The Poisoned Serpent (11 page)

Three days later John Rye finally returned home. Lady Berta was sitting up, much recovered, and Hugh and Edith had stripped all the rugs off the walls of her bedroom and taken the blankets off her bed.

It had been Hugh’s idea to air out the rugs and blankets. Adela had been a great believer in the cleansing benefit of fresh air and sunshine.

He and the children were in the process of hanging these articles out in the cold sunshine when the master of Linsay came riding up to his manor and found the gate locked against him. He yelled to be let in.

Nicholas recognized his father’s angry shout. “It’s
Papa,” he said to Hugh. He dropped the rug he had been holding and ran to unbar the gate.

As soon as the wooden door swung open, a brown horse, shaggy with winter hair, came trotting into the courtyard. John Rye scowled down at his son. “What the devil is going on here?” he demanded loudly. “Why was the gate locked?” He looked around. “And where is everyone?”

Hugh left the rugs and began to walk toward the horseman in the courtyard. Iseult stayed close beside him.

“Papa always yells,” the little girl confided in a worried voice.

Nicholas was trying to explain things to an angry Rye, who was not listening. Instead, he was glaring suspiciously at the approaching Hugh.

“Who the devil are you?” the manor’s owner demanded as soon as Hugh was within twenty feet of him.

Hugh moved a little closer to the horseman, then stopped. He looked into the man’s angry blue eyes and said softly, “My name is Hugh de Leon.”

The effect of these simple words was galvanic. Rye’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open.

“
Hugh de Leon?
” he echoed in utter astonishment.

“That is what I said,” Hugh returned composedly.

Nicholas shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Hugh has been helping us, Papa,” he said. “Mama got sick and everyone ran away. Then Hugh came.”

John Rye ignored his son, nor did he ask after his wife’s health. Instead, he said to Hugh in a hard voice, “What the devil are you doing here?”

Iseult slipped her small hand into Hugh’s. He gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze.

“I came to see you, Rye,” he answered, “but when I arrived I found that, except for a single serving maid, your wife and children had been abandoned. I thought it would be best for me to remain with them until you returned.”

Rye gave a bark of scornful laughter. Then he swung down from his horse. Holding his reins in his hands, he looked around. “Where are the grooms?”

“They ran away when they thought Mama had smallpox,” Nicholas replied steadily.

His father went rigid. “
Smallpox?
Jesus wept, why didn’t you tell me? Is there smallpox in the manor?”

Rye looked over his shoulder at the gate, as if he would like to ride right out.

Hugh said ironically, “You can relax, Rye, you are perfectly safe. It seems that it wasn’t smallpox after all.” He lifted a mocking eyebrow. “I’m sure you will be relieved to know that your wife is almost completely recovered.”

John Rye grunted. Then he handed his horse’s reins to his son. “Take care of Jake,” he commanded. “I want to have a few words with Lord Hugh.”

Nicholas shot Hugh a troubled glance. “All right, Papa.”

Hugh looked down at the little girl standing so close beside him and said gently, “Go along with your brother, Iseult. Your father and I want to talk.”

She nodded, and the sleek braids that Hugh had plaited that morning bounced on her shoulders. “All right, Hugh.”

“Shall we go inside?” Hugh said to Linsay’s owner.

Without answering, Rye headed purposefully in the direction of the stone hall.

The two men walked into a sweet-smelling room
that was strewn with fresh rushes and herbs. A fire was roaring in the fireplace and the shutters had been opened to let in the sun.

John Rye looked around in bewilderment as if he did not recognize his own hall. Then he strode toward the fireplace and the chairs and benches that were set in front of it. He did not sit down, however, but stood holding his hands out to the welcome heat of the flames.

Hugh crossed the floor more slowly and sat in one of the two armchairs.

John Rye turned around and scowled at his guest.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said sarcastically.

Hugh did not reply.

The other man spread his legs and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “All right,” he said with belligerence. “You had better tell me what you are doing here.”

“I thought I already told you,” Hugh replied softly. “I came to see you.”

Rye’s scowl deepened. “What about?”

Hugh’s eyes were steady before Rye’s truculent stare. “I am inquiring into the death of Gilbert de Beauté. In order to make a thorough investigation, it is vital that I speak with all the knights who were serving in the castle guard at the time that he was killed. I tried to see you in Lincoln, but I was told that you had taken early leave of your duty.”

At that, John Rye’s eyes slid away from Hugh’s.

Hugh continued, “I was told that you had to go home because your wife was sick.”

