Forbidden Magic (46 page)

* * *

"Thank you, dear friend, for all your help," Amery said with a tender smile as he shook Doane's hand. "And know that before spring has touched the land, the true lord of Wellington will reign here."

"In my heart, 'twas always you I called my lord, Amery," Doane said with a grin. "Now hurry. You must be well on the road before someone finds Edlyn and she sends an army after you."

"You will be safe? No one knows of your part in this?"

"Only Leta, and she goes with you," Doane assured him as he gently nudged Amery out the door of his hut. "My only worry is convincing, you to flee!"

"Then set your mind at ease," Amery responded with a smile, grasping the edges of his mantle in one hand when the wind threatened, to whip it off his shoulders. He paused a moment more, wishing there were time to tell the old man how much he cared, then he turned abruptly and set off through the trees toward the place where they had left their mounts, unaware of the hate-filled eyes watching his every move from the distance.

* * *

Radolf had argued with his cousin earlier over whether to take an array to Burchard Castle or send a spy there first, and Kennard had stormed out of the great hall when Radolf had insisted his idea was better. During a visit to London the day before, they had learned from some of Amery's fellow knights who had marched in the Crusade with him that Amery had struck up a friendship with a man called Gunther and that the two of them could have sought refuge on the Isle of Wight. Since Radolf could not be certain that that was where Amery had taken Jewel, Kennard argued that taking an army to Burchard on such a lengthy trip might be a waste of time as well as dangerous. It would leave Wellington vulnerable if Amery were to decide to attack while they were gone. Kennard had relented slightly when Radolf had reminded him that Ian was probably already there and intending to kill Lady Jewel, but he had countered by reminding Radolf that Ian would have to fight Amery and Gunther and more than likely the entire group of knights living at Burchard before he could get to Lady Jewel. But Radolf would not listen, and when Kennard realized it, he had excused himself to go for a walk outside in the crisp winter air, leaving Radolf alone to brood.

Everything Radolf had done over the years had been to achieve one major goal, and that included having Jewel as his wife. But now one man stood in his way and even his cousin did not want to help. No one would accuse Radolf of anything unjust if he marched on Burchard and killed those who opposed him. Amery was the villain. He had been blamed for what had happened at Harcourt, and when he took Jewel it had confirmed his guilt—in the eyes of the people of England. Couldn't Kennard see that? Or didn't he care? Had he turned against him? Had he, perhaps, felt guilt for his part in it and did he want to atone for his actions? Confused and angry, Radolf decided to confront his cousin, have him explain his stand, then prove to him that his way was best.

He had left the great hall then in search of Kennard and grew even angrier when he could not find him. None of the serfs had seen him, and Radolf decided that perhaps Kennard was in the stables with his destrier as had always been his custom whenever the two of them had had a bitter disagreement. What he found was not what he had hoped for. As soon as he entered the building, he could hear the outraged cries of a woman, and -they sounded horribly familiar. Moving in the direction from which they came, he discovered that the way into the storage room was blocked. Stepping back, he raised the heel of his boot and kicked it against the rickety door, edging it open slightly. A second effort opened it even further, and with the weight of his shoulder against it, he pushed with all his strength and gained entry.

"Mother!" he exclaimed once he saw that her hands were bound behind her. "Who did this?" He knelt down and quickly untied the leather strap.

"Oh, Radolf, I cannot believe it, and I saw it with my own eyes," she wept, clinging to him when he helped her to her feet.

"What?" he shouted, giving her a shake. "What did you see.'

"Your cousin has betrayed you! He met Amery here and together they took Leta from us. Oh, Radolf, I fear they goto London to tell the dowager queen!"

Radolf's eyes narrowed with his rage. "Nay, Mother, 'twas no dream. I suspected and 'tis why I came looking for him."

"He is cunning, Radolf," she warned. "They agreed it should look as though he was unwilling to go and he was bound and gagged in case someone should see them. They dressed as serfs and left only moments ago. If you hurry, you will catch them before they leave our lands. But take many with you, Radolf. Amery did not come alone."

"There is no time," he snarled, turning from her to run from the room.

