The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (32 page)

“Where are you going?” Catherine cried. “We can’t leave the baby.”

“Bring him then.” Berthe didn’t pause.

“Agnes will kill me,” Catherine said as she scooped Gottfried into her arms. “She’s so fussy about how he’s cared for.”

The thought gave her some pleasure.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Catherine asked as she trotted after Berthe.

“Oh, yes, I was a child here,” she answered.

Catherine had already suspected that.

They went into a section of the keep that Catherine hadn’t seen before. Berthe crossed the gallery and into a wing on the other side of a great hall. The floor dipped a bit where the new room had been joined on. Berthe hurried on.

They finally reached a large wooden door. Every inch of it was carved with a frieze of twining plants. In the center was a tree whose branches wove into the vines along the edges. Beneath the tree the carving became that of a knight and a woman. They sat demurely on either side of the trunk, perhaps discussing the weather. Catherine smiled in delight.

“Look, Gottfried!” she exclaimed. “It’s Jurvale and Andonenn.”

Berthe strode up to the door and knocked loudly.

There was no sound from within.

“The room may be empty,” Catherine said.

“He’s in there.” Berthe knocked harder.

As they waited, Catherine studied the carving of her ancestors. It was very well done. She must remember to show it to Edgar. Each finger was delicately shaped, even to the nails, and the feet. . .. Catherine looked again. Peeking out from beneath Andonenn’s skirt was something that looked very much like a fishtail.

“Berthe, do you see this?” she asked.

Before Berthe could answer, the door opened. Catherine had wondered where her grandfather and his wife vanished after the evening meal and where they spent their days. Now she knew. She was rather sorry she had learned the answer.

Briaud stood before them wrapped in a long length of silk.

“I thought you’d find a way in,” she said, staring at Berthe with loathing.

“Um, perhaps this isn’t a good time for a visit.” Catherine was staring at the curves barely hidden by the cloth.

“Don’t worry, we’re done for now,” Briaud told her, hitching the silk up on her shoulder. “He won’t want it again for hours.”

“Grandfather?” Catherine said.

“Bring them in and shut the door,” Gargenaud shouted. “There’s a draft in here.”

Berthe charged in past Briaud. Catherine followed more hesitantly, praying that her grandfather was wearing more than his wife. She held baby Gottfried up to her face. He was still sleeping. How could he do that? Her children had wakened if someone sneezed. If only he would start crying so she could have an excuse to leave.

Gargenaud was lying in an enormous bed. He had pulled up the sheet, at least, but the sight of his bare chest, white hair gleaming with sweat, caused Catherine’s stomach to contract and her head to fill with unwanted images.

Berthe was not intimidated. She marched to the bed. Putting her hands on her hips, she addressed the lord of Boisvert.

“I’ve come to save you, you old fool,” she said. “How long did you think you could hide the truth behind silly stories and ceremonies? There’s a real army not a day away. Do you intend to frighten them into surrender with legends?”

Gargenaud drew himself up in anger. The sheet slipped alarmingly.

“How can you, of all people, doubt the legend?” he roared. “Look what happened when you tried to escape it.”

“At least I didn’t die of boredom as this one will.” She jerked a thumb at Briaud, who had moved nearer to Catherine, her eyes fixed on the baby.

“We don’t need your help,” Gargenaud told her. “No army can breach these walls.”

“And who will lift the stone that’s blocking Andonenn’s spring?” Berthe asked. “You don’t even know where it is. How long can you last without water?”

“There’s enough to last until we find the key,” Gargenaud said. “Briaud, stop drooling over that child and come here. I’ve a kink in my back.”

“Leave her be,” Berthe said. “She knows she’ll get none of her own until you’re dead. Not unless you leave here. But you may have no choice, old man. You’ve abused Andonenn’s gift and forces are coming together to take it back from you.”

“You’re as addled as poor Madeleine,” Gargenaud jeered. But his voice held a flicker of doubt.

Berthe sat down on the bed. “You know better than that, Father. I’m more sane than you. But you’re not so far gone that you don’t know how much you need me now.”

The old man glared at her.

“I need no help from you,” he said. “You are an unnatural child and have no place here. Andonenn’s true children will save her without you.”

He finally noticed Catherine and the baby.

“Which one are you?” he asked querulously. “Get about your
business. Do I have to get up and show you the door? Briaud! My back!”

Catherine and Berthe made a hasty retreat.

“If it weren’t for my promise to Mandon,” Berthe muttered, “I’d let that old man burn.”

At the moment, Catherine would have been happy to do the same.

Somewhere underground. That afternoon.

. . .quod cum retulero, non vacillabit fides historiae etsi mentes

auditorum sint incredulae
.

. . .as I tell the story, I shall not deviate from my faith

in the truth of it, even if my listeners are unbelieving.

—William of Malmesbury,

The History of the English Kings
, Part 204

T
his torch isn’t going to last very long.” Martin looked worriedly at the wad of feebly burning cloth he had wrapped around a chestnut branch.

“Then let’s hope we find these men soon,” Edgar said. “At least we know we haven’t missed them. There haven’t been any forks in the tunnel yet.”

“What do we do when we find them?” asked Martin, acutely aware that they were poorly armed.

Edgar had been wondering the same thing. He knew the men had left their swords and bows with the guard. What else might they have?

“I’ll think of something,” he said.

He sounded so confident that Martin ceased worrying.

Edgar cursed his own rashness. Even before he had lost his hand, being around fighting men had made him resentful. He was the youngest, destined for the church and of no value in a society of warriors. Whatever lip service they might give to religion, they all really believed that God was on the side of the strong. They sneered at the monks and made jokes about beardless men in skirts. It always made Edgar want to attack them like a rabid dog. The men at Boisvert had the same effect on him.

