The Troubadour's Romance (45 page)

There was little conversation, and Felise seemed to fidget more than ever as she waited. Finally, touching her hus
band
’
s hand, she asked,
“
Has she approached you, Royce?
”

He shook his head and addressed him
s
elf to his plate again.

A young squire of Royce
’
s troop entered the hall, and when Royce looked his way he nodded once, then walked past all those dining to the rear of the hall. One more man had entered the town than had left that morning. Royce relaxed in his seat, confident that Trumble knew where the extra man hid.

But still they waited. Celeste played with the food on her plate, but little reached her mouth. Royce could bear the wait no longer.

“
Lady, is there some trouble?
”
he asked her.
“
Are you ill?
”

She shook her head and he noticed that her hand trem
bled.

“
Is there something you need?
”
he pressed. Again she shook her head and the meal passed with no word from her.

Fr
equently
Felise
turned her questioning eyes to Royce
, but Royce simply touched her h
and to warn her toward pa
tience. Many of those who took their meal in the hall were leaving, and
Felise
rose to supervise the cleaning of the hall and storing of the extra food. Royce sat, which was never his custom, in wait
.
Celeste finally rose, lo
oked into Royce
’
s eyes, and mur
mured her excuses.
“
By your leave, messire. I would find my bed.
”

“
Celeste, I worry that you
’
re unwell,
”
he said.

She only shook her head dejectedly and moved to the stairs. Royce felt his stomach tighten.
Damn,
he thought furiously.
She
’
s lost her nerve and won
’
t do
Boltof
’
s
will. She
’
ll sour the whole of it and we won
’
t catch him.

But as Celeste put her hand on the rail, she swooned slightly and, upon catching herself, fell into shuddering sobs. Royce rose to her instantly, quite surprised at her clever ploy to have a word alone with him. When he reached her, she was nearly collapsed and sat on the stair, trembling all over.
“
Celeste,
”
he entreated.
“
What is it?
”

“
Royce, oh Royce. You have such cause to hate me.
”

“
Nay, Celeste, I don
’
t hate you.
”

“
Royce, beware. Boltof plans some trickery here.
”

“
Oh?
”
he questioned, ready to leap into her trap.
“
How so, Celeste? He has gone to Daventry.
”

“
I don
’
t know what he
’
ll do, but I know that somehow he means to have all that you lay claim to. He pretends that I will be rewarded, but I am not so foolish as he thinks. I know he uses me.
”

He grasped her by the upper arms, frowning. Something had failed in their carefully designed plan.
“
What do you say, Celeste?
”

“
He told me to lure you to my chamber late at night when the moon was set and the manor sleeps. You must not come. He plans to do you harm.
”

“
How are you to lure me, Celeste?
”

The woman wept harder, collapsing into Royce
’
s arms, clearly distraught and unable to speak. Her face was wet with tears and her frail limbs shook so dreadfully that Royce waited long for her to finish.

“
How, Celeste? You must tell me.
”

“
With
some tale of
Boltof
’
s
plan. If I promise to tell you how Boltof will steal your bride, you will come to my chamber for the news. He will kill you, I know it.
”

“
Did he say he would kill me? Is that what he plans?
”

“
Oh, nay,
”
she whimpered.
“
He said he would return to Segeland to find you in
my chamber and report this to Fe
lise. But that is not his plan. I know what he will do. As I know my brother, I know his plan. My dagger is gone. Gone!
”

“
Celeste, tell me all. Hurry now!
”

Her eyes cleared slightly, as if she was finding some strength in her confession.
“
I was not going to tell you, and then only I would suffer
... but I am too afraid to die. Forgive me, Royce, but I am a coward. Even though I have nothing to live for, I am too cowardly to die.
”

Royce shook her until wisps of her hair floated down around her face.
“
What does he mean to do?
”
he de
manded.

She looked at him through half-crazed eyes.
“
When you venture to my chamber, he will be waiting for you. How he plans to enter I cannot say. But he will slay you with my dagger and then ...
”
She nearly lost her nerve to go on, but swallowed hard and faced him.
“
He will pierce my heart with the same and form my fingers above the knife.
”

“
He did not tell you this,
”
Royce blustered.
“
How do you guess his crime?
”

“
I know him,
”
she snarled, her lip curling away from her teeth.
“
He would let our bodies lie there until they
’
re discovered, perhaps by
Felise
. She would scorn your memo
ry and welcome a man who would be true. Was that not the way with Aylworth? Was he not close at hand to help the poor accused pick up their shattered lives? He tells you much of my melancholy
--
does he pretend to know the depth of my pain? Will he know it on the morrow, when he journeys here with Wharton? I read a message he had carried to Wharton, and Boltof did not write what he swore he would. Wharton does not bring arms to ward off your attack, but meets Boltof in yon wood.

