Autumn Lord (10 page)

reasons. It was a way of seemingly showing he trusted this pair that had once been so close to Denis.

Simon said it was easy enough to trust the Turpeneys when he never planned to be more than a day's

ride away from Marbeau, and Jacques himself actually remained in charge of the castle, the more trusted

of the guards knew it, even if Thierry did not.

He held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture just the same. "I meant to say that Lady Alys may head

Simon's household, but it is the custom for the wizard of Marbeau to offer the baron's hospitality to his

personal guests— whether they be low or high born." Jacques looked toward the man seated at the far

end of the table. "Is that not so, Father Andre?"

The priest looked past the rim of the large winecup he held. His voice was barely audible when he

replied, "That is so, I believe. Or so I've heard. I don't recall—"

"There, you see? The priest confirms that I have a right to have Diane by my side."

"Lord Simon would approve?" Thierry questioned. "Having the foreigner at the high table is no stain

on the honor of Marbeau?"

"None whatsoever."

The young knight seemed willing enough to be mollified. In fact, as he looked Diane over carefully he

showed an interest Jacques did not like. The young woman was quietly eating her meal, her face turned

away from the conversation. It looked to Jacques that Thierry was aware of the elegance of her

high-cheekboned profile.

"What of my honor?"

"Oh, leave be, Alys. There's no harm in this."

Jacques should have been pleased when Thierry spoke to his sister, but the smirk on the man's face

did not reassure him.

Alys slapped her hand on the polished wood tabletop. "I don't want her here. She's ugly and vile. The

sight of her spoils my meal."

"Do you fear her, then?"

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to risk a confrontation by bringing Diane down to dinner while Simon

was away, Jacques thought. Alys seemed to feel threatened by the storyteller. He wasn't about to do

anything to mollify her fears. But then, she was well aware that Jacques wanted her out of Simon's bed,

and someone who'd care for the man in it. Alys was no doubt quite concerned that Simon hadn't showed

any interest in her since the night of Diane's arrival.

Diane tried not to listen to the conversation, but was aware of every word. As she listened she began

to wonder just why she liked Jacques. The man was obviously using her as a pawn in some game he was

playing with this pair. She'd like to think he was the good guy, but she didn't like being used. Especially

when she didn't know what the game was.

If there had to be games, she thought, it would be nice if they'd let her play. If somebody would just

explain the rules, she'd be happy to choose a side and start kicking the opposing players around. Better

to play than try to stay neutral, she thought. Better to play than to be the playing piece.

The conversation went on and on while Diane methodically ate around the rim of her flat bread.

Nobody bothered to even speak to her even though they felt perfectly comfortable talking about her.

After awhile she stopped feeling insulted. She even stopped being annoyed. She started to get bored.

When she was finished with as much of the meal as she could stand to eat, she got up from her seat and

went to stand at the foot of the dais.

This time she didn't mind that the attention of everybody in the room immediately riveted on her. She

was sick of a lot of the things she'd heard and felt. She was really sick of this foreign demon nonsense.

She wanted to tell them that foreign devil was how her grandparents' people referred to Europeans when

they first encountered them. While she wasn't sure where she was, this place had a distinctly European

flavor to it. Actually,
stench
was a better word than flavor. This place made her ashamed that she'd once

been so proud to be half Scottish.

Since all she could do was tell stories instead of explain what she thought and felt, she would give them

a story from the Asian side of her ancestry. Actually, the story she decided on was Japanese because the

world's best samurai movie was the only thing she could think of that these warrior barbarians could

relate to.

"Once upon a time there was a poor village that was under constant attack by robbers. The harvest

was stolen and burned. The villagers had nothing to eat. They were hungry. They had nothing. No knights

to protect them. When the villagers held a meeting, someone suggested asking knights to drive off the

robbers. The villagers were unsure of this plan. How could they—poor, hungry, unworthy farmers—p

ersuade men of the proud warrior class to help them? How? Find hungry samurai—or knights—the wise

village elder advised."

As she continued telling the story, she watched her audience carefully. Jacques sat back with his hands

folded over his stomach and smiled encouragement at her. The plot of
The Seven Samurai
got mixed

reactions from the rest of the group. Everyone seemed to like the part about the girl disguised as a boy

who had a romance with the youngest samurai. They laughed when it turned out that the supposedly

completely destitute villagers were able to scrape together enough supplies for a party. There was a

disappointed reaction from the women and servants when Toshiro Mifune's peasant pretending to be

samurai character got killed. All in all it went pretty well, but she wondered why Sir Thierry was frowning

angrily at her when she was finished.

He banged a fist on the table when she was done. "How dare a peasant pretend to be a knight?" He

glared at her. "I should slit your throat for the insult, girl."

"Yes," Alys suggested smoothly. "Why don't you?"

Diane had no idea what the man was angry about. She looked to Jacques for help.

"The impostor died in the end, Thierry," Jacques pointed out to the angry man. "As he deserved."

"But they buried him as a knight!"

So?
Diane thought.
What's the problem?

"The peasant dog deserved to be thrown on the dung heap!" Thierry insisted.

"It's disgraceful," Alys added. "The storyteller should be punished for such a wicked tale."

Diane decided she'd had enough of this weird place and nasty people for one evening. They didn't get

it, she couldn't explain it, and she didn't care. She made a gesture at Thierry that she hoped he wouldn't

interpret as a polite farewell, and turned around and left the hall.

