Where Love Has Gone (35 page)

Desmond was facing the stall entrance, which
was not a desirable position. His horse was becoming disturbed by
the unusual action and might lash out at any moment. Into Elaine’s
mind flashed the image of the man-at-arms who had been raked by the
slashing hooves of her horse during the previous day. She could not
let Desmond be hurt in the same way.

She did not try to be quiet. She just lifted
the shovel, ran forward, and brought it down hard on the unknown
man’s shoulders. With a foul curse on his lips he began to turn,
but Elaine raised the shovel again and struck him on the side of
his head. He fell to his knees, dropping his sword. She hoisted the
shovel once more, ready to hit him a third time.

“Enough.” Desmond caught her wrist, halting
the downward swing of her makeshift weapon. “Leave him conscious. I
want to talk to him.”

Desmond gave his enemy’s sword a hard kick,
sending it out of the stall. Elaine twisted away from Desmond’s
grip on her wrist, threw down the shovel, and went to pick up the
discarded sword. She rejoined Desmond, standing beside him with the
heavy sword in both hands, holding it in much the same manner as
she’d held the shovel.

“Who are you?” Desmond demanded of the
defeated attacker. “Who sent you to kill us?”

For answer, the man spat, aiming at Desmond’s
boots but missing.

“You are remarkably rude,” Elaine said,
tucking the tip of the man’s own sword under his chin. “Lift your
head and turn your face toward the light. And do not spit at me,
fellow, unless you want your throat cut. My temper is short this
morning.”

She heard a quiet chuckle from Desmond,
though she wasn’t paying much attention to him. She was watching
the defeated man as he slowly turned his head.

“I know you,” she said. “I saw you in the
great hall at St. Lo when we were there. Did Sir Edmund send you
after us?”

“You said it, not me,” the man responded.

“We have the answer we wanted,” Desmond said.
“Sir Edmund must be part of the conspiracy against King Henry.”

“Wha’s goin’ on here?” A stableboy, tousled
and obviously newly wakened, strolled into the stable.

“This man attacked us while we were saddling
our horses,” Elaine said.

“They’re thieves,” the man cried, trying to
stand. Elaine’s firm hand with the sword kept him in place. “They
stole my horses.”

“Huh?” the stableboy said dully. He rubbed
his hand through his hair. “That can’t be right. This here’s a lord
and his lady. They paid handsomely to keep their horses overnight
and they paid my Dad well for their room. They ain’t no thieves.
More likely, you’re the thief.”

“Exactly,” Desmond said with smooth
assurance. A few coins appeared in his palm as if by magic. “Young
man, my lady and I are in a hurry. We cannot stay to wait for an
official to hear the facts in this case, so here’s what I want you
to do. You and I will tie this man up and tuck him into the back of
the stable, perhaps under a pile of hay, and leave him there until
well after noontime. Then, you may summon the local mayor or
magistrate to sentence him for attempted murder and robbery. He’s a
dangerous thief, so you won’t untie him unless one or two other
strong men are nearby. He tried to kill us and he won’t hesitate to
attack you.”

“We ain’t never had a murderer at this inn,”
the stableboy said, staring at the armored man in open
fascination.

“I believe you are the ideal person to take
care of this matter,” Desmond said.

“Aye, sir, that I am.”

A short time later, with the would-be
murderer securely tied, gagged, and consigned to an unused stall,
and with the stableboy in possession of more coins than he had ever
seen in his life, or was ever likely to see again, Desmond and
Elaine rode away from the inn.

“You are a formidable comrade-in-arms,”
Desmond said, grinning at Elaine. “I’ll never attempt to attack you
in a stable.”

“Thank you, sir.” She smiled back at him,
glad to see his unhappy mood of early morning was gone. “Let us
hope we meet no more men who’ve been sent to prevent us from
reaching Caen.”

“You and I, together, will make sure no one
stops us,” he said. “But, it will be a long day. Can you do
it?”

“Certainly. We must do it.” She was a bit
sore after his lovemaking, so riding a horse was not what she most
wanted to do that morning, but she knew the urgency of their
mission. Resolved not to complain, she kicked her horse and set off
at a steady gallop.

