Dark Jenny Read online

  By the end Drake was roaring, and Gillian’s three pals wilted under this royal onslaught. But Gillian was unbowed. “When you hold court tomorrow, sire,” he said in the same infuriatingly even tone, “I will ask to settle the matter in trial by combat.”

  Drake laughed humorlessly. “No one’s settled a dispute that way in years. We have courts and laws now.”

  “That is true, and were this any other crime, I would expect nothing else. But this is a crime of both treason and blood betrayal. As she said, the queen is also family. As such, this can only be expunged through spilled blood. Mine, or the queen’s through her champion.”

  “Tommy, please,” Jennifer said, and approached him. Tears shone on her cheeks. “Look at me. I’ve known you since before you could shave. You’ve been my friend and confidant. How could you believe this of me?”

  He turned those blank, serious eyes on her. “I assure you it was not an easy decision. And it broke my heart to admit it to myself.” Then he faced Drake again. “Because of the seriousness of the accusations, I ask that the combat be scheduled as soon as possible. Since Elliot is not here, I must insist that we not wait for you to summon him. You must choose a champion from among the knights present.”

  “I’m not choosing anything,” Drake snapped. To the three silent witnesses he added, “Nor am I denying Gillian his request.” He stood to his full imposing height, and his voice grew official. “But since it involves the crown directly, I am claiming royal prerogative and will take the day to think it over. I suggest all of you do the same. If you go through with your intention to raise the issue at court … I’ll make my decision then.”

  “As you say, Your Majesty,” Gillian said. He knelt again, and the three men with him followed suit. They stood and strode from the room without waiting to be dismissed. The door closed behind him with a solid, funereal thud.

  “I don’t believe that,” Kay seethed. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “A man with the moral high ground,” Drake said wryly. He turned to Jennifer. “So now what should we do?”

  “You’re asking me?” she replied, and added a derisive “Hmph.”

  “This is all about you,” he almost, but not quite, snarled. “By tonight, every Knight of the Double Tarn will know Gillian asked for trial by combat, and that one of them will be asked to stand in for Elliot.”

  “How will you get out of it?” Kay asked.

  Drake shrugged. “If Gillian really demands it, I’ll have to let him have it.”

  “Are you serious?” Jennifer gasped. “You’ll let my honor, your wife’s honor, be decided by two thugs with swords?”

  “I have a country to run, Jennifer. The loyalty of the military is essential to that, and they already think you’re guilty. I have to overcome that somehow.”

  Jennifer stepped toward him slowly, trembling with fury. “So you, my husband, the man who shares my bed, would give in to these demands just to save face.”

  “To save Grand Bruan,” he corrected.

  “This is absurd,” she said again, and turned with a swirl of her silk gown. “I’ll be in my sewing room. When you have some rational thoughts, please let me know.” Her door slam was far more emphatic than Gillian’s.

  Drake sighed and dropped into the nearest chair. He looked up at Kay and me. “Okay, fellows. I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Is there any way to get word to Elliot?” Kay asked.

  Drake shook his head. “I’d have to send one of the knights, and then everyone will know it’s because I don’t think anyone else will stand up for the queen’s innocence.”

  “Will anyone?” I asked.

  No one answered.

  Drake pondered a moment, then said, “I suppose, as Jennifer’s husband, I could fight Gillian.”

  “No,” Kay said quickly. “You are the king, you have to stay above it all and pass judgment.”

  Drake chuckled. “Not in a trial by combat. The winner’s sword is all the judge they need. You just don’t think I can beat Tommy, do you?”

  Kay said nothing.

  Drake turned to me. “You’ve got a unique perspective on this, Mr. LaCrosse. What do you think I should do?”

  “Put off this fight as long as you can,” I said. “Let Kay investigate this further. The killer is here, and he’ll find him. Maybe he’s this ‘Kindermord’ the queen mentioned.”

