So Worthy My Love (16 page)

Stone stairs ascended in a flight to the second floor and were buttressed by stout wooden balustrades on either side. A landing existed on the upper level and led to another flight of stairs.

“A poor camp,” Elise sighed wearily, “but at least ‘twill give us some shelter against the wind.” She faced Fitch, who had paused behind her. “How much farther is it to your master's house?”

“Yer pardon, mistress,” Fitch mumbled shamefacedly. “I fear this be the place.”

“The place?” Her brows came together in confusion. “What do you mean? Where are we?”

Fitch glanced about in wry repugnance and was well aware that this was no fit shelter for even one night, much less a place where a fine lady should have to live. “Faulder Castle, mistress. This be where the agent said ‘twas ta be found.”

Elise's bewilderment did not diminish. She found it difficult to understand the significance of
his words. This tumbledown keep could not possibly be where they were going to live. “Are you saying”—her tone was flat and frigid—“we'll have to stay here in this . . . pigsty?”

The servant hung his head and scrubbed a toe across a mound of dirt. “Aye, mistress. At least ‘til ‘is lor'ship arrives.”

“You jest!” Her voice was weak, and she could put no force behind her words.

“Yer pardon, mistress.” Fitch dragged off his hat and twisted it worriedly in his hands. He cleared his throat, as if his words were wont to stick there. “I fear ‘tis no jest. This be Faulder Castle for sure.”

“You really cannot expect me to stay here!” Elise cried incredulously. She was suddenly bone-tired, weary, and racked with despair at the thought of having to search out even meager comfort in such a den. “ ‘Tis not fit for swine!” An outraged anger began to burn within her and gave her words a stinging disdain. “Though your lord and master is wealthy and powerful enough to command the loyalty of the likes of you yea, even the captain of a Hansa ship . . . not to mention how many others . . . will you now tell me he cannot provide better than this for us? Must we make our home among the vermin?” She flung a hand toward the tiny-footed tracks tracing across the mounds of dirt and then looked about her in sneering contempt. “His humor must be supreme to send us to this pile of wreckage. I vow this hovel has to be the leavings of Charlemagne or some such lord who roamed these lands in eldritch times.”

Fitch wrung his hat in his hands as he sought to excuse his master from blame. “ ‘Twas none o' ‘is
lor'ship's doing, mum. 'E paid rents for a manor ‘ouse in ‘Amburg. ‘Twas the agent, ‘Ans Rubert, what made the mistake. 'E heard we'd been shipwrecked an' gave the ‘ouse, the very same ‘at ‘is lor'ship paid for, ta ‘is poor bewidowed sister.”

Elise gnashed her teeth in roweling vexation. “And I suppose the good Hans Rubert gave you this keep for a mere tuppence.”

Fitch hung his head and mumbled in agreement, as if reluctant to talk about the matter. “Aye, at least a tuppence.”

Elise set her hands on her hips and flared, “Then, my good man, you have paid a tuppence too much!” She swept her arm about in a gesture that encompassed the interior. “Look around you and tell me, if you can, how anyone can exist in this filth.”

Fitch crumpled the poor hat between his pudgy hands as he tendered a question for an answer. “May'ap if it were given a good cleanin'?”

Elise gaped at him in stunned disbelief and finally arched a delicate brow as she asked, “What say you, Fitch? Are you offering your services? Will you bend to your hands and knees and scrub the floors until they gleam? Will you repair the door? Scrub the hearth?” The man backed away in great discomfiture under her barrage of questions, but Elise followed, persisting. “Will you mend the windows and peg up the shutters, sweep the chimney, dust the rafters, and braid new rushes into mats to warm these stone floors?”

Fitch halted abruptly with the wall to his back and waved his arms helplessly as she pressed closer. “ ‘Ere be little choice, mistress. ‘Ti! ‘is lor'ship arrives, we ‘aven't the coin ta rent a finer house . . .

“Did you not receive the difference in rents from Hans Rubert?” she asked, already perceiving the answer.

Gingerly Fitch shook his head. “Nay, mistress, ‘Ans Rubert said ‘is lor'ship owed him a debt, and he wouldn't discuss the matter wit' a servant. I ‘ad ta take more coin out o' me purse ta pay ‘im for this, an' ‘twere the best I could afford, what wit' havin' ta buy supplies an' all for us.”

