Desire

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.

Dalian, you stupid little cur, toss the pouch to me."

Dalian looked at Gareth.

"Do it," Gareth said.

Dalian 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."

"Go 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 Dalian. "Come with me, Squire."

Dalian 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?" Dalian 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."

Dalian 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."

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

Dalian looked at Gareth, his eyes widening with realization.

Gareth smiled. My sweet, clever Clare. You have snared the magician for me. Now all I have to do is wait for the right moment to kill him.

The second sneeze was accompanied by a raging curse.

"Goddamn this isle and all your obnoxious perfumes, Clare. There must be a field of mugwort nearby."

"Release me, sir," Clare commanded. "You do not need me any longer."

"Hush. Do not speak again. That damned Hellhound is no doubt following us." Lucretius broke off to sneeze.

Gareth used the sound to guide himself closer to his quarry. He motioned Dalian to stay behind him.

They were very near the edge of the cliffs now. Gareth could hear the echo of the waves in the cove.

He heard Clare cry out softly as she stumbled over some object.

"The boat is hidden in the cave down below," Lucretius muttered. "You will go down the cliff path ahead of me. There is no place to run, so don't even think of doing so.

Go. I will be right behind you?"

The magician's words were cut off by a swift series of loud, convulsive sneezes. He swore again, violently. And sneezed again.

The sound of a brief scuffle ensued.

"Nay," Clare said. "I'll not go with you."

"Come back here, you stupid wench. I will kill you with my magic if you do not return to me." Another sneezing fit overcame Lucretius. "What is this?" he gasped. "What have you done to me? Damn you, 'tis the book."

Something heavy fell to earth. Gareth knew that it was the leather pouch Lucretius had slung across his body. The magician had thrown it down onto the ground in rage.

"You have tried to poison me," Lucretius screamed. "I'll kill you for this, just as I killed your father."

"Leave," Clare cried. "Flee while you still can, magician. If my husband finds you, he will surely destroy you."

Gareth saw the flash of Clare's gown in the fog. A new fear seized him.

He realized that Clare could not see any more clearly than he could. If she chanced to lose her bearings, she might fall into the sea.

"Clare, this way," he shouted. "Do not run toward the cliffs. Run to me."

Footsteps thudded softly in the moist ground. Clare appeared out of the mist. She ran blindly toward the sound of his voice. Then she saw him.

"Gareth."

"Stay with Dalian." Gareth raised his sword and went past her.

He nearly stumbled over the leather pouch that was lying on the ground.

The book had fallen out.

Dried flowers were scattered about. The familiar scent of mugwort was strong.

Another loud sneeze made Gareth whirl to the left. Lucretius stood in the swirling gray mist. His black cloak was thrown back behind his shoulders, revealing his mail hauberk.

"So you think that you are a more clever magician than I, Hellhound?"

Gareth did not answer. He paced toward Lucretius.

"Stay back." Lucretius held his sword ready for battle with one hand.

With his other, he reached into the folds of his cape and withdrew an object the size of a cup. "I can throw the contents of this vial farther than you can reach with a sword, Hellhound."

Gareth glanced at the large vial. It was filled with a green-tinged potion that he did not recognize. "Do you think I fear whatever you have in that jar?"

"You would do well to fear it." Lucretius's smile was savage. "Tis a corrosive elixir that burns whatever it touches, including skin and eyes, Hellhound."

"He's right, my lord." Dalian took a step forward. He stared at the vial in Lucretius's hand. "Tis a mixture that he concocted when he tried to create gold from base metals. It burns like fire."

Lucretius laughed softly. "Listen to the boy, Hellhound. Or risk your eyes. What good is a blind hound?"

"Gareth, I believe that he speaks the truth," Clare said. "Do not get close to him."

"He does speak the truth," Dalian insisted. "Have a care, my lord."

Clare did not take her eyes off Lucretius. "Why did you kill the recluse?"

Lucretius shrugged. "The foolish old woman saw me. She believed me to be the ghost of Brother Bartholomew come to search for his lost Sister Maud. But for some reason she felt she had to prove the point."

"She followed you to the convent library and you killed her," Clare whispered.

"I wanted to see if you had stored your father's books in the convent library before I went to the trouble of trying to find it in your hall. It would have been so much simpler if you had handed it over to the nuns, Clare."

"They were not interested in it," Clare said. "So I kept it."

"Idiots." Lucretius glanced at the book lying near the pouch. "The greatest secrets of the ancients are in that volume. Your father found them in the Arabic treatises that he translated. Mayhap the very secret of immortality is in there."