“Well,” Rye blustered, “so she was!”

He was still refusing to look at Hugh.

“Aye,” Hugh said, “but she did not become ill until
after you left Linsay to pay a visit to William of Roumare.”

“She was sick before that.” Rye’s eyes suddenly swung back to confront Hugh’s as he recognized the trap he had just fallen into. “Who said I went to see Roumare?” he demanded.

Hugh ignored the question and continued to pursue his own line of thought. “That is not what I have heard. According to her serving maid and your children, Lady Berta enjoyed perfect health until she became ill with a fever three days
after
your departure from Linsay.”

Rye set his jaw. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it is despicable to question a man’s children behind his back?”

Hugh regarded him with detached curiosity. “What made you so anxious to leave Lincoln that you cut your guard duty short, Rye? Your wife wasn’t ill. What was it?”

John Rye moved away from the front of the fireplace and flung himself into the chair that faced Hugh’s. For a long moment, he stared at Hugh broodingly. “Oh, all right,” he finally admitted. “I went to see Roumare. I knew he would want to know what had happened to de Beauté and I thought he might look kindly upon the person who brought him such welcome news.”

A log fell off the fire onto the hearth and Hugh got up to push it back.

“You did not leave Lincoln until several days after de Beauté’s death,” he said as he gave the log an expert kick. “Surely Roumare had heard the news before you reached him.”

Dark red flushed into Rye’s face. “I thought I would take a chance on being first.”

With the log safely back where it belonged, Hugh returned to his chair. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

Rye’s face grew even redder. “You tell me, then,” he demanded. “Why do you think I went to see Roumare?”

“What do I think?” Hugh repeated thoughtfully. “I think you went to see him about the death of the Earl of Lincoln, all right, but it was not to take him the news.”

Rye’s lips tightened. His eyes looked suddenly guarded. “What was it for, then?”

“I think you know who killed Gilbert de Beauté, and it was not Bernard Radvers,” Hugh replied.

The only sound in the hall was the roaring of the fire.

The wary look in Rye’s eyes did not change. Finally he said, “And what if I do know something? What would such information be worth to you?”

Hugh dropped his gaze to hide the surprise he did not want to betray. This was not the answer he had expected. “What do you think it is worth?” he said slowly.

“A lot of money,” Rye returned. He showed his teeth in a sharklike smile. “More money than you have access to,
Lord
Hugh.”

“The kind of money that a man like William of Roumare can pay?” Hugh said.

Rye’s smile died.

“If you have information pertinent to the earl’s murder, you had better tell it to me,” Hugh said briskly.

“I know who killed Lord Gilbert all right,” Rye retorted stubbornly. “It was Bernard Radvers. And I’ll tell you something else, my lord. He killed the earl for you.” He pointed an accusing finger at Hugh. “Bernard wanted Hugh de Leon to be the next Earl of Lin
coln and that is the reason he killed the man who was standing in your way.”

Hugh said wearily, “If Bernard wanted me to be the next earl, he would have waited until after I was wed.”

“Bernard miscalculated,” Rye said.

Hugh stood up. “I think rather it is
you
who have miscalculated, John Rye,” he said. “William of Roumare is not the only one with money to spend for information. Think on that, and if you want to talk to me, you can find me in Lincoln.” He turned and strode across the sweet-smelling rushes to the doorway. “Please make my farewells to your lady wife.”

Nicholas and Iseult were waiting for him in the courtyard. As soon as he came out the main door of the hall, they ran to meet him.

“You aren’t leaving, are you?” Iseult asked anxiously.

“I am afraid that I must,” Hugh replied, fastening his cloak.

The little girl’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t want you to leave. I
like
you, Hugh. Please, won’t you stay with us for a while?”

Hugh paused and looked into the child’s blue eyes, then said with quiet patience, “Your mother is well now, Iseult, and your father is home. They will look after you better than I ever could.”

“No they won’t,” she replied tearfully. “They never talk to me like you do. All they ever do is tell me to do things.”

Hugh squatted on his heels so he was on the same level as the child. “I’m sorry, little one, but I can’t stay. I don’t belong here.”

Her lip trembled again.

“Don’t be a baby, Iseult,” Nicholas said.

Still on his heels in front of Iseult, Hugh turned his
eyes to the boy, who said manfully, “I am sorry you must go, Hugh, but I understand. Thank you for helping us these last few days.” Nicholas’s back was straight as a lance. His eyes were perfectly steady.

Hugh turned back to Iseult. “Nicholas will look after you, little one,” he said.

