Sharon Lanergan (7 page)

“Aye, Fin. He treats them with kindness.”

Loutrant sneered. “Bah, ‘tis a weakness all Fitzroys possess. Do you have a cottage near here where we can speak in private?”

“Aye, the last one on the right. It does not belong to me. The occupants have gone to visit family.”

Loutrant nodded. “It is a good place to hide until I have formed all my plans.”

“But, Fin…”

Loutrant tightened his grip on Marcus’ throat once more. “Aye? You wish to say more?”

“Nay.”

Chapter Eleven

“Here you are.”

Brian looked up from the dirt behind the castle he’d been studying. It was the same spot where he’d found the piece of Loutrant’s cloth a few days earlier. He straightened and stood.

“Constance.” Brian studied her. She wore a deep blue velvet kirtle and upon her long black hair she wore a simple beaded headdress. Beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

Constance smiled and walked closer. “I’ve been looking for you, actually.”

“Me?” He frowned.

“Aye.” Constance glanced down at the dirt he’d been swirling his stick in. “What were you doing just then?”

Brian shrugged. “Checking the soil for footprints.”

Constance blinked a couple of times, looking as though she wanted to ask him why, but then put her hand on his arm. “I looked for you in your room.”

Brian stared at her hand on his sleeve and ignored the jolt of warmth he felt.

“What did you want of me?”

“I thought we could walk together. It is a beautiful afternoon.”

Brian was already shaking his head. “I am certain one of my brothers would act as your escort.”

“I do not want an escort, Brian,” Constance said, her fingers closing around his arm. “I want your company.”

“Constance.”

“It will do you no harm.” Her hand slipped from his sleeve and she threaded her fingers through his. “It has been some time since I wandered to the old abbey ruins.”

Brian admitted, at least to himself, he did like the feel of her small, soft hand in his larger one. He was loathe to release it.

“Do you know the abbey is said to be haunted by spirits?” Constance asked. She laughed at the idea.

Brian’s lips twitched in spite of himself. “I have heard that.”

“You very nearly smiled, Brian,” she teased. “Please say you will come.”

“Very well. But ‘tis only to protect you from the spirits of long dead monks.”

“That is all I ask,” Constance assured him. She tugged him in the direction of the ruins.

“I am certain you have heard why they say the ruins are haunted,” Brian said as they walked hand in hand. Even before his imprisonment he hadn’t seen the ruins for years.

“I never heard the entire story.”

“The abbey was built before the Normans came. Some say it was used by the druids even before the believers in Christ.”

“So why don’t the druids haunt it?” Constance asked, laughing.

Brian inclined his head. “Mayhap they are there too. I don’t know.”

“Go on.”

“As you may have heard, Loutrant’s family once owned this land,” Brian said. “Before them Saxons. Pagans. They worshiped at the structure. When William of Normandy came and conquered, a Norman by the name of Loutrant was married to a Saxon, and Fitzroy Castle was built.”

Constance nodded. “Only ‘twas not Fitzroy Castle then.”

“Aye. It was during this occupation the monks came and turned the abbey into a Holy place for the church.”

Constance appeared to consider that, then she glanced at Brian. “When did the Fitzroys get the land?”

“You’re getting ahead of the story, fair lady.” Brian raised his gaze to the blue sky above. It really was a beautiful day. He’d once loved days like this.

“Then pray continue,” Constance said, impatient.

Brian smiled. “When William’s son, Henry, was king, the baron who owned this land was a cruel man. Some say he made a pact with the devil to win power. The monk in charge of the abbey learned of his wickedness and threatened the baron.”

“Threatened?”

“To go to the church and King Henry.” Brian stopped in the middle of the grassy path, the ruins now within their sights. “The baron became furious and vowed if the monk carried through with his threats he would unleash a great evil.”

Constance stared at Brian, no longer as amused by the story as she had been before. Around her very kissable mouth she’d gone white.

“It is just an old tale, Constance,” he reminded her.

“I know.” Constance exhaled. She laughed nervously. “Come, the ruins await. You can tell me the rest when we arrive.”

“Mayhap I should not tell you the rest.”

“Oh, heavens, Brian, I am a grown woman. I can handle a story of evil and spirits.”

Not for the first time, Brian saw something flash briefly in her green eyes. A deep sorrow mirrored his. She knew, he reminded himself. Constance had been a captive of Loutrant too.

Brian squeezed her hand and they walked toward the old ruins of the abbey. Lord, it had been long. Once, many years before he’d lain with a woman in the ruins, but the experience had been just a touch eerie and he had not repeated the action.

It was clear from the wild flowers growing on the old path his brothers had not strayed to the abbey in quite some time as well.

“So,” Constance said into the silence, “did the monk follow through with his threats?”

“Aye,” Brian said, nodding. “He sent a missive to King Henry and to the archbishop. The baron and his army murdered every one of the goodly monks in retaliation.”

Constance shuddered. “I remember hearing as a little girl it was a terrible death.”

“‘Tis said they were burned alive in the abbey. The baron called on the fires of Hell to assist him.” Brian stopped, reached down and plucked a light purple bloom. He turned to Constance and placed it between her hair and right ear.

“What a terrible man,” Constance whispered. She held Brian’s hand to her cheek.

“His blasphemous treachery did him no good. For King Henry’s wrath was swift. The monk had been a good and loyal friend to the king in his youth. The last Baron Loutrant on these lands was imprisoned and then executed. Most of his men, too.”

Constance placed a kiss on his palm, then turned to walk the last few steps to the ruins. “I have heard it said a wondrous treasure was left behind by the Loutrants when they were removed from power here.”

“Aye, ‘tis one of the legends. But I do not believe it is true,” Brian scoffed. “Anyway, this place was abandoned for near a decade. There were other Loutrants. The ones the present one comes from, in fact. If such a treasure existed they would have certainly come to claim it.”