He had returned to his chambers for his crossbow and helm, haphazardly thrown his fur mantle over his shoulders, and hurried back to the stables for his charger. He had decided that Amery and his men would have left their steeds tied up somewhere where no one would see them and that meant they would have to travel on foot for awhile. Having learned from his mother how his cousin and half brother had left the stables, Radolf had ridden his stallion around in back of the building on the chance that he might be able to pick up their trail in the snow. His logic had proved correct, and within minutes Radolf had spotted the group leaving the hut of the old man, Doane. Jerking his destrier around, he had headed through the woods toward a lofty position among the rocks overlooking the road to London, where Amery would not see him and where he would have a clear shot at Kennard.

Tying off his horse, Radolf had walked the rest of the way to the ledge to wait and had settled himself down between two boulders, where it would be impossible for anyone on the road to notice him. Gray clouds had moved in with the promise of more snow, and when Radolf glanced up at the sky overhead, he thought how appropriate the day had become for the kind of dark mission he had undertaken. He loved his cousin, but the man had betrayed him and was a threat to Radolf's happiness. A pained frown creased his brow as he sat there wondering what it was that had poisoned Kennard's mind against him. They had always been like brothers, sharing the same views, the same ideas, the same goals in life. What had happened to him? Was it possible his half brother had gotten to Kennard with a promise of greater rewards if he decided to ride at Amery's side? Amery! Twas always Amery! Even their father had favored him, although Edlyn had tried repeatedly to change that. On the morning of the day Ryland had died, he and Edlyn had had a bitter argument about the man's oldest son. Ryland had informed his wife that even though she might hate him for it, he planned to make amends with Amery the moment Amery returned from the Crusade and would beg his son to live with him again at Wellington Castle. He had even gone so far as to tell his wife that if she disapproved, she was free to leave. As Radolf thought about it now, he remembered questioning his mother's change of heart over the matter, for she had gone from a violent tirade to toasting her husband's health. How ironic he should die at that moment.

The pounding of horses' hooves against the road below took Radolf from his thoughts of the past. He sat up and raised his crossbow to his shoulder even before the riders came into view. Once they had, Radolf's hand trembled with his rage and hatred, for leading the group was the unmistakable figure of his half brother, and for a long moment Radolf aimed his weapon at him, his eyes narrowed and his attention focused on no one else. Then a horse whinnied, bringing him out of his daze, and he blinked. He would have preferred killing Amery here and now, but he wisely decided against it. There were too many riding with him for Radolf to kill them all before they advanced on him, but more important, if he killed Amery, he might never find Jewel, for be was sure Amery's friends would slit her throat in revenge. An evil smile parted his lips. Besides, the kind of justice he had planned for his half brother was more fitting than a quick death.

Shifting to achieve a clearer view of his victim, Radolf waited for the next rider to pass before him, knowing that once Kennard came into sight, he would only have one shot at him and only a second or two to do it. The muscles in his chest tightened with anticipation, though for a brief instant his love for his cousin threatened to send him running. Then he saw him riding with one of Amery's men, bound and gagged just as his mother had said he would be, and his anger at Kennard's betrayal overruled his conscience. Holding the crossbow steady in his hands, he whispered in a moment of weakness, "Forgive me, cousin," and squeezed the trigger.

The arrow whistled breathlessly through the air at a rapid speed and struck Kennard in the neck. He gave a strangled cry as it penetrated his flesh and buried itself in his throat, throwing hint from the stallion and onto the ground. Leta, who rode double with Stafford behind Kennard and Rickward, screamed the instant she saw the leather-tipped arrow protruding from the man's writhing body, and Amery shouted for Stafford to take Leta and get away as quickly as possible, that they would meet further on where it was safe. Each of the others drew their swords, hastily dismounted, and dashed for the cover of trees surrounding them as Stafford's charger thundered down the road away from them.

"It had to have come from up there!" Gunther pointed to the rocks high above them where Radolf had been only a moment before.

"Did anyone see him?" Amery asked, his body pressed against a tree trunk for protection as he glanced back at the man lying in the road. Kennard had stopped jerking and Amery knew he was dead, for he was certain the arrow had crushed the man's windpipe.

"Nay," Gunther said, shaking his head. "But I can guess who did this."

"Yea, 'tis Radolf 's style to hide among rocks or beneath the guise of friendship." Amery's emerald eyes quickly scanned the various nooks and crevices large enough to hide a man.

"Do you think he came alone?"