She sniffled. “He doesn’t know how to braid my hair.”

“You will soon have serving maids to do that for you.” Hugh rose to his full height.

“Will we see you again?” Nicholas asked, not quite able to hide his hopefulness.

“Someday perhaps,” Hugh returned.

“When I grow up, Hugh, I am going to marry you,” Iseult announced.

At that, Hugh smiled and flicked a gentle finger along her round, apple-blossom cheek.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Nicholas reprimanded his sister.

“A knight never calls a lady an idiot,” Hugh said gravely.

Nicholas sighed and took his little sister by the hand. “Thank you, my lord,” he said formally. “I hope we will see you again one day.”

“I hope so, too,” Hugh returned. And he headed for the stable to collect Rufus.

C
risten’s party arrived at the gates of Lincoln as dark was beginning to fall. It had not been a pleasant journey; Cristen had pushed the pace without mercy. Mabel Eliot, the young attendant she had brought along for propriety’s sake, was sagging with exhaustion. And while Thomas had faithfully seen to the safety of his charges, he had adopted a silent, distant manner to convey his disapproval of this outrageous venture he had been forced to join.

To Thomas’s intense annoyance, Cristen hadn’t appeared even to notice his displeasure. Her attention was totally concentrated upon getting to Lincoln as quickly as possible.

One of Thomas’s greatest worries had been that Hugh would not be in Lincoln when Cristen got there. If that should come to pass, where was Thomas going to lodge his lord’s headstrong daughter? He tried to soothe himself with the thought that surely the bishop would have a guest house.

He shuddered at what Nigel would say to him if he allowed his daughter to lodge at a common inn.

As they entered the town through the city gate,
Thomas turned to Cristen. “We have arrived, my lady,” he said with grim courtesy. “What do you desire to do next?”

“Find Hugh,” Cristen returned tersely.

“And how do you suggest we go about that?” Thomas inquired, his voice coldly and relentlessly civil. “You don’t know where he is staying.”

“We’ll try the castle first,” Cristen said. “If he’s not there, it’s likely that someone will know where we can find him.”

There was a moment of silence as Thomas regarded the delicate and lovely profile of his liege lady. She looks so fragile, he thought with a mixture of frustration and reluctant admiration. But underneath she’s adamant.

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied at last.

Mabel, who was usually a sunny-natured girl, almost whimpered. “Will we be able to get off our horses soon, my lady?”

“Very soon,” Cristen said.

Thomas bestowed a sympathetic look upon the woebegone Mabel, and she managed a weak smile in return.

The threesome rode on through the town. On either side of the main street, shopkeepers were closing up their stalls, and children home from school were playing games in the side streets. When they entered the Bail, they found it just as busy. It was almost time for the evening service, and various groups of townspeople and castle folk were on their way to the Minster.

Thomas tipped his head and looked up approvingly at the heights of Lincoln Castle towering above them. He nodded in appreciation of the seemingly impregnable defenses posed by the mighty fortress. When at last he returned his gaze to his surroundings, he saw a
small party of well-dressed women passing through the gate from the Inner bail. Thomas’s eye was immediately caught by the knight who was escorting the women. He was tall, his uncovered hair was darkly gold, and his mantle was lined with fur.

Thomas turned to Cristen, “Shall I ask that knight yonder if he knows aught of Hugh, my lady?”

“Aye, do that,” she returned crisply.

Thomas dismounted, and leading his tired stallion, went to intercept the knight and his group of ladies.

When he saw that he was being approached, the knight halted and waited for Thomas to reach his side. The woman dressed in a green mantle who had been walking beside him halted also.

Thomas was tall, but the knight was taller, and Thomas had to look up to meet his eyes. They were very blue.

“Excuse me, sir,” Thomas said, “but I wonder if you could tell me where I might find Hugh de Leon.”

“Who wants to know?” the tall, broad-shouldered young man replied. His eyes flicked over Thomas’s horse, a well-built roan.

Thomas made a small gesture in the direction of Cristen and Mabel. “My name is Thomas Mannyng and I am escorting Lady Cristen Haslin of Somerford,” he said. “I am one of Sir Nigel’s household knights.”

“You are from Somerford?” the young knight said with sudden interest. He looked down at the woman in green standing at his side. “Do you mind if I speak to Lady Cristen for a moment, my lady?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “In fact, I will accompany you.” She made a shooing gesture toward the four other ladies in her party, who were waiting at a little distance. “The rest of you can go along to church. Sir Richard and I will join you shortly.”

