Midnight Magic (7 page)
“Nay, my lord. You must not give chase. The risk is too great! Pray return to the safety of the keep.”
Prudence demanded he heed Sedwick’s advice, no matter that he didn’t like it. He was lord of Camelen now, and lords didn’t go chasing in the brush for rogues when he could send others. Lords didn’t put themselves in danger for less than excellent reasons. He wished he could think of an excellent reason for getting himself shot at a second time. None came to mind.
He nodded his reluctant consent, and a moment later two men galloped off in pursuit of the archer, who was probably long gone.
Alberic climbed the church steps and tugged on the arrow. It failed to budge. The damn thing would have to be dug out.
“My lord, we should be off.”
He heard the nervousness in Odell’s suggestion, knew the man made as much sense as Sedwick, but couldn’t stop staring at the slender rod of yew that had been aimed at his head and damn near found its mark.
The warning was all too clear. Someone took exceptional umbrage to Alberic of Chester’s lordship over Camelen and intended to do something about it.
G
WEN, CEASE PACING!
Have you naught at all to do?”
She acquiesced to Emma’s request by plopping down on the bed the two of them had shared since their youth, and in which Emma no longer suffered. With her headache gone, Emma apparently felt well enough to express displeasure at her restless sister. She certainly looked better, her color more normal and her disposition less troubling. Gwendolyn still didn’t understand why Emma had declared her headaches a penance, and had decided not to bring the subject up again, blaming grief for marring her sister’s usual good sense.
But then, if Emma was so overwrought, how could she calmly sit in the chamber’s ornate chair, embroidering the hem of a garnet tunic’s sleeve with gold thread?
A tunic meant for Alberic.
“Nay. Now all look to Alberic or Sedwick for instruction.” To Gwendolyn’s own ears she sounded petulant, and admitted the lack of duties wore on her nerves.
Alberic’s very presence wore on her nerves. She found his sitting in her father’s chair at the dais at mealtimes irksome. To know he slept in the lord’s bedchamber was so bothersome she could barely sleep. If one more servant remarked on how handsome and gallant and brave was the new lord of Camelen, she might be tempted to scream.
True, Alberic was both handsome and gallant. While she’d felt a kinship with him during their short talk yesterday, and admired the clean-shaven, rugged cut of his chin, she preferred not to be reminded of her enemy’s qualities. As for brave, he’d returned yesterday from the village and stuck the offending arrow into a pillar, announcing his intention to capture the man responsible for its flight. This morning, he’d taken out one of her father’s prize falcons to hunt, and all wondered what game he truly meant to bring back.
“Surely Alberic would not begrudge you overseeing the garden, or seeing to the needs of Camelen’s people,” Emma suggested. “Perhaps a walk out to the village would calm you.”
“The ground is still too hard for planting, and we are not allowed outside the walls without guards. And until Alberic returns from his hunt, there are no guards to spare from their duties. I feel a prisoner in my own home.”
Emma looked up from her stitching. “You are usually the calm pool, not the boiling river, and your ceaseless discontent is putting everyone on edge. You had best find
something
to do before you push us all to madness.”
“I fail to see how you can be so tranquil and accepting. We have been as good as conquered, and with the exception of a lone archer, everyone seems willing to serve the conqueror! Do you not find that disquieting? Nor has he seen fit to tell us of the king’s plans for . . . us. How long are we supposed to wait?”
Not that the king’s plans for them affected her. She would be gone soon, depending upon when she convinced Alberic to give up the seal of the dragon. However, her sisters’ fates were of great concern.
“Perhaps Alberic does not know of the king’s plans because none have yet been made. And all considered, the conquest could have been worse. We were not forced to suffer a siege, nor has his lordship made overbearing demands. Lord Alberic may have conquered, but he did so in civil, bloodless fashion. Indeed, he can be a pleasant man.”
“Oh, Emma, has he charmed you to complacency, too?”
Emma smiled. “Would you rather him a beast? Should he allow the king’s soldiers to rape and loot and pillage?”
“Nay, but ’tis unnatural for all to bow down so willingly.” Gwendolyn’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know he is pleasant? You have been ill most of the time he has been here.”
