The Whispering Night (20 page)

“Richard,” she murmured.

“What about him?”

She lifted her
shoulders, weakly. “I was simply thinking that all of the talk that you were in
the Holy Land with the king was a lie.”

“For necessity’s sake,
it was.”

“And your father; was he
in on the deception?”

“It was difficult for
him to be less than truthful with his friend, your father, but he was indeed a
part of the deception for my sake. It was by sheer coincidence that my father
and your father knew each other.”

“Then I suppose I should
be angry about all of this.”

“I would not fault you
if you were.”

Her expression grew
thoughtful as she tried to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “And Fergus?
Does he work for the Marshall, too?”

“No. He has no knowledge
of the truth of my vocation and I prefer to keep it that way.”

She looked at him, his
strong face and beautiful eyes.  After a moment, she simply shook her head. “It
is my opinion that politics are a deadly game and something I have no use for,
and it does not please me that you are involved in such intrigue. But I
understand that you must do as you must.” She smiled, timidly. “Perhaps I am a
stupid woman and simply cannot see past my emotions, but I cannot hate you for
this.”

It was more than he had
hoped for. With a sigh of relief, he kissed her deeply. “I am so sorry I lied
to you in the vault,” he murmured against her lips. “I did not want to, but I
saw no other way at the time. Your father was prepared to hang me.”

“I do not care about any
of that,” she whispered. “All that matters is that you are truthful with me now
and will forever be so.  Promise me, Garren.”

“I swear it.”

They held each other,
tightly, and Garren thanked God for the sense to marry this amazing woman.  He
settled back on the bed with her clutched against his chest, thinking about
nothing in particular beyond what had just occurred. He knew there would be
other nights like this one, coming up against people who wanted to see him come
to harm. He was glad Derica knew the truth, and tremendously glad for her
strength. He knew he would need it in times to come.

“Garren?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Does the Marshall know
what’s happened? With me, I mean.”

“No.”

“You must tell him.”

“I will as soon as I am
able. But my greater concern right now is getting us to a safe haven.”

Derica sat up, looking
at him. She suddenly looked like a child, small and vulnerable. “I am afraid,”
she said. “What will happen if…?”

He put his fingers on
her lips. “Hush, now,” he murmured. “No fears. The Marshall will be sated and
your family will eventually come to terms. Everything will turn out fine, given
time. We simply need to let the situation cool a bit.”

Derica lay back down
against his warm, comforting chest. She didn’t want to voice her doubts. Though
she heard his words, she wasn’t sure she agreed.

CHAPTER TEN

“I shall not ask again.”

He’d been burned,
beaten, poked, slapped and moderately cut. Tied to a gnarled oak tree somewhere
south of where the de Rosa’s had caught up to him, Fergus hadn’t yet become
impatient with the situation.  For the moment, he was tolerant. Bertram de Rosa
was missing his daughter and he was understandably brittle.  Besides, Fergus
had suffered worse wounds at the hands of scorned women.  Most of what he’d
received thus far had been child’s play.

“If I have told you
once, I have told you a thousand times,” Fergus said patiently. “I know nothing
of your daughter’s disappearance. I am a bachelor knight in the current service
of Somerset. I was attempting to return home when you and your brigands
ambushed me.”

“You are a liar,” Donat
snarled in his face; the middle de Rosa brother had inflicted most of the
torture. “We know you were at Framlingham. We found your handcart by the side
of the road and followed your tracks.”

“I have no knowledge of
any handcart, though I was in the vicinity of Framlingham. I have friends in
Saxmundham and was passing through. That is why you found my tracks.”

“Liar! What did you do
with her?”

“I have done nothing.”

“If she is lying dead
somewhere in a ditch, you will curse the day you were born. I swear it on God’s
Holy name.”

“If she is lying dead
somewhere, it is not by my hand.”

Donat shoved his fist
into Fergus’ stomach once again. It was the latest blow in a long line of many.
Fergus coughed in pain, trying to convince himself it wasn’t so bad. He’d felt
worse. But when a strike came to his face, he saw stars and thought, perhaps,
that it was indeed bad.

 Bertram stood with Lon
and Alger, watching Donat beat their prisoner senseless.  Dixon helped his
brother now and again by thumping the captive on the head when he was
particularly uncooperative. Only Daniel stood off by himself, watching the
beating without emotion.  He had tried to intervene once to suggest reasoning
was a better method of interrogation, but he had been ignored. Now he said
nothing. If his brothers beat their only suspect into oblivion, then they would
never get any information out of him.  Their brutal methods would cause their
failure.

Bertram was already
feeling failure. Five days without Derica suggested that the trail was growing
cold.  He suspected that le Mon had everything to do with her disappearance.
When they had asked their captive about le Mon, they had received nothing by
way of answer. It was becoming a maddening game. Watching his son split the
prisoner’s lip, he turned to his brothers.

“I wish we had Hoyt with
us,” he muttered. “He had a knack of being able to gain any information he
wished.”

“That is because he used
methods that Donat has yet to aspire to,” Lon said. “A hot poker up the arse
has a way of making a man talk.”

Bertram grunted. “Aye,
but my sons still feel that beating a man is the only way. Pure strength.”

“They’re young. They
will learn.”

“Learn indeed. But they
will not learn from the best.”

Bertram had flashes of
his larger brother in times past, pouring scalding water on a man’s eyeballs in
order to gain vital information.  Before the blow to his head, Hoyt invented
new ways of creating pain to all those who opposed the de Rosa will.  Bertram
found himself cursing that day when Hoyt took a blow so hard in the tourney
that his helm had to be pried from his head. He was never the same after that.
He could have used the old Hoyt now, very much.