They sat on the edge of one of the broken and burnt out walls. “King Henry gifted these lands and the castle to the Fitzroys almost ten years after executing the murderous baron. It has been our holding now for nearly two hundred years.”

“Why is it no Fitzroy has ever removed these rocks?” Constance wondered, a gentle breeze blowing tendrils of her glorious locks of raven hair.

“‘Twould be disloyal to the long dead monks?” Brian guessed. He shrugged. “I am not really certain.”

“And you? This is your holding now? Do you, too, intend to keep it as it is?” Constance asked with a small smile.

“I don’t know. I have not thought of such things.” Brian hadn’t really thought much about the castle and lands belonging to him. It was his son’s legacy.

“Brian, what is that?” Constance pointed to something hanging from a nearby tree branch. She stood and walked to it, pulled it off and turned it over in her hand.

“Well?” Brian asked.

Constance’s brow furrowed. “‘Tis some sort of cloth.”

Brian’s heart stilled for a beat. He stood up from the wall and took the cloth from Constance’s fingers. Another piece of the material he had back in his room.

“What is it?” Constance studied his face.

“I don’t know, but I have another.”

“Why does it look familiar?” Constance tried to take the piece back from him.

Brian moved it out of her grasp. “‘Tis naught. Let us return to the castle.”

****

What did it mean
?

Brian studied the two pieces of cloth he now had in his possession. He laid them out side by side on the small table in his room and poured himself a glass of wine.

The first piece was larger, nearly two inches wide and shaped in a square. As though it had been purposefully cut.

The scrap of material Constance had discovered was jagged and torn, as though ripped from someone’s clothing.

Brian reached for the cup of wine and tilted it to take a sip, then frowned into it. His stomach turned. He did not seem to have the taste for it this day.

A tap on the door drew his attention and he put the cup down.

“Come.”

Nicholas opened the door. “You wanted to see me?”

“Aye, Nick, close the door.” Brian waited until his brother had done so and then held up the two pieces of cloth. “Take a look at these.”

Nick glanced at first one, then the other. “What are they?”

“I found them outside. Do they look familiar?” Brian watched him study the cloths.

Nick rubbed them between his fingers. He raised his gaze to meet his brother’s. “This is the Loutrant family coat of arms.”

Brian nearly sighed out loud with relief. For just a moment he doubted his own sanity and thought he might be seeing demons where none existed. “Exactly,” he said with a nod.

“Where did you say you found these?”

“The square one I found behind the castle. The other Constance found attached to a tree by the ruins.”

Nick glanced at his sharply. “Constance?”

“Aye, earlier today when we went for a walk.”

“I see.”

Brian wasn’t sure what Nick thought he saw, but he didn’t care. He was only interested in his brother’s opinion of his discovery.

Nick returned the material to the table, and then folded his arms across his chest. “At the risk of sounding ignorant, so?”

“Why did these suddenly appear?” Brian demanded, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“Brian, Loutrant is dead,” Nick reminded him.

“Aye, but then why these?” Brian gestured to the cloths.

“You say Constance found that attached to a tree by the abbey?”

“Aye.”

“No one has been by the ruins for months, Brian. No doubt it has been there a long time,” Nick said.

Brian stared at the scrap. “Even if true, Nick, how do you explain the square I found behind the castle?”

“During your imprisonment, Loutrant’s half brother was seen around here; mayhap it came from him,” Nick said. “We saw Loutrant fall from the tower of the castle, Brian. He is gone.”

Brian knew it was true. He had seen it with his very own eyes. And yet he could not shake the feeling something was very wrong.

But Nick was studying him very closely. No doubt questioning his sanity as they all did. Even he did at times.

Brian smiled. “You are no doubt right. They are naught.” He removed them from the table. “I’ll see you downstairs for the meal.”

Nick returned the smile. “So I am dismissed?” He held up his hand. “Never mind. I am going.”

Brian waited for Nick to leave, then fingered the scraps once more. He hoped they did mean nothing as Nick thought.

****

Six Months Earlier, Loutrant Castle

“You seem sadder today,” Constance commented to the prisoner. She’d only just brought him his meal for the day and she sat next to him by his corner.

He nodded, but said nothing.

“Has Loutrant hurt you again?”

He smiled wryly.

Constance winced. “I mean, do you have another injury I need to tend to?”

“Nay.” His voice was barely a whisper.

She reached for the prisoner’s hands and squeezed them. “What is it? You are different today. More lost than usual.”

The man shrugged. “Loutrant has a new prisoner.”

“I know,” Constance said softly. “‘Tis Trevor Fitzroy. He told me.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Nay, Loutrant won’t let me. I know he has asked for a ransom just as he did with me.” Constance bit her lip. “But Nick won’t be able to come up with coins to pay the ransom for both of us.”

“Something Loutrant counted on, I am certain.” The prisoner leaned his head back. “And what of the king? Cannot the Fitzroys go to him?”

Constance shook her head. “King Edward is known to be fond of Finius. He has shown his loyalty when the king found himself in some difficulty recently.”

He nodded. “No doubt Loutrant also relied on this. Tell me, what does he hold against the Fitzroys?”

“Oh, so many things, sir.” Constance rubbed absently at his thumb. “But mostly he hates them because of Brian Fitzroy.”

The prisoner stared, seeming to see into her soul. She wished he would share his name with her. He’d come to mean so much.

“And what has this Brian Fitzroy done?” he asked.

“I was just a child when it happened, but apparently Brian, he was the eldest,” she explained quickly, “fell in love with Loutrant’s wife and she with him. They became lovers and Loutrant murdered them both.” Constance shuddered.