No Dark Place (26 page)

After a moment, Isabel said crisply, “All right, but just Philip, no one else.”

“I will speak to him,” Father Anselm said. “When can you be ready?”

“I will be ready in half an hour,” Isabel said.

“I will find Philip and ask him to have horses made ready for us,” said the priest.

It was two in the afternoon when Philip Demain set off from Evesham with his two charges. It had taken quite a bit of talking from the priest to convince him that it was necessary for Isabel to leave for Chippenham without waiting for her brother’s return.

“If you won’t escort us, Philip, then we will go alone,” the priest had said.

Philip had seen that he meant it, and had given in. Which was how he found himself cantering through the forests of Gloucestershire with a tired but determined woman and an exhausted but equally determined priest.

Philip had left Thomas’s roan behind and given Father Anselm one of the Evesham stallions, so at least the horses were fresh. The priest had been in the saddle for two straight days, however, and Philip could see that he was aching and sore. And Isabel, who had spent the last fourteen years in a convent, was not accustomed to the exertion of a long ride either.

Neither of them complained, however. In fact, whenever Philip suggested that they might stop for a rest, his companions stubbornly insisted that they push on.

Nothing could have shown Philip the urgency of their errand more vividly than their determination to continue despite their obvious physical discomfort.

They cantered on.

They arrived in Cirencester an hour after vespers, and asked for lodging at the abbey there. Philip saw his two charges taken into the care of the monks before he went to the stable to make certain that the horses were taken care of properly. By the time he returned to the abbey guest house for a meal, it was almost time for compline.

Few travelers were on the roads these days because of the war, and they were the only guests at the abbey this night. Consequently Philip had a room to himself and did not see Father Anselm until the following morning, when he went downstairs for breakfast.

Isabel was already sitting at the table and Philip took the bench across from her. It was sheer physical pleasure just to look at her, he thought.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said politely. “Did you sleep well?”

“Aye, thank you,” she said.

She did not look as if she had slept well, however. There were shadows under her beautiful eyes.

At this moment, Father Anselm entered the refectory. Isabel’s eyes turned to him with a look of unmistakable urgency.

“Eat something, my lady,” the priest said, looking at the untouched bread that lay in front of her. “It will not help Hugh to have you fainting from hunger.”

Isabel frowned, but she picked up her bread and bit off a small piece.

Father Anselm sat down next to her.

Philip looked at them from the other side of the table. He remembered very well Isabel’s words when he and Simon had first brought her the news that Hugh might be alive.

For fourteen years I have done penance for my wrongs to my son
.

And the priest, when he had learned of Hugh’s existence, had said,
Am I to be given the chance to make up for all the wrong that I did to that boy?

Whatever it was that lay in the past was evidently about to be brought to light.

Hugh’s face rose before Philip’s mind’s eye.

Poor bastard
, he found himself thinking.
I don’t think he’s in for a very pleasant afternoon
.

H
ugh was halfway across Salisbury Plain when the headache hit. He spent the night in an empty shepherd’s hut, waiting for the agony to pass. By daybreak he was wrung out and exhausted, but his head was clear of pain. He made himself sleep for a couple of hours before he started out once more for Chippenham.

It was midafternoon by the time Hugh reached the open field where the tournament had been held two months before. He halted Rufus and stared for a moment at the great battlemented curtain wall of Chippenham, so gray and forbidding under the cold blue sky. Next his eyes moved to the high stone towers from which flew the crimson flag with its insignia of a golden boar. The flags were rippling in the chill November breeze.

This is where I spent the first seven years of my life
, he told himself.

He squeezed his calves gently against Rufus’s sides and the stallion walked forward, carrying him ever closer to the high twin towers that guarded the main entrance to the castle.

The men at the gate recognized him and let him ride under the raised iron portcullis without question.

Hugh was deeply surprised when no one insisted upon escorting him to the earl.

Security at Chippenham was very loose, he thought with stringent disapproval.

There was no doubt that the guards’ carelessness was convenient for his own purposes, however. Unimpeded, Hugh rode Rufus to the stable in the outer bailey and gave the stallion into the hands of a stableboy with instructions about how to feed him. Then he proceeded on foot to the second gate that barred the way to the inner courtyard.

Once again he identified himself to the men on guard at the gate tower and was allowed to pass under the portcullis.

Once again Hugh frowned at the lax discipline that appeared to prevail among Guy’s retainers. He had passed a number of knights and men at arms in the outer bailey, and not one of them had stopped him to ask his business. Even now, as he approached the great square stone keep of Chippenham, with its four towers and its separate forebuilding, no one intercepted him to demand his credentials.

This is disgraceful
, Hugh thought as he walked up the wide stone ramp that led to the main entrance of the castle. He went through the heavy door and found himself alone on the stone-floored landing. Instead of taking the stairs to the Great Hall, he turned into the forebuilding, which housed the chapel.

