Is that understood?"
William straightened his shoulders. "Aye, my lord."
Gareth swung the horse's head around and set off at a gallop into the fog. Maiden Comstock raised his torch and wheeled his own mount to follow.
One of the servants closed the gate solidly behind them.
Ulrich had just completed his task when Gareth and Maiden Comstock reached the harbor. Flickering torches cast a hellish glow over the bodies of the two dead intruders. Three others stood in sullen silence, their hands bound behind them.
A cluster of villagers had emerged from their cottages to watch the excitement.
Gareth dismounted and tossed the reins of his horse to Maiden. "Well done, Ulrich."
"This is the lot," Ulrich said. "They were not much trouble."
Gareth looked at the three surviving bowmen. "Which of you is Lucretius de Valemont?"
The captives stared at him. One shook his head.
Gareth contemplated the men thoughtfully. "There are many ways to die.
Not all of them are swift.
Give me the answers I seek."
One of the bowmen, a barrel-chested man of middle years, peered at him.
"Your men call you the Hellhound of Wyckmere. Do they speak the truth?"
"Aye," Gareth said.
" Tis said your oath is as strong as your sword."
"Aye."
"If we speak the truth, will you give us your word that our ends will be quick?"
"Aye." He had never tortured a man in his entire career as a hunter of cutthroats and thieves, Gareth thought. But there was no need for these three to know that.
The bowman considered for a short time. "The thing is, m'lord, we don't know any Lucretius de Valemont. And that's the truth. I swear it."
"Who hired you?"
The man shrugged. "A masterless knight who called himself Sir Raymond.
He paid us well to come ashore in a boat tonight. He said he knew how to get us through the fog."
"Why did he want you to come here to Desire?"
"Said we'd find easy pickings here in the village. But I swear he said nothing about the isle being defended by the Hellhound's men."
"How did he guide you through the mist?"
The bowman exchanged uneasy glances. The spokesman looked at Gareth.
"Sir Raymond came with us. He gave us directions after he consulted some magical device that he kept hidden in his cloak."
"Magic." One of the bowmen spat on the ground in disgust. "Told ye we should never have taken up with his kind. I never liked this business, even if that damned renegade knight did promise us enough loot from the convent to sink a ship."
The third man glowered at him. "Ye were eager enough to talk Brock and Dagget and the rest of us into it. We'd be set for life, ye said. Instead, we're all going to hang, thanks to ye."
Gareth rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, effectively silencing the argument. "Where is this Sir Raymond?"
"Like Brock told ye, we don't know, m'lord," one of the men said.
The spokesman stirred uneasily. "He got out of our boat a few yards offshore. He climbed into a smaller boat that we had brought along to carry the booty. Said he'd meet up with us later at the convent gate. Then he up and disappeared in the fog."
Gareth stilled. "And you five continued on into the harbor?"
"Aye. Not like we had any choice in the matter. We could not return to Seabern in this fog without Sir Raymond and his damned magical device." The bowman gave a fatalistic shrug. "Your men were waiting for us on the quay and that was the end of the thing."
"Me ma always said I'd finish me life at the end of a rope," one of the other bowmen remarked.
Ulrich looked at Gareth. "These three may well be lying, my lord."
"Aye." Gareth scanned the faces of the bowmen. He saw nothing in their eyes but stupidity and dumb resignation. He looked at the two dead bodies on the quay. "Fetch Dalian."
"Aye, my lord. He joined us earlier," Ulrich turned to the men gathered nearby. "Dalian, come here, lad. We need your help."
There was no response.
"He's not here, sir," one of the men-at-arms said. He looked around in confusion. "Mayhap he was injured by one of the bowmen's arrows."
"I'll check with the villagers," Maiden said. He went over to the small cluster of curious onlookers.
When he returned a moment later, his eyes were grave.
"Well?" Gareth asked.
"Dalian seems to have vanished, my lord."
Ulrich looked thoughtful. "I warned you the lad might well prove dangerous, my lord. Mayhap he has lied to you all along."
Clare poked at the glowing coals in the brazier that wanned the chamber where she sat with Joanna and William. "Does it seem especially cold to you tonight, Joanna?"
"Summer will soon be here." Joanna studied her embroidery by the light of the lamp.
William stood at the window, his eyes on the torchlit courtyard. "I wonder if they have flushed out the magician yet. Do you suppose that one of the bowmen they have run to ground at the harbor really is Lucretius de Valemont?"
Clare frowned. "Sir Raymond never said anything about being a bowman.
Tis not the sort of skill a knight learns."
Joanna glanced at her. "Very true. Knights do not train with such weapons. Bows are for common men-at-arms."
William continued to stare out the window. "Lord Gareth says such thinking is foolish. He says a man who wishes to survive must become adept with a variety of weapons, including the bow. Dalian and I have been practicing archery skills with Ranulf and the others."
"You have?" Joanna looked startled. "I did not know of this. I do not believe that archery is a beneficial form of exercise."
Clare hastened to change the subject. "Mayhap one of the men who was killed at the harbor was Lucretius de Valemont."
"Not likely," William said, "Dalian would have recognized him and sent word back with Maiden Comstock."
"Hmm. You have a point," Clare said. "The magician must be one of the men trapped inside the house."
"Aye." William nodded with satisfaction. "Sir Ulrich and the others will no doubt have captured them by the time Lord Gareth arrives."
"I pray it will all be over quickly," Clare whispered.
"Of course it will." Joanna set another stitch. "Lord Gareth and Sir Ulrich will see to the matter."
"I don't know. It almost seems too simple." Clare crossed her arms beneath her breasts. She could not shake off the chill she had been feeling all evening.
Joanna looked up sharply. "Why do you say that?"
"I suppose because after all the turmoil he has caused, I cannot believe Raymond?I mean, Lucretius?will be stopped so easily."
William made a fist on the windowsill. "Sir Ulrich says the magician likely killed Sir Humphrey."
Clare shivered. "All because of an alchemic recipe book. Raymond or Lucretius, or whatever his name is, must be mad."
Joanna stabbed her needle into the fabric. "I never did trust that man."
Clare exchanged a small, wry look with William. Neither of them reminded Joanna that she had once praised Raymond de Coleville to the skies.
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 shadowed 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?"