Chapter 3

 

Alexia slipped through the back door of the kitchen, basket of herbs in hand so as not to attract attention. Though her position in Luxley castle was minstrel for Lady D’Clere, she oft assisted with the gardening as well, in particular harvesting the herbs she loved so much. The room was abuzz with activity—pantlers, butlers, butchers, cooks, dishwashers and maids dashed to and fro or worked before tables laden with all manner of food. The kitchen clerk shouted orders above the din. Pots and kettles steamed atop flames that crackled and spit from a fireplace that took up an entire stone wall.

Alas, the King’s Guard had arrived, ’twould seem.

She was greeted by two scullery maids as she made her way through the kitchen and the pantry to the grand hall and scanned the room for her friend and confidant. With the arrival of guests, Anabelle would most likely be following Sir LeGode about as he spouted orders.

Alexia drew in a deep breath and attempted to settle nerves that always tangled into knots when she entered the castle.

You cannot discern the spirits when fear invades, the friar always told her. ’Twas true enough, but she had yet to learn how to control her rampant emotions.

There. Anabelle hurried down the grand stairs from above, a train of servants in her wake.

“Anabelle!” Alexia half-whispered, half-shouted, and upon gaining her attention, motioned her over.

Halting, the young lady gave instructions to the servants, which sent them scurrying off before she hastened to Alexia’s side.

“Mistress Bregley, I didn’t expect you till the morrow.”

“Indeed, but I heard you have visitors from the king.”

Sweeping blond hair from her face, Anabelle bit her lip. “The Bishop of Montruse requests an audience with Lady D’Clere.”

“Montruse?” Alarm prickled Alexia. “The king’s special confidant. Whatever does he want?”

“I know not, mistress. They will meet with Sir LeGode after the evening meal.”

LeGode’s harried shout blared from his study across the main hall, jarring Anabelle, who glanced his way.

Alexia gripped her friend’s arm. “Then you must find out for me, Anabelle. Please say you will.”

“I will try, mistress.” Though Alexia detected a quiver running through her, determination shone from her eyes. Brave girl.

“How fares Lady D’Clere?”

“Worse today. Mayhap you could bring her some comfort.”

Fear gnawed Alexia’s gut as she smiled at her friend and headed up the winding stairs of the keep to Lady D’Clere’s chamber. Creeping inside, she cringed at the creak of the door and set her herbs on the table, suddenly struck by the putrid order of illness, tallow, and smoke.

Something moved near the upper corner of the arched ceiling—a darkness, a shadow that disappeared before she had a chance to close her eyes and examine it. She had no need. She could sense what it was. If only she’d brought the Spear. A quick scan of the room revealed other shadows—fleeting, dark mists that shrank back and finally retreated. With their exit, the light from candles positioned about the chamber brightened, revealing two carved chests, tables and chairs set before a hearth, and the large curtained bed on the right.

Seraphina rose from her spot beside the bed, giving Alexia a curious look. “What is amiss, my lady?”

“Naught.” Alexia approached. “How is she?”

“She sleeps now, but she has been restless all day.” Seraphina glanced around as if noticing the brightness in the chamber. “I always feel better when you are here, my lady.”

“Do not address me as ‘my lady,’ Seraphina. Remember, my life depends on your discretion.”

“Yes, of course. Forgive me.”

Alexia stared down at the figure sleeping behind the gauze curtains. “I thank you nonetheless for your kindness to her.”

Seraphina adjusted her plain woolen kirtle that did naught to hide her feminine curves nor diminish the beauty of her hair, the color of snow, tumbling down to her waist. “I am but her lady’s maid and cannot offer much aid.”

“You remain by her side day and night in my stead. Truly, I deem your kindness of no small account. And God’s truth, you are so much more than a lady’s maid. You are my friend.” Alexia placed a hand on Seraphina’s arm and smiled before she returned her gaze to the bed. “Night horrors?”

“Aye, they grow worse. She wakes up screaming things no lady should say.”

Swallowing a lump of dread, Alexis swept aside the curtains and cringed at her sister’s pale face. She took her limp hand in hers. “Her skin is hot. What of the apothecary? Has he brought medicines?”

“Yes, every day, mil—mistress.”

“And Sir LeGode? What does he say?”

“He is worried…or so he appears. He has ordered the apothecary to administer new herbs.”

Alexia glanced at Seraphina. “And yet a hesitancy simmers in your voice.”

