Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me (18 page)

He grabbed her wrist and squeezed tight. “You will do what I say or know the consequences.”

Fear washed through her as she thought of William’s story of those the bishop had injured. With weakness still blanketing her, she didn’t feel strong enough to fight him but healing now would prove too great of risk. She had to find a way to appease the bishop so she could continue looking for information on her mother.

“Surely you would rather I recover so that I might heal this person completely. If I am not at my best, my efforts will be
unsuccessful. Then he will doubt my ability and think you are only after his money.”

Her wrist hurt where he
continued to squeeze it but she held still, waiting to see if her words sunk in past his anger.

“This is far from over.
Your attitude is unacceptable, just like your—” He stopped abruptly.

“
Like who?” she asked, her heart stuttering.

He
pursed his lips then pulled her toward the door. “You will remain in your chamber until I say differently. Do I make myself clear?”

“I am not a child
—”

“Then stop acting like one. Father
Markus!” he called out.

The priest
opened the door, his gaze taking in the hold the bishop had on her with no reaction. “Yes, my lord bishop?”

“Lady Cristiana is to be kept locked in her chamber until I request her presence on the morrow.”

“And if I refuse?” Cristiana asked.

“You no longer have a choice.
”

“
Release me.” She jerked her wrist from his grip. Gaining that bit of freedom gave her a small measure of satisfaction.

He called to a man-at-arms and ordered him to escort her to her room with Father Markus.

“This way, my lady,” Father Markus gestured toward the stairs, his flat brown eyes showing little emotion.

“
Be prepared for the morrow,” the bishop called out as she moved away. “There will be no more delays.”

She didn’t bother to reply.
She wasn’t certain how she was going to get out of this situation. William had been right. The bishop was a dangerous man. She was playing a dangerous game.

“I knew you were trouble from the day you arrived,” Father Markus said as he walked by her side
, the man-at-arms directly behind them.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you think I didn’t notice your meeting with the knight your first night here?”

“I do not appreciate you spying on me.”

He raised his brows. “That wouldn’t be necessary if you weren’t up to something. It will be my pleasure to discover what it is.”

A glance at his expression made her shiver. His idea of pleasure seemed to be much different than hers.

He opened the door of her chamber and gestured for her to enter.

“Why thank you,” she said with a polite smile, hoping to irritate him.

Without another word, he closed the door behind her. She waited a moment, until she heard the lock click and the muffled sound of voices faded.

Cristiana withdrew the folded parchment from the neck of her kirtle with shaking hands. She ran her finger along the stiff parchment, taking small comfort in the knowledge that her mother had held it as well.

She closed her eyes, trying to gather the courage to read it. Would her mother’s words confirm what Cristiana had come to fear? That her mother was not the person she’d believed her to be?

The idea of her keeping secrets hurt. Cristiana had thought their relationship was close. To be shown otherwise left her feeling betrayed.

But she hadn’t come all this way to hide from the truth. Whatever the letter said would at the very least provide more clues as to what her mother’s relationship with the bishop had been.

She drew a deep breath
to gather her courage then unfolded the letter.

‘My Dearest Thomas,
It pains me deeply to write this letter, but your actions have left me no choice. Once again, you have made promises that you failed to keep.

This situation is about so much more than simply you and I. It is that very fact that spurs me to take action. I know this will not please you, but I have tried for far too long to do that and only failed. Your preferences are no longer my concern.
You are no longer the man I once knew, and those changes are not for the better.

I give you fair warning that I intend
to share our past with others with the hope that you will be forced to take responsibility for your actions.

My heart breaks for what we’ve lost and the pain we have caused others
, especially C. May she and God forgive us both.

M
.

Tears filled Cristiana’s eyes
as she traced her mother’s initial. She must have felt such pain and despair when she’d written this. Yet what had she meant? What had they done and how had it affected others?

In truth, the letter raised more questions than it answered, except for one vital thing. Bishop Duval had known her mother.
Known her quite well, in fact.

Why had he lied about it?

***

William waited with Henry
later that afternoon in the chapter house where the business of the abbey was conducted. The prior, who managed the day-to-day affairs of the abbey, had told them Abbot Clarke would be with them soon.

The ornate, vaulted room held stone benches along the edges. Not the most comfortable place to sit, but William was too restless to do so anyway.
The bells in the abbey tolled, reminding William that time was passing quickly.