“
Your lady will be widowed and Boltof will be close at hand to help her bury you. He will gently explain my madness and my jealousy. Royce, you must beware.
”

Royce stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment. He looked over his shoulder to see Felise standing near, listen
ing. She frowned darkly. Royce knelt before Celeste, still holding her upright by the arms.

“
Celeste,
”
Felise said, drawing her attention for the first time.
“
You betray your brother. Why?
”

Celeste seemed startled to find she had been overheard, but only a moment elapsed before she spoke. Though she had begged mercy from Royce and confessed her cowardli
ness, there was hatred in her eyes and voice as she answered Felise.
“
Though you have him, I love him still. And I won
’
t have his blood on my hands.
”

“
So, you save my husband, lady. But you save yourself as well, if you are right about Boltof
’
s plan.
”

“
Nay,
”
she laughed, shaking her head. The tears contin
ued to course down her cheeks.
“
I am afraid to die, and afraid to live. There is nothing for me now but to be my brother
’
s pawn. When Boltof caused me to lose Royce, that was the end of my life. Though I die a slower death, alone, still I die each day.
”
She looked back at Royce and again there was pitiful devotion in her eyes.
“
But you will live.
”

Royce stood and drew Celeste up to her full height.
“
Come, Celeste. The night is young and we must wait for the moon to rise. Look,
”
he said, turning her to indicate the top of the stairs. There she could see Aswin, who stood leaning against his staff with a stout hunter
’
s knife in his belt. He was far from young and his body less than agile, but he was a ready warrior tonight. And his fierce scowl spoke louder than words could. He would not be slowed by his afflictions tonight.

Celeste looked back at Royce.
“
You knew,
”
she breathed.

“
Aye. And I waited for your betrayal. I did not think you wise enough to see through Boltof
’
s treachery, but perhaps you have removed the last question. We knew he would do something terrible, but none of us knew what or how.
”

Her eyes grew cold and dry.
“
Would that I had the courage to hate you as I should.
”

Royce smiled coolly into her pale blue eyes. He felt the strangest combination of scorn and pity. She had found no virtue in honesty all these years and allowed herself to be the victim of Boltof
’
s misuse, yet she showed on this night
that she could discern truth from lies, if the lie came close enough to pierce her own breast.

“
How long have you known that Boltof killed my broth
er?
”
he asked her.

She looked at him as if she would look through him. Her chin lifted only slightly and her mouth was fixed in a straight line. She did not have to answer further. Whether before or after the crime, she had known and pledged herself to Royce just the same, encouraging him to trust Boltof, though he was a cowardly murderer. All these years Royce had thought Celeste noble and compassionate, for she had never mentioned his suspicious past or the many accusations levied against him.

His voice was cold and hard when he spoke.
“
Come, Celeste. We have an appointment when the moon is set. To your chamber, my love.
”

Twenty

The creaking of the gate as it closed gave Boltof courage. He smiled to himself as he crouched behind a stall in the stable. He heard the sounds of men hanging bridles and brushing their animals. Feed was put out for the horses, and the beasts snorted and slopped as they ate. The last to leave closed the stable door, but it was not locked. In this fair village of Royce
’
s there was no need for bolts, for the guard was hearty, and once the wall was secure around the hall and town, no one could enter. Boltof laughed.

It had been more simple than he had predicted. His face averted, he had simply walked in behind a wagon. His step weary, a hoe in his hand, he had moved silently to the stable and into a stall and crouched there. No one even looked at him.

He judged an hour had passed and allowed himself to stand and stretch. It perked up his pulse and his energy seemed to soar, for he rather liked the creeping darkness. When it was time to brace his lance or draw his broadsword, fear prickled him. He had never admitted this, that he was frightened of battle. But he hated it. Yet here, knowing that he would meet no equal foe, he felt excited.

The sun was gone and there was no sound but the
shuffling of animals as they settled for the night with full bellies. He had watched the hall and village for many nights, though no one knew. Guards were posted on the wall near the gate but did not roam the streets in the dark. Trumble had a bell that he could ring clamorously if he saw trouble from his perch. But Boltof had walked through the ke
ep and town when all slept an
d no one had stirred. He knew a way to the hall that would not cast a shadow for Trumble to see.

