The Poisoned Serpent

16

Alan had not been happy when first Richard told him that he was to run errands for Cristen while she was caring for Bernard. There were plenty of others who could have been given such a menial task, he thought. Alan’s job was to serve as a knight’s squire, not as a sickroom servant.

He felt much better, however, when Richard took him aside later in the armory hall and made his assignment clearer.

“I don’t trust Hugh,” Richard said. “He obviously has Lady Cristen under his thumb, and I fear that he might persuade her to enter into a scheme to help Bernard escape.” Richard’s blue eyes were somber. “If that should happen, it would not look good for my father.”

“That is so, my lord,” Alan agreed.

As he and Richard were speaking, a few of the de Beauté knights came into the hall. They were carrying bows and talking and laughing among themselves. As they passed by, several of them nodded a greeting to Richard.

When they had gone, Richard put an affectionate hand upon his squire’s shoulder. “That is your real job, Alan: making sure that there is no embarrassing escape. You are to keep an eye on Lady Cristen at all times. You are to let me know when Lord Hugh comes to visit her and, if possible, what they talk about.”

Color rose under the boy’s fair, beardless skin. “Aye, my lord,” he said earnestly. “I understand. I promise I will not fail you.”

Richard’s hand tightened slightly. “I know you won’t.”

At the note of approval in Richard’s voice, Alan’s color rose even higher.

So it was that on Saturday afternoon, when Alan began his service with Cristen, he felt as if he were on a holy mission. It did not take him long to realize, however, that Bernard Radvers was seriously ill. He was so ill, in fact, that Alan strongly doubted he was in any condition to attempt an escape.

Lady Cristen was tireless in her attendance upon the sick man. During the periods when Bernard slept, she remained in her own room, which had a door that opened directly into Bernard’s, and she and her attendant lady sewed shirts for the household at Somerford.

Alan sat on a chair by the door and waited to run errands, which consisted mainly of arranging for water and food. It was very dull.

Cristen evidently understood the tedium of her companions, for she sent Mabel to take her supper with Lady Elizabeth’s household, and after she and Alan had eaten, she asked him if he would like to challenge her to a game of chess.

Alan was delighted, and volunteered to procure a set so they could play.

Dark had fallen, but indoors the castle was lit by flambeaux affixed to the stone walls. All of the staircases and halls Alan passed through were shadowy and empty. The de Beauté knights were gathered into the guardroom and Lady Elizabeth’s household was at supper in the sheriff’s apartment. The only people Alan saw as he passed through the silent, high-ceilinged stone chambers were a few servants carrying buckets of water up the stairs to the sheriff’s apartment.

Alan knew that Gervase kept a chess set in one of the chests in his office, and he decided to see if by some chance the office was unlocked before he went on downstairs to the guardroom.

To Alan’s surprise, a light showed under the office door. The sheriff must be working late, he thought. He knocked briskly on the door and said in a loud voice, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir, but it’s Alan Stanham. I was wondering if I could borrow your chess set.”

No answer was returned. Instead, the door opened abruptly and Alan found himself looking not at the sheriff but at the sheriff’s son.

Richard did not appear pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?” he asked irritably.

“I came to borrow the chess set, my lord,” Alan repeated. “Lady Cristen expressed a desire to play.”

“Couldn’t you have gone to the guardroom?” Richard sounded almost angry.

Alan replied steadily, “I am sorry, my lord, to have disturbed you. I will go to the guardroom.”

Richard drew a deep breath, as if he were trying to get control of himself. Then he said, “Now that you have already disturbed me, you may as well take the bloody set.”

“I will go to the guardroom if you prefer, my lord,” Alan said. He had never seen Richard so out of sorts before.

Richard gave him a scathing look. “Stay there and I’ll get it for you.” He turned back into the room.

Alan remained at the door, knowing that he had blundered, but not knowing why. His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the rolls of parchment heaped upon the desk.

Richard turned from the chest that he had opened, the chess set in his hands. “Come in, Alan,” he said in his normal voice. “I have been going over some tax figures for my father and it has given me a headache. I’m sorry I sounded so churlish.”

Alan felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. He smiled and came a little way into the room. “That is all right, my lord.”

Richard rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “How are you faring with Lady Cristen?”

“It’s boring, my lord,” Alan said frankly. “Nobody has come to see her except the servants. Bernard truly is very ill. I don’t think you need to worry about him trying to escape. He has a high fever and most of the time he just sleeps.”

Richard dropped his hand from his forehead. His blue eyes regarded Alan shrewdly. “Have you seen Bernard for yourself?”

“Only from the door,” Alan returned. “Lady Cristen does not want me to get too close to him, lest I take the infection.”

Richard offered Alan the chess set. “Isn’t that thoughtful of her?” he said. Irony sounded clearly in his voice.

Alan blinked as Richard’s meaning became clear.

“Do you think she is just pretending that Bernard is ill? That she does not wish me to get too close to him in case I see through the mummery?”

“It is a thought,” Richard said softly.

Alan flushed. “You must think me a fool.”

