Claire Delacroix (23 page)

My pride stumbled over the fact that Merlyn had been as close as this to Kinfairlie, repeatedly, and he had not sought me out until now. These tidings fed my annoyance with Merlyn and his secrets.

That annoyance did not, however, aid me in discovering all of what Ada knew. I prepared to grant Ada a hearty prod.

“You are right in one matter,” I said, my tone mild. “For no man intends to die before his dotage, nor indeed do most choose the day. But beyond that, I think that you are wrong. Merlyn would see nothing writ which he did not mean and in fact, he came to see me on the day before he died...”

“He did not!”

“He most certainly did. Ask any soul in Kinfairlie.”

She turned to the meat, her determined expression revealing her intent to do just that.

I continued merrily upon my course of lies. “He tried to persuade me to return here, to live as his wife once again. I cannot imagine why he delayed in making such an argument, but it is clear that our marriage was of great import to him....”

“He never wished to have you return!” Ada cried. “He was glad to be rid of you! He was glad to have matters resolved so easily.”

I shook my head, leaving silence for her to fill.

Ada fumed. “He was tricked, plain and simple, he was tricked into making his will thus, tricked by that cursed Rhys Fitzwilliam who always showed an unholy favor for you. My lord Merlyn was tricked as he lay dying and had not the strength to know what he did.”

“We embraced warmly when he came to me again. His will merely reflects his intent.” I sat down and wiped an invisible tear. “How sad that he was beset by bandits just when he rode to join me abed. How sad that we came so close to living happily together once again.”

Ada abandoned the meat in her fury and strode toward me. “You lie! He did not come to you that night!”

I widened my eyes all innocence. “Where did he go?”

“He had a missive to deliver, and it was not to you.”

“To who?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, her expression turning sly. “You are trying to trick me. You would have me reveal that I know too much of my lord’s affairs, so that you might accuse me of indiscretion.”

I shook my head. “No, Ada. I would know who killed Merlyn.”

She retreated a step. “Why?”

“That justice might be served.”

Ada rolled her eyes. “That you might charge me with slandering my betters. I will not aid you in this endeavor.”

Her betters? Did she know about the summons from the earl?

I waited, without success. Ada eyed the meat, clicking her tongue when she saw that her inattention had allowed one side to burn. She cursed softly and cut the burned bit away, letting it fall into the fire. She did a credible job of pretending that I was no longer there.

“I would see Merlyn’s murderer brought to justice, Ada. I would see Merlyn avenged.”

“It will never be done.”

“Why? Is the man responsible of too lofty a station?”

She smiled at me over her shoulder, but her gaze was knowing. “How am I to know? There were no witnesses of this crime, from what I am told.”

Her coy manner infuriated me as nothing else could have done. “You served Merlyn for years and his father before that! How can you care so little that his murderer walks free?” I shoved to my feet. “Or are you a part of this, Ada? Have you seen compense from whosoever stalks the Lammergeier? Have you gained from Merlyn’s death?

“How dare you charge me with gain, when you have claimed this very keep!” She spun to face me, her eyes burning with a fury that made me step back. “And for what? You rolled to your back for a fortnight, while I, I have labored for seven years for mere suzerainty over Ravensmuir’s kitchens -- and even that, you may steal from me!”

She advanced upon me, shaking a finger as I stood, astonished. “Understand this, my fine lady. My debt to the Lammergeier has been rendered in full. It is their debt to me that is yet outstanding. I owe them nothing, nothing at all, and I owe you even less.”

I was confused. “But what do they owe you?”

Ada smiled as she composed herself anew. “You might know the answer afore you die, Ysabella of Kinfairlie.”

“What is that to mean? You speak in riddles.”

“My lord Merlyn is dead because his quest failed.” Ada’s eyes gleamed. “Because the quest failed, some thwarted soul will come to collect his or her due, just as that same soul came a few nights past to collect that due from my lord Merlyn. But you, you will not be able to surrender what is desired of you - and I shall tell you nothing that might grant you any such chance.” Her tone turned mocking. “I shall dance when you share my lord Merlyn’s fate. Upon that, my lady, you may rely.” She whistled as she tended her meat.

