THE WARLORD (26 page)

"I received word that the baron wishes to speak with me," Simon told her quietly, after seating Tess in one of the chairs near the fireplace. He avoided the blank stare in the baroness's eyes. "Evard will be outside, should you need anything while I am gone. I will leave the door open so he will hear should you call for him. Is there anything you need before I leave?"

Simon waited patiently for an answer. The baroness simply stared unblinking across the bright chamber. With a silent curse he left the room and hurried away to find the baron. He finally tracked Kenric down in the armory. Thomas was busy helping the warlord into the light armor he wore for morning practices with his men. It seemed he intended to go about his business as usual. Simon walked forward and Kenric dismissed his squire with a curt nod.

"My sister will resume her duties as chatelaine. Fitz Alan will ensure that she performs them adequately. My wife is to remain in the solar," Kenric told the soldier bluntly, his attention on the fastenings of a metal armband. "She will not leave that chamber for any reason. No one will be allowed to see her other than those who bring her food and those who guard her. As of now, you and Evard will return to your duties on the practice fields where there is greater need for your talents. You will assign others to guard the solar door and no one man will receive the duty more than two days in a row. Any soldier who enters that room without my permission will be flogged. Any soldier who allows her to set foot from that room will be put to death. The ones who slept outside my door last night may sleep all they want in the dungeons. They will remain there three nights without sustenance. Those are my orders. See that they are obeyed."

The baroness did not fall into a fit of hysterics, as Simon half expected when he delivered the news. She remained seated in the chair, her expression empty, exactly as Simon left her before receiving these hellish commands. The look in her eyes remained startlingly vacant when he recited the orders in his own words, trying impossibly to make them sound less harsh than they were. He tried prodding her with questions to get some response but she remained silent. He told her he'd arranged for Miriam to deliver the lady's meals, but still no response.

Simon had a bed moved in from one of the unused chambers, but he received no thanks for that kindness. He found a clothes trunk, but her pitiful bag of belongings only seemed to emphasize the fact that she had little to put in it. Other pieces of furniture and comforts were brought to the room, none of it drawing a response from Lady Tess, each piece as unappreciated as the last. Knowing his absence would soon be noted on the practice field, Simon finally departed.

Miriam arrived at noon with a tempting meal of stew and cider. It remained untouched on the table that Simon had placed near the hearth. Giving up after a few cajoling words about the tastiness of the meal, Miriam made up the bed with linens and a coverlet she'd brought along, doing her best to keep up a one-sided conversation.

"Lady Helen's tapestry is half started, milady," Miriam said, her tone cheerful. She nodded toward the loom in one corner that contained the tapestry, but the baroness's blank gaze didn't follow. "She would surely appreciate your help with the piece. I often find comfort when plying a needle, the results of my work the reward of the effort."

The bed made, Miriam began fluffing the pillows, taking longer at the task than required. "Old Martha is still in her bed, but she intends to deliver a few of your meals when she's able to get around again. She wants to thank you for your help with the village children. The weekly medicines you meant for their mothers are ready and she wonders if she should send them ahead." Miriam waited a moment for an answer.
"Would you like Old Martha to send the medicines to the village, milady?"

Miriam shivered at the lack of expression in Lady Tess's eyes. She asked the baroness a few more questions then finally shook her head in defeat. Hours later, she had no better luck at dinner. Nothing had the slightest effect on the woman who sat as still and mute as a statue.

Sometime after Miriam left, Tess felt the need to relieve herself. Her head finally turned toward the door that led to the garderobe, an unexpected twinge of stiffness in the movement. She stood but stumbled to her knees, the muscles in her legs having locked after so many hours of absolute stillness. Moving slowly, she gained her feet again and walked stiffly to the door, performing the necessary task then returning to the main room. Miriam had stoked the fire before leaving and Tess walked toward its warmth. She sat cross-legged on the fur that was spread before the hearth and stared into the flames, the sight of the fire just as hypnotic as staring at the wall.

Miriam found her in that same position the next morning, staring sightlessly into the cold hearth. She laid a new fire, but could not coax the baroness to the bed, or even back to the chair. Tess's muscles stiffened of their own accord when Miriam boldly tried to pull her to her feet. Gazing down at the lady's empty eyes, Miriam crossed herself against evil then quickly left the chamber.

The warmth from the new fire seeped slowly into Tess's bones, as if awakening her from a deep sleep. She watched the flames dance along the oak logs yet the fire didn't hold the same strange fascination that it had the night before. The sound of voices returned with the warmth, as if carried in the heat of the flames. Tess didn't want to hear them, but they would not be silenced.

