Lady Gallant (36 page)

The birds of Falaise fell quiet in the afternoon heat. Dragonflies floated above the moat in lazy somnolence, and the porter at the gate nodded as the cutpurse Inigo Culpepper walked his horse under the portcullis. The courtyard was deserted except for a stable boy who swatted at gnats from his perch in the shade beneath the eaves. Inigo roused the boy with a gentle kick on the shoulder and left the horse with him.

Inside, the smell of old ale and rancid food recalled Mag's ordinary, and the dirty bodies strewn about completed the resemblance. Inigo picked his way through the mess, both human and culinary, and grabbed a handful of scraggly hair from the lord's table. Simon Spry's red nose snored at him.

Shaking the head, Inigo cursed at the horse thief. "Where is he?"

"Aw…" Simon muttered.

"Where is he? Are the guards like this, too?"

Simon slapped Inigo's hands away and burped. "Nan."

"Speak up, you son of a whore."

"Nah, you know he doesn't 'low drink on duty. He just had them hide theirselves so's not to get underfoot."

Curling his lip, Inigo ground out his question again. "Where is he?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"What are you talking about?"

"The master, he couldn't sleep. Wandered the house all night. In a taking, he was, cursing and pacing, pacing and cursing. Kept me awake, he did. Round dawn he took himself off on foot."

"You let him go alone?" Inigo fastened a hand around Simon's neck.

"Piss on yourself, Inigo. He didn't want company, and I like my head on my shoulders and my cock between my legs, so I didn't follow, thank you."

Shoving the thief away, Inigo asked, "Which way did he go?"

"Into the forest, but—"

"He's back," Christian said.

Inigo whirled to face the young man standing in a pool of light and dust motes. He was studying the dead tree branch that dangled from his fingers.

"Kit," Inigo said.

Christian poked a cup on the table with the branch. "Did you find the gardener?"

"Hext did, but the simpleton doesn't know who gets the messages."

"You used sufficient persuasion to be sure?"

"Of course," Inigo said. "And we found out where he leaves the ciphers. At a printer's shop near the palace owned by a fat hedgehog named Hugo Paderborn. But Hugo's gone to visit his sister in Wales."

"Tedious."

Inigo nodded, eyeing his master.

Christian gave the cup a final poke, sighed, and dropped the tree branch. "Have the steward send word to Castle Montfort to make ready for my wife's arrival. I'll send her in a few days, and we will go back to London."

Inigo cast an inquiring glance at Simon, who shook his head and fell to studying the congealed fat in a trencher. The sound of a door slamming and the tap of booted feet forestalled questions. Blade raced into the hall with his fencer's stride and grabbed Christian's shoulder. He twisted the older man around to face him and shook a fist at him.

"What have you done to her now, you piss-sucking blight?"

"Not now," Christian said.

Blade grabbed Christian bodily, only to be hauled back by Inigo. Blade threw Inigo off and went for Christian again. This time Christian was ready and kicked the youth lightly in the chest. Blade bounced, ending up in Inigo's grasp.

"Let go of me, whoreson," Blade said, struggling. "He's done something to Nora, and I'm going to make him send for a leach."

Snatching Blade from Inigo, Christian brought the youth's face close to his. "What mean you? She has sickened?"

"You didn't know?"

"No," Christian said. He released Blade and left the hall at a run.

Clearing the stairs to Nora's chamber three at a time, Christian was in her room before the others mounted the staircase. She was alone, a small anthill beneath the rough linens that covered her bed. Her black hair, snarled and dull, lay strewn over the pillows. She made no sign that she heard him enter. She hardly moved at all, but as he neared the bed, he could see that she was awake.

He paused at the bedside, staring at her in silence. A steady flow of tears washed over Nora's cheeks and down her neck. Silent tears. His hand inched toward her face, but he pulled back as Blade and Inigo ran into the chamber.

Blade perched beside Nora and touched the back of her hand where it lay on the covers. "She's ill."

"No, I'm not ill." Her faint yoice made them all start. "It's just that I can't stop crying. I've tried. You must believe me. I've tried so hard to stop, but I can't, and I don't know what to do." She closed her eyes.

