Chapter 12
Amaury’s skepticism had redoubled by morning.
He stood in the shadows of the small copse outside the gates of Marnis with Roland, Philip and Edmund.
They had been met on the side of the woods furthest from the keep by a man with a wagon.
The wagon was loaded with casks of wine, intended, as the man insisted, for the feast to be held at Chateau Marnis that day.
Roland, to Amaury’s relief, appeared to know the man though neither of them said as much aloud.
It was no more than a glance from his brother, one made so Edmund could not witness it, that convinced Amaury.
He did not understand it, but it meant this man was trustworthy.
Edmund, on the other hand, was surely not.
“All you have to do, my lord, is hide amidst the casks,” Edmund insisted.
“Hide within a cask would be my counsel,” said the gruff driver. “They are suspicious at the gates of Marnis.”
Amaury’s doubts grew to epic proportions.
“We cannot keep our swords thus,” Roland complained, though that was not the issue for Amaury.
He did not mind disguising himself or concealing his armor.
He did not mind setting aside his tabard with the emblem of Montvieux.
He could – and had – survived without his sword, and no man would deprive him of the dagger upon his belt, never mind the one in his boot.
But he disliked intensely the notion of leaving Ténébreux behind, and even more, the prospect of abandoning Philip within the territories of Marnis.
Worse, he distrusted Edmund. It was one matter to agree to let the man live within his company, when Amaury could control Edmund’s ability to travel, but this, this required him to put himself into that man’s power for at least this journey.
Every fiber of his being protested.
But Amaury had to see Isabella. He had to aid Isabella, if indeed she wished for his assistance. She was his wife and her defense was his responsibility. This very day she would be sent to a convent, or worse. As she was within the walls of Marnis, that meant he had to enter that place himself.
“And you will have to abandon your hauberk,” Edmund continued, earning a sharp glance from Amaury.
“It reveals your knightly status, sir, and any who notice that you are a knight will naturally wish to know which knight you are.” He shook his head sadly.
“There is little affection for the family of Montvieux within the walls of Marnis.”
The driver cleared his throat and scowled. Doubtless, time was pressing.
Amaury felt a portent of doom, one that grew stronger by the moment, one that compelled him to conclude that his lady might not leave her family abode alive.
He seldom experienced such convictions, but when he did, he heeded them.
Her father might have changed his mind again about his daughter’s future.
Amaury had to enter the keep and soon.
He had to accept Edmund’s scheme. He beckoned to Philip and tugged his tabard over his head, turning his back to the boy to have his hauberk unlaced.
Edmund beamed with a satisfaction that did little to allay Amaury’s doubts.
“You may join me or return to Montvieux,” he said to Roland, who looked astonished. “I must aid my lady.”
“Then I will go with you,” his brother said with welcome conviction.
“And Philip, you will take the horses back to Montvieux.” He entrusted his sword to Philip.
“Where are the casks?” he asked the driver, striding toward the cart while Roland similarly divested himself.
He did not miss Edmund’s glee and knew for certain that there was peril for himself and his brother this day.
But he would risk all for Isabella.
Philip would defend himself and the horses. Amaury relied upon it, for he had trained his squire well.
But he had to protect Philip. He dared not leave the boy alone with Edmund.
“I would see you secured first, Edmund,” he said with false cheer, noting the older man’s surprise. He gestured to the casks, only two of which were open. They were in the middle of the cart, between rows of casks that must be filled with wine.
“I, my lord? But I did not intend to accompany you.”
The driver, Amaury noted, was watchful.
“But you must, Edmund,” he said heartily.
“How else can we be assured that we will gain admission to Marnis? Upon who else would I rely to navigate that keep with surety? Nay, nay, we must have your assistance in this matter, which you have so generously offered.” Amaury gestured to one of the empty casks.
“I insist, or the entire expedition must be abandoned.”
Edmund hesitated only a moment, then climbed into a cask. Amaury did not miss the respect that touched the driver’s expression before he became impassive again.
“By the way, Edmund, who did kill Denis?” Amaury asked.
