ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

From the north tower, Lucius Hamilton watched the departure of his uncle through narrowed eyes. The clamorous roar of their horses' hooves had barely died when a harsh voice from behind him demanded his attention.

"Shall we act now?" Lydia's features were a tautened mask.

"Such an eager doer of evil," Lucius said as a reptilian smile crossed his face. "Do you not think 'twould be rather impetuous of us to act so soon?"

"I say we take her now." Lydia turned away from her son and plucked at the palms of her hands. "I have waited long for this."

The young man leaned back against a buttress. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Is it politics or revenge that guides my good mother?" he said silkily.

Lydia stiffened. "I have endured her unholy power over this household long enough," she said evenly. "I want the chit dead."

"As you wanted your father dead?"

Lydia shot him a glance. Her mouth twitched, and her gray-green eyes narrowed. "This time there will be no question," she spat. "I have no loyalties where that one is concerned."

Flanked by holy statuary and with tall candles burning behind her, she stood before the altar in the dim chapel. Lucius almost laughed aloud at the ironic picture she made. She was a hats-filled gorgon amid the gentle images of her religion.

Lucius suppressed his amusement. "To say it precisely, Mother, 'tis not my intention to kill her."

"You will do as I say."

"No, Mother, I will not." Lucius shrugged away from the wail. "Even your terrible malice must be tempered by the knowledge that she can be of use to both of us. Dead, she is simply dead, but alive, she may be an excellent bargaining tool should we, in truth, need to bargain. Even you must perceive that we cannot hide our activities from Dominic forever. With the Spanish looming at our doorstep, security will be heightened on all levels. If the contents of the Ravenshead keep were discovered even now, we would find ourselves dancing from the nearest gibbet. Your brother and my uncle would not bother with the formality of a court trial. As my own experience will tell you, he metes out his own justice. And it is a cruel justice, Mother."

Lucius advanced on his mother. Even her undainty size was dwarfed by her son.

"If our 'rebellious' activities should be discovered, we can resurrect both Dominic's father and the sweet Maurette and use them as bargaining tools."

"'Sweet Maurette,'', Lydia repeated, her voice low and edged with steel.

Lucius smiled and nodded lazily. "Oh, yes," he said softly, "That is another consideration."

He moved past his mother and poured himself a goblet of sacramental wine and lifted it in an amiable toast.

"'Tis not entirely for the cause of our martyred Scottish queen that I spare the child." He drank deeply.

Lydia watched him. Her fists were clenched and her temples were corded with coursing hatred. "You have never cared for the true cause, Lucius Hamilton. Your only 'cause' has been yourself."

Lucius laughed openly now. "And you, Mother," he said derisively. What shall we say of a woman who, while outwardly practicing the gentlest of religions, murders cold-bloodedly a poor innocent kitchen wench who had the bad fortune to discover a keep full of mutineers and rioters? What shall we say of a woman who enslaves her own father and accuses him of the terrible crime of suicide? And what shall we say of a woman who even now plans the murder of the only woman her brother has ever loved? And all this in the name of a G-d she claims to love beyond all else." Lucius's face was murderously dark. "Do not dare accuse me of hypocrisy, woman. If I am a hypocrite, I have learned my lessons at my mother's knee."

Lydia backed away from him down the aisle of the small chapel. "I will agree," she said evenly. "But, unlike my father, the 'sweet Maurette' must be aware at all times of who has taken her and exactly what her position is. She must know that her beloved Dominic mourns her 'suicide.' Is that agreed?"

Lucius shrugged a broad shoulder. "What care I?" he said. He regarded his mother levelly. "My mother is a vicious one. 'Tis no wonder that I have grown to be such a bad boy," he said in a mocking tone and chuckled low in his throat. Then his tone became menacing, and his bronzed face tautened. "Out from my sight," he snarled.

His voice sliced through Lydia like a cold blade, and she turned and quickly left the small chamber. Lucius drained his goblet, and wiping his firm lips with the back of his lean hand, he smiled a narrow, cunning, triumphant smile.

"Gird your loins, Uncle," he said, the derisive sneer contorting his handsome face. "My battle is won."

The frenzy of activity that had accompanied Sir Francis's arrival and his stay at Ravenshead had died almost immediately at his and Dominic's departure. The Raven was to sail south to the harbors of northern France. Dominic would take an overland route into Italy to find and bring back to English shores the little Italian, Frederigo Giambelli and would not return until at least July. His departure began, for the residents of Ravenshead a long, lazy time of relaxation and for Maurette, at least-loneliness. With her babe snuggled safely inside her, she spent many hours in her chamber with Ben.

