Hellion (36 page)

“Come,” Lind said, as if sensing her mood. “Let us get some rest,
little brother
. It has been a long day for us all.”

She followed him from the Great Hall, but even as she did, once again she felt eyes upon her. Unable to contain her curiosity this time, she turned her head to see Vivienne d’ Bretagne’s other male companion staring at her. “Who is that looking at us?” she asked Alain.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “It is her brother, Guy d’ Bretagne. Why?”

“He has been staring at us,” Belle responded. “Why is La Citadelle not his? He appears slightly older than she does.”

Alain shook his head. “I do not know. The castle belonged to their mother. It has always belonged to a woman. They are a race of sorceresses and sorcerers. Come, do not look back at him. He is very wicked, and has taken both boys and girls to his bed, or so I am told. You do not want him intrigued by you, lady.”

“No,” Isabelle agreed. “I do not.”

Together they left the hall.

Chapter 13

A
lain was surprised at first, and then quite pleased by Isabelle’s skill as a falconer. “You’ve taught her well, Lind,” he praised his old friend. “I’m going to leave the merlins and the sparrow hawks to her. She’s as competent as any I’ve known.” He watched as the young woman brought her charges out to weather upon their stone block. The birds were all caught wild as nestlings, and not as easy to manage as Couper had been, but Isabelle acquitted herself admirably.

“She’s got a touch with the birds the same way he always did,” Lind said. “It’s not me that taught her, ’tis Lord Hugh. What’s happened to him, Alain? He ain’t the same man we knew as our master.”

“We came from Duke Robert’s court to Manneville,” Alain began. “At first all was well. Lord Hugh strove hard to overcome the sieur’s bad temper, and his lady wife was most kind. The sieur, however, could not get it out of his head that Lord Hugh had stolen Langston from him. One night he drugged Lord Hugh’s wine and had us all thrown into the dungeon. When Lord Hugh stirred before they imprisoned him, that Luc de Sai hit him a fierce blow on the head. I feared he’d killed him. There is a cage behind the barrels of wine. There we languished for several days without food, and precious little water. When Lord Hugh finally awoke, he began to rage over what he called his own stupidity in trusting Richard de Manneville. He shouted, and he cursed our jailor, until he could no
longer speak. Luc de Sai came and struck him again to quiet him. After that he wasn’t the same, and didn’t know any of us.

“Then
she
came. We gaped like village idiots, Lind, for we had never seen anything so beautiful as her. The sieur said that if she wanted him, she could have him, but she had to take us all. She laughed and agreed. She came near our cage and smiled at Lord Hugh. Their eyes met, and it was as if he could not break the gaze. He followed her like a wee lamb to the slaughter, and we after him, glad to be free of Manneville. After we got here, the Langston men were told they had a choice. Swear their loyalty to her, or die. She had me stay by his side while she nursed Lord Hugh back to health again. I was there when she mixed her potions, and fed them to him. Eventually his voice returned, but it was now harsh and unlike his old voice. He seems to have forgotten absolutely everything about his past life but the birds, which is why I was set to catching them and raiding nests last spring. She wants him happy, Lind, for she has fallen in love with him.”

“Does she continue to feed him her potions?” Belle asked, and they realized she had been listening all the time.

“I do not know, my lady,” Alain said. “Once I was set to the task of the birds, another took my place serving my lord Hugh.”

“We must find out!” Belle said. “If she needs this particular magic to keep him in her thrall, if we could prevent her from giving him the potions, then we might be able to restore his memory and free him.”

“But how?” the two falconers asked in unison.

Isabelle shook her head. “I do not yet know,” she said.

“Perhaps we should leave La Citadelle and take our evidence before Duke Robert,” Lind suggested reasonably.

“It is too late! You have agreed to enter her service,” Alain said. “There is no escape for you now. I warned you to flee that first day you came, but you would not heed me. It is not as if you were a pair of scullery boys running away. Scullery boys are easily replaced, and she would not care; but you are falconers.
She needs you. You are now as trapped as we all are. May God have mercy on us!”

