Chapter 18 #3
Edmund’s gaze was steely. “And yet, Mallory, you cannot deny that you ensured Denis’ demise.”
“Mallory!” Faydide said. “Cast this fiend from the hall if he means to slander you! He does not even call you by your proper title.”
“He is no more noble than I,” Edmund replied. “Tell her, Mallory,” he crooned. “Tell her the truth of your deed.”
“I have naught to confess,” Mallory blustered, but something in his manner made both women watch him keenly. “I served my young master well.”
“Aye, you served him, that is certain,” Edmund said.
“You forget, Mallory, that I followed Lord Denis on his quest that morning. He did not ride out to seek his horse, Lady Faydide. He could not have done as much, for he knew his destrier had been claimed by the brothers from Montvieux. Clearly, the beast would be found there, and truly it was. I knew his excuse for what it was and wondered at the truth.”
“What truth?” Faydide demanded.
“Lord Denis ventured into the forest for an assignation. He met with one who promised to aid his ambitions and see him in possession of Marnis with greater haste than might have been otherwise.”
“You cannot know such a detail.”
“I do know it, for my lord Gaultier bade me watch over his son. He saw ambition stir within the boy and dared not trust the boy fully. The match with Marguerite de Haniers was not sufficient for Lord Denis. Nay, he would have his entire legacy upon his wedding day, and there was one who promised it to Lord Denis when his own father refused.”
“You must speak of yourself,” Mallory protested.
“Not I. My loyalty was to Lord Gaultier, to the blood of Marnis.”
Isabella blinked at the argument that sounded so much like one of her father’s own.
“But Denis was Gaultier’s son,” Faydide protested. “He was heir to Marnis.”
“And that was why he had to die,” Edmund said softly. “How else could your brother claim the holding he coveted above all others? There could be no other contender with the blood of Marnis, not if Mallory was to seize the prize.” He smiled then, eyes gleaming as he watched the pair.
Faydide blinked. “You killed Denis?” she demanded of Mallory.
He might have denied it, but his manner revealed his guilt.
“He will tell you that the boy had to die, that he would destroy all of merit at Marnis in his selfishness,” Edmund whispered. “Mallory will tell you that he did the deed for you, but he will lie in that, my lady Faydide.”
“You killed Denis?” Faydide demanded of Mallory, rising to her feet. “You killed my son, my only son, my one son?” She was shaking in her fury. “You slaughtered him like a peasant and left him to die alone?”
“He was already dead,” Mallory muttered.
“Nay, he had no intention of leaving him alive,” Edmund said softly. “Such a fierce blow. No man could have survived it.” He shook his head. “And Lord Denis, he was too astonished to defend himself. He was fool enough to trust you, Mallory, and that cost him dearly.”
“Cease your prattle,” Mallory said, his face turning red as he glared at Edmund. “Do not tell these lies to my sister.”
“They are not lies, Mallory, and you know as much better than anyone.”
Mallory lunged for Edmund. In that moment, Faydide seized her bowl of soup and struck Mallory in the face with it. The wooden bowl cracked hard as did something else that Isabella could not see. The soup spilled to the floor and Mallory roared in pain.
He flung away his sister, revealing the blood on his face. His nose had to be broken.
Mallory had no opportunity to appeal to Faydide, though, for she had grabbed her eating knife with her other hand. “You killed my son,” she said with quiet fury.
Mallory opened his mouth to protest his cause, even as Faydide drove the blade of her knife into his throat.
It was a small blade but the blow was well-aimed.
Mallory choked and stumbled to his feet as blood spurted from the wound.
He lunged after Faydide but she kicked him hard, hooking her ankle around his so that he fell hard to the floor.
He struck his head and moaned, but Faydide fell upon him, plunging her knife into him over and over again.
It was only when Mallory was still and silent, his blood flowing like wine, that she stood up and backed away, her eyes wild.
“My son,” she whispered and spat upon him. She then choked back a sob.
Edmund was finishing his soup, untroubled by the situation. Isabella watched in horror as Faydide turned her gaze upon Edmund, anger emanating from her in waves.
“And you knew,” she muttered, raising the blade with obvious intent.
Edmund moved with surprising speed, spinning to his feet and striking the knife from her hand.
He struck her across the face so that she stumbled and fell, then kicked her hard in the abdomen.
His expression changed to a terrifying and familiar one when a bone cracked, a sight that made Isabella try to slip from the table and hide.
She did not know how it could be, but she had seen that look before, that satisfaction in the misery of another. Faydide moaned and curled into a ball, weeping as she whispered Denis’ name.
Edmund had not missed Isabella’s response. He turned his attention to her and smiled slowly. “Now you see the truth,” he said softly. He moved toward her with steady steps. “I wanted you to know before you died, but now there can be no reprieve.”
Isabella was aware that a servant came into the great hall then abruptly retreated. She wished she could do the same. She had to encourage Edmund to talk while she devised an escape. “But I do not understand. Father had no surviving kin.”
“He had two brothers who escaped his schemes: Gilles and Hugues, both outcasts from this abode and its luxuries, both forced to ensure their own welfare thanks to Gaultier’s affection for poison.
I learned a great deal from my older brother, enough that when I found Gilles, I could ensure that I remained the sole heir to Marnis.
” He chuckled softly. “He thought us brothers reunited, and that our cause was as one. Fool! I tested my knowledge upon him. I poured his wine and urged him to drink to our cause.” His eyes lit as his voice dropped low. “I watched him die.”
Isabella slid back a step but Edmund advanced upon her. Could she reach Faydide’s knife?
“I came back to the area then, disguised as a mere clerk. No one looks truly at those they deem to be beneath them.” Edmund sneered at this.
