Secret Heart (32 page)

They continued up stairways and through
passages that became wider and higher as they progressed. Before
long the men were all striding erect and moving in pairs. They met
no one until they emerged into a small chamber on the third level
of the castle.

“
This is
the linen room,” Jenia said to Garit.

“
Most men
wouldn’t look for a secret door in such a place. Linens are just
not
manly
enough.” Garit appeared to have regained his composure. He
grinned at Jenia and moved aside to let Lord Giles enter the
room.

Jenia could hear the quiet shuffle of booted
feet as the rest of their company halted to await their next orders
from Roarke.

“
We won’t
all fit into this room,” Lord Giles remarked, looking around at the
shelves of folded sheets and extra quilts. The scent of sweet
gallinum filled the air, strewn on the floor to prevent vermin from
finding a home among the valuable fabrics.

“
We don’t
need to fit,” Roarke said in the firm tone of a knight who knew he
was in command and knew what to do next.

Hearing him, Jenia took courage, though Sanal
looked worried. Or perhaps, Jenia thought, her aunt was
frightened.

“
Garit,”
Roarke said, “take your men and secure the great hall and then the
battlements. Lord Giles, see to the barracks and the inner and
outer bailey. Jenia, keep a close watch on your aunt. If she tries
any tricks, use this.” He held out his knife.

Jenia stared at it, willing her fingers to
curve around the handle. It was the same knife that had so
terrified her on their first night together, at the little, seaside
inn because it looked so much like the knife that had been used to
stab Chantal.

She heard
Lord Giles issuing quiet commands and she stepped aside as his
squires and men-at-arms emerged from the tunnel. It seemed as if
only a moment passed before they were gone. Garit’s men from
Auremont came next, filing silently through the linen room and out
to the corridor that Jenia knew lay beyond. And still she stood
there, staring at Roarke’s knife.

“
Take
it,” he ordered. His face was hard and his eyes were fierce when
they met hers. “You need a weapon.”

“
Not
against me, she doesn’t,” Sanal cried. “Sir Roarke, I have brought
you here as I promised. Surely, you know by now that you can trust
me.”

“
I will
trust you completely when Thury is ours,” Roarke said. “Until then,
I trust only Jenia and the men I have brought with me. Take the
knife, Jenia.”

Slowly,
unwillingly, her gaze never leaving Roarke’s face, Jenia placed her
hand on the knife hilt. When Roarke let it go and she finally held
the full weight of it, she lowered her arm until the blade was
concealed within the folds of her cloak.

“
Good,”
Roarke said, nodding. “Now, stay close to me, both of you. Come on,
Elwin,” he called softly to his squire, who was armed with the
short sword that squires used for practicing. Unlike Jenia, Elwin
looked ready to use his weapon.

By the time they reached the great hall the
servants, many of whom Jenia recognized, were gathered in a
frightened looking group that was guarded by a few men from
Auremont. From the entry hall came the sounds of steel upon steel
as weapons clashed.

“
You and
Lady Sanal stay here,” Roarke ordered Jenia. He and Elwin hurried
in the direction of the noise.

“
Lady
Chantal,” cried a maidservant, “you’ve come home at last. We feared
we’d never see you again. Oh, please, my lady, tell us what is
happening. And Lady Sanal, where have you been these last few days?
Did you travel to Calean City with Lord Walderon after all? He was
most annoyed with you before he left,” the maid ended with a sly
smirk at Sanal.

Unhappy at the need for more lies, Jenia
stifled a sigh. She knew her pretence of being the rightful lady of
Thury would aid Roarke and his friends in holding the castle, yet
she hated to fool the simple folk who had loved Chantal. She wanted
to find another way. Thinking quickly, holding Sanal by the wrist,
Jenia stepped onto the dais where the high table was.

“
Go on,”
Sanal whispered to her. “Speak to them. You can assure their
cooperation better than I can. You heard the way that maid spoke to
me. These people associate me with Walderon. They only obeyed me
because they feared him.”

