By Right of Arms (36 page)

“Baptiste,” Perrine instructed. “Take Derek out of—”

“Let him stay, Perrine. He does no harm and he must stay with you. Should Faon see him with Baptiste, she will seize the moment for some trickery.” Aurélie smiled up into Perrine’s eyes. “We both need you at the moment.”

* * *

From a safe, concealed position in the wood, Hyatt watched his brother’s group leave and travel down the road away from De la Noye. The distance was too great to make out small details, but the number of people, horses, and carts could be seen. And the road that Ryland had chosen was due west, as if he traveled to Bordeaux, but there was a crossroad a few miles farther that he could take toward Innesse, if he chose. Guillaume was watching from the small camp he and Girvin had made. The two men had spent many days and nights in their hidden copse, but on this mission Girvin was with Hyatt.

“If they choose the road to Innesse, Guillaume will see them?”

“Yea, Hyatt, though it amazes me that they still travel that road and do not creep through the trees to do their meeting. It seems brazen and foolish to me.”

“Did you instruct the guards at the gate to search Ryland’s carts?”

Girvin smiled. “Ryland will not take anything out of De la Noye that you will miss.”

Hyatt looked over his shoulder at Girvin. “Do you think she has gone with him?”

Girvin shrugged. “My orders to your men were very clear; they will let Mistress Faon escape, but not the boy. You can see that no woman travels with them. If she has gone, she dresses like a page or squire.”

An oddly placed look of disappointment crossed Hyatt’s features. “Why would she escape me when I have offered her so much? I would pay her fare, give her protection on her journey, and buy her a decent lodging. Yet she would
flee?
Disguised?” He shook his head. “I admit that I do not understand women.”

“There has been much whispering, Hyatt, that she found a warm place in Ryland’s bed. If she goes away with him in some disguise to keep you from seeing her depart, it can only mean she plots against you now. She hoped for a long time that you would come to her side one day, but when you wed the lady, Faon lost her greatest wish.”

“But she knows the reason. She admitted that she played me false, but I was generous. I accepted my own part in being made a fool and would not give her another opportunity to use me.”

“You may not have given her the chance, Hyatt,” Girvin grumbled. “But she saw her chance when you took a liking to your son. You should have removed the boy from her at once.”

Hyatt was mute. That Girvin was right brought him no satisfaction. A small boy needs a mother’s love, and Hyatt had hoped that Faon would be a satisfactory mother even if she could not be a good wife or mistress.

“If we find the woman still waiting at De la Noye, I shall begin making plans for her departure. But I think we are too hopeful, Girvin. She does not appear to be finished with me yet. I suppose she waits even now with some plan meant to trap me and bring me back to her.”

The troop that Ryland led was over the farthest knoll when Hyatt turned his small party about and led them back to De la Noye. Their passage was unhurried and some game that was spotted along the way was speared or shot from the bow. The sun was setting its path to rest before the gates were in sight, and Hyatt felt a ravenous hunger. He looked forward to his first relaxing evening in his own hall since Ryland’s arrival. He had let his brother stay for over a month, which was far longer than he had intended.

He dismounted just inside the wall so that a page could take his steed and was just pulling off his gauntlets when the crouched figure of the old woman who served Faon came rushing toward him.

“Messire, messire, I did not know what she would do … and now the lady is ill and no one will let me help.
Seigneur,
you must let me tend your lady. Only I can save her.”

“What is this?”

“Faon, Sir Hyatt. I have searched everywhere, but she has stolen my herbs, my roots. I cannot find Faon to question her, and she alone would be so bold as to take those medicines that I mix. ’Twas poison, Sir Hyatt.” The old woman twisted her hands and shuddered. “And Lady Aurélie is ill. I fear Faon has tried to kill her.”

Hyatt grasped the old woman by the arms and nearly shook her, but her frail, withered body felt like brittle sticks in his hands. “What do you say? Where is Faon?”

“My most dangerous herbs are missing and Faon may know their use, for we have talked about my medicines. And I cannot find her, but the lady is ill and cannot be moved.”

“Where is Lady Aurélie?”

“In the weaving rooms, milord. Her woman won’t have her moved.”

“And you know the remedy?”