“Of course I don’t think you a fool.” Richard put a hand on Alan’s shoulder and walked with him to the door. “I’m sure Lady Cristen has been very kind to you and you don’t like to think ill of her. It is always hard for a man to think a lovely lady may be deceiving him. It is always wise to keep the possibility alive in one’s mind, however.”

“Aye, my lord,” Alan said in a subdued voice.

“Hugh hasn’t been to see her?”

“Nay, my lord.”

“All right.” Richard patted his squire’s shoulder. “I have faith in your good sense and your loyalty, Alan. I know you won’t fail me.”

“Never, my lord,” Alan promised fervently.

Richard gave him a gentle push, and Alan stepped out into the passage. “Good night, then, Alan. God go with you.”

“And with you, my lord,” Alan replied. Clutching the chess set against his green tunic, Alan returned upstairs to Bernard’s sickroom watch.

Cristen’s kindness to Alan did not extend as far as allowing him to beat her at chess. They played as equals the first game, with Cristen checkmating him after only a few moves. The second game she gave up a knight, and the game went on a little longer before she won handily. The third game she gave up her queen, and it took her over half an hour to beat him.

“Judas!” Alan exclaimed as he stared in frustration at the board. “I didn’t think ladies could play chess like that.”

“My father is an excellent chess player,” Cristen said. “He taught me when I was very young.”

A voice from the doorway said, “Aren’t you going to mention the advanced tutelage you received from me?”

Alan had thought that Cristen was very pretty, but the way her face lit when she heard Hugh’s voice made her look positively breathtaking.

“You?” she said. “You never tutored me. All you ever did was beat me.”

Hugh walked across the room to the stool that held the chessboard. He regarded it with interest.

Alan said glumly, “She even gave me a queen and I still lost.”

Hugh grinned. “She’s a ruthless woman, Alan.”

Alan stared at Hugh in astonishment. There was real warmth in that smile, and genuine gaiety. The look was contagious, and Alan felt his mouth curl in response.

Cristen said austerely, “Alan is not the kind of person who would want his opponent to throw him the game.”

Alan said, “Well…not if I knew she was throwing me the game.”

At that, both Hugh and Cristen laughed.

Treacherous delight shot through Alan that he had been able to elicit such a response.

Hugh’s face sobered. “How is Bernard?” he asked Cristen.

“His fever has come down a little with my medication, but it is still too high. He has been sleeping for most of the afternoon and evening,” she replied.

Alan rose from his stool on one side of the chess board. “If you don’t mind, my lady, I think I should return the chess set to the sheriff’s office.”

Hugh looked at him in surprise. “Won’t it be locked at this hour?”

“Sir Richard was there when I went to fetch it, my lord,” Alan said. “He may be there still.”

Something that Alan couldn’t decipher flickered in Hugh’s gray eyes. “Richard is certainly working late,” he said lightly.

“Aye, my lord. He is helping his father with the tax rolls.”

“Oh, then the sheriff was there as well?”

Alan hesitated. The question had been posed carelessly, but he had a feeling that his answer was important. He bit his lip. “Nay,” he said reluctantly. “Only Sir Richard was working tonight.”

“Such a dutiful, thoughtful son,” Hugh said, and the uncomfortable, mocking edge that Alan so resented was back in his voice.

“Take back the chess set if that will make you more comfortable, Alan,” Cristen said serenely. “If Sir Richard is gone, you will just have to return it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Alan said.

As he fitted the ivory chess pieces into the carved oak box that had been made for them, he listened to Hugh and Cristen talking about Bernard. It was clear to him that they knew each other well and were entirely comfortable in each other’s company. Finally the last pawn had been put away. Alan picked up board and box and went to the door.

“Would you like me to fetch you anything while I am downstairs, my lady?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Cristen replied with her lovely smile. “But thank you, Alan.”

Neither Cristen nor Hugh had given him the slightest overt indication that they wished him gone. Why then, Alan wondered, did he feel their desire so urgently?

He walked out the door, closed it behind him, and walked firmly across the landing to the spiral staircase that led down to the third level of the castle. When he reached the staircase, however, he halted, then retraced his steps on silent feet.

Bernard’s room had a door that opened onto the landing as well as one that opened into Cristen’s room. Moving cautiously, Alan opened the landing door and slipped into Bernard’s room.

The sick man was asleep, breathing heavily through congested lungs. Alan stood quietly, listening to that stertorous breathing, and thought that Hugh and Cristen had not been misleading the sheriff and Richard about the seriousness of Bernard’s illness. He certainly was not breathing like a man who could manage an escape.

The door that opened into Cristen’s room was always kept ajar, so that she could hear Bernard. If Alan remained by the landing door, however, he knew he would be invisible from the other room.

Sir Richard had told him to try to listen to what was said between Hugh and Cristen, so even though Alan did not expect to hear anything about a projected escape plan, he remained. He was determined to carry out his mission as thoroughly as he could.

He heard Hugh, perfectly audible through the open door, “Where is Mabel?”

“I sent her to spend the evening with Lady Elizabeth’s household,” Cristen replied. “I thought it would be more cheerful for her than spending her evening in a sickroom.”

