Claire Delacroix (34 page)

“Without entail?” John interrupted in amazement. “What did Avery do to hold Ravensmuir so freely?”

Or what gift had he brought? I had a sudden inkling of who one of Avery’s patrons had been hereabouts. King David was known to endow monasteries and churches for his own salvation and his own honor, as admittedly do most kings.

But King David had been dead the better part of a year. It could not be he, or even one bent on winning his favor, who had assaulted Merlyn.

“This is most uncommon,” George muttered in discontent, though I knew it was not that unusual.

In the wake of the plague and the decimation of the general populace, the uniformity of deeds and titles had been broken. Kings and lords were forced to make concessions in the grants of rights and to curtail their expectations of duties to be paid. There were fewer people and more sources of revenue as merchants became more prevalent. Ravensmuir’s fields were not the sole ones to lay each year in fallow.

The lords, quite simply, had less with which to wager. North Berwick had been endowed with new town rights by the king for similar reasons.

Both men’s brows furrowed, for they had clearly hoped for an easy grasp of this holding. They fired sidelong glances at me. I squared my shoulders, guessing that they would try to browbeat me into surrendering the right that Avery had secured.

They would not have a concession readily from me.

“We cannot suffer to have a keep of such import so poorly manned,” George insisted. “It is a weakness in the defense of the king’s own territories, especially when there are rumblings in the south of trouble to come.”

I tapped the document with a fingertip, wagering that Fitz had told me the truth. “Am I not decreed to be my husband’s legal heir?”

George scowled at the deed. “Yes, there are two addenda, both witnessed as expected, one designating Merlyn Lammergeier, Avery’s eldest son, as his heir, and a later one - presumably in Merlyn’s own hand - naming his wife Ysabella as his heir.”

“Unless it was added after Merlyn’s demise,” William said carefully. “For he died not only in his prime but most unexpectedly.”

I understood his import immediately. “You think that I amended this document?” The prospect was laughable, though I dared not admit my own failing lest it be used against me.

“And who else?”

“Who witnessed the addendum?”

“One Rhys Fitzwilliam.” William scanned the assembly. “The manservant of Merlyn, clearly, but is he here to stand witness that this is his mark?”

Fitz, of course, was not present.

“The point of his mark is that he witnessed the deed. A man does not need to witness his own signature,” I insisted.

“He does if his hand and his mark are unfamiliar,” George retorted. “The matter is suspicious, my lady, and the prize not inconsiderable.”

“But this is madness!” I cried. This was no time to be coy.

George inhaled sharply. Both men looked away and Mavella paled at my audacity. I braced myself to fight, but I had no chance to voice my objections.

* * *

“On the contrary, it is the first thing of sense I have heard in years!” Ada roared from the back of the hall. All turned to regard her. “Ysabella is but an illiterate alewife from Kinfairlie, not of noble lineage at all, and not fit to be Lady of Ravensmuir!”

The two earls regarded me with alarm but I smiled. “I thank you, Ada, for exonerating me from the charge of having amended Ravensmuir’s deed.”

Ada colored but did not retreat. “She is a common alewife,” she said bitterly. “Daughter of a whore and man whose name none know.”

“Do you challenge her inheritance?” William asked.

“I do. I am more deserving than she,” she insisted, though many in the company were amused by her assertion.

“Upon what claim?” George asked.

Malcolm stood but Ada brushed past him, her eyes glittering. Many of the men nudged each other, pointing at her apron and no doubt commenting upon the aspirations of serving women. I felt pity for Ada then, but only for a moment.

She raised her fist, her eyes blazing with anger. “I have the greater claim - Avery Lammergeier swore to make me his legal wife, but he died afore the deed could be done.”

The company laughed and Malcolm looked pained for his sister.

“I bore his son!” she shouted, silencing them all with her words. “He pledged to wed me and welcomed me to his bed, and I bore him a son.” Arnulf hovered in the portal behind her, cowering slightly when Ada pointed to him. “I called him my brother to evade the shame, but he is a Lammergeier by blood and Ravensmuir should pass to him by right.”

