The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (41 page)

“And now you do.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Mandon said. “It will be hard on Seguin. He never should have married that woman. Good fruit comes from good stock. Elissent was of the family of Empress Judith. She was bound to breed traitors.”

“Oh, yes, Judith, the one with the curse,” Catherine remembered.

“Elissent?” Agnes asked.

“No, it was Aymon,” Catherine told her. “Marie couldn’t understand what had made his wounds nor why he wasn’t able to walk when nothing vital had been pierced. But I didn’t suspect him until he ran away. I knew Samonie would have wakened if anyone had tried to take him. And now I think I know what wounded him.”

She pointed to a quiver of short copper arrows.

“You two did it, didn’t you?”

“We couldn’t let him leave,” Berthe said. “We needed him to direct Olivier’s engineers.”

At last Catherine understood why there had been so little activity in the enemy camp. Edgar must have suspected this. Her heart froze. Someone had told her he had been seen this morning in the bailey with Brehier. They couldn’t be so foolish as to have left the safety of the walls to find out.

“Olivier can’t breach the walls, so he’s digging under them,” she said.

Berthe nodded. “If one knows where, it isn’t hard to penetrate one of the tunnels.

Agnes was becoming more bewildered. “You wanted Olivier to undermine Boisvert?”

“Not exactly.” Mandon smiled. “You’ll understand soon. But first, we must assemble the key. The time is come to retrieve the treasure.”

The only treasure Catherine could imagine at this moment was to have her family around her and all of them safe at home. Still, after all they’d been through, she could spare a moment to see what Andonenn had been protecting all these years.

Mandon and Berthe picked up the knives again. Both Catherine and Agnes stiffened. Then the women carefully twisted the blades. There was a click and the metal slid from the hilts. The pieces hidden within the handle were oddly serrated. Catherine watched in growing comprehension as the women turned the blades around and inserted them back into the wood so that the serrated pieces were now sticking out. They looked very much like keys.

Berthe and Mandon moved toward a dark opening in the cave.

“Come with us,” they beckoned.

Catherine and Agnes followed. Mandon set a lantern on a long table and then walked around it. On the other side was a huge empty basin carved from the stone.

“This was Andonenn’s pool,” Berthe told them. “The one where she brought Jurvale. Until Seguin married Elissent, it was always full of clear water. But Judith’s curse grew stronger with her kin under our roof. It made the earth slide and stopped the flow of the spring. We knew that, even if he knew what had happened, the curse would keep Gargenaud from digging it out.”

“Wait.” This was too much for Catherine. “You arranged all this? People have died! The castle is about to be taken over. Those poor guards were tortured to death by Olivier’s man!”

“We know,” Mandon said. “It grieves us, as it did to kill those clumsy thieves. We shall have to answer to God for our deeds someday. But we at least know that we have saved Andonenn and given the treasure back to the world.”

Agnes leaned over and whispered to Catherine. “I’m sorry I blamed you for Mother’s madness. It’s obvious that this place addled her mind before we were ever born.”

“You realize these women are our aunts,” Catherine whispered back.

“Himmel!”
Agnes exclaimed. “Is this what will happen to us!”

The women appeared not to have heard them. They stepped into the dry pool and went to the center, where a square pillar stood. They inserted the knives into slots on either side of it and turned.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the block began to move with a creak that made Catherine’s back teeth shriek in agony.

Mandon lifted the top off. Berthe reached in and took out a parcel wrapped in ancient sheepskin. She cradled it in her arms as she brought it over to Catherine.

“Of all Andonenn’s children, we feel you are the one who
can use this most wisely,” she said as she handed her the treasure.

Catherine took the object. It was heavy. She started to unwrap it, but Berthe stopped her.

“Not here,” she said. “There isn’t time. Please, share a cup of wine with us. It is the last from Andonenn’s dowry. To honor her. Then you must take the treasure and leave.”

“A cup of wine?” Catherine was disgusted. “Is this some weird pagan ritual or do you intend to poison us?”

Agnes touched her arm. “I don’t think they mean us harm,” she said. “Although I’m not completely sure. Let’s drink. What difference does it make? Olivier’s army will soon overrun the keep. I want to get back to Gottfried and Hermann. If we are going to die, I want to be with them.”

Mandon smiled with childish joy at their acquiesence. Carefully she poured an equal amount from the pitcher into each of the silver cups. She gave one to Agnes and, after she had shifted the treasure to balance against her chest with her left arm, one to Catherine. She and Berthe lifted theirs.

“To Andonenn’s children and saviors,” Berthe said. “May you continue to be blessed.”

Catherine tasted the wine. Then tasted it again. The first sip made her think it had spoiled. There was a fizz to it. But it didn’t have the rotten smell of bad wine. It was more like tasting stars. She drank the rest eagerly. If it was poison, it was the best she had ever tasted.

“Now hurry!” Mandon pushed the two of them out of the cavern and toward the tunnel. “Follow the string. Quickly now. Don’t worry. Everything is going according to plan.”

“But why all this mystery?” Catherine called back over her shoulder.

“It was the only way to do it,” Berthe called back. “We needed to make a miracle. Now run!”

Edgar’s arms and legs had gone completely numb.

“What’s happening now?” He strained painfully to twist enough to see.

“I’m not sure.” Brehier craned his neck to get a better view. “The engineers broke through a while ago into one of the tunnels. Olivier immediately sent his soldiers down. They must be on their way up to the keep by now.”

“We’ve got to get free,” Edgar said desperately. “Before the guards come back.”

“Keep struggling,” Brehier suggested. “Maybe a rope will snap.”

Preposterous though it seemed, Edgar had no better idea.

“Damn,” he said. “I’ve pulled a muscle in my leg.”

