Desire

  Clare walked over to the window. Together she and William looked out into the night and waited for the glow of a torch to appear on the road.

  “I wish we knew what was going on at the harbor,” William said.

  Clare stirred after a while. She peered at the shad owed watchtower. “Does it seem to you that the tower torch is burning low, William?”

  William shifted his glance toward the tower. “Aye. Mayhap Ranulf does not have a spare torch. Shall I go and see if he needs a fresh one?”

  “Nay, I’ll go downstairs to the hall and find Eadgar. He can send one of the servants across to the tower with a fresh torch.”

  Clare turned toward the door, grateful for something to do.

  “Will you ask Eadgar to bring us something to eat?” William said with a hopeful look. “I vow, I am starved.”

  Clare smiled. “Very well.” She made to open the door.

  “Lady Clare, come quickly.” William’s voice was sharp with fear.

  Clare whirled around. She saw that William had both hands planted on the windowsill. He was staring down at the courtyard.

  “What is it?” She asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Come see. There are men in the courtyard. But the gate is still closed.”

  “By Saint Hermione’s needle.” Clare hurried across the chamber. “What are you talking about? Is Lord Gareth back?”

  “’Tis not Lord Gareth and his men. These are strangers.” William turned a shocked face toward her. “They were not there a moment ago. You and I both saw that the courtyard was empty. And no one has opened the gate. This is truly magic.”

  Joanna dropped her embroidery. Her face was stark with terror. “The magician.”

  Clare reached the window and stared down at the torchlit courtyard. She could hardly believe what she saw. Half a dozen men armed with swords and dressed in black hooded cloaks strode toward the front steps of the hall.

  Several of the men had the edges of their cloaks pushed back over their shoulders. Torchlight glinted on their mail.

  The leader of the group held a familiar figure in front of him, a dagger at his throat.

  “’Tis Dallan,” William whispered. “He’s captured Dallan.”

  “Dear God.” Joanna’s voice cracked.

  The man who held Dallan signaled to one of the others. A cloaked figure went up the steps and pounded on the front door of the hall with the hilt of his sword.

  “Open in the name of the Grand Master of the Order of the Star Stone. Open or die.”

  Clare gripped the window ledge with shaking fingers. She leaned out. “Who goes there?”

  The man who held Dallan at dagger point looked up at the open window. He threw back his hood and smiled.

  Clare found herself gazing down at the man she had once known as Raymond de Coleville.

  “Good evening to you, Lady Clare,” Lucretius’s polished voice and flashing grin were as charming as ever.

  Clare stared down at him, unwilling for an instant to believe that he was actually there inside the wall.

  But she could not deny the truth.

  The fiery light of the torches cast an evil glow on Lucretius’s handsome, falcon-sharp features. He was slender and graceful, just as she remembered, a devastatingly attractive man with long, tapered fingers. His black cloak swirled around him like the ebony wings of a great bird of prey.

  “How did you get inside the wall?” Clare demanded.

  “What a foolish question. I am a magician.” Lucretius’s smile was brilliant. “Open your hall, madam. I want the book that this foolish boy failed to bring to me.”

  “Don’t do it, Lady Clare,” Dallan shouted. “Don’t let him inside.” He broke off, choking, as Lucretius squeezed his arm around his throat.

  Clare watched Lucretius’s face carefully. “If you are indeed a great magician, sir, why do you not simply materialize inside my hall and take the book?”

  Lucretius continued to smile. “Materializing and de-materializing are hard work, madam, even for a magician as accomplished as myself. I would prefer to do this in the simplest manner.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “You will bring me your father’s recipe book, or I shall kill your minstrel here and now.” The dagger in Lucretius’s hand glinted. “And then I shall enter your hall and kill your people one by one in front of your eyes until you choose to bring me the book.”

  “Let him kill me, Lady Clare,” Dallan pleaded. “I beg you, let him kill me. You must not open the hall to him.”

