HealingPassion (12 page)

Another, more likely possibility occurred to him. Perhaps,
Groswick did still live, but was mad. ‘Twould make sense they would try to
conceal such a thing. But where might they have secreted him? Somewhere in the
keep, for a certainty.

Thomas walked around the bailey, considering various
possibilities, ducking into occasional recesses in the walls, looking into
shops large enough to have back rooms. In the walls he found only storerooms
for arms, grain, lumber, nails, and other supplies. The back rooms he peered
into generally served as sleeping quarters for apprentices or as storerooms.

He studied other features of the main building, but saw no
obvious wings or outbuildings he couldn’t account for.

As he had the other day while out riding, Thomas got the
feeling of unseen eyes watching him. It made him wary, remembering how that day
had ended. But no crossbow bolts soared his way.

The sound of voices and a clanking of shovels or other tools
led him around a wall on the far side of the keep. As he rounded the bend, he
realized the wall beside him was part of the chapel. A group of five or six men
worked in the area beyond, digging. Rough wood crosses stood up from the ground
at intervals, with a few stone markers in a row near a rock wall at the back.
The men labored just beyond the farthest of them, excavating a new grave. For
Lady Ardsley, no doubt.

He didn’t want to interrupt their work, so he stopped and
watched for a moment, scanning the area. A few other places showed the
disturbed dirt of recent burials, some where fresh patches of grass had just
begun to sprout.

The men didn’t notice his presence or chose not to
acknowledge it, if they did. But someone else did.

His alertness kept him from being startled or unprepared
when footsteps sounded from behind him. Their quiet, halting approach suggested
some attempt at stealth, or at least wariness. Thomas waited until the person
was within a few feet, then ducked to the side, whirled and shot out a hand to
grab the arm of the man behind him.

The man let out a startled cry. “Sir Thomas!”

He was a very young man, familiar, but it took Thomas a
moment to place him. “Peter Randolph? Never sneak up behind a knight. You could
find your head separated from your shoulders before you had a chance to
identify yourself.”

The young man paled. “I’m not… I didn’t…”

“I can see you have no weapon drawn, and well for you ‘tis
so.” Thomas released his hold on the young man, who stumbled as he tried to
back away. “What might I do for you, Randolph?”

“Naught.” The word wavered a bit. The young man drew a harsh
breath and struggled to control his voice. “Naught. I just wondered…about Lord
Groswick. Do you know any more of what has become of him?”

Thomas relaxed himself but considered his words before he
spoke them. “I have some idea, but no clear picture. And nothing to prove what
I suspect. I’m going back inside. Walk with me, if you will.”

Randolph nodded and turned with him back toward the main
door to the keep.

“What do you believe happened to Lord Groswick?” Randolph
asked.

Thomas stared at the younger man, studying his eager
expression. It was there, not so much in his look as in his words. An undertone
of challenge he surely didn’t realize he let sound. Randolph knew.

“Groswick never left the castle,” Thomas stated. “I know not
whether he is dead and buried here, though I suspect ‘tis the case, or if he be
immured in some remote cranny to hide his madness or a shameful disease. But
all I’ve learned convinces me he never left. Did you actually see him go?”

Thomas watched the young man’s face carefully as he
deliberated about what to say. The fact that it took him so long to decide what
to say was all the answer Thomas actually needed.

“Nay, my lord. I didn’t see him go. I’d been sent on an
errand to the miller at Hoopsdale at the time, however.”

“Aye. It appears everyone had business elsewhere on that
day.”

Randolph remained silent for a few moments before he asked,
“What will you do, my lord?”

Thomas shrugged. “What can I do? Until someone will tell me
the truth, I have naught but suspicion to take to the king. How he might choose
to act on it, I cannot guess.”

They climbed the steps up to the great hall, where Randolph
left him to go in search of his father. Thomas went back to his quarters.

Ralf was awake and propped up on pillows. Though pale, his
eyes were clear, and his expression had a spark of vitality and alertness.
Thomas sent away the servant who’d been sitting with the squire and settled in
to talk with the young man for a while.