It took me a few moment to summon words to my lips. “You have always hated us, Ada.”

She snorted. “What fondness could I have for a family of harlots such as yours?”

“We are not...”

“You most certainly are harlots and every soul in the village of Kinfairlie knew it. Did your mother not earn her keep upon her back?”

I stood, my arms folded across my chest, knowing that a furious outburst would gain me nothing. All the same, Ada insulted my own mother. “My mother used her wits and her gifts to see us fed.”

Ada chortled. “That is one way of telling the tale. Oh, it was known where a boy might go to learn amorous arts before his wedding night.”

“You lie!”

“You are your mother’s daughter, of that there can be no mistake.” Ada scoffed at me. “And such a fine prize you have won for surrendering your charms, no less than Ravensmuir itself. Your slatternly mother would be proud.”

I lost my temper with her at that. “Which is the deeper wound, Ada?” I demanded. “Which was the wound that fed your hatred? Alasdair or Ravensmuir?”

Ada slapped me at that. My head snapped to one side with the vigor of her strike. The air crackled in the kitchen, but I did not care. What had so long been hidden was finally driven into the open and I was glad of it.

“Alasdair was mine!” she cried. “But your whorish sister stole him from me!”

“Alasdair never looked twice at you,” I insisted, for this was the ugly truth of it. “But one glimpse of Mavella and he was hers forever.”

“Sorcery!” Ada hissed.

“Love!”

She struck me again, then kicked my legs out from beneath me. She was stronger than I had anticipated, but I snatched at her and hauled her to the floor with me. She was wiry despite her smaller stature and angry enough for two. We rolled across the flagstones, pulling hair, slapping cheeks, jabbing elbows into ribs, until she shoved me hard against the wall. The breath went out of me for a moment, and Ada shoved to her feet, panting as she stared down at me, her garb in disarray.

“There is no such thing as love, Ysabella. There is only advantage well-played and fortune well-secured.” She spat into the rushes spread on the floor. “You, spawn of a whore and a man with no name, should understand as much.” Ada pushed up her sleeves and walked back to the fireplace.

I rose to my feet and adjusted my kirtle. “Only witchery could have made Alasdair spurn Mavella as he did.”

She turned to look at me, surprised by my words. “No, you have the wrong end of the stick. It was sorcery that drew his ardent eye from me. He spurned your sister because he was shaken free of her wicked spell.”

“If that were so, Ada, then why did Alasdair never wed you?”

She granted me such a poisonous glance that I thought she would strike me again. “Perhaps I no longer wanted him.”

“Because a life of servitude tempted you so?” I shook my head as she bristled. “I think not.”

We eyed each other with undisguised animosity.

I knew I would have no more confessions from her on this day and my blood simmered so that I did not care. I left the kitchen, wanting only to be away from her presence. I was upset, snared in dark memories and angered anew by what had passed before. I needed to feel the wind from the sea upon my face, clear my thoughts, and name Merlyn’s assailant.

* * *

You are surprised by such hostility? I cannot imagine why - you would not if you knew all of the tale. Ada had coldly contrived for my sister to lose her love and had no remorse for her deeds, even less for the pain she had caused. Whatever Ada held against me was nothing compared to that initial crime.

Even in the bracing air of the morning, I could see Mavella’s stricken face once again. I saw again the light leaving her eyes as her beloved Alasdair deliberately turned his back upon her before all of Kinfairlie. She had never been the same - and it was Ada’s fault. The past clung to me like cobwebs, keeping me from the riddle I had to solve for Tynan’s sake.

I turned away from the sound of chopping wood, not being anxious to meet Arnulf - and strode toward the sparkling sea. The sky was clear on this day, the wind cold.

The empty horizon disheartened me in that moment. It seemed that I could not succeed in this endeavor, not with so few answers and so many questions. Who sent the summons to Merlyn? It might have been the earl and it might not have been. There were probably fifty noblemen within a day’s ride of Ravensmuir who might have afforded Avery’s relics, most of whom were secure enough to have held their title five years before.

