Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (18 page)

He tried to shove against the wooden planks, splinters biting into his flesh. The door moved an inch and then another crash came from above as something was tossed on top.

Several sleepers stirred behind him.

“What the devil are you about? Open this bloody door! That is an order!” he bellowed.

But the only answer to his demands was cruel laughter
on the other side that slowly faded away.

Whoever locked him here, locked the men in here,
had
done it on purpose. Warm liquid seeped from the planks and landed—
drip
drip
drip—
on his nose and forehead.
Metallic.
Tangy.
Blood.
If he had to bet a coffer of silver, he’d wager the object tossed on top of the wooden door was the bleeding body of the night guard.

Dammit!
There was a murderer within the walls of Kent, and Elena was alone with her ladies above stairs, one guard to watch over her.

“Wake you bloody fools and
help
me!”
He
shoved with all his might against the wooden hatch.

Chapter Fif
teen

A
rthur stepped from the shadows near the dungeon.

His eyes were wide and droplets of sweat beaded on his upper lip. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

A murder within the walls of the castle.

The mighty Black Knight locked in the dungeon.

He didn’t know whether to panic or rejoice. The man who’d attacked the night guard was shrouded in darkness. Like a demon he’d swept in. At first, Arthur thought him a friend of the guard as they’d chatted for a few moments, but then he’d seen the flash of something metal in the dim light of the wall sconces.

The cloaked figure’s arm whipped out,
then
a ribbon of crimson had appeared on the night guard’s throat.
Slashed.

Arthur
gulped,
his throat dry.

“Open this bloody hatch before I run you through!” Captain Devereux’s booming voice made
Arthur’s
blood chill.

What was he to do? Arthur stepped forward,
then
stepped back into the shadows. It was possible the murderer was still in the darkened corridor. He’d extinguished most of the lit sconces. If he saw Arthur try to help the captain, he would be slashed open, too.

He swallowed hard, and pressed his hands to his stomach. Bile rose in his throat, his bowels twisting into knots. He was going to be sick.

Loud grunts and curses came from the hatch, and the body lying atop it lurched as forceful hands shoved at the dungeon door. The men would break through any moment. If he helped he would be in the clear, and the murderer couldn’t get to him so quickly. If he didn’t help and they opened the door and saw him standing there, he would be condemned.

Arthur gagged, realizing how little stomach he had for
machinations. He just wanted to go back to his old life.
To be a peasant again.

Worthless you are!

The sound of his mother’s bitter and angry tongue jolted Arthur back to reality. He needed to stop being a milk-sop boy who’d just soiled his pants. He stiffened, straightened his back and stepped forward. With his foot he nudged the fallen guard, but his body barely moved. The man was a hulk of flesh, bone and muscle. Arthur nudged harder, and smiled when the body moved a fraction of an inch. Sitting down, he used both feet to push and kick the guard away from the side of the door that opened the latch. With each press of his foot and the shoves from the knights below, the door opened more.

“I’m here a
helpin
’ ye,
Cap’n
!” he shouted.

More grunts and curses.
He didn’t rightly expect the captain to acknowledge him, but then again, maybe he hadn’t heard?

“It’s me, Arthur,
Cap’n
. There
be
a murdered man here! I’m
pushin
’ ‘
im
, I am.”

With one final shove and lurch, the body was out of the way and the latch opened. The captain leapt from the ladder leading down into the dungeon and grasped Arthur by the throat, lifting him from the ground and into the air. He pressed Arthur against the stone wall, jagged edges digging into the tender flesh of his back.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Veins pulsed in the captain’s forehead. His rage was an incredible sight to see—especially after having seen him so tender with the lady earlier.

Arthur had gone up to the parapet for a solitary mug of ale and seen the captain coddling her. Then he’d decided to follow him, hoping at another chance to blackmail him, but
Arthur’d
been too scared to go into the dungeon, so he’d sunk into the shadows to wait.

