Fire Dance (45 page)

"Surely Fyren knew that."

"But he thought of himself as the aggressor. Mayhap he never expected he could be attacked. There were things about the old monastery that stood here before he came that I think he valued more. Melisande says he has an intense fear of fire from a childhood accident. Stone buildings already complete must have had enormous appeal to him. Even more, the caverns below, where he could conduct his crimes in secret. The caverns are much feared by the local folk. We think he did not share the secret of the hidden passages with any but his daughter or his closest minions. And she believes there are more places which she does not know. The bolt hole was known of course, but by few."

The king nodded. "So he added the curtain wall and that new tower to the already existing buildings. Aye, I see it, Alain. If he had built a new place with passages into the caverns, too many people would know of them. But to take over one where they already existed– a different matter. He could preserve his secret. Show me this bolt hole."

Alain took the king down the narrow stone steps and across the upper bailey. Rufus ignored those who bowed before him, for his attention was riveted elsewhere.

Alain led the king through the temporary portal in the ground floor of the tower, past hoards of grain and other staples to the hole.

Rufus climbed over the mass of debris and blocks of stone to peer inside. "I agree. Far too vulnerable. I cannot imagine giving the enemy access directly into the tower. Unless, as you say, such access is not known. But Fyren knows, and he is your enemy. So block it."

Rufus turned away from the bolt hole. He stopped abruptly, and his nose wrinkled up, twisted about on his face. As he brought a cloth up to his nostrils, Rufus's head reared back, then launched forward in an enormous sneeze, followed by another, then another.

"I must be out of here," the king said, snatching words between sneezes.

Alain hurried him back the way they came, furtively scanning for the red tabby. He did not see him. Any number of things might set Rufus to sneezing. Dusty, moldy places seemed ofttimes the worst. But the cat- Back in the bright sunshine, Rufus blew his nose and sniffed.

"Now, let us go see what your lovely wife conjures up."

Alain stiffened minutely at the allusion to witchcraft, but knew Rufus meant no ill by it. Rufus, who held little stock in the mysteries of the Church, was as skeptical of sorcery. Alain pointed to the kitchen.

"Ah, my Lady Melisande," said Rufus. Affection dripped from his voice in a way Alain had never heard. It was not the sort to provoke a man's jealousy, for Melisande had captured Rufus's affection long before he had ever seen her, coming from that left over from his boyhood enchantment of her mother.

Melisande looked up from the crockery bowl she held, and gave Rufus that crooked little half smile she had only recently acquired. When she caught her husband's eye, she became suddenly radiant, her broad smile lit by the brilliance in her eyes. He loved her all over again. Silently, anew, and more deeply.

"Welcome, Sire," she replied.

"What have you here, lady?"

Melisande displayed her array of cups and bowls, and the substances they contained. "I have all I need, save that one. And others that I thought might lend themselves to the formula. Amber, for example. I had the mason pound it to powder."

"Why?"

"As a powder, it mixes well with other things. But once lit, it should melt and cling to whatever it touches."

"A diabolical touch, lady. You make a formidable enemy."

She sighed. "But the missing ingredient still escapes me."

"But if the word is antithesis, might it not be something that does not fit?"

"Aye." Melisande nodded with a thoughtful frown. "But that could take us anywhere, and we have little time. It seemed more profitable to start with the most likely."

Once again, Rufus's red nose began to flare and sniffle. He held his cloth to it until the urge to sneeze subsided. Alain never felt pity for Rufus, save when his nose took one of its spells.

Nothing else had ever incapacitated the man, but when he began to sneeze, the spells sometimes went on and on for hours, not leaving even moments undisturbed for speech. To be such a warrior as Rufus, and be disabled by a sneeze. Nothing frustrated Rufus more.

Calmed at last, Rufus resumed his inspection of Melisande's containers. "This is what the text says? Might I see it, lady?"

With a grateful nod, Melisande handed the king the bound parchment pages, pointing out where she had found the formula.

The king scanned over the pages, frowning. "But that is not what the text says, lady. It merely speaks of a formula lost forever."

"Aye. But look within each letter. And note those which have an extra dot within them. A tiny blot that should not be there. Take each in the order it appears. That is where the formula lies."

Rufus' perusal intensified. His lips moved silently.

"I thought at first the letters had changed in some way I did not understand. But then I saw the pattern was short-lived, and I looked more closely."

Rufus nodded as he read, absorbing both at the same time. "I see it. Amazing." He mumbled aloud, encapsulating the letters into odd-sounding words, excitement building on his face. Then it sagged, and he let loose a feeble sigh.

"Antithesis. I too find naught else, lady. I am sorry. I had hoped to help. But it is a puzzle within a puzzle."

Again the king's red nose sniffed, and suddenly let loose a great outburst of a sneeze. Before he could summon relief, the next one hit. Rufus looked down at his legs where the huge red tabby cat braided itself around them. Amidst another round of sneezes, he stepped back, but the cat followed, purring loudly.

