Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown (26 page)

Claude smiled. "I waste no more time. You brought me a book.
You said it was Diccon's book. Was it?"

Redmond heard the words dimly. His head rang, and he could
taste blood. He said thickly, "Yes."

"Do you know," purred Claude, "I think I do not quite believe
this. Why would you give me a notebook you knew to be of such great
value?''

Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, Redmond answered,
"It got me in here."

"And you gave it me in exactly the same condition as when you
received it?"

Redmond lifted his head and looked this maniac squarely in the
eye. He said with a faint grin, "Why, Claude, are you accusing me of
forgery?"

Guy swore under his breath. Charity bit her lip and shrank,
waiting for Claude to strike again. Instead, the hot glare in the brown
eyes faded. He murmured, "Such admirable courage. Such staunch devotion
I find difficult to comprehend. Why, Redmond? Why should an
intelligent, educated man such as yourself be willing to risk all for
that—that fat little German fool? Do you so revere him?"

"Yes. Because he is not an individual. To all intents and
purposes, he is England."

It was said quietly and without bravado, but Charity's heart
swelled with pride. She said clearly, "Bravo!"

Claude smiled at her. "Guy," he called, "be so kind as to
bring Miss Strand over here."

Charity's knees turned to water. She saw Redmond's tense face
turn to her. The side of his mouth was bleeding a little. She thought,
"I must not make him ashamed for me."

Frowning, Guy said, "I shall not see her harmed, Claude."

"But, my dear, how can you think such wickedness of me? Of
course I shall not hurt her. It is quite unnecessary that I do so. Mr.
Redmond is going to tell me every detail I want to know—I promise you."

Guy murmured, "Be brave, little one," and led her forward.

"There," said Claude, rubbing his hands together and beaming
from one to the other of them. "Now we can all be comfortable and not
have to lift up the voices. Dear little Miss Strand, you have the
fortitude most admirable. But you have also too much trust, you know.
Let me explain this. We have here"—he waved a graceful white hand
toward Redmond—"a fine example of British manhood. He has looks, birth,
breeding, and you see him as a manly, brave fellow,
oui
?"

"I think him very brave indeed," she said, her heart
fluttering frantically against her ribs.

"Would you believe me," said Claude, all benevolence, "if I
say that within ten minutes—less perhaps—this so-called brave man will
kneel before me? Will grovel? Will tell me each detail I ask? Will
betray his king, his country, his family? Will even plead that I
question
you
instead of himself?"

Charity slanted a quick glance at Redmond. He stood very
still, watching Claude levelly. "No, sir," she said. "That I would not
believe."

" Ah. So—I must prove what I say." He beckoned to Shotten, who
had stood with his head slightly tilted, watching the quiet drama as
one somewhat perplexed by it all. Claude turned aside a little,
murmuring something into Shotten's ear. The big man began to grin,
laughed, looked at Redmond, and walked to a corner of the room.

Charity was trembling. She felt Guy's hand tighten on her
elbow. She saw Shotten take something from the wall and come back. At
first she thought the object he carried was a long-tined broom of some
kind, but as he came closer she saw it to be a multithonged whip, and
for an instant the room blurred before her eyes.

His grin exultant, his eyes very bright, Claude said, "Do you
know, Redmond, you do not look well. I wonder if perhaps you are…
remembering?"

Redmond said nothing, but his gaze was fixed unblinkingly on
that murderous whip, and suddenly his face was drawn and white as chalk.

''You may let him go,'' said Claude."He will do nothing. You
see, he is too frightened.'' He took the whip from Shotten, and the
footmen stepped back.

''I wonder,'' Claude said, "if you really came here to save
Miss Strand. If so, I expect you labour under that strange delusion
that men of your stamp call
l'amour
.''

Redmond shook his head.

''You must not lie to me any more,'' chided Claude. ''Do you
know, Miss Strand, this poor fellow is acquainted with one of these.
See—" He reached out and shook the whip in Redmond's face.

Flinging one arm before his eyes, Redmond fairly leapt back.

