Stuart, Elizabeth (43 page)

"I
suggest you put down your weapon and tell your friend to do the same. You might
live longer that way."

For
a moment Richard stubbornly held on to his sword, but he had no choice and knew
it. He couldn't give de Veasy an excuse to kill him—not with Elen depending on
him. With a heart full of bitterness and a muttered curse, he dropped his blade
to the floor.

***

Elen
paced her narrow room in a growing worry. She had heard distant shouts of alarm
and the footsteps of hurrying men. But when she opened the door to look, a
guard had gestured her inside. Now she flung herself onto the musty, unused
bedding in a fever of impatience.

What
was happening? She dared not hope it was Richard, but perhaps Bishop Vespain
had arrived after all. She could almost tell herself de Veasy would keep his word
and hold her safe for the Church.

Almost
but not quite. The memory of those moments between them in the shadowy corridor
of Gwenlyn, of his dark eyes studying her this evening had left her little
doubt of his plans. Besides, he would do anything to spite Richard.

Quick
footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. She had moved the dagger to her
sleeve, ready to hand. Now she pressed her arm to her side, the feel of the
blade giving her courage. Holy Mary, Mother of God, give her strength and wit.

An
impatient knock came against her door. It opened and Hugh de Veasy stepped into
the room. His eyes were bright, his face flushed with the excitement of
victory. "I see you've not yet retired. Good. We've matters to
discuss."

Elen
slid to her feet, thankful the bedcovers were mussed from her restlessness.
"I was asleep, my lord, but sounds in the corridor frightened me. Is there
trouble?"

"Trouble,
no... only a bit of good sport."

The
baron looked so pleased with himself, she almost expected to hear a purr of
satisfaction. "Oh? What sport?"

He
advanced toward her and she crossed her arms, her hand hovering near her
dagger. "You might be amused at that," he remarked. "It seems I
underestimated Sir Richard Basset. He followed us here, made it into Ambersly
by some ruse and got so far as the main stair." He grinned maliciously.
"But he's resting below at present in conditions well suited to his
station."

"Richard...
here?" Elen's eyes widened in a look of horror de Veasy took for fright.

"You've
no need to fear. He's quite helpless at the moment."

Elen's
throat was so dry she could scarcely swallow. Hugh de Veasy hated Richard and
the man had no honor. There was no guessing what he might do. And it was her
foolishness that had led Richard into danger. If there was any way she could
undo this day's evil, Richard wouldn't suffer for it, she swore. But first she
had to find him.

Mustering
a scornful look, she gazed up at de Veasy. "Fear? I've no fear of the man.
But what a pretty sight— Sir Richard Basset in chains. After months as his
prisoner, what I'd not give to see it!"

De
Veasy caught her chin, lifting her face toward him in the light. She suffered
his touch, forcing herself to gaze back at him evenly. "You may think me
vengeful, my lord, but Sir Richard has many sins against me for which to
answer. I've sworn to see him repaid."

De
Veasy released her. "Yes, I suppose you've earned the right. And it might
be amusing at that." He began to smile, a look that sent a shiver through
Elen. "Come, I'm sure Sir Richard will enjoy the company."

They
moved through the musty castle, down the stair through the first-floor
storerooms to the prison below. De Veasy paused outside a barred doorway where
two guards stood to attention. Taking a torch from one of the men, de Veasy
motioned for the door to be unlocked. "My lord Richard," he called
mockingly. "You've guests."

Elen
ducked through the low entrance, biting her lip to keep from crying out at the
sight. Richard lay bound hand and foot in a matting of filthy straw. And he was
obviously the worse for a beating.

The
flickering torchlight illuminated another body, and she glanced from Richard in
surprise. Owain? What was he doing here?

Merciful
God, what should she do? She glanced at the man beside her, calculating the
chance of killing him with one swift stroke. But she doubted the tiny blade she
held would do the job quickly enough. De Veasy would have time to call the
guard.