“Good day, William, Henry,” the abbot said as he
strode into the room. He reached out both hands to clasp theirs in turn. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit? From the somber expressions you carry, I must assume you have bad news to share.”

“Pe
rhaps concerns would be a more suitable description,” William began. They had no proof of anything, so this meeting was premature at best, but he felt compelled to take action of some sort.

“I will do what I can to help,” the abbot said.

As William looked at him, he was reminded once again of why he liked and trusted Abbot Clarke. As a man, he seemed intelligent and capable, exuding confidence. But he had another layer, a deeper one that contained an inner peace that shone through.

“How well do you know Bishop Duval?” Henry asked.

“Well enough to know he can be a difficult man at times.”

“We’ve recently learned of some of his actions that could be described as
brutal,” William said.

The abbot raised his brows.
“Are you certain it wasn’t from a disgruntled servant? Or perhaps someone who was turned away from the cathedral? The bishop believes that giving handouts only encourages people to ask for more. We’ve received a few complaints here about his lack of generosity.”

“Nay.
This was from one of the masons working at the cathedral.” William told him what they’d learned from the two men they’d met on their journey.

Abbot Clarke frowned, obviously as concerned as they were. “If the two men have left Longsbury with no intention of returning, it will be difficult to prove anything. What do you know of the boy with the broken fi
ngers?”

“Unfortunately nothing.
We did not ask his name, but we may be able to find him.” William thought perhaps Aldwin could ask some of the other children if they knew who the boy was.

“I hate to think the bishop could act so cruelly. We will have to hear his
side of this.”

“
There is also the matter of the relic,” William added.

“The one you obtained from Madesborough?”

“Aye.” William explained the circumstances surrounding it, how it had seemed as if the bishop had somehow forced the church in Madesborough to give him the relic but had given them nothing in return.

“Bishop Duval was
to acquire it with funds the chapter set aside for that purpose,” the abbot said.

“We gave them nothing,” Henry advised him. “Father Daniel told us we were only to speak with one particular priest there and he gave us the relic only, not the reliquary that contained it.”

“That is not what was agreed upon.” Abbot Clarke shook his head. “What did the bishop do with the money the chapter provided for the relic?”

“Excellent question,” William said.

“Abbot Clarke?” The prior hurried into the room, eyes wide with alarm. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but we need you immediately.”

“What is it?”

The prior looked at William and Henry, as though uncertain if he should speak in front of them.

“Proceed,” the abbot told him. “They are trustworthy.”

“A body has been discovered in the pond by the barn. It’s...that is to say...”

“Out with it man,” the abbot prodded.

“I believe it is the body of Father Charles.”

As Father Daniel escorted Cristiana into the hall for the mid-day meal, she saw that
her opportunity to confront the bishop about the letter her mother had written him was finally at hand.

She’d spent the majority of the
morn locked in her chamber cut off from the outside world. Other than attending mass this morn with Father Daniel as her companion, she’d been left alone. Physically, the additional rest had done her good. Mentally was another matter.

Words had played through her mind as she’d tried to determine the best way to
tell the bishop she knew all about his lies. She had to control the anger that flowed through her. While she knew he was only a man, she had higher expectations than to be told falsehoods from a priest let alone a bishop.

She nodded to Father Daniel as he gestured to
ward the bench beside the bishop at the high table. For once, she was happy to do as told. Confronting the bishop in a place where he’d be forced to behave civilly was better than she could’ve hoped for.

“Good day, Cristiana.”
Despite his greeting, his attention remained on the other occupants of the hall.

“
I wouldn’t know as I’ve spent it locked in my chamber.”

He scowled in response
but still didn’t look at her as she took a seat on the bench. “Act more cooperatively and that wouldn’t be necessary.”

“
I—”

He lifted his hand. “If you would like to dine in the hall, I suggest you watch your tongue.”

She drew a breath, trying to calm herself. “Why are you lying to me?”

“
Lying? About what?”

“
My mother.” Her voice trembled on the word, still unable to believe this man and the strong, courageous woman who’d raised her by herself could’ve been involved in any way.

He didn’t bother to look at her. Instead, he helped himself to some of the fish on the trencher before him, acting as though her comment was of no consequenc
e.

“I’ve told you before, I don’t remember her.”

“I have the letter she wrote you.” She watched him closely, waiting for a reaction but saw none.

