Page 120 of Bold Angel
Nay, he knew that there was not. His rage had been too great, the pain too strong. “Tell me your tale, then I would see your proof. If there is none, our conversation is ended.” Yet his insides fairly quaked with the hope the old woman had unleashed. He found himself praying she would not turn to leave.
She did not disappoint him. Instead she beganher story, starting with the odd pallor of Caryn’s skin that she had noticed that night on the stairs. Because of her worry, she had returned to the hall and there discovered the goblet, which still smelled of traces of the drug. She had gone from the hall to the medicinal, had found that Hassan’s jar of the dried narcotic had been disturbed, seen bits of the powdery substance still left in the bottom of the mortar. Though she hoped it meant naught, she had secretly questioned the servants.
When Ral remained unconvinced, Marta paused and shuffled to the door. She pulled it open and one of the serving women walked in, her eyes darting nervously in his direction.
“Do not be afraid,” Marta said. “You must tell Lord Ral what you saw that night as you passed by the medicinal.”
Her name was Elda, he remembered, a young girl not much older than Caryn.
“’Twas Geoffrey, milord. I wondered what he might be doing in there so late, but ’twas not my concern and so I did not ask.”
“What did he in there?” Marta asked.
“He ground something in the mortar. He was in a hurry, to be sure, for he left a few moments later.”
“How would Geoffrey know of such a potion?” Ral asked, but the beating of his heart had grown stronger, the hope expanding, growing into something that swelled and urged the heaviness to lift from his chest.
“You forget he spent a good deal of time in there. Lady Caryn used a tiny bit of the drug to ease his pain. Make no mistake, my lord. Geoffrey de Clare knew exactly what he was about.”
“There is still the chance that you are wrong. I know the feelings you carry for your mistress. It is possible you only wish—”
“Think you back to that night, my lord. Do you not remember how it was that your lady wife slept? Noteven did she waken to wish you godspeed on your journey. She was much overwrought when she awoke to discover you had gone.”
He recalled carrying her up to their room. Even his heavy movements could not rouse her. She slept as if she had been… drugged.
His hands clenched into fists atop the table. “If this happened as you say, why did she not try to explain? Why did she say naught in her defense?”
“Your Caryn believes herself guilty. Your men are dead and the fault is her own. You bestowed a trust in her and she failed you. She will punish herself for it all the days of her life.”
“Sweet Christ, I cannot believe this.” But suddenly he did. Every sweet, life-breathing word of it. He wanted to shout from the rooftops, he wanted to pound his fists and grind his teeth for not being able to see it before.
Something is wrong,Odo had said, but in his pain, in his anguish he could not see.
“I must go to her.”
“’Tis too late to begin such a journey. ’Tis dark outside with only a sliver of moon to guide you.”
He smiled, joy rushing through him, his blood pumping, his spirit coming alive. “’Tis more light than has lit my way in weeks.” Long strides carried him toward the door. He shouted for Odo, roused half the servants, and began to call out instructions.
Behind him, Marta smiled softly and brushed a tear from her cheek.
***
Ral took ten men and set off for the Convent of the Holy Cross. He rode hard that night, slept only a few hours, then set off again before dawn. As tired as he was, he felt alive as he hadn’t in days, as he had feared he never would again.
His purpose was set, yet as he drew near, his unease began to grow. What would he say to her? What wouldshe say to him? In a different way he was just as guilty of betrayal as Caryn believed herself to be. If he’d had more faith in her, if he had but listened to his instincts instead of his anger, he would have discovered the truth.
Even Odo had been able to see it. But not the man who was her husband. Not the man who was entrusted with her care.
His stomach twisted to think of the brutal way he had struck her. In his anguish he had lashed out, though the pain she had suffered had ripped through him as viciously as it had her. He wondered if she would forgive him. Mostly he wondered if she was happy there in the convent. She had wanted to be free of him, to live a life unfettered by duty and responsibility.
He worried if, after all that had happened, his Caryn would come home.
***
“Lord Raolfe!” The abbess stepped back to allow him in. “I am sorry… we received no word of your arrival.”
He barely paused to greet her. “I have come to see my wife. Where is she?”