“Not too ill to observe. And I talked to him a few moments this morning, to ask his preference on the embroidery.” Emma secured the needle in the fabric and held it to the side; Gwendolyn sensed an oncoming lecture. “You should truly make an effort at courtesy, Gwen. We do not yet know how Alberic intends to deal with us, and after what happened yesterday I shudder to think of what action he might be forced to take if the villain is not found soon.” She wagged a finger. “While we speak of courtesy, you must also be kinder to Garrett. None of this is his fault.”
“He brought Alberic here, did he not?”
“Garrett had little choice if he wanted to return to his wife and children. ’Struth, Father knew the risks when he sided with Empress Maud. And he lost all. If you persist in raging against the inevitable, we may suffer more.”
Emma’s complacency rankled. All might not be lost.
Gwendolyn leaned forward. “Several of Camelen’s men who survived Wallingford chose not to serve Alberic. Do you think any of them might have gone to Bristol? Is it possible the Empress Maud or the earl of Gloucester might send troops to liberate us? Perhaps the archer is an assassin sent to rid us of Alberic.”
Emma shook her head. “Be sensible, Gwen. I am sure the empress has more urgent battles to fight. If she has not the troops to send to Wallingford’s aid, then certes she has not the means of laying siege to Camelen to overthrow Lord Alberic.”
So Gwendolyn had feared, but couldn’t help but hope.
So be it, then. She would do as Emma suggested and be sensible, but not in the way her sister hoped.
’Twas time to retrieve the ring and arrange to leave Camelen, going first to her uncle’s stronghold, and from there to Madog ap Idwal in Powys.
She knew little of her betrothed beyond that he possessed a good deal of land, and her father judged him well suited to be her husband and a partner in the legacy. To him she would give herself and the ring.
But first she had to get the ring.
Gwendolyn heard someone running in the passageway. Thinking Nicole must be done with her morning lessons, she paid no attention until the door opened with a bang.
“My ladies, you must come down to the hall quickly!” a serving wench demanded. “Lady Nicole has tried to murder Lord Alberic!”
Heart pounding, Gwendolyn slid off the bed and scurried down the passageway and stairs, Emma at her heels.
In the hall, Odell stood behind Nicole, holding her by her elbows. Alberic stood a few feet in front of the girl, studying a dagger Gwendolyn recognized as William’s, which she’d left on the table in his chamber.
She allowed herself to breathe when she saw no blood on either attacker or victim. Still, Nicole’s attempt to draw blood could reap harsh punishment.
Emma rushed past Gwendolyn. “My lord, you have my sincere apology for my sister’s—”
“Silence!” he shouted, bringing Emma to a halt, his ire focused on Nicole. “Are you aware I could hang you for your treachery?”
Nicole paled, but her defiant expression didn’t waver.
Horrified, Gwendolyn cried, “Nicole is merely a little girl! We give you our oath she will never try this again.”
“You are right, she will not,” Alberic agreed, then turned to another of the king’s soldiers. “Find Garrett. Have him join me and the ladies in my bedchamber.”
Then he pointed the dagger toward the stairs. “Up.”
“Murderer!” Nicole spat out. “You should hang, not me!”
“Up!” he shouted again.
Odell pushed Nicole toward the stairs. Gwendolyn followed close behind, remembering how she’d tried to explain to Nicole that death in battle wasn’t murder, and that every king’s man shouldn’t be blamed for their loved ones’ deaths. Apparently she hadn’t convinced the child, who now might pay a high price.
My fault.
Guilt battered Gwendolyn with each step, wondering what she could have said differently. Yesterday in William’s chamber, if she’d paid more attention to Nicole instead of shooing her out of the room, given the girl more hugs and chances to speak her mind, this horrible situation might not have come to pass.
Sweet mercy, she couldn’t imagine Alberic would truly hang Nicole, but neither could he allow an attempt on his life to go unpunished, no matter that his attacker was a mere slip of a girl.
Gwendolyn entered the lord’s bedchamber directly behind Nicole and Odell, who still held tight to his captive. Behind her she heard Emma, and farther behind the sound of heavy boots.
Knowing she had but a moment before Alberic entered, Gwendolyn scrunched down to confront Nicole, whose face had gone paler still. Unshed tears glittered in her eyes, yet she fairly glowed with rebellious anger.
