Arsenic and Old Armor (28 page)

That was never to be, though. She would miss
him; there was no denying that. She loved everything about him.
Emotions clawed their way up in her throat, and she tasted the salt
of her own tears.

Marion made Iain sit beside her on the stone
bench. The shadows of the night masked her misery. She started from
the very beginning, telling him what she’d seen and heard. There
was no way to gentle the blow, nor hide the truth.

He needed to know the trouble they were all
in.

The tunnel was cold and damp and pitch-dark.
As the two men made their way along the low, narrow passageway,
spider-webs clung to Bane’s face and hair and shoulders, and he
tried to ignore the sound of the rats scurrying past their feet in
the dark.

The blanket-wrapped body he and Jack were
dragging along seemed to grow heavier with every step. Finally,
after what seemed like years, they reached the trapdoor Jack said
opened up to a landing on the dungeon stairs. Pushing open the
ancient oak portal, they shoved the unwieldy corpse through and
climbed in after. Once through the trap door, though, Jack hoisted
the body up onto Bane’s shoulder and turned away. The wiry little
man could only make it up to the next landing. A candle flickered
on the curving wall farther up the stairs.

“
He’s breaking my back,”
Bane whined to his leader. “There is no way I can carry the filthy
bugger another step.”

“
Drop him here on the
landing, then,” Jack Fitzwilliam ordered. “The rats will watch him
while we visit with my beloved family.”

Bane didn’t have to be told twice. He
dropped the dead body to the floor. The man’s head made a cracking
noise as it hit the stone wall, but there were no complaints out of
him. He’d done the last of his complaining in his rooms at the inn
when Jack had cut his throat. Happily, his officers drinking
downstairs hadn’t heard a thing.

“
There’s something
foul-smelling down there, Jack,” Bane said, looking back down the
steps.

“
I’ve always believed this
tower house guarded the gates of hell, Cardinal.”

“
I think you may be right
in that.”

Jack looked down at the body sprawled at
their feet. “Move him over. He’s taking too much room.”

“
It’s not like anyone is
going down there,” Bane complained.

“
I said he is taking too
much room,” Jack said more sharply, pointing to the
corpse.

David Bane knew better than to rile his
leader. Cursing under his breath, he leaned over and propped up the
body against the wall.

“
Better?” He looked up.
Jack was already ascending the stairs. Bane hurried to catch up to
him. This house was already terrifying him. Hell’s gate or no,
there was no way he wanted to get lost here.

Jack halted at a landing. There was an
arched doorway, and Bane stopped behind him, peering around his
shoulder into the darkened room. It looked to be the Fleet Tower’s
great hall.

“
Do you think they’re
already asleep?”

Jack reached for the candle burning in a
sconce in the stairwell and lit the candles on either side of the
doorway. Light stretched into the room, and the two men noticed the
food spread on the table.

“
We were expected,” Bane
said, slithering past his leader and going to the table. “And I was
so hungry.”

Jack paused in the doorway. Like a wolf on a
prowl, he swept his gaze over every corner, his nose taking in all
the scents.

“
What are you waiting for?”
Bane asked, tearing open a loaf of bread. Scooping out the soft
inside, he stuffed it in his mouth and threw the crust on the
floor. “I hate the crusts of these fancy breads.”

“
They’re here,” Jack
murmured. “I can smell them.”

“
No one is here. Only you
and I.” He shook his head at the platter of cheeses and went for
the meat pies.

“
By ‘sblood, what did the
cook do to this mutton?” Bane complained, spitting it out at his
feet. “I think a filthy Dutchman must have spiced the
sauces.”

There was a slap on his knee, and Bane
leaped off the ground at least a foot. “The devil take me! What was
that?”

He stepped back, reaching for his dirk.

Jack had already drawn his knife, too. Bane
stepped back beside his leader.

“
Come out of there!” Jack
barked.

As the men watched, two old women crawled
out from under the table and, with some help from each other, stood
up.

“
Well, I’ll be damned,”
Jack said.

“
Probably so,” the thinner
of the two women said angrily. “But who are you?”

“
What are you doing here?”
the other one asked.

“
And how dare you ridicule
our cooking?” the first one asked, pointing a finger at David
Bane.

“
How dare you?” the other
one repeated.

Bane took another step
back, thinking it was safer to stand
behind
his leader.

“
And you will
pick up
the mess you
have made.”

“
You
will
pick it up,” the round-faced
one said, shaking her finger at them menacingly.

Jack slid his dirk back into its sheath and
laughed, a deep amused laugh, that told Bane all was going to be
well. The two frowning women, however, didn’t change their fierce
expressions.

“
Aunt Judith! Aunt
Margaret! You never change, do you?”

The two women stepped closer to each other,
staring at him uneasily.

“
Who are you?” they asked
at the same time.

“
It’s Jack. Your
nephew.”

The thin one shook her head first; then the
second one shook her head before the two of them looked at each
other and shook their heads.

“
No, you’re far too ugly to
be Jack.”

“
Far too ugly,” the portly
sister repeated.

Bane looked up at Jack’s face, which grew
dark as his anger returned. This was a very dangerous moment for
the two old women, but they didn’t even know it.

As he looked at his leader, he had to agree
that the man was hideously ugly, but Jack didn’t think so. In fact,
he was rather vain when it came to his looks. The tall man’s face,
scarred as it was, now showed spatters of blood from their friend
in the stairwell and dirt from the passageway they’d traveled
through. Bane made a motion of wiping his face with his sleeve, but
Jack wasn’t paying any attention.

“
Speak up,” demanded the
one he’d addressed as Margaret. “How dare you come in here and spit
out our food and then claim to be our nephew?”

