The Heart of the Phoenix (26 page)

She bit her lip at the memory of his beating, the cruel way he’d been carried back to the manor. As she climbed the stairs earlier, she noticed two soldiers dragging him toward the storage area beneath the hall. When she protested, Lord Fulk simply said murderers and traitors warranted no consideration.

These last hours retained an aura of unreality, as if she might awaken soon and discover the whole day was but another of her terrifying dreams. The only difference—this one contained no fire.

She watched the man whom the king decreed she marry. He stood high in royal regard. That seemed obvious, for he’d been given not only the responsibility of helping arrange the coronation, but that of enforcing justice. Surely if he possessed such trust, he could be relied upon for fairness. When he realized his information was wrong, he’d release Stephen.

All the prisoners were to be transported to London, he had said. So time remained to convince him. If her arguments proved unsuccessful, Henry would set everything straight when he arrived.

But when Henry arrived, she must prepare to wed. A flare of panic made her heart pound. If only she had more time. Why such a rush? She always thought she’d exchange vows at Chauvere, with her family attending.

Yet another dream never to materialize.

Across the chamber, Lord Fulk’s face hardened as one of the new arrivals spoke. This time, he looked toward Geoffra, who sat alone in an opposite corner, legs crossed gracefully in front of her, head bowed in prayerful attitude. Not once had she acknowledged any of them. Except for one brief meeting with Evie’s eyes that left Evie with a startling thought.

Impossible.

“Brother.” Lord Fulk pointed to the monk. “Bring the Saracen.”

The monk’s expression remained avuncular as he left the bench on which he sat and moved toward Geoffra. She looked up as he neared, and he gestured to her. In one fluid movement, she rose and followed him across the floor.

Lord Fulk flicked a glance at Evie as the two neared. “Brother, I have decided you may continue your journey tomorrow. This woman may accompany you. I will assign guards for your protection.”

Brother Gerald’s expression sharpened. “We do not go with you?”

“I have duties for King John and I must leave immediately.” He turned from the monk to frown at Geoffra. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Brother Gerald replied.

“Not you, her.”

Geoffra did not move.

“Look at me.” Lord Fulk shoved at her shoulder, and she stumbled back a step. Her head dipped lower.

“My Lord d’Ambrosie.” Evie’s surprised voice rang through the hall before she realized she spoke.

He turned and strode across the floor toward her. His face was livid with fury. “Never raise your voice to me,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Shock must have reflected in Evie’s expression, because her betrothed stopped short. In an instant, solicitude replaced the anger.

“I beg your pardon, my lady.” His voice quieted in regret. He took her hands and inclined his head. “My anger at this search for traitors has made me forget myself in your company. But I must search for the enemy no matter what form he may take. For all we know, this woman is a threat.”

“She is a female,” Evie whispered. “How can she threaten you?”

His head remained averted, but his jaw twitched. “Danger takes many forms,” he ground out. “A woman can wield a knife as well as a man.”

“But—”

He straightened to peer down at her. She had no doubt he intended the position to emphasize his authority. All evidence of remorse disappeared from his face.

“While I am pleased with the king’s choice of my bride, your presence at this time is not only inconvenient for me, it is dangerous for you. I’ve captured an outlaw who has spread death and desolation for many years. And he traveled with you.”

“But surely Sir Stephen—”

“Do you always interrupt?”

How dare he act in such a condescending manner, as if he spoke to one of his troop. She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “When I have need.”

His lips narrowed, his brow lowered, and her hands ached from the pressure of his. For a moment, she wondered what he might do. And then his face smoothed once more. He released his grip and inclined his head in that way she was coming to recognize.

“I predict our marriage will be filled with excitement such as this.” His mouth had a smug curl. “I look forward to it.”

Evie watched as he strolled around the hall, coming to a stop before Macsen. He spoke to the prisoner, sitting on the bench for a time. After one glance, Macsen stared at his hands, nodding occasionally. Finally Macsen looked up and shook his head. She saw him form the word “No.”

Lord Fulk rose and stood with feet apart. “Pity you have no care for your life.”

