Juliana Garnett (42 page)

Hesitantly, Gareth informed Rolf that one of the men he’d sent as messenger to warn the nunnery of approaching troops had been found mortally wounded and died before anything useful could be learned. He had been found south of Dragonwyck, whereas Gedney lay to the east, near the rocky coast and several leagues from the castle. It was unknown whether he had succeeded in warning those in the nunnery.

Now, with the evidence of the nunnery’s destruction, Guy was forced to agree with Rolf’s earlier prediction that forces had ranged toward the south and west. This would indicate that if Annice had been abducted, she was being taken into the midlands of England. If, in truth, she was still alive.

“She is highborn, milord,” Guy said, and knew from the
sharp turn of Rolf’s head that he was thinking the same thing. “If taken, she would not be slain, but held for ransom.”

“Yea. And who would pay the most for her, do you think?” Rolf’s fist moved from his saddle to take up his reins. His mouth set into a straight slash, and fierce anger sparked his eyes to an unholy green. Guy was not at all surprised to hear him say through clenched teeth, “No ransom demands have been sent to me. I vow that Thurston of Seabrook has her.”

It was, Guy thought, highly probable.

“ ’Tis just as well,” Rolf growled. “I will take back what is mine, both my son and my wife, and Thurston will rue the day he ever dared keep Justin from me. Nothing will keep me from him now.”

Shivering, Annice huddled in a corner of the damp cell into which she’d been thrust. Straw littered the floor at her feet, and she heard the furtive noises of rats in the shadows. Occasionally one of them would grow bold enough to slink out from the shadows and approach, red eyes gleaming dully Using her boot as a weapon, she had killed two before they grew more cautious.

Though she’d been given little enough to eat, fierce hatred and defiance fueled her determination to survive. Thurston had been most pleased to see her again. His smirk of pleasure when she had been brought before him had sparked the dislike she’d always felt for him into a towering blaze of hatred.

“Ah, now I have both of you,” Thurston had crowed with glee as she’d stood in his hall with her chin tilted defiantly. “I have the Dragon’s mate as well as his get. Yea, this will bring him to his end swiftly.”

“More like,” she’d retorted, “he will slay you outright this time. With the king dead and no man to stay le Draca’s sword, you will soon meet your own justice, Lord Thurston. Why do you think he has not slain you before now? Because he is afraid? Because he cannot? Nay, ’twas only John who
held him in thrall, and that thralldom is ended with the king’s death.”

At her husband’s side Alais had made a sound of dismay and fear, turning to Thurston. “She is right! My lord, we are undone if the Dragon comes.… Release her to him, and do not risk our lives for the sake of vengeance.”

Even her cousin’s pleas had not swayed Thurston, and Annice had been imprisoned below the keep in a damp, foul cell. She prayed for strength to last until Rolf could come for her, and prayed for the safety of his son. Thurston’s triumph had been dimmed by her refusal to cower or show fear, and she had recognized that beneath his sneering facade lay a man who had come to the realization that he might well have courted death with his rash acts.

Closing her eyes, she tucked her hands into the folds of her gown to warm them. The rough wool of a novice nun was not as soft, but much warmer than her silk gowns would have been. She was glad the abbess had insisted upon her wearing it. The abbess—were they all slain? And sweet Belle, too? She didn’t know. Things had happened so swiftly, and there had been so much chaos. She uttered a prayer.

Her stomach rumbled, and the sound drew a rat closer. She could hear its feet scrabbling on stone and straw and opened her eyes a slit to see. The glitter from beady eyes warned her, and when it drew close, she aimed a lethal boot heel at the rodent. She missed, and it scurried away with angry squeaks of alarm.

Jésu
, now it was still alive to come again. She settled her shoulder blades back against the damp stone wall and waited. If not for her continual battle with the rats, she might have gone mad with fear and worry. This battle of wits was a distraction and kept her from dwelling too long on her possible fate. Rolf would come. She held tight to that certainty, for to despair would mean death.

The Dragon would come—and with him, her liberation, life, and love. Yea, he had never failed her, and he would not fail now. He would come to Stoneham Castle to take his wife and his son, and they would all go safely home to Dragonwyck.

With that hope steady in her mind and heart, Annice gradually succumbed to uneasy slumber. She slept in only fits and spurts now, ever wary of the rats who would nibble her feet and arms if she slept too deeply.

