Fire Dance (46 page)

"But such fear can paralyze an army. Many would not dare fight against Satan, for fear that he would capture their souls."

Rufus now pressed both hands together, prayer-like, and took them to his lips. The king's eyes took on a deadly gleam and Alain suddenly knew what he was about to say.

The words came from both of them at once.

"Let's dig it up."

CHAPTER 24

"Only you could be so blasphemous to think of such a thing, Sire. But then, Fyren's grave has no blessing upon it. Aye. Let's do it." Alain almost laughed and ran after the king as he scurried down the stone steps.

"You've seen the look on these men, Alain. Think you they believe Fyren is a mere charlatan? We must defeat him, yet our soldiers fear him more than death. We'll show him for the hoax he is. You have to be right. Let's get about it."

Suddenly energized again, Rufus called to his soldiers as he ran through the lower bailey. They had hoped for a moment's rest after the night's march, but Rufus led his men down the hill after his host, past the church and village, and on to the pasture where the earl had been buried. Their faces paled as Rufus explained their task, and Alain surmised they had already heard the story of Fyren's sudden reappearance. Alain sent for Father Hardouin to help dispel their fears.

Rufus was right, the rumors had to be laid to rest. But if they found what they sought, would the soldiers interpret it right, or would it seem like more of the Devil's work?

Rufus was a hard taskmaster, but his own eagerness overwhelmed him. When the soldiers did not dig fast enough, he grabbed the shovel and dug, himself. Out of compassion, Alain called upon his villeins to step in as the soldiers tired. Rufus's energy seemed to grow instead of flag.

"We shall find rocks," Rufus announced with confidence, now standing aside as the villeins and soldiers dug.

"How so, Sire?" one dared to ask, as he paused to wipe away his sweat.

"It is known that Fyren lives, yet those who carried the coffin attest to its weight. I say he never died, but weighted the coffin to fool those who carried it."

"Could it not be the Devil's work, to put stones in the dead earl's place, once he rose?" asked a nearby knight.

"Why? Since he was already presumed buried, none would care to know the casket's weight. I tell you, the coffin contains rocks, and Fyren left his death chamber in the night, alive, before the coffin was buried."

"Yet there are those who saw him dead."

"Aye. And many of us have seen those thought dead arise from the battlefield, have we not?" Rufus's blue eyes danced with excitement. "And if he had such power, why hide it?"

"I agree, Sire," said Father Hardouin. "Satan and his minions are deceit incarnate. They pretend to powers they do not have. Though Satan is much to be feared, he cannot overcome God and the Savior."

Several men nodded silently, quietly tucking away their skepticism, and resumed their grim task. A shovel clanked against something hard. With a few more scoops they uncovered the casket's top. With renewed energy, the soldiers dug away to bare the coffin's sides.

"Get down there and open it," Rufus said.

The soldier stared at the coffin as if he faced Satan himself.

"I will do it," Alain said, and grabbed the prybar as he jumped down into the grave beside the casket. With several powerful strokes, he forced the top and bent it back.

He smiled with grim satisfaction. Rufus smiled broadly.

"Boards," Alain said. "Oak planks wrapped in cloths, to keep them from shifting or making noise."

"Aye," said Rufus. "Not even the Devil himself would go to such trouble, save to deceive."

At last exhaustion claimed Rufus, and he trudged wearily back up the hill, yet his elation triumphed. "So Fyren is but a man after all, Alain. A man, we can defeat."

Alain smiled. "Even a Devil's son, we could defeat, Sire, for God has declared for us. Father Hardouin has called for Fyren's death, and he shall have it. I shall slay him, myself."

"And once free of him, I march on Carlisle."

Alain dismissed Rufus's arguments that he should not take the chamber of newlyweds. "Newly wedded couples care not a whit for their environs, Sire. A stable of straw is no less fair."

"Ha. I vow you'd tumble her there, just as quickly."

"I intend to try it, Sire."

Rufus's beefy hand slapped Alain's shoulder. But he objected no more and offered his campaign tent in exchange as he closed the chamber door. For though he was a tough and hardened campaigner like his father, Rufus also had a fondness for the softness of a feather bed. With a broad smile that came from thinking of the coming night, Alain left the king and hastened down the stairs, through the hall to the bailey.

As he strode toward the kitchen where Melisande labored with her chemicals, the folk of the bailey watched him with frightful eyes, and skirted the kitchen with spacious boundaries. He suspected they had liked his odd wife better when they had thought her merely possessed by demons.

But he had seen her magic, and understood it to be exactly what she called it, mere knowledge that ordinary men lacked. With a smile born of anticipation, thinking how she would look bending over her task, he stepped inside the doorless entry.

