Sharon Lanergan (20 page)

Constance glanced down at the small crust of bread Loutrant had just handed her. Her stomach growled to remind her she had not eaten anything for some time. She raised the hunk of bread to her mouth and took a bite, chewing it slowly to savor it.

Loutrant took a large sip of the ale he’d poured.

“I’d better check outside,” he muttered after stuffing a slice of rare beef into his mouth. He stood up and brushed at the crumbs on his battered wool breeches. “I’ll be right out there, my lady,” he said, pointing to the window. “So do not think to try anything.”

Constance nodded and took another bite of her bread.

Loutrant opened the door and it creaked on its hinges. He frowned in irritation and closed it with a rather loud snap.

Constance stared at the closed door, waiting just a moment. Ever the trickster, Loutrant might re-open it immediately, expecting her to try something and catching her in the act. If she were not cautious, her one chance could be taken from her.

She let out the breath she held when she heard the crunching leaves in the distance. Reaching under the skirts of her surcoat and kirtle, she removed the black sack Marcus had given her. Again, she watched the door, her ears alert for any sound indicating Loutrant returned.

If she leaned far across the table she could reach his mug of ale. Opening the tiny sack, Constance peered inside, wondering what sort of herbs Marcus had given her. She wished it had been herbs that would have a more permanent effect on the man. Then she immediately prayed to God for forgiveness for her despicable thoughts. It was not right to wish the death of anyone.

Constance liberally sprinkled the powdered herbs into her captor’s ale, her gaze on the door at all times. She didn’t have much longer, she could feel it. Even though her hearing did not detect his nearness, Constance knew he would be back soon.

Stealing a glance at his ale, she clearly saw the herbs floating in it. Loutrant would notice them, too. Constance bit her lip, cursing silently.

Then by the door she spied a small twig, likely brought in on their shoes when they arrived. Quickly scrambling to retrieve it, Constance used it to stir the liquid, carefully watching to make sure the herbs disappeared into the contents.

Hearing a snap of a branch out the window to her left, Constance sat back in her chair and tossed aside the twig. The door opened moments later with another loud creak and Loutrant stepped back inside the cottage.

“What do you intend to do now?” Constance asked, nibbling on the remaining bit of her bread.

He returned to his seat across from her at the table. “Wait.”

“Wait?”

Loutrant nodded, scowling. “Eventually, Fitzroy will reach the cottage where first I brought you. I left a message behind for him to discover.”

Constance swallowed hard. “What does this message say?”

“It will be enough for him to realize this is his next destination.” Loutrant reached for his mug of ale. “I intend to make it his final one.”

Constance licked her bottom lip and blew out a long breath. She wanted to distract him from noticing anything unusual about his ale. Grasping at anything to keep him talking until the herbs took affect, she said, “You mean to kill all the Fitzroys, don’t you?”

Loutrant smirked and took a sip of his ale. “Indeed that is my intention. But do not fear, Lady Constance, you will live until nearly the very end. Your lover dies last, of course, forced to watch each and every one of those he cares about die in front of him.” He took another, larger sip. “Just as he watched me end the life of his beloved Katherine.”

“Even should you succeed in your diabolical plan, there will still be Fitzroys left alive,” Constance said. “Nicholas and Telford Fitzroy, for example.”

“I will deal with them also,” Loutrant vowed. “I will not stop until all are gone.”

“What if you die in the attempt?”

Loutrant smirked and downed the remainder of his ale. “You’d like to think it will happen, would you not?” He laughed, deep and without much mirth. “Even if I am killed, I will still have taken as many Fitzroys with me as possible. Including myself.”

Constance’s hand froze in the act of lifting up her own mug of ale. Something about the way he’d said that last bit gave her pause. She lowered her drink.

“What do you mean? Including yourself?”

Loutrant shook his head slowly, and then frowned. He set down his mug. “What?”

“You included yourself among the Fitzroys.”

Loutrant lifted his gaze. His blue eyes had lost their clarity and sharpness. They were slightly glazed. Had the sleeping herbs taken affect already?

“My father, Hugh, he said…” Loutrant stopped and swallowed. He glanced down at the mug, his frown growing fiercer.

“You mean your father William?” Constance ignored the racing of her own heart.

“Nay, he was not my father, I told you,” Loutrant snapped, though the words were slowed and slurred.

“Aye, but you said your father, Hugh,” Constance said. “Who did you mean?”

“Hugh Fitzroy.”

Her heart was now beating so quickly, Constance was shocked Loutrant had not commented on the sound, for her chest was ready to explode.

“Hugh Fitzroy?” she repeated. “He was not your father.”

“He was.” Loutrant said, holding his head now in both hands. “My father…I mean William Loutrant told me everything on his deathbed.”

