Catherine Coulter (35 page)

“I did not understand then and I do not understand now. Was the silver cursed? If it were spent, would the one who spent it die this horrible death? How could our line die?

“And I wondered who this Arlette was and how long the silver had been in our family, and so I asked him. He whispered her name again—‘Arlette’—and his voice was reverent. ‘She drew power from the ancient oak trees, it was told to me. The silver was given to her by countless men who wished her favor. She lived so very long ago.’ He said no more, and I didn’t either, I was too afraid. I remember I told him I understood, and he told me to leave him and never, never tell another soul what I had seen.”

Burnell said, “Then why did you tell Arthur of the silver?”

Jason lowered his head. “I was young, only fifteen. Arthur was eighteen. He and I fought together in a tourney held outside York. We wenched that night, and drank too much ale. He’d beaten me and I suppose I wanted to tell him something that made him feel insignificant, as he was, and so I told him about my family’s treasure. The next morning, I remembered I’d told him and I knew such fear I believed I’d choke on it. When I asked him if he remembered my telling him a tale of silver treasure, he laughed at me, claimed he didn’t remember anything, for he’d drunk himself into a stupor. He never said anything to me about it so I believed he had indeed forgotten. We went our own ways after the tourney.”

“Did you tell him where your father had hidden the silver?”

He said, “I must have, but I do not remember.”

“Did you tell your father what you had done?”

“By all the saints, no! He would have cut out my tongue and fed it to me! My father never makes threats he doesn’t mean.”

Burnell’s voice was so low now, Jason had to lean toward him to hear. “So, because you remained silent in your treachery, your father had no warning at all.”

“I tell you, Arthur did not remember! Nothing happened, nothing, do you hear me? Years passed. Years! Then when I was fighting in France with a kinsman, my father sent a message to me, telling me someone had struck him down and stolen the silver from its hiding place. He told me I was the only one who knew of the treasure, even my mother did not know.

“I wasn’t about to tell him about Arthur, I dared not else he would have rendered me tongueless, and probably cast me off. I swore to him that I’d never told anyone, but I do not think he believed me. He looked at me sometimes when he did not think I was watching. There was disbelief in his eyes, and I knew to my soul that he knew as well. And I was afraid, but I did not know what to do.”

Sir Halric said, contempt in his voice, “Of course Lord Ranulf knew you’d given up the secret, he’d always known, he simply did not know about Arthur. Lord Ranulf told me what you’d done and set me to watch you five years ago. He hoped you would speak to me of it, and you did finally when you realized you had to have my help.”

Jason turned on him. He would have clouted him, but when he raised his arm, he felt a shaft of pain in his head so great he nearly fell to his knees. He screamed, “You mangy whoreson! I believed you were my man, but you were naught but a spy for my father! You betrayed me!”

Sir Halric gave him a sneer. “Aye, you should have seen Lord Ranulf roar with laughter when I told him how the witch of Meizerling Abbey had you under her thumb, how you’d told her of the silver coins but you didn’t know how to get them. She promised you she would arrange for you to wed with her daughter, the heiress of Valcourt, if you brought her the silver. Lord Ranulf couldn’t wait to see what her plan was.

“Your father knew every single move you made, and he was pleased with the witch’s plan, though he was furious at your butchery here at Wareham. When I told him Arthur had awakened and confessed, he was content to see what you would do. He laughed when I told him about you making yourself into an ancient old crone. It was your father who ordered me to play the tinker so I would know exactly what happened.

“When he hears of this failure, Jason, he will not only cut out your tongue, he will kill you, for you have lost Arlette’s silver. He knows his line is now cursed. Aye, he told me if he did not die with the silver in his keeping, his line would die out within a generation.”

Jason was beside himself. He yelled, “You were the one who failed, Halric! The witch promised me the heiress, and you did capture her for me, but just look what happened. Garron of Kersey got her back. The witch told me to kill you because you failed. But I have a full share of mercy. You had been at my side for many years, and so I didn’t kill you, but I will, you bastard, I swear it on my honor, I will slit your bloody throat!”

Sir Halric said, “It was bad luck, naught more than bad luck that this man came upon us, and freed the heiress.”