Thomas spared a glance for the woman in the green hooded mantle, and his mouth dropped open as he beheld her face. He stood for a moment like one who has been poleaxed, and had to hurry to catch up with the two, who were heading toward Cristen and Mabel.

“Lady Cristen,” the tall knight said as he stopped unerringly beside her horse. “I am Richard Canville, son to the sheriff. Hugh has been staying with me and my father in our town house.”

Thomas was overcome by a rush of relief so strong that his knees sagged.
What luck that we ran into this fellow
, he thought. He could scarcely wait to relinquish the responsibility for Cristen to Hugh.

The girl next to Richard Canville pushed back her hood, revealing a mass of glorious red-gold hair. “And I am Elizabeth de Beauté,” she said.

Good God
, Thomas thought in shock.
This is the girl Hugh is supposed to marry?

His eyes went to Cristen as she took in the incredibly beautiful face of Elizabeth de Beauté. Her large brown eyes never flickered as she responded calmly, “How do you do, Lady Elizabeth. I am so sorry about your father.”

Thomas felt a flicker of pride. Nothing ever discomposed Lady Cristen.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied.

Richard said in a faintly bewildered voice, “Was Hugh expecting you, my lady?”

Cristen transferred her gaze to the knight. “He didn’t know when I was arriving.”

She might have been discussing the weather, she sounded so unruffled. One was almost tempted to believe that it was perfectly normal for an unmarried young woman, an unmarried
noble
young woman, to arrive in a strange town, accompanied only by a single
escort, in search of a young man to whom she was not related.

“I am afraid he is not in town at the moment,” Richard said, clearly at a loss.

“Isn’t he?” Cristen returned. Not a flicker of dismay showed in her demeanor. “Well then, I shall just have to wait for him.”

Thomas glanced at the shadows quickly lengthening across the ground, and stepped forward. “I wonder if you could recommend a lodging for my lady and her companion, Sir Richard,” he said. “It is growing late and if Lord Hugh is not available to advise us…” He let his voice trail away.

“Good heavens,” Richard said in deep surprise. “Have you no place to stay?”

Cristen shot Thomas a warning look. “I thought to ask for shelter at the bishop’s guest house, Thomas,” she said steadily.

Richard said, “I am afraid that you are not the only one who has come to Lincoln in search of Hugh, my lady. The Earl of Wiltshire arrived here two days ago, and he and his entourage have already taken up residence in the bishop’s guest house.”

Judas
, Thomas thought in barely suppressed panic.
Now what am I to do? Lord Guy will be enraged if he finds that Cristen has come here without her father
.

Cristen continued to look perfectly unruffled.

Thomas said hopefully, “Perhaps you might be able to recommend some other place to us, Sir Richard.”

Elizabeth de Beauté said, “Of course Lady Cristen will stay with me.”

Everyone stared at the slender figure standing next to Richard.

“The sheriff has very graciously given me his apartment in the castle,” Elizabeth informed Cristen. Her
voice was clear and bell-like. “There is plenty of room for you and your lady. I should be happy to have your company, Lady Cristen.”

For the first time since they had left Somerford, Thomas saw a trace of unsureness in Cristen.

“I do not wish to discommode you, my lady,” she said. “We will do perfectly well at an inn.”

At this point, Richard earned Thomas’s everlasting gratitude by saying firmly, “An inn is no place for the daughter of Nigel Haslin. I strongly suggest that you accept Lady Elizabeth’s gracious offer. It is already growing dark.”

Thomas stared hard at Cristen, willing her to accept this very generous invitation. She glanced at him and read his thought. He saw her mouth set. She turned back to the young woman who was standing on the ground beside her.

“Thank you, my lady. You are very kind.” Her voice sounded grim rather than relieved.

“Not at all,” Elizabeth said. She, on the other hand, sounded positively gay. “It will be most enjoyable to have a companion of my own age.”

Cristen’s small straight nose quivered.

“I think we can forget evening service for tonight, Sir Richard,” Elizabeth said. “It is more important at the moment to get our guests into shelter before dark.”

As the couple turned to retrace their way back to the Inner bail, Thomas looked at Cristen’s straight back and wondered how she was going to like lodging with Hugh’s betrothed.

Cristen was not pleased with her lodging arrangements, but there didn’t seem to be any alternative. She certainly couldn’t go to the bishop. If Lord Guy found out that she was in Lincoln, he would order her home
before she had a chance to see Hugh. And Hugh would be absolutely livid if he found her residing at an inn.

