Catherine Coulter (37 page)

“As you know, most believe your grandfather, King John, died of dysentery in the fall of 1216, only a year after signing the Great Charter at Runnymede.”

Burnell said, “Lord Ranulf, why did the King of France believe your mother could get close enough to King John to poison him? What was she to John?”

“In truth, she was also King John’s mistress, sire. Arlette herself told me King John was so ill he could not gain bodily satisfaction from her, but he loved to have her close to him, to look at her, to stroke her. She gave him comfort.

“I remember as a boy I heard people marvel at her beauty, but I paid no particular attention because she was my mother. A few years ago I found a small rendering of her, and saw that her beauty was indeed remarkable.”

Edward said, “Some have said John’s ale was poisoned, others have said the poison was in some plums he ate. Mayhap your mother did indeed poison him.”

“Arlette told me she’d known John’s death would come soon enough, with no assistance from anyone. She said when he died, she was surprised when the King of France sent no one to take back his silver. She supposed he believed she had indeed poisoned John.

“Upon John’s death, Arlette married the Earl of Carronwick, left London, and took the silver coins with her. She did not spend them, she guarded them for future generations. My father died without ever knowing about the stash of silver coins.”

Jason of Brennan took a step forward, only to be pulled back by Whalen. “Father, why did you lie to me?”

Lord Ranulf slowly turned to look at his only son. “You were seven years old, Jason. How could I tell you the truth? You would not have understood.”

“I would have understood if only you had told me the truth! I could have drunk a barrel of ale and not said anything had I known this Arlette was my own grandmother. And I have been a man for many years. Why have you not told me the truth?”

Lord Ranulf’s expression was austere. “I did not tell you because I knew you were not to be trusted.” He turned back to the king. “Sir Halric is my man. When I discovered the coins were gone, when my son swore to me he knew nothing about them, I requested Halric to join my son to keep watch on him. He has been loyal to me, he tried to curb my son’s excesses. Unfortunately, this was not always possible, witness the so-called Retribution at Wareham brought by this Black Demon.

“When Sir Halric caught the heiress of Valcourt, he was bringing her to me. He did not realize it was Garron of Kersey who took her from him. I beg that you spare him, sire, for he has been loyal to me for many years.”

“What about me, Father?” Jason struggled and heaved against the guard, but it was no use. “The only reason I attacked Wareham was to find the silver coins so I could return them to you! I did nothing wrong!”

Ranulf said nothing, simply stood before the King of England, tall and proud, waiting for the sentence.

Edward desperately wanted to keep all those beautiful silver coins. Were his needs not greater than Ranulf’s? Were his needs not greater than any other of his subjects? Was it not his duty to protect England? And the good Lord knew it required silver. He tapped his long fingers on the arm of his throne and fought with himself. Aye, he would use the silver to help him crush those damned Scots and Welsh—but Lord Ranulf had always been loyal to him, had always met his demands with soldiers and silver. And Ranulf had told him the truth, the entire truth, he knew it to his gut. What to do?

He found himself turning to Garron, a young man who had saved his life twice. “What say you, Garron?”

Jason yelled, “Why would you ask him? He is nothing!”

Garron said, “What I say, sire, is that the silver coins be returned to Lord Ranulf. In gratitude to you, he should pay you the same share I would have, had I been able to keep the silver. Mayhap too, Marianna de Luce de Mornay could wed with Lord Ranulf. Mayhap she can breed him a son with honor.” He saw Merry still holding the witch’s hand. Honor from a son born of that union?

Lord Ranulf gawked at him.

A lovely melodious voice said, “May I speak, sire?”

Garron, like every other person in the chamber, turned to Abbess Helen of Meizerling.

The king nodded. “Aye, madam, what is it you have to say?”

“I do not believe my daughter should wed Lord Ranulf, rather she should wed his son, Jason of Brennan, and the silver coins should be given to me as her dowry. In return, your majesty will have a just share of the silver, and Valcourt will have an excellent master, one forever loyal and grateful to you, sire. If you will forgive his youthful transgressions.”