They reached Caen when the sun was sinking
low in the hazy sky of the last day of April. Golden rays
illuminated the pale, creamy Caen stone from which William the
Conqueror had built his citadel. The royal banners floating above
the ramparts showed King Henry was in residence.

The castle sat on the highest point of land
for miles around, so it dominated and protected the town and the
countryside. Below the stone walls the River Orne meandered
peacefully on its way to the Narrow Sea through salt marshes and
sand dunes. Because the river provided easy access to the sea, Caen
was a busy port. Elaine thought she saw ship masts jutting through
the mist. She squinted and strained her eyes, seeking the
Daisy
.

“I already looked,” Desmond said, noticing
the direction of her gaze. “She hasn’t arrived yet. Or, if she has,
she’s tied up where we can’t see her.”

At the South Gate they paused while Desmond
showed the guards the letter he carried. King Henry’s seal, and
that of the baron of Wortham, were instantly recognized and the
travelers were waved past a round tower and into the town.

Their progress was slowed by the press of
people. Men and women on horseback, or driving carts piled high
with wares for the market, parents with children likely to dart
into the street, a half dozen men-at-arms marching toward the
gatehouse, all seemed meant to keep them from reaching the castle.
Finally, Elaine gave up trying to ride next to Desmond and fell
back, allowing him to forge a way through the crowd while she
followed close behind.

She knew Caen fairly well, having spent time
there after her father died, before she and Aglise were sent to
Jersey, so she spared only passing glances for the great abbey the
Conqueror had founded, or for the Church of St. Etienne, with its
twin, octagonal towers. In fact, she paid little attention at all
to her surroundings. Desmond, in his eagerness to reach Caen before
some new attempt to halt them could occur, had permitted only two
brief stops during the day. As a result, Elaine was close to
falling out of her saddle from sheer weariness. She pitied the
horses, who must be as tired as their riders.

At the main gate of the castle, Desmond again
flourished his very useful document, which gained them immediate
admission with no questions asked.

Inside the bailey, Desmond handed over their
horses to a squire with instructions that they should be rubbed
down, fed, and watered, before they were returned to the owners who
had left them at St. Lo.

Elaine was swaying on her feet until Desmond
put an arm around her waist to steady her. Keeping his arm around
her and with their saddlebags slung over his other arm, he guided
her to a side entrance some distance from the great, ceremonial
door of the keep.

Once they were past the entrance she quickly
lost her way as he led her around corners, up a series of
staircases, and through several doors, not pausing to greet any of
the men and women they passed. She was aware that they were
steadily moving to higher levels of the castle, but still she gaped
in surprise after Desmond showed his letter one last time and a
guard flung open a door admitting them to a large chamber flooded
with pink and gold evening light.

Two tall, narrow windows opened to the
western sky and a view of distant hills. Two matching windows faced
north, overlooking the river and the docks. Elaine could see a blue
line across the northern horizon and guessed it was the sea.

The room was sparsely furnished. A large
table sat in front of the west windows, with a carved wooden chair
drawn up to it. The chair was cleverly placed so the person sitting
in it had his back to the light, while anyone facing him at any
time after late morning or midday would be forced to look into the
sun. A pair of stools were placed in front of the table. A couple
of baskets in one corner of the room contained neatly rolled
parchments with identifying tags affixed to them. A fine tapestry
on an inner wall completed the simple arrangements.

No one was in the room, so Elaine went to the
north windows.

“From this height I can see almost the entire
harbor, but I don’t see the
Daisy
,” she said. “Do you
suppose they faced trouble at sea, as we did on land?”

“More likely, they faced bad weather,”
Desmond responded. “It scarcely matters, since we are here with a
night and perhaps part of a day to spare.”

They both turned at the sound of a footstep.
The tapestry was drawn back to reveal an archway behind it and a
tall man with red-gold hair entered the room. His tunic and hose
were deep green, which Elaine recalled was his favorite color. His
belt was of gilded leather with a knife fastened to it within easy
reach of his right hand, but he wore no sword. A heavy gold chain
around his neck was his only adornment.

“Royce,” she cried, sinking into what she
hoped was a creditable curtsey despite the stiffness in her hips
and knees after a long day on horseback.

“Elaine? What are you doing here? Dear girl,
how glad I am to see you!”