Yet, in this case, what else could he have done? There wasn’t time to go to the castle for reinforcements. He couldn’t chance the men getting back to Olivier with news of a back entrance to the unassailable castle. The only thing was to attempt to capture them.

He only wished that he wasn’t risking Martin’s life along with his own.

There was a sound up ahead and the glow of light reflected around a bend. Edgar put a finger to his lips and then gestured for Martin to put his torch down. They would need all three hands to deal with the thieves.

Slowly they crept toward the light. It flickered but didn’t move forward. Edgar felt a shiver run up his spine. Were they creeping into a trap?

Edgar waved Martin to stay behind and eased cautiously into the light.

He almost trod on the remains of the torch, guttering out on the damp ground. Just beyond it lay the body of the man in green, his arm outstretched as if he’d thrown the torch as he fell. In his back was a short metal arrow, not fletched. Its copper color was bright against the dull shade of the man’s tunic.

“What happened?” Martin asked from behind him. “A thieves’ row?”

“I don’t know.” Edgar knelt next to the body. “He’s dead, but only a few moments. It looks like he was running away from something.”

They both stared into the tunnel. Martin picked up the torch. Edgar nodded. Without speaking, they ventured again into the darkness.

They found the body of the second man lying faceup a few yards farther down the passage, another copper arrow through his throat. His red tunic was stained a deeper crimson that pooled in a hollow in the floor. Martin felt a squelch as he stepped in it.

“He must have been shot first,” Edgar said. “And his partner was hit trying to escape.”

“But from what?” Martin’s voice shook.

“Someone who was already down here,” Edgar said. “This passage seems to already be well guarded. Martin, we don’t need to worry about these men giving away the secret entrance. Let’s go back, fetch their friend, and take him back to the castle for questioning.”

“What about them?” Martin asked, indicating the bodies.

“We’ll send men back to collect them,” Edgar decided. “Seguin will want to put a guard here, I’m sure, until the passage can be blocked from inside.”

“You don’t think he set the guard.” Martin stated this as a fact.

“I wish I did,” Edgar said. “But I believed him when he said he didn’t know this tunnel existed.”

“I wonder where it comes out,” Martin said.

“So do I,” said Edgar. “But not enough to face whatever killed these men. Let’s go.”

“Catherine, where have you been?” Agnes snatched the baby from her as she entered the nursery. “I came up to see how my sweet Gottfried was and I found an empty cot. Do you know how I felt? Oh, my precious child.” She covered his face with kisses.

“I had to leave, Agnes, and couldn’t let him stay here alone,” Catherine explained.

“Then you should have told the nurse,” Agnes answered. “You have that much German. Don’t I have enough to do without having to fear that my son has been abducted?”

“I only took him to Grandfather’s room,” Catherine told her. “He was asleep most of the time.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Agnes said. “And what possessed you to go there?”

Catherine sighed. “It’s a long story. Do you really want to hear it now?”

Agnes put a hand to her forehead. “No, I don’t care as long as he’s safe. I just wish we were all home in Trier.”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Catherine said. “I’m going to follow your suggestion and find out what my own three are up to.”

She found Berthe waiting a little way down the passage.

“You might have come in to help me explain,” she grumbled.

“I’ve talked enough today,” Berthe answered. “Now I have to find Mandon. I shall meet you this evening. Do you still have the other knife?”

“I gave it to Seguin,” Catherine said. “Are you sure you’ll be able to locate Mandon. I don’t think she can be found unless she wants to be.”

“I know her tricks,” Berthe answered. “Now, go tend to your family. It’s them I’m doing this for. If it weren’t for the children, I’d let this place fall.”

Their crowded chamber was a refuge in an alien world. Samonie was mending a tunic for Edana when Catherine entered. James, with his cousins Hubert and Beron, was down in the Great Hall busily running errands for Agnes, but nine-year-old Evaine had stayed to help amuse Edana and Peter. Her face lit when she saw Catherine.

“Aunt Catherine!” she said. “I’m teaching Edana her letters. She’s very quick.”

“Or you may be a good teacher,” Catherine told her. She took the stylus and board, wrote an ‘E’ in the wax and held it up. “Do you know that one, precious?”

“That’s for Edana,” the child answered proudly.

“Very good.” Catherine gave her a hug. When she tried to let go, Edana held her more tightly.

“Mama,” she asked sadly. “When can we go home?”

“Don’t you like it here?” Catherine asked.

Edana shook her head. “It’s too big and the green lady scares me.”

Catherine looked at Samonie, who seemed as surprised at she was.

“What green lady?” Catherine was afraid that she already knew the answer. Evaine answered for her cousin. “The one who comes up at night, when you are at dinner. She’s pretty, but her hands are so cold. She wants us to come to her rooms to play, but we always tell her no.”

“That’s very smart of you, Evaine,” Catherine said. “I can see you’re a good guardian for the little ones.”

Evaine sighed. She knew that all too well.

“Samonie, I thought there was always someone here.” Catherine tried not to sound accusing.

“Either I or one of your sister’s maids are with the children every minute,” Samonie insisted. “And someone stays in the anteroom after they are put down to sleep. I don’t see how anyone could get in.”

“If it’s Mandon, there may be no way to keep her out,” Catherine said. “She knows all the hidden doorways. Evaine, if she comes again, I want you to call Samonie at once. She’ll send for me.”

“Will the lady hurt us?” Evaine’s eyes were round with fear.

“Absolutely not,” Catherine answered. “But you are still not to go with her, no matter what she says.”

Evaine crossed her hands over her heart. “I promise, Aunt.”

Edana still clung to her mother. Catherine tickled her until she loosened her grip.

“
Ma douz
, will you stay here with Evaine for a while longer,” she asked. “I’m going to find Papa. Then we’ll both come up and play with you.”