Chapter Eleven

Juliana roused slowly, aware at first only of a peace she
knew was too fragile to last. No one else lay beside her in the bed. Gradually
memory returned. Her mother was gone. Her confession to Sir Thomas had been
interrupted by her mother’s collapse, but it still loomed before her. Not
today, though. She had too much else to bear today.

She rose and rang for a servant to come help her dress. From
the angle of the sunlight, it had to be near noon. She never slept so late, but
exhaustion had overtaken her when she’d finally cried herself to sleep in Sir
Thomas’ arms.

There was much to do. She forced herself to drink the tea
and eat the slice of toasted bread the servants brought her. Her stomach wanted
none of it, but she dared not let her strength wane.

Sir Thomas was out in the bailey somewhere, she was told
when she inquired about him. A quick stop in to see Ralf found him sleeping
peacefully, with no trace of fever. He roused a bit when she put a hand on his
brow, mumbling something at her, but not waking fully. “Sleep,” she told him as
she left.

Her mother’s body had been removed to the chapel. Two servants
accompanied her there, carrying the things she would need to prepare Lady
Ardsley for burial. The procedure should only have taken an hour or so, but
because she had to stop frequently to control her emotion, it was almost
mid-afternoon before she finished.

The priest came in as Juliana was completing the
preparations. Along with the two servants who’d come with her, they said a
rosary for the repose of her mother’s soul before they discussed arrangements
for the funeral mass in the morning.

Once that was done, Juliana went on to the kitchen to ensure
they could lay out extra food for the mourners the next day.

On her way back through the great hall, a group of people
led by Peter Randolph stopped her.

“He knows, my lady,” the younger Randolph said, his voice
low but angry. “He knows, and he’ll report it to the king if we don’t stop him
now.”

“What does he know?”

“He knows Lord Groswick did not leave the keep.”

“But he doesn’t know of Groswick’s fate?”

“Nay, though he strongly suspects. He’ll take his suspicions
to the king, and the king will act.”

“Then so ‘twill be,” she answered. “Perhaps ‘tis time and
beyond for this to be set right. I’ll not have him or his people hurt any
further. My mother is beyond worrying about consequences, and my soul is sick
of the stain of deception.”

“Your mother is beyond your care, but what of the rest of
us?” the maid, Avice, asked. “We need you as well. And what of the king’s
retribution should he learn of the deception? We’ve lied to protect you, my
lady. Will you now betray us by exposing those lies?”

It stopped Juliana for a moment. “You’ve none of you done
other than what I ordered or requested, and should I have to answer for my
deeds to the king, I’ll make that clear. The responsibility is entirely mine,
and the consequences shall be also. The king will not fault you for following
the orders of your lady, as is your duty to do. As for you needing me… There
are others here who can maintain order and keep things running smoothly in my
absence. The king will appoint a new lord, and I feel sure Sir Thomas will see
that our new lord is better than the former one.”

“Yet you cannot assure us of that,” Avice argued. “And
you’ve done well by us, lady. What happened was no evil on your part. We would
not wish you to suffer for it.”

“I’d prefer not to suffer for it either. Yet, I fear if I do
not at least own to my guilt and pay for it in this world, ‘twill be worse for
me in the next.”

“Then you will tell Sir Thomas?”

“Aye. I would have already had not my mother fallen ill.”

“My lady, I beg you—”

They were all so engrossed in the confrontation that none of
them noted the arrival of the man who stood in the arch—until he spoke. “I
would very much like to learn what confession you have to make, my lady. I
presume it concerns Lord Groswick’s mysterious disappearance?”

Several of them whirled and gasped at once, a few others
squealed or murmured, “Sir Thomas!”

Juliana had a moment of dizziness and disorientation while
it felt as though the floor beneath her wobbled. She groped for a table nearby
and leaned against it as she fought for control.

While struggling not to faint, she managed to miss a piece
of action, though she heard the sound of a scuffle, raised voices, yells,
squeals and the thunk of a fist on flesh. When she could risk straightening and
turning to look she realized that several of the man had surrounded and
overcome Sir Thomas. They now held him tightly, a man on either arm, pinning
them back behind him, wedging him between them to keep him still.

