The Rose at Twilight (37 page)

Madeline turned white and went very still.

Alys said sharply, “Order that man to unhand her, Sir Lionel. I will not send my women away, for I do not trust your men to leave them in peace. Moreover, if you want to see supper on the table, you would do well to let my women attend to it. I see no sign of those servants you mentioned earlier.”

“They are below,” he said, “and will come when the others have been locked up. They are harmless enough, for they are more frightened of me than of a master they have never seen, so do not think they will aid you. But the women can stay and help. You are no doubt right about my men. Most have not had a woman in days, for we have been watching the roads for your party. I confess, I had hoped Sir Nick himself would bring you to me; but once I learned that Lovell has been making mischief hereabouts, I was not surprised to see your party limping in alone.”

Not long after the prisoners were led away, a few servants did appear, and with Ian’s help and that of Jonet and Elva, they began to prepare the evening meal. Alys watched with increasing appreciation the way in which Ian avoided drawing the attention of Sir Lionel or his men. He blended in with the other servants so well that were it not for his red hair, Alys herself would have been hard-pressed to pick him out.

The meal, when it was ready, was a trial, because Sir Lionel was by turns charming and surly, his clear intent to ingratiate himself with her foiled both by her own lack of response and by Madeline’s caustic comments. Afterward, when Alys would have liked to withdraw to another room with the other women, he prevented her, saying abruptly that he would like some music.

“I am certain,” he said, attempting to speak more politely, “that you have been improving your skill upon the lute, mistress. I would hear the result of your efforts, if you please.”

The reminder of her humiliation at Elizabeth’s hands annoyed Alys and tempted her to say she did not have a lute with her, but she decided against it. The lie was too easy to disprove, and the time might come when she would want him to believe a far more important one. The less experience he had then of what little skill she possessed for deception, the better it would be for all of them. She asked Ian to fetch her lute, and sat with it on a stool near the fire, plucking idly for a time. The other women occupied themselves as they usually did after supper, except for Madeline, who sat with her hands folded in her lap, glaring by turn at Sir Lionel and his men.

“Madeline,” Alys said, after she had been idly playing for some time, “pray, fetch me that bit of parchment on which Sir Nicholas wrote musical notes for me to practice. ’Tis in the pack yonder by the fire, the one from which Ian took the lute.”

If Madeline thought the request an odd one, especially since Ian was nearer the pack than she was, she did not say so, and Alys was grateful for her silence. Taking the parchment from her, Alys said in an undertone, “Do not be constantly challenging them with your eyes. ’Twill only make them the more alert. We shall do ourselves more good by submitting wherever possible, so as to make them think us harmless.”

“Speak louder, Lady Alys,” Sir Lionel commanded. “Your voice does please mine ear, and I would hear what you say to Mistress Fenlord.”

Alys, feeling warmth surge into her cheeks at having drawn his notice, hoped he would take the added color for maidenly blushes and said diffidently, “Please, sir, ’twas but female’s talk, not meant for masculine ears.”

“Nevertheless, madam, I would hear it. I will allow no secrets betwixt you here.”

“Forsooth, sir,” Madeline snapped, “if you must know, she was but saying she wanted me to accompany her to the garderobe. We trust not your men, nor you, but I do not doubt you will all insist upon bearing us company whilst we do relieve ourselves.”

“Madeline!” Alys fought down her amusement at the appalled look on Sir Lionel’s face, and struggled to appear as though Madeline’s forthrightness had shocked her.

Sir Lionel grimaced. “You may leave, the pair of you, but do not be gone long, else I will come searching for you, and you will be right sorry then to have put me to the trouble.”

Thinking swiftly as she arose to her feet, Alys glanced at Ian to see that the lad was surreptitiously watching her while he helped clear away the tables that had been set up for their supper. Shifting her glance pointedly toward the door leading onto the gallery, she looked back at him to see if he had understood her. His nod would have been unnoticeable to anyone not looking for it.

Sir Lionel said, “Shall I send one of my men to escort you?”

“I thank you, but no,” Alys said before Madeline could refuse the offer more rudely. “We shall not be gone long, sir.”

“See that you are not. And remember, your other women remain here with me. They will suffer if you play games with me, girl.”

