Lady of Luxembourg, page 8
part #4 of Curse of the Lost Isle Series
The false jovial tone infuriated Sigefroi, but shackled to the wall he could not stand or even change position, so he just glared.
Behind the guard appeared the archbishop, dressed in black leather, a sword hung from his baldric, and he carried a coiled whip at his belt. He moved his bulk with difficulty through the narrow gate and seemed rather pleased with himself as he descended into the cell.
His jowl trembled with excitement, as if he had good news to share. “Dear count, I am so glad you are awake. I need your help to solve a problem of mine.”
Sigefroi scoffed. The effort intensified the pounding in his head. “You expect me to help you, after the way you are treating us?”
“I am not your jailer, dear count.” The archbishop’s expression grew threatening. “But I do have power of life and death over your miserable carcasses. This should teach you to treat me like less than a guest of honor in your house, when I was your prisoner.”
“You never lacked comfort in my house, archbishop, only company.”
The archbishop straightened his frame as if offended. “I lacked the kind of respect due a prince of the Church.”
Disgusted by the prelate’s arrogance, Sigefroi focused his gaze on the flagstone floor. “So who is holding us here?”
“That’s not for me to say. I’m only here to pursue my own inquiry.”
Sigefroi glanced up and narrowed his stare upon the small, dark, beady eyes. “I shall not help you in any way.”
The archbishop looked away. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You would not want anything unpleasant to happen to your nephew... like daily torture, or a slow, painful death.”
He heard a gasp from Godfrey’s direction.
Gathering his anger, Sigefroi managed to sound fierce. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on my kinsman. My wife and my brothers will pay the bloody ransom. Unlike your family, mine will want us back, and quickly.”
“That is no way to start a long relationship, dear count.” Icy hatred filled the archbishop’s shiny eyes. “You see, your captor will not ask for a ransom. He intends to keep you here, where no one will look for you, until you die, or they forget your very existence.”
“But why?” Godfrey struggled against his bonds, only rattling his chains. “King Lothair of France will find us and save us from this pit.”
“That’s true.” Sigefroi wanted to believe it. He motioned toward the end of the wall with his chin. “Thierry is a French knight.”
The archbishop shrugged and chuckled. “Ah! King Lothair of France...” he said with emphasis. “Last time we spoke, we struck a bargain. You see, I offered to give him Verdun, if I could keep ruling it. In exchange, he would capture the sons of Lorraine for me... and let me decide their fate.”
“Lothair?” Sigefroi had been played by the French monarch, who meant to get rid of him and appropriate the imperial crown. “Two-faced, miserable excuse for a king!”
The archbishop inclined his head in false sympathy. “It was not wise to refuse to support his claim to the imperial throne. He will keep you here as long as I wish. And he would not be overly distressed if you met with an unfortunate... accident.”
Although his situation worsened with each revelation, Sigefroi had faith in Melusine. “My wife and my brothers will get us out of here, one way or another. You will regret this infamy.”
“I don’t believe they can ever find you.” A smirk stretched the archbishop‘s drooping jowls. “You see, they have no idea where you are, or who is holding you. And since only I and the king know, they have no way of finding out. Besides, any rescue attempt will result in your immediate executions.”
Realizing the depth of his predicament, Sigefroi made an attempt at diplomacy. “And what if I agree to cooperate?”
An angelic smile spread on the archbishop’s pudgy face. “Dear count, I knew you would see reason.” He rubbed his hands together. “I make no promises, but depending on your degree of guilt, I will consider pleading for clemency.”
“Guilt? What guilt?” Sigefroi struggled against the rage taking hold of him. “I did nothing wrong!”
The archbishop counted on his fat fingers. “First, I want you to tell me everything about the evil ondine that lurks in the waters of the river Alzette.”
“What?” Sigefroi’s hopes dwindled. If the pig ever learned the truth, Melusine would be doomed. “There are no such things as ondines.”
The archbishop shook his head. “Don’t tell me that. I felt that evil myself, when I laid siege to your castle.”
