“What did his father say about him?”
“That he was tiresome. Even as a babe, Raoul crawled after Baron Herbert like a slobbering pup. When the baron took the cross, the lad beseeched him to take him too, although he was too young for a man’s vows. Raoul would not accept the understandable refusal. Finally, his father lost his temper and…”
“You told me about the public humiliation of his son.” Eleanor lowered her gaze, hoping to hide her sadness over the mockery of a child. As she remembered other sons, roughly treated by their fathers, she knew it was possible that Raoul could wish for revenge. “Did he hate his father for this?”
Hugh turned away, went to a window, and looked out at the grey-misted island. He leaned against the thick wall, pressing the side of his head against it as if seeking comfort in the undoubted firmness of stone. “I do not know, for I never saw him again until you and I came here at his father’s request.”
Eleanor watched her brother and grieved over the change in him since he had left for Acre. Although his face still brightened with enthusiasm, as it did when he was a greener youth, melancholy too often chased all light from his soul. She walked over and clasped his hand, keeping her touch tender with love.
He squeezed her hand affectionately, then pointed toward the uneven surface of the island behind the castle walls. “Raoul might be out there.”
She squinted against the force of the wind. “Where on such a storm-blasted island might he hide or find shelter?”
“There are burrows and hillocks big enough to keep a small man safe against the gales. Also ledges of rock with small caves near the sea. Having followed us and watched when we hunted for bird eggs or played at being knights besieging a castle, he should know all the places. Perhaps more than we did. We did not always see him spying on us.”
“Especially when you had willing lasses whom you took to some secluded spot?”
Hugh’s eyes grew merry with her jest. He looked down at his sister and whispered: “You have put a balm on my hurt pride and chased away my anger. While Leonel searches the castle, I shall seek Raoul on the island and in the cove.”
“Take care,” she replied, “and may God be with you.”
As she watched him walk away, she was filled with doubt and fear. Were Leonel and her brother seeking the wrong man? Was the murderer sitting in his dark chamber, waiting for the capture of his guiltless son who might have little proof of innocence?
And if Raoul had killed his brothers out of jealousy, greed, or revenge, why would he remain nearby? Surely he would leave England entirely to escape hanging.
She grew more confused, unable to see clearly and find the answer that resolved everything. Why would Raoul even commit all these murders? Surely he knew he would be the obvious suspect after so many deaths. He would have to flee and could never become his father’s heir. Had he not wanted the inheritance but only revenge against his father for the cruelty he had suffered? She was dissatisfied with that conclusion.
Her thoughts swirled like a flock of birds, unable to find a place to land and settle into a logical form. She found no reasonable motive for the youngest son. If all the siblings died and Raoul was forced to flee as their murderer, Leonel would become the heir, a man his father loved more than any son.
That brought her back to the baron as the strongest suspect. Yet his cries of pain over the disappearance of his last son suggested a man who still cared for his progeny despite his disapproval of them. Could a man so rigid in his thinking be so clever in dissembling?
The many questions were like weeds, catching at her wits and tripping her before she could see the path to the solution. Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she felt as if the sea mist had befuddled her reason. Surely not, yet something had and she had little time left to regain her wits.
The prioress looked down the corridor, hoping to catch a comforting last glimpse of her eldest brother. But he had disappeared, gone to seek Baron Herbert’s youngest son, a creature who had never found a place in his father’s heart.
That was still a fact she could not easily set aside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sea wind howled, reeking of salt, and honed sharp by northern ice. To keep warm, Eleanor tucked her arms deep into her woolen sleeves and hunched forward as she hurried down the damp, narrow stairs from the chapel. She must take a cup of wine to chase away this chill, she thought, and entered the corridor surrounding the Great Hall.
She had jousted wits with liegemen of the Prince of Darkness often enough, but never had she felt his dark power so strongly. Without Brother Thomas and Sister Anne, she might have been overwhelmed by it, no matter how much she prayed for strength. She did not like this feeling of weakness and confusion.
Although she was not a fanciful woman, and believed that evil wore mortal flesh, she wondered if this fortress was enchanted. Had her brother not visited here in happier times, she might have concluded that their innocent party had stumbled into a mythical castle like knights often did in tales of King Arthur’s time. She abhorred and feared this sensation of being powerless, as if a spell had been cast.
Eleanor clenched her jaw. The perpetrator of these crimes was as clever as he was wicked. If this was a test for her, she was resolved to meet it. “Failure is unacceptable,” she muttered with new determination, but now a cup of wine and a few minutes in front of the fireplace were required. Her body and spirit had been rendered insensate by the cold.
Entering the hall, her spirit lightened.
Brother Thomas stood by the fireplace, staring into a goblet. His robe was mottled with damp, yet he seemed oblivious to any discomfort.
She slowed, noted his grim expression, and suspected the good monk might share her relief were she to announce that they would return to Tyndal Priory on the morrow. Calling out to him, she was warmed by how quickly his eyes lost their sadness when he recognized his prioress.
He bowed.
Anticipating the comfort his presence always brought her, she smiled.
A voice shattered her pleasure. “My lady!”
Turning, Eleanor saw Sir Leonel rushing toward them. His sodden woolen cloak clung to him. Odors of leather, wet sheep, and sweat grew strong as he came nearer.