“Finius, what did he tell you?”

“Hugh and my mother were lovers before she married William. But my grandfather hated Hugh Fitzroy and would not allow her to marry him. It was easier to pretend William fathered her son.”

Loutrant’s eyelids drifted downward and Constance knew she was about to lose him. She was torn between wanting to make her escape and wanting to learn more about the reasons behind Loutrant’s resentment and madness.

“Finius?”

“My mother did not tell Hugh the truth. But I did when I found out,” he mumbled. “And then he cared not. Bastard. Had to die…”

Constance’s blood ran cold. “What did you say?”

But Loutrant was finally asleep. The only sounds were the soft snores coming from her captor and the rush of the ocean outside.

Constance leaped from her chair. She hurried to him, making sure he really was out. He mumbled incoherently when she prodded his eyelids.

It was now or never. She bolted for the cottage door and fled outside. Pausing, she considered her options. She desperately wanted to head toward home, but she wasn’t sure how long the sleeping herbs would last. If she lost her way trying to find home, it was just possible she would die without ever being found. And hadn’t Marcus told her about the caves? Brian would find her in one of the caves. Wouldn’t he?

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Think you, Brian, we ought to make a stop at Nicholas’ castle?” Stephen asked his brother from his chestnut colored stallion.

Brian frowned fiercely at his youngest brother. They’d just mounted their steeds and were about to head to the sea.

“What for, pray tell?”

“To seek aid from Nicholas and Telford.” Stephen’s horse pawed impatiently at the ground, and he patted its head. “Considering who we are dealing with, I thought it might be something to give serious thought.”

Brian shook his head. “Mayhap you are right, but I do not want to take any more time away from finding Constance. Every moment with Loutrant…” He did not finish his sentence. He urged his mount forward.

“Brian.” Stephen followed after his brother.

“Stephen, if you want to take some men and head for Nicholas’ castle, then do so,” Brian told him. “You can meet me by the sea.”

Stephen was shaking his light brown head before Brian had even finished speaking. “Nay, Brian. We do not split up the family. Lucien, Trevor, and I are all going with you to face Loutrant. I would rather we had the whole family to face him, but so be it.”

Brian nodded, relieved. He would need all the resources available in what he knew would be his final battle with Loutrant. Sending men off with Stephen would have weakened his troops.

The night was cool and enshrouded with low clouds and thick fog. It would become more so as they drew closer to the sea. According to Marcus, he’d told Constance to hide in the caves near the cottage. Brian was not thrilled with the idea of Constance alone in dark, dank caves, but he acknowledged it was better than the alternative.

Brian pulled his mail coif down over his head. Earlier, his son had assisted him with his hauberk. They must be ready for anything. Including an attack on the road. He was well aware he may be riding into a trap, for he had no reason to trust Marcus.

****

Constance felt along the jagged rocks of the cliffs. Her breath came in short, haggard bursts, her chest aching from the effort it took to take in air. Her finger caught on a sharp outcropping.

She cried aloud, bringing the stinging appendage to her lips. The metallic taste of blood touched her tongue.

Would she yet die out here by the sea? How long had she been searching for one of these caves Marcus told her about? Lord, she was weary. And every bone in her body ached.

“Marcus, where should I go?” Her whisper was lost in the mist spraying from the sea below.

Twice her slippered foot slid on a moist rock, and she’d nearly toppled down into the rushing water.

Constance leaned heavily on the rocks, her position perilous. Sending her to search for caves might have even been part of Loutrant’s plot. She certainly did not know enough about Marcus to guess whether he would be so cruel as to lie. Was he even now watching her climb the rocks waiting impatiently for the moment when she would lose her balance and tumble to her death?

Soon, the sun would begin to rise and lighten the sky. Or at least she prayed it would be soon. This night seemed endless.

“Brian, guide me.”

Constance laughed. As though she expected his voice to somehow tell her what she ought to do. Where she ought to seek these phantoms cave dwellings.

If Brian were there with her, he would tell her she had to look to herself for rescuing. Hadn’t he told her as much while they were prisoners of Loutrant?

Brian hadn’t thought her simply a victim to be rescued. Never that. And for some reason, the realization Brian believed enough in her that she would help herself gave her the courage to move at last from the jagged rocks she rested on.

Brushing aside the hair whipped into her face by the cold breeze, Constance crept around the outcropping, once more feeling her way.

“I can do this.” Climbing down to the next level of stones, she realized the rocks here were even damper than those above. The waves had at some point reached this high.

Her foot slipped, sending pebbles spraying below, and her stomach swaying. Constance clutched the side, and prayed. Glancing to the right, she finally saw what she felt certain was an opening in the side of the cliff. Was it a cave at last?

