“Erland bought Desmond?” Magnus stared at Royce, dumbfounded by what he had just heard. “Did you learn that last night while you were decoding Erland's notes? And you’ve neglected to say so until now?”
“I've known it all along,” Royce said. “The information was in a message Norbard sent to me months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me when you recruited me for this cursed mission?” Magnus demanded.
“We were afraid you'd be so angry that you'd kill Erland rather than bothering to bring him to England,” Royce said with infuriating coolness.
“Your lies are truly fascinating. But then, lies are to be expected of a secret agent, aren't they? You work by lies and concealment, and by sending men into danger ignorant of what they ought to know.” Magnus took a menacing step toward the man he had, until just a few moments ago, begun to think of as a friend. Despite his best effort he couldn’t hide his disappointment in Royce. “On that first day at Windsor, you said you were recruiting me because I have sense enough to use my wits and not resort to force. Be warned, my lord; that is not always true of me.”
“We decided that we didn't just want to exchange Erland for Desmond,” Royce said, still cool and smiling a little at Magnus's vehemence. “We wanted all the details of Erland's spying operation. He couldn't tell us anything if he was dead, or too badly injured to talk.”
“'We?'“ Magnus repeated, speaking through clenched teeth. “Meaning you and William and Braedon? Did they know how Erland bought Desmond – bought a knight as though he was a horse or a cloak – while all of you kept the information from me?”
“By 'we,' I mean King Henry and myself,” Royce said. “We agreed not to inform your comrades, either, out of concern that one of them would accidentally let the truth slip at an emotional moment.”
“On the surface,” Braedon said, “that decision does make sense. Still, Royce, I think you should have told Magnus. We are talking about his brother, after all.”
“Wait a moment!” Lilianne cried. Leaving her position by the windows, where she had been listening in silence, she moved toward Royce like a lion stalking its prey. With her eyes flashing violet fire, she rounded the long trestle table. “There is one minor detail that may not seem important to you, my lord, though it is of vital importance to me. You know where my brother is. You know from reading Erland's notes exactly what he has done with Gilbert. Tell me now, this very instant, or by heaven, I'll – I'll – oh, how I despise you!” Raising her fisted hands, she launched herself at Royce.
“Lilianne, stop!” Magnus caught her shoulders to prevent her from scratching Royce's face, which appeared to be her aim. “I will tell you as much as I know. But after Sir John's report, Royce and I need to speak with Erland.”
“You will not see him without me!” she declared. “Last night you promised I could be with you the next time you interrogate him. Besides, I no longer trust either of you to repeat honestly whatever Erland says to you.”
“I cannot blame you,” Magnus said, hoping his apparent composure would quiet her. In fact, he was no more calm than Lilianne was. If not for her presence, he'd have challenged Royce to combat over the lies the man had told and the facts he had deliberately not revealed. For Lilianne's sake, for her brother, and for Desmond's sake, too, Magnus bit back the furious words he longed to hurl at Royce and spoke, instead, with a reasonableness he did not feel. “Lilianne is right; we did promise. She must go with us to Erland's rooms.”
“Very well.”
Royce agreed quietly to Magnus's demand, though Magnus noted a spark of anger, or perhaps of excitement, in his eyes. Magnus began to suspect Royce of enjoying the clash of temperaments taking place in the solar. It occurred to him that Royce was likely glad of Lilianne's outburst, for she had deflected Magnus's rage. What Royce could not have understood was how Lilianne's distress had made Magnus more resolute, more determined to have full and honest answers to her questions, and to his own.
“William,” Braedon said suddenly, as if he'd only just remembered, “weren't you planning to take Lady Alice for a ride? And wasn't I supposed to go along as chaperone?”
“Perhaps I ought to stay here,” Alice began, looking doubtfully at Lilianne.
“William,” Lilianne said, “take her away from here for an hour or two.”
“I will, gladly.” William smiled at Alice. His smile broadened when Lilianne caught Alice's hand and placed it in his.
“Magnus can fill you in later on whatever occurs with Erland,” Royce said to Braedon as he began to follow the other two down the steps.
