Blades of Valor (24 page)

“The babe?” Katherine asked. “He is here?”

Sir William nodded.

“Follow me inside,” the knight said. “I will introduce you to the heir of all England, the future Edward III.”

Forty-Eight

T
he cave resulted from the haphazard piling of huge slabs of granite over the large boulders that lined the river. It was barely deeper than the interior of a peasant’s hut and lit by a shaft of sunlight that fell between the cracks of the two of the largest slabs that formed the cave’s roof. In the far corner, an oily torch burned, its smoke carried immediately upward in a draft that escaped between smaller cracks in the ceiling.

Centuries of growth of moss and lichen had eroded most the rock and, combined with the light from the sun and torch, now made the walls seem softer than mere harsh granite.

Katherine did not have to stoop as she stepped through the entrance. Once inside, she discovered there was room to stretch upward, should she have so chosen.

She did not.

She could have moved to the left side of the cave, to a chest that was as high as her knees and as wide as a cart.

She did not.

Instead, she stared at the other occupants of the cave.

In the corner, on a rough stool, sat a nurse, shawled in the coarse cloth of a peasant. In her arms, wrapped in the finest linen available, was a baby.

Edward III.
Eyes closed. The innocent sleep of a toddler, and very small for his age, almost like a baby. A wisp of dark hair matted to his forehead. Tiny fingers clenched.

“Did His Majesty travel well?” Thomas was asking.

Katherine didn’t hear Sir William’s reply. She was struggling with unfamiliar emotions.

She had been brought up a lonely child. The years in disguise behind bandages as a freak had ensured she did not play with or meet other children. Never had she been allowed to hold a baby, or even creep close.

So here, only steps away, she was mesmerized by both the baby and how he affected her. The baby’s vulnerability fascinated her. That same vulnerability also made her yearn to hold and protect.

She did not see the boy as a future king. She simply saw the boy as someone who needed love. So, it seemed, did the nurse, who leaned over the baby and soothed him with low murmuring.

“… the travel presented little difficulty.” Katherine realized Sir William was replying to Thomas. “But after our arrival here! I’ve never known something so small could squall so loud.”

Thomas began to smirk but quickly arranged his face to a more sober expression as he noticed the glare on Katherine’s face.

“Exiled here in a cold, dark cave with a brutish, uncaring knight,” Katherine said. “I’d squall too.”

“Methinks rather it was the teething that brought forth such squalls,” Sir William said, undaunted by Katherine’s flash of temper.

Thomas wisely remained silent.

“Men!” Katherine snapped. She turned to the nurse. “May I help? Does he need anything?”

The nurse shook her head without lifting her face to look at Katherine.

“May I … may I …” Katherine had become shy.

“Hold him?” the nurse asked.

“Yes.”

The nurse nodded.

Katherine did not notice the amused glance exchanged between Thomas and Sir William. Katherine was halfway to the baby when a new voice stopped her.

“Oh my,” the voice taunted. “How utterly touching.”

Katherine whirled.

Waleran. It is Waleran.
As ugly as a nightmare, and leering the evil smile of rotted teeth he had last flashed as guards had taken Katherine and Thomas from his chamber to the Tower.

Forty-Nine

T
sk, tsk,”
Waleran said as Sir William reached for his sword. “This is no place for rudeness. As you can see, I do not carry a weapon.”

Sir William ignored the comment and drew his sword.

Waleran released an exaggerated sigh. “Dealing with barbarians is so … so … fruitless.”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “William, William,” he chastised. “Do you think I would be fool enough to enter this den of lions like a helpless lamb?”

Waleran replied to his own question, a man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice. “Hardly. Outside this cave is an army of twenty. All I need do is raise my voice, and all of you will be dead.”

“Twenty men,” Sir William said. “That matters little if I slit your throat now.”

Waleran snorted. “And what will become of your friends? Once I am dead, so are they. Thomas … Katherine … this baby—”

For a moment, the arrogant coolness across Waleran’s face slipped. “That is the king’s son! The entire kingdom is in an uproar. And you have him here!”

