The Treasure of Leawick Castle

Chapter 1

1238

Black days. Alina Dyer's life had been filled with them nigh unto three years now. At ten and four years, her beloved father was slaughtered by the knight hired to protect his lands rather than overtake them. She peered through the small window, leaning far over to watch the carnage below.

Alina thought it was still day, though it was hard to tell through the smoke that billowed from the burning buildings within the bailey. It could be late day, the red-orange glow from the sinking sun. Or it mayhap was more fires burning, adding smoke to the already blackened sky. She did not know and would not find out anytime soon, she feared. Aldrich de Broune had seen to that three years ago, when still bloodied from the murder of Alina's father, he dragged her screaming from her chamber to the great hall and made her his lady, though it was a technical distinction that merely prevented anyone from disputing his claim to Leawick Castle.

It was foolish for him to believe no challenge would come based on a claim no one could verify, for Alina was not allowed to see or speak to a single soul in these many years, locked away in chambers in her father's stone keep. Around it, the stagnant moat had been filled with rot, the final resting place of those de Broune killed to keep Leawick in his greedy clutches.

The stench usually kept Alina away from the single window in her prison, particularly during warmer months when the decaying flesh became an offense too unbearable. She shuddered and pinched her nostrils closed as she leaned further over the ledge.

Would not death be better than the fear that had driven her nigh unto madness in all these long years? She could merely inch her way over the ledge and throw herself to the hard ground below. Let these fools battle for land. Let them give de Broune his due and throw his remains into the moat with all the others.

A thunderous sound startled a shriek from Alina's throat. A storm? She silently prayed for rain. Mayhap it would quench some of the fires burning within the walls of Leawick. Though moments had passed since the reckless urge to end her misery, Alina could not forget what this place had once been, what it had meant to her father, to the people who lived on the demesne lands, his villeins, his men at arms, to those who endured de Broune and those who died to defy him.

Sweet Jesu, let someone with honor save us from this hell! she whispered urgently with hands clasped to her breast in fervent prayer. Save us or kill us all, for we cannot endure much more.

The boom crashed again. Again. Again. Its rhythm was too predictable now for thunder. Nay, there would be no storms to quench the fire ere aught was destroyed. Prayer might be answered this time. They could all die. And if the fires reached the keep, there would be no escape for Alina. The heavy wooden door behind her remained barred from the outside, keeping her within save for twice daily when two of Aldrich's men accompanied a mute slave to deliver food and empty Alina's chamber pot. No further consideration had been given her. No clean clothing, no bath water, not even the simple comfort of word had been afforded.

Alina crouched below the window and covered her ears. All she could do was pray – for the end of whatever battle waged below. Whether it resulted in the destruction of Leawick or the ouster of Aldrich de Broune, it mattered not. Death would not be worse than the unknown, would it? For surely, anyone with the strength or will to challenge the man who dared kill her father was likely of the same ilk.

It was defeat that shrouded her as she rested her head against the thin, filthy linen that covered her knees, and wept in silence.

*~*~*~*~*

He is fleeing, the knight on the ground yelled, aiming his sword to the west as he gained the attention of his liege lord who was yet unbloodied and astride his destrier.

Aye, so he is, the coward, William growled.

Shall the others dispatch to surround him ere he escapes?

Nay, William's grim face hardened. No other sword shall spill the bastard's blood, Rolf. 'Tis the least I owe my father, my mother, my sisters. 'Twill be at my hand alone.

Rolf sighed. And the keep, my liege?

What of it? The dark scowl turned downward again. Lay it to waste as you have the rest of Leawick. There will be naught but blackened stone for him should he work some unimaginable treachery to escape me. Nay, he will learn that I shall lay to waste all he touches ere I end his miserable life.

Rolf watched but for another moment as William de Montrose galloped toward his prey of nigh ten years. At half a score and nine years, William had just completed his training when word of his family's slaughter reached him. By the time he returned to Montrose, all that remained were the very blackened stones he'd ordered his men to leave this day.

Truly this day must end his thirst for vengeance, Rolf muttered. For there was no mistake of the quarry William was nigh overtaking.