He returned to the group near the door. She couldn’t make out his words, but the soldiers nodded before he walked out. Brother Gerald left the hall, and Geoffra returned to her silent corner.

When Evie resumed her place on the bench, Marie moved closer.

“He scares me, my lady,” the girl whispered. “I fear I won’t live to see my home again.”

Evie patted the maid’s hands, still fisted in her lap. “I thought you and Davy were on the way to developing an understanding,” she murmured.

“
Oui
.” Marie whimpered. “But perhaps he will die, and I must return to Rosemont. Or perhaps we all will die.”

“Marie,” Evie said, “you should not despair. Lord d’Ambrosie is an honored captain. He has proven himself in battle many times. You heard how he apologized.”

Evie only wished these words voiced for Marie’s benefit reassured herself, as well. She’d begun to question the man’s character. Onboard ship, he’d appeared amiable as well as handsome. If she had to wed someone unknown, she could have fared much worse. At least, so she told herself at the time.

Now she doubted. Her original perception of his character may have been wrong. Today his manner had vacillated between cold disregard, calm accommodation, and downright cruelty. Which face was the correct Fulk d’Ambrosie? Or was there a different one entirely?

She never trusted anyone whose manner changed so often and so quickly. Stephen’s attitude flipped at a sneeze. But that was different. He was different. She knew that no matter how he grumbled, he was never cruel. Firm, fierce even, but not unfeeling.

Unlike her betrothed. His expression shuttered now, he spoke to one of the soldiers who had accompanied him earlier. She recognized the man from the ship. He nodded, then left the hall. Lord Fulk turned to find her watching. He came her way once more.

“I must leave soon, my lady. But I’ve instructed my captain, Jacques Courtoise, to escort you to London tomorrow, to await your brother. I will join you there before the coronation.”

“What of the prisoners?” Surely he didn’t plan to leave Stephen and the rest here. Or did he intend to kill them? She finally realized her insistence on Stephen’s innocence carried no weight, at least not with him.

“They will be taken to London, as well. Don’t worry. They will trouble you no longer.”

He turned to leave when she realized that in the surprise of Stephen’s arrest, she’d forgotten about her own kidnapping. Lord Fulk ought to be told, especially if pig man really did serve him. He’d want to know one of his soldiers was untrustworthy.

“My lord, wait, please.” She reached out, then dropped her hand. “There’s something you should know. Before you found us, my party was attacked, and I was kidnapped. This man you’ve arrested rescued me.”

“The monk informed me earlier. I am thankful you are safe. That is why I’ve made arrangements for so many of my soldiers to remain. You’ve nothing to fear.” He patted her hand. “I will take the prisoner’s help into consideration.”

“But there’s more. One of the outlaws said he served you.”

“That can’t be, my lady. All my men come with me from London. It’s possible this brigand intentionally misled you. To cast suspicion elsewhere.”

“Of course.” She inclined her head, not at all convinced. “That must have been his intent. Thank you, my lord.”

Her gaze followed him across the floor and out the door, but her mind flew elsewhere. How to help Stephen? She had no confidence in his being treated well or that his assistance to her would affect any ruling against him.

In fact, she feared the wounds he suffered in the capture might prove more serious than she first thought. She must locate him.

Two guards remained in the hall, posted by the doors. Their attention focused outside. Evie spared a look at Geoffra, whose head was lowered. The beautiful Saracen lady sat so still against the wall, Evie wondered if she slept.

Unwilling to disturb her, Evie ran to Macsen’s side. He had been silent throughout the exchange with Lord Fulk. Now he shook his head.

“Best you not be seen with me,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t do for one of these fine fellows to think we know each other.”

As if he overheard the conversation, one of the guards shouted, “Stay away from him, milady. He might be with the holy brother, but he might not be safe. Can’t tell. Wouldn’t want to have to kill him in front of you.” That brought a guffaw from both men.

Evie drew herself up. “I believe I know my duty to tend any of God’s creatures who are injured. You may continue your watch. I will inform you if I need supplies.”

