Cast Love Aside (16 page)

“No matter what you do, Lord Royce,” Erland
gasped, wiping his streaming eyes, “no matter how many French
agents you capture and offer in exchange, King Louis will never
hand Desmond over to you. Indeed, he cannot.”

A terrible fear assailed Magnus. Surely, he'd
know if Desmond was dead. He'd sense the loss of his twin in his
very soul. And he’d stop having those disconcerting chills that
warned of danger to Desmond.

“You must forgive my unseemly humor.” Howling
with renewed laughter, Erland collapsed into a chair. “This is too
funny. I cannot bear it.”

Lilianne had been standing near the door,
watching the scene with a deepening frown. She chose this moment to
step forward, brushing past Magnus to confront Erland, though she
addressed her first remarks to Royce.

“My lord,” she said, “I thought we were here
to speak to my villainous uncle about Gilbert.”

“Gilbert?” Erland sobered briefly, before he
laughed again and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Oh, go
away, you stupid wench. What has Gilbert to do with my present
unhappy situation?”

“Count Erland.” Magnus unfolded his arms,
allowing Erland to see how he was holding his large fists ready to
strike. “You will speak to your niece with more respect.”

“Why should I?” Erland asked. “She betrayed
me at Manoir Sainte Inge, when she showed you the way to my private
room. For her disloyal act, she deserves no respect at all. Indeed,
she deserves a severe punishment.”

“Think what you will of me, but Gilbert has
never in his young life betrayed you,” Lilianne cried. “What have
you done with him?”

“Surely, you don't expect me to tell you?”
Erland said in a voice drenched with contempt. “Not after all this
time. Desist, Lilianne. I have no intention of revealing Gilbert's
present whereabouts to you.”

“You don't have to tell her where the boy
is,” Royce said. “We already know.”

“Then, why ask me?” Erland sneered as he
spoke, but Magnus thought he saw the beginning of fear in the
man.

“What do you mean, you know?” Lilianne cried,
turning her back on Erland to face Royce.

“Do you recall the parchments that Magnus
took from Erland's desk?” Royce asked her.

Magnus noted how Erland went perfectly still
when he heard the question. He also saw what Erland could not see,
the odd look that Lilianne turned on Royce. Her startled expression
suggested she couldn't believe what she was hearing, that she
thought Royce didn't want Erland to know they had the documents.
When Lilianne glanced at Magnus in perplexity, he chanced an almost
imperceptible nod, hoping she'd understand that he didn't want to
make Royce explain in front of Erland. She must have understood,
for she followed his silent direction.

“Yes, Royce,” Lilianne said, a faint upward
curve softening her lovely mouth. “I do remember how you said those
documents might contain useful information. Was it about
Gilbert?”

“So,” Erland muttered, “you have broken my
code.”

“Lilianne, your brother is at Manoir Sainte
Inge,” Magnus said.

“That cannot be!” she exclaimed. “I saw
Erland and Norbard ride off, with Gilbert riding between them. I
bid him farewell, and they escorted him away from the manor. When
Alice and I cleaned Gilbert's room after he’d left, all of his
belongings were gone.”

“Foolish female,” Erland said. “Like all of
your sex, you cannot reason for yourself. You see only what men
intend you to see.”

“Thanks to you, I am rapidly learning to see,
and to think, for myself,” Lilianne snarled at him.

“Count Erland,” Royce said in a dangerously
soft voice, “why don't you explain how you accomplished your clever
trick, so Lilianne can understand.”

“Oh, why not?” Erland shrugged. “The truth
can make no difference now. Gilbert must be dead by this time.”

Lilianne reeled, looking as if she would
faint. Magnus caught her with an arm around her waist. She leaned
against him, accepting his support, but she did not swoon or weep.
She just stared at Erland with angry eyes.

“Tell us what you did to Gilbert,” she
demanded, her voice remarkably steady.

“Late at night, after you and that ninny,
Alice, were in your bedchambers and not likely to come out of them
for fear of my men-at-arms,” Erland said, “I secretly returned to
the manor and deposited Gilbert in the tower room above my private
chamber. There he has been ever since. The poppy juice I gave him
to keep him quiet during his homecoming wore off fairly soon, but
by then he was securely locked away where no one could hear him
call for help.”