“Praise be,” Constance whispered, inching her way. When she reached it there would be a chance she could sleep, if only for a brief time. Too much time could not be spared. Not when Loutrant might come seeking her at any time.

Her fingers found the indentation at last. The opening was narrow but she could easily crawl through it. The cave was small. It wouldn’t fit more than two adults, Constance supposed.

She attempted to stand up in the damp dark space, but the top of the cave prevented her from straightening all the way. Tamping down the fingers of fear going up her spine, Constance sat down on the rock floor. She could not wait for dawn. Spending a lengthy time in a dreadful, dank cave bathed in darkness was something she did not relish.

Constance folded her knees close to her chest, and leaned her head down.

****

“Where are you, my lady?”

The distant sound of Loutrant’s oily voice penetrated the sleep-induced fog Constance had drifted into. She opened her heavily lidded eyes, struggling for clarity.

“I know you are here somewhere, Constance.”

Constance backed up in the tight cave, biting her lip to keep from crying out when a sharp edge pierced her skin through the material of her gown.

Rays of sun streaked into the tiny cave opening. The dawn had come sometime ago, it would seem. Constance cursed herself for sleeping too long.

“I found a piece of your gown,” Loutrant called from somewhere on the cliffs. “You may as well come hither, my lady.”

Constance winced, for he’d used his minstrel’s voice, the soft lilting tone and way of speaking meant to ensnare his victims.

“Eventually you’ll get tired of hiding from me and will come out. I know you don’t want to die in the caves.”

He wouldn’t find this cave, would he? She had barely discovered it herself.

“Please, please, please, go away,” she whispered.

“Take your chances with me, Constance,” Loutrant continued in the same sensual tone. “Surely a better fate than wasting away from starvation and letting the insects inhabiting the caves eat what remains.”

Bile and fear threatened to choke her, but Constance squelched the urge to cry out her surrender.

“That wasn’t very clever of you, by the way,” her tormentor said. “What herbs did you use? How did you get them?” He laughed merrily, as though he were watching a group of performers entertaining him. “Ah, I’d wager they came from my traitorous
brother
.”

Constance heard him slip on a rock and curse.

“He will pay dearly for his betrayal. Loyalty doesn’t seem to mean what it used to.”

She reached for the dagger tied discreetly under her gown. Though she was loathe to use it, Constance refused to be taken hostage again willingly.

“You’ve made me angry, Constance,” Loutrant said, returning once more to his normal, baleful tone. “Chasing after you like this was not in my plans. You ought to know by now I do not like my plans thwarted.”

The sound of his voice was getting closer.

“Loutrant.”

Constance stiffened, her heart thundering in her chest. The name had been called by someone in the distance.
Brian
. She was certain of it.

“Loutrant, I am here.”

Torn between wanting to keep Brian away from Loutrant so he would be safe and being glad he had come, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

“Fitzroy,” Loutrant growled out from very nearby. He was just outside her hiding place. “I knew you would come for your whore.”

“Leave Constance and everyone else out of this, Loutrant,” Brian said. “Your quarrel is with me.”

Rocks fell from the cliff outside her cave. Receding footsteps followed. Constance wondered if Loutrant had moved away from her hiding place. Dare she peer outside?

“I see you brought the traitor with you, Fitzroy,” Loutrant called from farther away. “Marcus, I am so very disappointed in you.”

“I know the truth now, Fin,” Marcus replied coolly.

Constance inched toward the opening, holding her breath, and clutching the dagger tightly in her right hand.

“The truth?” Loutrant laughed. “You have no idea, my dear brother.”

“I’m not your brother.”

Constance could see nothing from the cave opening save rocks and the sea below. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth and took another step forward, hunching over to avoid the low hang of the cave.

“Nay,” Loutrant agreed. “And for the fact my father was not William Loutrant I am eternally grateful. The man was a monster.” He laughed again. “But you know, Marcus. You are just like him, aren’t you?”

Constance winced when Marcus’ sharp gasp reached her ears. She stepped out of the cave and crouched down.

Several yards away stood Loutrant, his back to her. Beyond him stood Marcus and Brian on the rocks above leading to the gathering of trees and the cottage behind. Brian wore armor and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Marcus had no armor, but strapped to his back was an arbalest. In his hands, he held a small sword.

“I am not like him,” Marcus vowed. “I was not raised by him, Finius, you were.”

Loutrant took another step toward Brian and Marcus. “But the blood pumping through your veins is the vile Loutrant blood, Marcus.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You cannot escape that. Just as I cannot escape the Fitzroy blood running through mine.”

Constance could see Brian’s fierce frown from where she crouched.

“Spare us your tales, Loutrant,” Brian snarled. “Where is Constance?”

“It is no tale, Fitzroy.” Loutrant’s voice was chilling. “Hugh Fitzroy was my sire.”