Together Ben and Maurette would while away quiet afternoons, playing at backgammon and cards, and indulging in their favorite pastime. Ben was rarely without a dog-eared tome, and Maurette had encouraged Kitty to join them for she had become a prolific reader. The three sat often in companionable silence, each immersed in his or her favorite book.

One afternoon, Maurette was astonished to find Lydia knocking on her door, seeking admittance to the quiet company. The woman stepped almost shyly into the chamber, and Maurette invited her to sit with them. The big woman seemed grateful for the company, and it was not long before she was joining them frequently in Maurette's chamber. Ben was not particularly pleased with these visits for Lydia was almost unrelentingly down-hearted. He glanced up from his book to listen to the conversation that was ensuing one afternoon. Pushing his spectacles down on his narrow nose, he regarded Lydia with a mixture of mistrust and annoyance.

"There is no guarantee that he will even return," she was saying with an almost idle sadness. "He is traveling in ungentle environs, dear Maurette." As Ben watched in disgust, Lydia wiped at an errant tear. She continued her gloomy discourse. "These are troubled times, and I fear for him. Anything could happen, and 'twould be months before we even knew of it." Ben noted the deep well of sadness in Maurette's bright eyes.

"Do you not think you exaggerate, Lydia?" he said in exasperation. "You come here daily and prophesy disaster where none exists."

"I am sorry, Ben," Lydia responded mournfully. "'Tis that I seek Maurette's company for solace. And yours too," she said with a smile of despair. "I hope my presence does not offend you."

Maurette moved instantly to Lydia's side. "Of course it does not, Lydia. We are happy that; you come here for comfort. 'Tis only," Maurette added in a small voice, .... well, I wish you would not talk of such melancholy possibilities. Dominic has assured me that no harm will come to him He has his own men at his side, and Sir Francis has sent an armed legion to aid them if trouble should arise. He shall be well protected."

Lydia looked fondly into Maurette's earnest face. "I wish I had your courage, dear child. If only I were as strong as you and had your faith." She wiped at another tear and pushed back a tendril of hair.

"But you have your own faith, Lydia," Maurette said gently "Pray to your G-d to bring our Dominic safely home."

Lydia bowed her head. "I do," she said in a childlike voice. "But I am still afraid."

Ben set down his book on the table before him with a disgruntled thump. He stood and gathered his shawl around his shoulders, glaring down at Lydia.

"We are all concerned for your brother's safety, Lydia. We do not need this exposition of our darkest fears each day to remind us that Dominic faces dangers. I would suggest that you go and pray, or something, and leave us in peace."

Maurette looked up in astonishment. "0h, Ben," she said softly, "how can you be so cold? Lydia has come to us for help, and you speak to her thus." She regarded Lydia kindly. "Forgive Ben," she said gently, "'Tis his dripping nose that causes him to grumble so." She a soft smile. "We all know that you are much with dark thoughts, Lydia. We, too, are frightened. perhaps, Ben is right in one thing. Perhaps your prayer would soften G-d's heart toward this journey that our beloved Dominic has embarked upon. Pray that He looks down with favor upon your brother's mission. Pray that gentle weather and kind companions follow him in his: labors."

"I shall do that, dear, kind Maurette," said Lydia gratefully. She rose heavily and moved to leave the chamber. She turned before exiting and eyed Ben with narrowed gaze. "I often become disconsolate at times like these, when there are no men about for protection. I shall not again trouble you with these awful musings."

Ben rolled his eyes toward his own, uncertain deity as Lydia left the room. "Forgive me, Maurette, the woman unravels me." He patted his reddened nose with a linen cloth. "Perhaps you are correct in that 'tis my dripping nose that sets me to behaving boorishly."

Maurette shook her head with resignation. "You must needs ply a bit of patience, Ben," she said kindly. "Perhaps Lydia is awash with fears."

Ben eyed the doorway through with Lydia had just passed. "'Twould be a kindness on her part if she were less the doting sister," he said flatly. Then he faced toward Maurette. Her eyes had softened with unshed tears. "Maurette," he stated gently, "Dominic will come back to us."

"Of course he will," Maurette murmured remotely.

"He will," Kitty returned staunchly. Maurette's two friends eyed her worriedly, then looked toward each other. They agreed silently that either one or both of them could happily have drawn and quartered the grim-spirited Lydia Hamilton.