The attitude of command came easily this time. Judging from the confidence with which the reply was delivered, the journey from the monastery had achieved unintended results. In a different situation, she thought, she might be proud. Today, there was no time for it.

She knelt beside Macsen to remove the linen from around his head. Indeed, the wound healed nicely.

“I feel fine, my lady,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting for the right time.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t help if they believed you capable of causing trouble.” She rose and lifted her voice. “I will return with some salve for your wound, sir. Rest you now.”

She walked to the door only to be halted. “Where you going?”

“To gather my healing herbs from the pack animal. Surely you don’t believe I will attempt to ride off?”

“Stay here. I’ll fetch them.” One of the guards stomped down the stairs, leaving the other. If these two were soldiers, their clothes didn’t show it. The filthy, ragged tunics and chausses stank of fish and offal.

Holding her breath, she slipped around the one remaining and started down the steps. “I’ll go down and make certain he finds the right bag.”

She turned at the bottom to move along the face of the undercroft. An opening just ahead might lead to Stephen’s prison.

With a quick glance above to ensure the guard couldn’t see at that angle, she darted inside.

She took several steps inside then stood until her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. She looked around. No one. Her heart pounded in panic. Where was he? Had someone removed him already?

“Sssttt.”

Evie couldn’t contain a yelp of surprise. She swung around and there, tethered to the wall behind her, lay Stephen. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and blinked hard at the burning in her eyes. Praise God. He lived. Relief made her giddy. In three strides she reached his side, then sucked in a hissing breath. Blood caked his face, and in the growing darkness, she couldn’t distinguish dirt from bruises on his jaw and throat. Caked mud joined unidentifiable material that coated his ripped clothing.

She knelt, and her fingers gentled across his eyes, then his cheeks, outlining the cuts. “I’ll bring water to clean these,” she said. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

He grunted.

“I know,” she answered, “foolish question.”

“Don’t let him find you here.” His voice rasped from his dry and swollen throat. “Keep yourself safe.”

“Lord Fulk left.”

“Where?”

“He’s gone ahead to London, something to do with the king’s coronation. I don’t even know what day this is. Or when John intends to arrive. Tomorrow, his men are to escort me to London to meet Henry. Brother Gerald is to leave, as well.”

The mention of the monk reminded Evie. “Geoffrey has gone, but his sister is here.”

Stephen went still at her words. “Who?”

“Geoffra.” Evie heard a quiet sigh escape him. “I don’t know when she arrived, or whether she came alone. Perhaps those who brought her are with Geoffrey, waiting to help you escape.”

“No.”

She didn’t know why he sounded so certain, but other things needed to be discussed right now. “Why does Lord Fulk insist you are a traitor?”

“Evie—”

“He won’t believe me when I tell him he’s made a mistake.”

“—listen.”

“What?”

“Tell Henry to convince John all the men are from his own garrison. That none of them have left England. Do you understand?”

“Of course. They will be fine. But I’ll help free you before I leave.”

“No.”

She sat back on her heels to stare at him.

“You must not jeopardize your future. If d’Ambrosie suspects you have helped me, your marriage will suffer. Leave now. Return to the hall.”

“I will come back with water and salve.”

“Damnation, woman, you’d try the patience of a saint.”

“Well, you’re no saint.”

“Exactly. For once in your life, don’t argue. Go. Away.”

The sound of feet thudding up the wooden stairs interrupted their argument. “Lady?” a rough voice called. “I got your healing bag.”

Panic swelled in Evie’s throat. But only for a moment. So what if the guard found her here? No one had forbade her to visit Stephen. She need not fear. These men would dare not harm her. However, the guard might take his revenge on Stephen.

“Very well,” she whispered as she stood, “but I will return.” Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at him. Her fingers brushed his matted hair. His free hand lifted to touch hers. Then she ducked out of the enclosure.

She’d scarcely gained the open bailey when she espied Brother Gerald. Pausing, she waited for him to reach her.

“I’ve checked on the men confined in that wretched hut.” He gestured to the windowless wooden structure that sagged against the curtain wall. “I prevailed upon their guard to give them water.”