Fatal Truths (The Anarchy Medieval Romance) Read online

  He dismounted, his legs stiff, his body weary and muddied, glad to hand the reins to a robed ostler.

  “Mes seigneurs the Earl of Ellesmere and your brothers await you in the Prior’s parlor,” the monk explained, indicating a path that led away from the imposing main door of the Abbaye.

  Alex followed the path, the loose stones crunching beneath his boots, looking for another entryway, when Gallien, Laurent and Romain came hurrying out to meet him.

  The four embraced heartily.

  Alex was immensely relieved his youngest brother had survived his harrowing mission. “I’m proud of you,” he told Laurent.

  “Praise be to the saints you are alive, mon frère,” Romain said. “Did you find Elayne?”

  Before he had a chance to reply, Gallien interrupted. “I’m relieved you’ve come to your senses and decided to renounce the oath to Maud. However, you’ve more mud on you than a horse. We’ll get you a bath and something to break your fast.”

  Alex waved him off. “There’s no time to be concerned about that. Maud has arrived at Geoffrey’s encampment. We must gather our forces.”

  Laurent put a hand on his shoulder. “Patience, Alex, we have already mustered all our men and Gallien’s. They are ready to leave at a moment’s notice. But Gallien is right. If you are to see the king, you must bathe and eat first. You’ve ridden all night.”

  Alex scratched his head, discovering his hair was indeed full of dried mud. “King?”

  “Stephen is here and has commanded that you attend him as soon as possible.”

  A cold certainty took hold of Alex. “Where am I to meet him?”

  His three companions answered as one. “In the castle.”

  He knew now the hopeless terror of the wild boar cornered by the hunters. Trapped. No escape. At least the boar would fight to the death. Alex could not refuse to attend the King. It was imperative he do so since he had vital information to impart.

  He swallowed his dread. “Lead on to the hot water,” he quipped.

  ~~~

  REEKING OF SOAP that had a distinctly monastic smell and wearing Laurent’s clothes, Alex walked with his cousin into Caen castle, his heart pounding wildly, his belly in knots. He paused briefly before passing through the final gate.

  “I know it’s hard for you,” Gallien said softly. “This is the first time you’ve ever been here, isn’t it?”

  Alex nodded, his throat constricting.

  His cousin put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes, the more you know, the better off you are.”

  Alex frowned. “Your meaning escapes me.”

  Gallien took his arm. “Walk with me, cousin. Do you recall that it was I who told you about your father’s experience with the cat while he was in prison, how the animal’s warmth gave him hope and so he called it Espérance?”

  “Oui. It was during the campaign in Flandres you told me.”

  “I was surprised you hadn’t known about that and how the mewling of a cat later helped my father and oncle Caedmon find him in the oubliette.”

  Jealous indignation touched its cold fingers to the back of Alex’s neck, but Gallien carried on. “But then I realized I knew all these things because my father and oncle Caedmon shared them with me, whereas your father wanted to spare you the horrific details of his imprisonment.”

  Guilt replaced indignation. Alex had made it hard for his father to make up for the time they’d lost. Had his aloofness also rendered it impossible for his father to speak of his incarceration?

  Gallien put an arm around his shoulder. “Did you know, for example, your father was brought here bound to a horse and blindfolded, wearing only a penitent’s robe?”

  Alex wanted to close his eyes, to shut out the brutal picture, but his silver haired cousin was evidently determined to make him face his demons. He looked back down the cobbled path they had walked, conjuring an image of his father’s arrival in Caen. Romain and Laurent had paused a little way behind them, watching.

  My brothers already know of this, and I’m just learning of it now.

  “He probably didn’t know where he was,” he rasped.

  “Non, he didn’t. Nor did he have any idea where your mother was, or even if she was still alive.”

  Alex’s legs trembled as the intense fear and uncertainty his father must have felt in the very spot where he now stood kicked him in the gut.

  “I’d better stop now, or King Stephen will think my noble cousin is an ashen-faced invalid. However, before we leave here, we’re going to seek out the oubliette.”