“
Good
people,” Jenia said, raising her voice to address everyone in the
hall, “Lady Sanal left Thury to find Lord Giles and his company and
bring us here. The men who came with us will hold the castle until
King Henryk grants it to a new lord. My Uncle Walderon may return
within the next day or so and try to seize Thury, but he will not
succeed.”

Her speech was interrupted by a resounding
cheer from the servants and from a few middle-aged men-at-arms who
came into the hall in time to hear the last sentences. The men were
driven there at swordpoint by Roarke and Lord Giles, who promptly
joined Jenia and Sanal on the dais.

“
It
wasn’t much of a fight. These fellows surrendered as soon as I
explained our purpose here,” Roarke grumbled to the ladies. “Too
bad, I say. I’d enjoy a good excuse to punish a few of Walderon’s
men for their deeds, and his. But it seems Lady Sanal was correct
that most of those who are loyal to Walderon rode to Calean City as
his escort. Perhaps he thought he’d need protection there more than
he required security here.”

“
He was
always much too confident,” Sanal remarked. “I gave up trying to
warn him of that particular character flaw years ago, when I
realized he would never listen to me.”

“
I cannot
lie to these people,” Jenia said to Roarke. “I haven’t spoken an
untruth so far, but they believe I am Chantal. I think I should
tell them what happened to her.”

“
I
agree,” Roarke said. “Knowing what was done to Chantal will ensure
their resistance to Walderon when he returns.”

“
People
of Thury,” Jenia declared, stepping to the edge of the dais and
raising her voice once more, “look well at me. You know me because
I spent a good portion of my youth here at Thury. I am not Chantal;
I am her cousin, Jenia of Gildeley. I regret to tell you that
Chantal is dead. She was murdered on the order of Lord
Walderon.”

Jenia
paused to allow time for the exclamations of shock and grief to die
down before she continued. When the hall was quiet enough for her
to be heard she spoke again, leaving nothing out, for she felt
certain the terrible details would turn any lingering sentiment on
Walderon’s behalf into anger against him.

Garit returned to the great hall as Jenia
finished her speech. She noticed several of the women touching his
arm or patting him on the back, apparently offering words of
sympathy and encouragement. Garit bore the outpouring of emotion
with his jaw firmly set and his eyes glistening. After a few
moments he left the hall.

“
You’ve
convinced them,” Roarke told Jenia. “My thanks. Holding a castle is
much easier when the folk within it are cooperative.”

“
I’ve
hurt Garit in the process,” Jenia said, stepping off the dais as
she spoke. “Excuse me, please, Roarke. I want to speak with
him.”

She found him in a far corner of the entry
hall, where three doors stood open. One of the doors led to the
chapel, and Garit moved inside. Jenia hastened to him.

“
I’m so
sorry,” she said. “I know you did not want to hear the dreadful
story told yet again.”

“
You had
to do it, Jenia. It was the quickest way to gain the allegiance of
those people.” He moved a few steps farther into the chapel, gazing
at the simple space with the unadorned altar and the round window
above it that depicted the sun in the heavenly blue sky. “Did
Chantal spend much time in here? I seem to feel her
presence.”

“
Not when
we were children. In those days, we were too busy being naughty to
think much about praying. But later, yes, she did come here. After
she met you, and while Walderon was trying to make her agree to
marry Lord Malin, she was often on her knees before this
altar.”

“
She
hasn’t been in this chapel for more than half a year. I cannot stay
here.” Garit turned abruptly and left.

Jenia hurried after him, catching up to him
in the entry hall.

“
I wish I
knew how to comfort you,” she began.

Her words
were cut off by the distant sound of a door slamming shut. For a
moment Jenia froze where she stood. Then she grabbed at Garit’s arm
for support.

“
Did you
hear that?” she whispered.

“
A door
closed somewhere,” Garit answered.

“
Down
there.” Jenia turned to regard the other two doors.

“
Where do
they lead?” Garit asked. “Do you know?”