Maurette heard the low snap of the fire and opened her Eyes. The rosy shadows of the night had turned to cool blues and grays in the predawn mist that lighted her chamber. She had not slept well and felt a tingling weariness overcome her. Images of Dominic had floated behind her closed eyelids and had kept her wakeful and restless throughout the long night. She shivered beneath her bed covers and attempted once again to fall asleep. Phantoms became the fabric of her sleep. Wafting forms shadowed her twilight dreams. The whisper of her chamber door roused her only slightly, and she nestled deeper into a consuming, timeless, soundless slumber.

A bronzed figure loomed before her, at the end of her bed. The glinting whiteness of strong teeth bared in a wide grin roused her, and she languidly propped herself up, shedding her covers to move toward the tall form. "Oh, Dominic." Her whispered breath was a soft, contented sigh as she melted into the spectral tenderness of his embrace cradling her sleep-softened body in his strong arms. Maurette felt the illusory vapors of languorous passion on her throat as her head fell back. "Never leave me again," she murmured as the phantom urgency of his lips roused her from somnolence. She entwined her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be overwhelmed by his consuming hunger. He laid her back upon the thick folds of the bed, and she felt the hardness of his muscled length beside her. Half in dreams she luxuriated in the silken pleasure of his hands upon her flesh. A half-born thought niggled at her as his lips moved to her bared shoulder. Her eyes opened, and she gazed sleepily down upon his abundant curls.

"Dominic?" she whispered. "Is it you?" The big head came up, and Maurette gasped in horror as she gazed into passion-silvered sea green eyes.

"Lucius!" she cried, as his lips came down to silence her savagely. She gasped and moaned, writhing beneath his terrible strength. "Please," she cried in a breathless voice as he lifted his lips from hers at last.

"Do not cry out, Maurette," he rasped.

"You cannot do this, Lucius," she whispered desperately. "Dominic will kill you."

Lucius allowed a small smile to cross his lips. "'Twould be well worth the gamble, sweet Maurette," he said huskily. His head came down, and his ravaging lips took hers once more in a brutal kiss. She pushed at his ravening power, but he held her to him. His tongue breached her mouth, and she moaned in an agony of helpless torment. She twisted away from his devouring lust but he took her face in his big hands and, hovering just above her, he growled, "Do not fight me, Maurette. I will have my way."

"You will have nothing if you are discovered," a harsh voice grated in the shadows behind them. Lucius's head came around. His mother stood in the fire-lit darkness. "You shall have time enough for that," she intoned sharply. "We must proceed with haste."

Lucius lifted himself and advanced on Lydia. "I warn you, Mother, do not interfere in my business," he ground through clenched teeth.

"I do not interfere," she whispered, matching his tone, "I merely point out that 'tis nearly dawn."

Maurette's eyes widened in horror as the two people faced her. She felt trapped in their silver-green gazes and clutched the bed covers to her breast.

"'Tis a dangerous enough piece of baggage to be carrying through the castle at any time. We must have her secured by dawn."

"You are right, of course," Lucius said, his breathing becoming even. A calculating smile crossed his lips. "As you say, Mother, there is time enough."

"What do you intend to do with me?" Maurette asked in a breathless whisper.

Lydia moved toward the bed and flicked the drape aside. "You are about to receive exactly what you deserve," she snarled.

"You felt affection for me, Lucius," Maurette breathed wildly. "Will you allow her to kill me?"

Lucius laughed softly. "Kill you?" he murmured silkily.

"If you kill me, you shall be murdering Dominic's babe," she blurted out. Her delicate fingertips came up to cover her mouth.

Lydia's eyes became snakelike. "This could work for us, she intoned.

"'Twill not work for you," Maurette stated defiantly, "for Dominic does not know. No one does," she said, instantly recalling Ben's knowledge of her condition.

"Not even your bastard tiring girl?" Lydia inquired harshly.

"Kitty does not know," Maurette said fiercely.

"Calm yourself, Maurette," said Lucius tranquilly. "'Tis not our intention to kill you, in any event."

Maurette was instantly filled with relief, but as quickly regained her horror as Lydia smiled a snakelike smile and reached out to grab Maurette's arm and drag her from the bed. "Let us get to the business at hand," Lydia said sharply.

"Wh-what business?" Maurette said haltingly.

"The business of your death!" The older woman shook Maurette furiously.

"But you said-"

"There is no need for such harsh treatment of the lady," Lucius interjected mildly. He turned to Maurette and drew her from Lydia's clutches. "First you must write a note, sweet Maurette."