Hugh had no intention of seeking out Guy if he did not have to. He wanted to do this alone.

It was late in the afternoon by the time Philip and his two charges reached Chippenham. Unlike Hugh, Philip’s face was unknown and he was stopped at the gate and questioned about his business.

“We are seeking Hugh de Leon,” Philip replied.

“Have you seen him?” Isabel asked anxiously.

“Aye, my lady.” As she spoke, Isabel had pushed back the hood of her cloak and now the guard stared at her with dazed recognition and admiration. “He arrived about two hours ago.”

Father Anselm said in surprise, “I thought he would be here much sooner than that.”

“Something must have detained him,” Philip said.

“I will be glad to escort you to Lord Guy, my lady,” the guard said respectfully, his eyes still glued to Isabel’s face.

“Thank you,” Isabel replied. “Do you mind if we hurry?”

The knight left the gatehouse and signaled to a squire to bring his horse. Then, with a showy move he had obviously practiced, he leaped into the saddle from the ground.

Before he moved off in front of them, he cast a quick glance at Isabel to see if she had noticed his athleticism.

She was staring at the chapel window in the castle forebuilding.

“Follow me,” the knight said gruffly, and led the way across the bailey to the gate in the castle’s inner walls. Once in the inner courtyard, they all dismounted and servants took their horses. Then their escort led them up the ramp, through the door, and up a flight of narrow stairs to the Great Hall.

Philip looked at Isabel with alarm as they walked into the hall. She was white to the lips.

She was once the mistress of Chippenham
, he thought.
Returning here must bring back memories
.

The dinner hour was approaching and servants were beginning to set up tables in the hall.

“Come and warm yourself before the fire, my lady,” their escort said respectfully. “I will send someone to tell Lord Guy that you are here.”

“Thank you,” Isabel said, and she preceded the men across the floor to the great stone fireplace. Philip could not help but notice how stiffly she walked. The long hours in the saddle had taken their toll on her.

Father Anselm and Isabel waited in tense silence while Philip struggled to reply politely to the guard’s questions. When at last Guy came down the stairs from his private solar, he was obviously stunned to see his sister-in-law.

“Isabel!” he said. “Whatever brings you here?” The gray eyes that were so like Hugh’s flicked from Philip to Father Anselm. “And with so small an escort!”

“Hugh is here, Guy,” Isabel said tersely. “Did you know that?”

The gray eyes widened. “No. No one told me. When did he arrive?”

“A few hours ago, I believe,” Isabel said.

Guy did not look pleased. He cast his eyes around the busy hall, as if searching for someone. “Where is he?”

“I believe he is in the chapel,” Isabel said.

Guy slowly returned his eyes to his sister-in-law. “In the chapel?” A deep line indented his forehead. “Again?”

“What do you mean, ‘again?’” Isabel asked sharply.

“He was here once before. He told me he was trying to recover his memory.” Guy shrugged his heavy shoulders. “He was not successful. Has he decided to try again?”

“Aye,” Isabel said. “And I have come to help him.” She laid her fingers on Guy’s blue wool sleeve. “With your permission, my lord, Father Anselm and I would like to go to the chapel to join Hugh.”

There was a moment’s silence as Guy looked from Isabel to the priest, then back again to Isabel. Then he said grimly, “We’ll all go.”

“No!” Father Anselm protested.

“We’ll all go or no one will go,” Guy said adamantly. “Hugh is not the only one who would like to know what happened the day my brother was murdered.”

Isabel turned to the priest. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “All that matters now is Hugh.”

After a minute, he nodded reluctantly.

She turned back to Guy. “Very well,” she said. “But let us go immediately. He has been alone there for too long.”

Guy offered Isabel his arm. “Come along then.”

She took it and the two of them led the way back across the Great Hall to the stairs. Father Anselm fell into step on the other side of Guy, and after a moment’s hesitation, Philip followed them.

Hugh had been kneeling in the chapel for hours.

This is what my father used to make me do
, he thought.
I used to kneel here, and look at the window and the sunlight coming through it. I used to wish that I was outside in the sun, not inside here in the cold and the damp
.

He remembered that. He remembered those feelings.

He remembered the guilt and the terror.

But he could not remember what had happened.

He shut his eyes and turned his thoughts to the one person who had never failed him.

Adela
, he thought.
Help me. I need to know this. Please, please help me
.

Nothing. Only the smell of damp and old incense. Only the chill of the unheated stone. It was growing dark outside and the interior of the chapel was becoming dimmer and dimmer.

It wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t going to remember. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life like this, not knowing.

He bent his head and covered his face with his hands.

He had shut the door behind him when he entered the chapel earlier, and now he heard the sound of the heavy oak door being pushed open.

Hugh’s hand immediately went to the dagger at his belt.

He didn’t look around. Instead he continued to kneel upright, his eyes on the crucifix that hung above the altar.

He listened intently to the noises behind him.