“Now, my lord,” Magnus said when only he and Lilianne remained in the solar with Royce, “what else do you know about Desmond's captivity that you haven't seen fit to reveal to the rest of us?”
“The king of the Scots sent two of his best agents to France to rescue Desmond,” Royce answered. “They were both murdered by Norbard, at Erland's command.”
“You knew this, and still you relied on Norbard for information?” Lilianne cried.
“Norbard was already in place, working for Erland, and he did have his uses,” Royce told her.
“You are disgusting!” she cried. “Your deceit and your coldness in the face of murder are appalling.”
“You are not the only person to think so,” Royce responded, apparently unmoved by her passion. Dismissing Lilianne with a shrug of his shoulders, he turned to Magnus. “Use your wits, man; they truly are the reason why I recruited you for this mission. Put together what I’ve told you so far, with the information gleaned from Erland's parchments, and what Sir John has just reported. What does all of this suggest to you?”
Magnus frowned, aware of Lilianne staring from Royce to him as if she could not fathom why any man would engage in the devious activities required by spying, or how two men who appeared to dislike each other could work in concert toward a common end.
As for what Royce had said, Magnus required only an instant to make the necessary connections. If he weren't so distracted by Lilianne's presence, he'd have reached the obvious conclusion much sooner.
“Since Erland bought Desmond, he must know where Desmond is being held,” Magnus said. “I'll wager Norbard knows, too. If I could find him, I'd make him speak. But we do have Erland, conveniently sitting in the west tower.”
“Precisely,” Royce said.
“You are using all of us,” Lilianne accused Royce. “Just as you have used Norbard in spite of knowing he's a murderer, just as you'd use Erland if he weren't too clever for you, so you are manipulating Magnus and me – and Alice and William and Braedon, too. You are moving all of us around on an invisible chessboard, as if we don't matter, as if we aren't human beings with souls and hearts. You are even using Magnus's brother, and mine, as pawns. But, to what end?”
“I obey King Henry's wishes,” Royce said.
“That's a paltry excuse! From what I've seen of you, Lord Royce, you follow your own wishes.”
“Never fault my loyalty to my king.” Royce's voice and the look in his eyes were so daunting that Lilianne fell silent.
“I suggest we visit Erland now,” Magnus said to Royce, “and that you allow Lilianne and me to question him, instead of doing it all yourself. Perhaps Erland's niece will get more out of him than you have. Lilianne seems to have the knack of irritating him. When men are angry they sometimes speak truths they'd never utter while in a calmer mood.”
“Indeed, they do,” Lilianne said in a voice drenched in sarcasm. “Though, if I am to drive Erland into forgetting his natural caution, I will require your assistance, Magnus. You are quite capable of reducing even God's own angels to a state of incipient violence.”
She was glorious in her passionate devotion to her brother and to the honesty that lay at the very heart of her being. For one moment of blinding desire Magnus contemplated grabbing her and slinging her over his shoulder, then carrying her off to her bedchamber, there to plunder the beautiful mouth she was twisting in derision. His longing for her was so nearly uncontrollable that he was forced to exert all of his considerable strength of will just to remain where he was, several paces away from her. He folded his arms across his chest to prevent his hands from reaching out to her of their own accord.
Lilianne's eyes blazed into his, challenging him with violet fire. Rather than let her know how aroused he was, Magnus responded by smiling at her as if he was amused by her fierceness.
“Do you want to see Erland at once?” Royce asked them with quiet amusement. “Or would you rather quarrel first?”
“Lead the way,” Lilianne commanded.
Magnus almost laughed out loud. Few people dared issue orders to Royce of Wortham, but Lilianne did it with a casual distain that lifted his spirits in spite of his worry for her sake, and for his brother's. Warning himself to restrain the desire that would interfere with his ability to think clearly, he followed Lilianne and Royce down the steps and across the great hall to the inner bailey.
* * * * *
Erland was housed in a small suite of rooms that were used for noble prisoners who required secure lodging. The few windows were mere arrow slits through which no one could possibly escape. The inner room, a bedchamber, was just large enough for a narrow bed and a stool. The main room contained a pair of wooden chairs, a table for eating, and a charcoal brazier for heat. Two of Royce's most trustworthy guards stood outside the door.
