Page 40 of Lord of the Manor

Cecily! She’d been working on his behalf. Good—it meant she cared enough to make the effort. He smiled.

“In good spirits, I see, despite your injuries. We will bring a counter-charge of assault, methinks. I have already spoken to the local magistrate to see if the constable can be held to account, but it seems that only coin will set the wheels of the law running smoothly hereabouts. Right glad am I that I live in a town and not the countryside. It feels positively feudal.”

“Then what are we to do?”

“I shall raise coin on your behalf and stand surety for your release. It will absorb the rents I collected at Christmas, however, which is a shame.”

“Nay—don’t waste those on setting me free. We need that money to pay Simpkin—and Lettice when she returns—and to buy winter feed for the animals. It was my folly that put me in this cage, and I’ll have neither beast nor man suffer for it. Take this, sell it, or offer it in lieu of coin, and do what you can. I can’t do anything in my own cause until I get out of this place.”

Allan pushed Hannah’s bejeweled miniature portrait between the bars. If Swaffham noticed a pause before Allan let go of the object, he gave no sign of it.

“This will certainly oil the machinery of the law and borrow you the freedom you need to clear your name. Have no fear—I’m your man, steady and true. And if you’re unable to pay my wages for a month or so, I shall not complain. I’m no pauper, having other accounting work to do besides that of the commandery. And it would gall me to see that conniving Kennett Clark triumph over us after all our endeavors.”

“It does dent one’s faith to see such villains prosper. Were he not my wife’s only surviving relative, I would have cut off the acquaintance long since.”

“Ah, speaking of acquaintance—your serving wench, Cecily, gave me a basket for you. But I’ll have to fetch the constable to open the door, so I can give it to you.”

“Stay. How did you know I was here?”

“Cecily rode over to tell me, on that monstrous stallion of yours. She is naught if not courageous, that girl. You have a propensity for winning the loyalty of your servants. I can’t imagine my maid bestirring herself much on my account.”

Cecily had ridden Baldur to find Swaffham? After he’d told her to lie low, avoid Kennett and keep herself safe? Would she never hearken to his advice? He rolled his eyes. The Hospitallers must have had their work cut out for them when they tried to raise her.

Despite the fact that they, too, had beguiled him, he couldn’t hate them for it. Even though they were of the old faith, every single one of them had more grace, more honor in his little finger than Kennett Clark had in his entire body.

Swaffham bade Allan adieu for the time being, and he moved back to prop himself against the wall again, considering it both safer and cleaner than the floor. His hand automatically reached for the comfort of Hannah’s miniature portrait.

Of course, it was no longer there—he’d traded it for his freedom. What was he going to use for comfort now? Was he truly ready to replace Hannah? He pressed his lips together. Was there any hope of future happiness with a closet Catholic who had deceived and used him for her own ends? And even if he and Cecily resolved their differences, would fortune favor them? Because fortune, as he’d learned to his cost, was a fickle mistress.

“Allan!”

He returned to the door in an instant. “Cecily? What are you doing here? I thought you had sent Master Swaffham as your messenger.”

“Aye, but he’s gone into the constable’s cottage to negotiate. I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“Why not wait until I am released? It may not be long now. And why give Swaffham your basket if you always meant to come yourself?”

“You are right to question me. I have done little but evade your questions, and tell you falsehoods, so why should you trust me? Especially when I tell you what I wanted to say to you in private. I fear it will make you trust me less and hate me even more.”

An invisible blow made the muscles in his stomach clench. What else had she kept from him? He didn’t know how much more anguish his battered heart could take. Had she a lover already—a husband, even? Did she actually know who she really was, and was there something in her lineage that meant she could never be with him?

“Curse you, Cecily Neville. Just as I’ve made up my mind that it’s safe to care for you, you trample upon my trust again. What secret have you kept from me this time? Nay, look not so sorrowful—I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

Tears glistened on the ends of her lashes, and he could see she was twisting her hands together. Whatever she had to say must be weighty indeed to affect her thus. He prepared himself for the fall of the ax.

“Allan—I come to bring you hope. Hope for all of us. There may be something concealed at the commandery, something the king’s commissioners never found when they valued the site.”

She glanced around her, then lowered her voice. “The Templar knights of two hundred years ago concealed a treasure. The Knights Hospitaller never found it and soon gave up looking, believing the story a myth, as so many of the tales told about the Templar order have surely been. But Benedict thinks he knows where the cache might be. We’re looking for it now, and when—or if—we find it, we’ll hide it well. Not at the commandery, as we cannot afford for Master Clark to find it.”

Allan’s throat tightened. Was this what the brothers had been up to, under the pretense of helping him demolish the buildings to sell the stone? And when they found their treasure, had they planned to escape the country, leaving him with nothing? It was a vicious blow, indeed.

“And now, I curse myself. I am a fool. A lovelorn, blind fool.” He had been manipulated, by one party or another, ever since arriving at the Temple Roding Commandery. His fists clenched against his side.

“Nay, Allan. You have it all awry. We can use the coin to help you. Or the plate, or whatever it might be that we find. That’s why the men are now demolishing the chapel, even though nobody wanted to. So, you see, you shall have your stone, and the Templar’s hoard, too, for none of us wants to see it fall into Master Clark’s hands.”

So much hope built on a dream. He had thought Cecily more level-headed than that.

“Will you never heed me? I told you to lie low and avoid attracting Kennett’s attention, but what do you do? Borrow my horse and charge about the countryside, putting yourself and doubtless the animal, too, at risk. I shall save my own neck—I have already put a plan into action.”