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.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hugh rode slowly across the fragile, narrow strip joining island to the mainland. Although he understood the defensive merit, he had never liked this entrance to the castle, even in the summer season when the sea lapped at the land like a gentle hound drinking water. The rock may have been there for longer than any man’s life, but he always felt it vibrate when he was on it.
Looking down at his mare, he knew the creature shared his apprehension. She tugged at the reins as if urging a quick trot. With the road slippery with seawater and mud, Hugh refused to comply and demanded a continuation of their cautious pace.
A white wave rose over the side of the rock and broke across the path in front of him. The mare neighed in terror and drew back. Hugh stroked her neck and bent to whisper in her ear as he waited. The water quickly slid back into the sea, taking with it bits of earth as hostage.
The mare snorted with renewed impatience, and he realized without looking that the beast’s eyes were white with fear. Keeping a firm grip on the reins, he allowed her to move on with prudent speed.
He might share her dismay, Hugh thought, but knew not to let the mare sense his own uneasiness as they crossed the narrowest part of the road. To keep his thoughts from the jagged rocks on either side, he began to enumerate all the locations he had just searched on the island. Then he listed them all over again.
He was confident that he had not missed any of the secret places he had known as a boy. Over time, some of the covered ledges had collapsed into the sea and the shallow caves made inaccessible. In other places, the winds had gouged deeper hollows, making the caves better shelters for any living creature. Yet Raoul was in none of them, nor had Hugh found any evidence that a man had sought shelter there, however briefly.
Unlike the summers he recalled from his youth, there were no flowers bent with the weight of heavy bees and flashing radiant colors to delight him. The grim winter storms had blackened the island grass with salted mists and frozen shrubs into tortured shapes, bare of life or even a promise of it.
Had he not known that this would change in time, he would have believed that Hell had arrived on earth and bore no resemblance to the fiery furnace of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Instead, it was as barren as the mountains of eternal ice those men, who had come to Outremer from the northern lands, often spoke about. These warriors had claimed that the ice rose so high a mortal could not see the summits, and he had found no cause to doubt them.
His mare stumbled, then quickly recovered. Hugh was startled back into the present, but the shock had chased away his gloomy thoughts. As he looked around, he felt relief. He was now on the mainland and approached the sparse forest that lay between the castle and the main road. Taking in a deep breath of sharp air, he looked over his shoulder.
The castle was almost invisible in the mist. After facing death so often in combat, he did not consider himself a man prone to womanish notions, but he shivered nonetheless. There was something unearthly about the place. “I should never have agreed to this journey,” he murmured to the mare.
It was one thing to endanger himself. He had no wife, his son was now well-placed, and his younger brother was a far worthier steward of family lands than he would ever be. To have led his sister, her healer, and Master Gamel into danger was another matter. He would never forgive himself if harm came to them. As for Brother Thomas, he could not grieve over his fate. If the monk died, Hugh was sure the Devil would rejoice when he took one of his own back to Hell.