Hugh’s voice brimmed with amusement. “And Alan has gone to return the chess set. How convenient.”

“Isn’t it?” Cristen replied softly.

There was a rustling, which Alan interpreted as Cristen getting up from her stool, and then there was no sound.

After a while, as the silence continued, Alan realized with scandalized shock that they must be kissing.

More silent minutes went by. Finally Hugh said in a desperate voice, “Cristen…”

“We can’t, Hugh.” Her voice was breathless. “Alan could come back at any moment.”

He groaned. “Damn Richard anyway,” he said.

“Richard?” Cristen asked. “What has Richard got to do with this?”

Hugh’s voice sounded slightly more under control as he replied, “Richard sent the boy to spy on you. He suspects that I love you and he wants to find out about you.”

Alan’s eyes widened with shock at this shrewd assessment of his mission.

“But why?” Cristen asked in bewilderment.

Hugh’s voice sounded louder, as if he had come closer to Bernard’s door. “Richard wants to know everything about me. He wants to know when I go to garderobe and when I cut myself shaving. God knows why. I certainly don’t have the same interest in him.”

“What do you think he was doing in the sheriff’s office tonight?” Cristen asked.

“He was probably altering the books,” Hugh replied.

At these words, Alan’s mouth dropped open in outrage.

There was silence from next door.

Then Cristen said in a troubled voice, “Hugh, don’t let Richard know that Alan told you he was there tonight. He’s a nice boy. I don’t want him caught in the middle of this power struggle that is going on between you and Richard.”

“I don’t know that I would call it a power struggle, Cristen,” Hugh protested.

“Well, whatever you want to call it, that is what it is,” she returned. “And it worries me.”

“Never fear, my love.” The tenderness in Hugh’s voice caught Alan by the throat. “Richard may be clever and ruthless, but he’s not as clever and ruthless as I am.”

“What a comforting thought,” Cristen said.

Hugh chuckled.

In a brisker tone, she went on, “Have you made any progress in your investigation?”

“I’m not sure,” Hugh replied. “I went out to Deerhurst this afternoon and talked to Edgar Harding’s eldest son. He told me that they were holding his sister’s betrothal feast on the night of de Beauté’s murder and that his father was there all the time.”

“Well then,” Cristen said, “that is that.”

“Aye. It is the kind of defense that is almost impossible to break. But if Saxon betrothal feasts are anything like Norman betrothal feasts, everyone in that hall was stinking drunk by the time dark fell. It would have been easy for either Harding or his son to slip away and ride into Lincoln without anyone knowing they had gone.”

“His son?” Cristen repeated in surprise.

“Aye. Cedric Harding appears to be a formidable young man, and he hated de Beauté fully as much as his father did.”

Cristen said curiously, “Do you really suspect the Hardings of this murder, Hugh?”

Hugh was silent. At last he said slowly, “I don’t know. In truth, I think the Roumare connection is more likely. This was not a murder done in the anger of the moment. This was a murder that was planned.” Hugh’s voice became fainter as he turned away from the door, but his diction was so clear that Alan had no trouble hearing him. “The question that keeps coming back to me is, who benefits the most from de Beauté’s death? The Hardings don’t benefit. Stephen is not likely to return their land to them because de Beauté is dead. I can see either Edgar or Cedric Harding killing de Beauté in a fit of anger, but to plan it out in such cold blood…I don’t know if revenge could be that important, even to a Saxon.”

“You think Roumare benefits the most from Lord Gilbert’s death?” Cristen asked.

“Aye. It is almost certain that he will be made the next earl, and that is an honor he covets.”

“I think you may be right,” Cristen said, “but what I don’t see, Hugh, is how you are going to prove it.”

“I have to prove it,” Hugh said. “If I don’t, Bernard will hang. And neither Ralf nor Adela would like that.”

Alan jumped as the man in the bed made a sudden, restless movement.

I’d better get out of here, he thought. Silently he melted through the door back out onto the landing. Then he walked to the second door on the landing and knocked. It was opened by Hugh.

“The sheriff’s office was locked,” Alan said, avoiding Hugh’s eyes. “I shall have to return the chess set in the morning.”

He went to put the game back upon the stool where it had sat earlier. Cristen was not visible and the door to Bernard’s room was open wider than it had been before. Alan glanced in and saw her standing by the bed. She held a cup of something in her hand.

“Hugh,” she called. “Come and help me, please.”

Hugh went immediately to join her by the bed. As Alan watched from the door, he supported Bernard’s head as Cristen got him to drink whatever it was in her cup.

After Hugh had lowered Bernard back to his pillow, they stood together over the sick man and Hugh slipped his arm around Cristen. She leaned her head against his shoulder and for a brief moment, his dark head bent so that his cheek rested against her hair.

Alan turned away from the door and went to stare out the tower window into the blackness below.

Hugh sounded like a completely different person when he talked to Lady Cristen. He actually sounded like someone Alan could like.

That is a pointless conclusion, Alan scolded himself. Hugh was clearly Richard’s enemy, and in any contest between the two men, Alan knew whose side he would be on.