Page 97 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Tell me.”

“Very well. The wench Geoffrey de Lanceau has taken to his bed is your daughter, Elizabeth.”

Arthur’s breath exploded from his lips. The baron looked about to topple over, but Aldwin reached out and steadied him. The squire looked shocked.

“Why do you test me with falsehoods?” Arthur snarled. Spittle flew from his mouth with the force of his words.

With vexing calm, Veronique sipped her wine. “’Tis not a falsehood.”

“Liar! Lady Elizabeth would never lie with de Lanceau,” Aldwin shouted, his reddened face taut with indignation. “She is a woman of virtue and beauty.”

Veronique’s angry gaze fixed upon the squire. “You believe he gave her a choice?”

“God’s blood!” moaned Sedgewick. “My dear betrothed, suffering such brutality.” He gulped wine, half of it running down his chin and onto his mail and spattering on the ground.

“I witnessed his cruelty with my own eyes,” Veronique said. “She wept and screamed and begged him for mercy. He showed her none.”

Aldwin gripped the hilt of his sword with such violence, his knuckles snapped. “I will kill him!”

Veronique rose from the chair, her bliaut rustling. She glided toward Arthur, and he tensed. The wench was not finished with what she had come to say. She halted a hand’s span away, her sweet fragrance cloying in the confines of the tent.

“I bring you this terrible news,” she said, looking up into his face, “because I know Geoffrey de Lanceau. I know how he thinks and what he intends for Wode. I can get you past Branton Keep’s gates.”

Arthur scowled. Why would she offer to help him? She owed him no loyalty. Indeed, he saw not the slightest hint of integrity in her gaze. “You can get my men inside the bailey?”

She nodded. “’Twill be far quicker than a melee. By attacking de Lanceau without warning—with his hose down, if you pardon the crude phrase—your victory is guaranteed.”

“I have already issued my challenge,” muttered Arthur. “’Twould be dishonorable not to fulfill the terms of that arrangement.”

Her laughter mocked him. “Qualms, milord? You treat de Lanceau with honor when he showed you none? After he deceived you and raped your daughter?”

Rage surged inside Arthur like a battle cry. “You are so willing to betray him?”

“For the right cause.”

“A price, you mean.”

She smiled.

Arthur’s mouth curled in disgust. Devious wench. Still, her plan held merit, providing he could ensure she did not deceive him as well.

He motioned to Aldwin. Shaking his head, the squire stormed out of the tent and returned with a small wooden chest. He sprung the lock and raised the lid, revealing hundreds of silver coins bearing the stamped, curly-haired visage of Henry II.

Veronique’s eyes gleamed.

“Is it enough?” Arthur asked. With immense effort, he resisted the urge to shake the greedy grin from her lips.

“Aye,” she murmured. “I believe ’tis.”

CHAPTER 18

“Your move, milady.”

Elizabeth looked down at the beautiful inlaid leather chessboard Dominic had loaned her earlier that evening. She had not played the game in months and felt much out of practice. Despite Mildred’s claim to possess an old and addled brain, she would win this one for certain.

Sighing, Elizabeth propped her elbow on the trestle table, rested her cheek on her palm, and studied the carved chess pieces. Geoffrey lounged at the lord’s table though the meal had ended some time ago. She sensed his gaze wandering over her. Again. He watched her like a ravenous hawk.

“Good man.” He gestured to the coppery-haired musician who sat near the hearth, playing a lute. “Play something merry.”