  ~~~

  IN THE DAY AND A HALF since Maud’s arrival, Elayne had worn a noticeable path in the rug covering the dirt floor of their tent.

  They’d been left alone for now, other than being brought food and drink, and water for washing. More pressing matters evidently occupied Maud and Geoffrey’s attention. How long would that last? Sooner or later, they would send for the royal hostages, and their subterfuge would be discovered. There was no escape from the camp, short of walking away. She could only hope to beg mercy from the reputedly ruthless former Empress.

  She silently cursed again her father-by-marriage who had deliberately and knowingly put their lives at risk. But if they hadn’t been sent to Normandie she would never have met Alex.

  She folded her arms across her belly, filled with a despairing longing. What if she’d conceived a child? If she survived Maud’s wrath, what hope for another bastard, a babe born of an adulterous union?

  She’d be cast out, deemed unsuited to tending royal children.

  “Please stop pacing, Maman,” Henry begged in a whisper, whittling a piece of wood with his father’s dagger. “You’re upsetting Claricia. Sing for us instead.”

  If she sang, she would drown in a puddle of tears. “I cannot, Henry.”

  Faol came to his feet unexpectedly and loped to the open tent flap, looking out, growling.

  The friendly soldier appeared with two other guards. “Their Majesties request the presence of Prince Henry and Princess Claricia,” he announced with a smile.

  She reached for her playd, but he shook his head. “Non, just the children. They did not ask for you.”

  Claricia cast a panicked glance at her. Henry came to his feet stiffly. She brushed dirt off her son’s leggings and straightened her daughter’s hair. “Be brave,” she whispered, struggling to ignore the adder coiled around her bowels. “I am with you in my heart. May you indeed have the strength of the universe, and the strength of the sun, my angels.”

  Henry smiled bravely, gripped the hilt of his dagger, took his sister’s trembling hand and walked out of the tent in the company of the soldiers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  AS KING STEPHEN EMBRACED HIM, Alex was relieved the strong soap smell had dissipated. Either that or he’d simply got used to it.

  Stephen was, as Laurent had asserted months ago, a charismatic and handsome man. Upon receiving Alex’s confirmation the enemy was amassing not far from Caen, he immediately ordered soldiers to be readied to accompany the Montbryce forces. “We are indebted to you, Comte Alexandre, for learning of this treachery. Your family has a long history of loyalty to the monarch who wears the crown of the English. I am glad to have you as a supporter.”

  Alex bowed and the King talked on, but now that the problem of an army had been resolved, all he could think of was Gallien’s determination to find the oubliette where his father had been locked away. He wondered if his brothers standing behind him had already visited it.

  He had to avoid going there at all costs. Or was his cousin right? If he saw the wretched place for himself—

  “What say you, Alexandre?”

  “Er—oui, a fine plan,” he improvised.

  Stephen eyed him. “You seem preoccupied. Of course, this castle holds dark memories for you and your family.”

  Stephen knew, and understood.

  “It does, Majesté,” he admitted, “but my worry now is for the Scottish hostages. I’m afraid M
aud will kill them when their true identity is uncovered.”

  Stephen rubbed his finger across his top lip. “Gallien has informed me of King David’s trickery, but what are these hostages to you? Scotland’s ruler is our enemy.”

  Alex swallowed hard. “Elayne and her children are not your enemies, Sire. She is my wife, and I guarantee her loyalty to you and your Crown.”

  He wished he could turn round to express his regret to his family, surprised not to hear gasps of outrage from behind him.

  “Then we must do all we can to rescue these loyal subjects from Maud’s clutches, and send Geoffrey packing at the same time. We’ll ride at dawn.”

  “You intend to accompany us, Sire?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  ~~~

  ALEX TURNED TO FACE HIS BROTHERS and cousin as they left the interview with the King. Instead of the censure he expected, three broad grins flashed as they embraced him.

  “I suspected,” Romain admitted, “and I’m happy for you.”