I recalled Ada’s veiled reference, though she too yielded little solid. She might have meant a spiritual better, a monk or hermit or nun or bishop, or a nobleman. I heaved a sigh, knowing there was a vast nunnery at North Berwick and two or three monasteries close at hand. Who knew how many other solitaries and priests dotted the countryside?

And even if I began to speak to all of them, I would not know what to ask them. My determination faltered before such obstacles, and my gaze fell upon the crumbling chapel, isolated upon the tiny jutting point.

Perhaps it was time I sought greater assistance - or at least renewed strength - in my seemingly impossible task. Perhaps it was time that those at Ravensmuir attempted to solicit divine favor.

Indeed, our fortunes could not be worse.

* * *

I set out at a brisk pace for the chapel. I did not progress far, however, for my course was obstructed by the thicket of gorse and blackberry that had not been challenged or broken in years. I was not surprised at this measure of the Lammergeier family’s faith, no less that of Ada and Arnulf.

On another day, I might have turned back, but I was restless, burdened by the impotence of my situation and in dire need of some useful labor to perform. I had no desire to meet my sister in such a mood, for I might tell her more than I should.

I returned to the keep and fetched a scythe, then set to clearing a path. I am strong, but it was heavy work.

The thorns tore at my hands and my clothing, my old kirtle became more disreputable in appearance with every step. The sun shone hot upon my back as it climbed higher in the sky and strands of my hair escaped my braid, then stuck in the sweat upon my brow.

I savored the ache in my muscles, though. It was good to engage in such simple labor as this, hard work which gave visible results. My goal was not the slippery mire of Merlyn’s secrets and mysteries, but the measurable clearing of this gorse. Birds called to each other in the distance, I could hear the crash of the sea just beyond the chapel, the fall of Arnulf’s axe fell with regularity far behind me. I could have been far from Ravensmuir; I could have been alone.

I could have been without worries, without scars. My life could have been simple.

Once my rhythm was found, I could have continued forever, though eventually I reached the end of the thicket. I straightened, stretched my back and looked back over what I had done.

A wide straight path now was hacked through the growth. I had aimed to make it at least two strides in width and had sheared it close to the earth, so that the brambles could not reclaim it so quickly as that. In some places it was wider, in others less so, depending upon the power of my swing and the stoutness of the plants that had stood in my way.

I put down the scythe and wiped my hands upon my skirts. The chapel was larger than I had ever thought it to be. It was a rectangular structure, wrought of stone, with only high tiny windows. They had no glass in them, which hinted at the age of the structure, and the tower at the east end was squat and square. The stones were adorned with moss on their north side.

Some kind of low-growing plant flourished around the chapel, so the chapel appeared to stand in a green clearing. Perhaps the point had once been completely covered in this pleasing growth, for I could see evidence of it beneath the closest brambles.

The sea splashed high here and as I made a circuit of the chapel, the spray landed upon my heated flesh. The wind was cooler and I lifted my braid off my neck to feel its welcome caress. The sea sparkled and danced as far as the horizon, to which I looked again for some hint of Merlyn’s ship.

Of course, there was none.

I walked around the chapel again, confirming that there was no other path from the keep. Outside of the rampant brambles, there was only the scrabble of rock and coast.

I made to step upon a stone, to test the chances of making one’s way around the gorse, and it immediately loosed itself, then three of its neighbors. I stepped back, watching as the stones tumbled and crashed down the steep coast, then splashed into the ocean. That way would not be passable, for the risk of falling was too high for a person of sense.

I felt that sense of being watched again, and spared a glance to Ravensmuir, golden and benign in the sunlight. Did anyone observe me from a high window there? Certainly, there was no one within sight.

I shook off my trepidation and returned to the narrow pair of chapel doors. Together they made a pointed arch, though they fit poorly together and there was only a vestige of ochre paint left upon them.

The hinges groaned as I opened the door. I peered into the shadows within, blinking after the brilliance of the light upon the sea. Several spears of sunlight fell through the dilapidated roof and dust motes danced within them. It seemed an abandoned place, an impression only heightened when a dozen pigeons stirred at the sound of me and flew through a hole in the wooden roof.