"Do you intend to leave the isle without your precious book, magician?"

Gareth prodded the volume with the toe of his boot.

"It appears that I shall be forced to leave it behind today, but you may be certain that I shall return for it." Lucretius smiled his cold, dazzling smile once more. "And you will never know when or where I shall next appear. The knowledge will no doubt keep you awake at night, eh, Hellhound?"

"I stopped you this time, did I not? I can do it again, if need be."

"Bah! You were fortunate this time, that is all. Next time, things will be different."

"Leave, then, if that is your intent. Take your foul elixir and get off this isle."

"As you wish, Hellhound. But first I will leave you something by which you shall always remember me." Lucretius hurled the vial, straight at Gareth's face.

"No," Dalian yelled. He leaped to intercept the vial, reaching for it with his bare hands.

"Dalian," Clare shouted.

Gareth did not even think about his reaction. It was instantaneous, the sort of quick, physical response that had saved his life on countless occasions.

With one hand he grabbed Dalian and yanked him out of the way. With the other he brought his sword up in a swift, short arc. He caught the vial on the flat of the blade.

Gareth used the momentum of the swing to propel the small jar off to the side. It struck a rock and shattered. There was a soft hissing sound.

"Dear God," Clare breathed. "It is eating away at the rock."

"You have the devil's own luck, Hellhound." Lucretius raced toward the cliff path. "But it cannot last forever."

"There is no boat waiting for you down in the cove, magician," Gareth said softly. "My men discovered it a short while ago."

"Nay, that cannot be." Lucretius's cloak whipped around him as he halted at the top of the cliff path. "You He. I discovered those caves. No one knows about the cliff caves."

Gareth smiled. "You do not know much about young boys. They are insatiably curious. William found the caves long ago."

"Damn you, Hellhound." Lucretius lunged toward him, sword raised.

Gareth met the rush easily. Steel clashed against steel. Lucretius leaped back out of reach, feinted, and closed once more.

The magician was good, Gareth conceded privately as the two men circled each other. He was both fast and clever. Lucretius might make a show of disdaining the fighting arts in favor of magic, but it was obvious he had a talent for swordplay.

Conscious of the sheer drop at the edge of the cliff, Gareth maneuvered to ensure that it was Lucretius's back that was to the sea, not his own. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clare drag Dalian out of harm's way.

Lucretius attempted another rushing charge. Gareth sidestepped it.

The magician swung around and this time Gareth found himself in the position he had wished to avoid. His back was to the cliffs.

Lucretius closed again, sword glinting dully in the gray light. Gareth felt the ground give way beneath his left boot heel. The edge of the cliff began to crumble beneath him. The waves below were very loud.

With all of his strength, he dove forward, headfirst, in an attempt to dive beneath the thrust of Lucretius's steel.

Lucretius was already committed to the blow. His face contorted with rage as Gareth slid in low, just beneath the blade, hit the ground with his shoulder, and rolled.

"Die, Hellhound." Lucretius swung around as Gareth surged to his feet.

Die, damn you."

Gareth saw the opening and moved in, sword ready. Lucretius could not get his own blade up swiftly enough to effectively parry the blow.

But even as Gareth went in for the kill, Lucretius screamed and dropped his sword. He flailed wildly as the ground gave way beneath his feet.

"No," Lucretius yelled. "No, it cannot happen like this. I'm a magician."

Gareth caught himself and stepped swiftly back from the disintegrating cliff edge.

Lucretius pitched backward into the gray nothingness that waited for him. His scream rent the air for endless seconds and then it abruptly ceased.

In the great silence that followed, Gareth met Clare's eyes.

"Gareth." She ran toward him and threw herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. "You are safe."

"Aye." Gareth looked over the top of her head at Dalian, who was staring at the place where Lucretius had last been seen.

"Do you think he is truly dead, my lord?' Dalian asked in a strange voice.

"Aye. You and I shall go down to the cove together. Be assured that we will find his body lying on the rocks. He was only a man, after all."

"A terrible man," Clare said distinctly from the circle of Gareth's arm.

"Not at all a good recipe for a husband."

Clare had still not recovered from the shock of the day's events by the time she and Gareth retired to their bedchamber that evening.

On the surface, all had returned to normal. Ranulf had been found, alive but unconscious, in the watchtower. He had soon recovered from the blow to his head, but, Clare suspected his pride would take longer to heal.

Lucretius's body had been retrieved from the cove. The four black-cloaked knights that had survived the conflict and the three hapless bowmen were securely locked up in a storage cellar beneath the hall.

Joanna had recovered from her faint, hugged William until he pleaded with her to cease, and then thrown herself straight into Ulrich's arms.

