Wildewood Revenge (32 page)

“You see, supposing you get me on my back and supposing you succeed in slitting my throat, how do you then intend to overpower my men and free your lover?”

Grace looked from him to his men and back again. She looked from Miles to the door and back again. Miles recognised the
tell tale
threads of panic as she chewed at her lip once more to stop it from quivering. One hand strayed to her fringe, the strands tangled mercilessly between shaky fingers. He desperately needed her to do the right thing, but he doubted she would choose sensible over reckless. She glanced at him questioningly but held tight as he was
,
he could do little to help. Her knuckles were white around the handle of the knife and it was taking some effort of concentration to keep her arm straight out in front of her. She swallowed nervously. Miles knew her head would be full of all the terrible things he had told her about, Gerard and her fate should she be caught. He wished now that he’d held his tongue. Could Gerard tell, he wondered, did he realise how scared she was, how easily he could have taken the knife from her.

Gerard interrupted his thoughts.

“We could stand here all night until one of us falters, but to be honest, and I think even Miles would agree, you my dear would fall long before any of the men before you. Give me the knife or would you prefer me to take it from you?”

She glanced at Miles and he gave a barely discernible nod, far better she gave it willingly, he did not want Gerard to take anything from her. Slowly she pulled back her hand and the knife hung slackly by her side.

“I think I’ll just hang onto it while we discuss this situation.” Her voice shook but she maintained her position and hung onto the knife,
“and then you can let us go and we’ll all be on our way.”

Gerard considered her for a long moment, flicking his gaze between her and Miles thoughtfully.  Finally he turned, nodded to his men and they released Miles, causing him to stumble to the ground, his upper arms numb from being held. He flexed his shoulders and grimaced as the blood came rushing back in a wave of pins and needles. Gerard inclined his head to Grace and stood aside so she could join Miles. She crossed the room on shaky feet with her head held high and slipped her hand in his. Her gentle warmth within his strong grip renewed his resolve and he pulled himself to his feet and squared up to Gerard.

“Miles, it pains me to admit it, but if this girl is your chosen one, then you have chosen wisely. Her courage in the face of the inevitable is quite impressive.”

Miles stayed silent. Now free from restraint they had a chance. He glanced quickly around the room, noted the position of the soldiers in relation to the steps and the doorway.

“Gerard, the king will want his treasure, what do you hope to achieve by keeping it from him?”

“Edward knows nothing about it, and never shall.”

“But why?
You don’t need this, you have wealth and land. Why do you align yourself with the likes of Guy de
Marchant
? Look about you. Do you not see what he’s done?” Miles gestured to the English trophies. “This is the work of a madman, if you do not condemn this and him, then you condone it and the king will finish you.”

“I do not condone this,” growled Gerard. “I know nothing of this and I will not pay the king’s price for Guy’s actions. I will deal with Guy, but Edward must remain in ignorance.”

Miles shook his head in frustration. “Listen to me. You say my
mother’s death was an accident, if that is so, why do you resist my title to
Wildewood
? My mother was a de
Frouville
’ she was originally gifted
Wildewood
by your mother. Why do you deny me my
birthright
?”

“
Wildewood
was never gifted to your mother. It was simply a convenient place to put her when it was no longer possible for her to share my mother’s roof. You have no rights to de
Frouville
’ land,” stated Gerard flatly.

“What about the rights as my father’s son?” hissed Miles?

“A bastard has no rights.”

“The king thinks differently, and when he discovers what has transpired, I have a fancy he’ll ensure you change your mind. Gerard, for God’s sake think man; you risk losing everything, everything your forefathers have fought hard to retain, and for what, some ridiculous childhood hatred?” Miles shook his head “You know Grace is no witch and yet you instigate investigation, send for the Bishop, bay for her blood...why? Gerard, what threat does she pose to you?”

“She is connected to Reynard, is she not?”

“What has Hugh to do with any of this? What is he to you?” This was the second time Hugh had been suggested as an answer to the current situation. What was it that both Alex and Gerard knew and he did not.

“If you have to ask the question then you know less than you think.” Gerard narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “Considerably less than you think. I almost pity you, Miles. The people around you, whom you believe you can trust, have not been entirely truthful. Ask Hugh to explain it to you...although on second thoughts perhaps it’s better that you don’t. The king arrives at
Alnwick
in three days. It is in all of our interests, that you do not reach the king or Reynard for that matter.
Which of course leaves me with a dilemma... what shall I do with you?”

Miles tightened his grip on Grace’s hand and she sidled closer to him.

“I could just kill you both now and be done with it, but I’m impressed with the courage of your lady and when all’s said and done I may have use of you both yet. So I think, on balance, I will leave you both here with the dead until the king has gone. If you still live by my return then we will reconsider your future. If you do not then you will unfortunately be remembered as an irreverent thief. An inglorious end for such a noble knight, the king will be disappointed, and Reynard, well he will wonder if the time spent teaching you the chivalrous arts were worth his effort.”

He climbed the steps and paused at the open door. “See how you enjoy spending what time you have left, in the house of the dead, Miles. If you’ve not been driven mad by your ghostly cellmates I may call on you after the king has left
Alnwick
. It is a pity you and the little witch will miss him. Pity too he will miss the burning. Let’s not forget the Bishop is on his way.”