Dream fragments haunted her at times, visions of the past days of terror jerking her awake. Images swam before her, flashes of people and events—Rolf, Sir Guy, Belle, and even Gowain, the huntsman, appeared at times. In the ensuing chaos she hoped the huntsman had slipped away into the woods. She could only pray that Gowain had got through safely and managed to tell Gareth of her straits.

Deeper into the dungeons, she heard a muffled scream, and shuddered. Thurston had many people imprisoned within his keep. She caught glimpses of them on the brief occasions when she was taken from her cell, and heard moans and sobs in the murky gloom. Yet even with the chilling sounds of other tormented souls, she felt as isolated as if totally alone. Her brief attempts to communicate with others in the cells had been futile. No one dared reply, and a burly guard had come along to kick the door of her cell and bellow threats of violence should she not be quiet. The occasional shriek of agony that she heard was evidence enough against foolish defiance, and so she’d crept back to her corner to wait for the rats.

Hugging her knees close to her body, she thought now of all the days she had spent in the comfortable chambers above. Padded bolsters for the chairs, plush eastern carpets, embroidered silk hangings, and long tables burdened with tempting food that she had usually scorned. She recalled Thurston’s hearty morning meals. Hunger gnawed her stomach daily, when once she had spurned the platters of white bread, broken meats, and fresh vegetables and fruit. Now an apple would have made her weak with delight.

A loud scratching jerked her from her dreams of food, and she tensed. A rat. And this one must be huge, for it sounded as if it had long claws like a cat. She reached down, fumbling for her boot.

Then a hiss sounded, unlike any rat she had yet heard. She froze, hand still on the buckle of her boot. The sound was louder, and this time she heard it distinctly.

“Cousin! Annice.…”

Alais
.

Scrambling to her feet, Annice stumbled to the door and peered through the tiny barred opening. Feeble light from a wall torch glowed on pale hair, and she recognized her cousin’s features. She curled her hands around the slender bars and pressed close to the grate.

“Alais—have you come to free me?”

“I cannot,” Alais said, her voice a helpless, frightened gasp. She glanced around her wildly. “If Thurston discovers that I have even been down here … I had to bribe the guard with my favorite gold clasp. I also told him that if he said I was here, I would call him a liar and have his eyes removed.” She stepped closer to the grating, peering inside. Her nose wrinkled with disgust. “
Jésu
—how do you stand it in there? It smells foul.”

“Yea, and so it is,” Annice said sharply. Exasperation battled with common sense. She could not alienate her best hope for assistance. “What news have you, Alais? Has my lord sent word?”

Alais shook her head. “Nay. Which is rather a relief, as I greatly fear le Draca.”

“Rolf would not harm you, unless, of course, you were to harm me or his son.” Annice paused to allow that to sink in, then said, “He will come for me. The Dragon would never allow Thurston to keep us now. Is it true? About the king?”

“Being dead? Yea, ’tis true.” Alais sounded petulant. “John’s death has certainly ended my husband’s plans. He intended to sway his forces to the king’s side, you know.”

Annice did not point out that Alais’s admission was made easily enough now, when the king was dead. She rose to her toes to whisper, “Alais, you must get a message to Rolf. He must know where I am. Please. You are my cousin, my blood.”

Alarm creased Alais’s perfect features. “But if Thurston was to find out, he would beat me! Or lock me away. Nay, ’tis too dangerous. Besides, what assurance would I have that your beast of a husband would not slay me once he arrived? None.”

Taking a deep breath, Annice said calmly, “Rolf is no beast. He is a fair, just lord, and his people all love and respect him. None have cause for complaint. The only men in his dungeons are felons who belong there.”

Alais frowned. “I do not care about the people on his lands. And the people imprisoned here are debtors for the most part, who refuse to pay their rightful taxes.” She paused thoughtfully. “I did try to help you.”

“Oh? And what did Lord Thurston say to freeing me?”

“Thurston? Oh, I didn’t mean now. I meant last year, when you had been forced into marriage with the Dragon. I sent men to your rescue, but they were unsuccessful. I am sorry. I tried to aid you, but the men were incompetent fools. They waited until after the wedding, and then … well, it’s of no consequence now.” She leaned closer. “I just wanted to tell you that I do care about you, and I did try to help.”

