Margo Maguire (21 page)

Taking the ax handle in hand, she started pounding on all the walls, hoping to find a hollow sound, or mayhap a weak spot, but she found naught. She knelt near one of the walls and bruised her hands using the ax blade to dig, even though she was afraid the effort would avail her naught.

Glad to be rid of Wulfgar and his paltry band of rebels, Edric walked through his hall and took
the steps like a starving man with the promise of a meal abovestairs. He hurried to the nursery, and shoved open the door without knocking, ready to take Kate into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless.

The chamber was empty.

No matter, she was likely sitting with Bryce, as she often did, visiting with him as she knitted the blanket for Aidan. Edric went looking for her in his brother’s chamber, but found Bryce dozing lightly. He roused him and asked if he’d seen Kate.

With a negative response from Bryce, Edric went back to the hall and soon heard the sound of Aidan’s demanding cry. He followed the sound, certain that wherever his son was, there he would find Kate.

Aidan was in the kitchen, but there was no sign of Kate, and Gwen was desperately trying to feed the bairn. The cook and two scullery maids hovered nearby, offering advice, but Gwen was not successful.

A feeling of dread took hold of Edric, deep in his belly. Kate might be upset—or even angry—with him, but she would not go off in a temper, leaving Aidan to the mercy of the servants.

“My lord,” said the cook, “we’ve all tried to feed the bairn, but he—”

“Give him to me.” Distracted by worry, he sat
down and took Aidan into his arms. Someone handed him the crock of milk and he put the nipple into Aidan’s mouth. Immediately, the child quieted and started drinking.

Edric hardly gave a thought to the odd circumstance, but fed his son as he questioned the staff. “Has anyone seen Kate?”

All but Gwen shook their heads.

“Where did you see her last?” he asked the lass.

“Wh-when Father Algar shouted at her…she gave me the bairn and ran from the hall.”

“In what direction?”

“Back this way. I think she ran out through the kitchen garden while you were chasing those men from the keep.”

’Twas a start. Likely Kate had gone to Lora’s cottage.

He left the keep and hastened through the rain toward the east postern gate, then picked up speed as he crossed the bridge and moved through the village toward Lora’s cottage. He recognized he’d been a fool to ignore all that he felt for Kate. She might be Norman, but she was nothing like Cecily, and from the first time he’d seen her, so terrified and vulnerable under Léod Ferguson’s bulky form, he’d wanted her. He’d wanted to kill Ferguson just for touching her.

His hands itched to touch his woman, to pull
her into his arms and tell her she’d heard him wrong…that he truly wanted her for his wife.

And that he loved her
.

She had done what no other maiden could do, seducing him with her gentle ways and the loving attention she gave to him and his son. They’d come full circle, with Edric falling oh so deeply for the woman he’d thought he wanted only for a bedmate.

He arrived at the cottage and knocked at Lora’s door. Elga answered, stepping aside for Edric to enter. “Where’s Kate?” he asked.

“Not here, my lord,” Elga replied as Lora came through the curtain that led to the back room.

“Is she not with Aidan?” Lora asked.

“Aidan is with the maids at the keep, but I cannot find—”

“What reason would she have to leave the bairn with your servants? She is never without him.”

K
athryn was going to die in that hole. She was certain of it…at least, as certain as she could be of anything. The air was almost gone and she felt dizzy from its lack. She’d tried digging her way out with the ax-head, but all she’d done was to deplete what little air there was, making herself light-headed and weak.

No one would ever know what had happened to her.

She lay down on her side and curled into a shivering ball, wondering if this fate was better
than the one she’d have met had Léod Ferguson managed to keep her.

Aye. ’Twas.

She’d fallen in love with Edric and his tiny son. She’d have made Edric a good wife, if only he’d wanted one, for she loved him beyond reason. She’d taken him to her bed and given him all that she had, all that she was, without benefit of marriage or the promise of a future.

