Bevan’s voice reached her ears, shockingly clear and close. He must have stood at the seam of the doors.
“I say we simply go on and kill her.”
There was a sharp, muffled reply from Judith Angwedd.
Bevan grunted. Then said, “If you’re so fearful of being caught, why not just let the peasant bastard have Gillwick? Hart Manor is twice its size, and I will have it regardless of Edward’s decree.”
Judith Angwedd must have taken offence to her son’sreasoning, for Alys could feel the sharp reverberations of the woman’s approaching footfalls through the wood of the wardrobe.
“Why settle for ten of something when you could have twenty? Why take some, when all is within your grasp?” she demanded in a raspy whisper, and Alys could sense her mad passion for which she spoke. “I came to Warin Mallory as a girl, in good faith.”
Bevan snorted.
“Shut your foolish mouth! John Hart was married, and he used me, just as I used him. I was determined to make a prosperous life at Gillwick, give Warin the children he desired, increase the worth of his farm.Hecuckoldedmewith acommoner!It was simply my misfortune that I got with child by the wrong man.”
“Why, thank you, Mother.”
“But now,” Judith Angwedd continued, in a somewhat placating tone, “John Hart is widowed, with no heirs to leave his fortune to. You have two feasts spread before you now, Bevan—we both do! Once Gillwick and Hart Manor are joined together under us, we will have a veritable empire! Think of the power that will wield!”
Alys was aghast. Lord John Hart’s possessions were more than Gillwick’s, for certain, but it was not of such import as to be considered the basis of an empire. The woman was obviously delusional, and truly mad with greed.
“I fucking hate cows,” Bevan grumbled.
“That’s simply too bad. Now, go and do as I’ve asked. If Piers leaves the chamber, follow him. If he comes within beckoning distance of John Hart or this floor—”
“I know—kill him,” Bevan said wearily.
Alys’s throat threatened to close once more. Piers was here. Not only in London, but in a chamber not far fromher, right at this very moment. He was here, and possibly in greater danger than Alys herself.
“What of her?” Bevan pressed, sounding unenthusiastic about his mother’s plans. “She may try to free herself once we are both gone.”
“And then she’d do what? Beat through the doors with her skull? The bonds would need be cut to be removed, which I don’t plan on doing regardless of the outcome at court. I shall dine with John Hart this night. And shortly after the morrow’s audience, we shall be rid of bastard Piers and his pagan princess bride. Sybilla Foxe shall have her right comeuppance as well, and that thought does please me greatly.”
Alys waited until she was absolutely certain that both mother and son had departed before trying to sit upright. Her spine creaked, and as she pushed with both feet and slid up the side of the wardrobe it felt as if all the bones in her shoulder and back were laid bare to the wood.
Layla’s basket tumbled from her shoulder to her midsection and arrived upside down on her thighs. The exertion had caused Alys to break into a sweat, and she sat for several moments, slowing her breathing once more. Bevan had bound her hopelessly. There was no chance of her working her hands free—she couldn’t so much as feel them at this point. And without her hands, there was even less chance of her freeing her legs, which were bound to her knees so tightly that they could barely bend. But her feet tingled now that her legs were stretched out along the floor of the wardrobe, and that little thing heartened her.
On her lap, Layla shifted within the basket and Alys felt it move. Layla cooed sadly, and Alys wanted to comfort her pet, but the best she could manage was a strangled caw, which nearly choked her. The basket on her legs began to rock, and from within, Layla screeched in agitation. Therewas a terrible flurry of sound, crackling and splitting of the basket, and Alys hoped desperately that the monkey wouldn’t hurt herself. In a moment, the basket tumbled down toward her feet, and then four little appendages pummeled back up Alys’s body.
Layla was free. Alys could feel the little animal’s huffs of breath on her cheek as Layla inspected the gag in her mouth. The monkey forced dainty fingers between the rope and Alys’s skin and yanked, tugged, jerked back and forth wildly. Alys squeezed her eyes shut at the dizzying shaking but made no sound that Layla might mistake for disapproval. Layla climbed over Alys’s head, worried at the knot at the base of her skull, relieved her of several pieces of hair, bringing sharp tears to Alys’s eyes.
Then the monkey was back at her shoulder, and this time, Alys felt Layla’s mouth, and the scrape of little teeth against her skin. She kept her eyes shut and held very, very still, barely daring to breathe as thechick-chicksounds and humid breaths brought out a blanket of gooseflesh over her body. She felt the gag give infinitesimally, and had to steel herself against pushing at it with her tongue. It gave again, jerking once sideways in her mouth. In the next instant, Alys realized the rope was now slack between her teeth. She shook her head with a cry, spitting to eject the gag from her mouth.
“Good girl, Layla,” Alys praised. “Good girl!”
The monkey was now perched on her knees, as if waiting for Alys to take over the task of freeing them both. Alys sat for a moment in thought. But only for one moment. She began to scoot and turn her bottom, until she was wedged perpendicular to the floor of the wardrobe, her feet against the deep lip below the doors. Then she pushed with all her strength, sliding her back up the rear wall. For the first time in her life, Alys blessed herlack of height. When she finally stood, swaying in the black on legs effectively turned into one tapered post, her head only whispered against the shelf above.
She turned sideways, leaned into the wall, and then threw her left shoulder into the doors. Her back and chest muscles screamed, but the doors did not so much as bulge. She leaned against the wall again, pushed into it, gathered herself, and threw herself again. The doors stood firm, but an unexpected vertigo overtook Alys as the blackness inside the wardrobe seemed to lean toward the floor.
Alys gasped and flung her weight toward the back once more. If she toppled the large piece of furniture on its face, she would never get out.
“Oh God, help me,” she breathed. “Come on!” She flung sweaty tendrils of hair from her forehead and cheeks with a frustrated toss of her head. She tried to think of something—anything—else she could do.
Then she heard the distinctchudof the chamber door beyond the wardrobe. The sound of feet approaching.
It could be Bevan. It could be Judith Angwedd. It could be a common thief, come to rob the apartment, or it could be no one save a simple chamber maid. Alys couldn’t risk calling out. If it was one of her captors returned, they might punish her, hurt her—
Kill her.