The king turned to look long at Garron. “What say you?”

Garron didn’t want to say anything, even though he knew the witch realized well enough that if her daughter was wed to Ranulf, she would never see a single silver coin. What Garron wanted more than anything was to fight Jason of Brennan and run his sword through his damned belly. And, oddly, he wanted to laugh. In truth, though, nothing mattered except revenge, Garron thought, since he was again what he once was, and that wasn’t so bad, was it? “I have changed my mind, sire. I believe the heiress should wed my brother Arthur, the Earl of Wareham. He would keep the silver as reparation for Lord Ranulf’s son destroying Wareham and murdering scores of his people.”

There was deafening silence in the chamber.

Helen said, “That is not possible. Your brother sleeps deeply. He will never awaken.”

Garron said, “Tell us, madam, how do you know this?”

“Jason of Brennan told me your brother never woke up.”

Garron continued, his eyes never leaving her face. “Jason has told me that my brother woke up and told him where he’d hidden the silver.”

Helen smiled, a beautiful full smile, showing white teeth. “Then I do not know what to believe.”

Garron looked from her to Jason. “What is the truth here? Is Arthur alive or not?”

J
ason said, “He’s alive. I already told you that. I had to keep him alive since he might have lied to me about where he’d hidden the silver. I had no reason to kill him.”

“Until you’d made sure you got the silver coins,” Garron said, and his palms itched to strangle this man who had wreaked so much havoc.

“We will know shortly,” Robert Burnell said.

The king said, “I have decided Garron has the right of it. The heiress of Valcourt will wed Lord Ranulf on the morrow. He will have his silver returned, minus the amount justly due to his king and to the Earl of Wareham for reparations, and he will have Valcourt.”

There were low mutterings, but the king paid no heed. He smiled faintly toward Lord Ranulf, who still looked utterly stunned.

“No!” Jason yelled. “No! Not my father! He is too old. The heiress should wed with me. The witch promised me. It was all arranged! The witch planned all of it!”

Sir Halric laughed. “This, at least, is the truth, sire. After this puling bastard told the witch of the silver coins, she chose Jason because she knew she could control him.” He turned to Jason, who was straining toward him, death in his eyes. “You never were anything but a tool to gain what she wished. And you thought to cheat her, to keep the silver for yourself? She would have cut out your heart, and taken all the silver for herself. Since I have suffered you for five long years, I know that if the king were to make a misjudgment and let you keep Valcourt, it would fall into ruin under your hand, for you are a fool.”

Before anyone could speak, the doors opened and one of the king’s soldiers entered. It was obvious he’d ridden hard. He was panting, sweat and dirt covered his clothes. He strode to the king, went down on one knee, his head bowed.

The king asked him, “Did you bring Lord Arthur back with you, Anselm?”

“Lord Arthur of Kersey, the Earl of Wareham, is dead, sire. We were told by a woman who had attended him that he fell back into the dream sleep after Jason of Brennan had tortured him. The next day, she said he simply stopped breathing. She showed us where he was buried.”

The king showed no particular surprise. He looked over at Jason of Brennan. “The woman lied for you, didn’t she? You were the one to bury him, were you not?”

“No, I tell you, sire, I swear to you, I left him alive. I did not know he died, I did not know. He was merely asleep again. We hardly did anything to him before he told me where to find the silver coins, and then he closed his eyes again. It is true, I told you I could not kill him, not until I knew he had not lied.”

Anselm cleared his throat. The king nodded to him. “The woman told us Jason of Brennan left before Arthur died, sire.”

Sir Ranulf could but stare at his son. “It matters not. You doubtless put him to such torture he had no chance to survive.”

“It is not my fault he died! We didn’t hurt him, only a bit, to give him encouragement. He was nearly well when I left him to fetch the silver from Wareham. It was not my fault! I did it for you, Father, for you!”

His father said, all expression gone from his voice, “All the killing, all the needless slaughter—I pray to God to show me what sins I have committed to deserve you.”

