A Killing Season

Chapter Thirty-Two

Thomas skidded and fell, sliding head first down the remaining path to the beach. Struggling to get on his feet, he felt the damp soaking through his robes. Had he ever been this covered with mud, even as a boy? He shivered.

His teeth chattering with the cold, he looked around. The cutting salt mist twisted like a spiteful imp, driving the chill deeper into his bones. He squinted to see more clearly, but it was a noise that caught his attention. He looked back toward the cliff.

A dark-colored mare was tethered to a piece of driftwood. The sea lapped close to her hooves, and her brown eyes betrayed enough white to suggest she was not pleased with her situation. Another horse of light coat was on higher ground, close to the cliffs. Less concerned with the hissing surf, this beast snuffled at the ground in search of edible grass.

Taking pity on the nervous mare, Thomas approached her with soft words and a gentle touch. Calmer, she let him lead her to the high rocky ground where he loosely wrapped the reins around a dead branch. “If the sea comes too close, you can still escape,” he whispered and was rewarded with a nudge of her nose.

From the vantage point of this greater elevation, he could now see two sets of footprints in the sand. The deeper one surely belonged to Leonel, who must have just passed through, but the fainter set could mark anyone’s path. Hugh or Raoul might be the most likely guesses, but other tracks, closer to the water, could have been washed away by the incoming tide. Who knows how many men have come here, Thomas thought. If others had, where did they all go?

Returning to the lower beach, he followed the clear footprints as far as he could. When the impressionable sand gave way to gravel, less battered by the sea and nearer the cliff, the tracks disappeared. Protecting his eyes from the salt spray, he gazed ahead and saw that the beach quickly narrowed around the curve that formed the remainder of the cove. He watched the waves exploding against the precipice and knew that no man would have recently traveled that route.

Thomas next scrutinized the nearest cliff. The rock face was wet, and there were no visible toeholds that might help a man climb that steep and dangerous ascent. Even if there had been, only fools or the desperate would try to do so on such a day.

Contrary to legends, he knew that men did not just disappear into the ground and asked himself if there was a cave, hidden from view. Slowly turning, he searched for evidence of one close by.

Stones, hammered loose over time by winds, had tumbled to the beach, shattering as they hit the earth. Although a few of the rock piles were high, Thomas saw no evidence of a hiding place. But nearer the precipice, he did notice an outcropping of crumbling rock that might once have been a bridge to the island. A fractured boulder rested against the spot where the ledge was still joined to the cliff.

The placement was odd, he thought. The rock was broken, but the only other stone large enough to have once been part of it lay some distance away. Considering size and weight, such large fragments should have remained closer together. As he hurried toward the leaning boulder, he saw what appeared to be a well-trodden path through the rubble. Others had been there before him.

Soon he saw a small gap between stone and cliff face. This might be a cave entrance. Cautiously, he edged closer. There was a narrow space, just wide enough for a man.

He slipped through.

Until his eyes grew used to the diminished light, it was unsafe to go farther. He stopped, pressed his back against the rock wall, and shut his eyes. As the pounding of the surf faded, he began to hear other sounds.

Did a man just laugh?

Thomas opened his eyes, extended his hand, and crept along the solid rock until he felt nothing. Hoping he had only reached the end of the narrow entrance and that some deep chasm did not lie at his feet, he cautiously reached out with hand and foot. The ground was solid, and the rock against his back sheered off to the right.

He had had been right. The boulder hid a cave.

But he did not know what lay beyond. Convinced he had heard a man’s voice, he decided it was wiser not to alert anyone to his presence just yet. He held his breath and listened.

“You look like a trussed chicken, Sir Hugh!”

Was that Sir Leonel’s voice? Thomas thought it was.

“Untie me.”

The man replied, but his words were inaudible.

That first voice did belong to Leonel, Thomas decided, and the other man was obviously his prioress’ brother. Why was the latter bound, and who had done it?

“You have killed Raoul. He was the one who murdered his brothers. Why not free me?”

“Why should I? Your question was foolish, my lord, but you are arrogant like most men born with rank and wealth.” He snorted. “God may usually favor you, but you presume too much on his preference.”

“Hard words, Leonel, and ones I do not understand. If I have offended you, reveal my transgression and I shall heal the insult. If you resent my birth, you have no cause. As Baron Herbert’s nephew, you hold rank enough and have gained the esteem of men, honor, and a king’s praise in Outremer for your courage.”

“Yet when you spoke, the Lord Edward listened and once dropped a jeweled ring into your hand. Aye, he knighted me but never otherwise showed me favor. I was only a landless knight, not a baron’s heir.”

“Your uncle’s regard…”

“Meaningless. He smiled on me but never gave any gift of coin or plate. He took all my service to him as his due.”

“He gave you the means to earn your own renown and wealth: weapons, armor and horse. As for the king’s regard, the Lord Edward has always honored loyalty and courage. He would find you a place in his court.”

“And I would spend my life in servitude, never standing above other men as my talents warrant. I do not lack for wit, my lord.”

“Neither Baron Herbert nor I believed otherwise.”

“But if I were to unbind you, I would be a foolish man. As it is, your predicament serves my purpose well.”

Hugh mumbled something in reply.

Now fully able to see in the gloom, Thomas quickly looked around him. The cave, carved out by the sea, had ledges protruding from the high rock walls. From overhead, a weak beam of light filtered down but slanted away from him. Concluding that he was safely in shadow, he chanced a peek around the corner.

