Anna shook her head. “Royce cares solely for his gold and his taxes. He has taken the one person I loved most, so I shall take what he loves most.”
“It would be fitting vengeance,” Edgar agreed, then followed Anna.
“I would see him cheated of his desire,” Stewart added.
“I would see him discredited before the king,” added Lucan. “A baron who does not pay his taxes will not remain baron long.”
“It might be our best hope for change!” said Rowe and there was a chorus of assent.
They gathered around Anna, murmuring to each other of their enthusiasm for her ploy. Only Duncan did not move.
“Will you not join us?” Anna asked.
The Scotsman shook his head. “He taunted us,” he said softly and the company sobered. “What if it is a trap?”
“Or a feint,” Anna agreed, seeing his logic. She crouched down beside the older man. “Let us divide our ranks. Half shall go with me to attack the wagon. The rest shall remain with you, in case there is a second wagon to depart or some opportunity created by Father Ignatius to see Bartholomew avenged.”
“I must reclaim the reliquary,” Duncan insisted. “It was my responsibility to defend it.”
“So, we are agreed, then,” Anna said to the others. “The first priority must be to save the reliquary. Beyond that, all damage we can do to Royce is welcome. It will be our vengeance for the death of Bartholomew.”
They nodded with resolve, and it was only moments later that she led one band through the forest. Percy remained in Duncan’s care. Her company flitted like shadows through the forest, taking a shorter and more direct path, toward the bend in the road.
Anna fully intended that the blow they dealt to Royce was severe.
*
The smell of cedar rose to Father Ignatius’ nostrils from the coffin in the chapel. A candle burned on the altar, as if to keep the fallen in the light. He lifted the lid and winced at the injury that had been dealt to the maid who lay there. Even though she had been cleaned for burial, the savagery of the wound could not be disguised.
He felt Lady Marie come to stand beside him. Her maid came to stand on his other side and bumped against him as if she stumbled. He caught her elbow and she bowed her head, weeping. He supposed the two maids must have been close and the death of one would be difficult for the other to bear.
“I tire of living with barbarians,” Lady Marie said through her teeth and he saw the tears in her eyes as she surveyed the dead maid. The other maid fell to her knees before the altar. “I will linger in this hole no longer.”
The lady was resolute, hatred for her husband shining in her eyes.
“How will you depart? How will you see yourself defended?” Father Ignatius asked and Lady Marie smiled.
“It is best you do not know, Father, for you might be compelled to speak the truth when it is not convenient.”
There was merit in that argument.
“Where is the reliquary?” he murmured, his glance darting to the treasury beside the altar. The door to the cabinet hung askew, revealing that the space was empty.
“He means to send it to the king as a gift,” she said through her teeth.
The priest took a step toward the portal. “But the taxes are being dispatched to the king. We must hasten to intervene!”
Would Bartholomew discover its presence in time?
Was that why he had left the chapel?
Marie shook her head. “Nay, that wagon is a trick, intended to lure the rebels in the forest so they can be captured. Those trunks are filled with stones. Both taxes and gift will be dispatched only when the road is deemed to be safe.”
Father Ignatius feared then for Anna and her fellows.
“But where is the reliquary?”
“He keeps his treasury close, stored in his chamber at the summit of the tower. No man can enter that place without Royce’s express permission.”