  Lucretius’s smile was cold. “I congratulate you, Clare. I did not believe that you could win young Dallan to your service so easily, but obviously he is now devoted to you. I thought the boy had enough wit to know better than to turn against me, but apparently he does not.”

  “Don’t give him the book,” Dallan cried. “I don’t care if he kills me.”

  Lucretius did not take his eyes off Clare. “You do not know your lady very well, boy. She is too softhearted. She will never allow you to die for the sake of a mere book. Is that not right Clare? No book is worth the death of one you care about, is it?”

  “Nay,” Clare said quickly. “I will bring you the book if you will promise to release Dallan.”

  “You may have your minstrel back as soon as I have Sir Humphrey’s book. The clumsy boy was never of much use, anyway.”

  “Very well, I shall drop the book down to you from this window,” Clare said.

  “Nay, madam. You will bring it to me. I want you as well as the book.”

  “Me? Why do you want me?”

  “I am a prudent man. I desire a more useful hostage than Dallan to ensure my escape. You are going to accompany me until I am safely off Desire.”

  “But why?” Clare asked desperately.

  “Something tells me that the Hellhound will bargain more seriously for your life than he will for the boy’s. You are vastly more important to Sir Gareth, are you not? After all, you are the source of the wealth of this isle.”

  “I will bring you the book.” Clare whirled away from the window and ran to the door.

  “Clare, you must not open the hall door,” Joanna said. “You will risk all our lives.”

  William’s eyes were huge. “Maybe he truly is a magician. If that is so, we are doomed.”

  “That is ridiculous. He is no magician. There is no such thing as true magic. Lord Gareth had the right of it. Lucretius is merely a clever alchemist.” Clare opened the door and raced down the hall to her study chamber.

  Joanna and William followed.

  “William, bring me a large pouch that has a flap,” Clare said.

  “Aye.” William took off in the other direction.

  Clare dashed into the study chamber and grabbed the heavy leather-bound book off the shelf. She unlocked the clasp and reached for a nearby urn of dried flowers.

  Joanna stared at her. “What are you doing?”

  “This mixture contains a large amount of mugwort.” Clare sprinkled several handfuls of the dried concoction inside the heavy covers of the book. “The magician does not care for mugwort. It makes him sneeze uncontrollably.”

  William appeared in the door. “Here’s the pouch, Clare.”

  “Give it to me.” Clare took the bag from him. She emptied the remaining contents of the urn into the pouch. Then she closed the flap and slung the leather bag over her shoulder. She picked up the book in both hands. “Lucretius will want to see the book before it goes into the pouch in order to be certain that he had not been tricked.”

  “Clare, please do not do this, I beg you,” Joanna whispered. “’Tis much too dangerous.”

  Clare looked at her. “I shall go out alone. Close the door and bar it behind me the instant I have stepped onto the steps. Do not open it until Lucretius and his men have gone.”

  “But what about you?” Joanna wailed.

  “Lord Gareth will soon realize what has happened. He will return to retake the hall. And then he will come for me.
” Clare smiled wistfully. “The magician is right. I do have a certain value to the Hellhound. These lands would not be nearly so profitable without me.”

  She went quickly past Joanna and William. Her soft boots made no sound on the stone floor of the corridor as she raced toward the tower stairs.

  Downstairs in the main hall she found Eadgar and the servants huddled near the hearth. Their faces were stark with fear.

  “Unbar the door, Eadgar,” Clare said.

  “But my lady—”

  “Please do as I say.”

  “Aye, my lady.” Eadgar bowed his head and went to the door.

  Eunice and Agnes wrung their hands.

  Eadgar raised the heavy iron bar that secured the front door.

  Clare stepped out into the night. “Close the door, Eadgar. Hurry.”

  The door swung shut behind her. She heard the bar drop back into place.

  She had never felt so alone in her life.

  “You have the book?” Lucretius asked.

  “Aye.” Clare held it up so that he could see the volume. “And a pouch to carry it.” She raised the flap of the pouch and dropped the book inside. It settled amid the mugwort mixture. “Now release Dallan.”