Whispers erupted in the hall and my heart sank to my toes. Before I could fully comprehend that Ada and I coveted similarly horrific secrets, she spun and jabbed her finger through the air at me. “I know that this one has stolen every thing that ever I desired, and snatched it from my very grip.”

She walked toward me, her lip curled. “It was not enough that my father died in shame, it was not enough that all of Kinfairlie mocked us for his weakness. It was not enough that Mavella charmed away the man I deserved to wed. It was not enough for you that every vestige of respect that ever I had had, you had seen torn from my name and drawn through the mire. No, it was not enough, Ysabella.”

Ada halted before the high table. “You had to seduce Merlyn, as well, You had to use your witching charms upon him and beguile to wed you in haste. You had to snatch Ravensmuir from my grasp and consign me to the kitchen forever.” She smiled coldly. “But justice shall be rendered, Ysabella, and all that you have stolen from me will be returned to me tenfold. I will be Lady of Ravensmuir, as is my rightful due, and you, you will scrub in the kitchens at my bidding.” She looked between the two earls. “Gawain makes no claim, which means that Arnulf is the only blood heir to Avery’s legacy. Ravensmuir is his right and his due.”

“No, Ada!” Malcolm shouted from the back of the hall. “Two ills do not make all come aright.”

Ada drew herself taller, like a dark bird, and hissed. “What do you know of the matter?”

“I know that Arnulf is not Avery’s son.”

“I know who came from my womb. I know what Avery pledged to me.”

“And I know what our step-father did to our home.” Malcolm shook his head, then came toward us. The men listened avidly for this was better entertainment than any bard’s tale. “There is no punishment for a man who rapes his wife, nor for one who beats the children he did not beget but is condemned to raise.”

“Malcolm, you lie!”

“I tell the truth, Ada. It is time for the truth.”

“I tell the truth!”

Malcolm’s expression was grim as he shook his head. “This is the truth. My step-father raped my mother, time and again, and when he got a child upon her, his eye turned to my sister. My mother realized then that his heart was black and she feared to bring another child into her household. She feared that if she bore a girl, that daughter might be abused young.”

“No, Malcolm, do not shame us with this nonsense,” Ada insisted. “We can have Ravensmuir. We can have our rightful due.”

“It is not your due. You have no claim to Ravensmuir.” Malcolm turned a cold gaze upon his sister. “My mother went to a woman in the woods, to beg a potion that would make her lose the child. She was coming ripe and the woman argued with her. The risk is great so close to the babe’s time that the mother will die from such a potion and not the babe. My mother did not care, for she was desperate.”

He gritted his teeth and turned away from Ada’s pleas. “I came home to find her bleeding, my step-father gone, Ada nigh insensible from his abuse. My mother died that day in our kitchen, but the babe lived. Arnulf came early, though I cannot say whether it was the potion or my step-father’s deeds that made him simple as he is.”

I was appalled at what had happened behind the closed doors of the Gowan abode, shocked and dismayed that Ada and her mother had endured it.

Malcolm turned and spoke softly to his sister, who had begun to weep. “Tell them, Ada, tell them the rest.”

“You have ruined everything!” she spat at him. “Mine was a perfect tale, one that no one could disprove.”

“Except for me.” Malcolm slipped his arm around her shoulders, though she shook off his touch. “Enough lies, Ada. We all reap whatsoever we sow and no one else is to blame.” He smiled. “Not even Ysabella, Lady of Ravensmuir.”

“Avery did promise to marry me.”

William leaned forward. “But is Arnulf his son?”

Ada shook her head, her tears spilling. Again, compassion stirred in me, but she lifted a finger of accusation. “I thought his son might make the matter right and fulfill his father’s pledge, but no, not with this one loose. Ysabella cast her spells and cooked her potions and chanted her curses, and she snared Merlyn Lammergeier for her own. Surely, you do not intend to let a witch, who should be burned for her crimes, rule Ravensmuir?”

This time her charge fell upon ears prepared to listen.

* * *

The assembly began to chatter. The earls exchanged a glance and my own blood ran cold. Witchery is a charge more easily made than disproven and I knew it well.

“Have you evidence to support your accusation?” William leaned forward, much too interested for my taste.

