A Flame Run Wild (50 page)

The bowman nocked a new arrow and drew back. Louis abruptly waved him to lower the bow. "Sorry, Uncle, but I have better use for the bitch in my bed . . . and you've lasted long enough." Slipping out his dirk, he lurged with brutal force at Jacques's paunch, sinking it deep. Jacques's mouth sagged open as his last breath left him even before the dirk touched him. Louis wrenched the weapon out. "Damnation! The old dog was lucky to the end!"

"You're not," drawled the Norseman, leaning against the jamb of the hall's great doors. He strolled into the hall. "A fire is roaring to the north. Castle de Signe appears to be going up like a dry tree."

Louis whirled on Alexandre as he waved to the Norseman to bind his wrists. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing, at the moment. As you can see, my hands are now tied," replied Alexandre. "Philip's, on the other hand, are not."

"He's attacking Castle de Signe?" cried Louis. He pounded past Olaf to the battlement.

As soon as Louis was gone, Alexandre addressed the Norseman. ''Free me and you will be richly rewarded."

"With chickens?" the Viking mocked, studying Alexandre's waxen face. "From what I've seen, that is all you have to spare."

"I have jewels hidden away," put in Liliane. "More than you will ever see tagging after Louis. King Philip is Count Alexandre's loyal friend and he outnumbers Louis; he will kill you all."

"I've seen no kings—just a fire," Olaf said lazily. "Anyone can start a fire." He grinned. "I haven't seen any jewels either. You will have to tell me where they are."

"Cut us loose," urged Liliane, "and I shall show you."

The Norseman shook his head. "That's asking me to put the cart before the horse. When I'm bought, I stay bought, unless somebody flashes a better price before my eyes." His teeth flashed again, his smile wide and friendly.

Liliane turned in desperation to Alexandre.

"Kiki," he said slowly, wearily. "Summon Kiki."

As she realized what he meant, Liliane's face brightened. She trilled a high whistle, then made a series of clicks with her tongue. When a few minutes passed and nothing happened, she repeated her call. A wary frown furrowed the Norseman's brow. "Who's Kiki?" he demanded, shifting his battle-ax from his shoulder to poise at the ready.

"Possibly the source of your better price," replied Alexandre, He stealthily tested his bonds; they were not only secure but cutting into his swollen wrists. Thanks to Louis's poison, the ache in his head had spread throughout his body. "At any rate," he advised the Viking, "Kiki scarcely reaches your knees, so you can relax your weapon.''

The Norseman did not budge. A moment later, a small furtive creature edged into the room. After wringing its hands for an instant, it darted for Liliane and scurried to her shoulder, where it peered with worried eyes at the startled Norseman.

"This," Liliane told him, "is Kiki." She rubbed her cheek against the monkey's fur, then drew its attention to the brooch at her shoulder. "I want another jewel, Kiki," she murmured. "Another pretty, just like this one. Bring, Kiki. Fetch ..." The monkey slithered to the floor and was off.

The Norseman lit out after her, but he was back almost immediately, shaking his head ruefully. "That's a quick beast. What in Wodin's name is it?"

"A monkey," Liliane told him. "A pet from the Crescent."

"Fancy that. I have heard of those things . . . monkeys." While the Viking mused, Louis returned.

He strode furiously up to Alexandre and slapped him. Alexandre's blue eyes flared wickedly. "Cut me loose and try that!" In answer, Louis slapped him again. Alexandre's foot hooked his ankle and dropped Louis onto his backside. Louis jumped up, his dirk snaking from its sheath. Olaf quickly stepped between them, his ax blade diverting Louis's lunge at Alexandre's throat. The ax blade gave a brief, sweet ring that ended in a grate of steel.

The Norseman grimaced but blocked the raging Louis's blade again. "A fit of spite won't do now," he told Louis flatly with a cooling look in his eye that caused the other man to hesitate. "If you have trouble with your king, keeping Brueil alive may be our only way out of it."

"You take orders from me!" spat Louis. "Not the other way around. I'll have you spitted—"'

"Will you now?" Olaf's eyes narrowed. He moved ominously forward as Louis, backed up. "You're making one mistake after another, aren't you?"

