Joan Wolf - No Dark Place

Isabel made a small sound, like an animal in pain.

Hugh’s face was like stone.

“A convenient conclusion,” Guy said with heavy irony. “There is only one part of this story that has never made sense to me. What reason would this Walter have for wanting to kill my brother and kidnap his son?”

The room was utterly silent.

Then Isabel said quietly, “A year before, I had had a love affair with Walter’s brother, and when Roger found out about it, he had Ivo castrated. Then Ivo killed himself. So you see, Guy, Walter had good reason to wish Roger dead.”

The look of horror on Guy’s face echoed the horror that Philip knew must be engraved on his own features.

Castrated. Dear God. What kind of man had Roger de Leon been?

Isabel clasped her arms even more tightly around herself. Hugh appeared to be staring intently at his boots.

“Who knew about this?” Guy said harshly.

“All of the castle knights knew,” Isabel replied. “That is why they were so quick to point a finger at Walter. They all knew that he had a reason to wish Roger dead.”

“I cannot believe that I never heard a word of this,” Guy said.

“The household wished to protect Lady Isabel,” Father Anselm said. “No one wanted to see her suffer any more than she already had. The knights all held their tongues.”

Guy shifted his heavy frame in his chair. “Unfortunately, the result of all of this concern for Isabel’s reputation led to blame being cast on me. You are aware, I presume, that for years I have been suspected of having paid Walter Crespin to kill Roger so that I could assume my brother’s honors?”

“Perhaps there was suspicion, but there was no proof,” the priest said. “We knew there never would be proof, because there was none to be found.”

The candles in the room all flickered at once, as a chill breeze came into the room from under the closed door.

For the first time in a long while, Hugh spoke. “It seems to me that you came out of this tragedy the best of us all, Uncle. You became the Earl of Wiltshire, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. On the other hand, my mother locked herself away in a convent for fourteen years, and I lived for most of my life without knowing who I was. I cannot find it in my heart to feel sorry for you.”

His voice had an edge that could cut glass.

Guy’s head jerked up and the two pairs of gray eyes met and held.

“I am still the Earl of Wiltshire,” Guy said grimly. “And I intend to remain so.”

Hugh’s eyes were cold as the winter sky. He looked back at Guy and did not reply.

Philip, staring at Hugh’s still, dangerous face, thought, After all, he is his father’s son .

He shivered at the thought.

Suddenly Philip remembered another death.

“You may not have been responsible for the murder of your brother, my lord, but what of the knight who was killed at your tournament?”

Guy swung around to stare at Philip. “I had naught to do with that. It was a mêlée, for God’s sake. Men get killed in mêlées all the time.”

“I saw it happen,” Philip said. “Geoffrey was pushed from behind.”

Guy’s face flushed red with anger. “Well, I was not responsible!”

Philip’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Hugh said, “I believe I might be able to clear this particular matter up, my lord, if you will send for Aubrey d’Abrille.”

All eyes swung toward Hugh.

“Who the devil is Aubrey d’Abrille?” Philip demanded.

Guy answered without removing his gaze from Hugh’s face. “He is one of my household knights. What does he have to do with this matter, Hugh?”

“Send for him and we shall see,” Hugh returned calmly.

Guy swung around to face Philip. “Go down to the hall and ask a page to fetch me Aubrey d’Abrille.”

Philip unfolded his considerable length from the stool upon which he was sitting and left the room.

The household was still at supper when he arrived in the Great Hall. Guy’s place of honor at the head table was conspicuously empty. Philip beckoned to one of the pages who was carrying a platter of meat and relayed Guy’s order. The boy took his platter over to a table of knights and said something.

A tall man with distinctive chestnut-colored hair rose and accompanied the page back to Philip.

“Lord Guy wishes to see you,” Philip said abruptly. “Come with me, if you please.”

The knight’s face was very still. He didn’t say a word. He merely nodded.

The two men climbed the spiral stairs that led to the tower room where Guy and Hugh awaited them.

The room was silent when Philip reentered.

“My lord,” he said to Guy. “Here is Aubrey d’Abrille.”

He felt the knight beside him stiffen and turned to look at him. The man was staring at Isabel.

Hugh spoke from her side. “Good evening, Aubrey. I’m afraid I entered Chippenham without your knowledge this time. I apologize for depriving you of another opportunity to try to kill me.”

Isabel’s breath caught audibly.

The red-haired knight scowled and forced his gaze to Hugh’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” Hugh replied. “You tried to kill me twice. The first time, at the tournament, you were successful in killing the man who was riding my horse. Your second attempt was less satisfactory, although you came very close.”

“What are you talking about, Hugh?” Guy demanded angrily. “Why should Aubrey want to kill you?”

Hugh’s expression was perfectly contained.

“Ask him what name he was born with,” he said.

At those words, the knight took a step backward. Philip moved to put himself in front of the door.

Hugh’s voice went on, calm and steady. “He grew up in the castle of his maternal uncle, Hubert d’Abrille, and when he came to Chippenham he took his uncle’s name. But he was born Aubrey Crespin, younger brother to Ivo and Walter.”

Isabel cried out in pain.

“Is this true?” Guy demanded of his knight.

He lifted his chin and replied defiantly, “Aye, it is true. I am Aubrey Crespin.”

“Oh my dear God,” said Isabel.

The knight stared at her. “You were the reason both my brothers died,” he said bitterly. “I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me.”

Isabel’s mouth was quivering.

“You’re Ivo’s brother?”

Her voice was a mere thread of sound.

“I am Ivo’s brother. And Walter’s brother as well. Don’t forget Walter, who sacrificed both his life and his reputation on your behalf. My lady .”

He spoke the last words as if they were a curse.

It was Hugh who answered the accusation. “It was my father, not my mother, who was responsible for the death of your brother, Ivo. And it was outlaws on the road who killed your brother, Walter. Your vengeance has been misplaced, Aubrey.”

The knight’s light green eyes burned in his pale face. “I don’t think so. You are his son as well as hers.”

“My son,” said Father Anselm in a gentle voice. “I knew both your brothers. They were brave and honorable men. They would never want you to exact this kind of revenge.”

Aubrey stared at the priest and did not reply.

“Walter gave his life trying to keep Hugh safe,” Father Anselm went on. “Do you think it would give him joy to know that his own brother was the cause of Hugh’s death?”

The knight’s breathing was harsh and audible in the quiet of the room.

“My mother has been punished enough,” Hugh said. “There is no necessity for you to add to the burden she already bears.”

Tears began to pour down Isabel’s face.

“You have Ivo’s eyes,” she said to Aubrey. Her voice caught on a sob and she pressed her lips together hard.