For Love And Honor (36 page)

*
* * * *

As he
went up the tower steps, Will could hear Radulf, two levels above,
cursing at Baird and demanding to know why his rest should be
disturbed so early in the day, though it was by now
midmorn
ing. Almost immediately, two pairs of
booted feet rang on the stairs, coming
downward. Not wanting them to see him, Will knocked on the nearest
door. It opened at once and he ducked into Samira’s
room.

The maid Nena was pressed against the far
wall with both hands over her mouth as if to stifle a scream of
terror. It was Samira who had opened the door.

“Where are Spiros and Lucas?” she asked, her
voice trembling just a little. “If that dreadful Baird has harmed
them, he will answer to me. He had no right to take Spiros away so
roughly.”

“Your men are safe below,” Will told her. He
was filled with admiration at her calmness and her courage. That
she was in danger he did not doubt, but he did not know why. He was
about to ask her the meaning of what was happening and why her
guards were being held, when he heard Radulf and Baird passing by
her door. Will, Samira, and Nena all stood as if frozen until the
footsteps had faded.

When the men had gone by Will took a deep
breath, inhaling air filled with Samira’s scent, a blend of
southern flowers and tantalizing spice that suggested a world far
different from the one he knew. Looking around the room, he saw
that she must have dressed in some haste. The bedcovers were tossed
to one side, pieces of clothing were strewn here and there, and in
one corner of the room saddlebags were piled in an untidy heap. An
odd shape protruding from one of the bags caught Will’s eye. He
went to the corner and pulled out the metallic object, then stood
holding it while his heart sank and his hope for a future with
Samira vanished. In his hands he held the proof of Baird’s
accusations against the man known as Lucas.

“You brought this here,” he said, holding up
the four-pronged grapple with the remarkably long piece of rope
attached to it. He tugged at the rope, uncoiling part of it. “Good
saints in heaven, there’s enough rope here to reach from the tower
to the ground. There’s no room in the saddlebag for anything else.
Samira, how could you?”

“You don’t understand,” she said.

“Will you tell me that your servants brought
it into the castle and left it in your room and then used it
without your knowledge?” he asked.

“I knew about the grapple,” she said, “but we
had good reason for what we did.”

“Who are you really?” he muttered. “Why are
you here? Were you only pretending to like me?” That was the
hardest question of all to ask, and he was not certain if he wanted
to hear her answer.

“I was not pretending,” she said.

“Then I will hear your explanation.”

“Later I will tell you everything,” she
promised. “Will, it is essential to free your mother as quickly as
possible. She is the only one who can save me and those good men
whom Baird is holding in the hall.”

“Rohaise said something similar. But my
mother is not a prisoner.” Will held up the key, looking at it as
if it could answer his question. “Is she?”

There was a loud shout from below, followed
by the sounds of many voices. Moving quickly, Will stuffed the rope
and grapple back into the saddlebag and pushed it against the wall
so it would be as inconspicuous as possible.

“There’s no point in taking unnecessary
chances,” he said. His heart lifted at the grateful look Samira
gave him. “I will await your explanation with interest.”

The voices below grew louder. Will opened the
door a crack to hear better.

“What are you doing here?” It was Radulf
speaking, and though he sounded irritated, he did not seem to be
terribly angry.

By clinging to the wall side of the steps
Will was able to inch his way downward without being seen by either
the guard outside his mother’s door on the next level up from
Samira’s room, or by the men in the entry hall directly below.
Samira was right behind him, moving on silent feet. When he
motioned to her to return to her room she shook her head and put
one finger to her lips. Then she touched his shoulder and pointed
toward the hall.

Radulf was there, with a few of his
men-at-arms and at least half a dozen monks in black-hooded robes.
More monks crowded into the doorway from the inner bailey. One of
the monks, with a large gold cross hung upon his chest, had thrown
back his hood to reveal a bald pate with a fringe of white hair and
a kindly, wrinkled face. He spoke with a voice remarkably strong
and youthful for one so elderly.

