Chapter 18 #2
Mallory caught her chin and his voice hardened. “I ask again: where is the seal?”
“I do not know.” Isabella recoiled when his eyes flashed. “I entrusted it to my lord husband but where he placed it, I cannot say.”
“Montvieux then,” Mallory mused as he released her. Isabella wondered what he schemed. It was clear he had a plan of some kind and she doubted she would like it.
“Edmund, you must join us at the board,” Mallory said then with unexpected joviality. “It seems most fitting to celebrate this day, after all.”
Faydide looked between the two men in obvious confusion. “Fitting?” she demanded. “Because the keep will be attacked at any moment, so we must dine as if naught were amiss?” Her voice rose with the words, prompting Mallory to chuckle.
“You have so little faith, sister mine,” he said. “We have made preparations all the night long to vanquish that army. As soon as they move closer, their fates will be sealed.”
Isabella glanced out the windows, taking closer note of the activities in the bailey. Some substance was being heated in large cauldrons, and even now a foul smoke rose into the air.
“And so we should dine, as if all is well?” Faydide said, acid in her tone.
“Of course. I have ordered a repast worthy of kings for this day of days, the better to see us fortified.” Mallory was curiously confident, a detail that troubled Isabella deeply.
“I accept your generous invitation, my lord Mallory.” Edmund simpered as he eased closer, looking as untrustworthy as only he could. “I could sit by my lady Isabella,” he suggested slyly. “That we might share a trencher.”
There was a gleam in his eyes that Isabella did not trust in the least. If the arrangements were thus, she would not eat at all.
Edmund chuckled. “I see the lady prefers your attentions, Mallory. I will sit with your sister, then, and perhaps hope to savor her charms in the near future. She has need of a new husband, does she not?”
Mallory chuckled at this prospect but the lady in question could not hide her revulsion.
“You?” Faydide said with scorn. “Why should I welcome you? A mere clerk, perhaps one in my husband’s confidence, but a man well beneath my station. I am the daughter of the Duke of Sancerre, after all.”
“But not a young woman,” Edmund said softly and Faydide’s expression hardened. “Perhaps you are right and I should offer my attentions to Marguerite de Haniers, as young and alluring a maiden as might be found.”
“You aspire beyond your place!” Faydide said with scorn.
“I might claim her hand first, Edmund,” Mallory jested and they laughed together.
There was some detail here that Isabella did not know, some fact that would explain their manner completely.
“You have no right to wed, Mallory, for you possess neither holding nor fortune,” Faydide said with disdain.
He lifted the hand with the signet ring. “Are you certain, sister mine?”
Faydide frowned. “But you cannot claim my husband’s legacy so readily as that, Mallory. You are not of the blood of Marnis. Isabella, for all her shortcomings, has that advantage at least, and indeed, she is the last surviving member of that family. You should wed her, if Marnis is your goal.”
“And yet there is the complication of the husband she will not foreswear,” Mallory said, tut-tutting beneath his breath.
“Fear not, Faydide, all will be resolved before the sun sets again, and resolved in our favor. Come! Let us eat!” He offered his hand to his sister, who glanced between the two men with a suspicion Isabella shared, then accepted her brother’s arm.
Isabella declined Edmund’s assistance and followed him down the stairs, not wanting to be pushed from behind. It seemed she had not paid sufficient attention to this clerk and his secrets, though now she very much wished to know more.
It was after dawn when Amaury hauled himself over the sill of Marnis’ solar. It had not been easy to find purchase on the roof once he was on the palisade, and he had cast his hook many times before succeeding. The angle was too tight and he had to hide often from sentries and guards.
This was the same window he had used to depart from Marnis mere days before, but the sight that greeted him was unfamiliar.
A man’s garments were cast across the floor.
The trunks had been opened and their contents cast in corners.
Some garments were torn and the mattress of the great bed had been shredded.
He noted that a place on the wall was evidently a hidden cupboard, for its doors were open now.
The only thing within it was a smashed trunk of smaller size, one graced with the fleur-de-lis of Montvieux.
Once it had held his father’s coins, but now it was empty.
Evidently, that discovery had vexed someone.