“I must protest yet again.” Erland began complaining the moment Royce appeared. “The conditions under which you are holding me are disgraceful. I deserve better treatment.”
“No doubt you house your nephew under similar conditions,” Royce said, stepping aside to let Lilianne and Magnus follow him through the door.
“My nephew's circumstances have nothing to do with the way you are abusing me,” Erland said. “I demand larger quarters, with at least two more braziers and tapestries on the walls. These rooms are drafty; I'm freezing. The food is repellant to a man of cultivated tastes and the wine is no better than vinegar. I ought not to be here at all. As a French nobleman, I insist upon the comforts to which I am entitled. And get that stupid girl out of here! I do not want to see her.” He ended his list of demands with a threatening look at Lilianne that would have sent a less courageous woman fleeing out the door.
“Royce,” Magnus said, once again crossing his arms over his chest, this time to keep himself from wrapping his hands around Erland's throat, “perhaps the moment has come for us to explain to Count Erland why he, of all King Louis's nobles, was chosen for abduction.”
“A fine idea,” Royce said jovially. The smile he cast upon Magnus and Lilianne offered no hint of the disagreements amongst them. “Count Erland, thanks to your henchman, Norbard, we are aware that you are one of King Louis's most important agents. But you already know about Norbard's greed and treachery, don't you?”
Erland said nothing, though he tensed. Magnus could not help admiring the way in which Royce was playing with the man, suggesting dire threats without actual, spoken intimidation, allowing Erland's imagination to do Royce's menacing work for him. Magnus listened with an impassive expression as Royce continued the game, lying through his teeth with his next remarks.
“You will remain here, confined to these rooms, until King Louis agrees to exchange you for a captured English agent,” Royce informed him with a sweet reasonableness that held just the faintest tinge of a sharp edge.
“What?” Erland appeared to be stunned by Royce's words. “That’s not what you’ve been telling me. I understood from the questions you've been asking that I was abducted because of my knowledge of King Louis's future intentions against the English.”
“I do assure you,” Royce went on, sounding more like a regretful host than a jailor, “better men than you have been housed here, some of them in greater comfort than you are presently enjoying. If you care to reveal what you know of King Louis's spying operations in England and Normandy, perhaps something more pleasant can be arranged for you. A warming tapestry for the wall, a pitcher of good wine with your dinner, an occasional hot bath to ease the itch of the flea bites, a change of clothing – you understand how the game is played.”
“An English agent, you said?” Erland assumed an innocent expression. “I know of no captured English agents. Who is the man?”
“Desmond of Ashendown,” Magnus said when Royce's glance and raised brows designated him the man to state what Erland already knew.
Erland's self-control was remarkable. He did not so much as flick his eyes in Magnus's direction. Instead, he stared at Royce for a long moment before he began to laugh.
“I don't see what's so funny,” Magnus said.
“No matter what you do, Lord Royce,” Erland gasped, wiping his streaming eyes, “no matter how many French agents you capture and offer in exchange, King Louis will never hand Desmond over to you. Indeed, he cannot.”
A terrible fear assailed Magnus. Surely, he'd know if Desmond was dead. He'd sense the loss of his twin in his very soul. And he’d stop having those disconcerting chills that warned of danger to Desmond.
“You must forgive my unseemly humor.” Howling with renewed laughter, Erland collapsed into a chair. “This is too funny. I cannot bear it.”
Lilianne had been standing near the door, watching the scene with a deepening frown. She chose this moment to step forward, brushing past Magnus to confront Erland, though she addressed her first remarks to Royce.
“My lord,” she said, “I thought we were here to speak to my villainous uncle about Gilbert.”
“Gilbert?” Erland sobered briefly, before he laughed again and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Oh, go away, you stupid wench. What has Gilbert to do with my present unhappy situation?”
“Count Erland.” Magnus unfolded his arms, allowing Erland to see how he was holding his large fists ready to strike. “You will speak to your niece with more respect.”
