-”it cannot be. How can you believe he survived? Mon Mon Dieu-all these years. He has been dead ... forgotten! All these years!” Dieu-all these years. He has been dead ... forgotten! All these years!”
Wardieu's fingers pinched her arm cruelly as he led her farther away from the curious eyes and ears of the camp. ”Lower your voice, d.a.m.n you. We have enough problems as it is without drawing a host of others down upon our heads.”
She halted, dragging back on his arm. ”A jest,” she cried. ”As you suggested, it must be someone's foul, bloodless idea of a jest!”
”Who else knows enough of the truth to make such a jest?” Wardieu took the ring out of her hand and thrust it up beneath her nose. ”Bayard was the only other one-apart from Lackland-who knew more than he should ... and Bayard is dead! Killed by someone he recognized; someone who, according to De Chesnai, caused Northumbria to act as if he had seen a ghost!” caused Northumbria to act as if he had seen a ghost!”
Nicolaa's heart suffered another choking setback. ”But you brought him down yourself! You said you saw him die!” You said you saw him die!”
”I said there was no man on earth who could survive such wounds. I did not not say I stood there and watched him die. He was my say I stood there and watched him die. He was my brother! brother! I struck him down, I left him broken and bleeding on that h.e.l.l of a desert. I could not stand over him and wait for him to die!” I struck him down, I left him broken and bleeding on that h.e.l.l of a desert. I could not stand over him and wait for him to die!”
”And for your compa.s.sion,” she spat, ”he has now come back to take his revenge. G.o.d's blood, he must be insane with hatred. But why has he waited so long? Why has he not come forward before now? And why this elaborate ruse as the Black Wolf of Lincoln?”
Wardieu's fist closed around the ring again. ”He wants me to know he is there, waiting. Watching. He wants me to jump at every shadow, sweat over every morsel of food, challenge every new face I see. The Black Wolf: how appropriate. I should have guessed it right away. The wolf hunting the dragon hunting the wolf.”
”What will you do?” she asked, hugging her arms through a sudden chill.
”Do, Nicolaa? Why, I will do what I must do, of course. Come morning, I will dispatch a party back to the keep to collect the ransom.”
”You intend to pay his outrageous demands?”
”I cannot see where I have any other choice,” he mused, smiling tightly. ”If I refuse to pay the ransom, he will take the greatest delight in sending the pieces of De Briscourt's widow to me in a series of tiny b.l.o.o.d.y sacks. When he does, whether it is the widow he slices or not, the news will travel the length and breadth of England like wildfire. Lackland will hear of it and panic. He will think at once that his own stupid schemes are at risk, and there will be bodies thrown from the parapet walls before he can be calmed enough to see reason.”
”Calmed? Lackland? I was told he frothed for a week when he found out you were planning the wedding so soon. He should turn into a ravening madman when he hears about this. Can you not find this ... this Black Wolf”- she hissed, unable to admit the spectre had another name- ”and kill him before the threat goes any farther?”
”Find him? In these woods?” Wardieu scanned the dense fringe of tall pines and sweeping oaks that blackened the horizon. ”You forget, he knows every footpath and deer track in this forest as if he were indeed a wolf and this his natural domain. My men could search for months and never come within bowshot. It was a game with him, almost since he was old enough to drag the weight of a sword behind him, to hide in the forest and defy Father's best gamekeepers and woodsmen to find him. Few ever did.”
”A pity you did not indulge in his games,” Nicolaa said dryly. ”Then you might have known one or two of his favourite lairs and spoiled whatever his gambit might be.”
”There is more than one way to trap a wolf,” Wardieu said evenly. ”And more than one kind of bait to use against a man's emotions.”