Taking time only to set her lute aside and to shake out her skirts before hurrying to the gallery with Madeline close upon her heels, Alys went toward the northwest tower and nearly jumped out of her skin when a shape loomed up before her as she neared the spiral stair. “Ian! You nearly frightened the liver and lights out of me! I did not see you leave.”

“Sorry, mistress. They didna heed me. They be like most o’ their ilk, taking servants for naught but bits o’ furniture. I did ha’ a great pot o’ water in hand, and they didna think tae ask whither I were bound wi’ it.”

“Good. We dare not be long, Ian, but I want to show you the trick of the postern gate.”

“The gate, mistress?” He glanced around nervously.

“Aye, come below.”

“But the ladies’ garderobe lies abovestairs!”

Madeline said, “The gate is below, lack-wit!”

“Hush, Madeline,” Alys said softly. “That we are prisoners is not Ian’s fault, so do not berate him.” She was hurrying down the steps as she murmured the words, but she did not fear to be overheard. Sir Lionel’s men were not so many that he would have one posted at every turn. At the bottom, she peered out the tower door, then slipped through the darkness to the little gate set into the wall. “Here, Ian, look,” she said, silently opening it. Taking his hand, she placed it on the secret knob. “This knob controls the bolt from without. You can slip the bolt, go out, and then slip it back again from outside. The knob cannot be seen from either side if one does not know it exists.”

“Do I go at once then, mistress?”

The temptation to send him was nearly overwhelming, but she resisted it. “Not until the castle is asleep. You would be missed. We must hope he does not lock you in the dungeon with the others, but I think he has dismissed you as a danger. You have done well, Ian. Continue to be invisible amongst the other servants, and later, when all are asleep, you can slip out. This gate is not guarded now. It should not be later, either. Once you are safely away, you must find Sir Nicholas as quickly as you can and tell him what goes forth here.”

“I will do what I can, mistress, but it will take time tae find him, afoot as I’ll be.”

“You will not be afoot for long if you go downhill to the river—you can hear it now below us—then bear left to the nearest village. The villagers are loyal, and someone will have a horse. Then ride to Bawtry, for ’tis closer than Doncaster, and you can get word there of the king’s procession. If they have already ridden on to Doncaster, or even Pontefract, you must ride after them. If they have not yet reached Bawtry, take the forest road toward Nottingham until you meet them. I think they will have gone on ahead, though, for Sir Nicholas was to have met the Tudor at Barnsdale several days ago.”

“Come on,” Madeline said. “We must not linger here.”

“No, we must not,” Alys agreed, “but I hope you have no immediate need for the garderobe either, my girl, for we have no time left for such indulgence. We must get back to the hall before that villainous knave comes to look for us.”

Madeline nodded, her mood clearly lighter now that they had a course of action. Ian went ahead of them, disappearing almost at once in the dim light of the tower, and by the time they returned to the hall, he was back by the fire, adding logs to the blaze while one of the other menservants passed pewter mugs of burnt claret to Sir Lionel and his men.

Alys picked up her lute again and played for some time, and Madeline took her stool to sit near Jonet and Elva, helping Jonet sort the thread in her workbasket. An hour later, Alys yawned and said, “I hope you do not mean for us all to sleep here in the hall, sir, but even if you do, I must beg leave to retire. It has been a long, exhausting day.”

“Where are your rooms, mistress?”

“On the floor above this one, sir. If you look up there”—she pointed halfway up the high wall opposite the fireplace—“you will see yet another gallery like the one outside this room. My chamber is in the south tower at the end of that gallery. And if it please you, sir,” she added, rising, “I should like my things taken up, and my manservant to sleep on a pallet outside my door as he is accustomed to do. We should all feel safer thus.”

“What makes you think my men would not merely spit the lad on their swords to reach you, mistress? You are a prize worth the taking, as I have said before.” He leered at her over his wine, and several of his men laughed.

“The fact that you would visit your wrath upon them if they did, sir,” she replied dulcetly. “Though you have changed sides for expediency’s sake, I know you for a Yorkist knight at heart.”

