Suzanne Robinson (22 page)

Approaching her with caution, Galen asked, “Has your mistress returned?”

“No, me lord. Thought she was with you. Here, what do you mean where is she? You don’t know? Have you lost her?”

“No, no, no.” Galen backed away. “We seemed to have—um—missed each other.”

Jacoba’s ruddy face settled into a bull-like expression. “Begging your pardon, me lord, but I don’t see as how that could happen. She knew right where you was going.” She followed him to the stair landing as he backed away, her head cocked to the side. “What’ve you done with her?”

“Naught. I’ve done nothing. I’ll find her. Pray go about your business, my good woman.”

He was unprepared when Jacoba pounced on him. She pushed him against the banister and thrust her face close to his.

“She rode out special to tell you something important, she did. And now you come skulking back without her. What did you do? If you’ve hurt her, I’ll give you such a beating, lord or no.”

Jacoba raised her fist and leaned over him. Galen bent back over the banister, glancing at the long drop to the hall below. His eyes widened, and he dodged aside, retreating down several steps. Jacoba came after him.

“All right!” He raised his hands in surrender. “We had a misunderstanding. It was my fault, and I wish to prostrate myself at her feet. Does that satisfy you?”

“No,” Jacoba snapped. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She ran away.”

Jacoba stopped on the third step and folded her substantial arms across her even more substantial chest. “Then she don’t want to be found, and I ain’t helping you.”

“Look out the window, woman. Dusk approaches, and neither my brothers nor I have been able to find her. She was terribly distressed when she left Durance Guarde. Something could have happened to her.”

The hard look left Jacoba’s face. “ ’Ow long’s she been gone?”

Galen ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It seems like hours and hours.” He slumped
down on a step and put his face in his hands. “I’m such a miserable arse.”

“Humph. I ain’t disagreeing.”

Galen didn’t bother replying. He was staring at his boots, trying to think, when Jacoba surprised him by sitting down next to him.

“You look as sick as a ewe with a breeched lamb.” She studied him some more, then said, “Reckon you’re not going away, are you?”

“Never.”

“If you’ve hurt her, she’ll shut herself up and go all cold inside. Mighty hard to get to her through that mountain o’ ice.”

“I don’t care how hard it is.”

Jacoba examined his face for a long while, then whacked him on the back.

“Ouch!”

“You might just be worthy of her after all.”

“I doubt that.”

“Me too, but she wants you, so I got no choice. I’ll just have to see to it that you don’t disappoint her no more. Her first husband was an arse, you know.” Jacoba looked at him sideways. “Speaking of arses, Lord Aymer spent a lot o’ time inna guarderobe lots of times being sick after he done something mean to her. Had some painful bouts regarding his digestion, did Lord Aymer.”

“I shall remember that,” Galen said. “Now, Mistress Jacoba, will you help me?”

Jacoba scratched beneath her headscarf. “When
she left Lady Honor said she had something particular urgent to tell you.”

“What?”

“Don’t know. She talked to Perkin, Theodoric, and Master Baldwin in the record storeroom for a bit. Then she came downstairs, and I could see she was excited. She left right quick.”

Galen thought quickly, and as he did, his anxiety turned to dread. Honor must have discovered something important about Aymer’s murder after he left her. What if she’d betrayed herself to the guilty one? God’s mercy, there might be more to her disappearance than just that abysmal confrontation at Durance Guarde.

Fighting back panic, Galen looked at Jacoba. “If Honor is upset, where does she go?”

“If me lady is really upset, she prays in the chapel.”

Galen rose and hurried downstairs with Jacoba trundling after him. They almost ran across the ward. The sun was beginning to sink below the battlements as they entered the chapel, where Theodoric and the Stafford chaplain were preparing for vespers. The two clergymen turned around as Galen and Jacoba rushed in. They skittered to a halt at the disapproving looks they received. Kneeling, they crossed themselves, and got up again.

Galen hissed at Jacoba, “She’s not here.”

The waiting woman grasped his sleeve and
tugged him outside. “This ain’t like her. If she was terrible hurt, she’d be in there.”

They stood outside the chapel beneath its stained-glass windows, each at a loss. Galen leaned against the stone wall below the window and glared at the piggery, his anxiety growing with each passing moment. Then he gave the falcon mews a scowl. Suddenly he charged toward the stables. Jacoba ran after him.

