The Princess and the Rogue (17 page)

“She moved into the entire east tower,” said Sir Brenden. He turned his head as the king emerged from his chamber, fully dressed now and armed. “Your majesty,” he said, bowing.

“Sir Brenden, we must find my daughter. Do you know where she is?”

“Sire, if Morgaine has her, it would be in the east tower. It is the most defendable part of the keep, as you know. She installed herself there with Lord Cramden’s permission.” He confirmed Roland’s thought. Morgaine would seek safety above all else.

The king shook his head. “Cramden. Why? My trusted advisor. Why did he do it?” He was both sad and genuinely puzzled.

“We don’t know, sire,” said Sir Brenden. “But it appeared as though he wanted to have himself declared regent, and from all appearances he coveted your daughter.”

“He did indeed,” said Roland. “But for the last several weeks he has lusted for an imposter placed there by Lady Morgaine.”

“An imposter?” said an incredulous Sir Brenden. The king’s face also registered shock.

“She could be a twin, given the similarity in appearance, but she is a commoner, a village orphan inserted by Cramden while the real Princess Juliet was a captive of Morgaine. Both of them are here now, and together they have created the diversion that enabled us to find you. But now, I fear they are both in Morgaine’s hands.”

“Are there others with you?” asked King Robert.

“Yes, sire. Rand LaFlors and some of his men are, at this very moment, headed for an escape passage described by your daughter. They will open it to permit reinforcements from Kingsgate to join us. Rand has many friends in Kingsgate.”

“Yes,” said the king. “He would, at that.”

Roland did not know how to interpret such a statement. Clearly though, Rand LaFlors was no common outlaw.

“Rand LaFlors,” said Robert, nodding to himself. “A most complex man, but he has, in his own way, always been an ally. And there is more to Rand LaFlors than you know.”

The king buckled his sword belt and strode forward. “Let us go. To the east tower.”

King Robert’s sudden appearance startled everyone who encountered him as he, Roland, Sir Brenden, and their men strode purposefully toward the east wing of the keep. He brushed aside questions from courtiers, friends, and strangers alike as the determined company made its way to the winding staircase that ascended the tower. Red-liveried men who saw them coming turned and ran the other way, scurrying down corridors in the levels below Morgaine’s quarters. The king and his entourage ascended the stairs and finally arrived at an anteroom, the entrance to what had, at one time, been a guard room for the tower and its interrogation room. Men-at-arms stood at attention barring the door to the inner chamber. They were joined by one who seemed to be their leader.

“We are to admit no one,” said the captain of Morgaine’s guard.

“Do you know who I am?” thundered Robert.

“I do not, sir. We are the personal guard of the Countess Morgaine. She is occupied within. No one may pass.” To emphasize his determination, he drew his sword.

“You will stand aside this moment or die,” said King Robert. “I am Robert Greystone, king of Westvale and lord of this keep.” Roland and Sir Brenden fanned out on either side, ready to do battle.

The captain looked uncertain for a moment. Confronted by the apparent ruler of this land and their host, he hesitated. Roland did not. He knew Scarlett was behind that door. Without waiting he brushed the man aside and kicked in the door while Sir Brenden’s men engaged those of Morgaine’s contingent who were foolish enough to fight.

Morgaine heard the sound of boots and angry voices outside the tower’s chamber. She whirled around, startled, as Roland burst through the door, sword drawn. He was followed by the king and Sir Brenden. Tomas Cramden stared at the king in disbelief, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

Roland’s eyes took in the scene at once. Juliet and Scarlett, their naked bodies striped with weals, were bound to flogging frames. Morgaine stood with a whip in her hand, obviously the one she had used on the girls. She, too, stared in disbelief at Roland and the king. Female attendants stood along the walls, cowering now that men with weapons had come bursting in. As for Cramden, he stood frozen to the spot, his face ashen as he beheld the king he had betrayed.

Morgaine was first to act. She dropped the whip and, drawing a dagger, moved to the front of one of the frames.

“I don’t know which one is your daughter, but unless you withdraw your men and give me safe passage, this dagger goes into this girl’s throat.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the other bound girl said, “I am your daughter, father. I can prove it.”