Suddenly, Jason froze. He said slowly, trying to weave his thoughts together over the pain, “Were you really going to bring her to me, Halric?”

Contempt sliced through Halric’s voice. “What do you think, you braying little cock?”

Jason actually groaned. “You betrayed me yet again. You were going to take her to my father, weren’t you? You were going to give her to him so he could have Valcourt, and I would have nothing.”

There was a moment of raging silence, then Sir Halric laughed, a high, full laugh. “Aye, when I found the heiress skulking away from Valcourt and caught her, I did indeed decide to take her to your father. Your father would have rewarded me, as you have never done.”

Sir Halric turned to Garron. “Aye, you beat me, sent me running. Your men killed mine, and you brought the heiress here to wed yourself. You are not a fool, are you, Garron of Kersey? When you looked at her, you knew she would bring you great wealth and great power, and you had to do absolutely nothing to earn it. But heed me, my lord, both the heiress and the silver belong to Lord Ranulf, to no one else.”

Garron smiled. “Since the heiress did not tell me who she was, believe me, Sir Halric, I had to work very hard indeed to gain her hand in marriage.”

Sir Halric turned to Merry. “She’s naught but an evil spawn, all that sinful red hair flying around her head.”

“I want her,” Jason yelled. “She belongs to me! She wrapped a bandage around my head. I will kill her witch mother and then wed the heiress. It is I who will have Valcourt.”

Sir Halric stepped right in Jason’s face. He said very quietly, “Are you blind? Are you too witless to understand that you will shortly be dead? You will never have the heiress. You will never have Valcourt. You will never have the silver. You’ve lost, and you’ve dragged me down with you. Aye, I deserve to be killed because I obeyed Lord Ranulf when he told me to do what you wished, all the while rubbing his hands together, knowing I would help you recover the silver. I even agreed to make myself into a tinker traveling with his ugly old wife with three mules laden with goods—and just look at what happened when we came here again.” He grabbed Jason by the throat and shook him. Jason tried to push him away, but the pain in his head nearly sent him to his knees.

Then Sir Halric released him, stepped back, and shook his head in disgust. “Both of us were caught and humiliated because of that damned witch’s mad plan. Do you know it was your grandmother who passed down Arlette’s silver coins to your father? She told him at her last breath he would be the guardian and she explained to him about Arlette’s silver, and the cost to him if he lost it.”

Burnell said more to himself than to Sir Halric, “Arlette. Was she a Druid priestess, do you think? She gathered silver from men to protect them, to cleanse their sins? Sir Halric, you don’t know who she is?”

Sir Halric said, “Lord Ranulf did not tell me anything more, merely that his own mother spoke to him about the silver coins.”

Burnell said, “I must study this, determine who this Arlette was. She was of your line, surely. The distant past, I wonder if that is true?”

Garron laughed, he actually laughed until he shook with it. “Sir,” he said to Burnell, “you have fallen into this fine old tale—a Druid priestess—but think, sir. The silver coins, you have seen them. They aren’t a thousand years old, they are of our time, mayhap amongst the first silver pennies ever issued, probably issued by King Henry. So, Lord Ranulf spun this tale for his son, and for Sir Halric. Jason still spins it. The king must ask Lord Ranulf where the coins really come from.”

Burnell, that spiritual man of immense faith, cursed beneath his breath. He looked embarrassed. Then he squared his shoulder. “Aye, a romantic tale it is, and so I forgot what I saw with my own eyes. You are right, Garron, it is Lord Ranulf who has to tell the king the truth.”

Garron said to Jason, “I wish to know where you’re keeping my brother. Or are you lying? Did you kill him after he confessed the hiding place to you?”

“Arthur is still breathing,” Jason said. “I wanted to kill him but I couldn’t be sure he had told me the truth. Aye, he lives.” He managed a laugh. “So you are nothing, just as I told you, Garron of Kersey, nothing at all, except one of the king’s lowly guards.”

It was Robert Burnell who calmly walked to Jason and sent his fist hard into his jaw. “No man is lowly, sirrah, when he is in the king’s service.”