Amery was about to venture his guess when they heard the distant racing of hooves leading back toward Wellington. Scrambling out from behind a huge oak, he raced through the stand of trees with Rickward and Stafford close on his heels, up the rocky incline to the top of the knoll where he could get a clear view of the single rider galloping away from them. His chest heaving, Amery glared down at the man, certain of his identity without seeing his face.

"There will come a time very soon, half brother, when you cannot run," he vowed. "You and I will meet on even ground with no one to protect you, and I will see you pay for all you've done."

* * *

"Amery, perhaps 'tis best you and I wait while Rickward and Stafford take Leta to the dowager queen," Gunther warned as the party reined their steeds to a halt at the top of the last hill overlooking London.

A light snow had begun to fall from the dismal gray sky overhead and only seemed to add a more somber note to the bleak prospects of convincing Queen Eleanor of Amery's innocence. Kennard was to have solved that problem for him. Now they could only hope Leta's stories would sway Her Majesty, stories based on gossip among the serfs at Wellington and Harcourt. They would also offer an explanation of why Amery had brought the dead body of Radolf's cousin with him, revealing who they speculated had killed him and why. None of it was solid evidence in Amery's favor, but he had little else to offer—except his word of honor.

"Nay, Gunther." He sighed, readjusting his fur mantle over his wide shoulders as he stared up at the huge snowflakes falling all around them. "I cannot spend the rest of my days seeking the shadows. I will face what is to come with my head held high and the truth upon my lips. I have pledged my oath to my king and country, and I must now put my faith in the hands of God." He smiled softly, his green eyes sparkling as he Looked back at Gunther. "And Queen Eleanor."

"She is fair," Gunther admitted. "But know this. If her mind is closed against you for all the lies that have been spread, you will always be welcome at Burchard."

" 'Twill be difficult to do, Gunther." Amery laughed shortly. "For if she decides against me, I will find my head upon the executioner's block."

"Nay," Gunther firmly argued. " 'Twill never happen. I will bring all of Burchard to storm the king's dungeons. Thou shalt not die for something thou didst not do. I will offer my life to Queen Eleanor as proof of my faith in thee!"

Amusement gleamed in the other's eyes. "Thou forgetest, courageous one, 'tis thy name as well as mine that carries a price for the evil done at Harcourt. If my neck feels the blade, so will thine."

Gunther frowned angrily. "You treat this matter lightly, Amery! 'Tis not the court jester with whom you speak."

The humor faded from his eyes, but the smile lingered in the lopsided grin. "Yea, I know. 'Tis simply that I'm tired of fighting, tired of always having to prove myself, always having to earn respect."

"Of whom do you speak, Amery?" Gunther remarked testily. "Look around you—at those who ride with you. Are we here waiting for you to prove' yourself? Have we chosen this task because we don't respect you? Perhaps 'tis / who speak with the clown."

Amery stared at him a moment, then cast his gaze out across the city of London toward the muted golden orb of the sun hidden behind the clouds as it made its descent in the western sky. "Nay. Only a fool."

"Then come, fool," Gunther mocked. "Let us ride to visit the dowager queen and kneel before her to await her judgment."

Crossing his arm over his chest, Amery presented his companion with a slight bow, then extended his hand toward the snow-covered city. With a kick to Conan's ribs, he directed the stallion to follow Gunther's and the group of weary travelers headed for whatever fate awaited them.

Clouds of acrid smoke coming from the chimneys in the houses they passed along the way filled the air and burned their nostrils as the party guided their steeds through the streets of the city toward the royal palace. Dim lights shone through the windows and presented a peaceful setting, though it had little effect on the individuals who passed by. Their purpose in being there was extremely important and held the promise of disaster for the knight who led them. Yet none spoke of it, for each in his own way had vowed to right the wrong brought against him.

As they neared the gates of the palace, Amery reined his charger to the back of the group, allowing Rickward to speak with the guard and seek permission for them to enter, telling the man that it was urgent they speak with the dowager queen. Ordered to lay down their arms, all willingly shed their swords, then nudged their steeds through the gateway and dismounted when they were instructed to do so. While a second guard took their horses—with Kennard's body draped over one of them—in the direction of the stables, another guard motioned for them to follow him. With his helm still in place and his face turned away from the man, Amery walked in the center of his group in case the guard should look his way. It was important not to be recognized until after they had entered the palace and Queen Eleanor had been told that someone had requested an audience with her. After they had been shown to a large room with a roaring blaze in the fireplace and told food and drink would be brought to them while they waited, Rickward stopped the guard as he turned to leave and requested that the man tell the dowager queen that Rickward had news of Sir Amery, information that would be of great interest to her. Surprise showed clearly on the guard's face, and before he moved to the door, his suspicious gaze swept them all.