The king turned to Garron. “I grant you leave to challenge Jason of Brennan, it is your right.” He turned to Helen. “Now I can set things aright, madam. I will give your daughter in marriage to Lord Garron of Kersey, the Earl of Wareham. Half the silver is his, with a share to me and to Lord Ranulf. Ranulf, I believe this is fair since reparations are in order.”

Helen called out in her beautiful voice, “No, it is not right, sire. It is not just. A portion of the silver should come to me, the heiress’s mother.”

The king paused, then nodded to Garron.

Garron said calmly, “Are you a witch, Abbess Helen?”

She laughed. “I, a witch? Naturally not, there is no such thing. I am learned, naught more than that.”

“Is it true what Sir Halric said? You would have kept the silver had Jason managed to find it? You truly controlled him that easily?”

“The silver was destined for Valcourt, so that it would remain an important holding.”

“Do you spend time in a tower in the middle of a forest?”

She shook her head. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Did you drug your daughter and kidnap her?”

“Aye, I did. I feared for her. I wished to save her.”

“Save her from what, madam?”

“From you, sir, from you. I believed she should have a choice. Ask if she wishes to wed with you.”

“Merry, do you wish to wed with me?”

“I will wed whomever the king commands I wed.”

“Then tell me why you came to my chamber at night at Wareham.”

Her face went utterly blank. Then, “I never went to your chamber! That is an unconscionable lie, sir, unworthy of any man with honor.”

“I went to your chamber because I wanted to force you to wed with me.”

Everyone turned to the door to see Merry standing there, disheveled, wearing an old, cast-off gown, her hair tangled and coming out of its plaits, hanging down her back. She looked like a madwoman, her face scarlet with rage.

The king raised his hand for quiet. “What is this? You look like another Marianna de Luce de Mornay. How is this possible?” And he looked at them back and forth. “By all the saints’ mottled noses, you are twins. Twins. It is amazing.”

Merry threw back her head. “I am Marianna de Luce de Mornay, the heiress of Valcourt. I did not even know about this one pretending to be me until your guard outside the door nearly fainted when he saw me and demanded how I’d come out of this room without his seeing me.” She turned to her mother. “So this is the secret you told me my father kept, indeed the secret that many people at Valcourt know. You birthed twin girls and you took her and left me with my father.”

“No, the bitch lies! My twin? I have no twin, I have no sister. I am Marianna de Luce de Mornay, not this girl! Mother, tell them!”

Merry turned to face the furious girl. It was like looking in a mirror. “I did not even know about you. Did you know about me? Did our mother tell you why she kept you and left me at Valcourt?”

“She took you away, not me! I am the heiress of Valcourt, not you, you dirty little harlot!”

Garron said, “Sire, I believe I can solve this very quickly.” He looked from one to the other. “Which one of you can tell me how you escaped from Sir Halric.”

Merry stared at her sister, who stood frozen, her eyes darting to their mother.

Garron waited for his Merry to speak, for indeed, he knew to his soul it was her, but then he saw her dirty face change, grow slack, lose all expression. He saw she was looking at her mother, and that her mother was staring at her, her ice gray eyes intense, saw her lips moving. Merry began to sway where she stood.

“Merry, shut your eyes, now!”

But she couldn’t close her eyes, she couldn’t move, she simply couldn’t, and did she really want to? She stared and stared, and felt herself begin to fall, but it didn’t feel frightening, this falling.

“Merry! Stop it!”

Why was Garron yelling at her? Wait. This was wrong. Somehow, she had to turn her face away from her mother, she had to—

Garron ran to Helen and struck his fist into the side of her head. The blow lifted her off her feet and sent her flying backward to crash against a wall.

“Merry!”

He caught her up against him, buried his face in her hair.

She slowly felt herself coming together again, but where had she gone? What had her mother done to her? She looked up at Garron, at his beloved face, then down at her mother, who lay on her back, her beautiful white skirts billowing out around her, unconscious.

She said, “You wondered which of us could tell you how she escaped from Sir Halric. I will tell you, my lord. It was you who saved me from Sir Halric, Garron. You.”

The king said, “How did you get here?”