“What of the times when you were gone from
Manoir Sainte Inge?” Lilianne cried. “Who was caring for Gilbert
then? I don't understand the purpose behind your deception.”

“Of course, you don't understand,” Erland
said scornfully. “You are incapable of comprehending a
well-thought-out scheme. I left a supply of food and water for
Gilbert, because I thought it best to keep him alive for a time. I
departed from the manor again before dawn and continued on my
intended travels. While I was away I paid a discreet visit to King
Louis, who confirmed my position as rightful heir to Gilbert's
lands and title. After leaving the king, I spent a few informative
days among the English at Calais, before returning to Manoir Sainte
Inge.”

“You mean, you were spying on the English!”
Lilianne cried.

“What of it?” Erland shrugged again. “I obey
my king's commands.”

Lilianne caught her breath at the comment, so
like Royce's earlier statement. Magnus tightened his arm around her
waist, preparing for what was still to come.

“What Erland has just told you is undoubtedly
true,” Royce informed her. “A short note on one of the parchments
we deciphered confirms that Gilbert is locked in a tower room.
Apparently, Erland has been personally providing food and water for
the lad.”

“Why bother to feed him?” Magnus asked of
Erland. “According to you, King Louis has made you Gilbert's legal
heir. There’s no need to keep the boy alive any longer.”

“I thought it undiplomatic to let him die too
soon after King Louis agreed to my petition,” Erland responded.

“Then, he's not dead,” Lilianne
whispered.

Magnus could see the revival of her hope in
the way she straightened against his encircling arm. But almost
immediately she asked the question that had also occurred to
him.

“Since you are not at Manoir Sainte Inge,”
she said to Erland, “who has been feeding Gilbert in your
absence?”

“No one,” Erland said with supreme
indifference.

“Not Norbard?”

“Stupid girl, you forget that Norbard is
still away from the manor,” Erland said. “Besides, no intelligent
person would trust him with so important a secret.”

“Oh, dear heaven,” Lilianne whispered.

“Call on heaven if you wish,” Erland said.
“Your pleas won't alter the fact that your betrayal of me doomed
your brother. I hadn't yet taken Gilbert's food to him on the night
when your friends abducted me from Manoir Sainte Inge. If I have
reckoned the time correctly, that was eight days ago. Gilbert's
supply of water may have lasted for another few days, but he is
certainly dead by now. Which means that, in addition to being Count
of Morvan, I am also Lord of Sainte Inge. I do thank you for your
help, Lilianne.”

Magnus expected Lilianne to sag against him
in despair over her brother's fate. He should have known better.
She wrenched herself away from his supporting arm to fling herself
at Erland. Seeing her coming, Erland leapt from his chair, putting
it and the table between them.

“You are an evil, greedy man!” Lilianne
shouted. “Gilbert's death was your doing, not mine!”

“Think what you will. The boy would never
have made a warrior.” Erland sounded as if he was explaining a
simple lesson to a particularly dense student. “Nor could he have
grown into a strong lord for Manoir Sainte Inge. He simply was not
tough enough. Eventually, you will understand that it was better
this way, better by far for me to hold your late father's lands in
my own firm grasp.”

“Gilbert was my little brother!” she
screamed. “I know how you killed my father, too! What kind of
monster are you, to murder your blood kin?”

“No monster,” Erland said calmly, “just a
very clever man, who has outwitted your English friends.”

“I suppose you cleverly stole Lilianne's
dowry too?” Magnus asked, wanting the details of Erland's crimes
against his family to be spoken aloud before witnesses.

“Of course. A woman without a dowry is
beholden to her male relatives,” Erland said. “In time, she will
learn to obey me. I am, after all, her only hope of escaping life
in a convent.”

“I'll die before I ever obey you!” Lilianne
cried.

“As you wish,” said Erland. “I have no
objection to killing you, too.”

“But you won't kill her,” Royce said. “So
long as Lilianne does not return to France, there is no practical
purpose in killing her, no benefit to you in her death. And you
are, above all, a practical man, are you not, Count Erland?”

“If I ever see you again,” Lilianne said to
Erland, “I will come to you with a sword in my hand. And, by
heaven, I will use it.” She whirled, her skirts flaring out around
her ankles, and left the room.