The village was abuzz with excitement as neighbor retold the tale to neighbor. With each telling, the exploits of the Hellhound grew more impressive. Clare knew that her people were taking a great deal of pride in the fact that their lord had proven himself more powerful than any magician.

There had been much merriment and jubilation among Gareth's men at supper. Cook had produced an elaborate array of dishes to celebrate the events. The servants had talked and jested with the men-at-arms.

Dalian had contributed to the air of celebration by singing a thrilling ballad narrating the rescue of Desire. He had composed it in less than two hours and everyone was extremely admiring of his talents.

Clare had managed to maintain a reasonably serene facade as the courtyard was cleaned and all was set to rights. But it was only a facade. She had not been able to eat a thing at the evening meal.

"Are you all right, Clare?" Gareth asked quietly. He stood in front of the hearth fire and stripped off his tunic and boots.

"Aye. Just a little cold." She clenched her hands around the edge of the quilt and watched Gareth as he undressed.

Gareth coiled his leather belt around his fist. "You've been acting oddly this evening."

"Well, it has been a rather odd day, my lord."

He cocked a brow as he set the coiled the belt down on top of a carved chest. "I understand."

"Do you, Gareth?"

"Aye. You are not accustomed to violence here on Desire."

"That is very true."

"Well, calm yourself, madam." Gareth yawned. "Tis very unlikely that we'll be confronted with a similar situation anytime soon. The hall is safe. Desire is safe. Our people are safe."

"Thanks to you, my lord."

His broad shoulder moved in a massive shrug as he crossed the room to the bed. "The magician was nothing more than a well-dressed thief. I am good at dealing with thieves, madam. I've had a fair amount of practice, if you will recall."

His careless attitude to the devastating events of the day was too much.

Clare sat straight up in bed.

She clutched the quilt to her throat with shaking fingers. "By Saint Hermione's eyes, how can you be so casual about this, my lord?"

He stopped, clearly surprised by her burst of anger. Then concern furrowed his brow. "Clare? Are you well? Do you need a warm drink to help you sleep? You've been through a great deal today."

"I most certainly have been through a great deal." Clare scrambled to her feet and stood squarely in the middle of the bed. She braced her fists on her hips and glowered at him. "You very nearly got yourself killed today, Hellhound!"

He regarded her with a quizzical expression. "There was very little likelihood of that."

"There was every likelihood of it. I witnessed that last battle with the magician. It could just as easily have been you who went over the cliff."

Gareth yawned again. "But I didn't."

"Don't you dare treat this matter so lightly, my lord. What would I have done if it had been your body we brought up from the cove?"

"Clare?"

Tears of anguish and rage filled her eyes. "I could not have borne it, damn you."

"Clare, all is well, I swear it. Calm yourself, madam."

"Do not treat me as though I were an anxious mare. I almost lost you today."

Gareth gave her a slight smile. "I have no doubt but that you could have replaced me easily enough, madam. There are no lack of homeless knights in England. Mayhap you would have found one who came closer to meeting your specifications than I do."

"Do not jest with me, sir. I am in no mood for it. I told you that I love you. Can you not comprehend what that means?"

"I believe so," Gareth said slowly.

"Bah, you have no notion whatsoever of love, do you? If you had been killed today, my heart would have been broken forever. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"It means everything to me," Gareth said simply.

"Oh, Gareth." Clare hurled herself straight into his arms. "You are the only man I have ever known who makes me feel something more than merely useful."

Gareth wrapped his arms around her. "You have the same effect on me, madam. I begin to believe that I belong here on Desire."

"You do. This is your home, Gareth. You must never forget that for a single moment. You must not take any more foolish risks."

"Ease your mind, wife. We are both safe and I intend to keep us so."

"I was so terrified that I would lose you," she mumbled against his shoulder.

He tangled his hands in her hair. "How do you think I felt when I returned to the hall and found you standing on the steps conversing with Lucretius de Valemont?"

Clare choked back a sob. "I was not conversing with him. We were bargaining. I am very good at bargaining."

"Aye, so you are." Gareth gently stroked the nape of her neck with his thumb and forefinger. "That was a very clever trick you played on the magician."

"I knew the mugwort would cause him to sneeze most violently. I had hoped that his reaction would give Dalian a chance to escape."

"Instead it provided you with your chance." Gareth paused meaningfully.

"A chance which you would not have needed if you had stayed safely inside the hall as I commanded."

"I had to do something. He threatened Dalian's life."

"So you went to the rescue." Gareth groaned in resignation. "I suppose there is no point berating you for your foolishness."