“I don’t know
to what you’re referring.”

“I have the ring she took from you.” She was only guessing, but she hadn’t been able to think of any
other way it had come to be in her mother’s possession.

His hands stilled on the bread he’d been tearing off
, causing her heart to pound, but then he shook his head. “Cristiana, you make no sense. Are you still feeling poorly?”

“What was she to you?”
she asked.

“Nothing.
As you will be to me if you don’t heal Lord Ballard soon after our meal. He’ll arrive soon.”

“I have
—”

He turned
to give her his full attention for the first time, the coldness in his blue eyes giving her pause. “You
have
nothing. You
know
nothing. Obviously you need additional rest. I will have someone escort you back to your chamber.”

“You can’t keep me locked
away forever.” Her heart pounded with fear that perhaps he could.

“Until you come to your senses, you will remain there unless I require your assistance.” He gestured to Father Markus.

“Tell me,” she demanded as the priest drew near and her opportunity slipped away. “How did you know her?”

“Good d
ay.” He looked up at the priest. “The lady isn’t hungry after all. Please take her back to her chamber.” Those cold blue eyes rested on her once more. “If you wish to have a pleasant life here, I would suggest you learn to do as I say, beginning with Lord Ballard. Do I make myself clear?”

Father Markus to
ok her elbow but she jerked away. A glance around the hall showed she wouldn’t receive any assistance. Most of those dining in the hall kept their gazes averted from her.

The bishop had bested her once again. Now what was she to do?

***

As
the sharp pain eased and weakness flooded her, Cristiana realized she’d made a terrible mistake by healing too soon. She’d overestimated her strength. Her vision darkened but she fought it, determined not to faint.

“Oh!” cried
Lord Ballard. “’Tis a miracle!”

Bishop Duval had
placed his hands on her shoulders as she’d healed, murmuring a prayer, but now that she could’ve used his support, he released her and stepped away.

She swayed on her knees, trying to hold on to consciousness. The lord took her arm to steady her. “Are you
all right, my lady?”

“Pay her no mi
nd,” the bishop said. “She is frail from healing, but it will soon pass. A more important question is how do you feel?”

“So much better.”
Lord Ballard released her arm and drew a deep breath as though to prove it. “The pain in my body is gone. I can breathe easily again.” He patted Cristiana’s arm. “Truly unbelievable! I cannot thank you enough.”

She
managed to smile at his sincere gratitude. Though she’d debated refusing to heal him, she determined it best to attempt to appease the bishop by cooperating. She had no doubt the bishop would keep her locked away unless she did as he bid her. After trying to pick the lock on her door unsuccessfully, she’d decided she had no choice. Healing this lord would put her back in the bishop’s good graces at least temporarily, allowing her to make additional inquiries.

Or so she hoped.

Now she wanted only to return to her chamber to lie down but didn’t know how she’d make it there on her own. Perhaps if she waited a few moments, some of the exhaustion would pass.

“The donation you offered was quite generous,” the bishop told the lord. “It will
aid the changes we’re making at the cathedral.”

“I hope some of it goes to this young lady. Her powers are remarkable.”
The awe in the man’s voice made Cristiana uncomfortable.

As she opened
her mouth to thank him, the bishop spoke.

“Lady Cristiana finds much joy in helping others.
That is thanks enough for her. The two of us together perform amazing feats. Would you care for a tour of the cathedral now that you’re feeling better?”

The two
left the bishop’s chamber with no further comments to Cristiana. She rose to her feet with the aid of the bench, hoping she could make it to her room when Father Markus entered.

“May I assist you to your chamber?”

She glanced at him warily, wishing Father Charles hadn’t left. Sister Mawde had returned to the convent the previous day and Cristiana felt very much alone here now. The more she was around Father Markus, the less she cared for him. But at the moment, she had little choice.

“That would be most kind of you.”

At least now that she’d healed Lord Ballard and Bishop Duval had received the donation he’d been so desperate for, she’d have her freedom back. That was the only reason she’d agreed to heal the lord. Remaining locked in her chamber would gain her nothing.

She
reluctantly leaned on the priest as they made their way to her chamber. At the door, she stood on her own, taking this moment to assert her independence despite how weak she still felt.

Father Markus pulled a key from the belt of his robe.

“You don’t intend to lock my door again,” Cristiana said, trembling as her strength ebbed.

