Chapter Seventeen
Babylon Castle
Prior to her short stay when Kenton had her thrown in, Nicola couldn’t remember the last time she was in Babylon’s vault.
It had been years ago and even so, she couldn’t remember why she had come.
She thought it might have been because Gaylord had a pair of thieves in his custody, awaiting justice, but she honestly couldn’t recall.
Looking around at the slick, stone walls, cold and some with a growth of mold, she couldn’t see why anyone would come down here voluntarily. It was purely hellish.
The steps leading down to the only level of the vault, which was just below the gatehouse, were narrow and slippery.
Nicola found herself gripping the walls as she followed St. John down the steps, illuminated by the torch he held.
Dipped in animal fat, it gave off thick black smoke that caught her in the face more than once.
Eyes watering, she was fairly amazed that she hadn’t slipped on her way down the steps because she could hardly see a thing.
The floor of the vault, dug out those years ago, sloped to one side so it gave one a sense of vertigo when walking on it.
When Nicola hit bottom, she listed heavily to the right and almost crashed into the wall because of the floor’s angle.
Putting her hand out to steady herself against the stone, she struggled to adjust her eyes to the dim light as St. John went to the only cell in the vault and unhinged the big, iron lock.
Blinking her eyes, trying to clear them, Nicola could see a figure lying on the floor of the cell and she made her way over to the cell door just as St. John entered, bending over the supine figure.
“You, there,” St. John said, sticking out a foot to roust the body. “Wake up. Someone wishes to see you.”
A head swiftly lifted and Nicola immediately recognized Conor, even though she shouldn’t have – his face was swollen and beaten, and one eye was so swollen that it was shut.
He didn’t look anything like the man she remembered.
His mouth was bloodied and as he struggled to sit up, she could see that his arms and hands were badly damaged.
Two of his fingers were clearly broken. Conor couldn’t quite manage to sit up completely so he leaned back against the wall behind him, struggling to look up at St. John.
It was fairly obvious how badly the man was injured and Nicola was horrified at the sight.
I did this, she thought, sickened. Dear God… I did this!
The more she looked at the knight, the more ill she became.
After her brief conversation with St. John up in the gatehouse, Nicola’s mind had been whirling with the information she’d been given – Kenton was presumed defeated at Manchester and all of his men left behind at Babylon were now prisoners of Edwardian supporters who had been less than kind in dealing with the conquered.
Nicola had seen the prisoners corralled and beaten, men who had watched her walk by them, men who might be hoping she might help them.
Even though her husband had been loyal to Edward, all of Kenton’s men knew that Lady Thorne and Kenton le Bec had been friendly towards one another.
Of course, they couldn’t be certain that her friendliness hadn’t been out of a necessity to stay alive, but at this point, they had no hope left.
Because of her treachery, Nicola had taken it away from them.
Now she was looking at Conor as the man lay there, beaten and bloodied.
Quickly, she wracked her mind with a way to help him and she could only come up with one thing.
It was a lie, and a bold one, but if she didn’t do it now, immediately, there would never be another chance.
What she had in mind had to look like a gut reaction, an instantaneous response to the man in the cell.
At the moment, she was willing to do anything to right her betrayal, to make restitution for sending that missive to Conisbrough.
She was willing to lie until she could lie no more.
She had to do something.
“God’s Bones!” she exclaimed loudly. “Is this the man you thought to be a le Bec knight?”
St. John looked at her, puzzled by her statement. “Indeed, my lady,” he said hesitantly, unsure of her reaction. “He was upon the walls and he fought against us. I would assume he was the enemy.”
Nicola rushed to Conor’s side, falling to her knees beside him.
He was looking at her with some dismay and confusion as she reached out, gingerly touching his swollen eye.
“This is not the le Bec knight I asked of,” she told him, thinking that Conor’s eye socket must be broken from the amount of swelling on his face.
“I was asking over a big, hairy man with dark hair. I did not mean this man. He is one of my husband’s men. ”
Much to Conor’s credit, he didn’t react with the surprise he felt. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of Lady Thorne’s mouth and he was, frankly, astonished. She continued to poke and prod around his face as, behind her, St. John put his hands on his hips and cocked his head in puzzlement.