The older man was clearly startled and stammered for a moment before he could speak. “I do not know, sir.”
“Come, Edmund, you always like to know the secrets of the hall. I would wager that you either know who killed Denis or did the deed yourself.”
“Me, sir? I could not, I would not, I did not…”
Amaury had little doubt of that. The blow that had ended Denis’ days had been a powerful one, and he could not believe that Edmund could have struck such a blow.
“You must believe me, my lord!” Edmund entreated, clutching the sides of the cask.
He protected someone else.
By his discomfiture, Amaury guessed that he feared the villain. “I believe you know who killed Denis, just as I believe you know who sent the candied elecampane to my father from Beaune.”
Edmund paled. “You are not supposed to know of that.”
“Neither are you.”
“But, but…”
Before Amaury could move, Roland stepped forward and seized Edmund, forcing him down into the cask. He easily overpowered the older man, whose protests became more shrill by the moment. “Perhaps you will have a better answer once we are within the walls of Marnis,” Roland said.
“But I cannot tell you, sir. I dare not do as much.”
“You see?” Roland cast Amaury a wicked smile. “Even the most practiced liar can learn to tell the truth with a little encouragement.”
“Sir, you cannot do this…”
Edmund’s protests were muffled as Roland secured the lid of the cask, then his voice rose in a shriek.
Roland leaned down and murmured with quiet heat.
“I would recommend silence on your part, Edmund.” To Amaury’s surprise, his brother jabbed the blade of his dagger between the wooden bands of the cask.
Edmund squeaked. “I will find a longer blade by the time we are within Marnis’ walls, of that you can be assured. ”
“But you cannot. You should not. I protest…”
Roland removed the blade and poked it into the cask on the other side. Again, Edmund squeaked but this time, he fell silent afterward.
“Consider your choices, Edmund. I will ask you only once more.” Roland stepped away, nodding to the driver.
“Should I be concerned that you so readily become the brigand?” Amaury asked his brother softly, but Roland’s grin flashed.
“I must leave the honor, duty and noble purpose to you,” he teased.
“You and Sebastian were the brigands in the forest,” Amaury said, wanting his brother’s confession.
“We were brigands in the forest, but there were others, others who pretended their deeds were ours.” Roland became grim.
“Others who were more fierce and foul than we ever could be. We never saw them, Amaury, only the results of their deeds.” He must have seen something in Amaury’s expression, for his voice dropped low.
“We were nuisances, Amaury, not villains. We stole a few trinkets and we pricked the pride of those due for a measure of humiliation. We never did anyone serious injury and we never killed another.” He gestured to the driver. “This man can vouch for that.”
The driver nodded solemnly. “There were others, sir, veritable fiends they were. Not abroad often but always with dire purpose.”
“Do you know who they were?”
“No man with his wits about him would admit it if he did.” He positioned the cask containing Edmund, then murmured for Amaury’s ears alone. “I will release that worm only upon your word, sir.”
Amaury nodded his appreciation. He could not deny that there were those men whose location he preferred to know.
He said a silent prayer as he climbed into the cask. He did not believe in divine intervention, but in a man ensuring his own success. All the same, a little favor from above on this day’s errand would not be remiss.
Isabella was surprised by the number of people who arrived to pay their respects to Denis.
She might have expected a smaller gathering, given her brother’s skill for turning others against him and her father’s lack of comparative influence.
Perhaps it was curiosity that brought so many to the gates of Marnis.
She did not doubt that word of her father’s plans had travelled quickly.
Perhaps it was the prospect of a fine meal at the Lord de Marnis’ expense.
She had not slept well, given that she possessed no ability to change her own situation.
She was beneath her father’s thumb, once again, and subject to his will – as ever she had been, but now, after a short interval with Amaury, her powerlessness rankled.
A convent was the last place she wished to be, a life of solitude and silence the least of her ambitions, and the prospect of a future yoked to Faydide only diminished the appeal of both.
The woman had wailed half the night and tossed for the other half.
Even if Isabella had been inclined to sleep, having her step-mother share her chamber had ensured that to be impossible.