  Drake shook his head. “There’s no time. Somebody will have to fight Gillian, unless I get a lot smarter between now and tomorrow morning.” He paused. “And there’s no one named Kindermord. It’s just old gossip, older even than the stuff about Jennifer.”

  Kay sighed. “Marc, I’m really sorry about all this. It happened on my watch.”

  Drake smiled. “Bob, if it hadn’t happened on your watch, Jennifer’s head might already be decorating the main gate.” Drake heaved his large frame from the chair. “And now, if I don’t get in there and make peace with her, my head might be up there in the morning.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Marc,” Kay said.

  “Bob,” Drake asked quietly, “do you believe she’s guilty?”

  “No,” Kay said at once.

  Drake turned to me. “And you?”

  I held up my hands. “I’m a prisoner, I have no opinion either way.”

  Drake indicated my manacles. “Do we really need those, Bob?”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s not involved,” Kay said. “But it only takes one percent to kill you.”

  Drake nodded. “That’s true. I suppose I should go attempt to mollify my own one percent, then. Bob, keep me posted. Good evening, gentlemen.”

  Drake went into the other room where Jennifer awaited. I almost expected crockery to fly past his head when the door opened, but it closed behind him uneventfully.

  “You have no ideas about anything?” Kay demanded. “That makes me look real good for building you up to the king. Thanks.”

  I clenched my fists; well, at least my left one. He was lucky I didn’t shatter my cast on his skull. I snapped, “You really want to know what I think? Even if you had a dozen guys like me, you’d never get to the bottom of this. A royal court is always full of secrets, and this one is no different, although it is impressively complicated. I mean, hell, maybe this was all to force Gillian into a tournament; I’d look real hard at anyone who volunteers to fight for the queen.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Kay said, still fuming.

  For some reason this disapproval made me even more determined to defend myself. “And even if I stayed and cleared up this mess, another one would just spring up in its place. That’s how it works.”

  I must’ve sounded condescending, because Kay’s angry redness deepened almost to purple. “I don’t expect you to understand, you being a sophisticated outsider like you are. But this court, this king, this country, is different. We’ve earned the chance to make a safe, secure future for our children, instead of adding their blood to what’s already soaked into this island. That chance means each of us has to do everything, everything to make it work, to hold this dream of Grand Bruan together.”

  He gestured at a nearby painting that showed a triumphant Marcus Drake on horseback, sunlight glinting off his upheld sword. “You see this? There has never been a single, unified government on this island in recorded history before this one. Now no one dares to attack us with swords and armor anymore, so they come after us with ideas, with gossip, with death by damn poison. And that poison spreads with every lie and accusation that gets made. It can’t be stopped with armor and swords, only with this.” He touched his temple. “And those of us who have learned to fight only with our hands need the help of people like you, who know how to fight that way.”

  This passionate tirade, coming as it did from a big, square-headed soldier who at first glance might not appear to know any two-syllable words, moved me far more than I wanted to admit. Still, I held up my wrists and rattled them for emphasis. “It’s not my fight, Kay. And
it’s only my problem until I get these off for good.”

  Kay looked at me for a long, silent moment, searching my face for the idealism he was sure lay hidden there. He didn’t find it. Finally he sighed, “Damn it, Eddie,” then turned away and struck the stone wall with the flat of his hand. The noise echoed. Without looking he said, “I’ll take you back to your room, then, until I can make arrangements to get you safely out of the castle.”

  The relief I felt at those words was tempered by the guilt at disappointing Kay. “I’m sorry, Bob.”

  “Me, too.”

  chapter

  ELEVEN

  The door to my luxurious prison once again closed behind me, and the lock clicked in the silence. I felt as if I’d just kicked the crutches out from under a one-legged man.

  For good measure I wedged a heavy chair against the door handle. If that mob of angry lacehounds somehow got past the guard and wanted in, they’d at least have to get mussed up a little. And more important, it would alert me should Agravaine decide to make a strike; he’d have to work harder than this to catch me off guard.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. I couldn’t believe I was actually trapped in a castle like some fairy-tale princess, but here I was. Half the people around me thought I was a murderer, the other half wanted an innocent woman to burn at the stake, and the world’s greatest king was hamstrung by his own code of honor and law. I’d be immensely glad to be away from here and back in the real world.

