Elaine Barbieri (19 page)

De Silva forced a smile and replied, “As you wish, my dear…for the time being, anyway. At any rate, I will leave you now so I may prepare a missive to William
announcing our troth. The dressmakers will arrive soon to prepare your gown for the ceremony. Hadley needs you here, and I know you will not stray far.”

Rosamund responded tightly, “Nay, I will not stray.”

Appearing unable to conceal his smile, de Silva turned and walked back in the direction of the keep. He was out of earshot when Hadley said, “What happened, Rosamund? Why did you consent to this?”

“Dagan.”

Stunned, Hadley took a backward step. “Dagan disappeared shortly before you did. Where is he now?”

“Dagan is a prisoner in the dungeon and the baron holds the key to his survival.” Rosamund took a breath and then said flatly, “Dagan is Norman, Father. He is one of William’s knights and was active in his victory here. William sent him to investigate rumors about de Silva’s spurious activities, but thieves robbed him and left him for dead. That is why he came here in a commoner’s garb.”

Hadley nodded. “I feared something like that was true.” At Rosamund’s surprise, he continued, “Dagan’s stature, his silent endurance, and the intelligence he exhibited—all made me suspect that he was not what he seemed. The loyal war horse only added to my suspicion.”

“Yet you said nothing.”

“He was helpless while you tended to his wounds, and you were so concerned about his welfare. In any case, my suspicions were allayed when he chose to labor as if he were a common man. Yet his protective attitude toward you in the face of de Silva’s arrogance led me to observe him rather than accuse him.”

“You did not tell me of your suspicions, although you knew I believed him an innocent victim of circumstance and never questioned his allegiance.”

“I knew you were blinded by emotion.”

“So…so you know…”

“That you love Dagan? Yea, I know. I also knew when Dagan kept our secret that whoever he was, he loved you, too.”

A tear slid from the corner of Rosamund’s eye. “So you know I must wed the baron or he will act against Dagan.”

“I know only that you must temporarily agree to all the baron says.”

“The baron took me down to the cell where Dagan is chained hand and foot. No one can survive there, Father! Dagan told me not to fear because he would escape, but in my heart I know that any attempt he might make is doomed to failure. Meanwhile, the jailors slaver at the thought of the torture they could inflict on him. They only await the baron’s word. If I do not agree to his demands, the baron will arrange for Dagan to die slowly there. I have thought of carrying my tale to William himself, but I know what the outcome would be. If I were even granted an opportunity to speak to him, William would never believe me—a Saxon whose father was killed in the attack he ordered—as opposed to a knight who has fought loyally for him. It would not matter how many rumors abound about the baron; without verification from one William trusts, the rumors mean nothing. The baron would see to it that Dagan simply disappeared, which would not be inconceivable in a forest filled with hungry, angry men.”

“Do not allow yourself to panic, Rosamund.”

“Panic? I had hoped to gain more time by announcing my true status to the baron and declaring that he could claim acceptance if we were wed legally in the eyes of the shire—but gain time to do what? The bitter truth is that I would rather die than allow the baron to touch me.”

“Do not speak such words! You can leave. Dagan would gladly sacrifice his life if it meant your freedom.”

“But I do not want him to sacrifice his life for me!”

“Rosamund…”

“I tell you now, Father…I would rather die.”

“Oh, you come here to celebrate with us, I suppose.” Edythe’s sagging face wrinkled in a smile as Hyacinthe entered the kitchen. She eyed Hyacinthe’s swollen face and commented, “I see that you have already registered your objection to the baron’s plans.”

“The baron has nothing to do with these bruises. I fell on the steps when I came down from his quarters.”

“Yea…you fell.”

Refusing to react to Edythe’s comment, and aware that Winifred and several of the younger kitchen helpers kept on with their chores while watching her covertly, Hyacinthe asked, “What do you celebrate?”

“The baron’s intended nuptials, of course.”

Hyacinthe gasped. Aware that both women watched her closely, she strained for composure as she asked, “What is the name of the woman he is to wed?”

“You do not know? You met her when you went upstairs. Am I to believe that the baron did not inform you of Ross’s deceit?”