Morgaine’s face registered uncertainty. Did she have the commoner under her knife? Her eyes flicked from one to the other.

Roland’s eyes never left Morgaine’s face. His hand slowly crept to the short knife on his belt. He inched forward as he observed an increasingly agitated countess and her impending loss of control. He had to act, and soon.

Uncertain now, she withdrew the dagger and shifted her weight, perhaps to point the dagger’s tip at the other of the two. In that brief instant, Roland moved. He covered the distance to Morgaine in a blur, his hand coming up with his own blade. Morgaine reacted out of instinct and lunged at Roland with the dagger. Her forward rush impaled her on Roland’s knife. It entered Morgaine’s belly just below her ribcage. She gasped and looked down at the instrument of her death. Then her eyes clouded over and she fell to the floor.

Meanwhile at King Robert’s command, Sir Brenden had taken Lord Cramden prisoner.

“Unbind them and get them some clothes,” said King Robert. Roland freed Scarlett. Then he loosened the bands securing Juliet. Sir Brenden’s men found cloaks and covered their nakedness. From below in the great hall came the sounds of fighting.

“It sounds like we still have work to do,” said King Robert. “I will return, daughter.” But his confusion was apparent as he was unsure which one of the girls before him was actually Juliet. A look of consternation still on his face, he ordered several of Sir Brenden’s men to stay as guards and turned to go.

Scarlett hugged Roland and buried her face in his chest.

“Are you hurt?” he said.

“She whipped us hard, trying to get us to tell her which of us was the real princess, but we wouldn’t tell. You don’t know how glad we are to see you.”

Roland stroked her hair and kissed her. “It’s all right now. From the sound of it, Rand and his men have engaged the traitors.”

The king and Sir Brenden had left, heading toward the sounds of the conflict.

“I have to go. The king needs me. I’ll be back,” he reassured her and turned to follow.

* * *

Below, the battle for Greystone Castle raged. Nearly a hundred men had come through the tunnel with Vargus Shiv, and they had attacked Morgaine’s men wherever they found them, slowly making their way to the great hall. At first they had also been challenged by the castle guard, but word spread quickly that they fought for the princess and King Robert against Morgaine. The castle guard, now realizing that Morgaine’s men were the real enemy, rushed to Rand’s aid.

King Robert descended the stairs into the great hall. He watched the fray for a moment until several of the men noticed him. So did Morgaine’s men. They backed up, looking for an avenue of retreat. He shouted out in a loud voice:

“Put down your weapons. Your mistress is dead. Surrender now and you will not be charged as traitors.”

The fighting stopped. One by one, the crimson-liveried men of the woman who had been the red countess laid down their arms.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hours later in the great hall, Juliet and Scarlett stood before King Robert.

“It’s amazing,” said the king. “I truly don’t know which of you is my daughter.” He looked from one to other, trying to figure out which one was the princess.

Scarlett started to speak. She was going to say that the real princess stood to her right when a voice rang out from the back of the hall.

“They both are your daughters, your majesty,” said the voice.

All heads turned. The princess’s elderly attendant, her old nursemaid, Frida, had spoken. She came forward. With her was another older woman. Frida introduced her as Theda. Juliet gasped, recognizing the peasant whose home she had invaded in Darkwood Forest.

Frida continued. “At first I wasn’t sure, but now I am, thanks to Theda.”

“Dame Frida, you will explain yourself.” King Robert’s expression was one of total confusion.

“The day Queen Grace gave birth to Princess Juliet was a terrible day as you recall, m’lord.”

“Aye.” Robert recalled it well. Grace, with child and near her time, had been with him. They had been on the run, retreating with a remnant of his army, driven from the fortress at High Rocks by an Ieryn force. On top of that, it had started to storm. Thunder boomed, lightning lit up the skies, and rain fell in torrents. And Graciela had announced her time. A shelter had been hastily prepared and a midwife from a nearby village had been sent for. He had waited in the rain while his Grace had labored.