"A note?" she said in bewilderment.

"A suicide note," he added coolly.

A flood of horrifying understanding filled Maurette's soul. She realized what they had planned for her. It would be made to seem that she had killed herself in despair over Dominic's departure. That was the reason for Lydia's dark aspect in her chamber these past weeks. It was to be assumed that Maurette should have become despondent at the older woman's despondent musings. There were two witnesses to relate what may have caused Maurette's deep despair. And now the news of her pregnancy that she had inadvertently revealed could be used as well. Ben could support that circumstance. Lydia confirmed Maurette's conclusions.

"You are to write that you have become despondent over your condition," she grated. "You shall say that you could not be sure of what would happen to you at the end of your contracted year with Dominic and that, in his absence, you became certain that there was no other choice for you but to end your life."

"Dominic will not believe it," stated Maurette with a certainty she did not feel. "He knows I love him and that even if I would consider ending my own life, I would never harm a babe of his."

"He knows' nothing of the sort," Lydia ground out.

"And you will not be here to reassure him of such lofty emotions."

Lucius chuckled low in his throat. "Lovers are notoriously insecure, Maurette," he said softly. "We shall count on Dominic's guilt at leaving you at such a time. We shall count on his guilt over his reticence to wed you. He shall be forced to no other conclusion than that he has driven you to this course of action."

"You forget the power of love," Maurette corrected them both. Her heart filled with a defiant certainty that flashed in the depths of her lavender eyes. "Dominic loves me, and he will search out the truth of this terrible plot. And when he discovers the truth, you will both find yourselves facing the horror of his wrath."

Lucius placed his hands on Maurette's slender shoulders. His head fell back as he ran his fingertips over her flesh, and he smiled lazily. "Ah, sweet Maurette, how innocent you are. Dominic has not found out the truth concerning the suicide of his own father. For two years he has lived with that untruth. What causes you to imagine that he would believe the lie of his own sire's suicide and not yours?"

"Dominic's father is alive?" Maurette breathed.

Lucius nodded. "He is. But for my mother's infirmity of purpose, the old man would be dead. She could not bring herself to complete the act, nor would she allow me to." He glanced over at Lydia and noted the arch of her silver brow. "And so the fellow languishes in a prison. Now Lydia must indulge my infirmity of purpose where it concerns you. A quid pro quo. We shall stage your suicide but, you shall live."

"I should rather die than be enslaved." Maurette's eyes sparked defiantly.

Lucius drew her to his hard length and held her in a gentle but unyielding embrace. He laughed softly. "But that would be such a waste," he said seductively. "My G-d's blood, get to it, Lucius," snarled Lydia.

Lucius held Maurette away from him. He gazed down at her, and she felt her skin crawl at the glazed hunger she saw in his eyes. "My mother slavers for your blood, sweet Maurette, while I slaver for other things." He laughed again "Do as we tell you and 'twill go easier on you." He led Maurette to her writing table where Lydia lit a candle. "Write, Maurette," said Lucius, seating her.

Her mind whirled. She must use the exact correct words so that Dominic would see the letter for the false document that it was. Writing under the watchful eyes of her captors, she chose her words carefully.

Dominic, my heart,
I leave you now because I feel not the truth of
your love. There is a babe that grows within me, and
it will be better dead than fatherless upon its birth
In my uncertainty over your love and our future, I
could see no other course of action.

Good-bye, Maurette

If there was any truth to the union of their spirits that she and Dominic had discovered at Nonsuch, he would see the falseness of those words. She prayed that Lucius was not correct in his observation about the insecurity of lovers and that Dominic would realize that she had not been insecure about their future. She had told him that she no longer needed the promise of a marriage. She had explained to him that all she needed was the truth of his love for her. Would he remember it? Would he know the trust she felt in his love? In his despair would he remember the profound depth of that trust? Maurette folded the missive and placed her seal upon it.

"And now, to the rest," said Lydia menacingly as she took the letter from Maurette's hand.

Lucius turned Maurette to him. "Oh, sweet Maurette," he said in a gently despairing tone. "How I do detest this part."

Holding one of her arms in his big hand, he swung back with his other hand and, with an almost caressing blow, connected delicately with her jaw. Instantly a flash of white hot pain exploded in her head, and Maurette fell back into Lucius's muscled arms.

He looked down on her as he lifted her fragile form. "Ah, no," he said, his sand-colored brow arching, "death will not claim this one for a very long time." As her head fell back over his forearm, he brushed a gentle kiss over the tender flesh of her arched throat. "Not for a very long time," he avowed softly.