De
Veasy was staring at her expectantly. She had to say something. "What a
sight," she murmured, near choking on the words. "My lord de Veasy,
it exceeds my expectations."

The
baron gave an exultant laugh. "I thought you'd be pleased."

Suddenly
the image registered. Rope... Richard was bound with rope! She pressed the
dagger close. She had a weapon—a weapon Richard needed desperately.

She
glanced at the bound men, giving a contemptuous laugh. "So, Richard
Basset, Wolf of Kent. At last I see you brought low. You've much for which to
answer. The death of my family, the murder of the man betrothed to me, the
countless brutal indignities I've suffered at your hands. I take much pleasure
in this sight."

Richard
blinked and squinted into the light, unable to believe the voice he heard.
After the darkness, the sudden torchlight was blinding. He struggled to a
sitting position, ignoring the intense throbbing in his head. Elen? Could that
really be Elen saying those things?

His
head spun and his battered body ached with a vengeance. Perhaps she had gone
willingly with the priests. The memory of her and de Veasy together in Gwenlyn's
hallway danced before his mind's eye.

"You
were a fool, such a fool," Elen continued scornfully. "And as easy to
dupe as a child. I've longed to see you dead, but before God, this is better!
My only regret is that the baron's men were too gentle. I shall pray you soon
get what you truly deserve."

She
turned to de Veasy. Placing a hand on the hilt of his knife, she smiled up at
him. "I've sworn to spill this man's blood. A sacred oath, my lord. May
I?"

De
Veasy sent her a lazy smile. "No, my dear, we can't kill one of Edward's
knights... not like this, anyway."

"I've
no intention of letting him off so easily. My people know ways a man may die
for days."

De
Veasy grinned. This was even more entertaining than he had anticipated.
"Very well."

Elen
drew the knife from his belt. She moved purposefully across the floor, feeling
the baron's sharp eyes upon her. Hugh De Veasy was enjoying this but she dared
not make a mistake. She had to give him plenty to hold his attention.

Ignoring
Owain's frowning gaze, she halted before Richard. "I'd cut your throat
with this, but 'twould be too easy," she hissed. "I hope you live
long, Richard of Kent. I hope you live long to suffer as I have!"

She
placed the point of the knife against his throat, bringing it to his jaw with a
steadily increasing pressure. His eyes met hers, fragments of green narrowed
with disbelief.

She
steeled herself against that look. "This is for Enion," she bit out,
drawing the knife lightly across his jaw until the blade dripped red. "I
swore an oath to spill your blood. Now I have done so!"

Richard
winced as the blade tore bruised flesh, but the hurt was nothing to the
confusion whirling through him. It didn't make sense. Her hateful words went on
and on, but he closed his eyes, trying not to listen. What was it Giles had
told him about the Welsh and their blood feuds? Holy God, could he have been
wrong? Could he possibly have been this wrong?

Elen
moved slowly behind him, her knife point pricking his neck, toying with his
hair. He remained stubbornly silent, trying to summon the saving energy of
hatred, of revenge. But it didn't come.

All
at once something fumbled into his bound hands. He felt the sharp edge of cold
steel against his palm and his fingers closed around a blade. A dagger—she was
slipping him a dagger.

It
was an act, this whole thing a ruse to distract de Veasy and slip him a weapon.
Sweet Jesus, what a performance! The girl was magnificent.

His
eyes shot open, but Elen was already halfway across the floor. She handed de
Veasy his knife. "By your leave, my lord, I wish to return upstairs now.
I've seen what I came for and the stench here sickens me."

De
Veasy nodded. With a word to a guard, he directed the man to escort her above.

Richard
listened avidly, every muscle straining for release. He would be out of this
cursed cell in short order, and now he knew where to find Elen. She turned at
the door and met his eyes. It was all he could do not to laugh.

The
door swung shut and de Veasy turned back to Richard. "A bloodthirsty
little savage, isn't she—but a lady quite after my heart. I shall have to keep
all knives out of her reach once we're wed."