Theda spoke. “On that day, I was engaged as a midwife to deliver a child, your majesty. It was your queen who was in labor. Your wife’s delivery was arduous as you know.”

Robert nodded. It had been hours of labor under hellish conditions.

“When the baby came, there was not one but two. But one appeared to be stillborn. She wasn’t breathing. Your wife was devastated. She made me swear that I’d never tell. She did not want you to know she’d lost a child. I gave the body to a young maid who had come to assist me, and I told her to bury the child’s body in the forest. She left to do as she was told. The young woman, I later learned, was barren. She and her husband could not conceive. But after that I also found out that she had a child. When I confronted her, and got a look at the little girl, she admitted that the child, your child, had not been dead after all. But she and her husband had decided to keep the little one as their own and never share their secret with anyone. I am sorry, sire, but I was not certain of the child’s parentage, and I did not know what I should do. How could a woman like me hope to convince a royal family of the truth of such a tale? So all these years I have kept silent.

“Later our village was attacked by coastal raiders and I fled into Darkwood Forest. One day I found that same little girl wandering in the forest and I realized that the woman and her husband had likely been killed by the raiders. But I was too ill to take care of her myself, so I took her to the sisters of St. Agnes.

“Then came the day not long ago when Princess Juliet broke into my hut. When I saw her I began to suspect who she was, for she looked exactly like the girl I knew as Scarlett, the one I had given to the sisters to raise, and who I saw for years after that in the forest and in the village.”

Robert listened to the story in stunned silence. “Is this true? Could this possibly be true?”

“She is your daughter, King Robert,” said Frida.

Scarlett had been listening, too, and she turned and looked at Juliet. Her sister? And King Robert, her father? It couldn’t be, she decided.

“I… I am just a commoner, your majesty. This is Princess Juliet,” she said, gesturing with her hand. “It is true. I was raised by the sisters of St. Agnes, but of my parents I know little.”

“There is a way to know for sure,” said Theda. “I am just an old woman and my memory fades from time to time, but I remember that night. And one thing I remember is that the baby we thought stillborn had a birthmark on the inside of her left thigh. I remember that.”

“I suggest, sire, that we examine this girl,” said Frida. “We will tell you what we find.” Scarlett cast a long look over her shoulder at Roland as she followed Dame Frida. Did she dare hope? What she saw on her lover’s face was a confident smile.

* * *

Sir Roland watched them leave to conduct the examination. He smiled to himself. He knew. For he had seen that birthmark. And had kissed it. He had thought it just as lovely as the rest of her. It was an activity he hoped to repeat many times in the future. He shook his head, chuckling, amazed at the turn of events. It was ironic. Richard had suggested that upon his arrival at Greystone Castle he would meet a royal princess. He didn’t know how right he had been.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Darkwood Castle

Princess Juliet, daughter of Robert Greystone, duchess of Darkwood and its surrounding lands, was not happy. She stood quite naked in the corner of her marriage bedchamber and faced the wall. She waited for her husband, the duke, so she had some time to reflect on her circumstances.

It had been six months since the double wedding that bound her to Rand LaFlors, and her sister, Scarlett, to Sir Roland Ferris. Sir Roland had been made the king’s high minister. Rand had been given the castle and lands that had belonged to Morgaine, his followers had been pardoned, and he had been made a duke.

The newly married couple had taken up residence in the former Bathen Castle, now Castle Darkwood, to begin their new lives together. It had been a heady undertaking. She would manage the household and help her husband administer the lands. He was to shore up the western border of Westvale to help in repelling any encroachment by Ieryn raiders. The new duke and son-in-law had Robert’s blessing and a portion of his army.

He also had Juliet, and for that she was grateful, for she was head over heels in love with the man who had rescued her from her abductors and devised a plan to save her father’s life and his kingdom. But his discipline was a different thing altogether. Juliet pouted as she waited. She had been used to getting her own way most of her life, and that included riding whenever and wherever she pleased. Her husband took a different view of things. “The lands around here are wilder than in the east, Juliet. You may ride, but only with my permission and only in certain areas. And stay out of Darkwood Forest.”