Part 20 (1/2)
”Lucien,” she said, testing the name on her tongue, ”should not be so sure of himself all the time. It could win him more trouble than he can handle.” she said, testing the name on her tongue, ”should not be so sure of himself all the time. It could win him more trouble than he can handle.”
”He is already balancing more trouble than he can handle, my lady, although he would be the last to admit it.”
”Oh? How so? Has he run out of women to kidnap and abbeys to desecrate?”
Alaric ignored the sarcasm, though its presence was a good sign. ”He knew he would have to face his brother one way or another. That is not the trouble he finds himself in, as well you know.”
”I know he has a penchant for playing games with people's lives,” she said and turned away. ”I suspect it amuses him to act the part of a cat in a roomful of mice; to corner each mouse in turn and worry it half to death before discarding it to stalk another.”
”He has not discarded you, my lady,” Alaric said quietly. ”In truth, he has been behaving like a scalded cat from the moment you rode away from the abbey.”
”I did not ride away, sirrah. I was sent away. Thrown away, if you will, once I was no longer of any use to him.”
”Come now, you do not believe that.”
”Do I not?” she demanded, whirling back to confront him. ”What would you have me believe of a man who lives and breathes revenge to the exclusion of all else?”
Alaric sighed. ”He is a proud and stubborn man who thought his pride and stubbornness should outweigh any softer feelings that might be dangerous to you both if he allowed them to intrude on his emotions.”
”Softer feelings? Emotions?” She scorned the notion with a bitter laugh. ”He has neither, my lord. He is cold and heartless; arrogant and self-righteous and contemptuous of anything and everything that does not suit his purpose. I suited his purpose, but only insofar as my wedding to his brother provided the perfect opportunity to display his cunningness to the world. He has no heart, no soul. He cares for nothing but his own skin and does nothing that does not further his own vainglory! That That is what I believe!” is what I believe!”
Friar drew a deep breath. ”Then perhaps you should know a thing or two about him-things he would never tell you himself.”
”I already know everything I care to know about him. He is cruel, vicious, and utterly without honour.”
”Lucien told me you once asked him why I did not complete my vows to the church,” he said quietly.
Servanne held her patience in check, wondering what earthly-or heavenly-connection this had to the subject at hand.
”He would never tell you, but perhaps I should. I was but a few days from making my final vows,” he continued, and fingered the gold crucifix that hung from a chain around his waist. ”I was a.s.signed to attend the comforts of the bishop who had come to officiate at the ceremonies, and it was in the course of seeing to some minor oversight I stumbled across the bishop and the abbess from the neighbouring convent seeing to a late-night oversight of their own. The breaking of vows of celibacy is nothing new or shocking in either a monastery or a convent; that was not what I found the most disturbing. It was the fact that they were using a young and unwilling novitiate the abbess had chosen for the special occasion, and the fact that when they had finished with her, they intended to carve her up like some sacrificial offering.
”I stepped in barely in time to save the girl's life, but in the process, the knife somehow found its way into the bishop's chest. Before I knew it, I was in chains and being brought to trial for devil wors.h.i.+p and murder. It was the word of the abbess against mine, you see. The tribunal consisted of churchmen-none of whom would dare admit to the macabre practices of their bishop.”
”What about the girl? You said you were in time to save her; surely she could have testified on your behalf?”
”She was in shock and half dead. It was almost three years before she spoke again, and then only because Lucien spared no expense in finding the best physicians in Normandy to care for her.”
”Lucien? He was involved?”
”He was present at the tribunal as the queen's representative. He had no authority over the proceedings, but he watched and he listened, and ... the day I was slated for final judgment, he came riding in out of nowhere, and slew the half-dozen Knights Templar who objected to his aiding my escape. The queen, whose land bordered the abbey, was not pleased, as you might imagine. But at the risk of his life and reputation, Lucien scoured the countryside, applying his own particular brand of persuasion to tongues that had, until then, remained silent against the bishop's peculiar perversions. As it turned out, there were bodies of other mutilated girls discovered in places the bishop had frequented.
”Solely due to Lucien's efforts, I was cleared of the charge of murder-and mine is not the only such tale to be told. All of the men who follow him-Sparrow, Robert, Mutter and Stutter-all of them owe him a debt of trust and loyalty which can never be repaid. Even Gil, stubborn as she is, would never have been accepted into the band if not for Lucien.”
Servanne halted him with a frown. ”She? ”She? Gil Golden is a woman?” Gil Golden is a woman?”
