A Flame Run Wild (43 page)

* * *

Two hours before the dawn of the Signes' expected attack, Charles led his men down into the tunnel to wait. When they were stationed on both sides of the corridor where it divided, he led another group out to wait in the copse of trees a few hundred yards from the nearly hidden gate. Once Louis's force entered the tunnel, Charles's men would close it behind them so, they could not retreat.

As Charles entered the trees, he could see Liliane on the south tower, her silhouette faintly outlined in the fading moonlight. She was taking .a great risk in pulling the border sentries back and luring Louis to Castle de Brueil—if she had miscalculated, they could all die for it, and she Would die the most, horribly. Louis had a vengeful nature.

When he was well within the trees, he motioned his men to lie low among the leaves and brush in case Louis used the copse for concealment. Burrowing down, they waited.

In less than a half hour, a few wraithlike horsemen threaded through the copse. Pikemen darted behind them. Bringing up the rear were men with drawn swords. Flattened in the leaves, Charles recognized Louis as he passed, advancing through the darkness toward the postern. Charles held his breath, waiting for one of the enemy to stumble over a hidden man, but no cry of either warning or struggle stirred the misty silence. Perhaps fifty yards from the postern, Louis halted, waiting for his men to regroup behind him. They moved forward, then at the last moment half of them veered away to continue toward the east side of the castle. "Where the hell are they going?" whispered a yeoman a few feet from Charles's elbow.

Feeling sweat break out on his spine, Charles peered tensely at the waning shadows of Louis's troop. The rest of his men waited outside the postern. "The old tunnel . . . Good God, they're going for the wrong one!"

"They seem to know what they're about," the yeoman hissed. "No shuffling there. Looks like somebody directed them to the old tunnel."

"Well, that someone was
not
the Lady Liliane, if that is what you're hinting," snapped Charles. He jumped to his feet and softly blew the reed whistle that hung about his neck. The quail call trilled through the copse. In moments, twelve men were about him. "Come on, lads. We must warn those poor devils in the tunnel that the quarry's gone down the wrong hole!"

* * *

Within the cistern, the men lying in wait to ambush Louis were growing impatient and wondering how long he was going to wait. The night was nearly gone, the dawn's first dull light penetrating the tunnel opening. In a quarter of an hour, Louis would be unable to approach the castle without being seen.

Suddenly they saw him behind them, a mass of men bristling with pikes at his back, blocking their way back into the castle. In front of them, the tunnel opening's first dim light blacked out. Night had again come upon them.

A moment later, Charles and his men surged upon the enemy at the tunnel mouth; all silence ended and the slaughter began.

From the rampart, Liliane saw the flash of blades pick up the faint light in the mist and realized what had happened. Having ducked down behind the wail to keep from alerting Louis's stealthy band, she had not seen them split until too late. Now the mass of the castle defenders-were trapped as she had meant to trap Louis. White-faced, she motioned swiftly to the guards on the wall. "Quickly, go down and get behind Louis in the old tunnel to relieve our men!"

To her dismay, they backed away. "You betrayed us, you Judas witch!" They broke and ran down the stone stairs to crank open the drawbridge and escape. The guards on the other walls joined them within minutes.

"Come back!" Liliane cried desperately. "You are wrong! Come back!"

Her pleas were useless, barely audible over the rising noise. She turned to grip the rampart wall. Below, five men were running hard from the castle: the last of her reserve men and Charles were being chased by Signe bowmen. A rain of arrows pursued their retreat, and before the men reached the copse of trees that had once been their haven, three of them were dead. The bowman entered the copse, and scant minutes later, a lone horseman burst from the far trees and galloped for the north.

Charles, Liliane realized with a wild surge of hope. Charles has gotten away to warn Alexandre! And to tell him I have given his castle and retainers into the hands of his enemies ... to tell him that I have betrayed him. . . .