Louis seemed to reconsider his position. "I was angry," he said sullenly. "For two years now, Brueil has caused me nothing but difficulty."

"I can imagine," drawled Olaf. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Kiki returning to Liliane. Emeralds and ice glittered about the monkey's neck. With a nod of her head, Liliane motioned the monkey to stay out of sight. Instantly, Kiki disappeared under the trencher table. Olaf appraised Louis's nervousness, Alexandre's now icy calm. "What do you make of the fire, Milord de Signe?"

"Castle de Signe appears to be burning," Louis answered reluctantly. "I've sent a man to be certain."

"Expecting a siege there?"

"Of course not! Philip was supposed to be in Paris!"

"How many men will he have?"

"Enough to take Castle de Signe," Alexandre answered for Louis. "He had forty knights and three hundred soldiers with him at Avignon. Your best chance is escape by sea."

"I'm not going to run!" snapped Louis. "Do you think I'm going to settle for nothing? My man will be back in less than two hours, and then I'll decide!"

"In that time, we could be well out at sea," observed the Viking, "or we could be caught here like rats in a trap." "We wait," said Louis stubbornly.

Olaf shrugged.

They waited until Alexandre felt as if a knife was being driven into his skull and his bones were cracking. Liliane had been cut down, and she was sitting on the steps of the far side of the dais. She was beginning to watch him intently, and he knew she sensed that something was wrong with him. She was trying not to let Olaf and Louis guess her concern, for they would misinterpret it and doubt Philip's presence. Just now, Alexandre's pretense of calm was undermining Louis's resolve more man any verbal insistence would have done.

However, Alexandre was dying by fractions and keeping the pain from his face was becoming nearly impossible. And all for a futile purpose. The most his and Liliane's ruse could do was keep them alive until Louis's man arrived with the news that Castle de Signe was intact and not a royal pennant was in sight. At least, Alexandre reflected grimly, the pacing Louis was being distracted from Liliane. When that distraction vanished ...

The time trickled slowly by. Louis's face grew pinched, his circuit about the room taking him with increasing frequency to the north windows. Sometimes, after staring at the spreading smoke over his fief, he pressed his forehead hard against the stone for minutes at a time. His jaw was rigid, a line of pain furrowing between his brows. At length, the Norseman glanced at him. "Not two hours, you said? By my reckoning, your man's had nearby three."

"More than enough time to be back," observed Liliane. "Your spy is either captured or dead, Louis."

Louis shot her a venomous look. "Perhaps he's just been delayed. His horse could have taken a spill, gone lame ..."

"And, as Uncle Jacques said, the moon could stream curds and whey." Liliane turned her attention to Olaf. "Do we go on waiting?"

He leaned on his ax. "Ask Milord de Signe. He will be first to hang if he gives the wrong answer."

"Well, Louis?"

Louis stared at her blackly, then rubbed his forehead; it was the same pasty hue as Alexandre's, and his jaw was rigid with pain.

"Make the coast, Louis, and you have a chance," Alexandre baited hoarsely. "You can go to Italy. Stay here and you are as dead as Jacques and me."

For a moment, Louis looked taken aback, then his eyes narrowed as he realized that Alexandre must have guessed about the poison. He gnawed his lip as he fingered his dirk. "Very well," he said at last, "we go."

A quarter of an hour later, with Liliane mounted on the saddle before him, Louis abandoned Castle de Brueil. Behind him rode the bound Alexandre, and Olaf and the hired mercenaries, followed by ten of Louis's knights and a stream of hurrying foot soldiers. Across the dry fields, a trail of dust rose and filtered away to the north, where it mingled at last with a dirty cloud of smoke.

They arrived shortly at the sea where Cannes, a small fishing village that had remained almost unchanged since Phoenician times, clung to the rocks. Louis reined in before the wind-battered hut of the village elder. A middle-aged man hurried out and squinted up at him. "How may we serve you, great lord?"

"Boats," demanded Louis. "We must have all your fishing boats."

"What then will we use for our fishing?" protested the elder. "Our livelihood depends on our boats."

"Your lives depend on giving me what I want," Louis roared. "Where are the boats?"

The elder waved at the empty beach, then pointed at a single, ancient fishing craft beached below in the rocky village inlet. "Out. All the boats are out after the day's catch. That one is unreliable in heavy seas."