Aldrich de Broune's tall tuft of black hair could hardly be mistaken, nor the crooked beak protruding from his face, the hard cruel lines around mouth and eyes. Rolf spotted him anon when they arrived at Leawick at daybreak and after dispatching the cowardly men that charged in waves at first sight of the siege to commence, he'd been charged to keep the man in sight ere he managed to slip away as he'd done so many times they had tried to corner him.

Leawick was de Broune's most impressive holding to date, and it was more than niggling doubt that crept through Rolf's mind now as to how he'd come to reside behind the thick stone walls. He'd uncovered rumors far from the lands held by the current lord, that de Broune laid waste to the previous lord and taken over some three years prior, but that there was no legal way to oust the man, as he had promptly married Lord Leawick's only heir, a daughter, and convinced the king that the girl loved him dearly. As long as the rents were paid, the king didn't trouble himself with local disputes, particularly those far removed from court. And since England did not rush to war in foreign lands as was custom long before any of them were born, he had little interest in de Broune's sordid past in Normandy.

But Rolf wondered. As they drew closer to Leawick, through the demesne lands and saw gaunt eyes and frail bodies, he well read the fear mingled with only a tiny spark of hope mayhap, that this challenge to de Broune might end their suffering.

Of course, William could not see past the blinding rage that had consumed him for too long. All he saw was the prey, closer than ever, the assurances that de Broune did not leave this fortress – and after hours of battling to get behind the walls into the bailey, Rolf had no doubt that this was a fortress.

Rolf, do we take it?

His eyes turned to the man approaching.

Or does my liege wish it destroyed?

It would be a tragedy to destroy such a defensible castle. Rolf sighed. Would he risk incurring William's wrath should de Broune escape again? Mayhap he would, for he could not forget the eyes of de Broune's living victims, even though William could not see past those who died that he well loved.

He shook his head strongly. Nay, Hugh, do not lay it to waste. The gate is fallen. Take the men within and kill the retainers in service to de Broune. The rest should be sequestered for questioning.

Aye? Truly?

Rolf nodded. There is no escape for de Broune this time. William is like to have him skewered or in custody by now. I retrieve my destrier anon to assist him. This keep is our due, Hugh. Instruct the men thusly, and await my return when all is secure.

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. Sweet Jesu! This madness is finally at an end!

Rolf watched as the ground force moved swiftly through the battered gate into the castle. More screams echoed through the smoke and dust that clogged the air. He retreated from it and mounted the large beast held by William's squire. "If I am not back ere the sun sinks from sight, retrieve the men and send them to follow, for surely it will mean that de Broune has eluded his due yet again."

Eldred stifled the groan in his young throat but nodded. Aye, Rolf.

They were all weary of William's single-minded focus. Past weary by five years, truth be told. 'Twas loyalty that propelled them on this quest for the blood of a bastard best drowned at birth.

Rolf urged his mount in the direction he'd sent William, but did not travel far before he met his liege, though William never treated him as a man who owed him aught. Nay, they were kin, but beside that friends, and it was that tie that kept him bound to William these many years.

He chuckled softly. Is that bundle dead or simply senseless? He gestured to the lump dragged behind William's destrier.

For the first time in longer than either man could remember, William's lips curled upward with genuine pleasure. Oh, he is most assuredly alive, Rolf, and after all this time, he is mine, to suffer what whims may strike me until the day he begs for death. And then it will not come. Not until I have recompense for all who have suffered at his hand.

Good, Rolf said gruffly. I take it I shall not suffer rebuke for telling the men to merely take Leawick rather than lay it to waste?

Even better, William grinned with wicked gleaming in his eyes, for de Broune swears it came to him honorably, and I would like nothing more than to see him suffer the same loss he dealt me ere I kill him. What say you, Rolf? Shall he die as my father did, or shall he meet the same fate as my sisters and mother?

Rolf turned toward the fearful whimpering that rose from the ground behind William's destrier. He muttered a curse under his breath. Truly de Broune had no honor. 'Twill not be long before that one cries mercy, eh William? He already weeps like a frightened babe now.

Mayhap he lied when I asked if he remembered them, William glared at the man struggling to his knees now. He foreswore this was a case of mistaken identity, Rolf. I should like to question his villeins and see if they say aught to shed light on the matter. Do you hurry back now and make sure that none of the villeins within the bailey are killed.

