The Gallows Curse (73 page)

    'You're
a very handsome man.'

    Osborn
gaped at her in amazement. She quickly bent forward and pressed her lips to his
forehead, running her fingers softly over the back of his neck. He pulled his
head away.

    'God's
Blood, what are you doing, girl? I didn't come here to whore. I came here to
learn about my brother's killer.'

    'But.
. . but I can't resist you,' she stammered unconvincingly, trying again to kiss
his face. He pushed her away, then stared at her.

    'I do
know you! Of all the brazen tricks. You're my runaway villein, the girl that
listens at doors. The moment Lady Anne told me you worked as her maid, I
realized it was you I'd seen running away. So you've come here thinking to
blackmail me, have you? You think I will pay you to keep silent about what you
heard. Do you really imagine the king is going to take the word of a runaway
villein, a baby killer, over that of a loyal, trusted lord of England? I'll
make you wish you'd hung on my gallows before I've finished . . .'

    He
tried to struggle to his feet, but she was standing too close to him. His sword
slid to the floor with a clatter. He bent forward to recover it and as he did
so, she pulled the dagger from the pocket in her cloak and stabbed it as hard
as she could into his back.

    Osborn
yelled in shock and agony, slumping to his knees on the wooden boards. He
groped behind him, trying to grasp the dagger hilt that was still sticking out
from his flesh. At the same time his other hand grabbed Elena's skirts and held
on.

    She
struggled to pull her skirt free, but his grip was too tight. Seizing a handful
of his hair, she yanked his head back as hard as she could. It was enough to
make his grip slacken momentarily. She managed to free her skirts and ran to
the door. She fumbled desperately with the latch, but her hands were slippery
with his blood.

    Osborn
finally managed to grasp the dagger hilt. With a groan of pain, he wrenched it
out and lumbered to his feet, her dagger gripped in his hand. He lunged at her,
but just as he did so, the latch gave and the door swung open. She tumbled out,
half falling down the stairs in her blind panic to get away.

    As
Elena fled across the courtyard, Osborn was shouting for help and staggering
down the steps. The serving wench was crossing the yard with two flagons in her
hand. She stopped in mid-stride, staring up in alarm at Osborn, who was still
clutching the bloody knife. Elena crashed into her, sending the girl reeling
backwards, her flagons smashing on the cobbles. Above the sound of music and
laughter pouring out from the inn, Elena could hear Osborn bellowing at her to
stop. But she didn't wait to see him reach the bottom of the stairs. She fled into
the night.

    Raffe
yanked at the bell rope and hammered furiously on the door of the brothel. The
small shutter opened and a face peered out through the stout metal grill. The
face did not belong to Talbot, but to the woman they called Luce.

    'Someone's
certainly got a fire in his breeches tonight,' she scolded. 'You worried it'll
fall limp afore you hit the target?' Then her face broke into her usual
generous smile. 'Why, if it isn't the Bul. . . Master Raffaele,' she hastily
corrected herself.

    Raffe
had never bothered to use a false name at the stew. What would be the point?
When you stand out so much from the crowd, any attempt at disguise is useless.
Luce unfastened the door and swung it wide before closing it behind him. He
followed her into the guest hall where, as usual, platters of meats and flagons
of wine and ale stood ready for the customers, for as Ma was fond of saying, 'A
man needs good red meat if he's to hold his end up.'

    Luce
turned and winked, arching her back so as to push her plump breasts forward in
the manner that had become second nature to her.

    'What's
your pleasure this evening, Master Raffe? Name the girl you fancy and I'll see
if she's free to serve you.' She ran her strawberry-red tongue slowly over her
upper lip. It was a gesture as habitual to her as a serving maid's curtsy.

    'I
need to see Talbot, it's urgent.'

    She
laughed. 'He will be flattered. He doesn't get many customers asking for his
services.'

    Then,
seeing the strained expression on Raffe's face, she seemed to realize this was
no joking matter. She dropped her seductive tone and became in the instant
serious.

    'Talbot's
not here, Master Raffe. That's why Ma set me to mind the door, but she said
he'd not be long'

    She'd
scarcely got the words out before there was a series of raps on the wooden
door.

    'That'll
be Talbot now,' she said. 'I know his knock, never uses the bell, he doesn't.'

    She
ran to answer the summons as Raffe paced impatiently up and down the long
chamber. Talbot started as he saw him. Luce looked from one man to the other, a
puzzled frown wrinkling her forehead.

    'Go
on back to your quarters now, Luce, there's a good girl,' Talbot ordered, still
not taking his eyes off Raffe.

    'Might
have known it,' she said lightly. 'Do what a man asks and then . . .' Her voice
faltered in the tension of the hall.

    Talbot
picked up half a pie and a flagon of wine at random and thrust them at Luce.
'Here, take them.'

    Luce
beamed at the unexpected treat.

    'But
no one's to know Master Raffe is here, you understand, my girl?'

    'Course
I do. Like Ma always says, act like a rose — smell sweet, open your petals and
stay dumb. Oh, and scratch them bloody if they try to pluck you without paying'

    'Get!'
Talbot jerked his head towards the door and Luce didn't wait to be told twice.

    As
soon as the door had closed behind her, Raffe turned to Talbot. 'John's spy. .
. it's too late. The couple he was staying with have been arrested, taken to
the castle. The bastard led the soldiers straight to them, which means word
will already be on the way to John.'

    Talbot
turned sharply, accidentally catching a platter with his arm and sending it
clattering to the floor. 'God's thundering fart, what possessed you to come
here? If they've set a man to tail you . . .'

