Chapter Twenty-One #3
“Collect Hage and take him to the Lord Sheriff’s home,” he instructed his soldiers. Then, he turned to Salisbury, who had been watching the skirmish with great apprehension. “You follow Dorset and make sure he does not kill that woman. If you do not, I will.”
Salisbury put a hand to his head, a gesture of utter sorrow. “Gorsedd, you know I cannot,” he said. “You cannot. She is his wife!”
“He will murder her!”
Those shouted, desperate words seemed to ring about in William’s head, enough to the point where he turned to look at the last spot where he had seen Victor and Annavieve.
He remembered the very last thing he saw between the pair, the strike Victor had committed against her.
He will murder her! Gorsedd’s words rang in his brain.
William was not a weak or indecisive man; he knew right from wrong.
But he could not interfere in the duke’s marriage. He would not.
“Do what I tell you,” he said to Gorsedd, turning away and heading back in the direction of the meeting hall. “Take Hage to the Lord Sheriff’s abode before the man awakens. I will go and find the sheriff.”
With that, he made his way down the dark avenue, leaving Gorsedd standing there, anguished over the turn of events.
He simply couldn’t believe William wasn’t going to help the duchess but, in reflection, he supposed that he did understand the man’s position.
One did not interfere in another man’s marriage, and one in particular did not interfere in Dorset’s affairs.
That was an unspoken rule regarding a man who had been known to make those who spoke unfavorably of him disappear.
Gorsedd had a duty to do, as difficult as it was, so he helped his men collect Kevin and carry his massive body over to the next street where the Lord Sheriff’s place of business was located.
There was evidently no real vault but there were chains and shackles against a wall in the rear yard, next to a small stable, so when the Lord Sheriff arrived, they were able to chain a semi-conscious Kevin to the great stone wall, out in the night, out in the elements.
It was a shameful state for the great Scorpion, a man in a long line of great knights.
Even when the Salisbury soldiers left to return to William and the sheriff returned to his feast, Gorsedd remained.
He stayed as long as he could listening to Kevin beg him to go and save Annavieve, but when the guilt became too great because he would not help the duchess, he left Kevin alone.
He simply couldn’t look at the man anymore or hear his anguished pleas. They cut him to the bone.
Meanwhile, when Adonis finally regained consciousness, alone in the livery yard, he staggered back into the meeting hall in search of Thomas only to be told that de Wolfe and de Evereux had inflicted mortal wounds upon each other in their battle and both had been taken to the barber-surgeon for tending, the same barber-surgeon where Magda’s body still lay in the back room.
Unable to locate Victor or William or Gorsedd, Adonis went on to the barber-surgeon to sit with Thomas as the man hovered between life and death with a dagger wound that had gone deep into his chest.
De Evereux passed away shortly after Adonis arrived, having bled to death from a gash to his neck that Thomas had inflicted.
The wicked, dark French knight went out without fanfare or sympathy from anyone around him.
He died, as he had lived, alone and unloved, a fitting ending for a man who had never given, or known, kindness.
He died, a victim of Thomas de Wolfe’s blade, as Adonis sat beside Thomas, several feet away, and wept.
The devastation Adonis felt, for Kevin and for Thomas and for Annavieve, was unfathomable.
*
Pleading illness, Mimsy hadn’t attended the feast at the meeting hall that night.
Deeply upset over what had happened with Annavieve earlier in the day, she had been wandering the streets of Longcross, pondering both her past and her present.
Her thoughts kept moving to Rhodri ap Gruffydd, the man she had loved so deeply those years ago.
She had dreamed of a life with him and with their children, but it was not to be.
Their daughters, however, had at least found some happiness as fine women in English houses.
Annavieve was even a duchess. She felt very poorly that her conversation with Annavieve had gone so badly, but she somewhat understood the woman’s position.
She hoped that, with time, Annavieve might be able to forgive her for choosing Vietta over her.
Even now, Vietta was inside the great meeting hall, undoubtedly enjoying attention from fine young knights, and Annavieve would be there with her husband.
Mimsy finally decided that she would go to the meeting hall so she could at least see her two daughters in the same room.
