Secret Heart (44 page)

“
You
bathed, too,” she murmured, noticing his clean tunic and hose and
his damp hair.

“
I went
directly to the laundry. Lord Giles and I shared a soaking tub.
It’s a wonder the laundresses didn’t spread both of us on a bush to
dry.”

Jenia matched the laughter in his voice with
her own sleepy chuckle.

She knew when Roarke laid her gently into the
bed, and she heard servants moving about, scooping up the bath
water and tossing it out the window. She even heard Roarke latching
the door behind the servants as they departed with the empty tub.
But during all that time she existed in a dreamlike state, warm and
safe, and totally comfortable for the first time in days, for her
hands no longer pained her.

Then she felt Roarke next to her in the bed,
his skin warm against hers as he gathered her close, and she gave
herself up to his tender kiss just before she fell into a profound
sleep.

Jenia was in the great hall the next morning
when one of the squires came to her.

“
Lady
Jenia,” the squire said, “my name is Lasert. Lord Giles assigned me
to oversee the care of the prisoner who was discovered in the
dungeon a few days ago.”

“
Oh, yes.
So much has happened that I forgot all about him. How is he? And
who is he?”

“
He’s
recovering nicely, my lady. His name is Alric. He is one of the
kitchen workers who carries in the large platters at feasts, and he
has been asking for you. I promised I’d relay the message, though I
told him I wasn’t sure you’d see him.”

“
Of
course, I’ll see him.” It was properly Sanal’s duty to visit
servants who were ill or injured, but Sanal needed comforting
herself and was in no condition to comfort anyone else. “Where is
he?”

“
In the
servants’ quarters, my lady. Shall I go with you?”

“
Yes,
please, Lasert. Can you tell me anything more about him?” she asked
as they left the hall.

“
Only
that he was beaten before and after he was imprisoned on Walderon’s
orders. According to the other servants, he was in the dungeon for
almost three months. Not nearly so long as you, my
lady.”

“
When one
is locked into a tiny cell, time ceases to matter. Each day is an
eternity.”

“
I thank
the heavenly blue sky above that I know nothing about being
imprisoned,” Lasert responded, looking at her with great sympathy
on his youthful face. “Here we are, just down this short flight of
steps.”

The
former prisoner was sitting on a bench in the servants’ hall,
leaning his head back against the wall. He was a large man, with
pale hair going grey, and watery blue eyes. He appeared worn and
ill.

“
Don’t
bother to stand,” Jenia said, seeing him struggling to rise when
she approached. “Squire Lasert said you wanted to speak with
me.”

“
To thank
ye, mostly, my lady. I’ve been told ‘twas you who ordered me to be
well cared for after you and Sir Roarke found me. I’ll be ever
grateful to both of ye. I feared I’d die in that cell.”

“
Why were
you imprisoned, Alric?” Jenia sat beside him and signaled to Lasert
to remain with them. “What had you done to draw Walderon’s
notice?”

“
What I
shouldn’t have done, my lady,” Alric said. “Walderon disliked the
taste of a dish I presented to him one midday. In his anger he
struck me so hard that I dropped the platter. I made the mistake of
muttering a curse against him. I was whispering at the time,
scarcely making a sound at all, and I was down on my knees to clean
up the mess, but Walderon has ears like a demon of the darkest
forest and he heard what I said. So he ordered me beaten and
clapped into that dungeon cell without even a blanket to cover
myself at night. My joints are still aching from the cold and damp.
But at least I’m alive, and I’m warm now. I’ll be back to work
soon. I’ve no wish to be a burden, my lady.”

“
I’m
sorry you were treated so badly,” Jenia said, patting his arm as
she prepared to take her leave of him. “Thury will soon have a new
master, you know. I trust he will be a kinder lord than
Walderon.”

“
By
rights, Lady Chantal ought to be mistress here,” Alric said.
“That’s really why I wanted to talk to ye. The other servants have
been telling me the story of how ye and Lady Chantal were in the
same dungeon as me, at the same time I was there.”