“Why should I?” Erland asked. “She betrayed me at Manoir Sainte Inge, when she showed you the way to my private room. For her disloyal act, she deserves no respect at all. Indeed, she deserves a severe punishment.”
“Think what you will of me, but Gilbert has never in his young life betrayed you,” Lilianne cried. “What have you done with him?”
“Surely, you don't expect me to tell you?” Erland said in a voice drenched with contempt. “Not after all this time. Desist, Lilianne. I have no intention of revealing Gilbert's present whereabouts to you.”
“You don't have to tell her where the boy is,” Royce said. “We already know.”
“Then, why ask me?” Erland sneered as he spoke, but Magnus thought he saw the beginning of fear in the man.
“What do you mean, you know?” Lilianne cried, turning her back on Erland to face Royce.
“Do you recall the parchments that Magnus took from Erland's desk?” Royce asked her.
Magnus noted how Erland went perfectly still when he heard the question. He also saw what Erland could not see, the odd look that Lilianne turned on Royce. Her startled expression suggested she couldn't believe what she was hearing, that she thought Royce didn't want Erland to know they had the documents. When Lilianne glanced at Magnus in perplexity, he chanced an almost imperceptible nod, hoping she'd understand that he didn't want to make Royce explain in front of Erland. She must have understood, for she followed his silent direction.
“Yes, Royce,” Lilianne said, a faint upward curve softening her lovely mouth. “I do remember how you said those documents might contain useful information. Was it about Gilbert?”
“So,” Erland muttered, “you have broken my code.”
“Lilianne, your brother is at Manoir Sainte Inge,” Magnus said.
“That cannot be!” she exclaimed. “I saw Erland and Norbard ride off, with Gilbert riding between them. I bid him farewell, and they escorted him away from the manor. When Alice and I cleaned Gilbert's room after he’d left, all of his belongings were gone.”
“Foolish female,” Erland said. “Like all of your sex, you cannot reason for yourself. You see only what men intend you to see.”
“Thanks to you, I am rapidly learning to see, and to think, for myself,” Lilianne snarled at him.
“Count Erland,” Royce said in a dangerously soft voice, “why don't you explain how you accomplished your clever trick, so Lilianne can understand.”
“Oh, why not?” Erland shrugged. “The truth can make no difference now. Gilbert must be dead by this time.”
Lilianne reeled, looking as if she would faint. Magnus caught her with an arm around her waist. She leaned against him, accepting his support, but she did not swoon or weep. She just stared at Erland with angry eyes.
“Tell us what you did to Gilbert,” she demanded, her voice remarkably steady.
“Late at night, after you and that ninny, Alice, were in your bedchambers and not likely to come out of them for fear of my men-at-arms,” Erland said, “I secretly returned to the manor and deposited Gilbert in the tower room above my private chamber. There he has been ever since. The poppy juice I gave him to keep him quiet during his homecoming wore off fairly soon, but by then he was securely locked away where no one could hear him call for help.”
“What of the times when you were gone from Manoir Sainte Inge?” Lilianne cried. “Who was caring for Gilbert then? I don't understand the purpose behind your deception.”
“Of course, you don't understand,” Erland said scornfully. “You are incapable of comprehending a well-thought-out scheme. I left a supply of food and water for Gilbert, because I thought it best to keep him alive for a time. I departed from the manor again before dawn and continued on my intended travels. While I was away I paid a discreet visit to King Louis, who confirmed my position as rightful heir to Gilbert's lands and title. After leaving the king, I spent a few informative days among the English at Calais, before returning to Manoir Sainte Inge.”
“You mean, you were spying on the English!” Lilianne cried.
“What of it?” Erland shrugged again. “I obey my king's commands.”
Lilianne caught her breath at the comment, so like Royce's earlier statement. Magnus tightened his arm around her waist, preparing for what was still to come.
“What Erland has just told you is undoubtedly true,” Royce informed her. “A short note on one of the parchments we deciphered confirms that Gilbert is locked in a tower room. Apparently, Erland has been personally providing food and water for the lad.”