“Deceit?” Losing patience with Edythe, Hyacinthe demanded, “Out with it, woman, unless you want me to beat it out of you!”

“Do not threaten me, whore! You no longer have the weight of the baron’s favor on your side. He is to wed Rosamund Wedge…
Ross
as she was previously known.”

Hyacinthe shook her head, incredulous, as she asked, “You are saying…”

“I am saying that Ross’s name is really Rosamund, and that she is a woman who hid her identity because she has proof that she is the true heir to the land that William awarded to the baron for his victory.”

“She is a woman?”

“Are you not listening? She is not
a
woman. She is
the
woman who is key to the baron’s acceptance here, to the possible forgiveness of all his former ills, and to his possible admission to a place at William’s court…perhaps even to a place at William’s side.”

“Nay…”

“It will do you no good to attempt to deny the truth.”

“I do not believe you! How do you know all this?”

“I have big ears and I listen well.”

“You have always had
big ears
, but they have not done you any good in the past.”

“I also have a steady hand at the cookstove.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that the baron depends on me to provide food for those in the dungeons below.”

Uncertain of Edythe’s meaning, Hyacinthe did not respond.

Obviously regretting her outburst, Edythe turned back toward the table in front of her and said abruptly, “I have said enough. I will say no more.”

“Speak, woman!”

Grasping a knife, Edythe turned toward Hyacinthe and said hoarsely, “I told you that I will say no more, do you understand? Get back to work and ask no more questions or I will see to it that the baron sends you away for good.”

Hyacinthe did not bother to respond. Instead, she took up the basket in the corner of the kitchen and strode out to the woodpile to fill it. She smiled bitterly as she stepped out of sight. It was not necessary for Edythe to say more. Guilbert had decided to marry a Saxon wench. She obviously would not have consented if the baron had pressured her in some way.

Hyacinthe reached the woodpile and began filling the basket. Yea, Edythe, hotheaded fool that she was, had said enough. The answer to all her questions lay in the dungeon below the keep….

At the sound of voices, Dagan looked up and then struggled to move closer to the door of his filthy cell so he might hear the conversation. Restrained by the chains that bound him, he strove to hear the feminine voice that replied coyly to the slurred tones of his jailor, who seemed only too eager to begin the same treatment that all previous inhabitants of his cell had suffered. He knew only one thing held the jailor back—de Silva’s orders—and he relied on the frustration that order caused him. He hoped that under the present circumstances, with resentment burgeoning, his jailor would
not be thinking clearly. He knew that contacting Rosamund was impossible since de Silva’s guards would undoubtedly be watching her closely, but he hoped to find a way to convince the dim-witted jailor to approach Hadley with the message that Dagan wanted to speak with him.

Dagan could only hope that the jailor would fall in with his plans for one reason or another, but that portion of his plan remained uncertain. He was sure, however, that Hadley would respond to his summons. He believed Hadley had suspected he was not what he had claimed to be from the first day he arrived, and he was prepared to convince the man to help him by telling him that he loved Rosamund, that his greatest wish was to see that the promise she saw for their people’s future was realized under William’s rule. The Saxons would be oppressed no longer, but would regain their pride under the man he considered the true heir to the throne. Dagan believed that Hadley knew as well as he that de Silva had no integrity, that marriage to Rosamund would negate any promises made to her. Once they were legally bound, Rosamund’s sacrifice would be for naught.

What ever Hadley’s response, he could not allow that to happen.

The purring conversation in the corridor halted abruptly at the unexpected turning of his lock and the entrance of a female figure into his cell.

“Do not worry. The prisoner is chained. He cannot advance any farther than a few feet from the wall.”

“That is good,” the woman responded. “My desire
to see the object of the baron’s animosity is overwhelming. I believe it will bring me pleasure as well, since I am a Norman.”

“Yea…a beautiful Norman.”

The jailor’s voice revealed his intoxication with the woman’s wiles. Turning toward the man with a sultry gaze, the woman caressed his cheek before saying, “You will leave us alone, won’t you, so I may get my fill of the pleasure the prisoner gives me?”

