the white mist still blanketing much of the bailey.
CHAPTER SEVEN
<_/”"´ tis as I told you," James said, a short while later. He peered into the dank interior of the long-deserted forge. "There is naught of use here."
Ignoring him, Marmaduke retrieved a wobbly three-legged stool from the shadows and used it to prop open the door. The once bustling workshop needed airing.
Dunlaidir's forge wasn't merely neglected, it smelled.
Of damp charcoal and rusting iron, of sea brine and mold.
And worse things he didn't care to identify.
A gust of brisk salt-laden air swept past him, blasting through the opened door to lift choking clouds of dust and ash off the hard-packed earthen floor.
"Let us be out of here." James wrinkled his nose in distaste, the flare of purpose he'd displayed in the hall rapidly fading. He crossed his arms. "I will not go in there."
Marmaduke quirked a grim smile at him. "Would you concede defeat before the battle is fought?"
"Only those battles too pointless to pursue," James said, scarce loud enough to be heard. "Like walking straight or me challenging two swords—"
"Two swordsmen?" Marmaduke voiced what he'd already guessed. "And why did you change your story? Why claim there was but one?"
James compressed his tips and turned away.
Beneath the other's silence, Marmaduke heard James's roiling frustration, louder and more penetrating than the screeching seabirds wheeling overhead.
Going to him, Marmaduke clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Together, we can bring the curs to heel," he said. "But only if you will trust me."
The younger man's brow creased, but when he gazed heavenward and blew out a long breath, Marmaduke knew he'd won this round. "Well?" he tried again, taking his hand from James's shoulder. "Why did you lie?"
"Because when I spoke the truth, the others laughed and declared I'd embellished the incident by insisting there were two when in truth I couldn't bear admitting I'd been bested by a single swordsman."
"So you let them believe what they wanted so they'd leave you be?"
James nodded.
"Mayhap that is as well, and we shall allow them to think that folly is the truth a while longer," Marmaduke said, glancing at the screaming gulls riding the air currents high above the forge.
"You believe me?" The incredulity in James's eyes spoke worlds.
"That I do," Marmaduke said, resting his hand almost casually on his sword-hilt "But the saints know I wish I didn't," he added, his deep voice suddenly threaded with steel.
The amazement vanished from James's face. "Pardon my confusion, sir, but how can you profess to believe me yet council silence about the second intruder?"
"If indeed he was an intruder. The man may have been invited, or assisted on his way out," Marmaduke said, carefully picking his words. "Mayhap both."
"That's madness." James shook his head. "I cannot believe it."
Marmaduke shrugged his mail-clad shoulders. "Several thorough searches were made, yet no trace of this elusive interloper could be found. Flesh and blood men do not vanish into thin air, my friend."
"And you believe someone in my household aided his escape?"
"I would give you my oath on it," Marmaduke returned. "Therefore it is prudent not to let anyone save, perhaps, the lady Caterine, know we are aware of any possible in-house treachery."
James stared at him, slack-jawed, but Marmaduke turned away before the younger man could further question him.
He knew much of in-house scheming and its dangers.
He carried the mark of such perfidiousness on his face and tasted the bile of its memory in the cold bitterness rising to choke him.
With a broad sweep of his arm, he cast aside a swaying curtain of cobwebs and stepped into the chill damp of the forge. "We can speak of this later," he said, glancing over his shoulder at James. "For now, we need a few sound pieces of grating to seal the garderobe chute."
"You speak as if such a task were simple." James hovered on the
CHAPTER SEVEN
<_/”"´ tis as I told you," James said, a short while later. He peered into the dank interior of the long-deserted forge. "There is naught of use here."
Ignoring him, Marmaduke retrieved a wobbly three-legged stool from the shadows and used it to prop open the door. The once bustling workshop needed airing.
Dunlaidir's forge wasn't merely neglected, it smelled.
Of damp charcoal and rusting iron, of sea brine and mold.
And worse things he didn't care to identify.
A gust of brisk salt-laden air swept past him, blasting through the opened door to lift choking clouds of dust and ash off the hard-packed earthen floor.
"Let us be out of here." James wrinkled his nose in distaste, the flare of purpose he'd displayed in the hall rapidly fading. He crossed his arms. "I will not go in there."
Marmaduke quirked a grim smile at him. "Would you concede defeat before the battle is fought?"
"Only those battles too pointless to pursue," James said, scarce loud enough to be heard. "Like walking straight or me challenging two swords—"
"Two swordsmen?" Marmaduke voiced what he'd already guessed. "And why did you change your story? Why claim there was but one?"
James compressed his tips and turned away.
Beneath the other's silence, Marmaduke heard James's roiling frustration, louder and more penetrating than the screeching seabirds wheeling overhead.
Going to him, Marmaduke clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Together, we can bring the curs to heel," he said. "But only if you will trust me."
The younger man's brow creased, but when he gazed heavenward and blew out a long breath, Marmaduke knew he'd won this round. "Well?" he tried again, taking his hand from James's shoulder. "Why did you lie?"
"Because when I spoke the truth, the others laughed and declared I'd embellished the incident by insisting there were two when in truth I couldn't bear admitting I'd been bested by a single swordsman."
"So you let them believe what they wanted so they'd leave you be?"
James nodded.
"Mayhap that is as well, and we shall allow them to think that folly is the truth a while longer," Marmaduke said, glancing at the screaming gulls riding the air currents high above the forge.
"You believe me?" The incredulity in James's eyes spoke worlds.
"That I do," Marmaduke said, resting his hand almost casually on his sword-hilt "But the saints know I wish I didn't," he added, his deep voice suddenly threaded with steel.
The amazement vanished from James's face. "Pardon my confusion, sir, but how can you profess to believe me yet council silence about the second intruder?"
"If indeed he was an intruder. The man may have been invited, or assisted on his way out," Marmaduke said, carefully picking his words. "Mayhap both."
"That's madness." James shook his head. "I cannot believe it."
Marmaduke shrugged his mail-clad shoulders. "Several thorough searches were made, yet no trace of this elusive interloper could be found. Flesh and blood men do not vanish into thin air, my friend."
"And you believe someone in my household aided his escape?"
"I would give you my oath on it," Marmaduke returned. "Therefore it is prudent not to let anyone save, perhaps, the lady Caterine, know we are aware of any possible in-house treachery."
James stared at him, slack-jawed, but Marmaduke turned away before the younger man could further question him.
He knew much of in-house scheming and its dangers.
He carried the mark of such perfidiousness on his face and tasted the bile of its memory in the cold bitterness rising to choke him.
With a broad sweep of his arm, he cast aside a swaying curtain of cobwebs and stepped into the chill damp of the forge. "We can speak of this later," he said, glancing over his shoulder at James. "For now, we need a few sound pieces of grating to seal the garderobe chute."
"You speak as if such a task were simple." James hovered on the
Similar Books