Peter Randolph held a long, wicked-looking knife, and as she
watched, he raised it to the knight’s throat. Juliana had no doubt of what he
intended.

She screamed, “No!”

It froze them for a moment, long enough to let her throw
herself between Sir Thomas and the knife. Peter took a step back but didn’t
lower the weapon. “Drop it, Peter,” she ordered.

He hesitated. Watching his eyes told her he planned to try
to move around her. “Drop it now, before I step forward into it.” She said it
with so much force that several of the people around screamed and surged
forward to stop her. She held out a hand to halt them.

Peter looked dumbfounded and his breath came out on a sob.
“My lady!” He slid to the side and so did she, then she moved forward. The
young man dropped the knife hastily before she could impale herself on its
point.

She felt and heard movement behind her and turned in time to
see Thomas free himself from the two men hanging onto him. But others rushed in
and pinned him once again.

“No,” she ordered, seeing Peter reclaim the knife and
approach. “I’ll not have it. He’s done nothing to harm us. He merely seeks the
truth.”

“He’ll harm you if he learns the truth, my lady,” Avice
said.

“He’ll learn the truth now. I’ll have no more lies. There
have been too many already.”

“My lady,” several people protested.

“Nay.” She shook her head to deny their protests. “Release
him.”

The men holding Thomas looked uneasy. One let go but others
continued to hang onto him. Peter’s hand tightened around the knife, and his
expression grew more determined.

“If you harm him, I’ll go to the king myself and tell him
all.”

“My lady, you cannot,” Peter insisted.

“No more lies. I cannot live this way. Too much harm has
been done already. I’ll tell my story and take whatever consequences may come.
Sir Thomas—” She turned to face him. “I rely on you to ensure the king
understands whatever guilt there is here belongs to me alone. These people must
not be punished for my actions.”

She dreaded meeting Sir Thomas’ gaze, but stiffened her will
and did so anyway. All the anger and betrayal she expected brightened his eyes.

“What happened to Lord Groswick?” he asked, ignoring the men
holding him as though they were no more than flies lighting on him.

“I killed him.”

For several long, unbearable moments, he just stared at her.
Shock and astonishment kept him still. Her words took time to penetrate beyond
his surprise, and even then they had to burrow into his awareness before he
started to comprehend. Belief took a few minutes longer. “Tell me all,” he
demanded.

Juliana breathed out on a long sigh. “I will. But not here.”

She drew herself up and looked around at the crowd that had
gathered. “I am still your lady,” she told them in her most authoritative
voice. “Release Sir Thomas. Take Peter Randolph into your custody instead.” For
a moment she feared they might not obey so she added, “Now!”

The men acted. Randolph protested as the knife was removed
from his hand, and the two men who’d held Sir Thomas wrapped up the young man’s
slighter form instead.

“My lady, please!” the young man pleaded. “I was trying to
protect you.”

“I know that. But I told you more than once I wanted no harm
to Sir Thomas and his people. You did not listen or obey. Now I cannot trust
you.”

She turned to the men holding him. “Remove him to one of the
dungeons until I decide what to do with him. I’ll not have a guest in this
place go in fear of his life during his stay here.”

The men did as she ordered and dragged off a protesting
Randolph. Juliana turned to the others present and asked them to return to
their work, reminding them that her mother’s funeral would be on the morrow.
When they’d dispersed, she nodded for Thomas to follow her to her quarters.

As they entered the room, she tried to read his expression,
to gauge how he felt about her admission. What would he do when he heard all of
it?

She sighed, grieving for what might have been. If she’d been
the innocent, sorrowing widow he’d thought her. If she hadn’t been persuaded to
hide the truth. If she’d hadn’t argued with Groswick that day. If her life had
worked out along different lines. If she’d married someone else…

What might it have been like if she’d married Sir Thomas
instead of Groswick?

“The story,” Sir Thomas said, once he’d closed the door
behind them. “The truth this time, if you please.”

She nodded, but initially her voice refused to work.
Something clogged her throat, making it difficult to force the words out. She
drew in a long breath, letting it out on a sigh.