Richard
found his voice at last. "Edward won't let you get away with this. He has
other plans for the girl."

"Edward
will have nothing to say in the matter. I greatly fear my passions are about to
get the better of me. By the time my good friend the Bishop of Lanwort arrives,
he'll have to make all right by performing a wedding." De Veasy smiled
thinly. "Naturally, I'll pay Vespain a fine penance of silver for my sins.
By the time I show my face in England, it's my hope the lady will be large with
child. And what will your precious Edward do then?"

Richard
held his tongue, longing to plunge his knife into de Veasy's throat.

"As
you say, nothing." The baron chuckled. "I've friends at
court—powerful friends. But take heart, Richard. If the child's a boy, we'll
name him in your honor."

Again
Richard said nothing. He was already sawing feverishly on the ropes binding his
hands.

De
Veasy moved toward the door. "I'll leave you now to darkness and solitude.
I must see to my bride-to-be." He paused once more, turning back to
Richard triumphantly. "Think about it, Basset. I want you to think about
it all night."

The
door had scarcely closed when Richard tore his hands free of his bonds.
Catching up the knife, he hacked viciously at the tight cords binding his
ankles. "That whoreson!" he snarled. "If he touches her, I'll
kill him!"

"Aye,
but slow, lad, slow," Owain growled. "I'd have him gelded and long in
the dying."

Richard
slid across the filthy straw, fumbling for Owain in the darkness. He found the
man's bound hands, and quickly cut through the cords. "She passed you a
knife!" the Welshman exclaimed. "By Our Lord Savior, I couldn't make
out the mischief she was brewing!"

"Yes,
she passed me a knife, but now she hasn't a weapon," Richard responded
grimly. "We'd best make haste."

It
was an easy matter to trick the guards into the cell. Once inside, Richard and
Owain fell on them with a vengeance. Hurriedly, they exchanged their torn and
bloodied clothing for de Veasy's livery. Then Richard locked the cell door and
they headed up the stairs.

No
one called a challenge as the two moved purposefully along the corridors.
Richard pulled his cap low to hide his bruised face, but it was all he could do
to keep himself to a walk.

They
made the eastern stair without mishap. Hurrying along the corridor, they came
at last to a guarded doorway. "We've urgent news for the baron,"
Richard told the soldier. "Is he within?"

The
man nodded. "But not to be disturbed." He grinned and raised his
eyebrows. "He's got a pretty piece of work this night, for sure!"

Richard
shook his head impatiently as Owain moved a half-step nearer. "But this is
important. Look here, man—"

Owain
threw a muscular arm around the guard's throat, half lifting him with an
efficient upward thrust of his forearm. The man slid to the floor without a
sound.

Easing
the door open a few inches, Richard glanced inside. De Veasy had his back
toward the entrance while Elen faced him defiantly, a low table between them.
She glanced up, her eyes meeting his for a pregnant moment. Her attention
shifted smoothly to de Veasy and she gave no sign she had seen him.

Richard
crept through the doorway. Elen raised her voice, covering the slight sound of
his footsteps. "You'll never make me agree! Never!" she cried.
"And the bishop can't marry a woman with a knife to her back."

"Crude
tactics, my dear. I've little use for such," de Veasy remarked. "I've
no doubt I'll have your consent before the night is out."

"You
wouldn't dare! I'm Edward's—"

She
broke off as Richard launched himself across the floor. He struck de Veasy and
the two tumbled to the floor, kicking and pummeling each other as they rolled
beneath the table.

Richard...
thank God! She'd not dared to hope he'd come so soon. She gazed frantically
about for a weapon to aid him, but the fight was short-lived. Within seconds,
de Veasy lay quiet, Richard's knife at his throat.

"Now
we'll see who pipes the tune, my fine lord. And I promise, it'll be no song to
your liking," Richard snarled. "Before God, I'll see you die by
inches!" He glanced toward Elen, his fury barely controlled. "Has he
hurt you?"