Rivals for the Crown (37 page)

The hearings had begun at last, but there was little news there— only that every one of the 104 auditors would speak. It would be a long process, their patrons told them. Rachel smiled and tried not to think.

And then Henry de Boyer arrived.

It was evening, the gloomy day shortened by the heavy, overhanging clouds. Henry came alone, and sat alone, his manner quiet. Rachel did not serve him but let one of the others bring him food and wine. He watched her but said nothing to her, not even as he left. The next evening he came again and ate. And watched her.

And again on the third night. But this time he found Rachel in the hallway outside the kitchen and blocked her passage.

"Is she still here?"

"Who do you mean, sir?"

"Do not play the innocent with me, Rachel de Anjou. Isabel."

Rachel started at his use of her real name. She looked into his eyes, trying to see into his heart. She could see his intensity, his anger, but not his motive. "I don't know who you mean, sir," she said and saw the flicker of his eyes.

"I know, and you know, that she was here. All right." He took a deep breath. "Tell her this. She was right about Alis. I was played for a fool, and know it well. She told me there was a child, and I married her. The child was a phantom, but the marriage is real. I cannot change that. But I know her now for what she is, and am paying the price for my own part in the deception. That is why I did not come back. None of that matters now. Isabel continues to be in danger, as do you all. If she is here, get her out of Berwick as soon as you can. If she has gone, tell her not to return. I will come back and tell you when I learn more."

Rachel shook her head, but Henry stopped her with an impatient gesture.

"Do not even say it, that you have no idea of whom I speak. Listen! Just tell her that Langton is here. Ah, I see that gets your attention. It is true. Walter Langton has come to Berwick with the king. And he is looking for her. He has discovered that she came here with the Highlanders. Langton is a powerful enemy. He says she is sought for plotting against the king, Rachel. Which is treason. And those who shelter her.. .Tell her to stay hidden. Tell your father to keep his head down. Do nothing to attract attention to the inn. Let the drama stay at the castle, at the hearings."

"How does that go, sir?"

"Slow. Tedious. I do not know how anyone stays awake through it."

"When will it end?"

"God's blood, mistress, it looks to never end. I don't know. I will return."

He came again two days later, stopping her as she passed him in the tavern. She smiled, pretending to take his order.

"The man in the green cloak," he whispered. "By the window. He is Langton's spy. The soldiers are as well. They intend to leave without paying."

"Then I will serve them very slowly," she said.

"Tell Isabel that the talk at the castle is not about her and that I am doing my best to distract Langton." He gave a harsh laugh. "I have convinced my devoted wife that I will have no advancement

without her assistance. And that Langton is the key to our future. I am pleased to say that she has applied herself diligently, which has solved two problems for us. It has taken Alis's attention from me, and Langton's attention from Isabel—and you. Keep your wits about you. Tell Isabel I am doing my best to protect her."

Rachel said nothing.

"I know you do not trust me," Henry said. "Nor do you need to. Just do it."

He left a short time later.

When no one would miss her, or notice her creeping up the stairs to the attic, Rachel went to Isabel and told her all that had happened. Isabel wanted to leave immediately, but Rachel told her to stay where she was, that Papa said it was best. And then she locked Isabel in, to make the small door look like nothing more than a closet.

They came that evening.

The soldiers arrived first, a squad of them lining the road before the building. More, Gilbert said, were in the garden, and on the terrace. No one was to enter or leave the inn. And now they waited —Rachel, her mother, Gilbert, and the rest of the staff—lined against the wall like children, while her father answered questions.

Langton. It could only be Walter Langton, Rachel thought as he entered and sat at a table the soldiers pulled into the middle of the room, his hands folded before him. He was dressed richly, the material of his clothing finely woven, but the color muted. He wore gold, and much of it, but few jewels. But one could tell from his every movement, his every gesture, that this was a powerful man.

"Bring him," Langton said, and Jacob was motioned forward.

Langton spoke so quietly that Rachel could not hear his words, but she saw their effect on her father, who stood like a criminal, listening.

Isabel was right. Langton had no neck. Rachel fought a wave of nervous laughter. And he walked strangely, his chest and stomach reaching his destination before the rest of him. Like a goose or a duck, with that same rolling motion of his body. She put a hand over her mouth lest she laugh aloud. There was no
humour
in this, for, while no one had said so, she was sure it was Isabel for whom they searched.

Her father was told to stand with her mother. Jacob nodded to Rachel as he passed, his eyes haunted, and her heart sank.

"Now the girl," Langton said.

He motioned Rachel to stand before him, his eyes hooded, but not missing a detail as he looked her from head to foot and back. She stood still under his scrutiny, not speaking, her urge to laugh gone now. Isabel was right about him: there was something evil and furtive about the man, a darkness that oozed from him, that no amount of fine cloth could disguise.

"Isabel de Burke."

"No."

His annoyance was immediate. "No, what?"

"I am not Isabel de Burke, sir. I am Rachel Angenhoff."

"No. You are Rachel de Anjou, formerly of London. Are you not?"

"Yes."

"And now you live in Berwick."

"Yes."

"And you have a friend, named Isabel de Burke."

"I did. When we lived in London, we were friends."

"So much so that when your family decided to leave..."

Decided to leave. Rachel did not comment.

"When your family decided to leave London, Isabel ran down to Aldgate and wished you well."

"Yes, sir."

"And then she came here."

Rachel shook her head. "I have not seen her since London, sir."