“Where are you going, me lord?”

“Mayhap she’s returned and we missed her.”

He rushed inside to find Wilfred putting hay in the mangers while another groom filled water troughs. The stall that sheltered Honor’s mare was empty. His heart pounding, Galen headed outside.

“By my faith, I hate this,” he muttered. “She’s upset enough and stubborn enough to remain out all night.” He ran a hand through his hair, forgetting he wasn’t alone. “There’s no telling what’s happened to her.”

Luckily the waiting woman mistook his meaning. “Afraid you’re right, me lord. She was that determined to get you out of Durance Guarde. Traipsed all through that demon-infested forest at night, dragging us with her.”

Galen almost smiled as he thought of Honor haunting the ruins in her ragged white gown. He stopped suddenly and looked at Jacoba. “Durance Guarde.”

“Aye, me lord?”

“She’s a clever little devil. She knew we’d be
looking for her everywhere but the place she ran from.”

Jacoba grinned at him. “I vow you’re right, me lord.”

Galen whirled around and hurried to the stables again. He had to find Honor. He was certain she’d blundered into danger. He could almost feel it like a vision. A vision. An image of Honor and a tower threatened to drown him in images of death. He fought off the vision with a desperation that gave him a strength he’d never had before. There was no time for visions or dithering over what to do. He glanced at Jacoba as they entered the stables.

“When my brothers return, tell them where I’ve gone.”

“I will, me lord. You just bring her back safe.”

“Fear not, Jacoba. I’m not coming back without her.”

He took a fresh horse and, riding recklessly, covered the distance to Durance Guarde in half the time it usually took. Still, when he rode into the bailey it was dark. He didn’t see Honor’s mare, but she might have hidden the animal as a precaution against his return. Where would she go to lick her wounds? Not Berengar’s Tower, where he had been, but the image of a tower kept thrusting itself into his mind. But which one? Which would Honor chose?

“Rowena’s Tower, by my faith.”

Galen ran into the dark keep, but was forced to search for a torch to light his way. He found one
and ran through the vast ruin as fast as he could without causing the light to go out, a feeling of urgent danger driving him on. He reached Rowena’s Tower and burst into the lady’s chamber only to find it deserted. His heart felt like it dropped to his boots. His shoulders slumped, and he walked over to the window at which Honor had posed as Rowena’s ghost. Thrusting the torch into a sconce, he propped a shoulder against the window and stared across the empty space that separated this tower from Berengar’s.

Just as he was contemplating the possibility that he could lose Honor forever, the moon rose over Berengar’s Tower. Wisps of clouds sailed across the brilliant orb as it crested the battlements. Galen shoved himself erect as the clouds drifted past and the moon shone brighter, revealing a figure in silhouette against the white disk.

He knew that curved figure; it was etched inside his mind more indelibly than the carving on his sword hilt. He opened his mouth, but before he could call out, Honor moved. She was moving backward. Then he saw the second figure, taller, male. Suddenly it rushed at her. Galen shouted, but his cry was drowned by Honor’s. He raced out of Rowena’s chamber and hurtled into Berengar’s Tower. Taking the steps three at once, he was breathless by the time he climbed the ladder to the roof. He burst outside, into a stiff breeze, his gaze darting around the circular space. The man had
backed Honor against the battlements, and Galen rushed at them as he heard her strangled cries.

His pounding footsteps must have warned the attacker, for he turned at the last moment. Too late Galen saw the club in his hand. He tried to dodge the blow, but the weapon caught him on the side of his head. The impact stunned him, and when he could see again, the attacker was standing over him, the club raised for a deathblow.

Galen gasped and rolled as the club struck. As he moved he heard a small roar, then a shriek from the attacker. He got up and saw Honor clinging to the man’s back. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist and was tearing at his hair, trying to scratch his eyes.

Galen stumbled toward them, drawing his sword, when Honor bit the man’s ear. The man bellowed, dropped the club and thrashed about, trying to get a grip on her head. He threw himself backward, bashing Honor against the battlements. Her head hit stone, and she collapsed.