He heard the sound of more than one pair of feet. Several people were coming down the aisle.

A muscle flickered along Hugh’s jaw and he spun around in the pew, his hand still on his dagger.

A woman’s voice said, “Hugh, are you all right?”

With astonishment, he recognized the voice as belonging to his mother. His hand dropped away from the knife.

She was standing at the end of the bench where he was kneeling, and behind her was Father Anselm. Dimly, Hugh was aware of the presence of two other men, but his eyes were all for Isabel. He didn’t answer her question.

“Have you been able to remember?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. He didn’t think he was capable of speech.

“Then I will help you,” she said.

His fingers went to the bench in front of him, and
then he levered himself to his feet. He had been kneeling for so long that his legs felt unsteady. He had a pain in the small of his back.

“How?” he croaked.

“Father Anselm and I were both in the chapel with you on the morning your father died,” she said. “We’ll show you how it happened.”

Hugh stared at her out of haunted eyes. “You were there, too?”

“I was there,” she said, “and Father Anselm and Walter Crespin and you. And, of course, your father.”

“Don’t try to tell me that Walter Crespin killed him,” Hugh warned harshly.

“No.” Slowly she shook her head. “I am not going to do that.”

Whoever was standing toward the back of the chapel was carrying a candle, so the central aisle was dimly illuminated. Hugh was able to see his mother’s face.

“Then you admit that Walter didn’t kill him?” he demanded.

“Walter didn’t kill him,” she agreed gently.

Hugh swallowed hard. “Who did kill him then?”

“Let us see if you can remember,” she said.

She held out her hand to him. “Come here.”

Slowly Hugh edged his way out of the bench until he was standing at his mother’s side. She took his hand into hers.

“This is how it happened,” she said.

He stared down into her face. His breath was coming short and shallow.

“Do you remember what Father Anselm told you about the way your father separated us and about how he made you kneel in the chapel for hours, praying that you would not turn out like me?”

Hugh nodded tensely.

“It went on for a year,” she said. “Then, when Roger showed no signs of changing his fanatical course, I knew that I had to do something. I deserved to suffer, but I could no longer bear to see what was happening to you. So I asked Ivo’s brother if he would take you away from Chippenham, to the protection of my brother, Simon. Walter said that he would.”

Isabel was still holding Hugh’s hand in hers. Her ringless fingers were icy cold.

She went on calmly, “That morning, Walter and I came to the chapel together. I knew I would find you here and I knew that you would not go with him unless I told you to.”

She glanced at the bench beside them.

“When we came into the chapel, you were kneeling in the very same place you just were. You weren’t alone, however. Father Anselm was kneeling with you.”

Hugh flicked a glance at the priest.

Isabel’s fingers tightened around his. “I told you what I wanted you to do. At first you refused to leave me behind, but I convinced you that you had a much
better chance of reaching Evesham alone. I told you that my only real hope of rescue was for you to tell my brother what was happening at Chippenham.

“Finally you agreed to go with Walter.”

She tugged at his hand and walked with him the rest of the way down the aisle. They stopped before the altar rail. Then she put her hands upon his shoulders and placed him in a specific spot.

She motioned to Father Anselm, who came forward and took up a place at a little distance from her.

“This is how we were all standing when your father came into the chapel,” Isabel said. “Walter was behind Father Anselm.”

Hugh felt a terrible pressure beginning to build inside his head.

Not another headache
, he thought despairingly.
Not now
.

But the sharp pain of a headache did not follow. It was only the pressure, building and building, until he thought his skull would explode with it.

A deep voice rang in his ears.

What are you doing here, Isabel?

“He was enraged,” his mother’s voice said. “I was not supposed to talk to you at all.”

A presence seemed to rise before Hugh. A presence that was huge and angry and terrifying. It blocked the space between him and his mother so that he could no longer see her.

Do I have to lock you up to keep you away from the boy?

The pressure in Hugh’s head was excruciating. He couldn’t see the chapel, or his mother, or the priest who was standing close beside them. All he saw was darkness. All he felt was this fearful, towering presence.

His father.

Isabel’s voice floated to his ears. “He threatened me, Hugh, and that made you try to protect me.”

Now it was a child’s voice that sounded inside Hugh’s head.

Leave my mother alone! You’re not a good man, you’re an evil man. God doesn’t love you. God wouldn’t love a man who does the things that you do!

Hugh’s heart and pulse were racing. He struggled to suck air in and out of his lungs. He felt terror right down to the marrow of his bones.

The presence turned on him.

What did you say?

Again came that defiant child’s voice.

I said you were evil. You’re evil and I hate you. Leave my mother alone!

A huge hand was lifted. A fist smashed into his face and he crashed to the ground.

Blood poured down his face into his mouth.

A woman’s voice screamed,
Don’t touch him! Don’t you dare touch him!

Everything was dark and blurry. His head was ringing. The presence was still looming over him. Desperately he tried to scramble to his feet.