Christian heard a sigh, a sigh that turned into a faint, long moan, and dread snaked through his gut. He touched Nora's arm, and she cringed. Snatching his hand back, he made his voice steady.

"How long have you been like this?"

"I don't know," she said between sobs.

Without another word, Christian stalked out of the chamber and into Mag's. The woman was lying sprawled on her own bed, a wet cloth covering her eyes. Christian jerked the cloth from her face and hauled her upright by one arm.

"I told you to watch Nora," he snapped at her. "Why didn't you call me when she started crying?"

Mag patted his cheek. "Weren't her tears the whole purpose of last night's masque?"

"There's something amiss with her, and you know it."

"But you wanted to see her suffer. You said you wanted vengeance."

Christian swallowed and looked away from Mag's derision. "How long has she been this way?"

Mag shrugged. Snagging a handful of the woman's hair, Christian repeated his question slowly and with precise enunciation.

"How long has she been this way?"

"Since before I locked her in after you left, I suppose. Ow, Kit, my hair."

"Fetch wine. Tell the steward I want his best, and clean cloths and water." When Mag didn't move, Christian lifted his hand. The gesture was enough to send the woman scrambling for the door.

Returning to Nora's chamber, Christian noted that Inigo was gone and that Blade now held her hand.

"How haps it that you concern yourself with my wife?"

Blade scowled at him. "Even I can recognize true goodness when I see it. You married her and turned animal. If you don't want her, let me take her away."

"What did she do, swoon over your charms and admire your prowess at killing? Did she—" He bit off his torrent of viciousness at the sound of Nora's moan.

Blade muttered soothing words to her, but she turned her head away and cried softly. With a shaking hand she tried to stifle the sounds coming from her throat. Blade lifted hate-filled eyes to Christian.

"Get you gone, for mercy's sake. Can't you see what your presence does to her?"

Pressing his lips together, Christian nodded to the youth and quit the chamber. As he stepped onto the landing, he heard footsteps pounding up from below. A rapid clatter joined them, and immediately after, a small missile plowed into his stomach.

"Come back here, you little plague!" Inigo yelled from the floor below.

Christian pulled the golden-haired arrow from his middle and set it before him. "How did you get here?"

"On a horse." Arthur scraped a bow at Christian before sticking his chin out, staring up at the man above him. "We married you, but you left me behind. I asked the Earl if I could come to my lady again, and he gave his permission."

" 'We'?"

Arthur tugged on the surcoat of his livery and poked his head to the side to peer past Christian. "We haven't ever been married before, but the Earl explained that married folk like to be alone. But I—I haven't been away from my lady in a long time."

Inigo plunged up the stairs. "There you are, you little sneak."

"I'll take care of Arthur," Christian said. "You go to the kitchens and help Mag."

"Come with me." Christian took Arthur's hand. It disappeared in his, and he was reminded of Nora's. "Your lady isn't feeling well, and you must give her cheer."

"Is it the sweat?" Arthur asked.

"No. She's a bit unhappy. I think she misses you."

Christian led the boy to Nora, allowing him to approach alone while he held back. He beckoned to Blade, and Blade slipped off the bed so Arthur could take his place at Nora's side. Arthur clambered up on the bed on all fours and stuck his face in front of Nora's. Before he could speak, Nora gave a cry, sat up, and hugged the boy to her. Arthur laughed and wrapped his arms and legs around his mistress.

Watching Arthur bury his face in Nora's neck, Christian held his breath. Nora cupped the back of Arthur's head with one hand and rocked from side to side. The room filled with soft murmurs of nonsense as the two conversed. Christian began to breathe again when he saw Nora's tears ebb. Glancing at Blade, he abandoned the two friends, with the youth in his wake.

Blade closed the door and studied the shiny lock in silence. Christian let out an unsteady sigh, propped his back against the wall, and stared at the ceiling.

"Think you this is the cure?" Blade asked.

"How could I have forgotten?"

Blade looked at Christian. "Pardon?"

"It was the shock and the betrayal. They drove me into madness."

"Forgotten what?" Blade asked.

"The puppies, the stray and starving cats, that great big heart compassed in a mite's body."

"You make no sense."

"I know. I haven't been sane since my wedding. God's blood, I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Just leave her be."