Chapter 16

~

Cat and Mouse

Castle de Brueil

That same morning

H
er face composed, Liliane was waiting alone in the great hall when Louis and his guards burst through its doors. Her hands locked on her chair arms, but she did not rise. As he advanced with sword drawn, her heart pounded in her breast. He wanted to kill her, and if Jacques had given him orders to do so, she had only seconds left to live. "Well," she said coolly, "we have been successful. I shall be leaving for Spain today."

His eyes mocking, Louis bowed. "Our uncle requests that you wait until Count Alexandre has been captured. He also wishes you to be present for the ceremonies that transfer the Brueil demesne to his possession. He has pressing affairs at the moment, but he should arrive in a few days. Surely you can use that time to pack your belongings."

Liliane rose. If Louis could pretend to be uncaring, she would assume the same tone. As she was obviously his prisoner, pressing to leave would be pointless and only arouse suspicion. "Why not? A few days will not matter." She started to descend the dais, expecting at each step to be run through.

Louis waved her to halt. "Please, resume your place; it suits you so. Why, every time I think of you, Cousin, it is upon a fine chair above my head . . . just as you were in Spain. You were so remote and detached, you seemed untouchable, just as you do now."

"Louis," she replied flatly, "I do not like you and I have more profitable things to do than bandy conversation."

"Then you will agree that it will be profitable to us both to see that our victory is accepted quietly by your husband's castellans." He waved to a guard, and the man went to open the hall's great wooden doors. With a rank of Signe guards on either side of them, a line of battered prisoners filed into the room.

Liliane was vastly relieved to see so many of her people alive, She had so long thought of them as hers, but now they stared at her with disillusionment and hatred. These men had believed in her, fought for her and Alexandre; now they despised her as a traitor just as Alexandre would do. She forced her expression to remain impassive as she resumed her chair.

The prisoners shuffled to a halt before the dais, and Louis smiled at her as he spoke to them. "This is your lady, in whom my uncle is well pleased. She had given you unto us, as she was meant to do from the beginning."

A burly yeoman hurled himself at Louis. "Smug, blaspheming, unnatural monster!" The chain about his neck abruptly tightened and, choking, he was dragged to the stone floor. His hands, bound behind his back, twitched as his breath was cut off. Louis placed his booted foot on the man's neck. "And this is the end that will befall those discontented with our succession." Abruptly, he shifted his weight and the neck beneath it snapped. Liliane could not hide her horror, which Louis instantly noticed. "Weak-stomached, milady, or entertaining second thoughts? Our uncle relies on you, after all."

"Have your fun, Louis," she said coldly. "Your amusements were ever cheap."

"Certainly, your favors have never been to my taste," he retorted. "I have merely bedded you to please my uncle."

As a choked gasp went up from the retainers, Liliane came to her feet, her face white with fury. "Liar! I would sooner befoul myself with some loathsome toad!"

"Fie, Cousin," purred Louis, "to pretend virtue when all present know you have it not." He mounted the dais and stuck his face out to nearly touch hers. "Love me, Cousin, or"—he turned to gesture flippantly at the dead body On the floor—"leave me."

"I will leave you, Louis," she hissed. "Take my chair; you will be a dwarf in it!" With calculated daring, she thrust him aside and left the dais.

His hand went to his sword and trembled there; then it slowly relaxed as she passed between the ranks of guards. She was his prisoner; when Jacques arrived, Louis had no doubt of her fate. She would be his, like a butterfly given to a spider.

* * *

Alexandre sensed that something was wrong. He had made an open show on Jacques's border now for four days and nothing had happened. He had left the castle to Liliane as proof to her of his faith and trust. If Jacques intended to strike at him, he would have done so by now. He might instead strike at the castle; better to return there to protect it than parade aimlessly in the north. Before he left, he took the precaution of leaving more lookouts along his border. Trouble had to come; he smelled it with all the sensitivity of a wolf trained to cheat death.