  “I could tell how you felt about her every time I mentioned my possible interest,” Laurent added, poking him in the ribs with his elbow.

  Gallien slapped him on the back. “I’ve yet to meet this woman you’ve married, but from what your brothers have told me—”

  Alex gripped the hilt of his sword. “But we committed adultery. Her husband is dead now, but he wasn’t when we—”

  Gallien put his hands on Alex’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Did she know he was still alive?”

  Alex recalled with intense regret that his first thought on learning of Dugald’s resurrection was that Elayne had lied. “Non, she believed him dead.”

  “Did he ever have any intention of returning to his family in Scotland, or did he prefer to be dead to them?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Fine,” Gallien declared, his jaw clenched. “Now we’ve settled that, let’s go find this cursed oubliette.”

  The broad smiles disappeared from Romain and Laurent’s faces.

  They dread this as much as I.

  He could refuse, walk out of the castle into the bright warmth of the sun instead of descending to the depths of hell.

  He was Robert de Montbryce’s eldest son and heir, but he’d done nothing to merit either honor. He had to follow Gallien or he would never be able to look his siblings in the eye again.

  He turned to his brothers. “If we do this, life will never be the same. It will change all of us.” He stretched out his fisted hand. “Are we of one mind?”

  Romain and Laurent looked like two small boys, pale and uncertain, but first Romain, then Laurent lay their hands atop Alex’s fist.

  Gallien added his hand briefly, then beckoned to the shadows nearby. A burly guard emerged, holding an unlit torch. “This man will be our guide.”

  Alex studied the man. “You’ve been to this cell before?”

  The soldier clenched his jaw. “Oui, milord, many times.”

  “You’re a jailer?”

  The man nodded.

  “Is there a prisoner in this oubliette now?”

  To his relief, the man shook his bald head. “Not for many a year, milord.”

  “You seem glad of that.”

  “I am, milord,” the guard admitted. “’Tis not a place fit to keep a dog, never mind a man, no matter what he be guilty of. Better for him to be dead.”

  It would be every bit as horrific as he’d feared. But the die was cast. “Lead on,” he rasped.

  They walked in silence through the castle’s cavernous hallways, eventually descending a winding flight of ten stone steps, timeworn by the boots of a thousand jailers.

  They gripped the cold, damp stone wall to avoid slipping. Their bootsteps echoed into the dark hollow space somewhere beneath them. Breathing became more difficult in the fetid air.

  Their guide knelt to spark life into the torch he carried, raising the flame high once it caught. Faint rustling noises and grunts reached their ears.

  “Rats?” Alex asked the jailer.

  “Men,” he replied.

  They peered through the gloom. Ahead of them were cells, five on each side of a narrow passageway.

  “Prisoners in all these,” the guard explained, “but you can look through the grate if you’ve a mind.”

  Alex was relieved when Gallien took the lead because he couldn’t make his legs work. His cousin peered through the small grate in the solid iron door of one cell. “Five in here,” he said.

  Alex stole a glance at Laurent and Romain. In the eerie light of the torch, his brothers looked like white marble statues.

  “Come, brothers,” he said, “we must look.”

  Alex peered into a cell. It was similar to the ones at Montbryce, a small, cramped space for the three filthy men lying chained to the floor, one of whom made an obscene gesture at him. He wondered how long they’d been held there.

  “This way, mes seigneurs,” the jailer rasped, handing them bits of dirty rags. “You’ll need these. Though there’s been no prisoners down there for years, the stench clings. Can’t get rid of it.”

  The moldy smell of the rag alone was enough to bring bile up Alex’s throat, but he held it over his nose as the guard led them along narrow, dark, sloping corridors. After many long minutes of walking on slick stone with shoulders hunched as the ceiling got lower and lower, their escort declared, “Here’s the stairway.”

  Alex hadn’t thought they could descend any deeper into the earth but ahead he saw a narrow black opening barely wide enough for a man. Without a guide, he’d probably never have noticed it. They descended the steep slippery steps, the jailer holding the torch high to illuminate the narrow walls.