“Do you now? Well, by all that’s holy, girl, I vow ’tis true enough that you may trust them to fear me.” He glared fiercely at those who had laughed, then turned back to her and said, “Take your lad then, and your belongings, and on the morrow, we will talk, you and I. You have spirit, wench, and I doubt not the pair of us can make something of this place in time. ’Tis in a dismal state at present, but that will change.”

“Aye, sir,” she replied, nearly choking on the words. “Come, Ian, and you others. ’tis time and more we were abed.”

Upstairs, with Ian conspicuously placed on a pallet outside the door to the large bedchamber she had chosen—not because it had ever been her own but because she had remembered it was spacious enough for them all to stay together without tripping over one another—Alys explained to Jonet what they had planned.

Jonet was helping Elva set out thick pallets for themselves and Madeline near the fireplace. The room had been sparsely furnished as a guest chamber, and since Madeline preferred to sleep alone, Alys was to have the only bed to herself. “’Tis to be hoped Ian finds the master quick,” Jonet said, shaking out a quilt. “That Sir Lionel is no gentle knight, mistress. The more I see of him, the less I admire the late King Richard’s judgment of men if he could think that one a suitable match for you!”

Alys sighed. “He did make some fearful errors of judgment, did he not? But Ian will find Sir Nicholas. He must.”

“If he can get out of the castle,” Madeline said doubtfully.

Alys rounded on her. “I don’t know why you insist on making difficulties,” she snapped. “First you challenge Gwilym at every turn. Then you spit at Sir Lionel when it can do us no good at all. And now you cast doubts on the only plan that can help us.”

“Now then, mistress,” Jonet said soothingly, “she meant no harm by it. ’Tis a pity, I’m thinking, that that gormless gowk, Hugh Gower, cannot be here when he might prove useful for once.”

Madeline smiled ruefully at Alys. “She is right, although I should prefer a whole troop of Hugh Gowers to put these fiends properly in their places. Instead we have only Gwilym, who puts himself at risk for no good cause, but only to … to … and here I thought he did not care a whit—Oh, I talk nonsense. Pay me no heed!” And before Alys could think of a word to say to her, tears began streaming down Madeline’s face, and she said, sobbing, “Oh, Alys, do you think they are safe?”

Alys knew now that she was thinking of only one man, and saw nothing to be gained by pointing out that she knew no more about the condition of the men in the dungeon than Madeline did. Soothing her as best she could, she persuaded her to make ready for bed. Madeline obeyed but said she would sleep in her smock since, once Ian had gone, Sir Lionel’s men might come in. Alys considered following her example but decided she would not give Sir Lionel the satisfaction of intimidating her. Before climbing into bed, she wrapped her robe around her and opened the door onto the gallery to see how Ian fared.

He smiled at her. “All’s nesh, m’lady. ’Tis as if they think I’m setting guard here on their ain account. I took a peek doon yonder stair tower, and there be not a sign of armor betwixt here and the wee gate. ’Twill be a miracle, I’m thinkin’, if they e’en miss me wi’ the dawnin’.”

Alys hoped he was right, but the hope lasted only until she was rudely awakened the following morning to find not only Sir Lionel’s soldiers in the chamber but Sir Lionel himself. He stood watching from the threshold while his men searched every inch of the room, overturning coffers and spilling the contents onto the floor. Madeline, Jonet, and Elva were yanked roughly from their pallets, and when Sir Lionel ordered Alys to arise—with only a quilt wrapped around her to cover her nakedness—the mattress on her bed was torn off and shaken as if the men expected to find someone hidden within it. Sir Lionel was livid, and the men holding the women were not gentle. When Elva cried out with pain, Alys said sharply, “Make them stop!”

“Where is he?”

Alys nearly asked whom he meant, but the look on his face deterred her, and she said, “Far away, I hope. You said you wanted a word with Sir Nicholas Merion. I have only put forward your meeting, sir, though I doubt it will go as you planned.”

“Oh, it will still go the same,” he growled, “but you will not enjoy the waiting as you seem to think you will, my girl.” He made a gesture toward the others. “Take them below and throw them in with the men.”

“No!” Alys cried. “You cannot do such a thing!”

“Do you not trust even the men who brought you here?”

“Oh.” Alys breathed a sigh of relief and moved to follow the others.

“No, no, little heiress,” he said, barring her way. “You do not go with them. You will remain here with me for a spell.”