Closing out the world and retreating within
herself
was not the answer. Trying to shake off the strange lethargy, she straightened her legs and rubbed them to get the blood moving. When she felt reasonably certain they would not falter, she rose and made her way to the table, taking a seat in front of the breakfast Miriam had left behind. The smell of the food made her stomach lurch violently, but Tess forced herself to eat, one small biteful at a time. A fat tear splashed onto her hand and Tess idly wiped it away. The food roiled in her stomach and she clapped her hand over her mouth, barely making the garderobe before losing her meal.

When Miriam arrived at midday with her meal, Tess used Kenric's trick and stared silently out the window with her back to the room, discouraging any conversation. She wasn't ready to face anyone, to see the questions or condemnation in their eyes.

The ploy worked well and Tess was left alone with her meals. Keeping food in her stomach was proving more of a challenge than she'd imagined. By the third day of her confinement, she had learned to avoid anything with even a hint of spice or strong flavors. So far bread was her most successful food. Her meals contained little else to help her keep even that down. The sickness would pass, she told herself, trying not to dwell on the problem.

Kenric ate more from habit than hunger, barely tasting the delicious food. The bounty from the kitchen had continued in his wife's absence and the great hall was as quiet tonight as it had been every other night this week. His men ate in respectful silence, no longer fouling the hall with the remnants of their meals. No one within Montague would be so lacking in sense as to test him. They knew the days of his leniency were gone.

"Simon still absents himself from my table," he remarked to Fitz Alan, nodding toward an empty chair. Simon had found one excuse or another to make
himself
scarce at meals for the past week.

"Aye," Fitz Alan answered. "He said there were duties that would keep him busy in the armory until late this night."

"There is no more word of the bailiff?" Kenric asked.

"Nay, every village has been searched and most of the countryside. No one has seen him for more than a fortnight. 'Tis as if he disappeared into thin air."

Kenric nodded and returned to his meal. Fitz Alan frowned, realizing the discussion was over. The baron spoke rarely since his wife's aborted escape, only to give orders or to make an idle remark such as the last that invited little conversation. Fitz Alan was the only person at Montague who had not actively avoided his company this past week. He'd mistakenly believed that Kenric might want a sympathetic ear to vent his anger, yet he kept it to himself instead. No one doubted its existence. Each day he pushed his men to the limits of their endurance, often taking the field himself to test their mettle. The smallest mistakes were punished ruthlessly.

Fitz Alan knew Kenric had good reason to be furious, but he was beginning to wonder who was being punished the most. He also wondered what would happen when they were called to court. The baron would be expected to produce a wife who stood willingly by his side. It seemed an unlikely event if he didn't change his mind about keeping her locked up. Although Fitz Alan wasn't foolish enough to question Kenric about his intentions where Lady Tess was concerned, Simon had confided all. Fitz Alan still had trouble understanding the severity of the punishment. The lady hadn't actually escaped after all, and no one had been hurt or even worked up a good sweat in detaining her. Confining her for a week or two would be a fitting way to show her the errors of her ways, but locked away for the rest of her life? It was unreasonable. Everyone but Kenric seemed to realize that fact.

"Helen has been extremely cooperative of late," Fitz Alan ventured, bolstering his courage. The subject he intended to broach would likely earn him a black eye or sore jaw. No one yet had had the nerve to mention Lady Tess's name in the baron's presence. He foolishly decided to be the first. "She tells me your wife has things running so smoothly that there is little for her to do."

"Helen is gulling you again," Kenric said between bites. "The duties she assumed should keep her busy all day."

"Well, perhaps I exaggerated a bit," he admitted. "The fact is
,
Helen was hoping she would be allowed to visit Lady Tess. The request seemed reasonable and I told her I would ask your permission."

"Nay."

"None in the fortress have laid eyes on the lady for nearly a week." Fitz Alan knew he was wading in dangerous waters but continued anyway. "Only Miriam has seen Lady Tess, and her reports have Helen worried. According to Miriam, she eats barely enough to keep herself sustained and she hasn't spoken a word to anyone since she's been in there."

" 'Tis
not Helen's place to concern herself with my wife. Tess is feeling sorry for herself. She will eat when she is hungry enough."

"She is—"

"I will not discuss this subject further."

Fitz Alan scowled, abandoning the conversation. It was a pointless one. Kenric wasn't ready to listen to reason. He might not ever be. Whatever Lady Tess had done, the damage was serious and it went beyond a harebrained attempt to escape. Fitz Alan made a mental note to have Miriam report the baroness's condition to him each day. He would take matters into his own hands if her condition seemed to worsen. If Kenric refused to act sensibly, he would do it for him. Someday he might even be thanked, assuming he lived long enough for such praise.