Elise glanced about her in growing dismay. For some strange reason she had held a vision of a wealthy hall wherein she would find a bath, a good meal, a private chamber, and a down-filled tick upon which to rest. She had been unable to sleep during the night, knowing they would soon be docking. The long wait in the cold after the hustle of the landing and the wearisome ride had done nothing to ease her discomfort. “ ‘Twould seem we have little choice indeed,” she murmured dejectedly, then sighed in doleful spirit. “On the morrow we must make an accounting of what coin you have left and what needs be done first. As for tonight, we will have to make do with what little comfort we can find.”

“A mighty task ta be sure, mistress,” Fitch commented dismally.

Elise shivered as a chilly draft swept through the hall. “A fire would help and perhaps something to block up those windows that cannot be closed.”

“Spence is settlin' the horses. I'll go an' fetch some wood an' bring in the supplies, then I'll see what's ta be done ta mend the windows an' shutters.”

The servant hurried out, and Elise lifted her gaze toward the higher level, wondering if the upper chambers were in any better condition than the hall. Taking up her skirts, she slowly mounted the stone stairs until she reached the second level. There a short hallway jutted off from the landing. The floor consisted of only two rooms, a tiny one as would be suitable for a lady's maid and a larger chamber. The portal of the latter stood slightly ajar, allowing a shaft of light that filtered in through the windows to pierce the gloom of the hall. The hinges creaked in rusty protest as she pushed the door wider, and in sharp repugnance she brushed aside the cobwebs and entered. Within the bedchamber the floor was covered by a thin layer of dirt rather than variegated ridges. The light was afforded by several tall, narrow windows whose lower panes of octagon-shaped colored glass cast variegated hues into the room. A few stood open, allowing birds and persistent drafts to enter, while beyond them the sagging shutters
flapped and rattled in the wind. Crudely chiseled beams supported the ceiling and from these, thick cobwebs swept downward, gracing the canopy of a bed that was closed in by solid panels of deeply carved wood at the head and the side against the wall. Tattered shreds of a feather mattress was all that remained to cover the rough planks of the box. Another canopy of sorts, constructed of copper and wood, sheltered a large, circular copper tub, which stood in the corner between the fireplace and the windows. Its once-elegant hangings were now merely long shreds of rotted cloth which fluttered in the errant breezes. Deeply
carved buffets, chests, armchairs, and armoires completed the furnishings that were untouched by anything other than dust and time.

Elise could well surmise that the distance and difficulty of getting to Faulder Castle had, at least for the most part, discouraged the ransacking and pillaging of the place. It was the neglect of years that had been the worst culprit in the destruction.

A pair of low stools, thickly crusted with dirt and grime, squatted before a large fireplace at the end of the chamber near where she stood. On the same wall, nearest the door, a huge tapestry hung from ceiling to floor, covering a section of wooden panels. A grayish layer obscured the needlework, and Elise reached out to examine it to see how well the fabric had withstood the ravages of time. Her hand raised a thick cloud of dust from its surface. Noticing a tasseled cord hanging beside it, she tugged on it, curious as to its purpose. The cord refused to yield to her small inquisitive jerk, and finally in exasperation she gave it a mighty yank. A screech of rusty nails, tearing loose from dry wood suddenly splintered the silence, bringing her head up with a snap. Without pause the tapestry, the rod on which it hung, and the carved wooden valance that covered both began a majestic descent as one mounting after another gave way, spilling a billowing cloud of choking gray dust in advance of their ponderous fall.

Elise gasped and stumbled back, barely noting the doorway that had a moment earlier been hidden by the tapestry as the weight of the cloth brushed heavily against her. In the next instant the air was
filled with a growing swarm of small, chittering, black creatures that flitted about her head in swift, staccato swoops and dives. The horror of the attack seized her, and she gave vent to an undulating scream as she twisted this way and that, seemingly forever confronted by their darting flights.

Rapidly thudding footsteps sounded in the hall, and Fitch burst into the chamber, the heavy splitting axe he carried held at the ready. It was apparent he had come to do battle with whatever fierce assailants the lady had encountered, be it bear or wolf . . .

