“So you”—Rolfe turned to Louis—“did not inspect to see if the prisoner was there either?”
“No, my lord,” Louis said, standing straight and tall. “I too thought he was asleep. But—”
“What?”
“He could not have escaped during my watch. I did not close an eye, nor did I take one step from my post. This I swear, and if I speak false, let God smite me as I stand.”
Rolfe believed him, and he turned to Jean, who was crimson now. “What have you to say?”
“’Twas me,” he croaked. “I was deathly ill, my lord. All of a sudden I had a severe cramping. I could not hold my bowels.”
Rolfe stared. “You deserted your post.”
“I was sick, so sick I could not control myself.”
Rolfe’s face was hard and rigid, but he contained his wrath well. Only his eyes showed his emotions. They blazed. “At what time were you sick?”
“Just after I took my dinner, my lord, during your wedding feast.”
“Strip him of his sword,” Rolfe said to Guy. He then looked at Jean. “You are relieved of duty until I deem it otherwise.”
Guy turned to Rolfe. “Do you think…?”
“I am almost sure of it—he was poisoned. Have there been any other reports of this strange illness?”
“No.”
Jean jerked upright. “My lord?”
“What?”
“She brought it to me.”
Rolfe thought the hall had become strangely still. “Who?” And he knew.
“The witch—my lady’s sister—Ceidre.”
For a moment Rolfe didn’t breathe, didn’t move. Then his heart picked up its beat. His face was devoid of expression, of emotion. “And you were not suspicious—after she poisoned Guy at Kesop?”
“Aye, I was. But she took a bite of everything, my Lord, to prove ’twasn’t poisoned. Yet now I think they were small morsels, my lord, very small.”
Rolfe’s nostrils flared. In his mind was hard, hard anger. She understood well what she had done, and the consequences, but she had done it anyway.
Treason.
And in his body there was sickness, deep, reaching from his heart straight into his soul.
“I knew it,” Alice cried from behind them. “She asked me the other night, my lord, to help her plan Morcar’s escape. Of course, I told her she was a fool.”
Rolfe had been about to tell Alice to be quiet, but now he was all ears. “And you did not inform me?”
“You were sleeping from the effects of the wine, my lord,” Alice said with the faintest of smirks. Her eyes glowed. “I commanded Guy to put her in the dungeons for treason, yet he would not!”
Rolfe looked at Guy.
Guy shifted. “The lady Alice thought she had poisoned you, my lord, and thus accused her sister of treason. I determined you were in your cups, so did not lock up the wench. If I have behaved wrongly, I will gladly accept just punishment.”
“You did rightly.” Rolfe held up a hand, taking a breath, mouth tight. “There is no need to hunt for Morcar—the Saxon is long gone.”