“And I sought a post at Montvieux, where I could watch Gaultier and monitor his schemes. For years, it worked well.” His expression turned bitter.
“But then he recognized me that night, the night of the celebration to which he invited himself, the fête to mark the young lord’s earning of his spurs.
He had no right to attend. He had no cause to surprise and unveil me!
He demanded that I spy for him then, that I pay him for his silence, that I do his bidding lest he reveal my truth to Lucien de Montvieux.
You might imagine that I grew to hate him even more than I had before. ”
Isabella retreated another step, watching as Edmund bent to retrieve the signet ring from Mallory’s hand. He placed it on his own, smiling down at it. “An excellent fit, do you not think?”
“And Denis?” she asked.
“An unworthy heir to Marnis. He was weak, thanks to his mother’s lineage.
” He cast Faydide a disparaging glance. “His ambition and impatience were readily used against him. Mallory was fool enough to believe that I aided his ambitions.” Edmund chuckled.
“Another fool who did not look beyond my supposed occupation. Only I would survive. That was always the plan.”
“And what of me?”
“You were more of a challenge than anticipated, but then, I knew little of you until recent days. A cripple. A plain girl. A maiden too old to wed.” He shook his head.
“But those of Montvieux are possessed of impractical and chivalrous notions. He will come for you, just as his father risked all for his lady wife when I suggested that Gaultier could gain a great ransom in capturing her.” Edmund’s smile was cold.
“I do not think I will ransom you, though, Lady Isabella. I am too determined to ensure that there are no other contenders for the sole prize I desire.”
There was a cry from the outside and a roar from the walls as the battle for Marnis began.
Edmund glanced toward the doors to the bailey and chuckled. “Your lord husband arrives, no doubt, but he will be too late to be of aid to you.”
“He will not come,” Isabella insisted. “I bade him not do as much.”
“He will come,” Edmund insisted. “He will come and he will die, and you will watch.” He smiled. “Then you will die and my triumph will be complete.”
“He will not come,” Isabella said again, wishing she could make it so.
“Nay, he will not for he is already here,” a familiar voice declared said with authority.
Edmund opened his mouth to shout for a guard, pointing his finger at the base of the stairs. Whatever call he might have made was never emitted. Isabella heard the whistle of some weapon through the air, and glanced back to find that valet had returned to the great hall.
But he was no valet of Marnis. It was Amaury, wearing that tabard once again.
And he had cast his dagger at Edmund. The weapon nicked Edmund’s ear, for that man moved in the last moment.
Edmund howled as if he had lost a limb even as the blade fell to the floor.
“Guards!” he roared, but no one answered his summons.
Isabella could hear shouts from the bailey and knew the keep was besieged.
No one heeded Edmund’s call.
Edmund snatched for Isabella, who cast herself toward Amaury. Amaury pulled a blade from his boot and advanced upon Edmund, but Edmund seized Isabella, catching a fistful of her hair. He dragged her before himself like a shield, then gripped at her throat to choke her.
“You cannot save her this time,” he declared.
Amaury shrugged, but Isabella knew he was not indifferent to her fate. He was tense and she watched him closely, guessing he would grant her some signal. She strove to pry Edmund’s fingers from her neck. “I shall have to satisfy myself with bringing justice to you.”
Edmund laughed. “Do you not see? The ranks of Marnis will close upon you. My only choice is which of you shall die first. Who will be most troubled to watch the demise of the other? I think you must be first, Amaury de Montvieux. I shall cast your carcass out the gates and your forces will retreat.”
“Not without my lady they will not.”
“Trust me.”
“Alas, Edmund, I do not.” Amaury’s gaze flicked and Isabella knew she was warned.
He then kicked at the rushes so that they flew into the air.
In that same moment, Isabella drove her heel hard against Edmund.
She heard him moan, and hauled her hair from his grasp when his grip slackened.
She leapt toward Amaury who cast her behind himself.
The older man retreated a few steps, then suddenly spun to face Amaury with Mallory’s knife held high. They circled each other, thrusting and parrying, each so focussed on the other that they might have been alone.
Isabella realized that Faydide’s eyes were opening.
“So, you used Mallory’s ambitions against him, ensuring that he killed Denis so you did not have to do as much?” Isabella said, watching Faydide’s eyes fly open.
“Of course, I did,” Edmund snapped. “He was readily turned to my will. Ambitious fools always are.” He kicked at Amaury who seized his ankle and twisted it.
Edmund fell and Faydide roused herself abruptly, flinging herself upon him.
She pummelled Edmund and punched him, venting her fury upon the older man who had not anticipated her assault.
“Witch!” he screamed, as Amaury seized Isabella’s hand and they ran together into the bailey. She heard something fall and glanced back to see Faydide sprawled on the floor, Edmund staggering as he glared down at her motionless form.
Then he straightened and looked after them. Amaury did not have to urge Isabella to hasten then. They fled, hand in hand.
“You should not have come,” she told him even as they ran into the bailey.
“You knew I would,” he replied with surety and she could not help but smile.
“Aye,” she murmured. “Aye, I feared you would.”
He cast her a triumphant glance. “I love you, Isabella. I could do naught else.”
She gasped in wonder and he grinned at her surprise, then they emerged into the bailey.
Isabella could only stare. The air was filled with black smoke and part of the defensive wall was aflame.
Burning arrows flew through the air and men screamed as some of them found their mark.
Confusion reigned in the bailey but on the high walls, bowsmen fired into the distance with resolve.
“We shall never escape,” she whispered, but Amaury nodded toward a ladder far to the right and pulled her onward.
I love you.