He used the window in the back of the stable for his exit and sat on the ground, leaning against a wagon wheel, to watch the hall. He could see the whole length of the street from the gate to the front of the hall, where the double doors were closed against the darkness. Another hour passed while he chewed a piece of straw and patiently waited.

He sat upright at the sound of an opening door. An old woman came out of a cottage and began to walk toward the hall. She used a stick to lean on and her other arm was heavy with folded cloth. Her passage was slow and painful, her back slightly bent. A heavy woolen cloak with a hood that covered her head gave her more than ample protection against the chill of the spring night. Boltof watched her move to the hall, enter, and close the door. Moments later she left empty-handed, taking agonizing steps back to her cottage. He relaxed against the wheel again.

One by one the cottages darkened as the hour grew late. Boltof couldn
’
t see the windows on the hall
’
s second level, but he did not bother much about that. Two bright torches lit the doors on either side, but he wouldn
’
t use those huge oaken portals for his entrance. There was another way in through the back, where the knights deposited their freshly killed game for the cooks. If he found that residents were still astir in their chambers, he could easily lurk in the stairwells and galleries while he waited.

When he judged the time to be right, he walked swiftly toward the hall and around the side to the rear, he damned the creaking door when he entered, but no one stirred. Pausing briefly, he could hear a few snores from the main hall as a knight or two slept. He smiled at the sound. These hearties would let an entire band of brigands through. Royce would do better not to work them so hard by
day ... but he would not have the luxury to consider that after tonight.

Boltof worried that Celeste would fail him, but he could get around that. His sister was weakening. He was coming to realize that the depressed spirit he spoke of was fact and not just a ploy he used. She required much encouragement from him to do her part. She whined and fretted and wept, accusing him of causing her despair. A year ago she would have risen to the task of summoning Royce to her chamber, and though she was not clever, she had been capable of simple chores like this. But Royce
’
s marriage had taken its toll.

Celeste would not defy him, for she feared him. And he had promised her a beating if she gave the slightest clue to their planned trap. But she might indeed fail to summon Royce. He was a bullheaded man; he might simply refuse her. It didn
’
t matter. He would simply take another route to his plan. He would peer into the lord
’
s chamber first to see who slept there, and then he would go to Celeste.

The hall that joined the sleeping rooms on the second level was dark and quiet. A torch lit the wide gallery at the far end and cast his form as a shadow, but there was no one about. He passed his sister
’
s chamber, noting with a smile that there was light creeping from under her door. He walked on, his soft cloth shoes making no sound. The poor wool of the peasant garb he wore chafed him, but he was like a cat as he moved and he would not so much as scratch.

The lord
’
s chamber was dark and he listened for several moments with his ear pressed against the door. He slowly pushed the door open, again silently cursing the squeak of the leather hinges that announced his entry, but there was no sound within the chamber. He looked toward the high bed and saw the single, small mound under the quilt. So, she slept alone. Celeste had somehow managed to serve him one more time.

He went back to his sister
’
s door and paused there, listening to the small whisperings within. She had done well. He could tell that her best whimpering delayed the knight. He felt the handle of the knife in one hand, his other han
d lightly touching the door. Tw
o knives were carried in
his belt: a thick and sharp hunting knife and his sister
’
s dainty, silver-handled dagger. He couldn
’
t trust the lighter weapon to finish Royce, but who would crouch over his body and be assured it was not Celeste
’
s blade that rent his flesh? A wound was a wound, and as long as the point pierced his back, it could be considered a woman
’
s crime. There was no way Celeste could take the knight face to face, and it must look the part of jealous rage.

He silently pushed at the door, there were no screaming hinges here. He had carefully determined that much before leaving Segeland. His first sight showed him a man
’
s back in the dim room, and Celeste sitting on a stool before the hearth, weeping into her trembling hands. Royce
’
s back to his blade was too good to waste. He had earlier thought to enter the room to find them, demand that Royce leave, and slay him as he departed, but this piece of work was handy.

Boltof rushed through the door, arm raised high. Celeste gave the merest gasp of surprise, for there was no more time. Yet from behind he was struck on the wrist and the knife clattered to the floor. He whirled to face the powerful wrath of the lord of Segeland.

“
It is over, Boltof,
”
Royce growled.

Boltof looked in panic at the man he would have slain and watched as he slowly rose, using his staff to help him turn. Orrick eyed him with nothing less than hatred.

“
You,
”
Boltof whispered.

Celeste rose from the stool and looked at her brother. She wept no more but faced him with a look of serenity.

“
You
’
re finished, Boltof. It is chains, or your life,
”
Royce warned.