She tensed with apprehension. Had Raoul been captured? Was he alive? She hoped that there had not been one more tragedy for this family to endure.
“I was on my way to Baron Herbert until I saw you here.” Leonel gasped the words as he caught his breath.
There was a troubled note in his voice. Had something happened to her brother? Despite her will to remain stern, she began to tremble.
Sir Leonel stepped closer. “You are chilled!” He reached out for her arm, as if to steady her, but pulled back before his fingers touched and did not commit the grave offense.
But his warm breath did brush her cheek. Her knees grew weak. Why had she not conquered her susceptibility to this man? She looked up at him and instantly knew that had been a mistake. Her eyes surely betrayed her longing.
The knight gazed back, a curious light dancing in his eyes.
“You have finished searching the castle grounds for Raoul?” Thomas put his goblet aside.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the monk was now at her side. Not only had she sinned with lust for this knight, she feared she had betrayed herself to the one person she did not want to know of it. Anger and humiliation swirled into a lethal mix and burned her face with shame.
“I did fail to find him.” Leonel ignored Thomas and smiled at Eleanor, leaning against the wall as he watched her.
She shut her eyes.
“I had hoped to ask your brother some questions. Sadly, I cannot find him.” He rubbed at a spot on his chest just over his heart.
Taking a deep breath for control, she forced herself to turn to her monk. “Have you seen Sir Hugh since we all met last?”
Brother Thomas shook his head and scowled at the knight. The red slash on his cheek throbbed in the shimmering firelight.
“He has gone on his own search,” she replied, looking down at the stone floor.
“I tried to persuade him otherwise.” Sir Leonel’s teeth flashed white as he grinned. “But I should not be surprised. He has never been a man to sit idle when there is danger.” He paused, and his brow furrowed. “We did not meet in our separate hunts. More’s the pity.”
Eleanor nodded, not trusting her voice to speak without breaking.
He rubbed at one eye which made him look as if he had winked.
Eleanor felt lightheaded, almost giddy. What was happening to her? She could not concentrate, then caught herself wondering why his eyes were grey in this light. She thought they had been violet.
“Your brother bested us all at the chase in Outremer, my lady. He always knew where the quarry might hide.” He turned to look toward the corridor and almost struck Brother Thomas. “I did not see you,” he said and offered an apology.
The monk muttered acceptance, but his eyes flashed with displeasure.
“He might well find Raoul.” Leonel turned back to face the prioress, his expression worried. “Do you know where he might have gone?”
Brother Thomas cleared his throat.
“He would have been wise to take you with him, Brother.” Sir Leonel spun around and slapped him on the shoulder. “A monk’s prayers are useful.”
Thomas stepped back.
“Do you have reason to fear for Hugh’s safety?” Eleanor reached behind her with one hand and felt the edge of a table. Pressing against it, she tried to recover some of her strength from the comforting wood.
The knight looked away.
“If so, please tell me.”
“I am not accusing my cousin, my lady. He is surely innocent of all wrong, but, if he is not, I fear him. When cornered, Raoul is like a wounded boar, dangerous and willing to chance anything to escape. Were I to accompany Sir Hugh, we would be stronger together and less likely, either of us, to be injured.
Brother Thomas gestured for permission to speak. “My lady, if I may say…”
“And your prayers to God on our behalf would surely add strength to our cause!” Leonel again tapped the monk on the shoulder, the gesture oddly dismissive although he quickly drew back his hand and gestured with polite appeal. Then he smiled at Eleanor. “Please tell me where your brother has gone so I might join him. I shall take a few soldiers along as well. Methinks that would be wise.”
Nodding, she repeated all Hugh had said about hiding places on the island and the cove.
“Ah, yes, the cove.” Leonel murmured gratitude. “I humbly beg you both for prayers.” He bowed and without waiting for reply, rushed away, leaving behind a scent of musk and leather before he strode through an open door to the corridor and disappeared.
Eleanor felt as if she had just recovered from a virulent fever. Even the table against which she pressed felt as insubstantial as the outside mist. Truly she must be bewitched, she thought, and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
“Are you ill, my lady?” Brother Thomas’ brow was creased with concern.
Sick enough with guilt, she thought. Indeed, she would have felt better if she had broken out in spots from some pox. “I have caught a mild chill,” she replied. “Perhaps we should request some mulled wine to warm us both.”
The monk gestured to a servant who hurried off to obtain the needed drink.
In silence, the two religious stared into the large fire that crackled with fiendish intensity. As Eleanor rubbed her hands to bring feeling back, she swallowed her pride. “I seek your opinion, Brother.”
He nodded, his expression lacking all condemnation of what he might have guessed.
How kind he is, she thought. “Although wickedness lives amongst us always, I feel an excess of Satan’s influence in this place. The recent events would support that conclusion. But, if he is so all-present, why can we not see him clearly?”
Thomas looked away from her and toward the windows in the corridor just beyond the hearth fire’s domain. “I, too, am aware of the Prince of Darkness’ presence, my lady.” For a long time he was silent, but, when he looked back at her, his eyes were sad. “The Evil One is a creature of unsurpassed beauty. Perhaps the brightness of his countenance has so blinded us that we cannot see him well enough to recognize who he is.”