“Edgar, something strange is going on,” Brehier said a while later. “The soldiers are coming back. It looks like they’re wet.”

“Wet? There are no baths at Boisvert,” Edgar said. “The well is drying up. What could they have landed in?”

“I don’t know, but more are coming,” Brehier reported. “They appear soaked as if they’d been caught in a sudden rain. Edgar, I think Aymon directed them to dig into the underground spring!”

“How?” Edgar said. “No one knows where it is.”

“They do now.” Brehier was getting more and more excited. “They aren’t climbing out now, but bodies are gushing out on the water. Some of them aren’t moving.”

Edgar felt tears sliding from the corners of his eyes.

“The siege is over, Brehier,” he said. “Olivier can’t get into Boisvert. They’re safe. Catherine and my children are safe.”

Catherine and Agnes were up to the lower storerooms when they heard the roar behind them. They looked back. The stairs they had just climbed were now rapidly being covered with water.

“Catherine,” Agnes said. “Mandon and Berthe are down there. They’ll drown.”

“I know,”Catherine said. “They did, too. Agnes, there’s nothing we can do. They wanted us to be saved. And the treasure.”

“Whatever is in that box had better be worth it,” Agnes said. “But I don’t believe it will be.”

“I don’t, either,” Catherine agreed. “There is nothing worth the price that’s been paid for it.”

They entered the hall to find it full of people. Everyone from the castle and village seemed to be gathered there. Wine and beer were being passed and liberally quaffed.

“Mama!” James raced up to her. “Mama, we won!”

“We did?” Catherine bent to receive his hug. “Where’s your father?”

“He didn’t come back yet,” James said.

“What? But he’s been gone for hours!”

James caught her panic. “Mama, they won’t cut off Papa’s other hand, will they?”

His shrill voice rose over the joyous chatter of the others.

“Of course not,” Catherine said.

She realized that everyone was looking at her. The box containing the treasure slid to the ground.

“What has happened to my husband?”

No one wanted to answer. From the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Samonie, sitting by the hearth. She wasn’t rejoicing.

Catherine went cold all over. The room was too full, the faces leering. Everything was spinning. Her head fell back and she collapsed into her sister’s arms.

In the woods, Edgar was considering the situation.

“The one problem with Olivier being washed out of Boisvert is that he has no reason now to keep us alive,” he told Brehier.

“Aren’t we still worth a ransom?” Brehier wanted to know. His efforts at breaking the ropes around his ankles had only made his feet go numb.

“Maybe, but it’s more likely he’ll be so angry at wasting all these that he’ll slaughter us in spite.”

“You seem calm for a man convinced he’s about to be killed,” Brehier complained.

“My family is no longer in danger,” Edgar said. “Solomon will see that they are cared for. I’d like to do it myself, but this is a fair trade.”

“I would have liked to get to know my son,” Brehier sighed. “But at least I know that I shall leave something behind me when I die. Do you think they’ll let us have a priest?”

They both were silent, thinking of the sins they would not have time to do penance for. From the mouth of Olivier’s tunnel, there were wails of anger and grief.

All at once, the cries changed to ones of fear. Brehier looked up.

“Horses,” he said. “I hear horses. You don’t think that Thibault has come to save us at last?”

“Catherine? Catherine? Please wake up.” Margaret was rubbing her temples with some acrid oil. “Solomon came back! He brought men to lift the siege. Everything is all right. They found Edgar. He’s fine.”

The words penetrated slowly into Catherine’s unconscious.

“Here,
deorling
,” a deep voice interrupted. “Let me have her.”

It was the sound of his heartbeat against her ear that brought Catherine to herself again. It was so constant and reassuring.

Margaret had expected that Catherine would fly into hysterics when she realized Edgar was alive, but she only turned in his arms so that she could hold him more tightly. He looked down into her face. The expression was so intimate that Margaret had to turn away. They would have only a moment before being overwhelmed by the affections of their children.

Margaret was happy that the ordeal was over. She never wanted to go below ground again, not even into a root cellar. It
would be good to return to the Paraclete, where life had order and sense and legends were safely in the distant past. These people were not hers. She didn’t belong in their world.

There was an empty alcove on the far side of the hall, half hidden by curtains. Margaret made her way there, planning to hide until the celebration ebbed.

Someone else had already had the same idea.

“Solomon!” Margaret stepped toward him

He stood. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to return. Your grandfather is not an easy man to track down.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I. . .that is, we were worried about you.”

Solomon wished he knew how he felt about her. He knew he loved her; he had since she was a child. But he was terribly afraid that it was more than an avuncular fondness. When he was traveling, her face and voice, the auburn braids, seemed to be in his thoughts all the time. When he was with another woman, he felt her sadness. And now, the sight of her, so much in pain, broke his heart.

“Margaret,” he said. “You know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Except convert.” She smiled to take away the sting of the words.

“I can’t any more than you could.” He turned toward the window, unable to look into her eyes. “But even if I did, it would still be impossible. You know that. Your grandfather has other plans for you. And your brother would never let me cross his threshold again. You know it as well as I do.”

“Yes.” There was an ocean of grief in that word.

“You only feel like this because I bring you presents,” Solomon tried to tease her. “Wait until young lords come courting you. You’ll see what a poor catch I’d be.”

Margaret came and stood beside him. They both stared out the window into the village and the fields beyond.

“Solomon,” she said at last. “Do you love me or do you just feel pity for my hopelessness?”

Now was the time to do the noble thing. He should cut himself off from her forever. She deserved a rich, happy life, free of regret.

He opened his mouth to lie. She turned her face up to his, her large light brown eyes shining with tears. The words escaped him before he could react.