    'They
haven't!' Raffe said with a certainty he didn't feel. 'I looped back several
times and kept watch to see if any were trailing me. Besides, Martin doesn't
know I'm back in Norwich. If he's discovered who I am by now, he'll be
expecting to find me at the manor. They'll have sent men there to arrest me and
I plan to be well away from here by the time they find they've been dispatched
on a fool's errand.

    'I'm
leaving tonight and I'm taking Elena with me. If Osborn learns Hugh came here
the evening he was killed, he'll personally search this place from top to
bottom, and even with her dyed hair, he'll recognize Elena at once. Hugh
wouldn't condescend to notice anyone beneath his rank, but Osborn misses
nothing. I have to get her away before he comes. So where is she? In Ma's
chamber?'

    Talbot
grimaced. 'The girl's not here.'

    'Don't
lie to me, Talbot. I know Ma wants her money's worth, but even she must see
that Elena's no good to her now. She can't risk keeping her here. Osborn will
arrest Ma and you too, if he learns that you've been hiding a fugitive.'

    'I
doubt that he'll be in a position to, my darling.'

    Raffe
spun on his heel to find Ma standing in the doorway behind him.

    She
advanced a few steps into the room. 'Osborn won't arrest us, because Elena is
seeing to that as we speak.'

    Raffe
stared from Ma to Talbot and back again. 'I ... I don't understand. What do you
mean —
seeing to that?'

    'She's
gone to kill him,' Ma said in the same calm tone in which she might have
announced that Elena had gone to fetch a pail of water.

    Raffe
felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He was certain he must have
misheard her.

    'The
cunning woman from your village came here to see Elena,' Ma said.

    'Gytha?'

    'That's
the one. Apparently, some months ago back in the village, Gytha gave Elena a
mandrake and now she's come looking for payment. Evidently there's bad blood
between Osborn's family and hers. Osborn's father falsely accused Gytha's
grandmother of poisoning his wife, then had her executed. Not unreasonably, she
cursed him and his descendants. Now Gytha wants Elena to kill Osborn to avenge
her grandmother.' Ma smiled. "You needn't look so horrified, my darling,
Elena will do it all right. After all, she's killed two men before. She's the
strength and resolve of a dozen men when her blood is up.'

    'But
she hasn't killed anyone!' Raffe put his head in his hands and groaned. 'I've
proof that she didn't murder Raoul or Hugh. She's no more capable of killing a
man than a sparrow is of killing a hawk. You've sent a girl... a child . . .
after a battle-hardened knight. At the very least, he'll recognize her. What
the hell have you done, you malicious old hag?'

    He
lunged at Ma, but Talbot stepped between them. His great fist slammed into
Raffe's jaw. Raffe staggered backwards, crashing into one of the benches, and
fell, sprawling across it.

    His
head reeling from the blow, he was only dimly aware of the clanging of the bell.
Ma hurried across the room.

    'Get
him upstairs to my chamber, Talbot, and keep him quiet. Knock him out cold if
you have to.'

    As
she pulled some steps into place so that she could peer out of the grid in the
door, Talbot heaved Raffe to his feet. And Raffe, feeling the floor tilting
alarmingly beneath his feet, allowed himself to be half dragged towards the
staircase to Ma's room.

    Elena
let go of the bell rope and pounded on the door. It seemed as if she had been
standing there for a lifetime before the shutter finally opened and Ma's face
peered out.

    'Ma,
please, please let me in,' she begged.

    'I'm
coming.' The firmness in Ma's voice sounded strangely comforting.

    Elena
pressed herself against the door in an agony of waiting as she heard Ma
loosening the bar and clambering down off the steps. When the door finally
swung open she almost fell over the tiny woman in her haste to get inside. Her
teeth were chattering uncontrollably. Her legs suddenly refused to move and she
knew that if she attempted even a single step she would fall over. She stood
swaying in the room, her arms wrapped tightly round herself.

    Ma
pulled at her hand. Her fingers felt scalding hot against Elena's icy skin.

    Elena's
breath came in shallow, jerky little gulps. 'Why couldn't I kill him, Ma? Why
couldn't I? I killed Raoul and Hugh. But he wouldn't die. I thought... if I
just... pushed the dagger in, it would be over. There was blood, but. . . but
he pulled the dagger out and came after me . . . Why couldn't I kill him, Ma?
Why was it so easy with the others? They died like they were supposed to but he
wouldn't ... he just kept coming. . .'

    'So
he's wounded?' Ma gnawed at her lip. 'Did he recognize you?'

    Elena
jerked her head in the semblance of a nod.

    Ma
took a deep breath. 'Raffe's right, we have to get you both away from here,
tonight.'

    'Master
Raffaele. Is he ...?'

    'He's
here, my darling, come to take you away. Now, you go and sit with him awhile,
get your breath back, you'll be needing it. Talbot and I've got work to do.'

    Without
even being aware of how she got there, Elena found herself sitting in Ma's
chamber clutching a beaker of wine in her trembling fingers. Raffaele was
sitting on a stool at her feet. She had allowed him to wash Osborn's blood
gently from her hands in a bowl of water. She'd stared in uncomprehending
wonder as the water turned pink, then scarlet. The candle flames danced, and
she thought she was back in a cottage in Gastmere watching Gytha's blood
falling drop by drop, swirling around and around. She shivered. She couldn't
seem to get warm.

    Raffaele
reached out and touched the bruise where Hugh had struck her, as tenderly as
any father might. His eyes were so gentle and kind, searching for hers and
gazing into them as if he could see everything inside her and did not judge
her.