Surprise became a sly smile.

“I beg pardon.
We
have him here. Perhaps you’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”

Before Waleran could say more, Sir William sheathed his sword.

“You will live,” Sir William said as the sword hissed back into place, “but it would be more pleasant to share this cave with a half-rotted pig.”

Waleran sneered. He pointed at Thomas, then at Katherine. “A half-rotted pig would have more cunning than these two combined.”

“Oh?” Sir William asked with the casualness of a man holding back rage only through supreme effort.

“They believed it was an act of God that their guard suffered a seizure in the midst of their cell, that it was a miracle to escape the Tower through the use of the guard’s keys.” Waleran laughed until he coughed. “A miracle? Certainly. A miracle the guard didn’t die after the potion I placed in his beer. My biggest fear was that he would collapse before he reached their cell.”

“You let us escape deliberately so that you could follow us here,” Katherine said quietly. “Just as you once let Thomas escape York.”

“Yes, my dear,” Waleran said as if praising a small child. “You catch on to these things so
very
quickly. And would it surprise you that every word you said in that cell reached the ears of a listener?”

Katherine blushed.

“Oh yes,” Waleran said. “Every word. Such a shame. The love you two professed for each other will never flower.”

He waved that away as insignificant. “Thomas repeatedly made the mistake of telling you that all he needed was to return to the monastery of his childhood. That here would be revealed the final secrets that might overcome us.”

“You overheard our conversations and let us escape, just to track us here?” Thomas sounded as if he were in shock. “Why not simply come search the area with your own men?”

“Of course, but this was more fun, was it not? Do I not, as the brilliant right-hand advisor to the king, also deserve my amusement?”

The nurse stirred to comfort the baby, who had begun to whimper at the harshness of Waleran’s voice. Her movement was slight, however; she appeared to be too frightened to look up at Waleran.

“This baby,” Waleran said. “Why was he taken?”

“Desperation,” Sir William said, after a long exhalation of breath. “There are so few Immortals. Messengers brought me word that Thomas and Katherine had been imprisoned. The plan to show the king the Druid book must have failed. I hoped King Edward would believe Druids had kidnapped this baby. It would get him to look closely at how the towns in the northern part of his kingdom have fallen to Druids posing as Priests of the Holy Grail. With King Edward’s help, we would stop you before you gained power.”

Waleran chuckled. “King Edward never heard of that proof, nor, with me as his chamberlain, will he ever. You are the last of Merlin’s misfits, and soon you will be gone.”

Katherine shuddered.

“Already, we have dozens of towns here in the north. Having King Edward’s son now as hostage only makes our task easier. And within a year, Druids will reign supreme.”

Sir William sighed. He began to pace the small area of the cave, running his fingers through his hair in distraction. Finally, he moved to a stool near the nurse, bowed his head, and spoke. “We have truly failed.”

Waleran rubbed his hands together. “Yes,” he said. “Even if you don’t tell us what we still need, it will be found.”

“I suspect so,” Sir William said.

“Do not suspect. Consider it truth,” Waleran snapped. “There are twenty outside now and more to arrive.”

“More?” Katherine asked.

“I have sent messengers to all parts of England. The highest members of our circle will gather here. My original intent was to gather our best minds to find what you had hidden here. Further-more, it seems it will give us a chance to direct the final stages of battle. England will be ours. This baby will be the heir to nothing.”

Thomas finally spoke. His voice was tinged with bitterness. “Druid leaders will all meet in secrecy here?”

Waleran laughed. “You
do
see the irony. This obscure abbey was sufficient to hide you for years, even from the all-seeing eyes of the Druid web. How much better, then, for us to gather in the same remoteness?”

“All is lost,” Sir William said. “The Druids have conquered the Immortals.”

Katherine moved to him and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder.

Waleran watched, with a smile as hideous as the open mouth of a deadly snake. “Please,” Waleran said to Thomas through that smile, “save us both time and effort and tell me of what we seek.”

Katherine took an involuntary look at the chest at the side of the cave. She quickly looked away again, but not soon enough.