Nay, William. I already instructed the men to kill only those armed and in service to de Broune, to merely detain the rest for your questions.

Please! de Broune shrieked. I am not this man! I swear it, I am not him!

Yet you have no honor, William spat, for no honorable lord would abandon his castle, his people, those sworn to serve and defend his keep!

Rolf stared hard at the sniveling man who literally begged leniency from William now, on bended knee with hands clasped in surrender. Nay, he did not believe they found the wrong man, for too many en route confirmed that de Broune was at Leawick these past three years, years they had wasted searching France for him.

William turned the destrier enough that it jerked de Broune back into the dirt. I am no fool, Lord Leawick. Mayhap you have simply laid low too many souls to remember since you destroyed Montrose nigh unto ten years ago, but 'tis you I seek, have sought relentlessly these many years, and for each one I have suffered in my loss, you shall suffer forthwith at my hand, praying for the day my family is avenged and my sword tastes your blood.

Montrose! de Broune gasped, then quickly covered, But I have never heard of the place, sir!

Aye, yet he remembers it now, William. Had he waited a fortnight, he could've slaughtered you all, eh?

Had he waited, 'twould've been his blood and guts spilled, his body left to decay in the water, bloated and fed upon by fish!

De Broune paled in the fading sunlight, which prompted Rolf to urge William back to Leawick ere Eldred issued new orders and some of the cowards in vassalage to de Broune had opportunity to escape their due.

Chapter 2

If any doubt existed, it had all been Rolf's, and it vanished the moment he and William rode through the destroyed gate into the bailey at Leawick. It must've been a hundred filthy faces huddled in the keep whose terrified faces slowly transformed into relief at the sight of their lord reduced to quivering sobs behind William's destrier.

That relief did not last long, for it was quickly replaced by wary mistrust. And who could blame them? These serfs could not know that William was nowise the monster from whom they'd just been freed.

Who speaks for these people? William's voice boomed into the hazy silence.

A woman with jowls that spoke to her once robust size pushed her way through the crowd of terrorized servants. My lady speaks for us, if she's still living, milord.

William, he said gruffly. William will do. And who might you be, madam?

Margaret, sire. And my lady has not been seen or heard from these past three years since that one killed 'er father!

William followed the trembling finger that aimed in fury at de Broune.

I was the lady's nurse from the moment she first drew breath, sire, and that one done locked her away after he forced her to be 'is wife!

She lies, de Broune rasped. It's all lies, Montrose.

The breeze that was clearing the smoke from the thatched roofs and rafters of the burned buildings hit William then, carrying with it another unmistakable odor. William's head jerked back at the repugnance that assaulted him. Deftly, he untied the rope from his saddle and tossed it to Rolf. Secure him. I want him guarded. No less than ten men. And see to it that these people are fed and bathed.

His eyes impaled Margaret. You are coming with me, madam. We needs speak in private for what I must know of this place.

She cast one last defiant glare at de Broune and followed William across the bailey toward the great hall.

Tell me of the true Lord of Leawick, Maggie, he said.

'Tis Margaret, milord.

He stopped walking abruptly and turned around. One eyebrow arched high on his forehead. Aye, is it, Maggie? Since I have rescued you from a man you seem to despise, I suppose I might have right to call you what I please.

Aye, Maggie will do, she grumbled, though only my lamb has ever called me Maggie, milord, and it hurts to hear it just now.

He watched two tiny tears leave muddy streaks on her cheeks. As most men had no tolerance for weeping women, William thought to reinforce to Margaret that he was no different, though in truth, they did not bother him in the least. And why should they? Tender emotions belonged to women, and should not be denied. At least, this was the lesson his mother imparted before she shed the last tears of her life.

Aye, then Margaret it is. Your previous lord, you said that de Broune murdered him?

She frowned. I said he killed him, milord.

But I know de Broune. Are you saying that he challenged Leawick and fairly won his advantage here?

Nay, she whispered.

William watched the agony of her memory flicker through tired brown eyes. He recognized pain better than anything else, sadly, for it was all he could remember for too long now. It changed him, hardened him, and in part was the reason that seeing such emotion in others did not touch him.

