"Aye." Gareth braced his elbow on the arm of the heavy oak chair and rested his chin on the heel of his hand. He never relished this aspect of the business. "Young men of that age are easier to control and more easily impressed than are their elders. They do not question commands.
Or a magician's tricks."
"De Valemont no doubt used a combination of terror and promises of knighthood and a fortune to lure them into his service. Tis an old and much-proven technique for recruiting young men."
"My lady wife wishes me to show mercy." Gareth gazed moodily at the prisoners. "She has bid me set them free."
"So I have heard. Indeed, my lord, the entire hall is aware of Lady Clare's, ah, request."
"I knew she would not be able to keep the matter private."
"I believe the rumors started when a serving maid found Lady Clare asleep in the wardrobe this morning."
Gareth tapped his forefinger against his set jaw and said nothing.
Ulrich politely cleared his throat. "Mayhap your gentle lady feels sorry for these men because they are not much older than Dalian. I'm surprised she feels equally charitable toward the would-be thieves we caught at the harbor, however. There is no denying they are a seasoned lot."
"She would have me banish them all and bid them good fortune in their next endeavors."
"Women are inclined to be softhearted, especially those who have not had much experience with violence."
"She says she does not want Abbess Helen to arrive on our fair isle to find seven corpses twisting in the scented breezes."
"Something tells me our lady abbess has seen worse in her time," Ulrich murmured.
"True. In any event, if we get on with the matter, we can be rid of the corpses before the abbess arrives." Gareth watched the four knights come to a halt in front of his chair.
They were not only young, they were scared and trying hard to conceal the fear behind masks of stoic defiance. Gareth nodded once to the guards, who stepped back a pace. Then he looked straight at the eldest of the young men.
"You. What is'your name?"
"Sir Robert."
"Where is your hall?"
Robert hesitated and then shrugged. "I do not have a hall now that Lord Lucretius is dead."
"You have no family?"
"Nay, my lord."
"Your parents?"
Robert looked puzzled by the line of questioning. "I never knew my father. My mother died at my birth."
Gareth glanced at the next young knight. "And you? What is your name?
Where is your family's hall?"
"My name is John." There was a slight tremor in John's voice. He took a deep breath and managed to control it. "I was the magician's sworn man.
Now that he is dead, I do not have a hall."
"I believe I see a pattern here," Ulrich said softly.
"Aye." Gareth looked at the remaining two knights. "Do either of you have families? A hall?"
Both shook their heads.
"If it pleases you, my lord." Robert took a single step forward.
Gareth glanced at him. "What is it?"
"None of us has any relatives or friends who will ransom us. All that we possess was given to us by the magician. Our armor and our swords are the only things of value that we own." Robert's mouth was a tight, grim line. His eyes held fierce pride as well as fear. "And you have already stripped them from us. You may as well get on with the hanging."
"In good time, Sir Robert, in good time. Death always comes soon enough for most." Gareth motioned for the guards to take the knights back to their makeshift prison.
Ulrich clasped his hands behind his back and waited until the hall was empty once more. Then he looked at Gareth. "Do you wish to question the bowmen we caught at the harbor, my lord?"
"Nay. There is nothing new to be learned from them. They are typical of their kind. Freebooters who hired themselves out to the magician on the promise of easy plunder."
"Masterless men."
"Aye." Gareth got to his feet. "Men without villages or families."
"Such men are always dangerous. Best to hang them quickly and be done with it."
"Aye." Gareth walked to a nearby table where he had spread out an assortment of items that he and Dalian had discovered in Lucretius de Valemont's cloak. "Have you seen this yet, Ulrich?"
"Nay." Ulrich crossed to the table. He looked down at the handful of tiny slivers of metal floating in a bowl of water. "What are they?"
"Dalian tells me that de Valemont called them his iron fish. Watch."
Gareth dipped a finger into the water and spun the small iron slivers in a circle. When the water settled, so did the iron fish. "Notice that they are pointing in the same direction in which they pointed before I disturbed the water."
Ulrich frowned. "What of it?"
"They are pointing north, my friend. Always north. It is the mysterious device the magician used to guide his hired thieves to the isle in the fog. He would have used it again to make his escape."
"Iron fish?"
"I heard of such a few years ago," Gareth said. "I read about them again in Sir Humphrey's book. But this is the first time I have actually seen a device that uses them.
Amazing, is it not?"
"Aye." Ulrich stabbed a finger into the water and ruffled the surface of the liquid. He watched, fascinated, as the slivers realigned themselves. "Most interesting."
"Sir Humphrey's book says that the invention comes from China. As does the recipe for the sulfur and charcoal powder that we used to route de Valemont's men."
"What of these other objects?" Ulrich picked up a round, polished sphere.
"A mirror. Dalian says de Valemont used it to signal messages to his men on occasion." Gareth picked up a ring of oddly shaped keys. "He used these to open locks of all kinds."
"Ah. So that is how he got through the convent gates and into the library."
"Aye." Gareth dropped the keys back onto the table. "And how he managed to relock the recluse's cell after he had carried her body back into it."
"This is all quite interesting, sir, and knowing you, I'm sure you will be occupied for days playing with the magician's bag of tricks. But what am I to do about our prisoners in the meantime? Shall I see that they are dispatched immediately?"
"Nay. Hold off awhile longer. I may think of some more questions to ask them."
Gareth was aware of Ulrich's amused gaze resting on him as he walked out of the hall. As usual, he did not comprehend the jest.
The fog that had shrouded the isle for the past two days had finally cleared. The courtyard was humming with activity.
William and Dalian dashed to and fro, carrying out Eadgar's instructions and assisting the servants. As he went down the steps, Gareth saw two of his men-at-arms come through the open gate. They were laden with armfuls of fresh flowers. The sight of his hardened warriors buried in blossoms made him grin briefly.
His amusement faded as he crossed the courtyard to Clare's workrooms.
He could have forced her to return to the bed last night, of course. He was a lot bigger and a lot stronger than she was. It would have been a simple matter to fetch her out of the wardrobe. But he had been too annoyed to do so. He had told himself that a night spent on the hard floor, wrapped in a quilt, would teach her a lesson.
It was unfortunate that the serving maid had entered the wardrobe chamber earlier than usual. Clare had still been sound asleep.
Gareth had been awake, however. To his disgust, he had slept little during the night. Three times he had wandered into the wardrobe to adjust the quilt over Clare's shoulders.
It was one thing to let her sleep on the hard stone floor. It was another to let her take a chill. He had no intention of allowing her to risk her health while she did battle with him. He had a duty as a husband to see to it that she did not become ill through her foolish actions.