Jacques closed the door
quietly behind him and leaned against the thick, old wood. When

Diane looked up from where she sat on the bed, he said, "I'm not sure if the evening was a success or

not."

She smiled, then the smile eased into a silent laugh.

"I'm glad to see you enjoyed yourself, my dear," he told her. He came to sit beside her. "Alys insists

on drama, and her brother's not much better." He patted her knee. "Everyone else enjoyed your story.

You keep telling stories and soon the people of Marbeau will love you."

Her expression told him that she wasn't interested in having the people love her.

He patted her knee again. "There, there. Have they hurt you that much with their ignorant insults, my

dear? Or is it just Simon you want to love you?" he asked, then cackled with laughter at her outraged

reaction.

She shook her head and assumed an air of indifferent dignity. Jacques let the subject go. He crossed

the room and picked up a papyrus scroll from his work table. He sat down in his chair by the lit brazier,

to warm his old bones and for light to read the difficult-to-decipher Egyptian characters. It was up to

Simon and Diane to find comfort with each other.

Diane watched the old man for a while. Despite the age difference, and the strange circumstances, he

reminded her of her father in the way he just disappeared into whatever he was reading. The problem

was, he didn't physically disappear. She had to go to the bathroom really bad, and hated having to use

the wooden bucket provided for the sanitation purposes unless she was alone. She didn't like using it

then, but at least it wasn't quite as humiliating in private. With Jacques present, she had to consider the

alternative, which was maybe worse. It was bug-infested and stank, but at least offered privacy. This

indoor outhouse called a garderobe was on the second floor, down a dark, narrow hall near Simon's

chamber. She supposed she would have to go there if she wanted privacy. So, she picked up a candle

and reluctantly headed for the stairs.

I really really hate this place, Diane thought, certainly not for the first time, as she adjusted the clothing

she'd worn for the last several days after she'd finished in the garderobe. She wondered why she'd taken

her comfortable life at home for granted. Plumbing really was a big deal when you didn't have any. Toilet

paper was the most important invention in the history of the universe. After that, came toothpaste.

Toothpaste was as precious as gold. After she'd pantomimed brushing her teeth about a dozen times and

Jacques finally figured out what she meant, he'd given her a piece of cloth to rub her teeth with and some

bark to chew on. It worked, but it wasn't toothpaste.

And there was no use complaining about the situation when she was the only one who knew what was

on her mind. If she ever got her voice back—
watch out for that day, Simon de Argent,
she thought as

she pushed open the door of the garderobe with her free hand.

She was plunged into darkness a moment later as the candle was knocked from her hand. She was

pushed roughly back against the wall as someone said, "Don't worry about her screaming."

Alys.

Fear raced through Diane. She struggled, but she wasn't being held by the other woman. She was

shaken, then slapped hard across the face. Her senses reeled as the back of her head hit the wall. Then

she was pulled forward and a mouth came down on hers in a hard, cruel kiss. She pushed ineffectually

against the man's chest, but he only pulled away to laugh. He grabbed her by the hair and pushed her

back against the wall again. He held her there with one hand pressed hard against her throat. Her lips

hurt, her head hurt, she could hardly breathe. She struck out blindly, but was unable to touch either of the

two figures that had her trapped in the dark corridor,

"Talk of the curse must be true, then," the man said. "Qr she'd have made some noise by now."

Thierry.

"Take her to Simon's room," Alys said. "Have her on his bed, the way Berengar had Lady

Genevieve."

"Remind the man of being a cuckold? Not I, sister. I said I'd help you. I didn't say I wanted to die."

"Then why don't you just kill the foreigner?"

Diane was pulled forward. Thierry twisted her arms behind her, holding her easily in a one-handed

grip. He used his other hand to roughly caress her breasts. She kicked back at his shin, but he took no

notice of her struggles.

"I'm not killing Jacques's pet for you," Thierry told his sister. "My plan's better. I'll have this one

broken to my bed by the time your lover returns. He'll lose any interest he might have in her once he sees

what an obedient and loving mistress she makes me."

Alys laughed. "You're right. Once he sees her with you, he'll recall that I'm as loyal and loving a

woman as he's likely to find in this life."

"A short life, I pray."

"Amen," Alys answered him.

Diane kept trying to twist away, kept trying to kick the bastard, but it did her no good. Thierry's hands

didn't stop roving over her body the whole time he and Alys discussed her. She bit down on chain mail

when she tried to bite his arm. He laughed at her.

Diane hoped someone would come along the corridor and find them. She prayed someone would help

her. That someone would stop this. That she'd find a way to escape. But Thierry had a grip like steel.

And, she remembered bleakly, he was in charge of the castle while Simon was gone.

Simon,
she found herself praying.
Please, God, Simon where are you?

"I want privacy," Thierry said. "A few hours alone with the bitch before I take her to my pallet in the

hall."

"I told you to use Simon's room."

"I told you no."

"The solar, then. I'll keep the women in the hall until you're done."

"Good enough."

Thierry spun Diane around and hauled her over his shoulder. She shouted silently for Simon as Thierry

carried her away.

******************

one who seemed to notice. His men spread out across the room, to the fire and to the tables that hadn't

yet been broken down from the evening meal, calling for meat and drink. The people in the hall lingered