Catherine Coulter (34 page)

On the morning of the third day, Garron, Aleric, Pali, Hobbs, and Gilpin went again to the cell in the granary.

G
arron looked through the bars at the two men who lay silently in their filth. He’d wanted to break their wills, not kill them. He judged them to be ready.

He walked into the stinking cell. Neither man looked up. Neither man spoke. They looked broken enough. “Aleric, bring our two ancients up into the inner bailey, I wish to see them clearly in the sunlight, admire their lovely gowns. Ah, they stink. We’ll let them bathe in the well. Merry made some lavender soap, they can use it.” And Garron turned on his heel and left the granary, whistling.

He and all his people watched Pali and Hobbs strip the two men down to their skin. There was laughter when the men threw buckets filled with the cold water from the castle well at them, and they yelped and tried to duck and cover themselves at the same time, but with the continuous hooting and shouting of coarse remarks made by both men and women, they soon realized it was pointless. So they set about scrubbing themselves. The lavender soap was sweet smelling indeed.

Merry said to Garron, “This man, Sir Halric, he looks paltry.”

“Aye, he does.” Garron stood, arms crossed over his chest, and he never took his eyes off the two men. “But then you spent a good deal of time with him.”

“Jason of Brennan is young enough and comely, just as my mother told me.”

He said lightly, “But you’ve seen him before, Merry, don’t you remember? He came to Valcourt with your mother.”

“Aye, I was but giving you her report of him.” She turned and lightly ran her fingertips up his arm.

“Mind your virtue, Merry,” he said, then turned back to the two men. He said easily, “I like the smell of the soap. What is the scent?”

She cocked her head at him. “How should I know that, my lord?”

Because you made it
. He became very still. Once the two men were dressed, this time in trousers and tunics from the goods they themselves had brought to Wareham, Garron said, “Aleric, bring them into the great hall. It is time for them to share their deepest secrets with me.”

Garron sat in his new beautifully carved lord’s chair. It was the first time, he realized, that he’d ever in his life sat in judgment. He breathed in the fresh oak and let the power he knew was his alone settle into him. Robert Burnell stood off to one side, not saying a word.
Probably thinking about his silver coins
, Garron thought,
probably wondering how he could claim more.

“Jason of Brennan, I would like you to meet the person who brought you down.” He nodded to Miggins, who flung her head back and proudly walked to stand beside his chair. She gave Jason a big grin and waved a gnarly fist in his face. “I got ye, ye little bastid, none other, jest me.”

Trousers gave a man courage, and so Jason of Brennan yelled, “Old crone, I’ll gullet you when I am free.”

Robert Burnell called out, “You will never again be free, sirrah. Best not make threats when your miserable life hangs in the balance.”

Jason of Brennan knew very well this was Robert Burnell, trusted above all others by the king. A scrawny man, he thought, his head covered with thick, dark hair that curled around his ears, not a single white strand threaded in. His father had once talked of knowing Burnell in their youth, and that meant Burnell was old enough to have white hair, and why didn’t he? Jason’s father had a mane of white hair. He saw Burnell’s bony fingers were covered with ink. His black robe looked musty and old. When all was said and done, Burnell was naught but a miserable scribe, Chancellor of England or not. But he had the king’s ear and that meant there would be no mercy, he knew it. He screwed up his courage and said nothing more. Sir Halric stood quietly beside him, the man seemingly as stolid as Jason’s father.

“I would like to hear the truth now,” Garron said, looking from one man to the other.

Neither even looked at him.

Garron drew his stiletto as he rose from his chair. “You wish me to remove an ear, Jason of Brennan? Will that encourage you to spit out the truth?”

Jason of Brennan said nothing, but his heart began to pound hard and hot.

“I do not know if losing an ear will make you hear less. Do you wish to take the chance?”

Jason of Brennan continued to say nothing. He looked at Garron, and once again, he spit at him. This time his spittle landed on Garron’s tunic.

Garron’s knife moved so swiftly, it seemed a blur. Garron sliced off his right ear, cleanly and quickly. Jason yelled in shock, grabbed his head, and fell to his knees, keening.

Garron stood over him and calmly wiped off his blade. “You will tell me the truth now, or you will lose your other ear as well.”

Jason began to sob, deep in his throat, and rocked back and forth on his heels. “You have made me a monster, a freak!”