"I'll take it." Louis pounded off toward the boat, his band trailing after him. Women and children scattered from the stretched nets they were repairing on the rocks as the horsemen and scrambling foot soldiers threaded down the paths trickling to the inlet. Louis reached the boat first.

The Norseman remained upon the higher rocks with a bowman he had ordered to his side. "Milord de Signe," he called down when Louis had dismounted and dragged Liliane from the saddle. "That boat will hold only six people. Who will go with you?"

"The Lady Liliane," yelled Louis, dropping her in the boat, "you, and two men-at-arms."

"What of the rest?" Olaf waved at the descending men now hesitating uncertainly on the rocks.

"They can go where they like," replied Louis distractedly as he untethered the boat. "I'll see they're paid when I return to France." He turned on Alexandre and unsheathed his sword. "This one, I don't need anymore."

As the sword swung high, Olaf's ringing voice stopped it in mid swing. "Brueil is worth something to me, and you will pay us now!" The Viking cocked his crossbow.

"Be reasonable," shouted Louis. "I have no gold with me and without Brueil, Philip has no reason to think that any of you had anything to do with the seizure of his castle!"

"Just now you are a penniless, erratic man; Louis," said Liliane coolly. "They are learning they cannot rely on you or your good faith." Her voice lifted to tine angry men on the rocks. "Forget Louis de Signe! You will never see your gold from him now. He is leaving you to be run down by King Philip. Your only hope lies in turning to Count Alexandre!''

"What of our necks?" shouted one. "Why shouldn't the count hand us over to King Philip for hanging?"

"You have my word that you will be safe from punishment," Alexandre said hoarsely. "The only man who must answer to the king is Louis de Signe."

His men's faces revealing their readiness to turn on him, Louis grabbed for the boat's bow.

"Halt or be drilled!" cried Olaf. Louis froze. "Treachery I can stomach, but I will not follow a gutless bully who will one day knife me on a whim," said Olaf. "There may not be a penny's difference between you and Brueil, but from what I've seen, you fight best when your opponent is tied, Signe. Suppose we see how you fere in the same predicament." He motioned to the bowman. "Drop the sword, Signe, or he'll drop you." When Louis hesitated, Olaf added grimly, "You thought him a fine enough shot to turn on a woman and her unborn babe, man. 'Twill settle my stomach to send you after your conniving uncle."

"I can take him!" blustered Louis, still clutching his sword.

"And I have wealth enough in Italy. I'm good for every livre my uncle promised. All you have to do is come with me to Rome, Olaf, and I will send you back with enough gold to twice reward the rest of you!"

"Gallows bait can't spend gold, Signe," yelled a soldier.

"That says it!" cried another. Shouts went up from more of them.

Olaf held out his hands. "Enough, lads. You'll see Count Louis prove his worth to us. Off with your weapons, Milord de Signe!"

His shout was taken up and the inlet rang with demands for Louis to obey without delay. Staring about at them with bloodshot eyes, Louis spat, then flung the sword up onto the rocks.

Olaf came down the rocks and ordered Alexandre pulled off his destrier. He sawed the bonds off Alexandre's wrists, then roughly chafed his numbed hands. "Stand with right ankles together," he ordered the two men. Dazedly, Alexandre watched Olaf bind his ankle to Louis's. "Get in the boat with the countess," commanded Olaf. Awkwardly, Alexandre climbed into the boat with Louis. Olaf climbed in after them, then summoned another soldier to row them out into the inlet.

The water was still, bluer than the reflected sky, with inky depths near the jutting rocks. "Here," said Olaf when they had reached the middle of the inlet. He tossed two dirks over the side, then turned to Alexandre and Louis. "The rest is up to you. I deal with the survivor.'' Liliane gasped as Olaf powerfully shoved them overboard.

Alexandre instinctively kept from floundering as the water closed over his head. The impact of the cold water was agonizing to his throbbing skull, but it cleared his misted wits. He'd had all he could do to stay on his horse during the ride from Castle de Brueil; Louis must be in equally bad shape. He jackknifed down into the darkness, peering desperately for the dirks. Louis was nearly at the bottom, his hands spreading out as he probed through the underwater rocks.