"I pray we are going about this in the right way," Rickward muttered once the guard had closed the door behind him on his way out. "Now that we're here, I plainly see the dangers."

"There is no other way, Rickward," Amery assured him as he slid the helm from his head and set it aside. "Those who would have told the truth about Harcourt are dead, and I must now leave the decision about my innocence to Queen Eleanor. Other than King Richard, she knows me better than anyone else." He smiled and cast Gunther a look. "Except, perhaps, this one."

"And there are times even I am confused about you,' Gunther mocked, taking off his helm and mantle and crossing to the fireplace to warm his hands. The humor faded from his blue eyes as he stared into the flames. "But not about this."

"If only someone had seen the two of you along the road to London that night," Stafford said with a sigh. "Twould put you in a place far from Harcourt and seal the truth about you."

"There was one," Gunther recalled. "A beggar." He glanced over his shoulder at Amery. "Remember?"

"Yea. But finding him would take as much time as collecting the monies we need to free our king." He settled himself down in a huge chair that hardly accommodated his wide shoulders and leaned back to think on the matter a moment, one elbow resting on the arm, his chin propped on his fist. A frown creased his brow when an idea came to mind. "Perhaps he was no beggar at all, but the one who sent word to my half brother of our return. 'Twould be the only way Radolf would have known when to attack Harcourt at just the precise moment to incriminate me."

Intrigued by the possibility of Amery's statement, Gunther straightened and faced his friend. "Yea, and perhaps Doane could—"

Suddenly the door to the room was thrown open and before any of them could react, the space was filled with guards, their swords drawn and a pledge upon their lips to kill anyone who moved. Fearing for her life, Leta began to tremble violently and gasped when one of the men roughly took her arm to drag her away from her companions.

"You," the one who seemed to be in charge said, pointing at Amery, "come with me."

Knowing that the only way he might escape this situation alive was to obey with resistance, Amery slowly came to his feet and moved toward the door. Once he had, he was seized by two of the guards and brutally shoved into the hall. Noting the direction in which they headed, Amery knew he was being escorted to the dungeon, and he could only pray that somehow word of his presence in the palace would reach the dowager queen.

With the tip of a knife blade pressed against his side by one of the two men who held his arms, Amery willingly followed the man who led the way down the long, narrow flight of stairs that seemed to go on forever. With each tread they descended, the air grew colder and more damp, and a horrible stench floated up from below to attack his nostrils, forcing him to breathe through his mouth rather than allow the odor to turn his stomach. At the bottom of the stairway was a long corridor, which they followed to the opposite end. There, the leader unlocked a cell, took down one of the torches from its holder on the wall, and pushed the heavy metal door open before waving his companions inside. Knocking Amery to his knees, one of the men then shackled Amery's wrists in iron bands that were chained to the wall.

"Twas foolish, Sir Amery," the tallest of them said, "to come here and allow thyself to be caught. And more foolish still to have slain the lord of Harcourt."

Rather than argue, for he knew the man's mind was set, Amery settled down on the straw-covered floor and leaned back against the wall to watch the trio leave his cell. They took the torch with them, and as the hinges of the door creaked shut and he heard the heavy thud of metal against framework, he found himself engulfed in darkness save for the small amount of light seeping in through the tiny barred window in the door. He stared at it for a long while, listening to the sounds of the guards' footsteps against the stone floor in the corridor until they had faded in the distance and his solitude closed in around him. Resting his head back against the wall, he shut his eyes, hoping to force himself to think of other things, and the vision of Jewel came to mind instantly. His brow furrowed with the pain he felt stabbing at his heart, and in a rage, he bolted to his feet and whirled and jerked hard against his restraints, as if the effort would award him freedom. The iron bands cut into his wrists and drew blood, but this seemed of minor consequence to the agony he imagined Jewel had suffered because of him. Arms outstretched, he fell forward with his hands braced against, the wall, his head lowered. It seemed at that moment as if everything he had ever touched in his life had been cursed because of him, and he vowed that whether it be here on earth or in the life hereafter, Radolf and his conniving mother would know the fury of his wrath.