"I had no choice."

Gareth captured her face between his palms. "We will not argue the point. 'Tis over and done. You are safe now and that is all that matters."

She smiled and blinked back the last of her tears. "Oh, Gareth." She wound her arms around his neck and pressed close.

He gave a deep, husky exclamation, picked her up, and settled her onto the herb-scented sheets. There was enough light from the banked fire for Clare to see the brilliant intensity of his eyes. The heat in those crystal depths warmed her as nothing else had been able to do all day.

"Ah, my sweet Clare." Gareth sprawled heavily on top of her, crushing her into the bedding. "You are not the only one who got a sound scare today. Do not ever do that to me again."

"Nay, my lord." Clare pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with a frantic need that she did not bother to disguise.

His response overwhelmed her, as it always did.

A long while later Clare shifted languidly alongside Gareth. Neither of them had bothered to draw the curtains around the bed yet. The embers of the fire cast a warm light onto the rumpled sheets.

Clare snuggled deeper into her husband's warmth and breathed in the scent of his relaxed, satiated body. Just as she closed her eyes, a drowsy thought flitted through her brain.

"Gareth?"

"Hmm?" Gareth's voice was little more than a rumbling purr in the shadows.

"I almost forgot. Eadgar wants to know how long we shall be obliged to feed the prisoners. He says he will need to acquire provisions if they are to be housed in the storage rooms for any length of time."

"He need only bother with them for another day or so at the most.

They'll all be gone soon."

"Good. He'll be grateful to learn that." Clare patted away a tiny yawn and nestled closer. "Tis a problem for him, you know. We are not accustomed to dealing with prisoners here on Desire."

"Uh-huh." Gareth sounded as though he were already half asleep.

Clare gazed thoughtfully into the glowing coals on the hearth. "Where do you suppose such men will go now that their master is dead?"

"Huh?"

"I was wondering what will become of those four knights who served Sir Lucretius. And those three bowmen you took captive. Poor men. It must be very hard not to have a home or good lord to serve."

"Finding a new home is not going to be a problem for them, Clare."

She turned her head on the pillow. "Why not?"

"Because I'm going to have them all hung, that's why not."

"What?" Clare shot bolt upright. "You cannot do that, Gareth."

He opened one eye and looked at her as though she had gone mad. " Tis the usual procedure for dealing with men of that sort."

"Impossible. Absolutely impossible. You are not going to hang seven men here on Desire, my lord. By Saint Hermione's ring, it is out of the question." Clare's imagination conjured up a vision of seven bodies dangling from gibbets. "I absolutely.forbid it."

Gareth opened his other eye and studied her with a blank look. "You forbid it?"

"Aye, I most certainly do. There has never been a hanging here on Desire. My father never found it necessary to hang anyone. I do not intend to change that custom."

"Clare," Gareth said with an ominous patience, "those men downstairs in the cellar are masterless men. Thieves. Renegade knights. They are likely murderers and worse."

"They killed no one here."

"By purest chance."

"They were led by an evil man who is now dead."

"Aye, and if I turn them loose, they'll soon find themselves another such master to serve. That is their nature."

Clare stared at him, shaken by the implacable expression on his face.

"My lord, I cannot abide the thought of so many terrible deaths taking place on this isle. You cannot do it."

Gareth hesitated. "I suppose I could have them sent to Seabern. Sir Nicholas will likely not mind seeing to the matter."

Clare pounded the bedding with clenched fists. "That is not the point.

The point is, I do not want them all to hang."

Gareth made an obvious bid for his patience. "We agreed that we each had our responsibilities as lord and lady of this manor."

"Aye, but?"

"You must allow me to carry out my duties, madam."

"Surely you do not need to hang them. There are alternatives."

"What alternatives?"

"You can banish them," she suggested swiftly. "Make them swear to abjure the territory. They would not dare to return."

"Clare?"

"They fear you, sir. They believe you to be more powerful than Lucretius de Valemont."

"Mayhap they would not be of much concern to us in the future," Gareth conceded, "but declaring them outlaws and sending them away only serves to make them someone else's problem."

"Gareth, I will not have seven bodies twisting in the breeze of Desire, and that is final."

"Nay, madam. In this matter, my decision is final."

"We shall see about that." Clare swept up the quilt and wrapped it around herself. She slid off the edge of the bed.

"Where the devil do you think you are going, wife?"

"I am going to sleep in the wardrobe until you grant me the boon I have asked of you, my lord."

Wearing the quilt like an overlong cloak, Clare spun on her heel and stalked across the bedchamber into the wardrobe.