“If there is a remedy, messire, I could find it. I could purge her of the poison. That she is not dead means she did not have much. But they won’t accept my offer of help. The women won’t let me near her.”

“Come with me,” Hyatt barked, taking the old woman’s arm. He dragged her toward the hall and within just a moment he was aggravated with her slow pace. Without releasing her, he grabbed a mare that was being led to stable and heaved the old woman on the horse’s back. He took the reins and ran in a panicked stride, the ancient woman holding onto the mane for dear life.

When they reached the hall he helped Nima down and dragged her through the doors and up the stairs. “You cannot find Faon?”

“She is nowhere, messire,” Nima huffed.

“My son?”

“With the woman Perrine and your lady.”

“Did Faon tell you what she would do?”

“She hates your lady wife, messire. She is torn with jealousy and asked me to mix a brew that would kill her, but I refused.” Nima gasped for breath. “You must believe that I refused.”

Hyatt reached the second level, and the old woman slumped, already exhausted. He looked at her with a frown of impatience.

“I can go on, messire. We must see to your wife.”

Hyatt pulled her along and finally reached the weaving rooms, throwing open the doors. Hyatt went straight to the pallet where Aurélie lay and knelt down beside her.

“Oh Hyatt, I am sorry. I am ill.”

“Your stomach? Your head?”

“A fearful weakness, and each time I try to rise, the room spins round and round. I cannot walk for fear of falling.”

“We did not try to carry her down the stairs, Sir Hyatt,” Perrine informed him. “And this old woman has pestered us the day long.”

“Perhaps she can help. Did you not listen to her?”

Hyatt turned and regarded Nima, who stepped cautiously closer. Nima’s brow was furrowed in confusion. “The poison is quick and frightful, messire. Perhaps that is not the lady’s malady. Let me look at her, I beg you.”

Hyatt scooped his wife up in his arms and carried her to the door. “Come to my chamber and have a look. Perrine, come along and watch this old woman, lest she trick me somehow.”

Hyatt carried Aurélie down the stairs. She looped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. “Why are you so hard on the old woman? What is this business of poison?”

“Faon is nowhere to be found and the old woman claims that her most dangerous herbs and roots are missing. She fears you have been poisoned by Faon.”

“But that’s absurd. What poison causes one to be dizzy? And I have suffered with this strange ailment for days.”

“I thought I ordered you to bed.”

“I tried, Hyatt. I cannot abide such.” She held him closely. “Hyatt, if I fail to bring your child to life, will you hate me?”

He stopped in midstride just before his chamber door. “Hate you, Aurélie? I know you would not purposely end the very life you have longed for. Not even to spite me. Stop such talk.”

Hyatt stood still for a moment and moved out of the way so that Perrine could open the chamber door. She gasped at the sight within, frozen in shock. Hyatt, too, was immobile, for there lay Thea on the bed, motionless, and on the floor by the bed were the spilled remains of a tray of food and beside that, the dead body of a cat. Aurélie tried to lift her head to see, but any movement caused her senses to reel. “What is it, Hyatt?”

Nima pushed through them though they blocked the door. She alone had the courage to look at the corpse. Thea’s face was twisted in agony, her eyes open and her palms facing up. The cat lay stiff and cold on the floor and the wine and brewis had stained the rushes.

“This is the work of my poison,” Nima said.

“Thea brought this tray to Aurélie, but my lady refused it. She could not abide even the aroma.”

Nima turned watering eyes toward Hyatt, who still stood in the doorway. “Messire, this is the work of my granddaughter. Yea, Faon is of my flesh, though she kept it secret. She was twisted with bitterness and hate. I beg you to believe that I would not do such a thing. My mixes have always been for healing only, and not for death.”

“Then how do you explain possessing dangerous mixings, if not to use them?”

“It is many years of mixing and testing that I have endured to find the best of this and that. A certain root mixed with a certain vine can cure the flux, but the same root mixed with another plant can kill. ’Tis a mysterious occupation. The same potion that will draw pus from a wound and help it to heal will kill if swallowed. But I give my potions to stray animals to be assured they are not harmful and some of my strongest liniments have healed an aching back, but killed a rat. I have never meant to harm anyone, but Faon made me keep my talents mostly secret. I have been wrongly accused of witchcraft.”

“She was your granddaughter, then? And you lied when you said you were her nurse.”

