Finally, Archibald would have the borderland, and perhaps in time, he would control the whole of the marchland. With Chadwick in his right hand and Glouston in his left, he would have power at court that would rival that of the Duke of Rochelle.
Looking down at the old, gray-haired man in his fine traveling clothes, Archibald almost felt sorry for him. Once, long ago, the marquis had enjoyed a reputation for cleverness and fortitude. Such distinction came with his title. The marquis was no mere noble, nor was he a simple sheriff of the land, like an earl or a count. Victor had been responsible for guarding the king’s borders. This was a serious duty, which required a capable leader, an ever-vigilant man tested in battle. However, times had changed, and peaceful neighbors now bordered Warric, such that the great guard had become complacent, and his strength had withered from lack of use.
As Victor opened the letters, Archibald contemplated his future. The marquis was right. He was after the land that came with his daughter. Still, Alenda was attractive, and the thought of forcing her to his bed was more than a little appealing.
“Archibald, is this a joke?” Victor questioned.
Startled from his thoughts, Archibald set down his drink. “What do you mean?”
“These parchments are blank.”
“What? Are you blind? They’re—” Archibald stopped when he saw the empty pages in the marquis’s hand. He grabbed a handful of letters and tore them open, only to find still more blank parchments. “This is impossible!”
“Perhaps they were written in disappearing ink?” Victor smirked.
“No … I don’t understand … These aren’t even the same parchments!” He rechecked the safe but found it empty. His confusion turned to panic and he tore open the door, calling anxiously for Bruce. The master-at-arms rushed in, his sword at the ready. “What happened to the letters I had in this safe?” Archibald shouted at the soldier.
“I—I don’t know, my lord,” Bruce replied. He sheathed his weapon and stood at attention before the earl.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Have you left your post at all this evening?”
“No, sir, of course not.”
“Did anyone, anyone at all, enter my study during my absence?”
“No, my lord, that’s impossible. You hold the only key.”
“Then where in Maribor’s name are those letters? I put them there myself. I was reading them when the marquis arrived. I was only gone a few minutes. How could they disappear like that?”
Archibald’s mind raced. He had held them in his hands only moments ago. He had locked them in the safe. He was convinced of that fact.
Where had they gone?
Victor drained his glass and stood. “If you don’t mind, Archie, I’ll be leaving now. This has been a tremendous waste of my time.”
“Victor, wait. Don’t go. The letters are real. I assure you I had them!”
“But of course you did, Archie. The next time you plan to blackmail me, I suggest you provide a better bluff.” He crossed the room, passed through the door, and disappeared down the stairs.
“You had better consider what I said, Victor,” Archibald yelled after him. “I’ll find those letters. I will! I’ll bring them to Aquesta! I’ll present them at court!”
“What do you want me to do, my lord?” Bruce asked.
“Just wait, you fool. I have to think.” Archibald ran his trembling fingers through his hair as he began to pace around the room. He reexamined the letters closely. They were indeed a different grade of parchment than the ones he had read so many times before.
Despite his certainty he had placed the letters in the safe, he began pulling out the drawers and riffling through the parchments on his desk. Archibald poured himself another drink and crossed the room. Ripping the screen from the fireplace, he probed the ashes with a poker to search for any telltale signs of parchment remains. In frustration, Archibald threw the blank letters into the fire. He drained his drink in one long swallow and collapsed into one of the chairs.
“They were just here,” Archibald said, puzzled. Slowly, a solution began to form in his mind. “Bruce, the letters must have been stolen. The thief could not have gotten far. I want you to search the entire castle. Seal every exit. Don’t let anyone out. Not the staff or any of the guards—no one leaves. Search everyone!”
“Right away, my lord,” Bruce responded, and then paused. “What about the marquis, my lord? Shall I stop him as well?”
“Of course not, you idiot, he doesn’t have the letters.”
Archibald stared into the fire, listening to Bruce’s footsteps fade away as he ran down the tower stairs. Alone, he had only the sound of the crackling flames and a hundred unanswered questions. He racked his brain but could not determine exactly how the thief had managed it.
“Your Lordship?” The timid voice of the steward roused him from his thoughts. Archibald glared up at the man who poked his head through the open door, causing the steward to take an extra breath before speaking. “My lord, I hate to disturb you, but there seems to be a problem down in the courtyard that requires your attention.”