“If they want to learn
how to dress and fold laundry, Hoyt can teach them very well,” Alger mumbled.

Bertram sighed. “I had
hopes when he chose to ride from Framlingham in search of Derica, in the manner
of days of old. But the moment we tracked down this thief, he disappeared without
the stomach for doing what needs to be done.”

“Where do you suppose he
went?”

“Who can say? To the
nearest town to buy fabric, or perhaps he went home. I do not know. I am coming
not to care any longer.”

The senior de Rosa
brothers nodded in silent agreement. The continued to observe as Donat pummeled
the hostage. It was having no effect. Finally, Bertram himself moved forward. 
He was tired of waiting. Grabbing his captive by the hair, he looked into the
swollen blue eyes.

“I shall make this
brief,” he said. “If I do not receive the answers I seek, then I will allow my
son to do whatever he wishes to you. Keep in mind that he young, lacks
discipline, and had a fondness for creating as much pain as he can. With that
said, I will make you a proposition; whatever le Mon has promised to pay you, I
will double it if you tell me where my daughter is.”         

Fergus didn’t reply; he
continued to stare at him.  Bertram’s attempt at good will was fading.  “Have
you no answer for me?” he pressed.

Fergus didn’t say a word,
and it was clear that he was not going to.  Bertram let go of his hair and
turned towards the men.

“Lon, Alger, backtrack
his trail and leave no stone unturned,” he snapped. “If there is a house,
search it. If there is a town, raid it. Take enough men-at-arms with you to
satisfy that.”

The uncles moved for
their horses, shouting to the company of soldiers that had accompanied them. 
Ten were singled out for the hunt. Bertram turned back to his sons.

“Daniel,” he addressed
his eldest. “Go back to Framlingham. Mobilize two hundred men and prepare them
for a march to Chateroy Castle. We are going to pay my old friend a visit and
see if he knows the whereabouts of his son.”

Daniel didn’t say a word
as he turned for his horse. Bertram watched him a moment, wondering if he would
actually do as he was bade. The man was the least violent of the de Rosas and
the most likely to disobey his father in that regard. When Daniel rode off,
Bertram turned to Donat and Dixon.

“As for this one,” he
tilted his head in Fergus’ direction. “Do what you must to wrangle information
from him. But be mindful that he is our only link to your sister.”

For the first time,
Fergus felt a distinct sense of despair as he watched Bertram de Rosa walk
away. He knew that the old man had been the only thing stopping the sons from
unleashing on him.  He glanced at the two de Rosa brothers; they stared back
with the eyes of something without a soul. In that moment, Fergus knew that he
was in a good deal of trouble.

***

It was a cold, misty morning. 
Garren had awakened before Derica and had built a fire to warm the freezing
room, but it hadn’t been nearly warm enough by the time she rose. Hissing with
chill, she went in search of her clothing.  With the coverlet wrapped around
her, she looked like a giant baby in too much swaddling. Garren grinned as she
banged about, pulling out the pretty blue lamb’s wool gown that the sisters had
given her. It was very warm, something she desperately needed at the moment.

“Cold, is it?” he
quipped.

She groaned, trying to
hold the dress with one hand and keep the coverlet about her with the other. 
Garren took mercy on her.

“Let me help you,” he
said. “I shall hold the coverlet and you hold the dress.”

Derica’s teeth were
chattering. Garren took hold of the coverlet, pulling it back just enough to
get a peek at her nude body as she fumbled with the gown. It was too much for
him to take.

“I know how to warm you,
and quickly,” he said softly.

She was having a hard
time manipulating the dress with her quaking hands. “H-how?”

He dropped the coverlet
entirely and put his arms around her. She squealed as he pulled her down on the
bed, but quickly succumbed to his heated kisses.  He explored her with his
burning hands, stroking her nipples that were hard from both his touch and the
chill.  His body was big and warm, enveloping her.  Derica surrendered to him,
each sensation new and wonderful.  He seemed to take delight in stroking her
inner thighs, feeling her quiver and laughing softly when she did so.  When he
finally took her, it was tenderly and far more slowly than it had been the
previous night.  Now, he could be patient and experience everything he had been
too crazed to experience their first time. In reflection, he had been selfish.
He would not be selfish now.

For Derica, it was as if
they had been making love for a sweet eternity, yet it still wasn’t long
enough. When the rapturous spasms overtook her body once again, she was
disappointed and elated at the same time. Garren’s rapture came shortly
thereafter, and they lay entangled in sweat and glory in a world where time had
no meaning. They were only aware of each other and their bliss.  But, as it did
so often in their world, reality settled as the day grew light around them.

“Are you hungry?” Garren
kissed her temple.

Derica yawned, snuggling
against him. “Always.”

He kissed her again.
“Then let us break our fast and depart. As much as I would love to languish
with you all day in bed, I am afraid we cannot spare the time.”

They dressed in warm
silence.  The lamb’s wool gown was absolutely stunning on Derica’s figure.  The
nuns had even managed to stir up a pair of warm hose for her, which she gladly
put on even though they were a bit too small. She braided her hair, smiling
shyly when she caught her husband staring at her.  By the time she pulled on
her soft slippers and swung the cloak over her shoulders, Garren had everything
packed and waiting for her.

There were bodies
sleeping in the tavern below, strewn about the floor and tables.  It smelled of
smoke and urine.  Derica wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell as Garren sent
a servant to bring about his charger and procured a hunk of bread from the
serving woman.  He handed the food to his wife, who promptly tore off a piece
of the bread and chewed happily.  Garren wondered aloud if there would be
anything left for him to eat and she shook her head playfully.