“I am her grandmother and her nurse. I helped to raise her. Montrose threatened to have me tried and killed for sorcery, but I was only a healer, never a witch. Anyone who came to ill after my ministrations was not hurt by them, I swear. Faon protected me.”

“To have your witchcraft at her disposal, no doubt.”

Nima’s face fell. “You are right,
seigneur.
She wished to have me mix brews that would be useful to her … but I did not. Betimes I told her something would work, but I tricked her and never gave her anything that would do any harm. I am an old woman. I have to have a means to live.”

“Hyatt?” Aurélie murmured. “What do I hear? Thea is dead by Faon’s hand?”

“It seems that Faon meant to kill you, madame. You had better tell me what you’ve eaten.”

“Naught, Hyatt. The last I ate was beside you in the hall, from the same plate. We drank from the same pitcher. Poor Thea; is it too late?”

“Aye,” he said. He glanced briefly at Perrine and then turned with Aurélie in his arms, taking her back to the pallet in the weaving rooms rather than to a room befouled with death.

“Hyatt, bring the old woman to me. I have heard she is skilled. I will do anything to save this child I carry. Anything.”

He laid his wife down and looked at her through pained eyes. “You are young, Aurélie. If this child does not live, you will have another in a year. But without you, there cannot be another. ’Tis your life I would save.”

Aurélie lifted her hand and touched his brow as if she would smooth away the lines of worry. She knew not how pale her face was, how dull her eyes, how weak her touch. She did feel that her sickness worsened. “Hyatt, my besotted knight, how poorly you conceal your heart when you are met with some crisis.” He looked away uncomfortably. “ ’Tis of no matter, the words. You need not speak them. But know you this, lest even the old woman cannot help me. I love you.”

“I perceive that I am not gravely ill, but beset by some temporary difficulty and must see it through,” Aurélie told Hyatt. When Thea’s body had been removed, a brigade of women had entered Hyatt’s chamber and scoured the place from floor to ceiling. A new mattress stuffed with freshly cut, sweet-smelling grass replaced the old one, which was swiftly burned, even though the death that had befouled it was wrought of poison and not plague. It came as no surprise to find all the castlefolk of De la Noye to be concerned about their mistress, for it was well known they loved her. But fully panoplied warriors wearing the red and black of Hyatt clamored about, restless for any chore that would somehow aid the lady. When Hyatt selected one hulking lad to take Thea’s body from his chamber, the young knight did so eagerly, as if chosen for some elite position. Only a few hours had elapsed when Aurélie had been returned to her bed, her room, and despite Hyatt’s worried frown, Nima sat at her side.

“I do not feel well,” she said, “but neither do I prepare to die. A few days of peace and rest will do me well enough. Especially with Faon and Ryland both gone from my house.” She smiled weakly. “Your house,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Hyatt meant to sit at her sickbed, perched on the edge and holding her hand, but after an hour of this Aurélie protested.

“There is nothing you can do, messire. Seek a pallet of your own. Or lie here beside me and sleep.”

“I would stay, Aurélie. I do not wish to sleep and I am best placed watching over you.”

“Though Faon wished me harm, this ailment is not wrought of her evil hand, but the hand of fate. I will recover. No one else here means me harm. These are my friends. Go about your business and come to me when I am well.”

Thus he was rousted from the sickroom and left meandering about the hall and grounds without his mind, for his thoughts were in his chamber with his wife. His gaze was faraway, his steps errant and unguided, and his attention difficult to draw.

Percival approached him. “Sir Hyatt, is there anything my family can do for the lady?”

“Nay, Percival. It is best that we all leave her be for now. She needs rest.”

A knight who had ridden with Hyatt for six years sought him out. “The word passes through your troop that Lady Aurélie is ill, Sir Hyatt. She has always been kind to us; is there a way to help her now?”

Hyatt smiled with a touch of melancholy. “There remains some doubt that I have completely conquered this castle, but I see the lady has quelled my troop. Nay, there is nothing to do but hope that she recovers quickly.”

As the sun set and the hall emptied after the evening meal, Hyatt was without purpose. He could not find a comfortable place to roost, and he chose not to disturb his wife’s rest. He would have preferred a place at her side, but the old woman sat near and he would find no sleep with a spectator.