The Whispering Night (12 page)

“Do you truly wish to
know?”

“I would not have asked
otherwise.”

She smiled faintly, a
gesture shaped somewhat like her brother’s. “I would suggest you plan carefully
for this, Garren. You must not make any rash decisions.”

“What plans do you
suggest?”

Gabrielle folded her
hands. “You cannot return to Framlingham for her. They would kill you. You
cannot storm the castle, as you cannot amass enough men in a short amount of
time. So it is logical that perhaps you know of someone, a trusted friend or
knight, who could infiltrate Framlingham and whisk her from the castle.  Do you
know of someone?”

Garren was listening
intently. “I do. Then what?”

“Have them bring her
here, to me. That way, if her family tracks her, it would lead to the abbey and
not even the de Rosa’s would dare breach the sanctity of the abbey.  I will
keep her here with me until you come for her.”

“Where am I going to
be?”

“After you tell the
Marshall that you no longer wish to be an agent for the king, you will find a
place for you and your wife to live. You cannot run the rest of your lives.
Find a place in Scotland or Wales, something well off the path and fortified,
and take her there. Swear fealty to whichever king you wish, raise a sizable
force and recruit bachelor knights, and live there with your lady for the rest
of your life. If that is what you wish, Garren, then make it so.”

Garren just stood there
and smiled. “A sound enough plan, madam. How is it that your mind works so?”

“My brother taught me.”

Garren knelt down beside
her again, kissing her softly on the cheek. “I am glad to have come to you,” he
said softly. “You help me to think clearly when my entire world is in turmoil.”

Gabrielle patted his
hand. “You have no time to waste, Garren. I suspect even now that your lady is
living anxiously. If she supported you against her family, she cannot be in
their good graces. The sooner she is removed from Framlingham, the better. The
sooner you are reunited with her, the better.”

Garren collected his
saddlebags, his mind was racing with possibilities, of hope, where moments
before there had been none. He had another mission now, perhaps greater than
any he had ever undertaken. He took his sister’s hand, trying to think of the
proper words of gratitude.

“To express my thanks
seems quite inadequate,” he said simply.

She waved him off. “None
needed, Garren.”

“I do not know when I
shall return. I do not know when Derica will arrive. Of the future, I can say
nothing for certain. Only that I will do my very best.”

“I know you will. And I
shall be prepared for any event. I shall welcome it.”

He gave her hand a
squeeze before quitting the room, marching into the early morning light with
more purpose he had ever felt in his life.  Back in the small chamber,
Gabrielle swore she could hear his charger race off even though she knew she
could not. She sat there, wondering if she had given him advice that would end
his life.  But the man’s heart was in turmoil, and she gave the only advice she
knew she could.

There was nothing to do
now but wait.

***

Garren had known Fergus
de Edwin since they had been boys. They had fostered together at Sandhurst
Castle and had formed a friendship that had lasted all of these years.  They
had served together, and at times had gone years without seeing one another,
but somehow they always found each other again. Garren knew, in any
circumstance, that Fergus was the only man who would postpone his own funeral
if Garren needed him. That manner of friendship was few and far between, and
Garren valued it.

Fergus was a bachelor
knight and something of a free spirit. His fealty shifted from time to time
with different lords. His cause also happened to be any cause that Garren had,
and at the moment, Garren needed his friend desperately for a cause that he
never thought he would support. In this crisis, Garren could only turn to one
man.

Fortunately for Garren, he
had last heard that his friend happened to be serving Walter de Lacy at Longton
Castle in Herefordshire. The nearby village, Haverhill, was a two-day’s ride
from Framlingham. Garren had taken a room in a tavern in Haverhill and found a
youth to run a message to the castle. It was the middle of the night by the
time he sent the message.

He suspected it would be
dawn before Fergus arrived, if he was even still at Longton. Having not slept
in well over two days, Garren stripped off his armor and fell down on the bed
of his rented room.  The straw inside the mattress was damp and old, but he
didn’t care. He was beyond exhausted and asleep before he realized it.

As a knight, his life
depended upon his reflexes. Knights were notorious for sleeping lightly. But
the sun was up and there was someone in his room before he was fully oriented.
His sword was near his hand and the blade came up. He heard it clang against
metal, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a yelp. Rolling off the
opposite side of the bed in a flash, he saw a man with bright blue eyes
standing on the other side, rubbing his left arm.

A bolt of relief ran
through Garren and he lowered the sword. “Christ,” he muttered. “Fergus, you
idiot….”

Fergus stood there,
still rubbing his arm. “Did you have to try and cut my head off?” he
complained. “You send for me and this is the welcome I receive? Even from you,
that is cold.”

Garren tossed the sword
on the bed and wearily scratched his head. “What did you expect, sneaking into
my room? I will wager that you were standing over me trying to decide how best
to smother me as I slept.”

Fergus broke into a wide
grin. Garren did the same. The men embraced each other as one would a brother.

“You’re as ugly as ever,
Garren.”

“And you’re still as
stupid as I remember.” Garren rubbed the sleep out of one eye and indicated the
only chair in the room. “Please, sit. So you’re still at Longton, after all?”

Fergus took the chair as
Garren lowered himself back onto the bed. Fergus was a nice looking man with
brilliant blue eyes and dark blond hair. His teeth protruded slightly and his
skin was rough from sun and cold. He shrugged to Garren’s assertion.

“De Lacy is fond of me
and pays me well,” he said. “I have no reason to leave yet. And you? Last I
heard, you were wandering somewhere between Dover and Hastings.”