“Why bother to feed him?” Magnus asked of Erland. “According to you, King Louis has made you Gilbert's legal heir. There’s no need to keep the boy alive any longer.”
“I thought it undiplomatic to let him die too soon after King Louis agreed to my petition,” Erland responded.
“Then, he's not dead,” Lilianne whispered.
Magnus could see the revival of her hope in the way she straightened against his encircling arm. But almost immediately she asked the question that had also occurred to him.
“Since you are not at Manoir Sainte Inge,” she said to Erland, “who has been feeding Gilbert in your absence?”
“No one,” Erland said with supreme indifference.
“Not Norbard?”
“Stupid girl, you forget that Norbard is still away from the manor,” Erland said. “Besides, no intelligent person would trust him with so important a secret.”
“Oh, dear heaven,” Lilianne whispered.
“Call on heaven if you wish,” Erland said. “Your pleas won't alter the fact that your betrayal of me doomed your brother. I hadn't yet taken Gilbert's food to him on the night when your friends abducted me from Manoir Sainte Inge. If I have reckoned the time correctly, that was eight days ago. Gilbert's supply of water may have lasted for another few days, but he is certainly dead by now. Which means that, in addition to being Count of Morvan, I am also Lord of Sainte Inge. I do thank you for your help, Lilianne.”
Magnus expected Lilianne to sag against him in despair over her brother's fate. He should have known better. She wrenched herself away from his supporting arm to fling herself at Erland. Seeing her coming, Erland leapt from his chair, putting it and the table between them.
“You are an evil, greedy man!” Lilianne shouted. “Gilbert's death was your doing, not mine!”
“Think what you will. The boy would never have made a warrior.” Erland sounded as if he was explaining a simple lesson to a particularly dense student. “Nor could he have grown into a strong lord for Manoir Sainte Inge. He simply was not tough enough. Eventually, you will understand that it was better this way, better by far for me to hold your late father's lands in my own firm grasp.”
“Gilbert was my little brother!” she screamed. “I know how you killed my father, too! What kind of monster are you, to murder your blood kin?”
“No monster,” Erland said calmly, “just a very clever man, who has outwitted your English friends.”
“I suppose you cleverly stole Lilianne's dowry too?” Magnus asked, wanting the details of Erland's crimes against his family to be spoken aloud before witnesses.
“Of course. A woman without a dowry is beholden to her male relatives,” Erland said. “In time, she will learn to obey me. I am, after all, her only hope of escaping life in a convent.”
“I'll die before I ever obey you!” Lilianne cried.
“As you wish,” said Erland. “I have no objection to killing you, too.”
“But you won't kill her,” Royce said. “So long as Lilianne does not return to France, there is no practical purpose in killing her, no benefit to you in her death. And you are, above all, a practical man, are you not, Count Erland?”
“If I ever see you again,” Lilianne said to Erland, “I will come to you with a sword in my hand. And, by heaven, I will use it.” She whirled, her skirts flaring out around her ankles, and left the room.
Magnus needed every bit of self-discipline he possessed to make himself remain where he was instead of rushing after her as he longed to do. He told himself Lilianne would likely prefer some privacy as she gave way to grief; but then, cursing himself for a coward and a fool, he took a step toward the door. Royce’s voice halted him, reminding him of the debt he owed to his own brother.
“Well, now that we have learned what happened to Gilbert,” Royce said to Erland, “will you tell us where Sir Desmond is?”
“I know nothing of your spy,” Erland responded with aristocratic indifference. “It would seem I am of no use to you at all, Lord Royce. What a pity you wasted so much time and money sending your men to seize me.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” Royce said, regarding him with an inscrutable expression. “Then again, perhaps a bit of judiciously applied pain will restore your memory in regard to Sir Desmond.”
“You are welcome to try.” Erland went rather pale at the thinly veiled threat of torture, but otherwise he seemed resolute.
“I will think on the many possibilities,” Royce said, smiling sweetly at his prisoner. “So will you, I am sure.”
“I have a request to make of you,” Erland said, somewhat uneasily. “As one nobleman to another, you understand.”