“You are mistaken, Your Grace.” Sigefroi dreaded the slant of this conversation.
The archbishop raised another finger. “Then I want to know why the Holy Father never received your report about the sightings of ondines on your estates.”
Sigefroi struggled to remain calm. He must keep a cool head. “There were no credible witnesses.”
The archbishop lifted a third finger. “What pact did you and your beautiful wife make with the forces of evil in order to become so quickly powerful?”
“This is ridiculous!” As he said it, Sigefroi felt an invisible brace tightening his chest. He could barely breathe.
“I want to know the true ancestry of your wife. I want to know how you were able to pay the considerable fine the papacy imposed upon you, and still thrive. I want to know why you and your consort still look so young, while everyone else around you ages.”
“Jesu! What are you talking about?” Sigefroi struggled to hide his apprehension. “There is no evil in Luxembourg. Only a well managed estate that grew prosperous, thanks to the many talents of my lady wife.”
“Your wife is no lady!” the archbishop snapped.
“You wouldn’t know anything about good wives, Your Grace.” Sigefroi allowed himself a mocking tone. “Only of camp wenches and concubines.”
The archbishop had a derogatory snort and turned slightly away.
Sigefroi averted his gaze. He did not see the whip fly but heard it crack. The sting made him wince as the braided leather lash tore his tunic, leaving a welt on his shoulder. He clenched his jaw but did not cry out.
“Do not think you have the luxury of insolence, dear count.” The archbishop coiled the whip slowly, deliberately, then he hooked it to his belt and motioned to the guard. “Take him to our special chamber, where I will interrogate him properly.” He offered Sigefroi a calculating smile. “‘Tis not so easy to lie or remain quiet under proper questioning.”
* * *
On the still water of her divining basin, Melusine saw a large chamber, deep in the bowel of a musty castle. On the wall hung frightening instruments of torture, the use of which she did not want to ponder. The stench of sweat and blood mixed with sour smells. Sigefroi lay on a rack, arms stretched over his head. His hands and feet, fettered in irons, were tied to ropes coiled around wood cylinders connected to a complicated apparatus of handles and pulleys.
Dear Goddess, no!
She could not stand seeing the man she loved in such defeat and torment. He tightened his jaw and bit his bloody lips, as if afraid to speak. A hooded tormentor cranked the mechanism. The rope tightened. Sigefroi emitted a long mournful cry that wrenched Melusine’s heart.
A wave of nausea overcame her, and she grabbed the rim of the stone basin for support. The next stretch from the hooded man produced another cry that sent Melusine reeling. She could watch no more.
Dear Goddess, help us all!
What could she do? She could not believe the archbishop would subject Sigefroi to such pain and humiliation. She wondered what the pig of Verdun wanted from Sigefroi. But most of all, how long could her husband endure such treatment?
The ransom missive should arrive any day now. Melusine busied herself to keep her mind off Sigefroi’s plight. Still, she checked on him regularly through the water basin. He had company in his dungeon, his nephew Godfrey was with him, as well as a knight named Thierry, a nephew of Duke Hugh Capet of France.
When no ransom request came, Melusine sent a messenger to Verdun. One month later, the messenger had not returned, so she sent another message.
Melusine lost her appetite and her clothes hung on her gaunt frame. Her hair lacked they usual luster, and she spent her nights awake and worrying.
Finally, after two months, the archbishop responded. Far from asking for a ransom, the prelate informed Melusine that her husband and his nephew were detained indefinitely with no hope of ransom. He threatened to kill them both if anyone took action, military or otherwise, against the archbishop or King Lothair of France.
The traitorous archbishop had joined King Lothair against the empire!
That night, when Melusine stared into the water basin, she couldn’t see Sigefroi. Had he died? The very thought sickened her. Outside, a summer storm rattled the shutters. In utter despair, Melusine dropped to the flagstone floor and implored the Great Goddess. To no avail. Powerless to save the man she loved, she sobbed, all alone, abandoned, even by the Great Mother.