Then it was murder?

Cut him down without warning, and after milord hired him and his men to defend Leawick from the advances of another that set his eyes on this accursed place.

Accursed? Surely 'tis not that, Margaret.

Since our lady died nigh ten years ago, it has felt that way, she said softly. I thought … prayed, milord, that when Alina came of age and found love that the light might return to this place, but nay. It will never happen now, for I fear the worst.

Alina …

Our lady, milord, the cause of the fighting to begin with. She was too young, and her father knew this, but still the wretched men came, all wanting her, wanting this place for themselves, and the master wasn't about to give her to them at such a tender age. Why –

Halt, madam. I am confused. I thought your lady died ten years ago.

Aye, milord's wife did, but my lamb was aged but seven years then.

He scowled darkly. Are you telling me that de Broune thought to marry a mere child?

Nay, milord. For another seven years, it seemed no one thought of my lamb at all, leastwise not with that intent, but when she was ten and four, she was so beautiful, that the temptation of her and Leawick was too much for those greedy bastards – beg pardon, milord –

It is all right, Margaret. So you're saying that when your … lamb …

Aye. She was ten and four when the master hired that brute to protect Leawick from those who might take my lamb by force, only de Broune had the same mind, and he cut down Lord Leawick and married my lamb that same day. He hied off to the king with proof of the wedding, and it was accepted, so the challenges nigh stopped.

But not entirely?

Nay, a widow is worth like to a virgin, sire, especially when the prize is Leawick.

Hmm, so I noticed.

She wilted a little, cringed away from the hulking man who mayhap might've ended the woes at Leawick, but mayhap be just as vile as de Broune. Might I be bold, milord, and ask why you have come here?

She watched the muscles of his jaw tighten and flex into a fearful hardness.

Aye, you may ask, Margaret. Nigh around the time your lady Alina died, de Broune was in Normandy, laying waste to Montrose, to my family and what I held dearest to my heart. I have spent these years hunting him wherever he went, wherever he killed and raped and stole, to have his blood on my hands as he did those I loved.

Margaret burst into tears. Nay, say it not! She cannot be dead!

William frowned. Who? Madam, do you think to presume you know my family?

Nay, my lady Alina! He has been sending food to the tower in the keep these past years, but he uses Sarah, who is mute and cannot tell us if my lamb lives or if this is his cruelty manifest, to trick us to keep serving his needs with the hope that she is well.

But you said your lady died –

Aye, Lady Selina did die, milord, but her daughter, my precious lamb Alina was forced to wed that beast and I have not seen her or spoken to her these three years past. Do you go to the keep now, milord, and see if she still lives. I pray you, sire.

His cold gray eyes impaled Margaret. I will go anon. But lady or no, if she has sired sons or daughters by de Broune, they too shall die at my hand, for I will leave no trace of the man living!

She gasped and dug fingers deeply into William's muscled forearm. Do not harm her if she lives, I beg, good sir. The lamb has suffered enough, as have we all! De Broune be the monster who killed your family, pray you do not do the same to ours.

William sighed heavily. 'Twas true. If the lady had indeed been forced into marriage to de Broune, children of that union were no fault of her own. Best you come with me, madam, ere we determine what additional sins de Broune must answer for. But I cannot swear not to kill him, even if by some ungodly fate he managed to win the affections of your lady.

Margaret bristled, but nodded.

I suppose you do not have any idea where in the keep de Broune has sequestered your lady.

Nay, and the men who led Sarah be dead, milord. I would ask her to show us, but I fear she would not understand.

Deaf and mute?

Margaret frowned. I know not, sire, just that she has never spoken since she came to Leawick.

And when was that?

She was with de Broune when he took Leawick. I know not from whence she came.

Aye, well, not worth the waste of time, William said. Wait anon outside in the bailey while I summon Rolf and Eldred to assist us in this search.

And anon it was. Margaret was barely outside when William merely beckoned with a swift nod of his head toward two of his men.

We needs search the keep, William explained. Margaret says de Broune has hidden her lady Alina away somewhere within, if she still lives, and that she is his legitimate claim to Leawick.

Then they are wed?

