Page 40 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Thirty-One

It seemed like hours later before the sound of footfalls in the passageway ceased. Finally, Alys deemed it safe to throw a wrap about her shoulders, don her belt with the knife attached to it, and tiptoe down the stairs to the kitchen. Her single candle did little to dispel her fears—traitors lurked in every corner; each moving shadow was Kirlham waiting to jump out on her. Nonetheless, she told herself, she had come this far. It was too late to turn back now, and the darkness of the night might yet prove to be as much a friend as an enemy.

As she passed by the pantry, she picked up a manchet roll and took a bite of it to support her story that she’d come down in search of food. Then she crept down the cellar steps.

“Are you there, fellow?”

No response. She tried again, a little louder. “I hope the ale was not bad. It had been somewhat shaken, as I did say. Is there aught else you would have?”

Still not a sound met her ears. Gingerly, prepared for flight at any moment, she continued down the steps, knife at the ready, though she prayed she’d not have to use it. When she reached the main room of the undercroft, her light revealed the massive guard, slumped awkwardly on a stool.

Her plan had worked! Proud of her quick thinking, she made a quick circuit of the wine cellars, but there was no sign of Kit. She stood in the middle of the room, her light reflecting dully off the slimy brick floor. Her heart, just now so full of excitement and bravado, felt heavy in her breast. Surely, she could not be wrong? The wall-eyed man must be down here for a reason.

Then she noticed something. One of the racks of shelving had been moved aside from the wall, revealing an unfamiliar dark shape beyond. She seized up the guard’s lantern and held it aloft, revealing a stout wooden door she had never seen before. Could this be the entrance to the tunnel Kit had spoken of? She battled with the latch but, to her despair, the door failed to open.

If there was a key, and surely there must be, who had it? If it was with Kirlham, or Avery, or even Kate, there was naught she could do. Not even her newfound bravery would take her into the chambers of Kit’s enemies while they lay at their rest. But she might just find the courage to search the sleeping guard.

Steeling her nerves, she set the lantern down where it wouldn’t shine into his eyes, and knelt by the man’s slumbering form. This close, she could see the rise and fall of his breathing, and smell the acrid scent of her potion on his breath. Well, at least she hadn’t murdered him, although she couldn’t help wonder if it wouldn’t have been more prudent to do so, for when he awoke, her guilt would soon be discovered. How ruthless she had become in so short a space of time.

The key was attached to the guard’s belt. Knowing speed was of the essence, she hacked at its tie with her knife until it came free. She was at the door within seconds, unlocking it and almost falling into the pitch-black room beyond.

“Kit—are you here?”

“Hmmph?” came a muffled voice from within.

She rushed out again to fetch the lantern. When she came back and held it aloft, her jaw dropped in amazement.

The light bounced off the walls of a room she had never known existed. All around the sides were shelving and racks on which a veritable arsenal of weaponry was stacked. The flood had clearly wrought some violence here, for there was a tide mark along the walls, and the kegs looked stained. But everything was ordered, with some items raised on pallets, and a pile of cloths lay in the middle of the floor, presumably having been used for cleaning.

She stared open-mouthed—she’d understood that Kirlham and Kate were traitors, but hadn’t quite envisaged the full extent of their treachery. Why, this arsenal could destroy the lives of hundreds. Did any cause, religious, political or otherwise, warrant such carnage?

But where was Kit? Lifting the light high, she spotted something moving in a corner. It was a man, cruelly bound both hand and foot, lying on the damp floor of the inner chamber. She threw herself down, fingers trembling as she removed the gag. This was followed by a colorful series of curses from his bruised mouth. God be praised—he was alive! But his sleeve was black with blood, and there were injuries to his face and fists, too—evidently, he had not been taken without a fight.

“Alys, begone from here. You endanger yourself.”

Not after all she’d risked already. Shaking her head, she wrestled with his bonds, employing the knife where she could safely do so.

“Nay, Alys. They will kill you, too. Get away from here—there is no time to lose!”

“I’m not going without you. Walsingham will be here soon. Rupert has gone to fetch him.”

He gaped at her. “Rupert? What could you know of Rupert?”

“Explanation can wait.” The last severed piece of rope fell to the floor. “Can you walk?”

“There’ll be a guard.”

She smiled. “I’ve dealt with him.” She’d collect the costrel on the way out, so no one would know the guard had been drugged.

“How?”

“You’ll see. Come, don’t waste your breath in talking. I must tend to your injuries.”

“Ah, Alys, my dear, sweet angel.” Kit staggered to his feet, wincing as they took his weight. “I don’t deserve this sacrifice you make.”

“I intend to make no sacrifice. I’ll see us both free of this, and the perpetrators punished.”

“You’re putting on a brave face for me, I know.” He accepted her help, leaning on her shoulder. “But there is more danger here than you know. Go back to bed, and pretend you have never been here. I’ll make my way out in a moment.”