Robert Burnell cleared his throat. “Listen to me, you miserable whelp, you will speak the truth now or I will take both you and Sir Halric back to the king. Lord Garron knows naught of torture, thus you lost your ear fast, with no fuss, no real pain, no undue mutilation, so quit your weeping. If you wish to bear unspeakable pain, pain that makes your tongue swell in your mouth so you cannot breathe, I will give you over to the king’s men. Stop your howling, do you hear me? By all the saints’ wooden crosses, you sicken me. You are a man, act like one!”

Jason of Brennan seemed not to hear.

“Jason,” Sir Halric said quietly. “Get hold of yourself. Tell them the truth. It matters not now. Nothing matters any longer.”

Slowly, Jason raised his face to Burnell. Blood streamed down his neck, soaking his tunic. It was Merry who silently walked to him, and gave him a folded cloth to press against his head. Garron said nothing, merely watched her from where he sat again on his lord’s chair.

Burnell said, “I have known your father for many years, Jason. He was always a hard man, even when we were young, but he was also a man of great bravery and principles, a man who has always supported the king. As you know, your father traveled with the king to the Holy Land. He never left the king’s side. The king trusts him.

“I knew there was strife between you and your father, but not the cause for it. You must have shamed him greatly, even as you shamed yourself.

“Speak the truth now, Jason, or I will return you to London and turn you over to the king’s men. You would not do well under their tender mercies.”

“I was but trying to make amends.”

“Amends to whom?” Burnell asked him. “Stand up, you pathetic scoundrel!”

Jason tried to rise. Garron said nothing, remained expressionless, when Merry moved quickly to help him. Once upright, Merry stepped away from him. He squared his shoulders, but his voice was only a whisper when he began to speak, liquid with misery and tears, “I am guilty of naught save trying to find my father’s silver coins so that I may return them to him. The silver is not yours, Garron of Kersey, nor was it your damned brother’s, who stole it!”

Garron sat forward in his chair, his hands fists on his knees. His knife was back in its sheath at his belt. “You claimed Arthur stole the coins from you. But now you are claiming the hundreds of silver coins do not belong to you, but to your father? And you were trying to steal them back for him?”

“It is the truth. I have no reason to lie, not now.”

Burnell said, “How could Arthur possibly have stolen such a vast number of silver coins from your father? How did Arthur even know of the silver?”

“I don’t know how he managed it, but he did. He struck my father down in his solar, where he’d hidden the silver. My poor father never even knew who had done it. Ah, but I knew, I knew, for there could be no other.”

Garron grabbed Jason by the neck and shook him like a rat. Jason of Brennan struggled, but every shake made the pain of his lost ear send agony through his head. He tried to kick out, but Garron’s rage was powerful. “I suppose you believe you can say anything about my brother since he is dead?” He drew his knife. “I think you’ll lose your other ear now, you lying whoreson.”

“No!”

Garron froze. It was Merry’s voice.

He looked over Jason’s head at her white face. Sunlight was pouring through the open doors into the great hall, turning her hair to fire. Slowly, he nodded to her to speak.

“My lord, there is no reason to mutilate him further. He will tell you what you wish to know.”

Garron said, “You will be silent now, Merry, this has naught to do with you. You, Jason of Brennan, you will speak now or I will slice off your other ear.”

He watched her shoot a look at Jason, then she slowly lowered her head.

Jason was holding his palm against his bandaged head, blood seeping out between his fingers. He shouted, “Your damned brother is not dead! How do you think I knew where to look for the silver? Arthur finally told me where he’d hidden it. You’re not an earl, you puffed-up bladder, you’re nothing at all!”

Garron roared out of his chair, grabbed Jason around his throat, and lifted him off the stone floor. He stared at Jason’s face, white as death, the red blood snaking from beneath the white bandage, turning black against his neck. “You are saying my brother is alive?”

“Aye, he’s alive.”

Miggins screeched, “Thass a lie! Ye filthy mongrel, I saw Lord Arthur’s face fall in his trencher! He was as dead as all the poor souls ye butchered when ye came as the Black Demon to Wareham! Ye poisoned him! We buried him! Ye hear me? We buried Lord Arthur!”

“Nay,” Sir Halric said, “Jason does not lie. Lord Arthur was not dead. One of his men in my pay fed him a draught that gave him the look of death. We stole him out of Wareham, and another was wrapped and buried in his place. We took him away so we could question him.”