  Once at the bottom he lit two more flares fixed to the wall, then pointed. Alex narrowed his eyes, and peered into the darkness, gradually making out a small barred door with an open grate at the bottom. He gripped the bars with trembling hands, swung open the door and stepped inside.

  He entered the hell their father had endured for months. Romain and Laurent followed, though there was barely room for one man, let alone three.

  The stench turned his stomach. They were in a tiny, windowless cell. One man could lie down, two could not. There was a hole in the corner which he surmised went straight to the drains. This was the source of the foul odor. He could barely stand upright before his head touched the ceiling. Damp straw covered the stone floor.

  “The first thing oncle Robert did was retch into the drain hole.”

  Alex scowled at Gallien, still standing at the open door. It seemed wrong to speak. He didn’t want words. He wanted to be his father, to feel what he had felt, the despair, the fear, the anguish, the uncertainty, the blackness. It all swept over him, and for the first time he truly understood the strength of will it had taken to survive in this stinking tomb for months.

  Robert de Montbryce had not only survived, he’d prospered and become a great leader. He’d also fathered two more children, the brothers who clung to Alex now in the dark silence.

  Without a word they put their arms around each other’s shoulders and wept unashamedly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ALEX STEPPED OUT OF THE OUBLIETTE a changed man, sure in his heart that it was no coincidence this chance at redemption had come just as Elayne had filled his life with purpose.

  Epiphany indeed!

  He was certain too that his relationship with his brothers had been irrevocably altered as well. No matter the future, they would never forget the long minutes they had spent together reliving their father’s torment.

  He offered a hand to his cousin as he exited. “I thank you, Gallien, for bringing us here.”

  Gallien accepted the handshake and drew Alex into his embrace. “I hoped it was the right thing to do. I’ve heard the story many times, but I’ve never seen it for myself either. Your father was an incredible man.”

  “And I am ready to hear the story now.”

  “Here?”

&nb
sp; Alex looked around. “If my father bore this for as long as he did, we can spend a little more time here. Tell me.”

  Gallien laid a hand on the barred door. “Oncle Caedmon smashed the lock with the hilt of his sword.”

  Alex closed his eyes, hearing the clang of metal on metal, sensing the desperation of his oncles Caedmon and Baudoin as they searched for Robert.

  “They could see a man lying on the straw, but they didn’t know it was Robert until they heard him whisper your mother’s name.”

  Dorianne, Dorianne.

  “A cat scurried by and was swallowed up by the blackness. My father’s fury intensified when he saw his brother had been recently flogged. They’d beaten him when they realized the castle was about to fall to King Henry.”

  Laurent sobbed quietly.

  Alex put his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “It was then my father asked about the cat—Espérance—and they misunderstood, not knowing about the creature and how it kept his hopes alive?”

  “Oui,” Gallien murmured. “They lifted oncle Robert onto my father’s shoulder. You can imagine how difficult it was for them to carry him up those steps. He cried out when they got him outdoors. The light blinded him. Papa tore a strip from the tattered prison shirt and tied it around his head.”

  Gallien paused, rubbing his forehead. “He asked right away about tante Dorianne. Caedmon told him he had a son.”

  A son who’d been born safely a mile away only thanks to the immense bravery of his mother. A son who’d grown up to be the man he was because of the care, pride and attention lavished on him by his father.

  Alex entered the oubliette again. “Merci, Papa,” he whispered hoarsely, “for everything.”

  ~~~

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Romain and Laurent, along with Gallien’s brother, Étienne, took charge of assembling the Montbryce and Ellesmere knights and soldiers while Alex and Gallien were closeted with the King in the Map Room, planning their strategy. All three men wore full armor.

  “I want to avoid a pitched battle,” Stephen reminded them after they’d settled on a course of action. “After all, Maud is my cousin, and I don’t want to make her a martyr in the eyes of her supporters.”