Christian laughed. "I can't, my comfit. You've asked me to do the one thing I find beyond my power. If you were to skewer me on a turnspit I still couldn't leave her be."

"You're lying."

"Shut your mouth." Christian slipped his arm across Blade's shoulders and forced him to walk toward the stairs. "You and I are going to eat and drink, and drink some more, and then mayhap I'll find some release from my 'foul yoke of sensual bondage.' "

After four days of Arthur's company and none of Lord Mont-fort's, Nora decided that only part of her heart had died. The most part, it was true, but some spark of life in that stubborn organ refused to drown under the flood of cruelty to which her husband had subjected her. On the fifth day she left her chamber.

Morning-crisp air jostled her spirits further, and she managed a smile as Arthur danced ahead of her, leading the way to a surprise. He pranced through the kitchens and out into the yard to a gate. This he opened and dragged Nora through. He pointed to rows of greenery and flowers.

"A herb garden, my lady. Cook says she hasn't had time to tend it, what with all the company the master brought. Lord Montfort says it's ours for as long as we want it."

Pain stabbed her chest at the mention of her husband, but
Nora was careful not to show Arthur her discomfort. He was so excited at having found a way to cheer her, and was skipping up and down the rows of plants, pointing as he went. He stopped by an herb with thick dark green leaves.

"Look, my lady, rosemary. And there's mullein and hore-hound and valerian, and over there is some tansy. And in the corner there's mugwort. I remembered all of those just from helping you."

She followed Arthur and put her hand on his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Such a dear friend you are."

"You are my very own lady. Nobody wanted me until you came."

"And I shall always want you, my Arthur." She smiled at the boy and knelt beside a broad-leaved plant. "Do you know what this is?"

He shook his head.

"It's betony. Some call it wood, and one uses it as a coun-termagick. I've read that two serpents will fight and kill each other if placed in a ring of it. I use it for headaches and to calm nerves."

"Let's find two snakes," Arthur said.

"No, you will not, sirrah. I shouldn't have told you that story, I can see."

"Would it work on frogs, or crickets?"

"I don't know, but this garden needs weeding, and I'd like to collect a few herbs. Would you fetch a basket and my gloves please?"

"Yes, my lady."

"And, Arthur, no snakes."

"My lady," Arthur said with a groan.

Nora watched Arthur disappear in the direction of the work sheds beyond the kitchen yard. When he was gone, she fumbled at her girdle for a kerchief and wiped her eyes.

As had often happened in the past several days, she had to fight to stave off the sudden memory of Lord Montfort and that woman. To her surprise, though, the lewd images no longer slashed deep cuts into her soul. After so much weeping all that remained was a dragging weariness and a muted ache, and sadness. She was numb.

Arthur's shout penetrated her numbness, sending her sprint-ing for the work sheds. As she ran, she could hear cursing and bellowing, a common occurrence when her page was about. She burst upon a scene of chaos.

Two gardeners were prying Arthur and another lad apart. Nearby lay an overturned wheelbarrow and two discarded shovels. As Nora skidded to a stop, the gardener lad kicked his captor's shin. The man yelped and released the boy at the same time Arthur slithered free. Nora lunged at the two, for the gardener's boy was larger and heavier than Arthur. She was too late. Arthur butted the older lad in the stomach and ran. Dodging the gardeners, he scrambled up a wood pile and onto the stone wall that surrounded Falaise.

"Arthur," Nora shouted, "come down at once!"

Sporting a cut lip, sweating, and furious, Arthur grabbed a log and hurled it at his opponent's feet. The wood hit the boy on the toes, and the lad jumped, falling backward to land on his rump.

"He called you a name," Arthur said to Nora. "No one calls my lady names, you son of a weasel."

"Donkey's arse!" the gardener boy yelled. He shoved himself to his feet and hurled a stone at Arthur.

Nora cried out and hurtled for Arthur as the stone hit him on the side of the head. He crumpled, falling into her arms. Nora sank to the ground, oblivious to the crowd that had gathered in response to the din. Cradling Arthur, she brushed aside bloodied locks of hair to reveal a gash in his temple. She pressed her kerchief to the wound.

"What passes here?"

She heard the voice of her tormentor but didn't look up. "He fought with another lad and was hit by a stone," she said. "Help me take him to my chamber."