“I still am.”

“So why are you in
Herefordshire?”

“Up until yesterday, I
was to marry a local heiress.”

Fergus’ eyebrows lifted;
he liked money. “Is that so? What did you do to make her break the betrothal?”

Fergus snickered at
Garren’s expense. Garren grinned at his friend’s sense of humor. “It wasn’t
her, but her father. Seems he didn’t take too kindly to me, after all.”

“Do tell.”

Garren’s smile faded and
the conversation took a serious turn. He explained everything, from the
beginning. Fergus had no knowledge, nor had he ever, of Garren’s true vocation,
so the details about the Marshall were left out. For all Fergus knew, Garren’s
father had negotiated a marriage contract, which was broken when the de Rosa’s
concocted some foolish story about Garren being a spy for the king. Garren made
sure to point out, without much embellishment, how suspicious the clan was and
how protective they were of Derica.

Fergus was grim. “So you
want revenge for them breaking the contract?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I want her.”

Fergus didn’t quite
understand. “You want her? But why? Lady Derica without the inheritance is
hardly worth the trouble.”

“You don’t understand,
Fergus. I am in love with her.”

Fergus looked shocked.
“I see,” he muttered. “Are you sure, Garren?”

“I am.”

“Perhaps it was
something you ate. It made you ill and affected your thoughts. Perhaps you
simply think you are in love with her.”

Garren grinned. “I am
fairly certain that it is not my imagination.”

“A spell, then. She cast
a spell to bewitch you.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“But love,” Fergus stood
up. “Garren, you of all people cannot succumb to something that makes the
strongest of men weak and ineffectual. Love has destroyed more lives and
kingdoms throughout the ages than can be counted. Are you not terrified?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let me help you,”
Fergus grasped his arm. “Let me beat it out of you. I shall not let this
destroy you, Garren, I promise.”

Garren laughed as his
friend tried to jerk him off the bed. “You can’t beat it out of me. But if you
don’t let go of me, you’re going to get a beating of your own.”

“I am trying to help
you. Do not resist me, you fool.”

“Fergus, trust me. This
isn’t something that can be bashed away with a fist or reversed with magic charms. 
It is something deep inside that can never be erased.”

Fergus let go of him.
“Something has indeed happened to you, my friend. The Garren le Mon I have
known all of these years would never speak like that.”

“The Garren le Mon you
knew no longer exists,” Garren said quietly. “This is serious. I need your
help.”

Fergus cast him a long
look as he reclaimed his chair. “I see. So you sent for me not to socialize and
become disgustingly drunk as we remember old times, but to put me into
service.”

“Aye.”

He signed with
exaggeration. “Very well. What will you have me do?”

“Go to Framlingham and
abduct Derica for me.”

“And then can we get
disgustingly drunk?”

“I shall buy you your
own winery.”

Fergus grinned. “For my
own winery, I would abduct the Queen herself.” He sobered, his manner serious
for the first time since his arrival. Things like abductions, raids and sieges
didn’t bother him in the least; he’d done worse. But the true motive behind the
request plagued him. “Are you sure, Garren? This isn’t just some manner of
infatuation, is it?”

Garren shook his head.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” he muttered to himself. He focused on
his friend. “No, this is not an infatuation. I want this woman to be my wife
because I love her and her family is not going to stop me. How much clearer can
I make this?”

Fergus didn’t have an
overly suspicious mind, nor was he a deep thinker. He more often than not
simply accepted what was said.

“If that is your desire,
my friend, then I shall ride to Framlingham today for your ladylove.” He
scratched his head. “You do have a plan, don’t you? What do I do with her once
I have her?”

“You worry about getting
her out of the castle. When you do, ride for Yaxley Nene Abbey and deliver her
to Sister Mary Felicitas.  Beyond that, there is nothing you need concern
yourself over. I shall pay you, handsomely.”

“I am not worried over
the money,” Fergus said. “I would do this for nothing at all, simply because we
are friends. But there is one thing that concerns me.”

“What’s that?”

“If her family is as
protective as you say, then you are going to need help keeping her. Even if I
manage to get her out of Framlingham, I am willing to wager that the hounds
will track us and follow.”

“That is why you are
taking her to the abbey.”

“But she can’t stay
there forever, and neither can you. Eventually, you are going to leave with, I
suspect, her family in pursuit. What then?”

“That part of my plan is
a little less clear. I shall know more when I return to Chepstow and discuss
options with my liege.”

“What for?”

“The Marshall controls
several bastions along the Marches. I shall request transfer to one of the
remote ones, easily defended. I shall keep her there with me until her family
grows weary and returns home. The Marches are a long way from Norfolk and, do
not forget, her father serves the Earl of Norfolk. He cannot be gone overlong
on a siege using the earl’s resources.”

“Unless the earl gives
his blessing and sends more reinforcements to aid him. Then, you will have a
battle that will basically pit the Earl of Norfolk against the Marshall of
England over a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with either of them. Do
you want to risk that now when tensions are already so high between Richard and
John’s supporters?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then I would suggest
that you take her someplace remote, with no soldiers, no connections
whatsoever. Just the two of you.  Wait until the situation cools. As it stands
now, running to a fortified castle is basically inviting her family to follow
and bring on a full-scale war.  It is a tease.”

Garren thought on his
words carefully; Fergus may have been flighty and scatter brained at times, but
he had the heart and soul of a true warrior. In battle, the man was invaluable,
which was why an undertaking of abduction didn’t faze him in the least.  He
would have battled through fire if Garren asked him to.