“I believe one of the servants told them
where to find it,” Mirielle said. “Alda, I keep my workroom locked
because certain of my medicines could cause more harm than good if
they are used by someone who does not know the proper dosage. And
some of the preparations I make are meant to be used outside the
body, rather than ingested. It is for safety’s sake I keep that
room locked.”
“For his safety’s sake, perhaps you have
concealed Hugh there,” Alda suggested.
“I told you,” Mirielle repeated. “I have not
spoken to Master Hugh for more than a day.”
“My lady Alda,” said one of the men-at-arms,
coming up the steps and into the entrance hall from the bailey, “we
have searched as you told us to do, but we can discover no trace of
the man, Hugh.”
“Captain Oliver,” Alda ordered, “call out all
your men and find Hugh. Don’t just stand there gaping at me. Do it
now!”
“Yes, my lady.” Waving an arm to beckon the
men-at-arms who were in the great hall to follow him, a frowning,
openly disapproving Captain Oliver departed for the bailey.
“Not you, Mauger,” Alda said when the
watchman started to leave, too. “I have a special assignment for
you. Choose four or five of your friends and come with me.”
“Aye, my lady.” Mauger stuck his head out the
door and yelled a few names to men in the bailey.
“Perhaps this search ought to wait for
Brice’s return,” Mirielle said. She had been growing steadily more
and more uneasy, and she did not like the look on Alda’s beautiful
face. There was more going on here than mere suspicion on Alda’s
part.
“Do you think so?” With withering scorn Alda
looked her up and down as if Mirielle were an ugly blot on the
immediate landscape. “I rule here, not you. And not your cousin
Brice, though he thinks he can rule me—or neglect me, as he
pleases.”
“Do not let your irritation with Brice make
you mistreat and imprison innocent guests,” Mirielle begged. “Alda,
this is a serious breach of the customs of hospitality.”
“It was not innocence that took Sir Giles to
the crypt or to the gatehouse when he was supposed to be too sick
to leave his bed,” Alda said in a cold, tight voice. “Nor are you
innocent in what is happening in this place. Mauger, where are your
men?”
“Here, my lady.” Mauger had assembled half a
dozen of the biggest, most surly and unpleasant of the
men-at-arms.
“Come with me,” Alda commanded. “Bring
Mirielle along, too, whether she wishes to join us or not. Let us
discover what secrets she is keeping.”
“Alda, what are you going to do?” Mirielle
asked.
“You will soon discover what I intend.”
“Do as Lady Alda says.” Mauger took
Mirielle’s arm in a tight grip.
“Unhand me!” Mirielle twisted and pulled
against Mauger’s greater strength.
“Better let her go, Mauger,” advised one of
his men, grinning. “I’ve heard she can cast spells. If you make her
angry, she’ll cast one over you.”
“My cousin Brice will have you flogged when I
tell him what you are doing to me,” Mirielle said.
“More likely, Lady Alda will have Sir Brice
flogged.” But, whether from the threat of flogging or from his
friend’s hint of magical spells, Mauger did let Mirielle go. He
gave her a shove between her shoulder blades to send her on ahead
of him.
Alda paid no attention to this mistreatment
of a gentlewoman. She led the men-at-arms through the keep and down
a flight of stairs until the group drew up before Mirielle’s
workroom. Mirielle was not at all surprised that Alda knew where it
was.
“Open the door, Mirielle,” Alda commanded. “I
want proof that Hugh is not hiding in your room.”
“The lock has not been tampered with,”
Mirielle pointed out. “Therefore, no one can be inside.”
“Do you take us for fools?” asked Mauger.
“Mayhap you let Hugh in, and then you fastened the lock again from
the outside, to make us think he’s not in there.”
“Mirielle, if you do not open the door at
once,” Alda said, “I will send one of Mauger’s friends for an axe
and have the door chopped down. Much good your special lock will do
then.”
Mirielle was certain that, in her present
mood, Alda would carry out her threat. With much trepidation, she
began to unfasten the complicated lock. Fearing that Hugh might in
fact have taken refuge in her workroom just as Alda suspected, and
might then have used his skills as a mage to make the lock appear
to be untouched, Mirielle worked as slowly and made as much noise
as she could. She hoped thus to give Hugh ample time to make his
escape. He was not a very large man. If he were inside, he could
probably flee through the window into the inner bailey, where he
would have to take his chances with the men-at-arms who were
searching for him. Hugh might escape, but if he did not she would
trust Captain Oliver to keep both of the prisoners safe until Brice
returned. Unless, of course, Alda interfered—or Mauger, at her
order.
