Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (13 page)

Geoffrey decided not to press her. The approaching soldiers would be at the gates in bare minutes. Still, he did not wish to end the discussion in such a harsh manner. “I have promised to protect you and your brother. Remember that.”

“Aye, husband,” Elizabeth said. She kept her expression neutral and started toward the doors. When she reached the top step, she turned back to her husband, found that he watched her, and nodded. “I trust you, my lord.” To herself, she added, Do not fail me.

A
S SOON AS
E
LIZABETH WAS SAFELY INSIDE THE CASTLE,
Geoffrey turned his attention to the waiting men. “Harold, double the number on the walls,” he said to one knight. To another he announced, “Only Belwain will be allowed entrance this day.” Roger caught his glance and he stopped his orders while he watched the older knight carry little Thomas, like a sack of grain under his arm, toward the castle doors. Without turning back to his soldiers he said, “Send Belwain to me when he arrives. I will be waiting inside.”

Geoffrey started toward the great hall when he was intercepted by his loyal squire, Gerald. He ignored him until he reached the handle to the heavy doors. Roger, finished with his duty of delivering the boy to his sister, almost collided with the eager squire, who had lunged ahead of his lord to open the door.

“Stay outside with the men,” Geoffrey told the squire.

“I would stay near you, my lord,” the squire argued, a worried frown on his freckled face.

“For what purpose?” Geoffrey asked.

“I would protect your back,” the squire stated. “That is
my
duty,” Roger all but barked at the lad. The reprimand had the desired effect on the squire. He seemed to shrink considerably before his lord’s eyes. “You two believe that my back needs protecting?” Geoffrey asked.

“From what is being said, my lord,” the squire answered before Roger could open his mouth.

“Then Roger will see to the task,” Geoffrey announced. “Today you will protect my walls,” he added. “Your duty is to watch and listen. And learn.”

The disappointment of not being in on the interview with his new mistress’s uncle showed on the squire’s face but Geoffrey was in no mood to appease. He had too much on his mind. “Follow my orders without question, Gerald. There are no second chances if you are to become a knight. Is that understood?”

The squire placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Aye, my lord. I will follow your orders.” He glanced up, saw the nod from his leader, and quickly turned to leave.

“He needs to learn to hold his tongue, that one does,” Roger told Geoffrey as they walked side by side into the great hall.

“Aye, and to cover his emotions. But he is still young—only fifteen, if I remember. There is still time to mold him properly.” Geoffrey smiled at Roger and then added, “He is quite skilled on the battlefield, always there to hand me whatever weapon I desire, seemingly fearless of injury to himself.”

“But that is his duty,” Roger protested.

“True, but he does it well, does he not?” he asked his companion.

“Aye, he does, and he is loyal,” Roger admitted.

“Perhaps I will assign him to you, Roger,” Geoffrey decided. “You could teach him much.”

“No more than you, my lord,” Roger stated. He sat down on the bench and leaned his elbows on the wooden table. The linen cloth had been removed and the scratches in the wood were visible. “Besides, the lad would drive me to the brink with his eagerness. I’m too old to waste what patience I have left.”

Geoffrey chuckled. “You are not that much older than I, Roger. Do not give me such paltry excuses.”

“If you order it, I will see to the boy’s training,” Roger conceded.

“I will not order it, my friend. The choice is yours. Think on it and advise me later.”

“Think you Belwain responsible for the murders?” Roger asked, changing the subject.

Geoffrey’s face lost its smile. He leaned against the table’s edge and rubbed his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “I do not know,” he said after a minute. “My wife believes him guilty.”

“And so do the servants I spoke with,” Roger added. “They all remember the argument the two brothers had and how Belwain made many loud threats.”

“That is not enough to condemn a man,” Geoffrey answered. “Foolish men say many things in anger that they later regret, and an angry tongue does not mean one is guilty. I will hear what he has to say before I decide.”

“It would seem to me that he is the only one to gain from his brother’s death.”

“Not the only one,” Geoffrey contradicted in a quiet voice. “There is another.”