Claude laughed delightedly. "You see? He is terrified. I shall
tell you why. It happened—oh, one year ago, or thereabouts. My beloved
brother, Parnell, had a ward he admired deeply. An annoying chit, but
he planned to make her his bride. Harry Redmond had the gall, the
unmitigated insolence, to persuade her that Parnell was a bad man, and
so frightened her that she ran away with him. Parnell followed,
naturellement
.
When he came up with their camp, Harry was gone and had left this fine
fellow to guard Annabelle. She knew that she had been very naughty, and
she was afraid she might be spanked, so she hid. Now, my Parnell had a
little— just a trace you understand—of the temper. And he did not
propose to spend a great time searching the woods for his capricious
lady. So he tied Sir Harry's brave brother to a cart, and he whipped
him until Annabelle heard how this hero screamed, and came back. To
save him."

Her eyes enormous in her pale face, Charity stared at him.

So that was how Redmond's back had been so brutally scarred!
Appalled, she kept her eyes from Redmond, but she knew that he was
standing with his head downbent.

Guy said in a strained voice,"He did not make one sound,
Claude. You know this."

"I saw Mr. Redmond's back, Monsieur Sanguinet," said Charity.
"I wonder he did not die."

"It
is
a pity," sighed Claude. "But we
shall take up where my dear Parnell left off. Or would you prefer to
tell me now, my dauntless Briton?" Again, he shook the whip and, again,
Redmond shrank, one hand lifting protectively.'' Look at the pride of
it," said Claude, laughing. "Will you not observe the valour? Do you
not find it pathetic, mademoiselle?"

Redmond's dark head sank lower. His fists were tight-clenched,
but he neither moved nor spoke.

Hilarious, Claude said, "Do you—do you know what he has been
doing this year and more? He has been roving Europe, fighting,
womanizing, getting himself such a wicked reputation as a rake and a
duellist—no? No! He has been trying to prove he is still a man! And
now—here we are again, brave one. Another lady to watch you whine and
crawl. Another whip. Is it worth it, eh?"

Redmond's head came up. He leapt for Claude, but was pulled
back, his arms twisted so savagely that he gasped with the pain. "Damn
you…"he said brokenly. "
Damn you
! Face me man to
man—with swords or pistols, or bare hands, if you've the—"

"Nonsense! I do not play silly heroics. You will tell me now.
You
did
tamper with my book, did you not? You
changed some of the entries.''

Redmond watched, haggard-eyed, as Claude swung the whip
lazily, the thongs swishing in a faintly metallic whisper. Hypnotized,
he muttered, "I—did."

Charity winced and had to turn away.

"And the matter of Admiral Deal's treachery. This was your
invention?"

Redmond was silent. One of the footmen shoved him and said
contemptuously, "You should have a care, monseigneur. I think he will
very soon faint.''

They all enjoyed this witticism, while Charity blinked away
tears, Redmond's eyes closed and his head bowed low, and Guy stood very
still, face grim.

Without warning, Claude cracked the whip so that just the tips
of the steel-laced thongs touched his victim's chest. Redmond jerked
back against the footmen's restraining arms. His voice a harsh croak he
admitted, "Yes. I altered it."

"Now that," said Claude, sobering, "was very bad in you. You
see, a brave man you are not, but an actor you are. I believed you when
first you came here. And thus, Gerard carries with him the Admiral's
death warrant. I fear I cannot at all hope to countermand that order,
and the Admiral was useful. I am vexed with you, Redmond. But, we must
proceed. Now—there was very much in Diccon's little book that was quite
the—what is it you say?—the eye-opener. It would be only sensible for
you to make a copy for yourself, no? So that when you go back in
triumph to London, having slain this wicked dragon that is Claude
Sanguinet, you may lay your so dangerous proofs at the feet of your
foolish Prince. So you see, I must ask, did you make a copy, my friend?
Did you?"

Redmond shook his head, perspiration streaking down his
agonized face.

Smiling, Claude trod closer yet, the whip lifting.

"Don't…" Mitchell whispered, shrinking back. "Please… please
don't."

Claude swept the whip high. And frenziedly, Redmond cried, "I
copied it!"

Gripping her hands together and pressing them against her
trembling lips, Charity prayed.

Amused, Claude said, "Do you see now of what stuff heroes are
made, my dear? This whimpering apology for a man would cut your heart
out if I asked it." And turning back to his victim, he demanded, "Where
is the book you copied? Speak up, Sir Gallantry. Where is it?"