“Indeed? You surprise me. I did not expect you to make polite requests. Angry demands, yes, but not requests.” Royce waited for Erland’s next words.
“Were you in my position, you'd raise the same issue,” Erland said. Taking a deep breath, he went on, looking just a little embarrassed. “I’ve not had a woman for more than two weeks and I am growing uncomfortable. Send the castle whore to me. I'll not occupy her for long.”
“What do you think, Magnus?” Royce asked. “Shall I grant his request?”
“Does he really want a woman?” Magnus wondered, dragging his thoughts away from Lilianne. “Or is he seeking a means of sending a message out of Richton? I've heard of whores being used to carry letters, as well as for their usual purpose.”
“I give you my word of honor,” Erland began.
“You have no honor,” Magnus told him with a quietness that did not mask his rage at so cold-blooded a man. “If you need such comfort, then comfort yourself.”
The tightening of Erland's mouth, the sudden blaze of his eyes, could have been anger at the insult to his noble honor, or outrage at Magnus's crude suggestion, or just the frustration of his sexual need. Whatever Erland's true feelings, Magnus knew he had scored an important point against the man, who obviously liked to imagine himself in control of every situation. Magnus also knew he had made an enemy who would not soon forget what had been said in the tower room.
“Come along, Magnus.” Royce strode to the door. Magnus followed him. Neither man bothered to look back at Erland.
In the bailey again, Magnus swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. Royce, apparently lost in thought, was scanning the sky above the castle walls as if he expected to find there the answers he had sought from Erland.
“Will you resort to torture?” Magnus asked him.
“You’ve heard my opinion of torture,” Royce said. “Extreme pain seldom produces a truthful response.”
“I thought you were lying about that for Lilianne's sake.”
“I was not lying.”
“I no longer trust anything you say, Royce.”
“I know. I'm sorry for that, but it can’t be helped. I've grown used to people not trusting or believing me. You may trust this, however: I am dedicated to securing your brother's release, not because I care about Desmond, whom I consider a hot-headed fool, but because King Henry wants him freed.”
“That's all very well, but how are we to find Desmond, if King Louis claims to know nothing about him and we cannot get anything out of Erland?” Magnus asked.
“The original message concerning Desmond was sent to King Henry through a secret channel.” Royce sounded as if he was musing to himself. “I have my private suspicions about the origin of this affair, but I prefer to discuss them with King Henry before I make any decision as to what our next steps should be.”
“The king is presently in Normandy.”
“Which is why I shall depart for Normandy this afternoon.”
“What, now?” Magnus exclaimed. “Do you expect William and Braedon and me to go with you?”
“No. I want all of you to stay here at Richton. I’ll ride to Pevensey and take ship from there; it's a shorter crossing than from Hythe or Dover, and from the looks of the sky, the weather is about to turn stormy. I don't intend to be lost at sea.”
“I thought you'd prefer to use Captain Piers.” Magnus did his best to sound casual because he had just conjured up an idea of his own, one that would require the services of Captain Piers and his ship.
“As a nobleman attending the court of his liege lord, I will travel in official state, on a royal ship,” Royce said. “The Daisy isn’t grand enough for the impression I wish to make. My grandeur will be calculated to forestall any questions a bout my true purpose in Normandy. No one at court will be surprised when the king grants me a prompt interview. “
“You’ll be gone for some time, then?” Magnus asked. “For several weeks, at least? While I, and the others, sit here idly.”
“I expect you to await my return with as much patience as you can muster,” Royce said sternly.
“Do you expect Desmond to be patient, too?”
“I’ve told you, I intend to see Desmond freed. While I am away, you have my permission to question Erland as often as you like. I doubt if he will allow any important facts to slip, but every man does have his weaknesses. Do not permit him access to any of the castle whores. I think you are right about his request; he’s hoping to find a way to send a message to his fellow spies. Oh, and do please take care that Lilianne doesn't kill him before I return.”
Having issued his instructions, Royce headed for the keep, leaving Magnus to wonder if King Henry's spymaster possessed any weaknesses at all.