“I—uh—I…” His eyes flickered to the other guards as some ran past in search of the villain, and others lit the sconces.

“Out with it, churl!”

How in all the sheep’s asses would he explain his situation?

“I heard a noise, captain, came to see and saw the man
bleedin
’ on the dungeon door.”
His words were choked gasps and h
e smothered the urge to gulp, hoping in the dim light the captain wouldn’t see that he was lying.

“Did you see the man who did this?”

Arth
ur shook his head emphatically.
“Weren’t
nothin
’ but a shadow,
Cap’n
.
”

The captain let go, and Arthur grasped at his own neck, sucking in air. He would have bruises on his flesh tomorrow.

“I don’t like that you’re skulking about at all hours of the night. Are you thieving again?”

Arthur’s eyes widened, remembering his first encounter with the knight. “No, no, no I
ain’t
thieving again.”

“Get you to bed then, else I have a mind to charge you as an accomplice in this guard’s murder.”

Arthur bowed low, stood,
then
bowed again, backing away from the captain. He didn’t know what else to
do,
only he was so relieved to be getting away, to not be in as much trouble as he contemplated, and indeed he was still alive.
Not such a worthless whelp, Mother.

’
Twas a fact he did not get to tell the captain what he’d seen and heard up on the parapet, but he wouldn’t be forgetting it, and he’d get another chance soon.

*****

Michael issued orders for the body of the guard to be removed, cleansed, given the last rights, and the news brought to his family. They would bury him in the morning after a short mass. There was no evidence in the hall, not even
a few drops of blood left from the weapon as the murderer walked away. The villain simply disappeared.

A dozen guards were sent to the earl’s chamber and to Elena’s as well to keep them safe, with orders not to disturb them—not that his lordship would stir if they should tell him the news. All of the wounded were ordered taken from the dungeons, and instead two chambers in the west tower were made into sick rooms.

A half-dozen
guards woke the servants sleeping in the great hall, and were lining them up for
Michael
to question.
Another dozen guards
circl
ed
the grounds to bring in the rest of the servants, or to try and track down anyone who might have seen something.

Michael frowned, thinking Arthur knew much more than he was telling. And the thought did pass through his mind that Arthur himself had been the culprit, but there was no way. The whelp couldn’t weigh more than eight stone and was about the size of the guard’s left leg.

How complicated this post had become. At one time he’d simply thought to be closer to Elena, to secure the castle’s fortifications and train the men. Now he was dealing with attacks, murders and a tyrant of a lord who also happened to be deceptive. And he couldn’t help but be reminded that the murderer had been seeking to gain his attention. Why else would he have done what he did? Certainly the guard who’d been killed wasn’t anyone’s enemy. No, the villain was most definitely after Michael.
But why?
Was he ordered by the earl? Was it just to warn him? For other than unsettling Michael, no harm had been done to him.

He wanted desperately to give up, to leave, to take Elena with him, but now he saw things more the way she did. The people of Kent needed their protection, someone to make them safe from the evil machinations of their lord. Right now they were all hens waiting to be pecked by foxes—foxes that lived within the chicken coop, waiting, lurking until the time
to strike was right.

“Captain,” Fletch said, startling Michael from his thoughts.

“
Aye
, go ahead, give me your report.”

Other than a slight flaring of his nostrils, Fletch did not comment on Michael’s agitated state. “The extra guards have been posted at my lord’s and lady’s chambers. Extra guards are up on the walls, and we have wakened every knight, squire, servant, even the dogs and rats to question them. We will ferret out the culprit, Captain. Have no doubt.”

Michael nodded. “Well done, Fletch.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

Michael rolled his eyes. The flared nostrils were apparently not all
he was going to get from Fletch.

“Aye, man.”

“Captain, perhaps it would be best if the lady were to seek comfort at an abbey. She would be safe there, and in the meantime you would be able to get the rest of the castle under control, and
well fortified
.”