  “Come to me, Clare,” Lucretius commanded.

  “Nay,” Dallan pleaded.

  Clare started down the steps.

  At that instant a hail of fiery arrows arced down into the courtyard. The black-cloaked knights yelled in warning and confusion.

  “What in the name of the devil?” Lucretius’s cloak swung wide as he turned around to see what was happening.

  Gareth and his men appeared on the roof of Clare’s workrooms. Three of them held bows.

  “Gareth,” Clare whispered.

  “Damned Hellhound,” Lucretius muttered. He thrust Dallan out of his way. “Take them, men,” he shouted. “They are no match for the Knights of the Star Stone. Take them now, I command you.”

  Swords drawn, the cloaked knights started warily toward the workrooms.

  Before they had gone more than three paces, the fire arrows that had landed nearby in the courtyard exploded in a series of thunderclaps.

  “What magic is this?” One of the men yelled.

  Thick smoke, denser than any fog, billowed aloft into the torchlit night, obscuring the scene.

  A man screamed.

  Dallan ran up the steps to Clare’s side. He stared in wonder. “‘Tis Lord Gareth’s sulfur and charcoal recipe, my lady. We told you that it worked.”

  “Aye,” Clare said. “So you did. You did not mention that you had discovered a use for it.”

  Another round of thunder shook the yard. Panic set in among the cloaked knights. Screams echoed above the din of exploding arrows.

  “’Tis the damned Hellhound who is the true magician,” one knight shouted. “Run for your lives.”

  More smoke rolled across the courtyard. Lucretius suddenly appeared from the thick of it. He lurched toward the hall steps, his hand reaching out to grasp Clare.

  “Do not dare to touch her.” Dallan caught Clare’s hand and yanked her out of Lucretius’s reach.

  “Aye, heed him well, magician.” Gareth’s voice was a dark, disembodied command that could have issued from the mouth of hell itself. “Do not dare to put your hands on my wife.”

  In the glow of the torchlight, Clare saw the clouds of smoke swirl and part. Gareth came toward the steps, striding through the hellish mist as though he were the hellhound men called him.

  Lucretius stared at him. “What strange alchemy is this? What secrets have you learned from the book, bastard? What have you wrought here?”

  Gareth’s teeth flashed in a smile that would have done credit to the devil. “What’s the matter, magician? Did you think you were the only knight who knew how to read?”

  18

  All would have been well if William had not rushed out onto the hall steps at that point. Joanna was right behind him.

  “William, come back here,” Joanna screamed.

  “Clare, Clare, are you all right?” William shouted.

  Before Gareth could intervene, the boy careened straight into Lucretius.

  The magician proved immediately how he had gotten at least a portion of his formidable reputation. He grabbed William with a deft movement.

  “One shield is as good as another.” With one hand Lucretius dragged his struggling victim back against himself. He unsheathed his sword with his free hand. “Stay back, Hellhound.”

  Joanna cried out and collapsed in a dead faint in the doorway. No one paid any attention. Out of the corner of his eye, Gareth saw Clare impulsively start forward toward Lucretius.

  “Do as he says,” Gareth said. “Stay back.”

  Clare halted and stared at him with a desperate expression. “Gareth—”

  Gareth looked at Lucretius. “The best you can hope for at this juncture is to escape the isle with the damned book, Lucretius.”

  Lucretius smiled grimly. “‘Tis all I ever wanted in the first place. Dallan, you stupid little cur, toss the pouch to me.”

  Dallan looked at Gareth.

  “Do it,” Gareth said.

  Dallan picked up the leather pouch and tossed it toward Lucretius, who managed to grab it without releasing William.

  Lucretius slung the long strap over his opposite shoulder so that the pouch hung crosswise across his body. “There. I have everything I need. Now all I must do is vanish.”

  “Through the hidden door in the old curtain wall that one of the stonemasons built for you?” Gareth asked softly.

  “So you reasoned that out, did you?” Lucretius chuckled. “The man owed me a favor. His life, to be precise. Constructing the secret entrance in your wall was the price I put on his continued existence.”