His scowl stopped Roger from asking more. He would have to be content to wait and see what happened. He had no doubt that his lord would get to the bottom of the riddle, find the one responsible. Having been in Geoffrey’s service for so long, Roger had come
to understand how his lord thought, how he reasoned. The Hawk was a careful man, given to logical inclinations, and did not make rash judgments. He believed in fairness and rarely based his decisions on hearsay. In truth, Roger acknowledged with pride, his lord was a fair and reasonable ruler.

Would his lord’s reasoning be affected or influenced by his new wife? Roger considered. Geoffrey certainly was taken with her, Roger knew, though he tried mightily to act quite indifferent when she was about. But then Roger was also taken with her. No, whether it be his wife’s family or not, Roger felt sure his lord would proceed as he always had in the past. He would not kill without just cause.

The door to the castle opened and both men turned. Two guards appeared at the entrance, a stranger between them. Belwain had arrived.

Geoffrey motioned to the guards and they quickly departed. Belwain, small in stature and elegantly dressed in peacock green and yellow, but with a wide girth, hesitated at the entrance to the hall. “I am Belwain Montwright,” he finally announced in a nasal whine. He dabbed at his nose with a lacy white handkerchief while he waited for a response.

Geoffrey stared at the man before him for a full minute before answering. “I am your baron,” he said in a forceful voice. “You may enter.”

The lord leaned against the wooden table again and watched his wife’s uncle as he hurried into the room. The man was walking as though he was being hindered by an imaginary rope tied to both ankles. Geoffrey found Belwain’s voice as offensive as his motions. It was high-pitched with a scratch attached to it.

There was absolutely no resemblance to Thomas Montwright, Geoffrey thought. He remembered Thomas as a tall, vibrant man. The younger brother, now kneeling before him, appeared to be an old woman in men’s garb.

“I pledge you my fealty, my lord,” Belwain said, one hand over his heart.

“Do not give me your pledge, for I will not accept it until I know what is in your mind. Stand!” The harshly ordered words had the appropriate effect. Belwain was suitably intimidated, Geoffrey decided. His eyes, glazed with terror, told Geoffrey that.

When Belwain was standing before him, Geoffrey said, “Many blame you for what happened here. You will now tell me what you know of this matter.”

The uncle took several gulping breaths before answering. “I knew nothing of the attack, my lord. I heard of it only after the fact. As God is my witness, I had nothing to do with this. Nothing. Thomas was my brother. I
loved
him!”

“You have a strange way of mourning your brother,” Geoffrey said. At Belwain’s confused expression, Geoffrey continued, “It is proper to wear black, and you do not.”

“I wore the best that I owned, to show honor for my dead brother,” Belwain answered. “He liked colorful tunics,” Belwain added, stroking the sleeve of one arm as he spoke.

Disgust welled up in Geoffrey’s throat like burning bile. This was no man standing before him but a weakling. The lord kept his expression neutral, but found it a difficult task. To gain additional control, he turned and walked over to the hearth.

Turning back to Belwain, he said, “The last time you saw your brother there was an argument?” Geoffrey’s voice was almost pleasant now, as if he was greeting an old friend.

Belwain didn’t immediately answer. His eyes, like a cornered rat, darted from his lord to the knight sitting at the table, and then back to Geoffrey again. He seemed to be considering his options. “It is true, my lord,” he answered. “And I shall carry the burden of
saying harsh words to my brother for the rest of my days. We parted last in anger, of that I am guilty.”

“What was the argument about?” Geoffrey inquired, totally unmoved by Belwain’s tear-filled admission. Compassion was the last thing in Geoffrey’s mind.

Belwain watched the lord, saw that he seemed unmoved by his impassioned speech, and continued in a less dramatic voice. “My brother promised me additional land for planting. Yet each year he would further the date for handing over the land, always with some insignificant reason. My brother was a good man but not given to generosity. And the last time I saw him, I was sure I would get the land. I was sure! He had used up his reasons,” Belwain added, “but again he dangled the carrot before me and then at the last minute withdrew it.”

Belwain’s face had turned a blotched red as he spoke, and his voice lost some of the whine. “I had reached my limit and was tired of his games,” he said. “I told him as much and we began to yell at one another. He threatened me then, my lord. Yes, he did! He threatened his only brother. I had to leave. Thomas had a terrible temper and many enemies, you know,” he added. “Many enemies.”