She wondered if there would be talk of her…of the Norman who’d come to care for Lord Edric’s bairn and then disappeared without a word, without a trace. She’d come with naught but her ragged clothes, and left with naught.

The idea that all would believe she’d left Braxton Fell—left Edric and Aidan, and all her friends—was abhorrent to her. She was no shallow varlet who cared naught for the man who shared her bed, naught for the bairn who depended upon her.

She did care. Desperately.

And in her desperation, she raised herself onto her knees and started ’round her tiny prison once again, searching for the opening, for there
must
be one. She picked up the ax handle again and tapped every surface of every wall, but she discovered nothing more than what she’d found the last ten times she’d done it. Solid walls of clay.

Hungering for air, she sat back in frustration
and confusion, certain that her mind could not be functioning properly, else she would be able to do something about her plight. Suddenly, the darkness seemed not quite so thick. Kathryn saw faint flickers of light all ’round her, and heard the soft murmur of voices in her ears. She knew they could not be real, for she’d scoured every corner of her prison and found naught but hard, packed dirt.
No one was here, no one could help her!

Leaning against a wall, she pressed her hands against her ears in despair, trying to block out the phantom voices, but the low sounds penetrated nonetheless. “There is a way out,
ma petite
. You must find it.”

Kathryn recognized the voice of Soeur Agnes, yet the old nun could not possibly be here with her. “I know,
ma soeur,
but I’ve tried everything,” she cried, afraid that she was losing her mind. She had to get out and get some air!

“No, you have not.” This time it was Isabel’s stern voice.

Kathryn could almost see her sister, the talented one, the beautiful one.
Isabel
would never have let Oswin get the better of her. She’d have fought back and won against the old man, then exposed him for the traitor he was. Edric would be proud to have such a capable woman for his wife. No doubt
Isabel
would be able to engender all the tender feelings a
man should feel for a woman, feelings that would inspire him to make his marital vows to her.

“Do not be a fool, Kathryn,” said Isabel. “He cares for you…else he would not be such a considerate lover. He would not look so fondly upon you as you care for his son. And he would have sent you to Evesham Bridge the moment you mentioned it.”

“No—”

“There is a way out. You must find it and go back to those who love you!”

Isabel was wrong. There was no way to leave. No one who loved her. In a haze of regret, she raised the ax handle and brought it down hard into the ground.

“Did you hear that?” asked Soeur Agnes.

“No. There was naught,” Kathryn replied. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face, but they did not matter. She was essentially blind, anyway, so there was no reason to brush them away.

“But there was, Kathryn,” said Isabel’s voice. It swirled ’round her, taunting her with words that made no sense. “In the ceiling. When you bumped the ceiling with the ax handle, there was another sound. Wood.”

“Wood? Up here?” She dropped the wood
handle and raised her hands to feel for it, for some small spark of hope.

“You are right,” she whispered. The air was even thinner now and it hurt her lungs to breathe. “I feel it.”

With all the effort she could muster, Kathryn ran her hands across the plank, assessing its size. If she could believe her senses, it just might be a door, large enough for her to slip through. She pushed on it, but it did not move. Rising up to her hands and knees, she used her back and shoulders to push, but again, it did not budge.

“What will I do?”

“The ax handle,” Isabel whispered. “If you pound loud enough and long enough, someone will hear.”

While talking with Lora, Edric’s feeling of dread returned. “I said something that…She thinks I…” By God, the priest had called her a whore and Edric had not chastised the man or corrected him. “She believes I care naught for her.”

“Edric, how can that be so? You—Oh, dear.” Lora pressed a hand to the center of her chest, but asked no further questions.

“She’s not at the keep,” said Edric. “I thought I’d find her here.”

“No. No one has come since Gildas left with Drogan. That’s been quite some time ago.”

“Has she spoken of Evesham Bridge in recent days?” Edric asked, grasping at straws.