“
That
one,” she said, pointing to the middle door, “leads down a short
staircase to a lower level storeroom where extra weapons are kept.
But the third door leads to steps that descend even lower, to the
castle dungeon.” She shivered as a chill swept over her.

“
It’s
natural if the thought of a dungeon upsets you,” Garit said. He
placed his hand over her fingers still clutching his sleeve and
urged her away. “Come back to the great hall where it’s warmer and
brighter. I’ll find a cup of wine and some bread and cheese for
you. Then, I am going to take a few of my men and investigate the
dungeon. It’s possible that Walderon has some innocents in chains
down there. Or men loyal to him may have secretly taken refuge
there.” Garit’s free hand caressed his sword hilt.

“
When you
go into the dungeon,” Jenia told him, “I am going with
you.”

“
Whyever
would you want to do that?” Garit asked.

“
Because
of the sound that slamming door made,” Jenia told him. “It’s not
the first time I’ve heard that exact, same sound.”

Garit made her sit down in the great hall and
eat while he spoke to Roarke and then assembled some of his men.
Sanal was nowhere to be seen. When Jenia inquired about her, she
was told her aunt was overseeing the preparation of guest rooms for
the three nobles who had led their men into Thury to take it
without a single death. The same servant informed her that Lord
Giles was deciding the order of duty for the sentries who would
stand watch during that day and night.

By the time Jenia had swallowed some bread
and a cup of wine, Garit and six of his men were ready to inspect
the dungeon.

“
Elwin
and I are going, too,” Roarke told her. “There’s no telling what
we’ll discover down there. I wish you would stay behind, but
knowing you, I suppose you’ll refuse even a direct
order.”

“
Indeed,
I will,” Jenia responded.

“
Very
well, then,” he told her. “I will let Garit lead this expedition
while I stay with you, in case you need protection.”

“
Protection from what?” she scoffed in an attempt to hide
the uneasiness she was feeling. “Our men-at-arms and Lord Giles’s
squires are all over this castle.”

“
Have you
forgotten how Thury is riddled with secret passages and peepholes?
Who can say what lurks in the dungeon?” Roarke asked in a teasing
way that Jenia guessed was intended to convince her not to worry.
“Garit is right to question whether we have rooted out all of
Walderon’s people,” he added more seriously.

Though Jenia tried to conceal how reluctant
she was to descend to the dungeon, she found it increasingly
difficult to walk down the stairs with a steady tread and she was
very glad to have Roarke beside her. The air grew colder and damper
the lower they went, and the taste and smell of the air became ever
more familiar.

“
I
suppose all dungeons smell alike,” she murmured to Roarke as they
reached the landing at the first level, where a roughly made table
and a single chair marked the warder’s post. Keys hung from hooks
set into the stone walls, but the doors to all of the cells on this
level were open, except for one.

At
Garit’s order a man-at-arms tried several of the keys in the lock
until the heavy wooden door creaked open. An emaciated, dirty man
cowered within. The slop bucket provided for him was overflowing
and the stench that issued from the cell nearly overpowered
Jenia.

“
Two of
you, take him upstairs,” Roarke commanded, stepping forward.
“Elwin, go with the men-at-arms. Ask if anyone recognizes this
fellow. Try to find out what his crime was. See that he’s bathed
and given food and clean clothes, but keep a close watch on him
until I join you. We don’t want to turn a violent person
loose.”

“
Knowing
Walderon, the poor soul probably only filched an extra cup of
wine,” Garit remarked. Turning to the next set of steps that led to
an even lower level, he beckoned to his men. “Come on, Anders and
the rest of you. Let’s see what else we can discover. Or
who
else.”

Jenia let Garit and his men go ahead while
she remained close to Roarke until he had finished giving orders to
his squire. Her discomfort at the thought of continuing was growing
stronger with each passing moment, yet she would not stop.

“
This
staircase is narrower than the last,” Roarke remarked. The torch he
carried sent dark shadows and glaring highlights playing across his
sharp features and dark hair, making him appear almost demonic. Yet
to Jenia, he represented safety. “I’ll go first. Stay close behind
me and keep one hand on my shoulder.”