He closed the door as he left and shouted at his men to nail it shut. “I want a round the clock guard on this door,” he barked as he mounted his horse.

Now it was time to deal with Guy.

Chapter Thirty Three

Miles stood for a moment listening as the door was barricaded to prevent their escape and pondered on Gerard’s words. What was afoot?  Who could he trust? He turned to Grace, she had not been entirely truthful with him, but that didn’t mean he did not trust her.

The room was once again in darkness but for the weak moonlight filtering through the high window. They needed to light another torch.

“How are you?” he asked eventually and in the darkness Grace shrugged. “You were remarkably brave we would both be dead if it weren’t for that.”

“What did Gerard mean?” she asked.

Miles had no idea and was not inclined to discuss it. “We need some light, are you going to perform your little trick again?”

“It’s not a trick. Hold up the torch and I’ll show you,” replied Grace and she pulled the box of matches from her pocket. She struck the match and lit the torch. When there was sufficient light for him to see, she showed him what to do. “It’s simple, just like tinder really. Strike the coloured end of the match against the rough side of the box and hey presto...flames.”

Miles was intrigued and tried it repeatedly. “Don’t waste them,” said Grace as she made to take them back but he held them out of reach.

“Where did you get them?”

“I don’t remember. Keep them if you must, but don’t lose them, we may need them again.”

They sat amongst the bones with their backs against the wall and Miles put an arm loosely around Grace’s shoulder.

“Will John get help?” she asked.

“Eventually,” replied Miles, “but I imagine we are in for a long wait.”

Grace rifled in her pockets once more. “Here,” she said tearing a strip of chewing gum in two and offering him half, before popping the remainder in her mouth.

“What is it?”

Grace smiled. “Something to keep your breath sweet, just in case we get so bored down here that we end up snogging.”

Miles chewed and tasted mint. “Snogging?”

Grace reached up and kissed him.
“Snogging.”

“Okay, snogging’s good.”

Miles remained deep in thought; he couldn’t help but go over and over in his mind what Gerard had said. He trusted Hugh; he trusted all those around him. In fact as the only person he didn’t trust was Gerard, why did his words unsettle him so?

“Tell me about Hugh,” asked Grace. “Martha said he taught you how to be a knight.”

Miles smiled. “He taught me many things. He’s a good man, and you’ll like him. He’ll like you, in fact in some ways you are alike. He doesn’t always do the expected either.”

“He must be well respected if he’s close to the king.”

Miles considered. “That wasn’t always the case. In fact I was surprised when Alex told me he was. He’s always been a rebel, on the edge, an outsider but a marvellous soldier and tactician. He can see things from a different perspective, which is useful especially during conflict.”

“How long were you with him?”

“Almost ten years intermittently. He wasn’t always in Normandy when I was there, but he was, when I was younger. He’s an adventurer,
he’d disappear for months on end, turning up when you least expected him.”

“He looked after you when you were wounded by Guy?”

“Yes— fortunately. I don’t imagine I would have survived if it hadn’t been for his skill.” He smiled at her. “I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

“Will you ask him about what Gerard said?”

“If I need to.”

“I think Gerard is playing with you. He resents the fact you’re well liked and have people who support you of their own volition, not because they’re forced or scared of you. I think he fears your relationship with Hugh because he sees him as a powerful man who is close to the king and this is his attempt to undermine that relationship.”

“You’ve done a lot of thinking.”

Grace shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to look at situations as an outsider.”

“Do you think of yourself as an outsider?”

“I’ve known you for little more than a week, Miles. There are lots of things that I don’t know about your life and lots you don’t know about mine.”

“You seem to know ample about mine, courtesy of Martha,” replied Miles.

“She does like to
gossip.”Grace
smiled. “And Edmund talks a lot about you because he admires you.”

“But there’s no one to tell me about you, is there?” Miles stretched out his legs and Grace rested her head on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Miles. “We’re going to be here for some
time, perhaps you should tell me about your life.”

Grace settled herself against him. “I’ve already told you my parents were academics. They were killed when I was ten and I was brought up by my grandparents. When I was eighteen I went to university to study art and people reckon I’m pretty good at it.”

“University?”

She faltered and he watched as colour heightened her cheeks and a flicker of concern crossed her brow. She was hiding something, yet again, but it suited him to let her continue her tale. The truth would out eventually and currently he had not the energy, or will, for picking over the details.

“Um...a place
of  learning
...a school...a very big school.”

“You’re very skilled,” he said. He thought again of the lifelike images. They would surely condemn her in the bishop’s eyes, if Gerard succeeded in his quest for a trial.

“Skilled at what?”

“Painting...” He closed his eyes and let her words roll over him “Amongst other things.”

“Anyway, I got my degree in fine art and a man I knew got me involved in this business he ran. It didn’t work out so I came home. By then of course my grandparents had died, so the cottage was mine and that’s basically it. Not very exciting I’m afraid.”

Miles dragged his attention back. “What man?”

“He was
nobody,
I thought I could trust him.” She shrugged. “But sometimes people are just out for themselves and don’t care if they hurt other people in the process.”

“Did he hurt you?” Miles asked quietly.

“A little,” she replied.

“Where is he now?”

Grace smiled.
“Too far away for you to worry about.
I don’t need you to uphold my honour or anything like that, Miles. He was a selfish idiot, a liar and a cheat and he lost his business because of it.”