  I worked my shoulders to get out the stiffness from being in chains all day, but only dislodged a big, heavy yawn. Everything I told Kay was true: it wasn’t my fight, it wasn’t my problem, and Grand Bruan’s internal politics were none of my business. But two things continued to nag at me despite my efforts to ignore them.

  One was the look on Kay’s face when he spoke of his dream for Grand Bruan. I was so used to dealing with cynical, counterfeit feelings that I was unprepared for his genuine emotion. If something could affect a grim, gritty soldier to such a degree, perhaps it was worthwhile, and worth my time. Maybe I should do something because it was right, not just to save my own hide.

  The other was the certainty that, once she knew my reasons for leaving, Iris Gladstone would never speak to me again, no matter how many times I broke Agravaine’s nose.

  Outside the window the evening sun cast its golden glow all the way to the opposite horizon. Past the city walls, dust rose from wagon wheels as merchants headed home after a day hawking wares at the market. Smoke trickled from chimneys as wives dutifully prepared evening meals.

  Once no such community could have survived beyond the castle’s barricade. The historical Grand Bruan wasn’t a place for nice families and hardworking tradesmen. Raiders and rivals would have slaughtered anyone they found, burned all the crops, and destroyed the buildings. Now, though, children played in the dusk with a reasonable chance they might never in their lifetime have to fight anyone with a sword. They could go to school, learn to read, and build a secure future for their own children. In this bloody, violent world, that was a hell of a gift.

  But not my gift, I reminded myself. Not my problem.

  I looked down at the rock-hard bandage on my hand. I remembered the way her hair smelled as she wrenched my fingers back into place. The thought of never kissing her again was not pleasant, but so what? Women were everywhere, and eventually I’d intrigue another one. It’s not as if I wanted a wife, or a mother for my children. Those things were not options for me, and I was quite happy that way. At best I could get some brief companionship, and it would be no real effort to find a working girl in a tavern with short black hair, and dancing eyes, and a biting wit, and a touch that brought every bit of me to life, and …

  Ah, hell. I had it bad, all right. And from just one real kiss and a bunch of cracked knuckles. I turned to get a drink from the bar.

  King Marcus Drake, all six and a half feet of him, stood less than three steps away.

  I know I jumped. I probably let out an undignified, girlish yelp. I threw myself back against the barred window and my hand shot reflexively for my sword, except that I didn’t have one and my hand was useless. “Shit!” I said, although I barely heard it over the thundering in my chest. How had he crept up behind me without my hearing him?

  “Sorry.” Drake filled the room like a stallion in an outhouse. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The chair still blocked the door. “How the hell did you get in here?” I demanded as I caught my breath.

  He waved a hand at the far wall, where a section of brick had opened to reveal a dark hallway beyond. “Secret passage. The place is loaded with them.”

  I’d thoroughly searched the walls for any seams that indicated hidden doorways and completely missed that one. That made me neither look nor feel very smart. “I thought you were making peace with your wife. Did she chase you in here, or is there some other reason for sneaking up behind me like that?”

  He blinked at my disrespectful tone, but his voice was calm when he said, “Actually, Mr. LaCrosse, I’m here on business. I want to hire you.”

  I did not kneel as etiquette demanded. Instead I went to the bar and poured myself a drink. I didn’t ask Drake if he wanted one. I tossed it down, shivered at its bite, and said, “Is that a fact?”

  “I know you haven’t been treated terribly well—”

  I held up my bandaged hand. “You think?”

  “—but … well, Mr. LaCrosse, I need your help.”

  I closed my eyes in supreme annoyance. He didn’t say we or Grand Bruan or the country needed my help. If he had, I could’ve easily stayed angry. It was a personal request, spoken without self-pity or whining or any sort of royal posturing. And just like Kay’s damn speech, it got through to me.

