The Gilded Crown (49 page)

‘Not at all, Dougal,' Agnes reassured him as the men joined them at the table. ‘Lady Wexford and I were discussing our good fortune. Your presence has made our visit extremely pleasurable.'

‘The feeling is reciprocated. Lord Wexford's assistance was a Godsend.' The older man smiled as he slowly lowered himself into a high-backed chair.

‘I think we have all benefited from this situation,' said Simon.

‘If only all my guests were as courteous.' Dougal frowned. ‘There have many who took advantage and others whom I wished I could have drowned in the river!'

‘I have had to deal with some difficult situations at Cambridge Castle over the years, including displaced spouses and unwelcome prisoners of the crown!' Simon drew back the chair next to Catherine and sat down.

‘This castle has been fought over by one person or another for as long as my family can remember. King David remains fond of it as he and Queen Joan sheltered here after his defeat at the battle of Halidon Hill. Even the Wallace stayed here, but only for short while, before he was dragged off to London,' Dougal explained.

‘So that's how his sword came to reside here?' Roderick settled himself beside the older man, stretching out his long legs towards the fire.

‘Aye. Mentieth wanted to display it, like a trophy,' Dougal spat. ‘Plenty more devils tried to steal it over the years, but here it remains, locked away.'

‘English devils I suppose?' Simon asked.

‘Aye, lad, Salisbury amongst them. Satan, himself, would hide from that bastard.' Dougal grimaced. ‘I was told whilst he was here he committed acts so vile, so brutal, that many have been unable to wash away the memory of them.'

‘You were not here?' Agnes leaned forward; all the colour had drained from her face.

‘I received news the first Earl of Salisbury was riding, at speed, to Dumbarton. He was escorted by a well-armed group of soldiers who were able to locate and utilise a hidden passage that leads directly into the inner bailey of the castle, a tunnel known only to a very small number of people.' Dougal shifted stiffly in his seat. ‘When the treacherous Clare Mentieth was unable to further assist Salisbury, he had her publicly raped and tortured. By the time I arrived, he and his party were well and truly gone.'

Catherine shivered as a feeling of dread washed over her. ‘Then who told you—'

‘There are always maids in residence and a steward,' Dougal interrupted. ‘Lord Dunbar arrived a few weeks later and helped me replace some damaged rugs and a number of pieces of furniture.'

‘I knew my husband had visited you, but he did not mention any further details,' Agnes whispered, her voice shaking with emotion.

‘I am not surprised. He believed you may have known the lady in question, so I cannot imagine he wished to share her tragic end.'

Agnes grasped the old man's arm. ‘Salisbury killed her?'

‘No. After he and his men were finished with her, Salisbury cut out her tongue. I was told she was placed in a convent in Cambridgeshire,' Dougal harrumphed. ‘Given her condition she was not fit for much else.'

‘
God in heaven.
' Simon shot to his feet. ‘That's it!'

Catherine slid across the seat and placed her arm around Agnes. ‘What do you mean, Simon?'

‘The mute nun, Sister Cletus! She must have been Clare Mentieth!'

‘Oh course,' Roderick declared. ‘You said yourself, Catherine, that she was Scottish. That's why she knew so much about the sword.'

‘We have to assume Salisbury placed her at Denny. The poor woman would have been terrified and therefore easily persuaded to spy for him,' Simon deduced. ‘It was most fortunate then that he died only six years later.'

‘Not just for Clare.' Catherine swallowed hard. ‘I have never felt more grateful for the protection I was offered at Denny Abbey.'

‘Until his son came looking for you,' Simon added as he placed his hand of Catherine's shoulder. ‘The apple does not fall far from the tree.'

‘My poor, sweet Clare,' Agnes sobbed. ‘She did not deserve such treatment.'

‘She was a traitor and had she been caught, would have died a traitor's death,' Lord Cameron lamented. ‘Neither her nature nor her age would have been considered.'

‘She was no traitor, Dougal. She was simply trying to save the life of my brother.' Agnes squared her shoulders in defence of her friend. ‘She was a brave woman who sacrificed herself for her betrothed.'

‘If it is any consolation, she was well-respected at Denny and lived a peaceful and productive life,' Catherine offered.

‘I must bear part of the blame. I should have stopped her.' Agnes brushed her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘I was not strong enough.'

‘My dear Lady Dunbar, what good would a confession do now?' Dougal began. ‘You cannot change the past. My advice, for what it is worth, go home safe in the knowledge that Salisbury was never able to acquire the one item for which he so longed.'

Simon caught Roderick's glance. The first Earl of Salisbury had been close on so many occasions but, in the end, had been thwarted by his own untimely death. One accident on a jousting field changed the fate of so many lives. Simon dreaded to think what might have occurred to Catherine had that not been the case.

The return journey to Govan was solemn. Catherine's concern was for Agnes, who had withdrawn to the rear of the carriage spurning any attempt to be consoled.

‘Let her be,' Simon advised. ‘Sometimes it does not matter what you say, you cannot ease another's pain.'

‘I could sit with her, pray for her.' Catherine threaded the beads of her rosary through her fingers. ‘It might provide some comfort.'