“Will you hurry?” Alda exclaimed. “Mauger,
you open the door, if Mirielle will not do it.”
“There is no need to damage either lock or
door,” Mirielle said, hiding her fear behind a mask of calm
assurance. “It is open now.”
Mauger’s friends pushed her aside and rushed
into the workroom. After a quick look around Mauger flung open the
shutter to look out of the window.
“There’s no sign of Master Hugh in the inner
bailey,” the watchman reported. “He’s not in here, either.”
“What do you mean, he’s not here? Of course
he’s here! Mirielle has hidden him somewhere. There must be a
hiding place behind the shelves. Perhaps there is a hidden room.”
With her lovely face contorted into a grimace of anger and
distaste, Alda entered the workroom. She walked into it as if the
floor were a bed of hot coals.
“Alda, don’t be ridiculous,” Mirielle said.
“You know these walls are solid stone and rubble. There are no
secret rooms—no, don’t!” This last exclamation was directed at one
of Mauger’s men, who had just swept the contents of a shelf lined
with pottery jars onto the floor so that he could pound on the wall
at the back of the shelf. The man trod carelessly upon the fallen
jars, their lids, and the spilled contents, leaving an assortment
of broken pottery and dried herbs and oils in his wake when he
moved on to destroy the contents of the next shelf.
“Alda, make them stop,” Mirielle pleaded.
“First, tell me where Hugh is hiding,” Alda
said. “I want that man found. I want to know his reason for coming
to Wroxley.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t know where he is!”
Mirielle wrung her hands at the destruction being wrought upon her
workroom. Mauger’s men were throwing every jar of herbal
preparations they could find onto the floor. Taking open pleasure
in what they were doing, they then went on to smash all of the
glass vessels. Using the tongs Mirielle kept handy for her work
with hot materials, they tore at the metal door of the furnace,
breaking the hinges. Mauger himself pulled down the bunches of
dried herbs from the rafters and threw them on top of the furnace
where, after a moment or two, they burst into flames from the
residual heat. One of the men grabbed the wooden box and dumped out
the books and the scroll that Mirielle so treasured. Picking up the
books, the man tore apart several pages before he let the scroll
unroll onto the floor. The parchment was soon torn beneath the
boots of Mauger’s uncaring friends.
“Get that cursed cat out of here!” Alda
ordered as the frightened Minn ran into the room to seek shelter
under Mirielle’s skirts.
“Leave Minn alone!” Goaded beyond endurance,
Mirielle launched herself at Alda.
“No, you don’t.” Mauger caught Mirielle
around the waist, preventing her from reaching Alda. “She gives the
orders here, not you.”
“Let me go!” Mirielle fought him but Mauger
held her tight and Alda advanced upon her with hand upraised.
“You dare to defy me?” Alda’s cold,
controlled rage was more terrifying to Mirielle than the usual wild
tantrum. Alda slapped Mirielle so hard that Mirielle was forced
back against Mauger’s chest.
“I’ll have you whipped for disobedience.”
Again Alda’s hand connected with Mirielle’s cheek. “I’ll have your
cat skinned alive and make you watch.” Another slap followed.
“Stop this, Alda!” Before Alda could hit
Mirielle yet again, Brice appeared in the doorway. He caught Alda’s
upraised arm, restraining her.
“Release my cousin!” Brice’s dark eyes blazed
at Mauger.
“Lady Alda gives the orders here,” Mauger
said again, still holding tight to Mirielle.
“Have you forgotten that you answer directly
to me, Mauger?” Captain Oliver stood to one side just within the
door to let a dozen of his men-at-arms file into the room. “And so
are these other men with you bound to follow my orders. None of you
have my permission to manhandle a noblewoman. If you value your
lives, do as Sir Brice commands. Let Lady Mirielle go.”
“Not till my lady Alda says so.” Mauger
remained defiant.
“Alda,” Brice warned, “give him the order.”
His fingers tightened noticeably on Alda’s arm. Alda winced. Not
one man in that room, not even Mauger, objected to what Brice was
doing.
“Let her go,” Alda said to Mauger, speaking
between gritted teeth. “I will deal with her later, in my own
way.”