Aye, Rolf, William grumbled. Seems taking the place may not be so easily accomplished after all, leastwise not until we see what the wench offers by way of explanation. Of no matter. As Margaret pointed out, a widow is nigh as valuable as a virgin, so we shall proceed, though it may alter my plans for de Broune.

I'm sure he will be pleased, Rolf grinned.

You need not look so pleased yourself, Rolf, for I care not one way or the other how long it takes to make his wife a widow. And her consent is hardly important. Should the tale Margaret wove be true, I doubt she will mind his slow demise much at all.

Christ's blood! Eldred gasped as they crossed the small drawbridge over the inner moat to the keep. What is that stench?

Margaret scowled at his blasphemy. If you knew de Broune at all, you wouldst not ask, child, for you would well know what he does with the dead.

Rolf? Eldred's voice dropped to a low, uneasy tone.

Aye, Eldred, we have kept you from the carnage for your tender years, but the mistress speaks the truth. It has been somewhat common for us to find those de Broune murders merely tossed into the moats surrounding his plundered dwellings to warn those who might think to take him on.

Then … then those are dead people?

Blissfully so at this point, Eldred. Speak of it no more, William brusquely ended the lad's inquiry, but said as an aside to Rolf, Yet we needs discuss later how this might be remedied, for I cannot bear this abomination reminding me of things best left forgotten now.

Rolf sighed. It was the single memory he knew haunted his friend, finding his family discarded in the same manner. His hand rested on Margaret's shoulder. Mistress, do you have a priest here that can perform service for the dead?

Nay, and her eyes drifted back toward the moat. That beast had no use for the priest after he forced my lamb to wed.

Are we like to find more of de Broune's cowards within this keep, Margaret? William asked at the heavy doors atop the stairs to the keep.

They were all sent out to fight, milord. Those closest to de Broune stayed with him, yonder, she pointed to the dead slain after the gate to the bailey fell. They helped him escape just nigh to your men breeching the gate and ere they could run with him.

Are you certain? William cast a wary glance back at the men holding the bailey.

I have no loyalty to de Broune. Margaret bristled in her affront. 'Tis m'lady who has that and always shall! If you lack the courage to find what 'er fate's been all this while, I can do it m'self!

Rolf bit back his grin.

Eldred gasped at the gall of the woman to not only insinuate that William lacked courage, but that she possessed more of it.

William's eyes narrowed, but he spoke no further, merely grasped the heavy iron ring on the large door to the keep and shoved it open. He did however, push past Margaret before she could rush in ahead of him.

Being unfamiliar with the keep, William's advantage over the determined mistress ended at the threshold. Margaret dashed across the smaller hall for a stone staircase and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

He sighed heavily. Mayhap it would've been advisable to leave a burned out ruin, he muttered before following the frantic woman to the unknown above.

Chapter 3

Margaret was yelling with energy that none of them expected someone so wasted away in appearance might possess. She ran through the hallway of the upper floor screaming for her lamb at the top of her lungs.

Eldred jammed one finger into his ear and muttered, Christ's blood! Is she trying to wake the dead?

Easy, lad, William said. 'Tis obvious she loves this child as much as any mother. No doubt she has been frantic these three years past to see to her safety.

If indeed she still lives, Rolf said with a nod toward another stairwell at the end of the chilly corridor. A tower mayhap, my liege?

God's mercy, Rolf. Stop calling me that, William growled. We may as well follow ere she finds the worst and the lass is indeed dead. I would hate to see her throw herself out a window in her grief. I am certain she knows more than she's told me about de Broune's time at Leawick.

They found Margaret at the top of the stairwell trying to pry a heavy wooden bar from another door.

My lamb! 'Tis Maggie. Are you all right?

William frowned at the frantic sobbing coming from beyond the door. Muffled words, pathetic thumping. Christ's blood was right.

Stand aside, mistress. Rather than waiting, William merely lifted Margaret out of his way and hefted the heavy plank of wood out of the iron bracket holding it in place. Anyone within, stand away. I am opening the door.

Silence.

William yanked the latch and swung the heavy door inward. Crouched in the corner near the window was the tiniest creature he'd ever seen. His eyes pinned Margaret where