Gwendolyn had to admire Nicole’s bravery. However, now was the time for a bit of humility and admission of wrongdoing if the girl expected any mercy from Alberic.
“Nicole, we talked about the difference between death on the battlefield and murder. I thought you understood.”
“He killed William.”
Emma gasped. “Dear heaven above!”
A chill ran down Gwendolyn’s spine, dread nearly overcoming her ability to speak. She managed to blurt out, “What?”
Nicole’s bottom lip trembled. “I overheard a kitchen scullion tell Cook. Lord Alberic killed William.”
Gwendolyn clung to shards of reason. “You know better than to listen to servants’ idle talk.”
“Ask him. If he denies it to you, he lies!”
She heard the snick of the latch, knew Alberic had heard Nicole’s accusation. When she finally gathered the courage to look up, she needed only to see his grim expression to know Nicole told the truth.
Alberic was responsible for William’s death.
Alberic had known this day would come and was prepared for the sisters’ shock and horror and anger. What he hadn’t seen coming, not in his wildest dreams, was the youngest of them getting her hands on a dagger and daring to attack him.
He’d disarmed her easily enough, but if she hadn’t shouted at him, reviling him, giving him ample warning, he might now be prostrate on the hall’s floor with a dagger stuck in his belly.
This second attempt on his life was far more unsettling than the first. A man letting loose an arrow with intent to kill an enemy, he understood. A girl wielding a dagger with murder in her heart defied all sense.
Unlike the rogue archer, Alberic doubted he could hang Nicole, but wasn’t sure what else to do with the child.
Gwendolyn rose slowly, her condemning glare feeding the unwarranted guilt he thought he’d put aside at the vigil. He was very careful not to let it show now.
“You killed William.”
An accusation seeking confirmation.
He crossed the chamber and tossed the dagger on the heavy oak pedestal table, then poured himself a healthy dose of wine, trying to decide how to answer her, or if he should answer at all. ’Struth, he owed the sisters no explanations or apologies for all that had occurred at Wallingford.
“I happened to be the last man to cross swords with William, is all. No more, no less. Your brother died, I did not.”
Gwendolyn’s bosom rose and fell in indignation, a movement so sublime he couldn’t help but appreciate the upward thrust of those softly rounded mounds.
“Is that why the king awarded you Camelen, for slaying William?”
Of all the fool notions. “Nay. There were other reasons.”
Which he didn’t intend to reveal just now, if ever. He saw no good reason to inform Gwendolyn of the king’s mistaken notion that awarding a barony to the earl of Chester’s bastard would warrant Chester’s loyalty. Best to keep focus on why they were all gathered in his bedchamber.
“Odell, you may release Nicole if I have her assurance she has no other weapon on her person.”
“Wish I did,” the girl muttered.
Emma stretched out a hand. “Be thankful you do not.”
Freed, Nicole went to her elder sister just as someone rapped hard and sharp at the door.
“My lord? ’Tis Garrett.”
“Enter.”
The knight did so, his gaze flickering to each of the females in turn, then landing for a long moment on Nicole. Assuring himself she hadn’t yet been beaten? Likely.
Garrett finally closed the door. “My lord, I have been informed of the events in the hall. I ask you to consider that Nicole is a mere child.”
“A willful, malicious child.”
“Not usually, though she does tend to act before she considers the consequences. These past days have been very hard for her, as they have for us all. The girl needs time to adjust.”
Alberic had known from the beginning that everyone at Camelen needed time to grieve for the old and become accustomed to the new, especially the daughters of Hugh de Leon. He’d tried to accommodate them, hold them on a loose rein. Too loose, apparently, for Nicole.
“Nicole’s actions cannot go unpunished.”
“I agree, my lord. I merely ask you to consider her sex, youth, and noble birth.”
So what did one do with a young noble female who’d attempted to stick a dagger in his gullet?
Send her away.
One to marry, one to court, one to a convent.
Alberic downed the last of his wine. He’d planned to put off deciding on the dispersal of the sisters for another fortnight or so, using that time to best judge which would suit as his wife, and which of them would be best suited for convent or court. But at the moment, the answer seemed so clear.
He dare not trust Nicole to behave in reputable fashion. If he sent her to court, when surrounded by the king’s men she detested, she might well find another dagger and target another victim. The girl would surely benefit from the peace and discipline of a convent.