Royce opened his arms and Elaine walked into
them and rested her head on his broad chest, feeling as if she had
come home. They were not related by blood; he was only her father’s
childhood friend and her sister’s godfather, yet she loved him as
if he were blood kin.

“Well, Desmond?” Royce said.

Elaine was aware that he was looking at
Desmond over her head. After a moment, she felt Royce’s arms
tighten around her and she knew Desmond had given a sign that she
could not see.

“What happened to Aglise?” Royce asked, still
speaking to Desmond.

Elaine blinked hard against the tears
suddenly threatening to overwhelm her. Fearing if she tried to say
anything she’d begin to cry, she held on tight to Royce and let
Desmond do the talking.

“Aglise is dead,” Desmond said softly.
“What’s more, we have uncovered evidence of a plot to kill King
Henry on the first day of May. Unless I’ve counted wrong, that is
tomorrow.”

Royce went absolutely still. Then he took
Elaine by her shoulders and held her away from him so he could look
into her eyes.

“It’s true,” Elaine said, wiping away the
recalcitrant tears that flowed in spite of her efforts to control
them. She couldn’t break down now. She and Desmond had too much to
tell. “We believe King Louis has placed a spy here at court,” she
added.

“Louis has more than one spy in Henry’s
court,” Royce told her. His long, elegant fingers brushed the
teardrops from her cheek.

“This spy uses pigeons to send messages,” she
revealed. “He has been corresponding with Lady Benedicta about a
scheme for the French to seize Jersey and the other islands in the
Narrow Sea. Aglise found out about the plan, so Lady Benedicta
killed her.”

“Benedicta? That pious creature committed
murder?”

“And then killed herself,” Elaine added.

Desmond took up the story, recounting how he
and Cadwallon had at first been misled by Aglise’s liaison with
Lord Bertrand, and how Elaine had provided the information they
needed to make sense of apparently disconnected details.

“Good God!” Royce exclaimed. “Bertrand
seduced Aglise? That villain! Elaine, I swear to you, old friend of
mine though Bertrand is, he will pay for what he did to my
godchild. But tell me now, how did you discover the information
Desmond mentioned?”

“When I was packing Aglise’s clothing, I
found a coded message sewn into the hem of her sleeve,” Elaine
said. “Desmond was able to decipher it. That’s how we learned of
King Louis’s plan for murder and invasion, and of Lady Benedicta’s
involvement in the scheme. Lord Bertrand claims he knew nothing
about it.”

“Really? I’ll soon learn the truth of his
assertion. Where is Cadwallon?” Royce demanded of Desmond.

“He’s aboard the
Daisy
, guarding Lord
Bertrand and our squires, one of whom was stabbed by Lady
Benedicta, and the other nearly drowned by French spies,” Desmond
said. “I’ll explain about all of that later. We knew we had to warn
you and King Henry as quickly as possible. Elaine suggested we
split our group into two parties, one to travel by land and the
other by sea, in hope that one group would reach you in time to
prevent the murder and the French invasion.”

“Good thinking,” Royce said, smiling at
Elaine.

“I don’t know how the
Daisy
is faring.
So far as we can tell, she hasn’t tied up at the docks here,”
Desmond said. “Elaine and I had to fight off two attempts to stop
us. We have concluded that Sir Edmund, the man currently holding
the fortress at St. Lo, is a part of the French scheme.
Furthermore, I can report to you, my lord, that Elaine is as brave
and resourceful as any man.”

“She is her father’s true daughter.” The
approval on Royce’s handsome face warmed Elaine’s heart.

“When will you warn King Henry?” she
asked.

“I’ll do it at once. I’m sure he will want to
speak with both of you later. Elaine, my dear, I am sorry to tell
you, your mother is also here at court.”

“Of course, she is.” Elaine put up both
hands, holding her suddenly aching head. In fact, there wasn’t a
single part of her body that didn’t ache. “How I wish I didn’t have
to tell her about Aglise.”

“I think it’s best if we don’t immediately
reveal your presence to anyone,” Royce said. “Though it’s not
entirely proper for an unwed girl, I suggest you stay here in my
rooms, where you can be private, and where you may rest until after
I see King Henry. Do you have another dress?”