“
Yes, we
were.” Jenia sat back on the bench. “Alric, do you know something
that I need to hear?”

“
Ye see,
my lady, a person who’s locked into a dungeon cell gets frightened.
Ye’ll know about that, I expect.”

“
Yes,
indeed,” Jenia said. “It’s terrifying, especially because no one
tells you what is happening.”

“
Just
so,” Alric agreed. “Well, being afraid as I was, I used to listen
at the grate in my cell door. Every time I heard footsteps, I’d
scurry to that door and put my ear to the grate, hoping to learn
what they were planning for me, so I could prepare myself to face
it.”

“
I
understand. I often did the same. So did Chantal.” Jenia spoke
softly, seeing the residual fear in Alric’s face and wanting to
encourage him. Lasert made an impatient gesture, but she shook her
head at him and turned back to the servant. “Alric, are you telling
me that you overheard something important while you listened at the
door?”

“
Aye, my
lady. Leastways, I think it could be important.”

“
What is
it?” Jenia asked in her kindest, gentlest voice.

“
One
night,” Alric said, “I heard screams from below. A little later I
heard two men talking on the steps. Then I heard Burke’s voice
saying it didn’t matter what anyone in my cell might hear, because
I’d never be released, so I couldn’t repeat the words to anyone who
mattered, and I’d likely forget what I’d heard, anyway, because I’m
just a stupid servant.

“
Well, my
lady, I’m a contrary man, ye see, especially when I’ve been
insulted, so I decided right then that I
would
remember what was said. I
repeated that conversation to myself over and over, so I’d not
forget it. And now it seems to me that telling ye what I heard is
the best way to repay ye for yer kindness in releasing me and
ordering that I be cared for.”

“
Telling
me would be a kindness, indeed,” Jenia said, fighting back a
growing excitement. “Alric, what did you hear that you thought was
important enough to remember?”

“
Speakin’
just outside my cell door, Burke said, ‘Bury her with the servants
and when the fellow in this cell dies, he can sleep on top of her
in the same grave, as if they were lovers.’ Then Burke and the man
with him laughed together and they went away, one tramping up the
steps and the other going down. Next I heard a scuffle and angry
voices and a door slamming, and then nothing more.”

“
Dear
heaven,” Jenia whispered. “That must have happened on the night
when Chantal died. The scuffle you heard would have been me,
struggling with Mott. The scream was mine, too, I’m sure. I
screamed at Mott to leave Chantal alone.”

“
I don’t
know no Mott,” Alric said.

“
Of
course, you don’t. He stayed hidden, so no one would recognize his
face. Alric, I cannot tell you how helpful you’ve been. Rest now
and get well. I promise, I will recommend you to the next lord of
Thury as an honest and faithful retainer.”

“
Thank
ye, my lady,” Alric exclaimed. “I’m just glad I could repay yer
kindness to me.”

Jenia
took her leave of him and hastened away from the servants’ quarters
before she could begin to weep.

“
My
lady,” Lasert said, catching up with her, “Does Alric’s story mean
what I think it does? Lady Chantal is buried—”

“
In the
servants’ graveyard,” Jenia finished for him. “Find Lord Garit and
Sir Roarke and ask them to join me in the solar as soon as
possible.”

“
Dear
heaven!” Sanal exclaimed. She was in the solar when Jenia arrived
there and Jenia had asked her to stay and listen to the tale Alric
had told, in hope that her aunt might be able to supply additional
details.

“
Do you
know something?” Jenia asked, too impatiently and too loudly.
Inwardly she sighed, wishing that she wouldn’t have to pry answers
out of Sanal as she’d had to do with Alric. But then, the two were
not so different; Alric terrified after beatings and an unjust
imprisonment, Sanal reacting like a frighten rabbit after years of
marriage to Walderon. Watching the unhappy emotions chasing across
Sanal’s face, Jenia silently cursed Walderon for all the evil he
had wrought. She made herself speak to her aunt as quietly and
calmly as she’d done with Alric, and she took one of Sanal’s hands
in hers. “I will be most grateful if you can help me complete this
last part of my quest.”