“And just where,” Garron asked quietly, “did you obtain this draught that gave my brother the look of death?”

Sir Halric said, “This mangy little liar claimed the credit, but that is absurd. It was all the witch’s plan.”

Jason yelled, “Aye, it was all from the witch.”

“Was it also the witch’s idea to plant a traitor in Wareham to open the postern gate so you and your men could enter?”

“Aye.”

“But why did you kill everyone? Why did you destroy my home?”

“It wasn’t my fault that I had to kill so many. No one would tell me the truth!”

“How could anyone tell you anything at all since only Arthur knew where he’d hidden the silver? How did you even know the silver was here?”

“His men helped him, mayhap women too. Aye, I knew the silver was here. It was Arthur’s damned home. Of course he brought the silver here. He deserved nothing, do you hear me? His people deserved nothing! They lied to me just as he did!” Suddenly his rage overcame his desire to survive. He screamed, “By Saint Bartholomew’s gilded heart, I hate this place! I delighted in killing all your brother’s people, do you hear me, worthless wretches, all of them!”

There was stark silence in the great hall. Then Garron heard murmuring amongst his people, his people who had lost so many to this idiot.

Garron said, “We will speak more of that presently. What did you do to my brother?”

“I did nothing to him, merely took him to a cottage near my home. I waited and waited, but he didn’t wake up from the drug. I had no choice but to go again to the witch, and she gave me another plan.” Jason whirled on Sir Halric, and his voice was bitter as salt on ice. “You did not argue about the ruse, did you? You said you believed you could convince the starving beggars within these walls to let you in to help them. You did not suggest we should continue to wait to see if Arthur woke up. It was all your fault, damn you, not mine. And you failed yet again, just as you did the first time.”

Jason was panting now. “Aye, the witch told you the amount of potion to pour into Arthur’s ale, but your man obviously gave him too much. It is all your fault, Halric, all of it!”

Sir Halric grabbed him by the neck. He screamed right in his face, “Just listen to you—you claimed the Black Demon and the Retribution was all your idea. I never believed you, never, but I remember well how you preened and strutted about.” And Sir Halric struck his jaw with his fist.

Garron believed Jason of Brennan’s heart would burst out of his chest. His face was the color of the blood still slowly seeping through the white bandage. “How dare you strike me? I will kill you for that, Halric! The witch demanded that I kill you, but I did not. Because of you I have lost not only the silver coins, I have lost Valcourt to this bastard!”

“But I am not a bastard,” Garron said. “I gather that Arthur finally woke up, didn’t he? And since you knew exactly where to find the silver, you tortured him, didn’t you, to make him confess the hiding place. Did the witch also give you the plan to get into Wareham this time, disguised as an old tinker and his wife?”

“Aye. It is all her doing, every plan, every ruse. I remembered finally when I was lying in your cell that the witch had magicked me, the wicked creature made me do all of it. None of it was my fault!”

“My mother is not a creature!”

T
he silence in the great hall was absolute. Garron knew he heard Merry’s harsh breathing. He raised his hand to hold her silent.

Robert Burnell’s rich deep voice broke the silence. “There is something I wish to know. Jason of Brennan, you said the silver coins belonged to your father. How did Lord Ranulf come by all this silver?”

Garron watched Jason of Brennan slowly turn to face the Chancellor of England. It seemed to Garron in that moment that Burnell looked larger, more formidable. He looked like God, a very angry God, all he needed was a raised staff in his hand.

Jason said, “My father always had the silver. I knew nothing of it until I chanced upon him with the silver when I was but a young boy. He was sitting on the floor of his solar, piles of silver coins surrounded him, and he was counting the coins. He was happy, I could hear it in his voice and see it on his face. It is one of the few times I have ever seen my father happy, before or since. He was counting out loud and he sounded like he was speaking to a friend, or mayhap to a lover, given how he caressed the individual coins. When he saw me standing there, he didn’t yell at me or strike me. Nay, he beckoned me to him and said, ‘Behold, this is Arlette’s gift to our line, Jason. You will never tell a soul about it or I will cut off your tongue and feed it to you. It is our secret. When I am gone, you will take my place, and it will be your turn to guard the silver. You will hold it close, Jason, else you will die a horrible death, and our line will die. Do you understand me?’