“A Thorne knight, my lady?” St. John asked. “Who is it? I do not know him.”
Nicola sighed heavily. “Do you know every knight in my husband’s service?” she asked, rather testily. “Do you know every knight in Henry’s service? Of course you do not. This man is my husband’s cousin from Scotland.”
St. John scowled. Now, great doubt was joining his confusion. “But this man tried to do battle against us,” he pointed out. “He was armed on the battlements and came down to the gatehouse with a sword in hand.”
Nicola turned to him, frowning. “There is fighting all around him and he is not supposed to arm himself?” she asked, incredulous. “Did you stop to think that mayhap he was coming to fight with you?”
The doubt and confusion cooled. Now, St. John was simply stumped. “My lady,” he said, trying to make sense out of what she was telling him. “When you opened the postern gate for us, you made no mention of any knights belonging to your husband. Why did you not tell me so I knew what to expect?”
Nicola hadn’t expected St. John to blurt the details of her betrayal.
Now her secret was out and she turned to look at Conor, who was gazing back at her with the same unwavering expression.
But deep in those blue eyes, she could see the rage, the disgust. Now he knows, Nicola thought with a sinking heart.
He knows of my sin. Then he must also know I am trying to right it.
“That is because you ran past me so quickly I did not have time,” she hissed at St. John, rising to her feet.
She pointed at Conor. “Bring that man up to the keep. You have beaten him so soundly I am not entirely sure he will ever be the same, but I will try to help him nonetheless. Bring him up to me, I say. And then next time, ask a man his loyalties before you nearly beat him to death!”
St. John was feeling quite berated and, truth be told, quite foolish.
He looked at Conor, who was gazing at Lady Thorne with his one good eye.
There was no discernable reaction in the man’s face.
Brome thought it all rather odd that the red-headed knight wasn’t speaking to the lady or at least showing some measure of relief at her appearance. He focused on the man.
“Why did you not tell me any of this?” he asked Conor. “You have not said a word since we captured you. Why not?”
Nicola interrupted before Conor could speak. “Get out,” she told St. John. “Get out immediately. I would speak with him alone.”
St. John thought there was something very strange going on but out of respect to Lady Thorne, who had truly been through a great ordeal with Kenton le Bec as her captor, he simply turned and obeyed her wishes.
His footsteps were slow and heavy up the slippery stairs, as if he was conveying his displeasure and suspicion at having been sent away.
Nicola remained silent until he was gone and even then, even when his footfalls were gone, she remained quiet for a moment.
Knowing that Conor knew it was she who betrayed Kenton’s men, Nicola knew her only hope to salvage the situation was to be the aggressor in the conversation and come out swinging.
Conor had to understand her reasons and then she would ask him a few questions of her own.
Now, truths would be told. She wanted answers.
“It was I who sent a message to Conisbrough and told them that Kenton had left for Manchester,” she said, whirling on Conor.
“Do you know why I did it? Because I heard Kenton tell his men that he was only using me for information. He was trying to use a sweet and honeyed tactic against me and I tell you now that I will not be made a fool of. So I sent word to Conisbrough and told them Kenton had left Babylon for Manchester. But you will tell me now, Sir Conor, and tell me truthfully – did Kenton ever tell you that he was using me for information? Did he tell you that he had tried to force me into submission once and it did not work? Did he tell you that his tactic was now charm and affection?”
Conor stared up at her with his one good eye. His features were starting to register some kind of emotion, but mostly, they seemed to be registering confusion.
“My lady,” he said, his voice hoarse from having been kicked in the neck. “Kenton has never said anything about you to me, in any fashion. If he was attempting to use you, then I am unaware.”
Nicola crossed her arms, her brow furrowed, feeling hurt and furious. Somehow, speaking of Kenton and his actions was bringing about all manner of confusion and sorrow all over again.
“You will not cover for him,” she told him, lowering her voice. “He was in my husband’s solar a few days before leaving for battle at Manchester, speaking to his men on how he was using me for information. Do you deny you were in that room and heard that conversation?”