He was moving it back into place, as if he had never touched it, when he saw the wooden box.
It was shallow and carved from young wood, unornamented, the kind of container that one might use for trinkets or sweets.
Amaury took it and opened it, catching his breath when he saw the interior.
The box was divided in two, each side lined with a thin piece of cloth.
One side was empty, while the other held several rows of irregularly shaped confections.
He sniffed and smelled the sweetness of honey, along with another deeper scent, then set the box aside with a shiver.
Someone had retrieved this token from Montvieux, after his father had eaten all of his favored treats and one of the poisoned ones. That it was here, in the treasury of Gaultier de Marnis, told Amaury that Isabella’s father must have at least known of the crime.
Again, he returned the box to its place, leaving no sign that he had touched it.
There was no sign of Isabella in the space any longer, nor of her possessions.
She must have been placed in another chamber, but which one?
When Amaury heard voices, he feared discovery.
There was no escape save by the door and the window he had just used – and he had little desire to abandon his lady in this place.
A moment later, Amaury realized that people conferred outside the chamber door.
He eased closer and listened at the base of the door.
Mallory’s voice he recognized, as well as the strident tones of Lady Faydide.
She spoke of someone’s lower status, then he heard another familiar voice.
He should not have been surprised to hear Edmund, but the one voice he yearned to hear was absent.
Was Isabella with them, or had she been dispatched to some foul dungeon? Edmund mentioned Isabella but still there was no sound of her voice. Amaury dared not even think that she might not draw breath any longer.
He waited until the sound of footfalls moved away, then dared to peek around the great door.
The corridor was empty, though he could see the count’s army through the windows opposite.
They were preparing to march upon Marnis.
He saw the boiling oil being prepared in the bailey and knew it would be poured down upon the advancing forces.
Already, there were buckets of it being carried up ladders to the parapet.
And the count’s forces would use burning arrows, as well as other flaming trajectories. Amaury considered the aging wooden walls of Marnis and could anticipate how the battle would end. There was not much time to ensure Isabella’s safety.
He checked the other two chambers flanking the solar, but they, too, were empty. The sound of his army’s drums echoed through the keep, reminding him that he must find his lady and soon.
The stairs, wide and lacking either corner or shadow, posed a risk of discovery but it was one Amaury must take.
The hall seemed large and cold, quiet with the exception of the drums. Were they louder? Isabella could only imagine that hostilities would begin now that it was daylight, but Mallory seemed unconcerned. She sat at his left, Faydide on his right, and Edmund beside Faydide.
The servants from the kitchens were harried and silent, as if resenting the order to serve such a meal in such a moment.
There also seemed to be fewer of them. There were no villagers or even other servants dining in the hall, save they four.
Had people fled the keep or were they ordered to work on the defenses?
There was a moment of quiet as the soup was brought to the board.
Isabella watched as the broth was ladled into individual bowls at the table and could not see how the contents of any of them could be different from the others.
She waited until all three had sipped of their soup, complaining that hers was too hot when Faydide gave her a hard look.
“Of course, Mallory has always had ambitions at Marnis,” Edmund said finally, as if resuming a conversation that had been interrupted. “I scarce think you should be surprised by that, Lady Faydide.”
“My brother has known the favor of my lord husband, as have you, Edmund.”
“So much spoken favor and yet so little tangible reward,” Edmund mused. “Like father, like son, I would say. Would you not agree, Mallory?”
His words were lightly spoken but Mallory’s brow darkened. “I cannot think what you mean. Both Gaultier and Denis honored me with their trust.”
“But so little more than trust.”
“I was content,” Mallory protested, though Isabella thought the claim unlikely.
“Yet how were they rewarded?” Edmund mused, his attention fixed upon his bowl of soup. “One with poison in his sauce and the other with a blade in his gut.”
“I did not poison Gaultier!” Mallory said.
“True. It might well have been your sister, so vexed was she with her husband.”
“He meant to put me aside!” Faydide was indignant.
“And both of you in the kitchens when the sauce was prepared. Which of you were responsible?”
“Not I,” Faydide said, her eyes bright.
“Nor I,” her brother agreed and they nodded at each other with such surety that Isabella suspected each knew more than they confessed.