The second chill that trickled down Nicolaa's spine caused her to turn slowly and follow the direction of Wardieu's stony gaze. Silhouetted against the leaping orange flame of the main campfire were De Gournay's two squires, their heads bent forward as they dexterously cleaned and polished weapons that were already burnished to a mirror brightness. Rolf, the eldest by three years, had been fostered into Wardieu's care at the behest of a neighbouring baron who hoped his son could learn his skills at the feet of a master. Eduard, taller than his thirteen years would suggest and quicker to accept the increased responsibilities of his promotion from page to squire a year earlier, had also been a part of Wardieu's household since the tender age of six. Both young men were trustworthy, courageous, and loyal. Both burned for the opportunity to earn their own spurs of gold through deed or battle, and until then, to serve their powerful and mighty liege lord in whatever capacity demanded of them.
Nicolaa had never paid one more heed than the other, treating both with the same indifference she allotted any menial who sat below the salt. Only in moments of great weakness-or drunkenness-did she allow herself to remember the pain of giving birth, of pus.h.i.+ng the screaming infant away from her breast, of banis.h.i.+ng it into the north country so that no one should know or suspect its origins.
”Eduard has grown into a fine young man,” Wardieu murmured in her ear. ”A son any man would be proud of. A year or two more and he will no longer be content just to split Rolf out of a saddle, but will be turning his eye to me.”
”When he was born,” she said bitterly, ”I wanted to take him out-of-doors and dash his brains out on the nearest rock.”
”Ah, compa.s.sion,” he retorted blithely, echoing her scorn of only moments ago. ”It comes back to haunt us all, at one time or another. It will be interesting to see whose back Eduard will protect when he discovers the truth.”
”He need never know the truth. He believes he is yours, b.a.s.t.a.r.d-born, as does every other pair of eyes in the s.h.i.+re. There is no living soul who could gainsay him differently. Not even I could swear by my blood or yours whose seed it was took root and swelled within me.”
”Could you not? Can Can you not, Nicolaa? Look closer at the living flesh and tell me with all honesty-if you can-that you know not for certain where you have seen those eyes before, or warmed to that smile. Watch his hands, Nicolaa. Your servants did well in breaking him of the habit to favour the left, and I am sure he does not even remember a time when he did not grip a sword or a lance by the right. But the small things betray him. In the end, the small things betray us all.” you not, Nicolaa? Look closer at the living flesh and tell me with all honesty-if you can-that you know not for certain where you have seen those eyes before, or warmed to that smile. Watch his hands, Nicolaa. Your servants did well in breaking him of the habit to favour the left, and I am sure he does not even remember a time when he did not grip a sword or a lance by the right. But the small things betray him. In the end, the small things betray us all.”
Nicolaa was watching Eduard, but in her mind's eye, she saw only him. him. She saw him as clearly as if he stood before her now, his gray eyes almost colourless with resentment and disbelief. It was true, she had gone to him to beg forgiveness for her earthly sins and rampant appet.i.te, but he could see nothing through those n.o.ble eyes but betrayal and impurity. In disgust she had torn the ring from her thumb and hurled it at him, and he had simply turned away and walked out of her life without so much as a glance back. She saw him as clearly as if he stood before her now, his gray eyes almost colourless with resentment and disbelief. It was true, she had gone to him to beg forgiveness for her earthly sins and rampant appet.i.te, but he could see nothing through those n.o.ble eyes but betrayal and impurity. In disgust she had torn the ring from her thumb and hurled it at him, and he had simply turned away and walked out of her life without so much as a glance back.
”Does it not rankle to see him every day?” Nicolaa asked, flinching from the robust sound of Eduard's laughter as it drifted past her on the cool night air. ”How could you even take him in if you suspected he was sprung from your brother's seed?”
”The suspicion did not trouble me as much as it troubled you to know I had found him, despite all of your cunning attempts to keep him hidden.”
”I sought only to spare you pain,” she insisted darkly.
”What is pain if not too-perfect pleasure?”
”Was it your pleasure, then, to keep him by your side, flaunting him before my eyes at every turn?”
”It was my pleasure ... and my wisdom ... that bade me keep a small hold over you, my love.”
”He means nothing to me-nor to you if your treatment of him is any judge.”