SirenSong (38 page)

He was so eager to close the jaws of his trap on Alys that
he rode through the outer and inner baileys without a word, leapt from his
horse, and rushed up into the hall. One sweeping glance told him that Alys was
not, as he suspected she might be, furiously waiting for him to return so that
she could demand he let her in to see Elizabeth. Possibly she was still
upstairs arguing with Emma. He hurried up, stopped short, choking with
disappointment. Alys was nowhere in sight and the maids were quietly at work.

Maud saw him and came across the room to tell him, with a
pleased smile, that all would now surely be well with Elizabeth, since Lady
Alys had come to visit her. Mauger gaped at her. He realized that Emma had not
locked the door and Alys had simply walked in, so that the maids still had no
suspicion that anything was wrong.

“She is still there?” Mauger asked breathlessly, hardly
believing his good luck.

“Yes, and I am sure—”

But Mauger did not wait for her to finish speaking. He
thrust past her, lifted the latch on Elizabeth’s door and pushed. The door
would not open. Damn that idiot Emma! Mauger rattled the latch, hoping the girl
would come and open it and the women would think only that the latch or door
had stuck. When that did not work, Mauger lost his temper. What did it matter
what a bunch of silly women thought. He pounded on the door violently, shouting,
“Let me in, Emma. It is I, Mauger.”

As the men attacking Raymond drew back a little to unify
their rush at him, he leapt sideways, jerking at the latch of the door. It was
a small hope, but it was his only hope. Although only four men ringed him now,
all of them would, be back in action soon, Raymond feared. He was proud of his
fighting skills, but did not pretend to himself that he could hold off so many
for much longer. They could afford to send a few at a time against him while
the others rested until he was too exhausted to defend himself. Raymond knew he
would die in that fetid room if he could not get out.

To his surprise, the door swung open. The men charged
forward bellowing with rage, but it was too late. Outside, Raymond did not run.
He swung round next to the wall of the place and brought his sword down from an
overhead sweep as hard as he could. A blood-chilling scream rang out as the
sword connected with the shoulder of the man most closely on his heels. Raymond
wrenched his weapon back up fiercely. It came away more easily than he expected
having broken right through the collarbone and there being nothing but soft
tissue above that. The wild backswing nearly decapitated the next man out, and
he fell back into the inn, blood pulsing briefly from his throat before his
brain died and his heart stopped pumping.

The others stopped where they were. Egbert, who had most to
lose if Raymond escaped and had thus been the first out behind him, continued
to scream but more weakly. The sword had opened a four-inch-deep slash where
the neck joined the body, and he was losing blood fast. As his voice weakened,
the men still inside the inn looked at each other. Was it worth pursuing the
intended victim? When Egbert was dead, they could strip him of whatever he had.
Obviously they could not hope to obtain the bonus he had promised them even if
they succeeded in killing this cursed “easy prey”. Equally obviously he had
lied to them. This was no merchant’s clerk, even if he did check cargoes on a
ship.

They consulted rapidly in whispers, arguing whether it was
more dangerous to let Raymond live, in which case he could complain against
them, or to try to kill him. Two men were hurt already, one was dead and
another nearly so. It was not possible to take a chance on the front door,
where that deadly sword might be waiting. They left the worst hurt man in the
main room of the inn, talking softly to himself to make Raymond believe they
were all still there, and carefully went through the back door to sneak up on
him from behind.

The effort was all wasted. Raymond had not run, as they
expected, because he was not in a panic. Although not as experienced in war as
an older man, he had fought often enough and faced enough danger to keep a cool
head. Nor had he remained by the door to take vengeance. He had only wished to
discourage pursuit. Thus, when the man he had killed fell back into the inn and
no one had leapt out over the body, he had waited no more than five seconds
before running as silently as he could across the narrow lane into the shadow
of another hut.

Here he had paused again, just long enough to look over his
shoulder. Aside from the weakening screams of Egbert, now little more than
moans, all was quiet. Raymond could only suppose that those who lived in the area
were too callous or too frightened to bestir themselves over blatant evidence
of violence. As far as he was concerned, this was all to the good, and he
simply made haste to get as far away as possible. When he had passed down
several winding alleys, Raymond stopped again. There was no sound of pursuit
nor was there a person or an open door or window in sight. None of this was
surprising, as the rain had begun in good earnest.