Chapter Nine
When the sun rose on a cloudless sky, Melusine had overcome her self-pity. Sigefroi needed her. He couldn’t be dead. She would have sensed his passing. She had her doubts about her daring plan. But as Sigefroi’s only hope, she would not abandon him to whatever fate the archbishop plotted for him.
She faced her three sons in the library. “I came to the conclusion that only a princely bribe of gold and silver can change the archbishop’s mind. It will have to be something big, something a greedy man like the archbishop cannot possibly refuse.”
Henri, the eldest, now nineteen and as tall as his father, bristled with vengeful anger as he turned from the window to face his mother. “Why don’t we just kill that fat pig? I’ll go with Frederick. We’ll ask for a private audience, then we’ll skewer the archbishop before he can open his viper’s mouth!”
Melusine scoffed. “And get yourself killed by his guard? You’d never leave his fortress alive. And what would happen to your father? They’d kill him, too.” She smiled to soften the rebuke. “I fear you and your brothers lack in diplomatic skills.” She swept her hand along the rack of scrolls and books on the wall. “How many of these have you read?”
Frederick and young Thierry kicked each other’s legs under the table and snickered.
Henri shrugged. “Enough to know that books don’t win battles. Only skill and courage can do that. I’d rather fight and take what I want, than dance around and smile at my enemies.”
“I do not question your courage or your skills, Henri.” Melusine realized her children were very much like herself at their age. “But sometimes, there is reward in compromise. Battles are not won by courage alone. You will have to learn other skills in order to rule Luxembourg.”
Henri crossed his arms on his chest in defiance. “I haven’t done so bad in father’s absence.”
“You did very well and things are running smoothly,” Melusine sighed. “But this mission requires a politician. The archbishop is a slippery enemy. He switched alliances many times. This time, it seems that he joined King Lothair against the empire.”
“The archbishop must pay for his crimes.” Henri’s stubborn scowl reminded Melusine of his father.
“He may have killed our messengers. He will refuse to see you, or worse, he will take you prisoner as well.” Melusine observed the sobering effect of her words on her sons. “That’s why I decided to go to Verdun and confront the archbishop myself. He will not dare refuse me a personal audience.”
The three youths now stared at Melusine, eyes wide with disbelief. Melusine intended to use the protection of her Fae gifts, but her children did not know and should never know about them.
Henri paled. “Verdun sounds like a dangerous place for the Lady of Luxembourg.”
“On the contrary, my title will protect me. If anything happens to me in Verdun on an official visit, the archbishop will have to answer to the pope, the house of Lorraine, and the entire Germanic empire.”
Frederick pouted. “That did not stop the archbishop from taking our father.”
Melusine steeled herself at the thought of Sigefroi’s ordeal. She had to press on. “Your father and cousin are prisoners of war. A woman is a different matter. Any attempt against me by a prince of the church would be considered cowardly and criminal.”
Melusine wished she could tell her children about her Fae powers. But sharing what she really was with anyone else than Sigefroi would jeopardize her redemption from the curse, and could bring deadly consequences upon her entire family.
Henri slammed a fist on the windowsill. “I don’t want you to go to Verdun. There is no reason to rush. As a high ranking noble, I’m sure father is treated kindly.”
“You cannot forbid me, son.” Melusine could not tell them about Sigefroi’s wretched condition, since she could not explain how she knew of it. “All I need is a small escort. We’ll travel fast and light.”
Gazing out the window, Henri did not move or respond. His two brothers stared at Henri’s back then at Melusine.
“All right, then.” Melusine took a deep breath of relief. “If all goes well, I’ll send for the gold and silver and will be back with your father in time for the harvest.”
“I still don’t like it.” Henri’s brow furrowed like his father’s.
How she missed Sigefroi.
“Henri, I need your cooperation in order to save your father. Will you help me? Please.” As her son remained silent as the stones, she had no choice but to wield the Fae powers she swore she’d never use on her children. Weaving a silent spell strong enough to penetrate a child with Fae blood, she flooded Henri’s mind with loving thoughts of agreement.