With a show of reluctance, Mauger released
his hold on Mirielle.
“You,” Captain Oliver said to Mauger and his
accomplices, “take yourselves to the gatehouse and wait for me
there.
“Lady Mirielle,” the captain of the guard
said when Mauger and his men were gone, “I am sorry for the
mistreatment you have suffered, and for the damage done here. I
know how much good you do with your herbal preparations and now it
looks to me as if we will all have to do without medicines until
you can restore this room so you can make more of them. Shall I
have my men sweep out the debris? Or would you rather have the
maidservants to help you?”
“She will have no help,” Alda declared. “Let
the wench clean up her own mess. She defied me, Brice. I want her
punished.”
“Leave us, Captain Oliver.” Brice was still
holding Alda to keep her from attacking Mirielle again. “This is
obviously a woman’s quarrel. I will see it settled.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Oliver gave Mirielle
a sympathetic look before he obeyed Brice’s order.
“Now, Alda,” Brice said, “what is the cause
of this disturbance?”
“Your cousin,” said Alda, still struggling
against Brice’s restraining hands, “your sweet Mirielle, has been
scheming with those two strangers to hand over Wroxley to them.
Hugh visits her here at night. I, myself, discovered her in the
crypt with Giles. What could two people be doing in such a place
but plotting?”
“Actually,” Mirielle broke into this
explanation, “at first Alda suggested a romantic reason for my
accidental encounter with Sir Giles. Brice, you must know these
accusations are not true. Please, order our guest released.”
Over Alda’s golden head Mirielle’s eyes met
those of her cousin. She saw that Brice did believe her, rather
than Alda. But in the next moment Mirielle also saw that Brice was
going to placate Alda. Brice was so convinced that his hopes for
future advancement lay with Alda and Wroxley Castle that, in order
to keep Alda’s favor, he was willing to abase himself and overlook
what had been done to the cousin he professed to love.
Mirielle watched Alda wriggling and squirming
in Brice’s tight hold. Alda’s hair began to work loose from its
pins and to fall about her face and shoulders. Alda was panting,
her breasts were heaving, she twisted and turned. Finally, Alda
kicked backward, striking Brice on the shin.
Shifting his hold on her, Brice caught a
thick lock of hair and used it to pull Alda’s face around to
his.
“Calm yourself,” he ordered, “and then I will
let you go. You cannot walk through the keep in this state. You
will only embarrass yourself.”
Alda went limp in his arms, as if all the
anger had gone out of her. She leaned against Brice.
“That’s better,” he said, his hand against
her cheek. “Alda, my dear, you must learn to control your
temper.”
Alda turned her face into Brice’s hand.
Opening her mouth she bit him hard. Brice’s howl of pain filled the
workroom, making Mirielle clap her hands over her ears.
With his free hand, Brice grabbed Alda by the
hair again, forcing her to open her teeth and release the hand on
which they were clenched. In another instant Brice had slung Alda
over his shoulder. She hung face down, kicking and yelling. He gave
her a hard smack on the buttocks.
“Oh, Brice, stop!” Mirielle cried.
“I will handle this.” Brice looked angry, but
in control of himself. “You know nothing about such things,
Mirielle. Alda is often beside herself with strong emotion. I know
how best to calm her.” Brice surveyed the destruction in the
workroom. “Call as many servants as you need to help you here.”
“She shall have no help at all,” Alda shouted
from her head-down position over Brice’s shoulder. “Let her get
onto her knees and scrub the floor herself.”
“Be quiet, Alda!” Another sharp smack to her
buttocks sent Alda into renewed kicking and complaining. Brice only
laughed, as if he were enjoying himself. “Don’t worry, Mirielle, I
will see to Alda.” He disappeared out the door, still carrying Alda
over one shoulder.
For the first few minutes after he had left,
the benumbed Mirielle could not move. After a while she groped for
the overturned bench, found it, and set it upright. By then she was
shaking so badly that she was forced to sit down on the bench.
There she remained, with her hands folded in her lap.
“Brice,” she whispered, “what is wrong with
you? Can’t you see that Alda is mad? What else can explain her
rages, her disregard for anyone else, or her petty cruelties? The
extravagant emotion she displays is not passion, it is madness, and
it is destructive. Here lies the evidence, in this room, yet you
imagine you can use her to gain your heart’s desire.”