“But of cours
e. The bishop says you are to remain locked in unless escorted by one of us.”

Outrage poured through her
. “I healed the lord as the bishop requested.”

“True, but you have yet to agree to the bishop’s vision, to his plans. Until that time, you are to be under lock and key.” He
held the key before her face and smiled.

“I would speak with the bishop about this immediately.”

“Do you intend to agree with his plans?”

“That is no business of yours. I demand to speak with him.”

Father Markus sneered. “You are in no position to make demands. I will tell Bishop Duval of your request when he is done entertaining his guest. Until then,” he opened her door, “get inside.”

“Nay.”
Cristiana stepped back, anger lending her strength.

The priest grabbed her arm, making no attempt to be gentle.
“You’ll do as you’re told.” He shoved her inside, causing her to stumble. He pulled the door shut and turned the key.

Cristiana sank to the floor
, frustration and fear spiraling through her. Neither cooperation nor defiance had gained her anything. What was she to do now?

***

“One of the servants told me she’s locked in her chamber,” Aldwin reported to William and Henry, shuffling his feet as though nervous to be the bearer of bad news.

“
Explain,” William demanded, filled with trepidation. What had Cristiana done to warrant such treatment?

“The
servant I spoke with insists she’s resting but told me there’s a servant standing guard at the door and no one is allowed in without the bishop’s permission.”

William wanted to storm into the manor and take Cristiana.
Was she all right? Had the bishop tried to force her to do something? It wouldn’t surprise him in the least. Far worse—had he harmed her in some way to bend her to his will?

The
terrible image of Father Charles’ body was uppermost in William’s mind. The priest’s legs had been bound with a basket of rocks, weighting him down. Abbot Clarke thought the priest had chosen to end his own life, but after looking closely at the body, William was convinced of foul play. The marks around his neck seemed unlikely to have been anything the priest could do on his own. William didn’t think it a coincidence that Father Charles had turned up dead after arguing with the bishop.

A
bbot Clarke had determined the information William had given him plus the discovery of the body of a priest who’d spent so many years with the bishop were compelling enough to warrant a trip to the archbishop. Though the abbot promised to present all they’d learned to the archbishop, William knew the abbot wasn’t completely convinced of the bishop’s guilt. Instead, he seemed to believe a series of unfortunate circumstances had befallen Bishop Duval.

William
and Henry didn’t.

They’d
argued that Abbot Clarke should confront the bishop now, but the abbot had refused, insisting this was a matter for the archbishop. The abbot had sworn those who knew of the body to secrecy for they didn’t want the bishop to know of their suspicions before they had a chance to confront him.

Though unhappy at the delay, William could do nothing except
find a way to protect Cristiana while the abbot reported to the archbishop.

“We
’ve got to get her out,” he told Henry.

“
And quickly.”

“
Aldwin, see if you can get a message to her. Tell her—”

He stopped, uncerta
in what to say. So many things ran through his mind. The idea of her in any sort of danger infuriated him. The thought of her weak from healing worried him. Emotions he’d never felt before swirled through him, clouding his thoughts.

How could he
determine what should be done when he was so tangled up inside?

“Tell her help is on
the way.” He decided it best to keep it simple. He didn’t want his message to cause her worry, only to reassure her that she was not alone.

“
I’m not certain I can get a message to her,” Aldwin said.

“
Perhaps one of the servants would be willing to pass it to her. Above all, continue to watch. Send word immediately if anything changes.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,”
the boy promised.

William watched
him hurry toward the manor, wishing he was going with him, wondering if he should.

“I doubt Aldwin will be of much assistance while Cristiana is locked inside.”

“True. We need Branwen. She’ll have better luck getting inside and she’d do anything for Cristiana.”

“
I haven’t been able to find her of late. I stopped by the baker’s and it seems she hasn’t been there for the past two days.”

“Where could she have gone? We don’t need another mystery to solve.”

“I’ll keep looking for her. You realize that Cristiana may not be pleased to see us,” Henry suggested, hands on hips as he watched William. “Perhaps she’s not yet ready to be rescued if she’s still trying to discover more about her mother.”

“How much can she discover if she’s locked in her chamber?
The decision is no longer hers to make. We can only do what we think is right with the information we have.”

Henry nodded.

William ran his fingers through his hair, still unsettled with the whole situation.