“No, I will not accept it,” Isabelle said resolutely. “There must be a way to help Hugh, and I will find it, I promise you. Then we will go home to Langston!”

Their lives took on an almost strange monotony. They arose early each morning, breakfasted, and spent their day attending to the birds. Another meal was served at four o’clock in the afternoon, and then Isabelle would slip from the hall, which she found too rough for her taste, and retreat to her loft. She longed for a hot bath. Her ablutions were scant, and the water always cold. The scissors she carried with her kept her hair trimmed short. Her supply of walnut dye would keep her hair dark through the next few months, if they were forced to remain here.

She wondered about her son. Was he well? How he must be growing. In just a few months he would be two years old. He would have forgotten both his parents, of course, but she took comfort in the fact that her mother and Rolf would be loving and kind to Hugh the Younger. Isabelle sighed. What if she never saw her child again? The thought brought her to tears. She had yet to find a way around their dilemma. She could not spend the rest of her life pretending to be a boy! She hated this unnatural life she was living now, and she was condemned to it unless she could find a way to release her husband from Vivienne d’ Bretagne’s powerful spell.

Several days later they accompanied the mistress of La Citadelle, her lover, and her brother on a hunt. They had been directed to bring along several of the birds, although they would be hunting deer in the morning. Belle had brought Couper and a particularly clever sparrow hawk she had been training. Alain and Lind had a gyrfalcon and a peregrine. The huntsman and his assistant had stalked their quarry, a fine stag, earlier that morning with the dogs and their handlers.

“He’s a grand big fellow, lady,” Simon told his mistress. He
spread his thumb and his forefinger. “His tracks are this big. The scratches where he rubbed his antlers on a tree were this high.” He again used his hand to demonstrate, and then he held out his hunting horn. “Here’s a sample of his fumes.”

Vivienne d’ Bretagne looked at the size of the droppings in the huntsman’s horn. “You are right, Simon. He is a big one. I will have him before the day is out. Let us loose the dogs.”

The huntsman bowed as his mistress raised her own ivory hunting horn to her lips, blowing a series of short notes. This was the signal for the greyhounds to be unleashed. Made familiar with the stag’s spore, they dashed into the forest, baying wildly, the hunters coming behind them on their horses.

The falconers did not keep abreast of the hunters, for the pace was too quick for their birds. Instead they followed along at their own pace, always listening for the sound of the hunting horns and the baying of the dogs ahead of them. The chase would continue until they either killed the stag or it managed to elude them.

The falconers came upon the hunters again even as the dogs brought the stag to bay. It was a magnificent russet-colored creature with a full set of antlers. Simon, the head huntsman, offered up the lance to his mistress. Violet eyes glittering, Vivienne d’ Bretagne slipped from her black mare and took the lance. She advanced upon the stag, moving through the pack of dogs fearlessly. With a swift thrust she killed the beast. Belle turned her head before the deed was done, unwilling to see such a brave and beautiful creature slaughtered.

“I am ravenous, my darling,” she heard Vivienne d’ Bretagne say gaily. “Let us picnic here in this glade while the deer is skinned and the meat divided up. Let the hounds share its skin, Simon. They have done well this day.” She turned to her two companions. “Have you had your fill of hunting, my darlings, or shall we seek some ducks with the birds this afternoon? The marshes nearby are full of them.”

“Whatever would please you, dear sister,” Guy d’ Bretagne
said. It was the first time Belle had been near enough to him to hear his voice. It was a deep, rich, almost musical one.

“ ’Tis a good day to try the birds,” Hugh agreed in his harsh voice. “Let us see if these new falconers are worth their keep,
mon amour
, or if they are to be hung in the hall and whipped.”