Maurette felt awareness creep over her. There was a dank odor of wet rotted earth and a terrible unrelenting cold. She sensed rather than saw another presence. Her eyes opened slowly to find an oddly hunched caped and hooded figure near her. She tried to raise her head, but a sharp pain curtailed her movement. Far away a small fire glowed, and in its dim light, she strained to see into the interior of the black hood. A leather hand reached out to smooth away errant tendrils of hair from her face. Maurette closed her eyes wearily.

"Wh-where am I?" she rasped through, parched lips. The hooded figure did not answer her, but offered water. The coldness of the tin cup pressed against her lips was bitter and metallic tasting. Maurette winced as the water went down her dry throat painfully After one small sip, the cup was withdrawn. Maurette breathed heavily and tried to orient herself. She was lying on a pallet, and the soft earthen floor beneath her bed felt damp.

She opened her eyes once more and peered into the orange shadows made by the low fire. Turning her head gingerly this time, she could see the grim specters of the dancing flames on a stone wall dripping with moisture. The odd, black-garbed figure had moved from her line of vision. A door scraped. A postern clanked. For what seemed an eternity she lay there alone.

She must have slept, for her next impression was of the cloaked figure approaching her with the tin cup. She accepted the water once again. This time, its consumption did not pain her though she groaned audibly when she raised her head to drink. There was a dull ache in her jaw, but the cooling water soothed her mouth and throat.

"Drink slowly," said the vaguely familiar voice. She did so, and when her thirst was finally sated, she lay back exhausted. "Keep your eyes closed," the voice instructed. Maurette did so and noted behind her eyelids the sudden flair of a lighted torch. "Open your eyes slowly," rasped her attendant. Maurette very slowly opened her eyes to see that above her was a low stone and earthen ceiling. The chamber was larger than she had expected, and she realized that her pallet was in a darkened niche. "Can you sit 'up?" asked the voice.

"I ... I don't know," she said. She pushed herself up haltingly with the aid of a strong arm. Maurette gazed around the chamber, and her eyes took in some low tables on which candles guttered, several stools, and a dark figure huddled by the fire. Her head came around, and she looked in puzzlement at the hooded presence that seemed to await her reaction. Was it kneeling? It was as small as a child. Maurette squinted into the hood.

"Who are you," she said, "and who is that huddled by the fire?" The glint of bright eyes shone through the darkness, and as the little figure drew off the hooded cape, Maurette recognized Rodrigo, the dwarf. "Oh," Maurette breathed. "What are you doing ,here, Rod?"

The small man smiled a broad-toothed grin. "I might ask the same of you, my lady," he said, showing a courtly leg.

"And who is that?" Maurette inquired, pointing to the figure by the fire. Rodrigo's face fell, and an expression of profound sadness was in his eyes. "What has happened, Rod?" Maurette's voice was tremulous.

"0h, my lady," the small man sighed. "'Tis hard to tell you."

"But you must," urged Maurette. "I seem to be in some sort of dungeon. And that person," she said, glancing at the silent figure near the fire. "Is he a prisoner?"

Rodrigo nodded sadly. "We are all prisoners," he said gently.

Maurette took his powerful shoulders in her small hands. "You must tell me what this is about, Rod," she entreated.

"Yes," he stated, and tucking his legs behind him he sat near her on the earthen floor. "That man," he said hesitantly, "is ... Terrence Warbrooke."

"Dominic's father?" Maurette gasped the words, barely able to find her breath.

"Yes," said Rodrigo. "He has been here now for two years. The 'Lady Hamilton,',, Rod spat out the designation, "and her son put him here, and now they have deemed it necessary for you to join him in his lonely captivity."

"Why have they done this horrible thing, Rod?"

"That unholy couple has caused much horror in the name of their holy cause," he said sharply "Their latest horror, my lady, is your own imprisonment."

"I cannot credit this," she said, shaking her head. "You must explain it to me, if you can."

The two heard the clank of a postern gate and then the chafe of the heavy door on the earthen floor. Maurette stiffened, and Rodrigo rose, drawing his cloak around him, scuttled to the old man by the fire.

"I see that you are finally awakened," said a silky voice from behind Maurette. Her head came around to find Lucius standing in the low doorway. "I had not thought to knock you senseless, sweet Maurette," he said through a small smile. "My intent was only to stun you." His eyes hooded as he shut the heavy wooden door and advanced to her. He lowered himself, bending his knees, and looked into her eyes. "How is our lovely captive, Rod?" he said languidly.