Lora shook her head. “No, my lord. She would not leave Aidan…Or you. What she feels for you is evident in her eyes every time she looks at you.”

Edric had seen it, too, but denied it, unwilling to accept her love.

He made a quick search of the village before returning to the keep. ’Twas full dark and he hardly noticed that he was soaked to the skin. He sent Caedmon in search of Oswin, and Modig out to the fells to summon Drogan. Then he went into the kitchen where Gwen was sitting by the stove holding Aidan, who had cried himself to sleep.

Edric wasted not a minute. “Gwen, did you see Kate leave the keep?”

“No, my lord,” Gwen whispered. “She handed the bairn to me, then ran toward the back door.”

“Past the chapel, past my study?”

Gwen nodded. “She must have gone through the kitchen garden and on to the barn.”

“Take Aidan to the nursery and put him to bed. Stay with him there,” Edric said to Gwen.

With worry clawing at his gut, Edric headed out toward the barn, retracing Kate’s steps through the back passageway. Stopping when he noticed
that the door to his study was ajar, he pushed inside and saw papers strewn about. The ledger in which Oswin so painstakingly recorded every barrel of ale and every bushel of wheat was on the floor under the table.

Something untoward transpired here.

Oh,
Jesu
. Kate had come this way.

“My lord?” ’Twas Caedmon’s voice.

“In here,” he called out to the lad.

“I cannot find Oswin,” Caedmon said, his eyes going over the disorder in the room. “He is not in his quarters, nor in the stable. No one has seen him.”

Edric muttered a curse. “Gather all the grooms in the hall. Kate is missing and I think Oswin might…” Might what? Edric wondered. Might harm her? By the appearance of his study, he’d already done some harm.

Edric’s stomach clenched at the thought of it. Was Oswin’s hostility great enough to cause him to hurt Kate? After the incident with Wulfgar, Edric did not know what to think, or rather he preferred not to think of what damage Oswin was capable of doing.

Still, the steward could not have left through the main gates, for Edric and his men had been there, escorting Wulfgar and his party from the estate. But mayhap the postern gate…

Grabbing one of the wall sconces, Edric hastened through the door with Caedmon right behind him. “Oswin might have taken her somewhere. We must search every inch of the keep, starting with the battlements and working our way down to the cellar. Tell the maids to look inside every chamber. Get someone to go down to the postern gate and ask the cottars if anyone has seen Oswin in the last few hours.”

Caedmon wasted no time, but hurried down the passageway and out of sight. With only his instincts to guide him, Edric went to the cellar door and descended the wooden steps. He could not allow himself to think what Oswin might have already done to Kate, but berated himself for neglecting to see how the man’s hatred had compelled him. Edric should have anticipated some rash act and dealt with him sooner. He hoped and prayed he was not too late.

Naught was disturbed in the ale room. There were no footprints in the packed-dirt floor, no sign of anyone having come through. Edric looked for a door, a passageway, any place where Oswin might have taken her, but he saw naught.

Quickly retracing his steps, he headed back to the great hall, but collided with Lora, her cloak soaked with the rain. “I heard from Caedmon. Where would Oswin have taken her?”

“He could not have gone far.” Fear hovered just beneath the surface. Every muscle in Edric’s body clenched tightly at the thought of where Kate was and what might already have happened.

“Edric, you must calm yourself,” Lora said. “Kate needs you now, she needs your taut discipline and all your training.”

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and chin. “Aye. You’re right. Come with me to the battlements.”

“You don’t think he means to—”

“No. If he’d intended to push her off, he’d have done so already.”

“Then—”

“There is nowhere else to look!” he shouted in frustration. “He would have had a great deal of difficulty going outside the walls. Where else could he…
Jesu!
The old keep!”

Taking Lora’s elbow and spinning her ’round, he pulled her down the back passageway and left the keep. Lora could not keep up with Edric’s speed, so he let go of her and ran ahead where he spied a dark figure standing at one of the tower windows of the old keep. Its shutters were open, and as the man leaned out, the driving rain soaked him.

