Chapter 34
Lothaire would not have guessed who sought to once more render the jailer unconscious, but there could be no doubt who did Lady Raisa’s bidding.
The man was seen entering the dungeon an hour ahead of the prisoners’ escape. Not that there was anything unusual about that since he and Nigel sometimes visited each other during the daylight hours and often met at night at a tavern in Thistle Cross where they tipped tankards of ale and patted and pinched serving girls.
Unfortunately for Nigel, his drinking companion was not above endangering the jailer’s position. A half hour after he received this man bearing gifts, the perpetrator departed the dungeon. Shortly thereafter, amid the dusk of approaching night, the three prisoners stealthily exited. And Lothaire’s men were rewarded for their vigilance.
The prisoners were returned to their cells, and all attempts to rouse the jailer were for naught, his head on the table alongside a decimated platter of viands and an overturned cup.
“The last time you were such a good friend to Nigel,” Lothaire said, “it was by the same means, hmm?”
Having not moved from the chickens spitted over a cooking fire since his lord entered the kitchen and ordered the other servants to leave, Cook stared out of twitching eyes.
Advancing on him, Lothaire said, “I am guessing the first time Nigel himself dealt the blows to hide the fact he imbibed too much and slept through the escape.”
The tip of the poker with which the man had been shifting the logs rose.
“But he did not sleep through the escape, did he? Something in his food or drink rendered him as unconscious then as he is now. This time is different only in that the prisoners were recaptured.”
The poker rose higher, and Angus and the other men at their lord’s back drew nearer.
Cook was no easy prey. He was of middling years and nearly as tall and muscular as his lord. Still, Lothaire did not doubt he could better the man who likely had little if any training at arms. As for his brawling over women that sometimes broke bones as easily as chairs and tables, Lothaire believed himself superior as well, though lacking Wulfen training that might have been questionable.
The cook shifted his regard from Lothaire to his warriors, then lowered the poker’s tip. “I but followed my lady’s orders.”
Lothaire halted before him. Though his eyes were fastened on the other man’s, he remained aware of the poker’s position. “You speak of Lady Raisa.”
“Aye, your lady mother. As ever, I do her bidding, whether it is a special food she requires or…other things.”
“As ever?”
“Since you took Lexeter from her when I was but a kitchen servant.”
“You were paid well, hmm?”
“Well enough.”
Confirmation it was more than loyalty that bound him to Raisa. “Always you receive your orders directly from her?” Lothaire tensed as he waited on the answer that would confirm Sebille and Laura’s belief his mother was not as infirm as she appeared.
“Aye, until…” The man shrugged. “It has been over a year since Lady Sebille began delivering your mother’s private messages.”
“My sister?” Lothaire could not contain his disbelief.
“Aye, the same as she did entreating me to once more engage the men sent to avenge the dishonor dealt you by Lady Beata and Baron Marshal. And again this day to aid in their escape.”
“Your sister could not have known the contents of the missives, my lord,” Angus said. “She must have thought—”
“You are right,” Cook said. “I am sure Lady Sebille believed she but delivered a request for special food or drink.”
“Show me my mother’s messages.”
“I would, but ever I am to burn them after reading. And so I have.”
Inwardly cursing that he could not verify Raisa’s handwriting, Lothaire said, “This is serious what you have done. Your position is lost, mayhap your life.”
“I am but a messenger doing the bidding of my lord’s mother. Where is the death sentence in that, my lord?”
There was threat in his words. Were he to receive punishment for his role in attempting to harm Lady Beata and Baron Marshal, Raisa’s involvement would be exposed. Though she was too old and seemingly infirm to suffer severe punishment, shame would fall upon the family.
Moving slowly as if very aware of the sword Lothaire could easily bring to hand, Cook reached the poker to the side and set it in its stand. “Too, no great ill was ever intended, my lord. Just as those men were but to appear assassins, they had but to appear to threaten the fleece stores.”
“What say you?”
“Your mother likes to cause trouble, my lord. I do not ask why. I but take her coin and make the arrangements.”
Did he speak true? Or was he thinking fast in hopes of lessening his punishment?
Likely the former, Lothaire thought, remembering Sebille had said their mother muttered it was time to stir up more trouble.
The man grunted. “And when there are complications as twice there have been with your prisoners, I rectify the situation ere any can be made to talk.”
“This time you failed.”
“This time was one time too many, just as feared. But coin is a great tempter.”
Lothaire motioned his men forward. “I am sure we shall speak more on this. Until then, you shall become acquainted with the inside of a cell.”
Cook tensed as if to resist.
“Do not,” Lothaire said. “If what you tell is true, the loss of your position should suffice and you will be freed.”
Resentment flashed in the man’s eyes, but his shoulders eased on an exhalation of acceptance. “’Tis true, my lord. Do not forget me in that cell.”
As the men took hold of the cook, Lothaire instructed them to remove him by way of the garden. He did not wish to alarm those in the hall settling in for supper, especially Laura. Though she was not as fragile as she ought to be considering her past had nearly repeated itself last eve, he would not have her worry over what was set in motion. When it ground to a halt would be soon enough for her to learn of the breadth of plotting he would never have thought to find himself in the middle of.
“Angus,” he called as his man followed the others.
“My lord?”
“Ensure Cook’s cell is within speaking distance of the others and discreetly set yourself near to listen. Providing they are not overly cautious, the truth may be known all the sooner.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“It could prove a long night.”
“Whatever is required,” the knight said.
After summoning the kitchen servants from the corridor and informing them urgent business had taken Cook from High Castle, Lothaire set the most experienced over the others and returned to his wife at the high table.