Raymond leaned against a blank wall, wiped his sword on his
cloak, and sheathed it. Then he used his knife to tear strips from his tunic to
bind his left arm, hoping that would stanch the bleeding. He glanced around,
but this alley looked exactly like any other. There were no stars, no moon, and
the drumming of the rain was so loud that he could not hear the soft gurgle and
chuckle of the river. Shakily he began to laugh. He was lost.

The paralysis of fear that had frozen the three women broke
at Mauger’s second thunderous demand to be admitted. Shaking with terror, Emma
started forward. Just in time, Elizabeth’s arm closed around her neck.

“He will break your nose and knock out your teeth,”
Elizabeth hissed.

“Even the dog boys and pig men will not want you,” Alys
added softly and viciously, “but if you help us, my papa will find you a rich
lover who will value you and be kind to you.”

“But what can we do?” Emma whimpered.

“Take me back to the chair,” Elizabeth said. “I can stand
with that support. Emma, call out that you are coming. Say you are on the pot,
quick!”

Once she was given a lead, Emma was able to obey. The
trembling of her voice did not convey innocence, but that did no harm because
Mauger already knew Alys was inside and expected her to sound guilty. He
thought Alys was trying to hide and pounded on the door again. Elizabeth,
leaning on the chair, turned to face the sound.

“Take off the bar,” she urged, “and, as you open, stand
behind the door. He will see me first and rush to subdue me.”

Had Elizabeth not offered that hope of concealment and
respite, Emma would have fainted. As it was, she was so frightened she could
barely walk. She tottered toward the door, quite unaware that Alys had picked
up a heavy bronze candlestick and had flattened herself against the wall on the
other side. Mauger was shouting again, and Emma sobbed with terror, struggling
to lift the bar with fear-loosened muscles.

As she had planned, the first thing Mauger saw was
Elizabeth. “Where is she?” he roared, his eyes sweeping the room.

“Who?” Elizabeth asked calmly, as if there were nothing
unusual in the situation.

Mauger took two steps forward, looking toward the bed, which
was the most logical place for Alys to hide. He hesitated, unwilling to move
far from the door lest Elizabeth dart past him while he tried to seize Alys, or
vice versa. The pause was exactly what Alys needed. She leapt forward and swung
the candlestick at his head with all the strength she had. Alys was no
weakling, but she was a small girl. Although she hit Mauger, it was with less
force than she desired because he was considerably taller than she. He
staggered forward, roaring with pain and surprise, dazed but not incapacitated.
Startled out of the few wits she had, Emma pushed the door closed and stood
frozen with horror. Alys followed Mauger, raising the candlestick to strike again,
but he turned with surprising swiftness and seized her arm. Elizabeth cried out
and flung herself forward, but her weakened legs would not hold her and she
fell.

Alys had brought her left hand into play, scratching at
Mauger’s eyes. It was a futile attempt. He seized that hand also. “You will
wish you had not done that,” he snarled. “When I have done with that idiot who
disobeyed me, I—”

His voice cut off in a high shriek as Alys brought her knee
up and caught him in the groin. Unfortunately the force of this blow was
reduced by her long, clinging skirt. Mauger’s yell was as much owing to shock
and indignation as to pain, and he did not let go of her. However, she had hurt
him enough so that he bent forward and stood quite still, gasping.

Something about the assault on Mauger’s sexual organs woke
in Emma the burning resentment that fear had suppressed. She had been schooled
to docility to men. She had never, for a moment, considered resistance
possible. Alys’s first attack on Mauger shocked her. This second, when Emma had
believed the other girl helpless, broke her paralysis. Before the sound of
Mauger’s shriek had died, while he was still bent over trying to catch his
breath, Emma scuttled forward and brought the heavy bar of the door, which she
had been too frightened to release, down on his back.

