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As for Matilda, she had obviously returned to bed and fallen asleep. He smiled to himself; he had kept her awake for many hours, and she lacked his beastly stamina.
Sara walked into the hall with Marcia at her side. The maid was carrying a gown.
“Don’t fret,” Sara said. “I shall repair the small tear. It will be done by evening.”
Sara curtsied to Gervais. “Good morrow, my lord. Did my lady sleep well?”
Gervais scratched the whiskers on his chin. “If not in my bed, then I assume she is slumbering in hers.”
The colour left Sara’s face. Marcia touched her sleeve. “What is it?” Marcia asked.
“But, my lord, she is not in her bed. I fell asleep in the kitchens, as did many of us who serve and wanted more of the musicians’ time. She remained with you, did she not?” Her lower lip trembled.
Gervais stiffened so abruptly, his spine cracked. “No,” he growled. “She left me at dawn.”
He hurried past the two women to Matilda’s chamber. Sure enough, her bed was cold and empty. He raced to his own private rooms, and there was no trace of her. Only a heap of clothes on the floor.
He bellowed for Lionel, for Jacob. Soon the whole castle was roused and looking for her. The remaining guests assisted in the search, and the reports that came back were all the same. Nobody had seen Matilda that morning.
“My lord,” a voice rose from the small gathering in the great hall, where Gervais paced up and down, his anguish clear for everyone to see. “Lord Gervais.”
The youth stepped forward. “I am Philip, squire to Sir Ricard, who stands by you.”
Sir Ricard waved his man forward. “What is it, boy?”
Gervais ceased roving. Sir Ricard was a reliable man who was known throughout the region. A widowed old knight and a friend of the earl.
Philip cleared his throat and shuffled forward. “I saw somebody last night who I believe I recognised, but I thought it foolish to say anything—”
“Say what?” Gervais said impatiently, hands on hips.
“Because it would not be appropriate for me to speak up.”
“You’re not making sense, boy.”
“I sat with the other squires and the young sons of the burghers over there,” Philip pointed to the back of the hall.
Gervais scowled. “The rowdy table.”
The boy blushed. “We made merry and drank. But one of our number was quieter and I thought, at first, that I did not know him. He stared most earnestly at your lady all night. And it was afterwards, when you called for help in finding her, that I realised I did see in him a reminder of another.”
“Who?” What guest had sneaked in uninvited? It was possible. Gervais had opened his doors wide last night, and only the peasants were barred.
Philip glanced at Sir Ricard. “I thought... I’ve only met him once at the earl’s castle. Taller than I. Gawky framed, and with lighter hair and no beard, he might resemble a knight. He walked with a stick, though—”
The description needed no further details. “Sir Geoffrey,” Gervais snarled. “You’re telling me Sir Geoffrey Pole was here, in my castle, under my nose?” He leaned his knuckles on a table and bowed his head. “Leave me.”
After a few minutes, only Sir Ricard with his loyal squire, two other knights, and Lionel remained. They waited, knowing that Gervais was calming his ferocious anger, and that he would soon command them to serve him.
“He’s taken her.” It had to be true, because the alternative was that she had deceived him and gone voluntarily with Geoffrey. He could not believe she would, not after last night, when he coaxed her to so many climaxes and she had gifted him such joy. She whispered, “I love you, Gervais,” in his ear, and he had the courage to admit likewise that he loved her ‘deeply.’
“When was he last seen?” he asked Philip.
“At first breakfast, he snatched a loaf off the table, and a flask of mead. I thought it greedy, but if he—”
“Needed food for a long journey, he needed it for two people.” Gervais thumped the table. “Lionel, saddle my horse, I shall hunt them down, do you understand?”
The pale Lionel nodded and ran to do his master’s bidding.