Henri relaxed his stance. His brow smoothed as he faced his mother and broke into a rare smile. “The clouds have cleared. ‘Tis good traveling weather. It should hold for a few days, time enough for you to get to Verdun. I’ll take care of things here.”
Melusine returned the smile. “Your father will be proud of you... and grateful.” She went to hug her son, ridden with guilt about forcing his hand. Then she turned to her two other astonished sons. “All will go well, you’ll see.”
She hoped her magic would work as well on the archbishop’s twisted mind.
* * *
Four days later, after an uneventful journey, Melusine reached Verdun with her traveling party. She selected three loyal knights from her group and rode up to the imposing gate of the archbishop’s castle. The captain of the guard seemed surprised when Melusine stated her name and requested a private audience.
Within minutes, a dark youth in purple silk robes came to the gate and nodded to Melusine. “My lady, the archbishop will see you now,” the boy said with a warm Italian accent. “But your knights and your horses must remain outside the gate.”
When her protectors stepped closer to her, Melusine raised one hand to stop them. She felt a twinge of uncertainty. Was it wise to walk into the wolf’s lair alone? Unfortunately, in order to free Sigefroi, Melusine had no other choice.
She dismounted without help, handed the reins to one of her knights, then glanced up at the sun, well into its afternoon descent.
She projected her voice to be heard at twenty paces: “If I have not returned by sunset, send word to bring all the armies of Luxembourg and Lorraine.”
The three knights bowed in assent, and Melusine walked through the gate, alongside the young messenger.
On her way across the bailey, she extended her Fae gifts, searching for signs of Sigefroi’s presence. She could not sense him at all. Dear Goddess, she hoped he was still alive... and strong enough to escape.
As she and her escort entered the main hall at the base of the keep, guards and monks saluted the odd couple with respect... and a trace of fear. Who was her handsome, exotic guide? A monk? A student? Unlikely. Curious, Melusine mentally brushed his mind but withdrew when she realized the boy was the archbishop’s lover.
The young guide led her through a confusing maze of deserted stone passages then down and up narrow stairwells. She wondered whether he deliberately took a roundabout route, to make sure she could not retrace her way out of the three dimensional maze. Melusine’s chest tightened. Could this be a trap? No matter. She must proceed, and rely upon her Fae gifts to remain unscathed.
Finally, deep in the heart of the keep, they reached a guarded door. It opened on a large library lit by a high chandelier loaded with tallow candles. She saw no windows and no other door. The arched ceiling reminded Melusine of an ancient crypt, with two central pillars.
The walls, lined with wooden shelves, disappeared under mountains of scrolls, parchments, and heavy books bound in metal, wood, and leather. Melusine loved the smell of parchment. Several open coffers on the stone floor overflowed with more books and rolled documents. A wealth of knowledge. Even Luxembourg’s library seemed modest in comparison.
The archbishop must be richer than Melusine had imagined. She might have to increase the amount of the bribe in order to tempt him. Did she dare offer him land?
“Come in, my lady.”
Melusine startled at the sound of the archbishop’s grating voice.
As she walked toward the center of the vast room, she saw him. Sitting at a table set between the two central pillars. He studied a faded parchment, by the added light of a candelabra sitting on the table.
“Your Grace.” Melusine struggled to remember what she meant to say.
The archbishop straightened and leaned back in his high-back chair as he considered her with small rodent eyes.
Melusine composed herself and forced a friendly smile. “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”
The archbishop observed her between half-closed lids. He waved away the boy still standing in the open doorway. The youth bowed and walked away.
The prelate indicated a chair across the table. “What in God’s name can you possibly expect from me?”
Melusine heard the heavy door close behind her and cringed. Too edgy to sit, she remained standing and clutched the back of the empty chair for support. “Your Grace, you have something I want, and I think we can come to an agreement about a fitting compensation for my husband’s release.”
