The Whispering Night (21 page)

It was misty and cold
when they stepped outside.  Derica pulled the hood of her cloak around her
tightly to ward off the chill.  The destrier was brought around by the same
sleepy lad who had taken him the night before.  Garren loaded their bags on the
steed and lifted his wife into the saddle.  Derica put a piece of bread in his
mouth to thank him for his efforts.  He gathered the reins and was preparing to
lead the horse off when a figure approached through the mist. Neither Derica
nor Garren saw until it was too late.

“Derica,” came a
familiar voice.

Derica nearly jumped out
of her skin.  Uncharacteristically startled, Garren made an instinctive move for
the broadsword strapped to the front of his saddle. 

Hoyt de Rosa emerged
from the shrouding fog, covered with a black cloak and looking like the Devil
himself. Derica and Garren immediately noticed something different; the
flamboyant de Rosa was dressed in armor and not the usual fine silks. He looked
as he had before his accident, an enormous knight to be feared and hated. Their
anxiety deepened.

 Hoyt came to a halt
several feet away. Garren put himself and his weapon between the elder de Rosa
and his wife, bracing himself for what was surely to come.

“I wish no trouble, my
lord,” he said. “But another step and I will be forced to defend myself.”

Hoyt’s gaze moved
between his niece and Garren. He shook his head, long with hair that he had not
cut in years. Without the rouge and eye makeup, he looked quite masculine.

 “Do you have any idea
how worried your father is?” he asked Derica. “We have been searching for
days.”

Derica was torn between
shame and defiance. “How did you find us?”

Hoyt crossed his arms
thoughtfully. “’Twas not a matter of finding you, but following you.” He looked
at Garren. “My brother captured the man you hired to abduct Derica.”

Garren’s heart sank,
thinking of his friend Fergus and remorseful that the man’s loyalty had gotten
him killed. “Did his death bring you the information you sought?”

“I do not know.  I did
not interrogate him. While my nephews were intent on inflicting pain, I rode
back along his trail and found small footsteps branching off into the forest. 
There was an abbey over the hill. So I lay in wait and was rewarded, the next
day, to see you both ride from the abbey. As I said, it was simply a matter of
following you and biding my time.”

“I am not going home,
Uncle Hoyt,” Derica wasn’t sure how to address him, but it didn’t seem right
calling him Lady Cleo Blossom when he was dressed in armor. “Garren and I were
married yesterday. I am his wife and I am staying with him.”

“I suspected as much.”

Garren watched his body
language carefully; he was armed, but had yet to unsheathe his sword. It hung
at his side. In fact, he’d made no aggressive moments at all.

“If you have come to
take her home, you have wasted your time,” Garren said. “You may report back to
her father than she is well and happy, and we intend to have a good life
together.”

Hoyt shook his head. “I
have not come to take her home, nor do I intend to tell my brother anything at
the moment.”

“Then what do you want?”

Hoyt was silent a
moment, as if contemplating something very deep. “Garren,” he said slowly. “Does
the Marshall know what you have done?”

Garren’s guard went up,
higher than ever.  He was very good at denying his true vocation and used that
experience.

“So you still think I am
a spy, is that it?”

“Games are not
necessary, sir knight.  I know that you are sworn to William Marshall and that
he sent you to Framlingham to spy on my brother. Did he not tell you that there
would be another set of eyes at Framlingham?”

“I do not know what you
mean.”

Hoyt smiled ironically.
“I thought you would not,” he said. “But do you know this?
La lealtà alla
morte. Onorare soprattutto.”

          Garren stared
at him, long and hard. He had no idea how Hoyt de Rosa would know that unless
the Marshall had told him. There was a code with the Marshall’s men, something
that identified them to one another. Each man had what was termed his ‘phrase’,
a specific combination of words that another agent would speak to him to let
him know he was an ally. In a startling twist, Hoyt had just spoken Garren’s
phrase, and there was only one reply possible.

“
Lungo vive il re
,”
Garren said softly.

“Then you believe me.”

Garren wasn’t sure how
to reply. Although he did not lower his sword, his manner was less defensive
and more curious. “Why did you not identify yourself earlier?”

“I did not want to give
myself away, so to speak,” Hoyt replied.  “I am sorry I could not be of help
when my brothers’ persecuted you. Had I intervened any more than I did, surely
they would have suspected something. I could not risk it.”

Garren lowered the
sword. He glanced at his wife; he wanted to see how she was reacting to all of
this. From her expression, it was clear that she was shocked.

“But…,” Derica hardly
noticed her husband looking at her. “I do not understand, Uncle Hoyt. Do you
mean to say that you serve William Marshall?”

“It would seem so,” Hoyt
walked towards them, slowly. “Many years ago, I served John and Richard’s
father. When Henry died, my loyalties naturally fell with John because he was
Henry’s favorite and, I believed, rightful heir to the throne. But over the
years I have come to see what a weak ruler he would be. Already, the man tears
this country apart and he is only a prince. What would happen if he were king?”

“You sound like my
father,” Garren said quietly.

“Your father is
correct,” Hoyt agreed firmly. “At a tournament a few years ago, I came into
contact with William Marshall. I knew him from when he served Henry, as we both
fought for the king in our prime. After a few hours conversation, I realized I
was in complete agreement with him.  Richard was our best choice for king. So,
with a convenient bump on my head at the very same tournament, suddenly I am
crazy and my brothers pay little attention to me. Better to observe for
Richard’s cause in such a way and never be suspected.”

Derica’s jaw hung open.
“Then the dress, the rouge, was an act? You were spying?”