’Twas Oswin!

Edric made it to the door and found it barred. Using all the strength he possessed, he threw
himself against it repeatedly. Finally it gave way and Edric nearly fell into the old hall.

’Twas dark inside, but he remembered it well and knew where to find a torch. Quickly, he lit it and headed up the stairs toward the tower where he’d seen Oswin. He heard Lora following, but did not stop for her, his attention fully focused on keeping Oswin from pushing Kate from the tower.

“Oswin!” he called. “This is not the way to gain my favor!”

“Your favor is useless, traitor!”

“Kate!”

She did not answer, but Edric heard Oswin step outside the window and onto the tower’s ledge. His heart filled his throat when he thought of the terror Kate must be feeling. ’Twas worse than dangerous. ’Twas almost certainly a fatal drop from that window to the ground.

“Oswin, hear me well! If you harm the woman I intend to wed, you will be cast out of Braxton Fell, never to return!”

“You will never find her!”

Did that mean she was not with the steward?

Edric entered the tower room and saw that all the shutters were thrown open. He thrust his torch into one of the sconces and cautiously approached the window where Oswin had climbed to the ledge
outside. ’Twas a precarious stance in the wind and pelting rain, but the steward showed no fear.

“Where is she?” Edric demanded.

Oswin did not reply, but crossed his arms over his chest and laughed, as if he were not standing on an unsound perch in the worst possible circumstances. Clearly, he was deranged, and Edric felt helpless to deal with him. He was shaking with frustration when Lora entered the chamber behind him.

“Try another approach, Edric,” she said quietly. “Cajole him.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Oswin, come inside. We can talk.”

The steward made no reply, but sidled away from the window. Edric looked down at Lora. “He must have hidden her. But where?”

Lora shook her head. “Shall I keep talking to him while you search the keep?”

“Aye.” Edric’s heart still pounded in his throat. He could not recall the last time he’d felt such agitation, such absolute fear. Edric did not think there was a nook or a crevice in this building that he did not know. Yet where could Oswin have stashed her?

“’Twas the Norman who ruined everything!” Oswin shouted. “All my plans! The letters…the discontent…the mill…”

“He is raving. Go, Edric, go and find Kate!”

Oswin began to rant. “You listen only to her, but she is accursed! I will not…I will not…”

They heard a rough clatter and rushed to the window, instinctively aware of what Oswin had done. They could do naught as they watched the steward fall to the ground far below.

Oswin lay quiet and still, his body bent and broken, clearly dead.

“God’s breath!” Edric muttered, shocked by what Oswin had done. Yet he wasted no more time, grabbing the torch and heading toward the stairs.

“Take the rooms up here!” he said to Lora.

She started with the chamber where his parents had slept for all the years of their marriage. There would be no separate bedchambers for him and Kate, either. He
would
find her, and after they were wed, they would share the intimacy of one bedchamber for the rest of their lives.

He hastened down the steps and met Drogan, just coming into the hall, looking pale and shaken. “My lord, Oswin has—”

“I know. Quick. We must find Kate. I fear Oswin has done her some harm before hiding her away.”

“She is here?”

“I don’t know.
Damnation, I can’t
—”

“Listen. Do you hear that?”

Edric could only hear the pounding of his heart.

“Down below,” said Drogan. “The cellar!”

Edric heard it then, a faint, dull hammering. Together the two men rushed to the small kitchen at the back of the hall and threw open the cellar door. The pounding stopped, and Edric wondered if he’d imagined hearing it, desperate as he was.

They stood still and listened. “Where could she be?” asked Drogan.

Edric made no reply, but descended the steps. The racks that had once held barrels of ale were still in place, with a number of heavy kegs stacked upon them. They searched every corner of the cellar, but saw no sign of Kate, although Edric noticed tracks in the hard dirt floor. “Drogan, look!”