But he did not smell it at Castle de Brueil until too late. The castle looked the same as always, its peaceful gray walls russet-capped in the late afternoon sun. Autumn leaves swept across the meadows like dancing minstrels; the bare trees were gray spikes against the blue-green pines. He loved no other right on earth as he did that of his lands . . . with Liliane's hair floating on its sea winds.

The helmed castellans greeted him as usual with a brief lift of their weapons as he rode across the lowered drawbridge. Dismounting in the courtyard, he gave his reins to his squire and headed for the hall. Except for the men on the wall, the castle was nearly deserted; everyone would be at dinner.

Just past the great doors, he halted, peering through the ruddy, slanting light with startled apprehension. The hall was empty except for a lone figure sitting in his chair at the far end. Even at a distance, he knew that figure was not Liliane. In another few steps, he saw that it was Louis. He whirled to guard his back, only to feel a smashing blow against his head. Blackness dropped about him like a cloak; the last thing he heard was Louis's grunt of laughter.

Alexandre awoke to the sting of smoke in his nostrils and a sawing ache at his wrists. Sensing that he might be wise not to awaken too quickly, he peered dazedly through his eyelashes. The dungeon torture chamber, unused since his father's death, came slowly into focus. The hideous torments he had seen there as a child had made me sealing of the room the first command of his regency as count. He might have guessed Louis's first act would be to reinstate torture.

A chill of apprehension trembled along his spine. Louis would pick him apart like a fly on a needle. What had he done to Liliane? He hated her and enjoyed only whores, but to rape her out of sheer spite would be well within his ken. She might be already dead. Alexandre knew that a quick death would be her more merciful fate.

Dread settled upon him. He had heard tales of Louis among the serfs of the countryside; those near Castle de Signe lived in constant panic. Louis was a killer as cold as a shark. No conscience troubled him, no enjoyment of sadism for its own sake. Louis killed and maimed for one reason: to create terror and thereby increase the family power. For all purposes, Jacques ruled the family, but Louis was his shadow, and even Jacques knew that shadow would one day attempt to overwhelm him.

Such a lethal danger could intimidate men much more clever and often more powerful. Linked with Jacques, Louis was dangerous. Alexandre had no doubt that Louis would one day bring Jacques down if Jacques did not destroy him first. Without Jacques, Louis's day of absolute power would be short, but the dead he left behind would not be upon the earth to celebrate his fall.

Abruptly, a vicious jab at his sore shoulder caused his eyes to snap open. Louis's dark, stubbled face was two inches away. "Couldn't let you nap the day away, milord, and delay the entertainment." He smiled without humor. "Which would you first prefer: the heated pincers at your genitals or at your tongue? Shall I have an ear, an eye? Tell me, milord. Now that I am your host and you my guest, I would render you all hospitality.''

"Where is Liliane?" demanded Alexandre. "What have you done with her?"

Louis's heavy brows lifted. ' 'Why, nothing. I confess to being preoccupied with you. Shall I call her?"

"Let her go, Louis. She will do you no harm in Spain. Take this demesne, but set her and the retainers free." He knew his pleas were pointless, but he had to try. "Philip will demand an accounting if you kill both of us and seize the retainers, as well. Use a little discretion.''

Louis pretended to mull the suggestion over. "So you think I should kill you and call your death an accident . . . taking care, of course, to reduce you to such screaming, tiny pieces that even the fish could not recognize you as human, far less Count Alexandre de Brueil. With you having 'drowned at sea,' I might send your lady to Spain, after having her deliver her child at Castle de Signe. Brought up by Signes, your heir might prove excellent assurance of her silence." He watched Alexandre's face tighten in cold rage. "Then again, cutting the child from her now would be so much simpler; two at one blow, so to speak. Witnesses and stray claimants are such a nuisance. With all of you silenced, my uncle might tell King Philip anything he liked." Alexandre surged against the chains, his face filled with murder. Involuntarily, Louis backed away, then caught himself. He waved sharply to the guard. "Bring the Lady Liliane." When Alexandre swore at him, Louis kicked him in the stomach.