“As you know, mistress, I am not sure I trust him.”

“’Tis but that crooked smile of his.” Alexia shrugged. “Never fear. Sir LeGode was best friend to my father and mother. Faith now, he saved my father’s life in the battle of Nain. And when Father died, he brought great comfort to my mother. Then, of course, he was here with us all when she herself passed away.”

Alexia closed her eyes, forcing back the horror of that day, yet the wound still festered in her heart. “Mother wouldn’t have handed the care of the manor over to him, made him steward because my sister and I were still too young, if she did not trust him implicitly. He has been a great overseer and done well here.”

“Aye, mistress, quite well. For Luxley. And for himself.”

Alexia frowned. “He has his own estate just ten miles hence. What need has he to manage ours? Surely it must be more burden than blessing.” Alexia kissed her sister’s hand. “Cristiana is lady of the manor and whoe’er she weds will be lord. What purpose would Sir LeGode have for staying here, save loyalty to my family?”

Seraphina flattened her lips. “Then why have you not revealed to him your true identity? If he is so dear and trusted a friend, mayhap he could assist you in laying bare the plot to end your life.”

“’Tis my utmost desire, yet the friar has convinced me to wait. The truth would only endanger LeGode’s life, as it also endangers yours.” Alexia gazed up at her friend. “For which I am deeply sorry.”

“No need.” Seraphina’s blue eyes grew moist. “I would gladly give my life to save either of you.”

Cristiana moaned, and Alexia brushed curls from her face. Whatever illness robbed her strength, it had not stolen her beauty. Brown silken hair, streaked in gold, fanned across the white pillow in a lustrous bronze halo. High cheeks, a straight narrow nose, and well-shaped lips formed an angelic face. “Cristiana, I’m here.”

Her sister opened her eyes ever so slightly, and a smile tugged upon her lips. “You came.”

“I will always come for you.”

“’Tis not safe for you.”

“No one knows who I am.”

Her sister’s brown eyes, once so clear and sparkling, grew distant behind a haze. “I grant you, I barely recognized you when you first appeared. Seven years was far too long to believe you were dead.”

“I am here now and will never leave you again.”

The friar had caught Alexia sneaking into the castle when she was twelve, and she had suffered severely under his reprimand. “Someone at the castle wants you dead,” he had said. “And they will succeed if you play the fool.” The terror he had invoked had kept her watching her sister from afar for too many years. Until she learned that Cristiana had fallen ill on her fifteenth birthday. After that, Alexia’s persistence finally persuaded the friar, who knew the kitchen clerk, to procure Alexia a position as one of the herb gardeners. That job didn’t last long, for when Sir LeGode heard her singing as she crossed the bailey and saw its calming effects on Cristiana, he promoted her to the lady’s personal minstrel—placing her right inside her sister’s chamber. God was, indeed, amazing.

Yet now, as she gently caressed her sister’s hand, she realized that was two years ago, and her sister was still abed with some mysterious illness.

A year younger than Alexia, Cristiana had always been a timid, nervous child. While Alexia had insisted on learning to ride horses, Cristiana knitted and sewed and kept to her chamber. While Alexia sneaked out of the castle at night to fence with the squires, Cristiana cuddled beneath her quilt, jumping at every sound.

As if reading her thoughts, Cristiana said, “My brave sister. You should not risk so much for me.” She attempted to sit, but forsook the effort. “I still cannot believe anyone would want you dead. To what purpose?”

A question Alexia had been asking herself for years. At first she assumed it had something to do with her and her sister acquiring the estate after their mother died. Yet whether they married or not, they would each inherit half of Luxley. If both died, the land would return to the king. If only one died, the other would inherit all. Which would leave only her sister to profit. And with no suitors hovering about like vultures when they were but eight and nine, what would the villain have to gain by Alexia’s death?

Mayhap he was after the Spear.

If so, how did he know it was in her possession? And why were there no attempts made to find it in the past nine years?

“I do not know yet, but I will discover the villain,” she finally said to her sister. “And when I do, I will destroy him and return here to live with you.”

With all the passing years and the rumors of her death a fading memory, she prayed whoever wished her dead had long since gone. But the friar insisted the threat remained. And he was usually right about such things.

“I believe you will, Alexi—” Cristiana snapped her mouth shut. “I mean Katherine. ’Tis been two years, and I still have trouble remembering.”

“Me, as well,” Seraphina added.

