In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,131

trouble as they seemed in the beginning. Once I tossed their bagpipes and the skirted fiend who played them over the walls … they were reconciled quite nicely to their habitats. Gallworm! Fetch ale and wine for our guests.”

Gallworm relayed the order to a wench who hastened forward with the refreshments. Having been dismissed already, Eduard and Sedrick showed no reluctance in following Brevant out of the great hall. FitzRandwulf paused before he exited the room, aware of eyes burning into the back of his neck and when he looked back, he was not surprised to see Ariel staring after him. She was standing on the dais, waiting while the varlet fussed with her chair, and was caught in a spill of hazed light that streamed down from the single window overhead. Swathed in lustrous green velvet, with the gold barbettes trapping the fire of her hair, she looked as regal as any queen who might have stood there. As regal as any queen accusing one of her avowed champions of abandoning her.

Eduard ducked through the low doorway behind Sedrick and Dafydd. Brevant was leading them down a long stone corridor that connected the great hall to the barracks. The passage was confining in width and height, forcing the tallest to walk stooped over.

“The physic has been told to look beneath the bandages on your man’s arm,” Brevant warned under his breath. “If the bones are not genuinely broken, they had better be before the linens are unbound.”

“He will find what he is looking for,” Eduard said. “The question now is, will we?”

Brevant deigned not to acknowledge or answer the question until the barracks had been left behind along with Sedrick and Dafydd. They did not return to the great hall at once, but took a more circuitous route by way of the tower rooms where Henry and Ariel would be housed for the night.

“I suggested to Lord Gisbourne, what with the marshal’s niece probably being accustomed to somewhat different ser vices than what our castle sluts are skilled at supplying, some other arrangements might be made.”

Eduard glanced sharply at Brevant. “He has given permission for Marienne to serve Lady de Clare?”

“She will be summoned before supper to draw the lady a bath and tend her needs. I suggest you be there yourself to say what you have to say while you have the chance.” The captain turned and the plates of his armour winked with reflected candlelight. “I would also warn you that if the wrong ear picks up a whisper, I will be the one chaining your ankles and wrists to the rack—and I will do it, by Christ’s cross, with an extra twist of thanks for all the trouble you have given me.”

Chapter 18

Marienne stood on the threshold of Ariel de Glare’s chambers, her slender body trembling so badly the buckets she was carrying sloshed water over the lip and down the sides of her skirt.

Gisbourne had kept Ariel and Henry in the great hall until well past dusk and when Ariel had finally been escorted to her apartment, she found Eduard was already there, waiting.

There were two rooms set aside for Ariel’s use and privacy, occupying the upper floor of the Queen’s Tower. Neither were very large, with one barely more than an anteroom holding the garderobe and a pallet for a page or maid. The inner room contained the bed, a chest for clothes, an iron candle stand, and because it was the upper level, a small hearth with a crib for burning logs. Henry’s rooms were identical in size and shape, located down a twist of stone stairs. There were no windows, as such, on either level, only deep, narrow vents cut high on the walls, and in Ariel’s room, a cat’s climb to the roof.

Only a couple of minutes passed, with Ariel too busy recounting Gisbourne’s more obnoxious qualities—he liked to pick lice from his scalp and beard and crunch the shells between his teeth—before they heard the soft knocking on the outer doors. Robin, who had remained vigilant by Ariel’s side throughout the afternoon, opened the door and stood there like a fool, gaping at Marienne as if she had grown three eyes and a pair of horns.

“Marienne?” he said on a breath. “Is it you?” The smile that came slowly, disbelievingly to the young maid’s lips (in truth, she had lost hold of her wits for a long, startled moment as well) grew inconceivably wider and brighter as she looked up