"She has taken water, sir," said the dwarf.

"Very good," said Lucius with a cold smile. "She shall be feeling herself in no time."

"'Twould be better for her if she were drugged," said the small man in a grumbling whisper.

"What say you, Rod?" inquired Lucius lazily.

"Nothing, sir."

"I thought not," Lucius said, never taking his eyes from his prisoner. "I would imagine you are greatly confused. As per my mother's instructions, you shall be kept aware of exactly what is happening to you, and," he added with a reptilian smile, "to those you care for." Folding his arms across his knee, he began as though he were telling a story.

"Kit discovered your note and ran with it to Dr Termain. The two of them wailed a great deal and scurrying about in search of you. 'Twas that skinny simper; Jonathan, who discovered a shoe of yours in the crenelation of a parapet. Your shawl was also found near there. A searching party was sent down to the shoals, but, alas, your body was not found. "Twas washed out to sea, they have determined. My mother is naturally blaming herself for your latest disconsolation. She has apologized in mewling tones for abetting your dark humor. My uncle will forgive her; of course, but the others are not so lenient. I fear poor old Lydia will needs live with their censure for some time. As she cares not for their approbation, however, methinks she will survive."

Maurette's chin shot up "I am so relieved," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

Lucius smiled. "'Tis good. This is how I want you, Maurette. I would not have you cowed and cringing. Now," he said, standing and pacing about the low chamber, "your family must be informed of this tragedy." He noted Maurette's stiffening with a perceptible measure of satisfaction. "Yes," he said with mock sadness, they shall be profoundly saddened by the news. By the time they receive it, of course, my uncle will have returned from his noble mission." He gazed down into her eyes. "He shall rail and brawl about for a time, but then he, too, will realize his loss and descend into a deep depression. He will be overwhelmed with guilt. Perhaps he will even arrange his own suicide."

Maurette's eyes flashed lavender sparks. They were as bard as the amethysts she often wore at her throat, Lucius noted. "Do not count too heavily on such weakness in your uncle," she said, her voice strong and clear. "Remember that you are fighting the power of great love."

Lucius stopped his pacing and stood looking down on her. "That is why," he said softly, "If he does not weaken so, we must convince my uncle that, before you took your own life, you were unfaithful to him."

Maurette paled. "You would do such a thing?" she said in disbelief.

"Oh, yes," Lucius returned confidently. "I would do that and more. Perhaps my uncle will even come to believe that the babe you carried was not his, but mine."

Maurette put her delicate hand to her throat. "No," she cried. "Even you would not defile a man's dead issue."

Lucius threw back his head and laughed. His hands were on his narrow hips, and his gloating countenance enraged Maurette. "You see, sweet Maurette, even you are using the language of your own death. Think how easy it will be to convince Dominic Warbrooke of such a circumstance."

Maurette flew at him. She swung back her arms and lashed with the full force of her rage at the boastful countenance. "You are evil" she screamed, but before her blows could make contact, Lucius had grabbed her wrists. He pinned them behind her back and held the trembling woman to his broad chest. "Let me go," she cried, glaring up into his green-silver gaze. Her eyes widened, and she realized that the horrible truth she had seen that day on the secluded beach had been no irrational image. Lucius embodied the evil she had sensed in the lusting insignia of the raven. She was mesmerized by those cruel reptilian eyes.

"My father died in service to our good Mary of Scotland; When your bastard queen murdered her, his life Was made naught I will do what I must to avenge both those lives," he snarled. "The tyrant must die. And so must all who worship her."

Drawing a deep breath of foul air, Maurette realized that Lucius's hatred was in deadly earnest, and the tenor of that realization gripped her heart. His vengeance knew no bounds. The only thought that attended her now was that Dominic was in grave danger, for no one in this house had displayed more loyalty to Elizabeth than he. Maurette had to do whatever was necessary to save him.

"Lucius," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, "please unhand me." He was still holding her against him, but his grip slackened at her soft words. >From the corner of her eye she saw Rodrigo shed his cloak and stiffen, and the glint of a dirk in his hand. "Please, Lucius," she said. "If you free me, we can speak further on this. Let Rod make us comfortable by the fire," she entreated. "Perhaps he will get us some tea. Please, Rod, is there tea?" she went on wildly.