Boltof knew a sudden prickling fear that matched nothing he had ever felt in his life. He would have traded a thousand battles for the towering rage that showed in the dark eyes of Royce. In a moment he would be dead if that one but yielded to his certain desire to strike. He could think of but one chance to escape and threw himself against Royce, knocking him away from the door.

Boltof gained the passageway and ran toward the lord
’
s chamber, the dagger now in his hand. He hit the door with his shoulder as Royce clamored somewhere behind him.

Boltof
’
s
face was twisted in a fierce snarl as he flew into the chamber and made for the bed. The little bitch who called herself lady here would help him make his way out of the keep. If he could but get to his horse, he
’
d make for Coventry. He was guilty of nothing yet, unless they meant to hang him for wearing farmer
’
s clothes or walking the hallways and galleries at night. He
’
d hold the knife at her throat and her life would open every door in Segeland hall and town.

He tore back the covers on the master
’
s bed and gasped in stunned surprise. An old hag rested where the lady should lie. He felt a viselike grip take him from behind and at the same time saw Royce come through the chamber door.

“
Hold, Boltof,
”
Hewe said from behind him.
“
You are finished here.
”

He squirmed within the young knight
’
s firm grasp and felt his arms pinned behind him. The knife was taken away and he was clasped and held as if by an army.

“
Well done, Sir Hewe,
”
Royce said. He walked toward the bed and held out his hand.
“
My lady?
”
he beckoned, reaching to help Ulna out of his bed. The old woman laboriously extracted herself and moved toward the door to leave, humpbacked and slow, just as she had walked from her cottage to the hall. Boltof groaned as he saw their trick.

“
Who betrayed me?
”
he demanded hotly.

Aswin and Celeste, much slower than Royce, had found the room.

“
You betrayed yourself, Boltof. You were heard as you plotted and you were seen in Coventry with Wharton. And Celeste can abide your plots no longer. You
’
ve used her too poorly.
”
Royce glanced over his shoulder at Celeste.
“
You were foolish to consider her a pawn for your greed. She is wiser than you reckoned and knew you intended her death ... and mine.
”

Boltof looked at the eyes that observed him. Aswin glared at him but held his mouth clamped shut, refusing to speak. Royce
’
s face held an expression of victory, but his eyes were no less furious. And Celeste, who had always done his will without question, showed only cold contempt. Boltof sud
denly began to laugh loudly.

“
Hah! So you
’
ve caught me. Well and good. What will you do now? Murder me?
”

“
Nay, Boltof, but you
’
ll die for your crimes. By the grace of God you were stopped here, but Aylworth was not so lucky. You
’
ll pay for his death.
”

“
Aylworth? What say you, Royce? You can
’
t blame me for Aylworth. You said yourself we were together the night he died. No one would believe you. You
’
re without proof.
”

Celeste moved closer to Royce.
“
You killed him, Boltof, just as you would have killed Royce and me. Not in a battle worthy of honorable foes, not in a contest between men who stand tall for their differences, but in the dark of night with great advantage.
”
She shook her head sadly.
“
Had I known what you would do, I would have found a way to stop you. But I waited too long and let you poison my mind with your ranting and your greed.
”

Boltof gnashed his teeth in frustration, for Hewe held him fast. The manor came to life all around them, and the sound of doors and voices below and the light from the stairway gave proof to the fact that they had all feigned sleep while they waited for him to make his move.

“
Celeste,
”
he warned,
“
you will not betray me further!
”

“
I have little choice. If I save you, you will only kill me one day. You must pay for your sins, just as I must pay for mine.
”
She softened her voice but her eyes were still cold.
“
God
’
s mercy on your soul, Boltof. You have cost us all much.
”
She turned her back on him and left the room.

“
Celeste! Nay, you will not!
”

Aswin turned as well.
“
I
’
ll be certain she causes us no more trouble,
”
he said, following his stepdaughter.

Only Royce faced Boltof.
“
I should have known,
”
Royce said.
“
You trumpeted the madness all around you. The Leightons, you said. Yet I suspect now that perhaps Ayl
worth was wrongly accused of poor rule. His estate here did not flourish, but he had held it for only a short time and without the wealth of a dower purse, as I have enjoyed. Mayhap my brother would have proven a decent lord, given a chance. And my father? Yea, his madness came from the woman he stole. He struggled for better than a dozen years to hold the wall against neighbors who believed him cursed and would attack him because of his sin. And the woman,
his hostage-lady? Aye, she was mad. And how much of the Leightons
’
curse came from you? Or Trothmore?