  “Very clever, magician. But you had best hurry. My men have almost subdued the last of your knights. You have only the smoke and fog to cover your retreat.”

  Lucretius assessed the situation with a single glance at the smoke-shrouded courtyard. It was impossible to see much of what was happening, but it was clear that the clash of swords was lessening rapidly. Ulrich’s voice could be heard above the din, demanding that the invaders yield.

  Lucretius looked at Clare. “I would rather have a more certain shield. Come here, Clare. I shall exchange young William for you.”

  “No,” Gareth said. “You do not need her. You have my word that I will not stop you from leaving this courtyard.”

  “Forgive me if I do not trust the depth of your feelings for this boy,” Lucretius said. “But I know that you will most certainly think carefully before you risk your lady’s neck. Clare is, after all, the most valuable member of your household, is she not? Without her, the flowers of Desire are worthless. Clare, come here at once.”

  “Clare, no,” Gareth said roughly. He felt his stomach clench with fear.

  “’Tis for the best, my lord,” Clare said. “Trust me.”

  She went calmly down the steps.

  Lucretius did not hesitate. He released William, grabbed Clare, and crooked his arm around her throat.

  Then he retreated swiftly into the haze that filled the courtyard.

  “Damn your soul to hell, magician.” Rage lanced through Gareth, hot and fierce. He moved to follow Lucretius and Clare.

  “My lord, wait.” William caught hold of Gareth’s arm.

  “Go back inside the hall.” The damned magician was already disappearing into the smoke, Gareth realized.

  “But there is something I must tell you before you go after the magician,” William hissed softly. “Clare put mugwort inside the pouch. Sir Lucretius will soon begin to sneeze uncontrollably. His eyes will water and he will be rendered helpless.”

  Gareth looked down at William. “Are you certain?”

  “Aye, my lord. He has a terrible reaction to mugwort. I saw what happened when Clare once gave him a pomander that was filled with it. He accused her of trying to poison him.”

  “G
o back inside the hall and wait until Sir Ulrich tells you to open the door.”

  “Aye, my lord.” William hesitated. “You will fetch Clare back, will you not?”

  “Aye.” He looked at Dallan. “Come with me, Squire.”

  Dallan turned a stark face to him. “He will kill her, my lord.”

  “Nay. We will rescue her. It is the magician who will not survive this night.”

  He strode toward the gate and called to one of the men-at-arms to open it.

  Ulrich hailed him through the smoke. “We have the magician’s knights, my lord.”

  “Lock them up until I return.”

  “But where are you going?”

  “To hunt a magician.”

  Once outside the gate, Gareth discovered that an eerie silence now gripped the isle. The chill of dawn had caused the fog to thicken measurably.

  The gray mist glowed with the pale light of morning. Unfortunately, that pearly luminescence only served to veil the landscape more completely. Attempting to see through the fog was akin to peering into the smoked crystal stone in the pommel of his sword, Gareth thought. There was light there, but it fooled the eye and obscured the depths.

  “What are we going to do?” Dallan asked in a whisper.

  “I believe he will head for the first of the small coves. He will seek the small boat that he hid there.”

  Dallan glanced at Gareth, startled. “You found a boat in one of the caves?”

  “Aye. I gave orders that the caves were to be searched every few hours. One of the men discovered a vessel concealed there a short while ago.”

  “The magician’s boat?”

  “No doubt. The bowmen were merely a distraction. He never intended to meet up with them or to leave by way of the harbor.” Gareth glanced around, searching for familiar landmarks in the fog. Through the mist he spotted the shape of one of the outbuildings. “That way. Henceforth, say nothing. Walk as silently as you can.”

  Dallan nodded.

  Gareth led the way across the mist-shrouded field. When the outbuilding faded into the fog, he used the sound of the waves as a guide.

  He and Dallan had not gone more than twenty paces when they heard the first great sneeze. It came from up ahead and off to the left.

  Dallan looked at Gareth, his eyes widening with realization.