Cristiana lifted a hand to the maid. “God bless you for your loyalty to us.”

Seraphina knelt before the bed. “How could I not, my lady? Your mother and father were so kind to take me in when I was but a babe—an orphan. They gave me a home, an education, and made me your companion.”

“And we gained a sister.” Cristiana smiled.

“Indeed.” Alexia laid the back of her hand on her sister’s cheek and cringed at the heat emanating from it. “What is this, dear sister? Alas, I saw you yesterday taking your supper in the hall at your proper place.”

“The healing potion robs me of all strength.” Cristiana closed her eyes. “But the apothecary insists it holds my affliction at bay.” Her eyelids fluttered and her chest rose and fell. “They frighten me, Alex—Katherine.” Her voice cracked.

“Who does?”

“The dark ones. They are everywhere. Shadows, here one minute, then gone, then reappearing again.” She opened her eyes, stark with fear. “Am I going mad?”

Alexia gripped her hands and kissed them. “Nay. Never. You are too strong for that. You are merely ill, and you will get well soon. You have my troth.”

The words seemed to calm her. But they did not have the same effect on Alexia. A storm brewed in her spirit at her sister’s words. Something evil had invaded this place. When Cristiana first fell ill two years past, Alexia assumed it was but a simple fever, especially when her sister recovered quickly and went about her normal duties. But then she would grow ill again, then well, then ill. And of late, the dreams, the shadows, the fear that plagued her…could only mean one thing.

Something tormented her from the dark side.

Alexia turned to the maid. “Pen and parchment, Seraphina, if you please.”

Rising, the lady moved to one of the chests, opened it, and returned with the items. Alexia set the parchment on a table by the bed, dipped the quill in ink, and scrolled the only thing she could think that might help her sister. Then dusting it with powder, she blew it off and handed it to her.

“What is this?”

“Read it.”

Cristiana held it up to the light of a candle. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.” She gathered her breath and continued. “Surely he shall deliver me from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover me with his feathers, and under his wings I shall trust: his truth shall be my shield and buckler. I shall not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.”

Releasing a sigh, she sank back onto the pillows. “This is beautiful. Where is it from?”

“It is the Word of God from the book of Psalms.”

Cristiana tossed the paper aside as if it would burn her skin. “The Holy Scriptures? ’Tis heresy to read it thus.”

“’Tis heresy not to.” Alexia picked it up and forced a softer tone. “The friar has been translating it into the king’s English and allowing me to read it. ’Tis magnificent and full of wonders we are never told.” Folding the parchment, she slid it beneath the quilt. “When you see the shadows, when the night horrors come, read this aloud. I promise ’twill help.”

Cristiana gave her a skeptical look but nodded and squeezed her hand. “Prithee, sing to me before you go?”

“Of course.” Alexia drew up a chair and began the tune their mother used to sing to them when they were little.

“As I lay on yule night

Alone in my longing

I thought I saw a fair sight

A maiden rocking her child…”

It had the effect she hoped as her sister calmed and quickly dozed off. If only Alexia could stay longer, sit by her bedside and pray. But the friar would worry.

“I will return anon.” Alexia addressed Seraphina, but her gaze was on her sister’s ragged breathing. Fear rose to taunt her faith-filled words.

“Worry not. I will give her the best of care, mistress.”

Nodding, Alexia slipped out the door into the dark corridor and started down the stairs. So consumed with thoughts of her sister, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

“Mistress Bregley. You are here! Excellent.”

Startled by the sound of Sir LeGode’s voice, she halted and turned, careful to keep her eyes lowered as was proper for a servant. “I sang for Lady D’Clere, Sir.”

“I am glad to hear it. She has been distressed of late.”

“If that is all, Sir.” Alexia started on her way.

“We have very important guests, and I request you sing for them at our feast tonight.”

She halted once again. “Sing?”

“Aye, the sweet sounds that come hence from your mouth?” He teased.

“Of course, but … I am no troubadour, Sir. I fear I would bring you shame.”

“Nonsense!” He started past her with a wave of his hand. “I shall expect you as soon as the meal is underway.”

Sing!? How could she sing in front of the King’s Guard? In front of the man she’d battled in the forest? Should he recognize her, her ruse would be up, the Falcon of Emerald Forest unmasked, and she’d be tossed into the dungeon to rot. Yet if she disobeyed Sir LeGode, ’twould cast equal suspicion on her that could lead to the same end. Now what was she to do?