Michael narrowed his eyes as
Fletch’s
words rolled through his mind. The man was right. He would be able to concentrate on getting the holding under control, without the distraction of worry for Elena’s safety—and her scent, the sight of her could make his mind into a muddle in seconds. A damned fine idea it was. He nodded.

“I will speak with his lordship come dawn.”

But seeing it done was not as easy as it sounded. Kent balked mightily at the idea of hi
s countess leaving the castle. Kent
thought it showed too much that she was running away, despite Michael’s efforts to convince
the man
that it would only serve to keep his wife safe until the murderer could be located—that she would then return to the keep. In the end, Kent relented, muttering that he’d be glad to have the worthless woman out of his way for a time. He then ordered Michael to bring the news to Elena—a task easier said than
done, as Elena had no desire whatsoever to leave Michael—toting that she could protect him as she was a good shot. Nor to make a show to her people that she was running away from danger.

“Captain, if I may?”
Raelyn
, one of Elena’s ladies in waiting said, stepping forward. Her pretty eyes were downcast, and in that moment, where she looked so calm and regal, Michael could see where Thomas would be in love with her. She placed her arm gently on Elena’s and said in a soothing voice, “My lady, you have oft said you wished to visit St. Augustine’s Abbey. Would not this be a great opportunity to do so? You could bring
them
shirts, we could hold a small court for women and children, do a bit of gardening, praying. It will be a spiritual cleansing, and one I think we are all in great need of.”

Her other ladies nodded emphatically. Michael watched the play of emotions on Elena’s face. He could see her wanting to acquiesce for her own good, and for the wishes of her ladies, but at the same time, he knew she struggled to leave those less fortunate behind.

“I have longed to see the new Lady Chapel. I hear the stone workers and master builder have done a wonderful job rebuilding the abbey after the earthquake that tumbled several walls, but…”

“You could bring more than your ladies, perhaps a dozen others to serve on your staff, and to help the abbey with the added burden,” Michael offered.

Elena’s face brightened, her
gaze
meeting his. “Well, then,” she said softly and licked her lips. His gaze followed the path of her tongue like a starving man. “Let us prepare ourselves. It shall take at least a sennight before we are able to depart.”

“Tomorrow.”
Michael folded his arms over his chest, refusing to back down. He wanted her to leave that instant, but he knew it would take some time to pack the caravan.

She nodded.
“Tomorrow
then, C
aptain.”

Michael exhaled the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He was relieved she was so amenable to the idea of leaving, and he felt she would be quite safe in St. Augustine’s Abbey. He inclined his head to her and her ladies and then turned to leave her chamber, in search of his men so they might begin preparations, and so he might gather a team to help him discern the whereabouts of the tunnels.

“Sir Michael?” Elena’s soft voice stopped him.

“Aye, my lady?”

“Might we have a word?” She eyed her ladies.
“In private?”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Her ladies all curtsied and then quietly quit the room, closing the door softly behind them. Elena rushed to him then, her body colliding with his, her arms encircling his waist, and her head resting against the thickness of his hauberk.

“Michael,” she
breathed,
her voice like a feathered caress to his ears. He was immediately alert, filled with desire for her. “I am frightened.” His desire dampened.

He reached up and stroked the silky hair that spilled down her back, wanting to comfort her, and himself. “Don’t be frightened, my love. I shall keep you safe while you are here, and when you are securely behind the abbey walls, God and his sheep shall protect you.”
That and the thick abbey walls as well as the guard I will leave behind
, but he didn’t voice his last thoughts.

Her head bobbed against his chest, and then she leaned back, looking up at him with dewy eyes, and sweet rosy lips. His gaze was caught on the pink flesh that called to him for a kiss. He blinked, trying to push the need to connect his lips to hers away, but the desire was too much. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers, drinking in her essence. She eagerly kissed him back, her arms threading up around his
neck, her body sinking into his. He swept his tongue inside to meld with hers, stroking softly, lovingly. He wanted her to feel his need for her, how much he cared for her.