He leaned forward, his chin upthrust. "She came to Berwick on a boat last December, in the company of two Scotsmen. One is named Rory MacGannon, now outlawed for murder. The other is Kieran MacDonald, whom we now seek. Where is she?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Sit here, next to me."

"I prefer to stand, sir."

"Good. I can see more of you when you stand. Where is Isabel de Burke?"

His smile was slow, and pleased, and she realized, as she watched him watch her, that he loved to terrify. And that he was very good at it.

"Search the inn," Langton said, "all of it, from the cellars to the attic. Clear this room of everyone but the Angenhoffs. Keep their staff in the kitchens."

The soldiers did as he said, some ushering their patrons into the street, others pushing the rest of their staff into the kitchen, and

still more pounding up the stairs. Gilbert protested and was struck to the ground. He lay there, his face bleeding and a soldier standing over him. Mama cried out and bent to help Gilbert, but she was shoved against the wall.

Rachel began to pray. When all the patrons were gone and only the soldiers, her parents, and Langton remained, he smiled and rose to his feet.

"Hold her!" he said, and two men came to grab Rachel's arms. He circled her, then looked at her father. "Where is Isabel de Burke?"

Papa shook his head. "I do not know."

"Strike him!"

The soldier did, clouting Papa on the head with the hilt of a knife, drawing blood. It ran down Papa's face.

"Where is Isabel de Burke?" Langton demanded.

No one spoke. Langton put one hand on Rachel's breast. With the other he tore her bodice open, revealing her body. He reversed his hands and did the same to the other side. He kept his hand on her breast and looked at Rachel's mother.

"Shall I take her here, now? While you watch?"

"No, please no!" Mama cried.

Rachel closed her eyes.

"Where is Isabel de Burke?"

"Gone!" Mama wailed. "She left us when we heard the king was coming! You must believe us!"

Langton looked at her for a moment, then scratched his chin. "But, you see, I don't. Beat him!"

The soldiers fell on her father, beating him to the floor. He did not cry out, but Mama did, her eyes wild. She flailed at the soldiers, who shoved her against the wall and struck her across the face.

"Enough!" Langton said. "Keep him alive." He turned to Rachel. "I can feel you shivering. Are you cold?"

He did not wait for her answer but leaned to take one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked, hard. Then bit her, drawing blood. She cried out in pain. He straightened and wiped the blood from his mouth, taking his other hand from her.

"You taste like a Jew." He kept her gaze but spoke to his soldiers. "Watch them. I need a bath. And a decent meal. I will come back. And we will continue."

Isabel closed her eyes and prayed. She'd heard the boy cry "Soldiers!" and had been terrified since. She paced the room, then stopped, realizing her footsteps might be heard.

The room was tiny, a corner of a corner under the attic, not more than five feet wide, the only ventilation the small opening at the roof beam. There was a narrow bed, a chamber pot, and a chair, nothing else.

She could hear the soldiers' booted feet on the stairs, their muted voices, male, rough, determined. She could hear more outside through the thin, unplastered wooden walls. They were in the garden, on the terrace of the inn next door. And here, on the floor below her. She sat on the corner of the bed, determined to be calm if they found her. When they found her. She had no idea who'd sent them.

Henry? Would he betray her this way? Was Henry capable of such duplicity? No, she would not believe it. But...

What if it was not her that they sought but Jacob and Rachel's family? What if there had been another expulsion order? What if she cowered here, like a small trapped animal, while they faced horrors below? What if, when at last she left this room, the Angenhoffs were gone, removed to face God knew what fate? What a coward she would have been.

The boots were closer now, slower, as the men climbed the narrow stairs to the attic. Two men, then a third, circling, stopping near the small window in the larger attic space. Knocking on the

wall, talking in heavy Northumbrian accents to each other. These men, from the borderlands, would be no friends of the Scots, nor those who found refuge in their cities.

She opened her eyes, staring at the wall that held the small door to this room. This had once been a closet in the attic, stretching across one end of the garret. Jacob and Gilbert had divided it into three spaces, this the smallest and only accessed through the other two.

Now the soldiers were in the closet, knocking on walls. If they moved the chest that hid the door to this room, they would find her. She held her breath.

The boots stopped moving, as though they studied something, or were gesturing to each other. And low whispers, and a laugh, low and guttural, that chilled her. And another, full of the sound of men telling each other bawdy stories.

And then they were gone.

Her tears came then, pouring silently from her eyes while she lay on the bed, trying to stay calm. She watched the shadows change on the wall, the sun setting so much earlier in these days of autumn, and she remembered that this was Samhain, the ancient marking of the night when evil spirits roamed the earth at will.

It was hours before anyone came.

She heard the footsteps on the stairs, then the slow moving of the chest, and the unlocking of the door. She stood. It was Gilbert who opened the door. He put a candle on the floor and shoved it toward her with a tray of bread and cheese, but he did not come into the room.

"They're still here," he whispered. "The soldiers. But Langton is gone."

"Langton was here! Oh, dear God, what have I done?"

"Langton went back to the castle. All the guests were made to leave."

"What did he do, Gilbert? What did they do?"

There was silence, then Gilbert moved forward and turned his face so she could see. His cheek was ripped open, a jagged tear that was already turning purple and a deep red. "They beat Jacob. He has marks all over his body."

Isabel moaned. "And Rachel? And her mother?"

"Her mother was struck, but not hurt badly. But Rachel..." He told her then what Langton had done to Rachel. "Do not come out. Rachel will come when she can. She is badly shaken, and they are watching her."