“Nay; not really. I
never completely gave over my support to the Marshall, as my loyalties to my
family were stronger than my loyalties to the king. But, as I saw necessary,
bits of information made their way to the Marshall for the king’s cause. I
walked a fine line between betraying my brothers and helping England. It wasn’t
until very recently that I decided to lend full support to Richard. From now
on, the Marshall will know everything that I know. I hold back no longer.”               

Garren listened to the
very clever explanation, but he couldn’t help probing for his own peace of
mind. “What finally caused you to lend full support?”

Hoyt looked him in the
eye. “Two thousand French mercenaries due on the shores of Norfolk within the
week.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. With the
several thousand Teutonic and Irish mercenaries already at Nottingham and
Bolton, they’ll create a formidable army for the prince.”

“How do you know this?”

“The same spy who identified
you to my brother also reported this. The man is a frequent visitor to
Framlingham. When I saw him skulk through the front gates, I knew something was
amiss. I heard everything he said.”

“Spy? What spy?”

“His name is Alberic. He
has worked for the prince’s cause for several years. He knew you on sight and
told my brother of you.”

Garren nodded in
understanding as it became clear how Bertram knew of his loyalties. “As I would
probably know him on sight as well,” he muttered. “’Tis wise to know the face
of the enemy even if you do not know his name.”

“Precisely.”

Satisfied with that
mystery solved, Garren returned to the subject at hand. “How soon do you
estimate that the mercenaries already on English soil will merge with the
French?”

“Within four to five
weeks.”

Garren was grim. “They
will tear England apart.”

“Exactly.”

“Does the Marshall
know?”

“No,” Hoyt said. “That
is why you must go to him immediately. I must return to Framlingham and resume
my place. It is up to you, Garren. You must tell him.”

Garren tore his gaze
away from Hoyt long enough to look at his wife. She was ashen with fear.

“I must get my wife to
safety first,” he said after a moment. “I will tell the Marshall once she is
settled.”

Hoyt could not disagree.
“I do not dispute you, especially with my brother on the rampage. I will try to
hold him off as best I can, but I cannot promise success.” He looked at his
niece and his manner softened. “I will not ask where you are going. I do not
want to know. But I do hope that you are truly happy, wherever you may go.”

Tears filled Derica’s
eyes. She had always been particularly close to her uncle. Dismounting the
charger, she embraced him, drawing strength from the Hoyt of old and not the
strange creature he had been over the past few years. Yet she understood his
reasons; politics and deep beliefs were strong motivators for men’s loyalties.

“God be with you, Uncle
Hoyt,” she murmured. “I pray we meet again, very soon.”

He kissed her forehead.
Derica went back to the charger and Garren lifted her up once again. He could
see how upset she was and kissed her hand to comfort her. By the time he turned
around, Hoyt was disappearing into the mist.

“De Rosa,” he called.
“We shall meet again.”

“I am sure we will. If
you do not take good care of my niece, it will be sooner than you think.”

Garren could barely see
the man’s outline through the sea of white. “There is one last thing, my lord.”

“Speak.”

“The man your nephews
captured… he is an old and dear friend. If you could discover what’s become of
him, I would be grateful.”

“Consider it done.”

Garren was satisfied. As
he adjusted his wife’s cloak and finally gathered the reins, it was Hoyt who
called out to him.

“Garren?”

“What?”

There was a lengthy
silence. “There is something I should tell you. There are more of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the de Rosa house.
There is another who shares our views and is willing to help.”

Garren thought on that.
“My advice is caution, my lord.  Men such as us do not live long if our trust,
even in family members, is given easily.”

“Prudent advice.”

The morning mist
swallowed them up as they went their separate ways.

***

When the soldiers had
cleared an all other de Rosas were gone, Donat and Dixon advanced on their
captive. Donat balled his fists while Dixon carried a club. Fergus saw them
coming and he lowered his head, closing his eyes against what was surely to
come. 

His body was taut with
expectation. But he found it strange when he heard a dull thump, followed by a
grunt, and it did not come from him.  Opening an eye, he saw one of the de Rosa
brother’s on the ground. The man was unconscious.  Puzzled, Fergus opened both
eyes and looked up.

Donat rubbed his
knuckles, glancing down at his brother. When he saw that Fergus was looking at
him, he shook his head.

“Hated to do that,” he
said. “But he was about to bash your brains in. Are you badly injured? ”

Fergus didn’t know what
to say. “W-what?”

“I asked if you are
badly injured. I tried not to be too harsh, but for appearance sake, I had to
do a nominal amount of damage.”

Fergus’ puzzlement grew
by leaps and bounds.  He looked at Dixon, sleeping forcibly upon the grass.
“What is happening? Why is your brother on the ground?””

Donat replied as he
untied the ropes that bound Fergus to the tree. “I had to do that. He meant you
great harm.”

“And you didn’t?” Fergus
jerked his hands free, stepping away from Donat as he rubbed his wrists. “Just
what in the hell is going on here? You pounded me for the better part of a day
and now you knock your brother cold when…?”

Donat put his hands up
in a supplicating gesture. “I know you do not understand any of this, but let
me explain. I am not against you, man. I am with you. What I did, I had to do
for the sake of my family. It wasn’t anything personal against you.”

Fergus was about to
explode. “What you did?” he clapped a hand to his forehead. “Perhaps you’d
better start from the beginning. Why did you just release me?”

“Because you took my
sister to be with le Mon.”

Fergus sneered. “Eh?”

“Le Mon and my sister.
You took her to be with him, did you not? I had to pretend to beat you in order
that my father and uncles wouldn’t have a go at you. Then you’d be in a world
of pain right now, my friend. I had to put on a show.”