Isabelle shivered beneath her cote. Hugh sounded as if he would enjoy whipping them. Oh, dear God, she silently prayed, help me to find a way to save my husband! Lind and Alain brought her some bread and cheese, but she could not eat. What if the birds did not perform to their best potential? Heaven forfend!

When the meal was done, the huntsmen and their dogs led the way to the nearby marshes, which were filled with waterfowl. The deer meat was carried back to La Citadelle by a train of servants. The dogs were let loose to flush the ducks from their hiding places within the reeds. Lind allowed the peregrine he had brought to circle about his head. When at last the dogs raised several ducks, the peregrine swooped down with quick success, then stood patiently by her kill. Belle then released Couper, who was equally facile in her duty.

“Well,
mon amour
,” Vivienne d’ Bretagne said to Hugh, “are these falconers worthy of my service?”

“Aye,” he said. “They are.”

She laughed. “How perfect this life is that we share,” she said smugly. “Come, let us return to the castle. The sunlight is fading, and we shall have both venison and duck for supper!”

“The venison needs to be hung,” Hugh told her.

“Just a taste,” his mistress replied. “I like my meat fresh-killed,
mon amour
, as you should well know by now.”

While they had been speaking, Isabelle had dismounted Gris and gathered up the two birds. She lashed them together by the feet and flung them across the pommel of her saddle. Mounting her horse again, she called to Couper to come. The merlin landed upon her gloved fist. She swiftly hooded her, and gathering the jesses, drew them tight. Lind had hooded the peregrine, and in Alain’s company they returned to La Citadelle.
Belle took the ducks to the kitchen, offering to pluck them in exchange for a bucket of hot water.

The head cook agreed. It was a small enough price to pay, as he was going to be hard-pressed to get those two damned ducks roasted in time for the evening meal. It never occurred to him to ask what the young falconer wanted with a bucket of hot water. He had other, far more important duties to attend to. He didn’t intend providing an evening’s entertainment on the whipping rings by displeasing the lady with a late, badly cooked meal.

Isabelle carried her precious bucket of hot water from the kitchens, across the courtyard, and into the hay barn. She moved slowly so as not to spill a single drop. “Find me some kind of tub to bathe in,” she told Lind and Alain as she entered the barn. “And fetch me two more buckets of water from the well. I am going to have a bath, my lads!”

“Is it safe, my lady, for you to do such a thing?” Alain fretted, always cautious.

“Who comes to this barn but us?” she asked him. “Besides, if you are worried, then you and Lind watch the courtyard from the loft while I bathe. If you see anyone coming this way, I will have time to get out and hide. Do you know how long it has been since I had a proper bath? I cannot bear it another minute! The dirtier I get, the better the fleas like me.”

“There’s a small wooden washtub in the laundry,” Lind said. “I’ve become friendly with one of the young laundresses. She’ll loan it to me if I ask, and not wonder why if I give her a kiss or two.”

“I’ll fetch you another bucket of water,” Alain said.

The two men hurried off. Belle could scarcely contain herself. She was to have a bath! Tentatively, she dipped her finger in the hot water, yanking it back almost immediately, for it was yet scalding. Oh, it was going to feel so good! How did the lower classes manage to live their whole lives without regular hot baths? She clambered up into the loft, and rummaging among her things, drew forth a tiny cake of soap. Then hearing
the barn doors open, she scrambled back down eagerly. Turning from the ladder, however, she was startled to see Guy d’ Bretagne.

“My lord!” Did her Lang voice squeak?

His deep violet-colored eyes gazed down at her for a long moment from his great height. He had to top Hugh by at least three inches. “Who are you?” he finally demanded.

“
My lord
?” What on earth did he mean? He couldn’t know she was a woman, or could he?

“I have watched you ever since you arrived,” Guy d’ Bretagne said in his deep voice. “You play your role very well, my dear. There have even been times when I thought I might be imagining it; but today when you turned away at the kill, I knew I was right. You are a female. Now, tell me who you are, and why you have perpetrated this masquerade? Your sex will not protect you from my sister’s wrath.”