Melisande's round blue eyes filled with horror, and she leapt at the tabby. "Scat, Rufus! Shoo! Begone!"

The cat looked up at her as if she entirely misunderstood its mission, and continued rubbing at the king's legs.

"Rufus?" The king sneezed again, his whole body arcing back then forward.

Melisande's hand flew to her mouth. "Well, I– well, it is a cat, Sire– "

She waved hands at the offending beast, which only stood its ground and purred more loudly. Rufus's great sneezes grew louder, too, as he staggered with each blow. Melisande sprang after the cat, which scooted neatly out of her reach, then returned to its odd task of massaging the king's legs.

"Ungrateful wretch," she grumbled, and lunged after it again. The animal yowled as she caught the tail. It pulled itself free and bolted out of the kitchen.

"Rufus." The king glowered over the damp cloth he held to his nose as he blew.

Melisande looked like she expected the king's great sword to decapitate her. "I was very young, Sire, and I thought it a grand name for a cat. My mother had told me all manner of tales, and– oh dear."

Alain commandeered an unused kitchen rag to replace the king's soaked cloth.

"King Rufus, actually," Alain said casually, ignoring Melisande's horrified eyes.

"King Rufus?"

"I was very young, Sire. I had no idea– he is very red, you see."

"He thinks he owns the place," Alain added. "Watch him strut, Sire. Arrogant beast, isn't he?"

"God's Blood, you're right. I do not strut that way, do I, De Crency?"

"Nay, Sire, none but a cat can strut that way."

Rufus's low chuckle rumbled, and he brought the rag once more to his nose to blow it. "Strange creatures, cats," said Rufus. "Always take a fascination for the person least likely to welcome them. Damned if I don't collect them like a dead ox does flies."

Rufus took his leave of the lady, giving her an affectionate pat to her shoulder, and the men returned to the bailey.

"Ah, a rare beauty, Alain," Rufus said. "Only think, if I had been but a few years older, I might have been her father."

"She would have been somewhat different then, I'd think."

"Nonsense. She would have taken entirely after her mother, in any case. Oh, the eyes, mayhap. Such a stunning blue. But she is a bit, ah, how shall I say it?"

"No sense of humor," he finished for the king, and laughed. "It will change with time, I vow. These people have had little enough reason to laugh, and she, the least of them. I am glad enough that she has begun to smile."

"Not even smiles before, then?"

"Not a one."

"Well, I am glad I sent you, then, and not another." Rufus regarded him warily. "I suppose you have learned the truth?"

"But every time I think I have found the bottom of this sinkhole, another opens up. I cannot comprehend how a man could do such a thing to his daughter."

"A man who has given his soul to Satan can do anything evil."

"You knew all of it, then, Sire?"

The king strode on, silent for awhile. "Aye. The Lady Edyt sent a monk to me with a letter, calling upon the favor I had promised her many years ago. She told of Fyren's evil deeds, and begged for her daughter's rescue."

"But could you not have told me?"

Rufus released a sigh. "She begged me tell no one, to save her daughter the humiliation. Yet, a husband surely must discover the truth. I thought, too, that if I told you first, before you had opportunity to meet the lady, the truth might poison you to her finer qualities. I confess, though, I have had great fears of the rightness of my decision."

"And I cannot say now what I would have done then, for I can no longer imagine being without her."

Rufus smiled broadly. "That is what I hoped to hear, my friend. Mayhap I read too much into the fact that she was Edyt's daughter, but I did hope she was much like her lady mother. If Edyt could not be happy, I did wish it for her child."

They walked in silence, and Rufus resumed his keen-eyed inspection of the strange fortress and its faults.

"I think you are right to want to build elsewhere, Alain. When this conflict is done, of course. You have an abundance of cut stone already to help you. Now, this puzzle of Fyren. How much does he menace us?"

"To my knowing, he has only Dougal on his side, and mayhap a large number of Anwealda's knights."

"And Malcolm."

"Aye. But we have heard nothing of Malcolm's intentions."

"I came up from Durham, that I might hear of his movements, but I learned naught. He moves on Carlisle, I'll wager. And if Fyren could take this castle, he could pinch us between them."

"Fyren has lost much with Cyneric and Anwealda gone, but he does not linger here merely to watch."

"Aye. Your discovery of his presence was accidental. But it means he poses a greater threat than we imagined. Fear of him is widespread and does us great harm."

"They think him risen from the dead, and therefore with all the power of Satan."

"And you, my friend? What think you?"

"I know he had many powerful secrets. To the minds of ignorant men, this is Satan's power. But I say he never died."

Rufus stroked at his chin with his fist, and his bushy blonde brows knitted into furrows. "None is known to have risen from the dead, save by God's power. Lazarus, Christ, a few saints. If any had risen by the power of Satan before, we would have heard, for mankind is even quicker to pass on frightful news than good. So I say Satan has not the power, and you are right. The coffin is full of rocks."