“Ho!” Waleran said. “Something I should not see?”

He strode to the torch, pulled it from its base, and walked to the chest.

Upon opening it, he frowned. “Just this?” Disappointment registered in his voice. “We have been searching for ten years for the great treasure rumored to appear among the Immortals, and all I find are several books? Why, it’s merely a copy of these.” He removed the text he’d taken from Katherine and Thomas and compared the pages within. “Yes, they are practically identical.”

“ ’Tis true,” Thomas said quickly. “What you seek lies at the bottom of the pond.”

“Play no games with me,” Waleran warned Thomas. “Your whimpering voice tells me perhaps this book
is
valuable.”

“I would rather die than tell you.”

“Tell him all, Thomas,” Sir William said. “Mayhap we can leave with our lives.”

“Yes,” Waleran said in oily tones. “Tell all.”

Thomas blinked once, twice, as if trying to decide.

“Spare yourselves further agony,” Waleran said. “And tell me of this book!” Waleran’s voice rose in volume with such impatience that the baby woke and began to cry.

“Shut that whelp’s mouth!” he ordered the nurse.

“No,” the nurse whispered calmly.

“No? No?” Waleran’s face began to purple with sudden rage. “You dare defy me? A common peasant dares to defy the Duke of Whittingham? Master of the Druids? The right-hand man of King Edward II? You
dare
?”

The nurse lifted her head and pushed the shawl away from her face.

“Ask, instead, if
you
dare defy me?”

Waleran staggered backward.

“Queen Isabella!”

“Indeed,” she said. “The one person in England that King Edward trusts more than you, his beloved Duke of Whittingham. And I have heard enough for you to hang.”

She smiled.

“And enough for the Druids to be wiped from the face of the earth.”

Fifty

I
mpossible,” Waleran said. The slate color of his face showed, however, that he believed it all too possible. “How … how …”

Queen Isabella stood and gracefully moved to Katherine while Waleran’s jaw worked against empty air.

Katherine accepted the offered baby with awe and hugged his warmth against her chest.

The queen of England here and the future king in my arms. Surely I dream.

“How is it I am here—the last place on earth a traitor such as you would expect?” Queen Isabella drew to her full height. Her words were ice—brittle and unforgiving.

The peasant’s shawl still wrapped her, but her posture became unmistakably royal—her back now straight, shoulders now squared, and chin held high with dignity. The pale, smooth skin of her face was not coarsened like that of most peasants from exposure to sun or wind, and that skin sharply contrasted her dark, thick hair and full red lips. An aura seemed to radiate around her as she once again became the woman accustomed to the power of life and death over thousands of her subjects.

She fixed her terrible gaze on Waleran and advanced. “I am here because of a mysterious stranger who appeared in the royal bedchambers shortly before dawn, barely a fortnight ago.”

Waleran shook his head as he retreated until his back touched the cave wall. “No. Only one man would be capable of such a thing, and he is dead.”

“His ghost, then,” Queen Isabella said without smiling. “And at first, I believed it to be a ghost. How could a mere man slip through the royal residence and avoid the guards?”

“But—”

“My first impulse was to scream. Yet there was something about the man’s calmness.” Queen Isabella smiled in recollection. “This man informed me that my son, Edward, had been taken. King Edward was at the country estate, and I was alone, except for the guards roaming the castle. But I did not panic. There was a gentleness about this man.”

Waleran began to shake like a dog waiting to be beaten.

“This man invited me to see for myself if the baby was gone, that he would be waiting for my return to my bedchamber. He was not afraid, this man, for he said if he had lied, then I could call the guards. He told me if baby Edward truly had been taken, however, it would be in my best interest to hear the story. The baby was gone from the nursery, and I returned without calling alarm. And listened.”

Baby Edward began to cry. Katherine rocked him but to no avail.

“That mysterious stranger informed me, that dawn, of a plot against the throne,” Queen Isabella said. “A Druid plot. And an ancient book that contained proof. Understandably, I found the thought ridiculous. Druids were a myth. Superstition, I told him.”