She wanted no violence to ensue now. She had to plan her course to save Dominic's life, and Rodrigo was necessary to that plan. If, in a struggle, Lucius managed to kill him, she would be left with no one but the old man to assist her. Maurette hated herself for thinking this way, but she absolved herself with the knowledge that she would risk anything, even her own defilement at Lucius's evil hands, to save Dominic.

Very slowly he released his grip on her wrists, and at the same time she gratefully noted the disappearance of the glinting dagger. She took great calming breaths.

"As I told you once before, Lucius," she said in a seductive voice, "I wish to know of your activities. I have never been politically minded, but I wish to be persuaded that yours is a just cause."

She took his arm and led him to a stool by the fire. Rodrigo drew Out another stool, and then, eyeing Maurette, he pushed a great kettle over the glowing embers of the hearth. Lucius sat down, and Maurette moved to the other stool.

"Thank you, Rod," she said with deep sincerity in her tone.

Rodrigo nodded Curtly as he set out cups on a low table nearby. The hiss of the kettle was the only other sound as Lucius began to speak.

"The gentle Mary was kept a prisoner in England for twenty years." he said softly. "During that time great numbers of discontented subjects have plotted for a means of her escape. The gentry who form the ruling class are important to our cause, but, more important are the common folk who are accused of riots and mutinies against Elizabeth. Those people form the heart of our rebellion." He looked at Maurette for a long moment, assessing the sincerity of her interest. He saw only an innocent animation in the clear lavender of her wide eyes, and so he continued.

"The rebellion is still strong. Our cause is still just. The keep at Ravenshead has for many years been a cloister for the agents of our rebellion. My grandfather," he indicated, with a small wave of his bronzed hand, the huddled form, "presented a threat to the continuance of our activities. We had no choice, Lydia and I, but to eliminate him."

"And what of me, Lucius?" Maurette asked gently. "Why must I be ... eliminated?"

He smiled obliquely. "We do not precisely wish to eliminate you, Maurette. But you do see that Dominic must be subdued. If we are to continue our work, we cannot have him prowling these environs. He is in our way; he is a potential threat to our cause."

Maurette nodded solemnly. "And you believe that my so-called death will lead his attentions from your activities."

"Lydia and I believe that you are the only thing that keeps him here at Ravenshead. He desired to make a home for you. If you are dead, 'tis likely that Dominic Warbrooke will sail away forever. If he does not…"

Maurette could not push down the fear that rose like bile in her throat. Hastily she turned from Lucius. "I too believe that Dominic will leave here at the news of my... death," she said.

Lucius laughed. "Pray that he does, sweet Maurette, for I have much to repay my uncle. His own death will not be a pretty one."

Maurette lifted her gaze slowly to his. "You will allow Dominic to leave here if he wishes to, will you not?"

His face darkened. "I will do what I deem necessary for our cause."

Innocence sheathing her desperation, Maurette went on. "But if he leaves you, you need not fear him, Lucius."

"I fear him not at all," Lucius said, his teeth bared. "Lord Warbrooke will be the instrument of his own fate. It matters little to me the path he chooses. And when he is gone, Lydia and I will turn our operation over to those who would enable the cause of Elizabeth's downfall."

"And what of Rod and your grandfather? Will you allow them to leave as well?"

Lucius glanced at the huddled form of his grandfather and then at Rodrigo and finally back to Maurette. "I cannot say," he intoned after a pause. "They are not under my protection. 'Tis Lydia who keeps them alive."

Maurette sighed. "'Twas my hope that we could all count on your generosity, Lucius."

Lucius's eyes took on a cold glint. "That was your hope?" he said icily. "Think again, Maurette, if you think to engage me against Lydia." He stood, grasping her arm and pulling her up with him. "'Tis your good fortune that I did not allow my mother to kill you when she wanted to do so. You are, nevertheless, in no position to save others." He shoved her back down onto the stool, and then with a hard look at the dwarf he turned and exited the cell.

Maurette breathed a long breath. "What shall we do, Rod?" she said hopelessly. "How can we fight the evil in his soul?"

Rodrigo moved to her side. "The saddest part of all," he said softly gazing after Lucius, "is that this 'cause, he speaks of is no more. Mary's death was greeted In Scotland and France with nothing more than indifference. The rebellion has been over for two years, and now the keep shelters only a few criminals and despicable people who seek out the largesse of its deluded master. Neither Lucius nor Lydia will admit this. Lucius continues to transport these malefactors out to sea through the inlet. Once away from Ravenshead, they find refuge on Flemish ships and think no more of England. He continues to call them the heart of the rebellion, but there is, in truth, no rebellion. The Spanish, however, form a very real threat. If Lucius and Lydia intend to offer Ravenshead to them-"

Maurette was listening intently to Rodrigo when suddenly something that he had said sparked her memory. "Wait, Rod," she said, Interrupting him. "Did you speak of the inlet?"