It would probably be the very last time she ever witnessed such a thing and she tried not to feel sad over it.
You did what you had to do, she told herself firmly.
The time for guilt is long past. With thoughts of Annavieve and Vietta on her mind, Mimsy turned a corner and was confronted with a big man with gray hair dragging Annavieve down the darkened road. She even saw him hit her.
Shocked, Mimsy fell back into the shadows to watch the man as he continue to drag Annavieve down the avenue, heading in the direction of a few taverns, including the Cock and Bull where Mimsy had visited Annavieve earlier.
Mimsy soon came out of the shadows, watching the struggle as it moved down the road, her heart in her throat.
She was utterly horrified at what she was seeing, realizing that the big man was the Duke of Dorset, Annavieve’s husband.
She recalled that she’d seen the man in the lists earlier in the day.
As Mimsy continued to watch, the duke slapped Annavieve again and the woman stumbled, only to be yanked to her feet as the duke continued his march down the road.
It was a vicious hit. Seized with panic, and with the motherly instinct that she had always had towards her children, she started to follow with the intention of stopping the duke from slapping her daughter.
She didn’t even stop to think that he could do with her as he pleased.
All Mimsy could see was that the man was striking Annavieve and there was no one around to help her.
Although she did not know the reasons behind the duke’s behavior, surely they were not justified.
It was a cruel and beastly man who would hit a woman.
Now she was infuriated as well as panicked.
She scurried after the pair as they headed down the avenue, following them far enough to see that he was evidently taking Annavieve to the Cock and Bull.
She paused. What could she do against the duke?
He was a strong man. He had men all about him to defend and protect him.
What could she possibly do alone? She needed help.
She needed someone who cared for Annavieve, someone who was young and strong and willful.
She needed the woman who owed Annavieve something.
Vietta had been the chosen one all her life.
She had lived a golden life beneath the roof of Lioncross Abbey whilst Annavieve had essentially been caged at a convent deep in the Norfolk wilderness.
Perhaps it was time that Vietta knew who, exactly, she was.
She knew Vietta well enough to know that the woman would put Annavieve’s life over any shock or bewilderment she might feel at the truth of her humble origins.
Vietta was made of very strong things, that girl.
You are the daughter of a Welsh prince and the last of the Marshals….
Aye, Vietta would understand. She had to understand, because Alys, the mother, now needed her, more than she had ever needed her in her life. Annavieve needed her. The time had come for total and utter truth because, as far as Alys could see it, a life was at stake.
Her daughter’s life was at stake.
There was no time to waste.
Mimsy found Vietta in the smoky, loud meeting hall, chatting with two eligible suitors under the watchful eye of Lady Agnes.
When Mimsy appeared, unexpectedly, Lady Agnes seemed to be relieved because she wanted to enjoy herself and watching her daughter all night was quite a task.
Vietta was very sociable and lovely, and had more than her share of male attention.
Now, with Mimsy’s arrival, Lady Agnes could turn the responsibility of Vietta over to the old nurse.
Mimsy, of course, was happy to accept the responsibility.
As Lady Agnes watched, Mimsy went over to Vietta where she stood near the edge of the table in animated conversation, and promptly hustled the young woman away from her admirers.
Lady Agnes grinned as she thought of Vietta being scolded by the prim and proper Mimsy.
She collected her cup and turned her attention to her husband.
Little did she know that a scolding was the last thing Mimsy intended to do.
A family secret was about to be spilled.
Out in the avenue in front of the meeting house, Mimsy grabbed Vietta by the wrist and pulled her across the street, into the shadows and away from the people who were milling out in front of the hall, laughing and drinking in the fresh air.
Irritated, Vietta yanked her hand away from the old woman.
“Mimsy!” she said unhappily. “What in the world is the matter with you? I thought you were ill!”
Mimsy held up a quieting finger. “Hush, now,” she said, her voice low and her manner edgy. “I do not have time for your foolishness, Vietta. Something very serious has occurred and the time has come for total truth between us.”
Vietta frowned. “Total truth?” she repeated. “What on earth are you talking about? Mimsy, whatever is the matter with you?”