Friar cursed the slip, but after a moment, nodded. ”As pigheaded as any man I have ever laid an eye to, but aye, she's a woman.”
Servanne was beyond reacting to any more surprises. ”So. He saved your life, became the benefactor for a band of misfits and recalcitrants, and lives a life of a.s.sured comfort in service to Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. All applaudable achievements, sirrah, but despoiled nonetheless by his current misdeeds.”
”Granted, his methods are sometimes ... questionable, to say the least, but he is as honest and honourable a man as I have ever come across, and loyal to the death to people who matter to him.”
Servanne challenged the softened tone of his voice. ”Are you trying to tell me I matter to him?”
”Mock me for a fool if you like, my lady, but I would go so far as to suggest the heartless rogue is in love with you.”
”Your jest is cruel, m'sieur,” Servanne said, her cheeks flaming hotly. ”He is in love with no one save himself. If he were ... if he were at all concerned concerned for my welfare, why did he not send me away from this place instead of handing me over like a platter of rare meat?” for my welfare, why did he not send me away from this place instead of handing me over like a platter of rare meat?”
”Why does any man cut off his nose to spite his face? If he kept you with him, he would have had to admit he loved you, and I do not think he was prepared to admit it, even to himself.”
”Then how can you you be so sure?” she demanded. be so sure?” she demanded.
Friar's grin was self-effacing. ”I recognize the symptoms ... in both of you.”
”Both! You are are mad! I do not love him. I do not even like him! What is more, I doubt it would draw a tear if I never saw him or heard his name- mad! I do not love him. I do not even like him! What is more, I doubt it would draw a tear if I never saw him or heard his name-whatever it might be-ever again!”
Friar studied the adamantly squared shoulders she presented to him, and scratched his jaw thoughtfully. ”Then you will not want to know he will be here, inside Bloodmoor, the day of the wedding.”
”He is coming here?” she gasped. ”To the castle? But how ...? When ...?”
”How is not important,” Alaric began, but was cut off by an exclamation of dismay.
”Not important! Lord Wardieu has given orders everyone must be stopped, questioned, and his ident.i.ty verified before being admitted to the castle grounds. You have seen the number of guards who patrol the walls and towers-they have already been doubled since we arrived, and there was talk today of taking even stronger measures to avoid any unwanted surprises.” unwanted surprises.”
Friar nodded as if they were all valid arguments he had heard before. ”He is counting on La Seyne's presence to see him through the sentry checks. Mirebeau has four score men under his command, a few more will not be noticed.”
”La Seyne,” she despaired. ”Is he as mad as everyone else?”
”Madder,” Friar agreed grimly. A short inner debate took place behind the dark brown eyes before he took her hands gently in his and added, ”My lady, we have all known, from the instant Lucien learned of his brother's presence here at Bloodmoor Keep, he would not-could not-rest until one or both of them were dead. He is arrogant and proud and stubborn, and when he gets a thing in his head, it is devilish hard to dislodge it or turn him on a new course. Death does that to you, and he came as close to dying as a man can come without touching the hand of G.o.d. There is nothing you or I can do to stop this thing from happening. Nothing at all.”
Servanne continued gazing up into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, her own filling with bright, fierce tears of denial. She jerked her hands out of his and backed up several steps.
”La Seyne,” she cried. ”La Seyne could stop it by killing De Gournay himself.”
A second small battle was waged in the depths of Friar's eyes before he answered. ”La Seyne will be pleased to hear the Dragon has accepted his challenge, but it will be Lucien who rides onto the field to face his brother.”
”What?” Servanne's voice was scarcely more than a ragged breath. ”What did you say?”
”La Seyne's business here is with Prince John, and when it is concluded-”
”Business? What business?”
”It ... is not my place to tell you, my lady. It would not be safe for you to know. Suffice it to say the tournament and challenge will serve to keep the Dragon's attention diverted elsewhere. Already he has abandoned his guests to concentrate on the practice fields, and word of the match has spread outside the castle walls, sure to bring great crowds to the castle-crowds he could no more keep outside the walls than a paper dam could control a tide. Crowds bring confusion, and confusion breeds mistakes.”
”Everything has been so carefully thought out, has it not?” she said bleakly. ”Even to sending you here in your bishop's robes to warm my heart with promises of love and loyalty. But what if he fails? What if, after all his clever scheming and manipulating, he is no match for De Gournay? What if the wrong man survives to walk off the field? You and La Seyne and your merry band of havoc-makers will ride away and seek other n.o.ble horizons to conquer ... but what will become of those you leave behind? What will become of me?”
”Lucien has already made provisions-”