Ada sneered. “Why else would a wealthy handsome laird wed the illiterate spawn of a harlot?”

William smiled. “Men have been known to wed for many a reason.”

“You have not heard the last of this!” Ada shouted. “I will see it proven that Ysabella is a witch and ensure that she wins the fate she deserves!”

“Ada, leave the matter be.” Malcolm tried to take her arm. “You have wrought enough damage.”

Ada struck at him in fury. “I have? And what have you done of the matter? What did you do to see Mother avenged? What did you do to ensure that wretched man had his due? Nothing! No, Malcolm you were too busy rutting with your new wife to trouble yourself with your family! You let him flee as surely as if you lent him a steed!

“I did not!”

“And what aid did you give us, Malcolm? What did you do once you saw what you saw? You walked away, did you not? You walked out the door and left me amidst that ruin, went back to your poisonous Fiona. You had no time...”

“That is enough!” Malcolm shouted.

Ada drew back to hurl more venom at him, but he slapped her face. The blow echoed through the hall, and was followed by silence.

Malcolm stepped forward, contrite. “I am sorry, Ada, I...”

But Ada buried her face in her hands and began to weep. Her sobs shook her shoulders and she seemed smaller in her defeat. She appeared so crumpled as to never have been a threat at all.

“Come home with me, Ada.” Malcolm urged. “Fiona will welcome you.”

“She will not!”

“She will, for I shall insist upon it.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You speak aright that I have ignored my blood too long. Come home with me.”

Ada let herself be led away, though her weeping did not cease. I could not blame her truly, and felt sympathy for her. I knew how it was to rely upon Fiona Gowan for charity and would not wish that on any other soul, regardless of her crimes.

“We have no evidence of witchery,” William grumbled, disappointed.

George smiled, as if there had been no interruption. “Which brings us neatly to the matter of seeing the lady wed to a suitable man.” He cleared his throat. “My son, John, for example, is without a spouse.”

I spared the man in question a glance and he gave me his most winning smile. I bit my tongue, wanting to know all of my options before discarding them publically.

“And my man Ethan has need of a bride.” William indicated a man of about forty summers who stood at his lord’s gesture to bow.

I began to panic, foreseeing that I would be wed again before midday. “My lord is not dead a week. Surely it is only fitting that I be allowed time to grieve?”

“All know you were estranged,” George insisted. “You can have no need of prolonged mourning.”

“A betrothal would be sufficient.” William granted me a cool glance. “Provided, of course, that you permitted your betrothed to occupy and defend the keep immediately.”

“And my bed without the benefit of vows exchanged?”

Neither earl appeared to have an issue with this detail.

I pushed to my feet and flung down my napkin, hoping to win my way with bravado. “You are all mad! You have no authority here and no right to force me to wed any man. If I wed again, I shall do so at my own choice, in my own time, and after a suitable courtship.”

“We dare not wait...” George began.

“Find me a runner!” I shouted. “I wish to send a petition to the king that I be defended against the avarice of my neighbors.”

“You have no right,” George began heatedly, but got no further before a ruckus erupted in the rear of the hall.

The men there turned toward the great portal and as wonder swept the company, cantering hoof beats could be heard. They were closer than the tunnel to the gates, within the very keep itself! I got to my feet, outraged at the audacity of some bandit.

“This is beyond belief!” I roared. “You come as my guests and desecrate my hall! I am outraged by such disrespect! The king’s justice has taken a rare flavor beneath your hand, Sir William.”

“But I know nothing of this...”

A great black destrier burst into the hall, silencing us all. It threw back its head and reared, giving a great whinny as its shod hooves pawed the air. The men scrambled out of its path, tipping tables and spilling wine in the their haste. Its mane was wild, its tail unfurled like a banner, but it was perfectly beneath its rider’s command.

When the beast began to canter toward the dais, stepping high and arching its neck, I heard the murmur of silver bells in its harness. The horse tossed its head and flared its nostrils. stamping impatiently on the floor with its great hooves. Its coat glistened and its sides heaved and I knew it had been running hard.

Then I saw that its rider was shrouded in a great dark cloak, a cloak lined with silver fur. Only the glint of his roguish smile was visible in the shadows within the hood.