“
How dare you?” Judith
repeated.

“
I didn’t spit out the
food. Cardinal Bane did,” Jack said casually.

Margaret’s expression immediately softened.
“Cardinal?”

“
Cardinal?” Judith clasped
her hands.

The two women smiled at Bane, acting like
they had long forgotten not recognizing their nephew. Bane bowed
politely, but didn’t dare approach.

“
Wait just a moment,”
Judith said. “I know you. Aren’t you the lad from the village
across the glen?”

“
I believe he is,” Margaret
agreed. “But he’s all grown-up.”

“
He still has the same
hooked nose.”

“
And the same large ears
that I recall flapping in the wind,” Margaret said,
smiling.

Bane looked up at Jack and took a step away.
He’d been a member of Fitzwilliam’s gang only since the summer, but
he knew that he’d never shared this information with the outlaw
when he’d joined him.

“
What was his name?” Judith
asked.

“
David,” Margaret
remembered.

“
Everyone used to call him
David Bones, if I’m not mistaken."

“
That’s right,
dear.”

“
The wee troublemaker was
all nose, ears, bones, and nothing else,” Judith finished
cheerfully.

“
He obviously still has no
taste for fine food,” Margaret said scornfully as she pointed to
the food on the ground.

As a boy, David had been terrified of these
two women. He had never accepted any job that would have brought
him inside the gates of Fleet Tower. He’d always had an entirely
uncomfortable feeling about them. Happily, Sir William never
strayed out of the castle. David had known about Jack Fitzwilliam
for years. It was simply good fortune that he’d run into his gang
immediately after being dismissed from the abbey at Cracketford for
filching from the abbey’s wine cellars.

There were many rumors floating about
regarding Jack’s religious fervor. David had simply been at the
right place at the right time, joining the outlaws and offering to
save their leader’s soul from eternal damnation.

Jack took a threatening step toward David.
“You told me you were a priest.”

David took a step back. “I
was a priest. I
am
a priest. It was you that made me a cardinal.”

“
He was sent away to become
a monk,” Margaret corrected.

“
He ended up as a drunk
monk, from all accounts,” Judith explained.

“
A drunk monk!” the two
women repeated, giggling.

“
That has a nice sound to
it,” Margaret added.

He was not a drunk. Granted, he loved the
feeling of floating you sometimes had when you drank just the right
amount, but he didn’t think there was much sense in explaining any
of that right now.

“
You never told me you were
from one of my own villages.”

David saw Jack’s hand go to the handle of
his dirk.

“
Jack, listen to me. I am a
priest. Your priest. In fact, I’m your cardinal.” He inched
backward, not trusting the temper of a man who he knew would cut
out his heart just for a laugh. “And what does it matter what
village I was born in? I’m your man. I know you are the rightful
heir of the McCall lands. You’re the true Earl of Fleet now. You
know that. I know that.”

Jack continued to approach him. David
circled around a chair, now actually backing toward the two
troublemaking hags.

“
I made you my spiritual
adviser, my messenger of God. But you lied to me.”

“
I didn’t lie. I just
didn’t reveal everything because I didn’t think it mattered.” He
bumped up against the table. He considered crawling under, but
Jack’s hand was suddenly clamped around his throat.

“
Please, Jack,” he gasped,
trying unsuccessfully to peel away the fingers.

“
You lied to me. My priest
doesn’t lie to me.”

David knew he had to think quickly. He had
personally witnessed this man cut throats and break necks and choke
the life out of a victim. His leader had once boasted of killing
nineteen men himself. As Jack slowly drew his dirk, David had a
horrible thought that he was about to be gutted like a fish. He was
about to become number twenty.

“
But Jack, the good Lord
wanted it this way,” he managed to croak. “It was divine
intervention to have a McCall peasant rise in the holy orders to
help the rightful heir find his place.”

The hold on David’s neck didn’t loosen. The
blade of the giant’s dirk glinted red in the light of the dying
fire. Jack’s eyes were as lifeless as a dead man's.

“
Hearken, we beseech thee,
O Lord, to our prayers,” David cried out as loudly as he could
muster. “Bless with the awful hand of Thy Majesty this dirk which
thy servant holds, that it may be
righteous
in the defense of your
church…”

The hold on his neck eased. The hand
released him and dropped away. Jack bowed his head and held up the
dirk with both hands to be blessed. David finished the prayer and
said another in Latin before making an elaborate sign of the cross
in the air over the knife.

Jack turned and walked away from him.

“
Well, Jack Fitzwilliam.
It’s been a very long time,” Margaret said in her high-pitched
voice.

David stared at her. You wouldn’t know that
she’d nearly seen a man’s insides ripped out in front of her.

“
Very long,” Judith
repeated.

David stretched his neck, turning it from
side to side. He just wanted to be sure his head was still
connected to his shoulders.

“
How long has it
been?”

“
How long,
Jack?”

“
Nearly four years,” Jack
muttered, looking at the food on the table.

Judith looked at her sister. “Is that a long
time?”

Margaret nodded before turning to their
nephew. “What have you been doing since your last visit?”

“
Yes, Jack, what have you
been doing?” Judith repeated.

David figured that after Jack’s wee show of
force, the McCall crones had decided to remember their nephew. Bane
reached down and picked up a wedge of cheese and bit off a piece.
The cheese was dry, though, and he was about to spit it out when he
saw Margaret glowering at him. He forced himself to swallow the
bite.

“
I’ve been raising an
army,” Jack answered.

“
Well, that certainly runs
in the family,” Margaret giggled.

“
Definitely,” her sister
agreed.