“Yea…I will do that.”

“You will not listen, will you? There are some things I would not have anyone know about my visit here.”

“Anything for you, Hyacinthe.”

Hyacinthe.

Dagan frowned, remembering the servant who had followed de Silva from Normandy. Yea, he had seen her before, but he had not recognized her immediately with her face grossly swollen as it was. He wondered at the jailor’s bemusement, and then realized that she was nevertheless beautiful to him.

The door closed behind Hyacinthe, and Dagan kept his silence as she listened to the jailor’s departing footsteps, making certain that the fellow had left the corridor before advancing toward him to say, “So you are the reason why Rosamund agreed to marry the baron!”

Dagan replied coldly, “And you are his lover.”

“His
former
lover. My face bear the marks of the baron’s displeasure.”

“Is that why you come?” Irritated by the woman’s appearance, confused by her dedication to a man who
had so little to offer her, he asked tightly, “Do you come to indulge dreams of vengeance against the man who struck you, or do you come to share the baron’s delight at seeing me so confined?”

“I come with the former desire in mind.”

“Are you sure you are not here to enjoy the supposed agony of one of William’s knights at the hand of the baron?”

Momentarily silent, Hyacinthe responded incredulously, “You are one of William’s knights?”

“Do you doubt my word?”

“Nay.” Hyacinthe shook her head. “It is suddenly clear to me why you are so confined, and why the baron is so anxious for William to see him married to a Saxon heiress.”

“De Silva is a traitor who is not worthy of William’s regard! Neither is he worthy of knighthood, despite his former campaigns in William’s name, and he knows I would tell William that truth if I escaped this place.”

“The campaigns that the baron conducted over the years were in his own name, not in William’s,” Hyacinthe stated boldly. “I know. I listened to the baron’s railing against William after each successive return to Normandy from William’s incursions. The baron did not believe in William. He believed him a pretender with common blood who had no right to the throne despite the weight his name carried. He claimed that royal blood ran in his own veins and his fealty to William was temporary until he could assume the throne.”

“That day will never come,” Dagan replied tightly.

“I agree, and I am here to assure that outcome.”

Dagan halted at Hyacinthe’s statement. He did not trust her. He needed more time for his plans to free Rosamund, but he was suddenly uncertain if this was his final opportunity to accomplish that goal. Staring at Hyacinthe in the flickering torchlight, he asked flatly, “Why do you come here?”

Hyacinthe responded as coldly as he. “The baron is not the man either of us believed him to be. I have spent years of my life in pursuit of a dream that will never come to fruition…worshipping a man who did not exist.” Drawing herself up proudly despite her temporary disfigurement, Hyacinthe proclaimed softly, “I expect him to pay and pay heavily for the years I wasted loving a man who lied to me and cheated me of all I could otherwise have been.”

Dagan squinted into the semidarkness. He saw the set of the woman’s shoulders and the prideful tilt of her head and asked, “How far are you prepared to go to achieve your ends?”

Hyacinthe responded with a deep breath, “I will do what I must.”

Dagan hesitated, feeling the pressure of his situation. Should he trust this woman who had loved the baron for years? Should he believe her when she said she was through with him and wanted revenge for the years she had lost? Or should he set his hopes on a dim-witted jailor who looked at him with clear thoughts of enjoying the torture he would eventually inflict on him?

As Dagan hesitated, a small amount of blood oozed
from Hyacinthe’s swollen nose. It trickled onto her equally swollen lips, lips that the baron had most likely kissed freely when the situation suited him— lips that he had then struck without remorse, uncaring that the blow caused more than physical damage to a woman who had loved him.

Suddenly tasting the bitterness of her own blood, Hyacinthe brushed the narrow stream away with obvious embarrassment. Her eyes brimmed with tears she refused to shed as she continued to face him squarely, revealing clearly to Dagan for the first time the agony that had brought her to his squalid cell.

Dagan glanced at the cell door and then whispered, “We have little time if you speak truthfully and are willing to help me.”

Hyacinthe raised her chin a fraction higher. “Yea, that is why I have come here.”

“Then there is one thing I would ask of you.”