“And you believe one of his ‘many enemies’ killed him and his family?”

“Yes, I do.” Belwain nodded vigorously. “I tell you again, I had nothing to do with it. And I have proof that I was nowhere about. There are those who will tell you if you will allow me to bring them inside.”

“I have no doubt that you have friends who will state you were with them while your brother and his family were slaughtered. No doubt at all,” Geoffrey said. His voice was mild, but his eyes were chilling.

“Yes,” Belwain said, standing taller. “I am not guilty and I can prove I am not.”

“I have not said you are guilty,” Geoffrey replied.
He tried to keep his voice neutral, for he had no wish to let Belwain know what he was feeling inside. Belwain, he hoped, would be lulled into a false sense of security, and perhaps become more easily trapped. “I have only just begun to look into this matter, you understand.”

“Aye, my lord. But I am sure that in the end I will be a freeman. Perhaps the new lord of Montwright lands, eh?” Belwain stopped himself just in time. He almost rubbed his hands with delight. It was easier than he had anticipated. The overlord, though quite intimidating in appearance, was most simple in his reasoning, Belwain hastily judged.

“Thomas’s son is heir to Montwright,” Geoffrey answered.

“Yes, that is most true, my lord,” Belwain hurried to correct himself. “But as only uncle, I assumed that, once proven innocent of this terrible deed, that I . . . that is, that you would place the boy under my guardianship. It is the law,” he added with emphasis.

“The boy’s sister does not trust you, Belwain. She believes you guilty.” Geoffrey watched Belwain’s reaction to his statement and felt a rage begin to boil inside. Belwain was sneering.

“She knows nothing! And she will change her tune when I am in charge,” he scoffed. “Too much freedom that one has had.” There was genuine dislike in his voice, and he almost lost his life in that moment it took for Geoffrey to gain control.

He is a stupid man, Geoffrey thought. Stupid and weak. A dangerous combination.

“You speak of my wife, Belwain.”

His statement had the desired effect. Belwain lost all color and almost collapsed to his knees. “Your wife! I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I did not mean, that is—”

“Enough!” Geoffrey barked. “Return to your men and wait until I send for you again.”

“I am not to stay here?” Belwain asked, the whine back in his voice.

“Leave me,” Geoffrey bellowed. “And be content that you still have your life, Belwain. I have not ruled out your guilt in this matter.”

Belwain opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and snapped it shut. He turned and hurried from the room.

“God! Can he be brother to Thomas?” Roger said when the doors were closed. He all but shuddered with revulsion.

“He is afraid and yet brazen at the same time,” Geoffrey answered.

“What think you, Hawk? Is he the one? Did he do it, plan it?”

“What do you think, Roger?” Geoffrey asked. “Guilty,” Roger stated.

“Based on?”

“Based on . . . disgust,” Roger admitted after a time. “Nothing more. I would like for him to be guilty.”

“That is not enough.”

“Then you do not think him guilty, my lord?”

“I did not say that. It is too soon to tell. Belwain is a stupid man. He thought of lying about the argument with his brother but decided against it. I could read the indecision in his eyes. And he is weak, Roger. I think too weak to plan such a bold thing. He appears to be a follower, not a leader.”

“Aye, I had not thought of it that way,” Roger admitted.

“I do not think he is completely innocent, but he did not do the planning. Of that I’m sure. No,” Geoffrey said, shaking his head, “someone else is behind the deed.”

“What will you do now?”

“Draw the guilty out,” Geoffrey stated. “And I will use Belwain as my tool.”

“I do not understand.”

“I must think over my plan,” Geoffrey said. “Perhaps I will take Belwain into my confidence. Make false promises to him. Suggest that the boy will be given into his care. Then we will see.”

“What is your reasoning, my lord?”

“Whoever planned this wanted
my
lands. They attacked Montwright and they therefore attacked me. You operate on the premise that it was only Montwright the guilty was after. I do not limit my thoughts in just one direction, Roger. I must look at all the possibilities.”

“Sometimes the most simple conclusion is also the most correct,” Roger answered.

“Know this, Roger. Nothing is ever as it appears. You fool only yourself if you believe what is easiest to believe.”