‘Perhaps it would make
you
feel better.' Simon grasped the reins with one hand and drew Catherine closer. ‘Time is the greatest healer. It allows us to see things more clearly and therefore, find justification for our actions.'

‘Though there are some acts that are not justifiable, no matter which way you look upon them.'

‘I agree, Catherine, but sometime it is the only way a heart can survive.'

Catherine peered into the carriage. Lady Dunbar had wrapped herself in one of the plaids and was lying amongst the pillows. A broken spirit housed within a frail body, racked with guilt and regret. Catherine prayed she never felt the depth of sorrow consuming Agnes.

‘There's the ferry,' Simon announced as they rounded the bend. ‘You will be able to see the inn once we cross the river.'

The breeze was light and the tidal flow kind, allowing them to cross the Clyde with relative ease. Catherine walked the steep incline from the bank to the road, whilst Simon paid the ferry-master. Shielding her eyes, she sought the inn using the steeple of the church to find her bearings. Her gaze settled on a large group of men and horses, milling about the small wooden building. As her vision focused, she gasped with fright.

‘Soldiers!' Catherine dashed back towards Roderick and willed herself to breathe. ‘Soldiers … soldiers … at the inn.'

Roderick grasped the pommel of his saddle and was riding away before his boots had met the stirrups.

Simon extended his arm and lifted Catherine into the moving cart. ‘How many do you think?'

‘I don't know,' she choked. ‘Twenty. Maybe more.'

Simon slapped the reins across the backs of the horses, urging them on. As they mounted the river bank they could see Roderick quickly closing the distance between the Clyde and the small village of Govan.

‘They're leaving.' Simon slowed the cart. ‘They don't look like soldiers.'

‘Then who could they be?' Catherine could not slow the rapid beating of her heart.

‘We will soon find out.'

Catherine could see Roderick standing at the door of the inn. He was waiting for them. Everything about his stance told her something was wrong. The last two furlongs felt like an eternity as she fought back the ever-growing fear that was squeezing the air from her chest.

Simon jumped from the carriage. ‘Tell me, brother.'

‘Please, Roderick.' she gasped.

‘The innkeeper's been murdered.'

Simon scowled. ‘And?'

‘Tiphanie, Girda and Gabby are missing!'

The first thing Cécile saw when she rushed into her chamber was Griffith bending over the bed, wiping Odette's face, a crimson-stained rag in his hand. From the waist down, the girl's gown was sodden. But instead of the groans Cécile had expected to hear, a loud, vocal weeping filled the room. Griffith turned to his master with a look of desperation. ‘I cannot stop her crying long enough to find out where she hurts.'

Gillet hurried to his side. ‘Then from where does she bleed?'

Griffith's look was one of hopelessness. ‘I cannot tell.' He handed the cloth to Gillet and stepped back.

Cécile gasped. Odette's face was a bloody mess. Vaguely aware of Minette whispering to Griffith, Cécile watched as Gillet inspected Odette.

‘Her bones seem fine. There are none which overly disturb her when I touch them.' He lifted Odette's gown to discover the bed soaked in blood. ‘Get the physician, Griffith.' He looked at Cécile gravely. ‘There are no cuts. The bleeding is internal.'

Cécile nodded and flicked her wrist for Griffith to hurry but he was already halfway to the door.

Gillet's adroit fingers continued their search up to Odette's face. ‘It looks as though someone punched her. Her nose is broken. Hang on, Odette. This will hurt a bit.' He placed his hands on either cheek and carefully probed then, with a quick crack, shifted a bone back into place. Odette screamed but returned to her manic sobbing. ‘She'll have two shiners come morning but nothing more that I can tell.' He put a clean cloth in her hand and directed it to her nose, stepping back with a shrug.

Cécile turned to her maid. ‘What happened?' Minette bobbed a curtsey and Cécile noted her high colour.

‘We … I …' Minette hung her head. ‘Griffith came to see me and we were engrossed in our own company when the door burst open and Mademoiselle Odette appeared, covered in blood. Griffith tried to staunch the flow and sent me to find you.'

Odette's wailing was finally subsiding, the noise reducing to hiccoughs of hysteria. Cécile sat beside her friend and took her hand. ‘Odette,' she pleaded, stroking the girl's hair from her forehead. ‘Whatever ails you, I promise we shall fix it.'

Odette opened her swelling eyes and gulped. ‘Can you … fix a broken … heart?' she sobbed.

‘Odette, who did this to you? Who dared to punish you in such fashion?'

‘Eustace!' The name was flung from the girl's throat like a snake spitting poison. ‘He's gone. He's left me.' She rolled onto her side and curled up foetus-style. A large sob curdled her voice. ‘
He lied
!'

Cécile looked at Gillet, venom in her gaze. ‘You should have killed him when you had your chance.'

‘That was not my chance,' stated Gillet, stony-faced. His hands curled into fists. ‘But I shall have it soon.' He leaned over. ‘Odette,
where
has Bonneuil gone?'

The girl began to cough and choke, blood spattering the sheets and Gillet quickly raised her and directed the cloth in her hand back to her nose. ‘Breathe through your mouth.' The door opened to admit the court physician and all talk was suspended.