N
ot long after Jason of Brennan and Sir Halric were taken back to the granary, Miggins eased up behind Garron and lightly tugged on his sleeve. “My lord.”

“Aye, Miggins? You have more revelations to turn my hair white?”

The old woman quickly looked around, then leaned close. “Ye must listen to me, beautiful lad, ye must.”

What now?
By all the saints’ blistered fingers, there was so much for him to consider, so many decisions to make, and there was his brother, and if he were indeed alive, then Arthur was the earl, not Garron, and there was Merry, always Merry—he nodded down at the scrappy old woman. “I’m listening.”

“Merry has changed. None of us knows what has changed her, but since ye brought her back, she is different. She doesn’t know things she should know, like names, though she pretends to. She didn’t even remember that Eric the goat was named after little Ivo and Errol’s father. She is jealous of Elaine, I’ve seen her show spite. Something is very wrong. Ye must do something.”

Garron said very quietly, “I did not tell you, Miggins, but when her mother kidnapped her, the witch drugged her. I believe the drug must have changed her. We must hope she will recover from it.”

But Miggins did not look convinced. She opened her mouth, then shut it because Garron said, “It does not matter now. If Arthur indeed lives, then I am no longer the Earl of Wareham. I will not be allowed to wed her.” He thought of the days that had passed, so many days when he could have wed her, but hadn’t. But if he had wed her—what would have happened then? Would the king still make him the Earl of Valcourt? He doubted it. Well, it didn’t matter now. No matter what her differences, no matter how she had changed, even the scent of her hair, Merry would never be his wife, whether he wanted her to be or not. He gave a low, vicious laugh. Jason of Brennan was right, he would once again become nothing more than the king’s lowly guard.

Miggins was frowning. “It is very strange. I knew Lord Arthur was dead, my lord, knew it to my soul. I was wrong, and that’s a blow, I tell ye. Do ye believe he really still lives?”

“Jason of Brennan said he could not take the chance of killing Arthur in case he’d lied about where he’d hidden the silver. It is reasonable. Thus, Wareham is his. It is his birthright, not mine.” It hurt so much to say those words, hurt all the way to his soul.

“He was a warty master, lad, niver happy with what he had. And now he will lose the silver, ye know the king will not let him claim any of it. Think ye it will go back to Lord Ranulf?”

“Since I don’t know where Ranulf got the silver coins, it is up to the king to judge the matter. It no longer has anything to do with me.”

“And those two mangy scoundrels, Jason of Brennan and Sir Halric?”

“Burnell wants to take them and the silver back to London, to the king. I am going with him, to demand my right to kill him. Killing him is little enough payment for what he did to Wareham, much less what he did to Arthur.”

“The future is unsettled, lad, too unsettled for my taste.”

He could not disagree. “I do wonder who this Arlette was and how she came to get so much silver.”

Miggins leaned close. “Mayhap she was a witch, jest like the witch who brought us all the trouble. Will ye kill her too, lad?”

“What are you whining about to my lord, old crone?”

Miggins whirled around so fast, Garron had to grab her bony arm to steady her.

“What is she whispering to you?”

Merry stood, hands on her hips, and death in her eyes as she stared at Miggins. “She is complaining, isn’t she, Garron? She is saying I am not Merry, isn’t she? She’s claiming I’m an imposter. The old bitch lies! What has she said?”

He looked at the vibrant girl whose hair lay loose down her back, a simple golden band around her forehead. He said calmly, “I am no longer your lord, Merry. We were speaking of my brother, who, if he lives, will once again be the Earl of Wareham. Who knows? Mayhap the king will give you to him to wed. Did you wish to speak to me?”

“You will protect the old crone?”

How can you have changed so utterly?
But he merely cocked his head at her.

Merry drew herself up, shook her head so that her glorious hair shifted and danced. “Bullic asks me when we are to wed, my lord. I told him the king’s chancellor would not allow it now that you will be stripped of your title.” She turned to Miggins. “Why are you listening? This has nothing to do with you. Go away.”

Miggins muttered as she walked away, “Aye, ’tis the drug, it has to be the drug that has turned you into a witch like yer mother.” She gave Merry a bewildered look, then shuffled out of the great hall.