Kenric was determined to ignore Fitz Alan's warning. If Tess was suffering, she deserved every minute of it. Starving herself was probably a deliberate ploy, knowing he would eventually learn of her "pitiful" state. He hoped the gossip reached her intact. He wanted her to know that he'd been told of her fast and remained unmoved. She would likely eat like a horse the moment she knew her trick wouldn't work.

Tess had been in his thoughts constantly the past week, even though he'd tried to banish her from his mind as completely as he'd banished her from his life. He knew other men who kept unwanted wives in virtual imprisonment. But Tess wasn't like any other wife. She was a gift from his king, and Edward had made it clear that he wanted a male heir for Remmington by the time they were called to court. Tess had shown no signs that she would follow his orders so easily. That forced Kenric to reconsider his relationship with his wife, although in the end his decision differed little from what he planned the day he sent her to the solar. To keep his bargain with the king, he would be forced to visit her occasionally until she conceived. The visits would continue if she failed to produce a boy.

The prospect of bedding his wife wrenched at his guts. There would always be the worry that he would weaken again and perform his duty as something more than just that. Already he wondered if he could manage it. Tess deserved nothing more than his contempt. He tried to console himself with the hope that she might have conceived the last time they were together. It would be a fitting reward for the hell she was putting him through.

That was his thought as he climbed the tower steps and entered his bedchamber that night. It was the time of day he dreaded most, knowing the long days he put in on the practice field were never long enough for a restful night. Nothing of Tess remained, yet the memories of her lingered everywhere, especially here. Images of her haunted him with the deceitfulness of soft smiles and innocent looks, memories he had no control over. He would glance at the table and recall the way she used to rest her chin in her hands while she listened to his stories, her eyes shining with what he'd thought was admiration as he recounted some of his more noble deeds. Other times it was an image as simple as the way she'd turned and smiled at him while brushing her hair. She was in his bed, at his bath, drying her hair before the fire, pushing open the shutters in the morning sunlight, her every curve outlined through a near transparent chemise.

Yet the memories were beginning to fade. Each day they cluttered his thoughts less often. In a few more weeks they would be gone entirely. By then he'd know if he would be forced to visit his wife and stir them all to life again. Settling into his empty bed for the night, he tried to fill his head with plans for the next day, of every exercise that would hone his skills for the battles that lay ahead, hoping tomorrow they would be exhausting enough to let him sleep undisturbed. Yet every night he awoke at least once, reaching for Tess in his sleep. Her punishment had become
his own
.

Kenric's suffering would have surprised Tess greatly. She was sure he'd simply resumed his life as if she'd never been in it. He probably wore that foolish grin of his all day, happy at last to be free of her.
Foolish, endearing grin.
She missed him more than she'd known possible, the loss settling into a dull ache in her chest.

The nights were not so bad, for then she could dream of him. In her dreams he held her close again, whispered softly in her ear, kept her safe from the world until the cold light of reality peeked through the windows. Seven days after being banished to the solar, it was not only the sunlight that woke her, but a vague sense of unease. Despite the sameness of her solitary day, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Or about to be.
It was a sense of dread that kept her brow furrowed as she bent over Helen's tapestry, a task she'd been forced to through sheer, desperate boredom. The oppressive feel of a coming storm filled the air, despite the sunny day.

The tapestry was nearing completion and Tess wondered already what would fill her days after that. Perhaps Miriam would be allowed to bring her supplies for another. Unless her guards wanted a madwoman on their hands, they would surely allow that much.

It was only mid-morning, yet she couldn't seem to contain the yawns as she pressed her needle endlessly into the tapestry. One yawn caused her to drop a stitch when her attention wandered for a moment and she gave the needle an irritated tug, accidentally pricking her finger. She stared down at the bright drop of blood, knowing it was only a pinprick, watching in horror as it flowed into a river, over her hand, across her lap, flooding the floor around her in a bright sea of red. She squeezed her eyes shut, terrified by the sight of what she knew could not be. The vision began the second her eyes closed. It lasted only a few minutes, but they seemed the longest of her life. When she opened her eyes again, she was screaming.

Tess's two guards rushed into the room, both with drawn swords. They startled her back to reality, dragging her senses away from the awful vision. Thinking quickly, she pointed to a section of the mullioned window that she'd propped open earlier that day.

"A—a man dropped down from the battlements and entered through the window!" She turned toward the garderobe. "He fled in there when I screamed!"

The guards moved cautiously toward the garderobe, too intent on their prey to notice the baroness edging her way behind their backs toward the door. She was on the tower steps before they even opened the garderobe door and found the small chamber empty.

Tess raced down the tower steps, through the small door to the gardens and down the path that led to the lower bailey, as if reaching the training grounds were a matter of life or death. From the shouts behind her, Tess knew her guards were gaining on her. The vision had shown her exactly where to find Kenric. She just didn't know if she could reach him in time.