Magnus needed every bit of self-discipline he
possessed to make himself remain where he was instead of rushing
after her as he longed to do. He told himself Lilianne would likely
prefer some privacy as she gave way to grief; but then, cursing
himself for a coward and a fool, he took a step toward the door.
Royce’s voice halted him, reminding him of the debt he owed to his
own brother.

“Well, now that we have learned what happened
to Gilbert,” Royce said to Erland, “will you tell us where Sir
Desmond is?”

“I know nothing of your spy,” Erland
responded with aristocratic indifference. “It would seem I am of no
use to you at all, Lord Royce. What a pity you wasted so much time
and money sending your men to seize me.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” Royce said, regarding
him with an inscrutable expression. “Then again, perhaps a bit of
judiciously applied pain will restore your memory in regard to Sir
Desmond.”

“You are welcome to try.” Erland went rather
pale at the thinly veiled threat of torture, but otherwise he
seemed resolute.

“I will think on the many possibilities,”
Royce said, smiling sweetly at his prisoner. “So will you, I am
sure.”

“I have a request to make of you,” Erland
said, somewhat uneasily. “As one nobleman to another, you
understand.”

“Indeed? You surprise me. I did not expect
you to make polite requests. Angry demands, yes, but not requests.”
Royce waited for Erland’s next words.

“Were you in my position, you'd raise the
same issue,” Erland said. Taking a deep breath, he went on, looking
just a little embarrassed. “I’ve not had a woman for more than two
weeks and I am growing uncomfortable. Send the castle whore to me.
I'll not occupy her for long.”

“What do you think, Magnus?” Royce asked.
“Shall I grant his request?”

“Does he really want a woman?” Magnus
wondered, dragging his thoughts away from Lilianne. “Or is he
seeking a means of sending a message out of Richton? I've heard of
whores being used to carry letters, as well as for their usual
purpose.”

“I give you my word of honor,” Erland
began.

“You have no honor,” Magnus told him with a
quietness that did not mask his rage at so cold-blooded a man. “If
you need such comfort, then comfort yourself.”

The tightening of Erland's mouth, the sudden
blaze of his eyes, could have been anger at the insult to his noble
honor, or outrage at Magnus's crude suggestion, or just the
frustration of his sexual need. Whatever Erland's true feelings,
Magnus knew he had scored an important point against the man, who
obviously liked to imagine himself in control of every situation.
Magnus also knew he had made an enemy who would not soon forget
what had been said in the tower room.

“Come along, Magnus.” Royce strode to the
door. Magnus followed him. Neither man bothered to look back at
Erland.

In the bailey again, Magnus swallowed the
sour taste in his mouth. Royce, apparently lost in thought, was
scanning the sky above the castle walls as if he expected to find
there the answers he had sought from Erland.

“Will you resort to torture?” Magnus asked
him.

“You’ve heard my opinion of torture,” Royce
said. “Extreme pain seldom produces a truthful response.”

“I thought you were lying about that for
Lilianne's sake.”

“I was not lying.”

“I no longer trust anything you say,
Royce.”

“I know. I'm sorry for that, but it can’t be
helped. I've grown used to people not trusting or believing me. You
may trust this, however: I am dedicated to securing your brother's
release, not because I care about Desmond, whom I consider a
hot-headed fool, but because King Henry wants him freed.”

“That's all very well, but how are we to find
Desmond, if King Louis claims to know nothing about him and we
cannot get anything out of Erland?” Magnus asked.

“The original message concerning Desmond was
sent to King Henry through a secret channel.” Royce sounded as if
he was musing to himself. “I have my private suspicions about the
origin of this affair, but I prefer to discuss them with King Henry
before I make any decision as to what our next steps should
be.”

“The king is presently in Normandy.”

“Which is why I shall depart for Normandy
this afternoon.”

“What, now?” Magnus exclaimed. “Do you expect
William and Braedon and me to go with you?”

“No. I want all of you to stay here at
Richton. I’ll ride to Pevensey and take ship from there; it's a
shorter crossing than from Hythe or Dover, and from the looks of
the sky, the weather is about to turn stormy. I don't intend to be
lost at sea.”