Redmond's head was low again, but he did not answer. Charity
could guess the shame he must be feeling, and she felt an aching pity
for him.

"Do you know," Claude murmured, enjoying himself hugely, "I
believe that now I shall prove a point." Swinging the whip, he strolled
towards Charity. "Watch, Redmond, and give me my answer when you tire
of hearing this innocent girl scream…"

"Like
hell
I will!"

Two startled footmen found that the shaking craven they so
contemptuously held had become a wild man. With a primeval growl
Redmond tore free from their careless clasp, caught an arm of each man,
and swung with a strength bom of fury. Two rogues came suddenly and
violently eye to eye and, groaning, clutched their battered faces.

Whirling about, Claude swung the whip and sent it hissing at
Redmond's back. Charity heard the crack as those wicked thongs landed.
She saw Redmond's slim body arch, his head jerking back. Claude laughed
shrilly and swung up the whip again.

Guy leapt to catch one of the whirling thongs and tugged with
all his strength. The whip was wrenched from Claude's hand and sent
spinning into a far corner. With an incoherent snarl of fury, Claude
turned on his brother.

Through his teeth, Guy said, "You have threatened those I
love, kept me in subjugation, shamed me all my life. But, by God, I'll
not stand for this!"

Claude's hand darted to an inner pocket.

Propelled by the accumulated misery of long wretched years,
Guy's fist came up. It landed hard and true. Claude did a little
backward leap into the air and lay down before he touched the floor.

The two footmen, meanwhile, recovering and enraged, had
plunged at Redmond. He met them eagerly, dealt out a whizzing left and
sent one staggering, but was himself half stunned by a mighty uppercut
that reduced the room to a shimmer and brought a deafening roar into
his ears. He reeled blindly.

Grinning, the second footman snatched a heavy
fourteenth-century mace from the wall and advanced, lifting the spiked
iron weapon with both hands.

Guy was engaged in a desperate battle with Shotten. Frantic,
Charity also purloined a weapon from Claude's prized collection, and
the footman gave a shriek as she drove the spear home. Dropping his
mace, he clutched his wounded dignity and spun to confront Charity. His
face contorted with rage and pain, he ran at her. Frightened, but still
holding her spear level, she retreated.

Redmond shook the mists from his brain, came up behind the
footman, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Pardon," he said politely.

The footman whirled into a right that came at his chin like a
sledgehammer, and he sank from the fray.

''
Look out!''
screamed Charity.

Not lacking courage, the first footman was doggedly returning
to the attack. Redmond laughed and dispensed a left jab which sent the
man to join his friend on the floor.

In the other contest Shotten's hamlike fist had sent Guy
reeling back. Shotten followed with a sizzling right jab. It was
blocked. From some unsuspected reserve of strength, Guy summoned an
uppercut that caught Shotten squarely under the chin, and the big man
went down with a crash.

Redmond had started for Claude, and Guy staggered to catch his
arm. "Hurry!" he panted. "My… carriage, it waits for me. We can—"

"In just… one minute," grated Redmond.

"No!" Guy struggled to hold him.

Redmond ripped out a string of profanities and wrenched away.
"He may be your brother, but he's a stinking bastard and not fit to
live! I've—"

"There is no time for your vengeance! We must get Charity
away. The whole staff will be after us in a second only!"

Dazed by this swift chain of events, Charity experienced a
jolting sense of excitement. It had sounded—it had
really
sounded as though Guy could help them escape! Certainly, he himself
would have to leave now, for Claude would never forgive him. She ran to
tug desperately at Redmond's other arm. "Please,
please
,
Mr. Redmond! If Guy will help us, we may still have a chance! Please,
for England, we
must
try!"

Diccon's voice echoed in Mitchell's ears: "You don't give a
groat
for England…"

The blaze of madness died from his eyes. For a moment, he
still stared down at her. Then, drawing quickly away from her touch, he
muttered, "Yes. Of course." He strode to open the rear door and peer
outside.

Guy meanwhile had hurried to drop to one knee beside his
brother's motionless form. He touched Claude's wrist and, reassured,
stood, then bent again to slip a large ruby ring from the lax hand.