This second attack was so unexpected that Mauger let go of
Alys to save himself as he fell forward. Alys had had a split second’s warning,
since she had been facing Emma and had seen her move. She skittered back out of
the way of Mauger’s falling body and hit him again with the candlestick. This
time his head was lower than her hand and the impact was enough to knock him
senseless.

He lay snorting on the floor while all three women stared,
wide eyed, hardly believing in their success. Elizabeth, who had got herself
back on her knees, was the first to recover. “Tie him. Alys, use the things you
loosened from me or something else and tie him quickly before he regains his
senses.”

For a long moment Alys did not move, standing with the
candlestick poised. Her common sense told her that she should not stop, that
she should beat Mauger’s head to a bloody pulp, spatter his brains so that he
could do no more evil. She managed to raise the weapon higher, but she could
not bring it down. It was murder. To strike and strike at a helpless body, that
was murder. She could not bring herself to do it, even though she knew she was
breeding grief for them all.

Alys dropped the candlestick, with a soft exclamation of
regret for her weakness, and began to tie Mauger hand and foot. Meanwhile, Emma
had let go of the bar and fled to Elizabeth, who praised her and comforted her
while being lifted to her feet again. Alys added her thanks also, promising
Emma, this time ungrudgingly, whatever reward she desired for Alys was aware
that the single blow the girl had struck had saved her father’s and her future
husband’s lives as well as Elizabeth’s and eventually her own. The sincerity of
the praise lavished on her penetrated Emma’s doubt. She grew quite cheerful and
gleefully helped Alys drag Mauger to Elizabeth’s bed and, heaving mightily, got
him into it.

Emma’s cheerfulness was not shared by Alys or Elizabeth.
They had no idea whether Mauger had instructed his men-at-arms to prevent his
wife and Alys from leaving. They feared that Egbert, who was usually in his
master’s confidence, might see them and give warning to hold them even if
Mauger had not. If the women had heard Mauger’s shouts, would they have run
down to the hall cackling like frightened geese?

The last had not happened, although the maids were tense,
not working, watching Elizabeth’s door. There was a murmur when she emerged,
walking waveringly, and Maud rushed over with a cry of joy mingled with
consternation.

“Hush,” Elizabeth said. “Mauger is furious because I must go
back to Marlowe.”

“Oh, my lady, are you strong enough?” Maud whispered,
glancing nervously at the door.

“I was not really ill,” Elizabeth said quite truthfully,
“and would have been out of my bed yesterday by my own will. I do still find
myself a little feeble, however, so you are to come with us. Fetch cloaks
quickly.”

Maud was silly, but she sensed something wrong. Obviously
the reconciliation she had hoped for between her master and her mistress had
not taken place. Possibly her lady was trying to be out of the way while the
master worked off his bad temper. Emma’s presence was a complete puzzle, unless
Elizabeth’s price for restoration of her favors was to be rid of Emma. Maud did
not dare argue with her mistress and was relieved that she would not be left
behind to face Mauger’s wrath if he had not agreed to Emma’s removal.

They crept down the stairs, supporting Elizabeth as well as
they could, and bade Maud see if Egbert was in the hall. When she reported he
was not, Alys called her men who were waiting there. They made their way down
the outer stair, through the inner bailey, and around toward the small one-man
gate in the rear of the outer wall. Although this was a kind of weakness,
because the gate could be forced far more easily than the great front
portcullis, it mattered little. The passage through the walls was so narrow
that only one person could enter at a time. Thus, the postern could be easily
defended or even stuffed with rubbish in time of war. As long as its placement
was “secret,” it provided a way for messengers to sneak out. In time of peace,
of course, it was simply a shorter route to the rear of the keep.

By the time they reached the postern gate, they were all
soaked and Maud was growing more and more frightened. She began to protest,
crying that it was cruel and sinful that Alys should drag Elizabeth, weak and
sick as she was, out into a downpour. It no longer seemed possible to her that
Elizabeth’s purpose could be to rid herself of Emma. There must be some
emergency at Marlowe, but it did not seem to Maud that any emergency could
merit such cruelty to her enfeebled mistress.