“We are on our way to Lichfield,” this
apparent leader of the monks said, “and as darkness falls early
when the weather turns so foul, we are forced to beg lodging for
the night. Radulf, you cannot refuse a man of God, who is also an
old acquaintance and who was once related to you by marriage for a
short time.”

“You and I were never friends, Ambrose,” said
Radulf. “You once stole three of my best horses.”

“
No, we
were not friends,” Ambrose agreed, “but the debt of the horses
I
borrowed
has
long
been
repaid. Remember, Radulf, it was I who blessed your daughter’s
fruitful marriage to my nephew, the marriage that gave you your
grandson and heir. Now, what is this I see beyond us in your great
hall, but other kinsmen of mine, with your men set about them as if
they are prisoners. Radulf, what does this mean?”

“Your kinsmen?” exclaimed Radulf.

With perfect serenity Ambrose brushed past
Radulf to enter the hall, and Radulf’s men made no move to stop
him. Nor did anyone stop the monks who filed into the entry hall
and then to the great hall after Ambrose.

“Twenty of them,” Will whispered,
counting.

“Exactly right, and on time,” Samira
whispered back, her words adding to Will’s growing confusion.

Will waited until his grandfather and all of
the men had gone into the great hall before, with Samira behind
him, he turned around and started up the steps to his mother’s
room. There he boldly faced the guard, a burly fellow with a blank,
unintelligent face.

“My grandfather has sent me to take my mother
to the great hall,” Will said.

“Not so,” the guard declared. “I have
instructions from Baird not to let anyone in or out of this room
unless he or Baron Radulf personally tells me to.”

“Who else would give this key into my hand if
not Radulf, or Baird with Radulfs permission?” Will demanded,
showing the guard the key Rohaise had passed to him. “Would you
dare to disobey your liege lord?”

“I’m not sure about this.” The guard
hesitated, frowning and shaking his head, as if thinking was a
great effort for him.

“But, good sir,” Samira put in, “you are to
come with us.”

The guard stared at her with a stupid
expression until Samira gave him a coaxing smile.

“
Well,
then, if I’m still to guard Lady Joanna, I suppose it’s all right,”
the
man said, his eyes on Samira.

“Of course it is,” Samira said. “What is
planned for the next hour promises to be most interesting. You
won’t want to miss it.”

“Stand aside,” Will ordered, “and let me
unlock that door.”

He prayed the guard would offer no more
objections, nor run down to the hall to ask Radulf about the change
in orders. Will thought the best course would be to act as if he
had complete authority, as if he knew what was going on. “I said,
stand aside.”

The guard obeyed, and within a moment
Joanna’s door was open. Joanna stood in the middle of her room,
wearing a dark blue wool gown, with her hair falling loose down her
back and a comb in one hand. She looked from her son to the young
woman with him.

“Are you Samira?” she asked, sounding not at
all surprised by the sudden arrival of visitors.

“I am, my lady. I have a message for
you.”

“Mother,” Will broke in, “Rohaise sent me to
take you to the hall. There is something going on down there, and
Samira and her friends are in great danger. Do you know a monk
named Ambrose?”

“Ambrose is here?” Joanna asked.

“My lady,” Samira said, “I was told to say,
‘Alain sent me.’ “

“Alain?” Will gaped at Samira. “Will someone
please tell me what is happening?”

“The end of my imprisonment,” Joanna said,
smoothing her hair and tossing the comb aside, “or the end of all
of us. And Ambrose here, too, just as Alain promised. He has not
failed me; now I shall not fail him. Come, Will, Samira, let us not
keep them waiting.”

“Do you mean you are actually going to the
hall?” cried Will.

“My darling son.” Joanna patted his cheek,
then rested her hand on his shoulder. “I will not deny the danger
that awaits us there, but I promise, before this day is over, you
will have answers to all your questions. Shall we go?”

*
* * * *

She did
not wait for him to answer. Her chamber door stood wide open; the
guard outside it had drawn respectfully to one side to let her
pass. With her head high, Joanna led the young couple out of the
tower room, down the curving staircase
… and into the great hall just as Radulf was
loudly proclaiming Alain’s guilt in Crispin’s murder. Radulf saw
them come in. His eyebrows went up at the sight of Joanna, but he
did not prevent her from entering the hall to hear his attack on
Alain and Piers.