Startled by her revelation, Annice could not respond for a moment. Then she asked, “Who did you send to my aid?”

“Oh, Sir Simon de Roget. I always thought him to be honorable, but I vow, I think the man bungled it a’purpose. He claims ’twas others who erred. Something about not getting his orders right. And I paid him most handsomely aforehand to secure your safety.” She looked down with a frown and made a face. “Holy Mary—there is some kind of noxious sludge soiling my shoes.… How do you stand it down here?”

“ ’Tis not easy.” Annice smothered an exclamation with no small effort. “Alais—if you cannot aid me, at least send word to Rolf where I am. He must know.”

Dismay clouded Alais’s face. “I will do what I can. I make no promises.” Her wide eyes narrowed slightly. “If the Dragon comes for you, you will not allow him to harm me?”

Ever-selfish Alais, thinking of her own plight—though she did manage small kindnesses, at times, with a casually generous hand and indifferent heart. Annice shook her head.

“No harm will come to you at le Draca’s hand, that I vow. He has never lifted a hand to me, though he has had cause several times.”

Alais widened her eyes. “He has never beat you?”

“Nay. Though betimes he has threatened it.”

Alais shook her head doubtfully. “I will do what I can,” she repeated after a moment. Then her eyes brightened. “I almost forgot.”

Reaching into the folds of her cloak, she brought out a small cloth bag and held it up. It was too large to fit through the grating, so she tugged open the drawstring securing the neck.

“I brought you a few things from the table. The food in here cannot be very pleasant.”

“Almost nonexistent,” Annice agreed dryly. Her mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled loudly as she detected the odors of roast meat and bread. Alais had brought cheese, also, and two oranges. These she stuffed through the bars of the grating, muttering imprecations at the thoughtlessness of men who would form a grate too small.

Immediately stuffing a chunk of bread into her mouth, Annice vowed she would never again take food for granted. She ate several bites, then asked, “What of Justin?”

“Who?”

“The Dragon’s son.” She swallowed a sliver of cheese and tucked the rest of the food into the cloth bag Alais shoved through the bars for her. If she could keep it from the rats, she would have food for later. “Justin, Alais—what news of him?”

Shrugging, Alais said, “He is still in the nursery, I suppose. I saw him when I went to visit—oh, p’raps you do not know. I have another child. A boy, finally. Thurston was most pleased and gave me a snow-white palfrey and an emerald necklace when he was born. It’s really beautiful, with huge stones and an ornate setting.”

Annice opened her mouth, then shut it again. Alais would never change. Wondering how many bastards Thurston had from his legion of willing and unwilling mistresses, Annice murmured her congratulations to her poor cousin.

Then she said, “Alais, you must do something for me. Wait before you say me nay, it is vital that you listen. Justin. He is just an innocent child. You must promise me that no
matter what happens with me, you will see that Justin is taken to his father. Do that for me, Alais.”

“What is he to you?” Alais countered with a frown. “The boy belongs to the Dragon. What do you care about his fate?”

“I love Rolf. And I felt great affection for his son even before I felt love for my husband. I know you are in an awkward position, but you will find a way to do it. You are clever, far more clever than Thurston knows. You try to hide it with your gossip and overweening vanity, but I know that there is much more to you than you show the world, Alais. Care for Justin. Keep him safe from Thurston, and I will see to it that Rolf rewards you for it.”

Alais fiddled with the gold-encrusted threads of embroidery edging her sleeves, frowning. Then she looked up, and Annice saw a flash of something in her eyes as she said, “Very well. I will do what I can.”

Before she could ask more questions, the guard intervened, stepping up to inform Alais that she must go before the other guards came on duty. He glanced inside at Annice, then back to his lady, twirling the ring of keys on one finger as he waited.

Alais whispered a swift farewell, then lifted the hem of her gown with a mutter of disgust as she followed the guard. Annice could hear her remonstrating with him on the foul condition of the stones as they traversed the long, dim hallway to the far door. She smiled faintly. Would Alais even remember her promise? Or would she think it too risky and decide to stay safely uninvolved? There was always the chance she would be too afraid. But it was more than Annice had expected even to find her cousin at the cell door, and at least she had a bag of food to lessen the aching pains of hunger.