A startled shout met him, and fire flashed with a roar. Instinctively, he stepped back as the red tabby cat dashed, screeching, past him. Alain rushed to her, fearing she might have been burned, but instead found her staring at the meager blaze that remained.

"I do not have it yet," she said, and the words came out as a sigh. "I have tried several things. This started out well enough, but- As you see, it did not last."

"It was an impressive start. Mayhap, you should leave out the amber."

"It is better with it. Nay, it seems to make no difference. And its purpose is to bind the fire where it lands. I cannot think, Alain, what is missing. Mayhap 'antithesis' is a puzzle of some sort, a symbol, or even a pun?"

How could he help her? He had no knowledge whatsoever of Greek. "What think you, then? What sort of symbol?"

She looked weary, no longer infused with that burning ambition he had seen before. "I know not. But I must find it. The formula is worthless without it."

Alain wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace and nuzzled at her earlobe. As her arms also encircled him, he gave her a promising kiss. "Then come for a walk with me, love, and take your mind from this for a while. Tonight, we will take our love to the king's tent, as I have given him our chamber. So let us go look at it."

"Mayhap in a little while," she replied. "I have another idea to try."

He released her, his sigh a copy of hers. But he understood her need, and stood aside to watch instead.

She talked aloud as she worked, not truly speaking to him or to herself, as if the words confirmed process, gave meaning to the search. "I have tried rearranging the order of things, but it makes no difference I can see. Mayhap if I have the time to let the slurry for the lightning powder dry, it could be what we desire. It could be antithesis to any number of things. Serenity, mayhap?"

"What has serenity to do with Greek Fire?"

"I see naught. It was not such a good idea, was it?"

"No matter. It will come."

She bent again to her task, taking the small jar of powder in one hand and the second of thick liquid in the other.

"De Crency?"

Alain turned to the entry, where a strange knight stood.

"Aye?"

"I cannot find the king, De Crency."

"You need not worry. He has gone to the lord's chamber to rest. You did march through the night."

"Aye. But did not Rufus take any of his knights with him?"

"I did not think he had need of them."

"But the castle is not secure. It is said the magician gathers his minions beneath our very feet. I do not understand why you sent the gift and encouraged the king to come, if it is so unsafe."

"I have not known Rufus to cower from- what gift?"

"The purple cloak, lord, which you sent to him."

Alain spun around, caught Melisande's horrified stare. "Did you not destroy it?"

"I thought you took it back. You did not?"

"Nay."

"Fyren!" they both said at once.

"He must have poisoned you to get it."

"And it is Rufus he is after, now!" she cried. "He has used the cloak to lure him here. Hurry! We must warn him!"

With her jars still in her hands, she ran after Alain through the bailey, the hall, and up the stairs. Alain pounded on the oak chamber door. Pounded again, shouting at the king to answer. Shouts, great howls of rage rang out from the chamber. Alain juggled the latch, but it would not lift from its slot.

"A prybar. I need a prybar."

"Go through the other chamber."

Melisande already ran to that room, found the door open, and ran in, Alain behind her. He fought the latch on the door between chambers until it snapped free. He yanked it open.

On the floor before them lay one of Rufus's household knights, moaning his last breath. Alain's eyes shifted instantly to the open hatch of the small secret chamber, as Rufus's outraged cries bellowed forth from below.

"They've taken Rufus. Run, Melisande. Get the guards."

"Not I." She turned to the astonished knight behind her. "You go."

She did not wait, but slid down into the hole behind Alain.

"Melisande, go back."

"This is my fight!"

"It is not! Go back!"

She ignored him. He could not stop to force her back. It would take an army to hold her back. His prayer for her safety was too quick for words, may God forgive him.

"Look. I knew there was another passage."

Narrow steps, lit by fire from below, spiraled around and down. His mind conjured up an image of Rufus struggling, his legs and arms flailing, bracing against a passage so narrow that he wondered how they had managed to force Rufus through it. It would take the very Devil to do that to Rufus. Aye, that was the problem, was it not?

Rufus's muffled shouts still rang with wild curses that bounced off the rough-hewn rock. Alain scrambled down the stone steps with Melisande behind him, to the bottom. And Fyren.

A different chamber, but Alain could see beyond it into the one where Melisande had discovered Fyren alive. And there stood Dougal with his knights.

"By God's breath, you'll pay!" Rufus shouted, while the renegade knights sought to muffle him and cursed against Rufus's unexpected strength.

"Let him go!" Melisande's voice resounded like the crack of lightning through the small, rock-walled chamber.

Fyren looked up, and his eyes, startlingly blue like hers, gleamed with evil glee. "Ah, you have come back to me, my dear daughter. What is it I have that you want? This ugly, round dumpling that calls itself king?"

"Let him go."

Fyren released a deep, guttural chuckle. "And for what? You have betrayed me, girl."