Hugh sat on the sand, bound hand and foot. A body sprawled to the knight’s left, and Leonel stood with his back to the cave entrance. There was a small crossbow at his feet.

Leonel gestured at the ledges above them. “All this is mine, you see,” he said. “There is wealth to be had in smuggling, but my uncle, suffering as he does from a brittle righteousness, would never have approved of the opportunity I saw. Had he known what I was doing here, he would have sent both me and my men to the gallows, rather than praise me for cleverness.”

“Smuggling? You?”

“Who else? Surely you would not expect this effort from my limp-cocked cousins! Like my uncle, they are men with imagination no better than that of worms.”

“Did you not gain wealth enough in Outremer?”

“Compared to my uncle, I acquired nothing. He is miserly, willing enough to feed me scraps from his table and toss the odd bauble picked up from looting an infidel village. He owed me far more for my long and devoted service to him. I saved his life once. He grasped my shoulder and thought the gesture adequate.”

“He paid your father’s debts to his own detriment, leaving you free of the burden, and he treated you like a son.”

“And did I not prove to be a worthy one? I deserved to be his heir.”

“He had sons of his own body.”

Leonel roared with merriment. “He’d have been better served if he had spilt his seed in the earth rather than his wife. That monk you brought from Tyndal is more of a man than any of my cousins. I swear that at least two of them were gelded at birth.”

Hugh growled. “Then it is you, not Raoul, who killed them all.”

“A snail might have been swifter than you to discover the truth. But with due humility, God has the honor for the eldest. When I learned of that death, I began to reason thus: if my uncle had died before his marriage, leaving my father as heir, I would have title and this castle. Wasn’t I worthier than my uncle’s womanish sons?” He waved his hand around. “As master here, I could grow so rich with smuggling that I might buy the loyalty of prominent men. Who knows how high I could rise amongst those upon whom King Edward smiles? Nor would I have to pay smugglers as much if they could bring the goods here in milder seasons. Men demand too much gold when they fear their boats will sink in a winter gale.”

Hugh’s next question was lost as a huge wave shattered against the shore near the cave entrance. Shuddering, Thomas understood that the tide was coming in faster than he had realized. Then he remembered the high water marks on the cliffs he had seen from the castle wall. If this tide was high enough, they were in danger of drowning here.

Almost as loud as the incoming tide, Leonel’s laugh echoed in the cavern. “Why should I enlighten you about my methods? But I shall give you one hint and leave you until the Day of Judgement to discover my meaning. Unlike my uncle, who disdained the Infidel, and, you, who were blinded by them, I studied their methods of killing with a critical eye. Do you not remember hearing tales about the Old Man of the Mountain? His men leapt to their deaths from the citadel walls at his whim and exposed their hearts to daggers, after killing the man they were sent to murder. They all faced death with joy.”

“They were promised rewards in paradise.”

“But death must be suffered first, and men are often unreliable when the scythe sweeps toward them. Have you not seen men flee battle? Nay, Sir Hugh, their master found a method of giving courage and, at the same time, blinding them to actual consequences.”

As the roaring sea grew louder, the monk grew more anxious. Surely the baron’s nephew knew the dangers best, he told himself, and Leonel had yet to flee.

Thomas mouthed a silent curse. Although he knew he might delay the knight at the cave entrance, he could never stop a man with a sword. He had no weapon or any way to save his prioress’ brother. Hugh would die. He probably would as well, and Leonel could escape unscathed.

Franticly, he looked around.

“If men are fearful, Sir Hugh, there is a way they may face their terrors, and I learned it in Acre. Encouraging words and promises for the life after death are well enough but rarely suffice. Consider the tales of the assassins and see if you can discover my secret, but I rather doubt you shall on this side of Hell.”

When Hugh replied, the monk could not hear him.

“Surely you do not expect me to remain here, spewing the many details of each exploit like a murderer who hopes for mercy. The waves come closer. I have little time, you even less, so I shall humor you only briefly.

“Drunken priests, who pry when they should be praying, die with few to mourn them. I caught him in my chambers where he discovered evidence of my uncle’s illness. When he swore to tell the family, I tried to dissuade him. I needed more time for my purpose. He was strangely obstinate. A pillow was sufficient to my task and took but a little while.

“With Umfrey, I was forced to act with ill-considered speed, but my plan was to suggest his death had been self-murder. As the soldier’s whore, how could he continue bearing the shame and taunting over his loss of manhood?” He roared with merriment. “If your monk had not seen me leave the chapel, the ploy would have been another success.”

“And now you have killed Raoul…”

“No more questions, my lord. It’s a pity I arrived just after my cousin drove his sword through your heart. When he refused to surrender and tried to run away, I shot him with my crossbow. I grieve he could not be brought to the king’s justice, but I dared not allow such a heinous murderer to flee. Indeed, the truth of the matter is that I barely escaped death in Lucifer’s Cauldron myself.”

Thomas almost wept with despair. Although forbidden to wield a sword, he cared little now for the prohibition and wished he had a sharp blade in hand.

Suddenly, he saw a possible solution: a large stone lay on the ground. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. His spirit brightened with hope.

“I’ll allow you to ask God to forgive your sins first, Sir Hugh, but pray quickly. The tide comes in.” Leonel raised his sword.