“Bats!”
he bellowed as he skidded to a halt In the middle of the room, which incidentally was within center of the swarm of bats. As a hundred dread stories of the evil creatures welled up within his mind he swung the weapon with mighty sweeps and let out a roar in blood-red tones. “Fly, mistress! Get yerself safe! I'll ‘old 'em off!”

The broad axe head fairly whistled as it cleaved the air but amazingly very little else. The skirt of Fitch's jerkin flew out as he spun on a single foot, raking the weapon around again in great swooping strikes.

‘Twas Elise's good fortune to have fallen to the floor. From there she lifted her gaze and realized that her defender, in order to keep these fierce beasties from his eyes, had the latter tightly clenched. Recognizing her plight, Elise remained crouched as she crept to the doorway. When her breath returned, she noticed Fitch had gallantly cleared the room of the winged creatures and with such astounding success that no sign of the bats remained, neither sundered
wing nor splintered body. She called out to that mad dervish with the axe. “Cease your attack, Fitch! You've won the day!”

The man halted abruptly with his feet braced wide and the axe still at the ready, then he teetered as his eyes rolled wildly in his head. When he finally steadied himself and was certain no enemy remained, Elise deemed it safe to rise and dust off her skirts.

“Look, Fitch! They've fled you as demons would an avenging angel.”

“Aye, mistress,” he panted between gulps for breath. “An' well ‘ey would. I must've slain”—he searched about for evidence of his destruction and was somewhat confused by the lack of same— “at least a . . . ‘undred or so . . . ?”

“Aye, Fitch!” Elise laughed as the man wiped his sweating brow and leaned in puffing exhaustion against the haft of the axe. “But I fear the power of your blows has flung them all out the windows.” She gave a nod toward the panels of leaded glass. “For the sake of caution, you'd best latch the windows against their return. We would not want them to visit us again.”

“Ta be sure!” Fitch agreed heartily, and swiftly applied himself to the task, closing and securing all windows to prevent any future threat of their entry.

“This corner will have to be given a thorough cleaning,” she observed, indicating the filth the bats had left. Indeed, it promised to be a monumental task. The dung would have to be scraped from the walls and floor before the corner could be washed with stiff brushes and soapy water and the chamber
pronounced fit for occupancy. As for the tapestry, it would take a more careful cleaning.

Surreptitiously Elise contemplated the paneled door that had once been hidden behind the tapestry. She was most curious as to where it might lead, but allowing Fitch to notice her interest in the portal would only defeat her purpose, if indeed it might later provide a way of escape. It would be much better to investigate its secrets when she was alone.

Alas, Elise's thoughts were not entirely unique. Espying the same portal, Fitch made his own mental notes. It was to his benefit to establish a strongly fortified haven so his lordship would not have to question him later, and toward that end he formed the opinion that the door would have to be somehow secured, just in case the portal led to a secret passage and the lady would entertain ideas of leaving the castle at some later date.

Elise stepped into the hallway and swept her gaze upward, wondering what the higher chambers would offer for accommodations and just what she might find there. She was not yet ready to face another such adventure as she had just experienced and chose to invite an escort. “Come,” she bade Fitch. “Be my guard while I explore the rest of the keep. Should we have occasion to meet other beasties, I would prefer your strength closer at hand.”

Fitch straightened his jerkin and preened a bit at her words of trust. “Aye, mistress,” he agreed heartily. “ ‘Tis best we stick together.”

Willingly Elise followed the man up the wooden stairs which turned in long flights to an upper- story hall. To the left, the corridor held to the outer wall
where arrow slits had been strategically placed every few yards or so in the solid stone. On the right the hallway led as it did below to a pair of doors, the larger of which sagged from its hinges. The smaller opened onto a room obviously meant for a servant. Its stark furnishings and tiny dimensions were hardly much bigger than a dressing room or a privy.

Fitch tried to appear casual, but Elise noticed that the axe preceded him as he poked warily at the sagging door to push it wider. Tentatively thrusting his head through and finding no immediate danger, he put a shoulder to the thick plank and heaved the portal aside to allow Elise easy entry. Apparently these had once been the lord's chambers, for the quarters were comprised of a huge bedchamber, a dressing room, and a privy. The bedchamber might have once been habitable, but a gaping hole in the roof allowed a large expanse of sky to show through where the tiles gaped awry. Snow had accumulated in a small mound on the floor beneath the opening, and its icy form bespoke the chill that hovered in the chamber.