“
You fled
my justice once,” Radulf declared to Alain, “but you won’t escape
it a second time. I’ll have you hanged from t
he castle wall,
you and your accomplice here.”

“Grandfather.” Will left Joanna and Samira
and hurried to Radulf s side. “I heard the last part of your
accusation. Is this so? Did Sir Lucas and Sir Spiros kill my
father?”

“False names for false men,” said Radulf.
“From this priest’s own lips I heard him confess them his kinsmen,
and then I, too, recognized them. Aye, Will, these are Alain of
Woodward and Piers of Stokesbrough, returned to the scene of their
crime.”

“
Grandfather.” Will’s youthful face was pale, his mouth set
in a hard line. He put out his right hand toward Radulf. “Give me
your sword. It is my right
– no, more than a right, it is my duty to execute the men
who murdered my father. Give me leave, Grandfather. Do not turn
them over to Baird.”

“
So, you
are my true heir after all.” With glittering eyes Radulf regarded
his grandson. “These past weeks since you returned from fostering,
I have feared you might have grown up too soft. Aye, my boy, it’s
but your own right you’ve claimed. No o
ne here will deny you
your vengeance. Go to it, lad. Let justice be done at last.
Stab them in the belly as they
once stabbed your father. Guards, hold those killers still for
their execution.” After a triumphant look in Joanna’s direction
Radulf drew his sword and put it into Will’s right hand.

Two men-at-arms took Alain, pulling his arms
out from his body and holding him so he was immobilized from the
waist up. Two other men-at-arms took Piers in the same way.

“
I
considered you friends.” Will advanced on them, lifting Radulf’s
sword. “I invited you into my home and made you welcome. You sat at
table with me and ate the food I offered. Liars. Murderers!
Thieves! You stole my father’s life from me before ever I was
born.” He pointed the sword at Alain
and stood poised to
strike.

“
No!”
Joanna’s scream tore through the hall. She flung herself
upon Alain, covering his body with her own. “If you want to kill
him, you must kill me first.”

The men-at-arms were so surprised by Joanna’s
sudden forward rush that they loosened their hold on Alain. He
pulled his arms free, caught Joanna in a tight embrace, and thrust
her behind him.

At the same time Piers also pulled free from
the startled men holding him, and when his right arm dropped from
their grasp Rohaise put a sword into his hand.

“No one saw me pick it up,” she whispered.
“Use it well.”

“I’m going to need it.” Piers started forward
to where Samira stood alone in the center of the hall. Radulf also
moved toward her, one hand outstretched to capture her wrist.
Samira saw him coming and sidestepped his reach, just as Piers
placed himself between them.

“Lay one finger on my daughter and you die,”
Piers said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Daughter?” cried Will and Rohaise in
unison.

“It’s true,” Samira said. Ignoring the
men-at-arms with drawn swords who were menacing her and Piers, she
went on, “I am the daughter of Piers, Baron of Ascoli, a title my
father won by his great valor. And now it is time for the whole
truth to be told. Uncle Ambrose, will you convince Lord Radulf here
to allow those who want to speak to do so?”

“
Not I,”
said Ambrose, moving to her side, “for I have not touched a weapon
since I became a priest, but I believe these men-at-arms will
convince Radulf more readily t
han I ever could.”

“What men-at-arms?” shouted Radulf, looking
about the hall. “I see no one save my own dozen men, and they will
not listen to you, priest.”

Ambrose had only to move his head a little
and the men who had come in with him threw off their priestly robes
to reveal chainmail and swords beneath the covering. When Radulf
spun on his heel to head for the entrance and there call for
reinforcements he discovered two pair of the newcomers standing
back to back, preventing anyone from entering or leaving the great
hall. Radulf’s men looked about uncertainly, as if awaiting orders.
Baird stood alone with one hand on his sword hilt, watching
Radulf.