Elizabeth de Beauté, who was so aptly named, was both friendly and efficient as she introduced Cristen to her companion, Lady Sybil, and arranged for Cristen and Mabel to share a bedroom.

After Cristen had washed and changed from her travel-stained riding clothes, she returned to the austere main hall of the sheriff’s apartment to be reunited with her hostess.

Elizabeth gave her a delighted smile.

She could not look more pleased to see me than if I was her long-lost sister
, Cristen thought sourly as she returned her hostess’s smile with restraint.

She noted with interest that Richard Canville had remained. He had risen in courtesy as she entered the room and now he informed her, “I must tell you that we expected Hugh back before now, my lady. He went to visit one John Rye, a knight who was serving with the castle guard when Sir Gilbert was killed.”

Cristen took the seat between Lady Elizabeth and Lady Sybil, and Richard returned to his.

“Did you know that Hugh is attempting to prove that Bernard Radvers is innocent of murdering Gilbert de Beauté?” he asked her.

Cristen accepted a cup of wine from a servant and regarded Richard over its rim. “Aye,” she said. “I know.”

“He is wasting his time,” Elizabeth said, and for the first time a hard note sounded in her musical voice. “Bernard Radvers murdered my father. He was found standing over his body with the murder weapon clutched in his hand.”

“So I have heard,” Cristen said mildly.

“Considering all that, I don’t understand why Lord Hugh won’t simply let justice take its course,” Lady Elizabeth complained.

“Hugh has always been loyal to his friends,” Cristen returned. “Bernard is a friend of his and Bernard says he did not murder your father. Hugh believes him.”

Elizabeth’s green eyes shot sparks. “Then Lord Hugh must be very gullible indeed.”

“Hugh is not gullible, my lady,” Richard said. “I have known him since we were children and I can assure you that he is not gullible at all.”

Cristen looked at Richard with more interest than she had shown heretofore. “You knew Hugh when he lived in Lincoln?”

“Hugh and I have known each other since we were ten years old,” Richard replied.

Cristen looked at him thoughtfully and sipped her wine.

“I wonder what urgent matter can have brought you to Lincoln so precipitously?” Elizabeth asked guilelessly.

Cristen ignored her comment and said to Richard, “How long has Hugh been gone?”

Richard’s blue eyes narrowed with thought. “It must be four days now. John Rye’s manor of Linsay is only a few miles to the north of here, so I assume that either he wasn’t there and Hugh is waiting for him, or he has gone in search of him.” He gave her a charmingly rueful smile. “Hugh has not seen fit to communicate with us, so I cannot tell you for certain.”

Cristen knew that Hugh was all right even though she didn’t know where he was. She nodded calmly.

A tiny silence fell, broken by Lady Sybil. “Wasn’t your father the one who first discovered that Hugh
Corbaille was in reality the lost heir of the de Leons?” she asked Cristen eagerly.

“He was,” Cristen replied.

“What an exciting story that is!” Elizabeth’s companion gushed. “A
jongleur
could make a wonderful
chanson de geste
from it.”

Cristen thought of all the anguish Hugh had gone through when he had finally accepted his true identity, and found that she could not reply.

Elizabeth decided on direct tactics to get the information she wanted. “But why have you come to Lincoln in search of Hugh, Lady Cristen? Surely your father should have accompanied you!”

Cristen’s eyebrows were fine aloof arches over her astonished eyes. “I beg your pardon?” she said.

Color stained Elizabeth’s cheeks and her green eyes glittered. “I was merely wondering what you are doing in Lincoln,” she snapped.

“I have come to see Hugh,” Cristen replied.

Elizabeth stared at her. Cristen gazed steadily back.

“Does Lord Guy know that you are here?” Elizabeth asked shrewdly. “He is your overlord, is he not?”

“I did not have time to communicate with Lord Guy before I left Somerford,” Cristen said. She took another sip of her wine.

Richard said with faint amusement, “If you like, my lady, I will send someone to Linsay tomorrow to tell Hugh that you have arrived.”

For the first time since she had entered Lincoln, Cristen gave a genuine smile. “Thank you, Sir Richard. I should appreciate that.”

His return smile was utterly beguiling. “Not at all, Lady Cristen,” he replied. “It makes me happy to be able to serve you.”

Late the following morning, Alan Stanham rode out of Lincoln, his destination the manor of Linsay. Richard had entrusted his squire with a horse and the mission of delivering a message to Hugh de Leon if Hugh was at Linsay.