Galen reached them, but the attacker had time to draw his blade. Still dazed, Galen couldn’t see the man’s face clearly. His held his sword before him, but the attacker’s weapon slipped under his guard. Galen felt the blade slide along his, and knew he’d misjudged fatally.

At the last moment, Honor threw herself forward, grabbed the attacker’s ankle, and pulled with all her strength. The man lost his balance, lunged
downward, and Galen lifted his sword. The tip pierced cloth and flesh, and the attacker impaled himself. Galen felt the weight of the body, and with instincts honed on too many battlefields, he stepped back and pulled his blade free, then pointed it at the wounded man.

His adversary dropped his weapon and clutched his belly. He stared at Galen with a surprised look, dropped to his knees, and fell facedown. Blinking to clear his vision, Galen didn’t spare the dead man much of a look before whipping around to make certain there were no more opponents on the roof.

Finally his gaze found Honor, who had clawed her way to her feet and was standing there gasping and sobbing. They stared at each other in astonishment for a few moments, then Honor cried out and rushed into his arms. Galen dropped his sword and caught her, dragging her against him and pressing her head to his shoulder while she shivered and sobbed. He buried his face in her hair.

“It’s over, my love. You’re safe. He’s dead. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear it.”

Thoughts flitted through his head. This time he hadn’t been too late. This time he’d saved what was most precious to him. Relief flooded through him, making his legs unsteady and his head dizzy. He held Honor even tighter and whispered a prayer of thanks.

After a while Honor stopped crying. She straightened and looked over his shoulder. He turned with
her and got his first clear glimpse of the attacker’s face. He looked at Honor.

“Master Baldwin? But …”

“H-he hated Aymer for seducing his daughter and not caring for her after she became with child.” Honor drew in a long breath. “After you left I was thinking about the accounts and what you’d said about your vision, about seeing spices and bricks and hoes and such, and it came to me. Who deals with all of those things? The person who pays for them—the steward.”

“Dear God, Honor.”

“Baldwin kept saying how sorry he was that he had to kill me.” Honor’s lips trembled, but she continued. “He blamed Aymer for her death. He said if Aymer had provided for her she wouldn’t have had to be a servant, and she wouldn’t have fallen into that vat and been scalded to death. And, of course, he hated it that Aymer never admitted that Dagobert was his. He s-said that he didn’t want to kill me, but he couldn’t risk being caught.”

Leaning against Galen wearily, she said, “The poor man grew demented thinking about the horror of his daughter’s death and how unfair Aymer had been to Dagobert. He kept saying Dagobert could have been a nobleman.”

“You’re right,” Galen said. “He must have been a little mad. God’s mercy, Honor, I told you not to make inquiries without me. If I hadn’t decided to come back here, he would have killed you. Never do something like that again.” He went silent
when Honor stiffened. He could see her face grow rigid and chilly.

She separated herself from him and drew an unsteady breath. “You no longer have the right to give me orders or to scold, my lord. I’m grateful to you for saving my life, but nothing else has changed between us.”

“Damnation, Honor.”

She regarded him with a distant gaze she wouldn’t have been able to summon only a few moments ago. “I know why we never found Aymer’s body.”

“What?”

Honor wiped perspiration from her forehead with the sleeve of her gown. “I remembered you mentioned bricks were a part of your vision, but only after I looked again at this list.” With unsteady hands she drew the scrap of parchment from her sleeve.

“You’re not making sense, my love.”

“Don’t call me that.” Honor walked toward the ladder. “I’m too weary to talk now. Baldwin followed me here and lay in wait until he saw me wander far away from you and your brothers. Then he pounced on me. He hid until your brothers went away, and then brought me here to kill me. I’m going home. We can speak more of this tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow is—”

“A day like any other, thanks to you. Except that I’ll have to tell Dagobert that his grandfather is dead. I’ll send someone to retrieve the body in the morning.”

Galen tried without success to talk to Honor several times while they retrieved the horses from Baldwin’s hiding place and headed back to the castle. Sore in body, dispirited and fearful, Galen watched Honor’s set features. He knew her well enough to recognize what an effort it was for her to remain calm and removed, but she did it. They reached Castle Stafford to face the curiosity of his family and Sir Walter. Honor only stayed long enough to tell them of Baldwin’s death, if not the details. Then she left Galen to explain the circumstances of her long absence and ascended the stairs to her room.