“
Quest?”
Sanal’s wide grey eyes met Jenia’s gaze.

“
I swore
a solemn vow to see Chantal’s murderer brought to justice, and then
to find her body and see her properly buried.”

“
Of
course.” Sanal pressed Jenia’s fingers. “You could do no less. Let
me think, now. From what you’ve told me, Chantal has been dead for
not quite two months.”

“
That’s
true, though it seems much longer to me,” Jenia said. Behind her,
she heard Garit shift position impatiently, his boots shuffling on
the solar floor, but he wisely held his tongue and left the
questioning to her. “Aunt, can you tell me anything that might be
helpful?”

“
I know
of no servant who has died within the last two months,” Sanal said.
“So, if Chantal really was buried in the servants’ graveyard as
Alric has claimed, then you will find her in the most recently dug
grave. I’ll warrant there’s no marker on the spot. Walderon will
certainly want the location forgotten as soon as possible, so you
will have to look a bit to find it.”

“
Thank
you, aunt.” Jenia hugged Sanal.

“
I’ll see
to it,” Garit declared in a tone that allowed no dissent. He headed
for the solar stairs, bellowing orders to his squire as he went.
“Anders! Find two shovels and two pairs of old gloves and meet me
in the outer bailey. We have digging to do.”

“
Wait.”
Jenia moved to face him before he could leave the solar. “I will go
with you.”

“
No,”
Roarke said. “My dear, she has been buried for too long. You don’t
want to see what she has become.”

“
I must,”
Jenia told him, whirling away from him before Roarke could catch
her arm to stop her. “I saw her last; I will identify her, so there
can be no doubt.”

“
I wish
you would not,” Roarke persisted, though in a way that told Jenia
he knew his protest was useless.

“
If you
want to help,” she said, “then speak to the castle mage and tell
him to order the crypt prepared. There’s an empty tomb down there
that was originally intended for Chantal’s father. But he was
buried in a simple grave near the battlefield where he fell –
buried there on Walderon’s orders, may I add. Let Chantal lie next
to her mother.”

“
Aye,”
Garit said, nodding his approval. “That makes good sense. We don’t
want to delay reburial for more than a few hours at
most.”

“
Lord
Garit, your words have just suggested to me something useful that I
can do,” Sanal said. “I will go to the stillroom and find
fumigating herbs. We are going to need them.”

Jenia and Garit encountered no difficulty in
locating the grave they sought.

“
All of
the other graves have grass growing on them,” Garit said, “so this
little mound must be the place. Jenia, are you certain you want to
be here?”

“
Yes,”
she replied firmly, though she was quaking inside. “I owe this much
to Chantal.”

Garit and Anders began to dig, working
carefully. They were surprisingly deep before they uncovered an
object that was enfolded in a coarse, brown cloth. Tossing aside
their shovels, the men began to dig with their gloved hands, gently
removing the dirt until it became clear that they had found a body.
This they lifted out of the hole and laid on the ground. After
removing his gloves, Garit knelt to turn back the portion of the
cloth covering the face.

Then Jenia was on her knees next to Garit.
Anders joined them, all three of them weeping.

Jenia had
feared Chantal’s face would be so ruined that she wouldn’t be able
to say with certainty whether or not this was her cousin’s body.
Mercifully, Chantal looked to be asleep, with her eyelids closed
and her expression serene. She was pale as white marble and her
eyes and cheeks were sunken, but she was not terrible to look
upon.

“
Chantal,” Garit whispered, and lightly stroked his love’s
face and her thick, red-brown hair. He bent his head on a
sob.

“
Yes, it
is. Beyond any question or doubt, that is Chantal.” Jenia put an
arm across Garit’s shoulders and leaned against him.

“
She’s
perfectly preserved,” Anders whispered in unconcealed awe, “Like an
ancient statue.”

“
Oh,
Chantal was no statue,” Jenia responded with a choked laugh. “As a
little girl, she was naughty and mischievous, and when she grew up
she was determined to follow her own path, to make her own choices.
But she was ever sweet and generous of heart.”