  He stood there expectantly, huge and mythical in the normal-size room, and awaited my response. I must’ve been light-headed from the stench of genuine idealism, because even though Drake and I were about the same age, his mystique was so intense I had the fleeting thought that I wanted to be him when I grew up.

  I said, “Let me guess. You want me to fight Thomas Gillian.”

  He laughed. “Good lord, no. No offense, but he’d have you carved into pork chops before your sword cleared its scabbard.” Then, realizing he’d been a bit too disparaging, he added, “Because, of course, it wouldn’t be a fair fight with your injury.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to banter. The king can’t disappear for very long without someone noticing. I need you to go to Blithe Ward and bring back Elliot Spears. He’s the only man who can either talk some sense into Gillian or beat him in a fair fight.”

  “Who or what is Blithe Ward?”

  “Elliot’s castle. It used to be called Bitter Ward, but when he took it over, he renamed it.”

  “Where is it?”

  “On the other side of the island. A day’s ride, if you switch horses regularly and don’t stop to relieve yourself too often.”

  “Will he come?”

  “Yes. He’s my best friend, and as the queen’s champion it’s his job.”

  Drake was one of those men who effortlessly made people crave his approval, so most jumped to do what he asked. I didn’t. “Don’t you have errand boys for this sort of thing?”

  “If I send one of them, everyone would know it. I have to appear impartial.”

  “But you’re not.”

  His big shoulders sagged a little. “No. I will be impartial in my judgment, should that become necessary, but never in my heart. How can I be? I love Jennifer, and I believe she’s innocent. Nothing can change that.”

  “Not even the facts?”

  “You said yourself that the facts are on her side. There’s no real proof, only conjecture, but it plays on people’s feelings. It’s those emotions that I have to worry about. Jennifer isn’t terribly popular, and a lot of people wouldn’t mind seeing her suffer.”

  “Look, I appreciate the spot you’re in, but this is no
ne of my business. Really. I just want to get out of here, and if it’s all the same to you, cut Grand Bruan out of all my future travel plans. You people are just too high-strung for simple folk like me.”

  He said quietly, “You think the way things are now, you’ll get out of the country in one piece?”

  I was silent for a moment. Finally I said, “It’s unseemly for a king to threaten a commoner. Makes him sound petty.”

  “No, it’s a warning. You will get safely out of Nodlon, but it’s a long way from here to the south coast. If anything happened to you, you’d very easily become the scapegoat for yesterday’s events.”

  I felt a slow chill that had nothing to do with temperature. History showed that Drake was a hands-on king not afraid to get a little bloody. I’d hate to fight him with two good hands, let alone just one. “That would get Jennifer off the hook.”

  “But it doesn’t expose the real killer. If we don’t do that, he’ll strike again. And I won’t be able to sleep thinking his next target might be Jennifer.”

  “Or you.”

  “Or me. And that would be the worst thing, not for me, but for this country. The peace and unity we’ve created depends on my being invincible. I’m not, of course, but I can’t let that get out.” He said this last with a wry little smile.

  I sipped my drink more carefully this time. So the great King Marcus Drake wanted my help and expected it simply because it served this sparkly dream of Grand Bruan. Just as Bob Kay had done a few minutes ago, and as I knew Iris Gladstone would if I saw her again. Before I even realized I’d formed the words, I said, “I get twenty-five gold pieces a day, plus expenses.”

  “That’s all?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

  Yeah, that’s all, I thought sardonically. That’s the price of my clear conscience. “There’s not much money in this business if you’re honest.”

  Marcus smiled a little. “Then you must be the most honest man around.”

  I didn’t laugh. “I’ll need something with your seal on it so this Spears will know I’m legit. And a good horse.” I recalled the recalcitrant, mule-stubborn one that had brought me here from Lady Astamore’s and would be glad to never see it again.