“You never met Groswick, so you would not know what he was
like.” She paused, not sure how to frame her explanation. “He was not a kind
man. Nor an honorable one like yourself. He had no patience. And when he was
angry, he had little control of it. If events didn’t go as he wished, he was as
like to strike out at what he saw as the cause of his frustration.”

She watched Thomas, but still couldn’t read anything from
his expression.

“He often struck out at others. The entire household was
terrified of him.” She drew another breath trying to calm herself. “Within a
day or two of our wedding, I was also. Unlike you, Sir Thomas, my Lord Groswick
had difficulties with his manhood. It often refused to rise to his desire. I
did all I knew how to rouse him, but more often than not, I failed. He faulted
me for being unable to inspire him. Indeed, at first, I did believe it was my
lack. But then I learned he’d approached most of the presentable women in the
area, and none had been able to draw more reaction. More, I discovered he… But,
nay, he’s dead now and ‘tis best not to speak of it.”

“In any event, as I said, he blamed me for his failure. He
beat me for it.” She stopped to control a sob that tried to escape.

“The scars on your face?” Thomas asked.

She still could tell nothing from his expression. “Aye. I
learned early to allow him to do as he would. Once, just months after our
wedding, I called for help. A servant came and tried to protect me. Groswick
killed him. Beat him to death. My mother tried to talk to him, and when that
failed, she tried to stop him, but he paid her no mind. He even pushed her once
and made her fall. Between his mistreatment of her and the servant, I learned
not to argue, to be as silent as I could when he…struck me.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to bear the pain of
the memories. “One day, about a year ago, we argued. As usual, I hadn’t been
able to rouse him, but he had also lost his favorite horse a few days before,
and had…other things go wrong. He was more than normally frustrated, which
roused more than normal anger. He accused me of…many wicked things. I would
accept his berating me for not being able to rouse him, though I’d come to
doubt the fault was truly mine, but when he would have me…meeting other men on
the side and cuckolding him with the stable hands, I refused to accept it. We
fought. He slapped me and pushed me. When he began to hit me with his fists,
I…panicked. I feared he would kill me, so I fought back. I tried to run away,
but he barred the door and chased me around and around the room. When he caught
me again, I picked up something—a pitcher—and hit him with it. He reeled back
from me. There were things on the floor—cups and dishes and
candleholders—because we’d upset a table. Groswick tripped on one of them and
went down. He fell on the table that was overturned. He hit his head on a
corner. Hard. So hard it… It split his head open. I believe he died almost
immediately.”

Juliana found herself shaking almost uncontrollably. Her
knees wobbled so badly she had to sit on the side of the bed before she fell
down. She didn’t expect any comfort from him, and he didn’t offer any. She did
anticipate recriminations, but those didn’t come either.

“Why didn’t you just go to the king and tell him Lord
Groswick had died as a result of an accident?”

“Because I killed him. I hit him with the pitcher and he
fell.”

“You need not have told the king that.”

It took an effort to hold back her sob. “I was not thinking
clearly at the time. I was…upset. In truth, I was so blindly distraught, I knew
not what to do. My mother, Master Randolph, and a few of the others came in and
saw what had happened. ‘Twas they who decided to bury Groswick and put it about
that he’d left to fight on the Continent. I should have stopped them, but I
didn’t think to do so then. I was unable to think at all then. I only just
survived. By the time I recovered enough to reason it out, ‘twas done, and I
saw no way to undo it without further harm. In truth, I never thought it would
cause any injury. I supposed eventually the king would realize Groswick was
gone and appoint a new lord and all would be well.”

He didn’t say more when she paused.

“Then you came and turned everything upside down. I never
thought anyone would inquire so deeply into what had happened to Groswick. Nor
did I expect I would ever meet a man I would come to…admire and love so much. I
feel as though I’ve been torn in two over the past sennight since you came. I
could not think what to do, but I knew I could not allow you to be hurt. It
grieves me more than I can say that Ralf was injured. And my soul feels as
though it has a great stain on it from the lies…and from what I did to
Groswick.”