"Yes. There is an inlet to the sea near the northern edge of the estate-"

Maurette once again Interrupted the little man. "I know of that inlet," she said breathlessly. "I saw it the first day that I met Lucius. Do you know its mysteries, Rod?"

"I know it better than most men," said Rodrigo dourly. "I was the one who marked the channel for Lucius Hamilton several years ago."

"Then that is our freedom," she said excitedly. "You must sail Dominic's father through the inlet. I shall stay here and attempt to divert Lucius and Lydia's attention from your absence-" she stopped suddenly as she noted Rodrigo shaking his head sadly. "What is it, Rod?" she asked.

"Do you not imagine I would have done such a thing by now, if I could have? Lord Warbrooke and I have been here for two years, my lady. In that time I have planned a dozen- means of escape, but I have never brought them to fruition, for you see, dear child, though I have the run of the castle, I am as much a prisoner here as either Warbrooke or you." At Maurette's look of bewilderment he smiled sadly. "They have In their possession something that I hold dearer than my own life. Lydia and Lucius Hamilton hold my daughter hostage."

"Your daughter?" Maurette breathed. Rodrigo nodded. "But where is she?"

"In your own midst," he said. "My daughter is your tiring woman, Kitty." Tears came into his eyes, and he turned away, swiping at them. When he turned back, his eyes were bright with hatred and anger. Those animals" he growled, "have for most of her young life kept her in their good graces as long as I do their bidding. They know I will not cross their path as long as my child is in their power. The one time I did attempt to appeal to the younger Lord Warbrooke-when I attempted to reveal the loathsome plot against his father-I was tortured and nearly killed. Lydia came to me during that time and told me that Kitty would suffer unimagined torture if I persisted in the matter. Needless to say, I capitulated." His voice was now barely audible. "Once I was completely in her power, Lydia very generously forgave me," he said bitterly. "I live here under the auspices of her good grace-so everyone thinks."

"Does Kit know of your relationship?"

Rodrigo shook his head. Sadly, her mother died very soon after she was born. I would not have her live beneath the stigma of having a dwarf for a father and put her in the care of Terrence Warbrooke. When Lydia and Lucius began their crusade, they used her as leverage against me. I was forced, because of their threats against Kitty, to do their unholy bidding in the name of their unholy cause. "That is why I marked the channel for Lucius. I had little choice."

"And yet, when Lucius threatened me before, you would defended me. I saw the glint of your dirk," said Maurette.

"For the moment," Rodrigo said flatly, "I was enraged to see him treat you so. I cannot say honestly that, had the moment not passed, I would have finally defended you." He turned away. "There is too much at stake; I cannot afford to become enraged." He turned once more to face Maurette, and again his eyes were glazed with tears. "I hope that you understand. Kitty is ,my life; she is all that keeps me going in this merciless world."

"I do understand, Rod," said Maurette gently. "Kit told me that she was a bastard, you know."

"She is not. Her mother and I were married," Rodrigo stated with pride. "'Tis what they have told her," he spat, "to keep her at bay."

"In a well-positioned dam's good graces,"' Maurette intoned. Rod looked at her. "You said that to me one night in my chamber, Rod. The well-positioned dam you spoke of was Lydia. Oh, had I only known you were talking the truth. You were always talking in riddles." She turned on the stool to face him directly. "You were trying to tell me of your predicament."

He smiled a small, self-deprecating smile and nodded. "I was, my dear, but without any real hope of your understanding." As Maurette placed a small hand on his broad chest, he looked into her eyes that were limpid with sorrow. "How could someone so gentle recognize such evil?"

"But if I had only known, I could have brought the two of you together." At the thought of Kitty, Maurette consumed with pain. She lowered her head into hands. "How grieved the child must be over my disappearance, Rod."

The man put his muscled arm round her slender shoulders. For the first time since she had been taken, Maurette realized the desperation of her situation. Not only was she in a horrible captivity but, if Lucius carried out his threat, she would be made constantly aware of the agony of those who loved her. Rod put his arms around her quavering body and rocked her as she sobbed out her lament. He hummed a simple lullaby, as though he cradled a babe. Maurette's head came up, and her eyes shimmered with tears.

"That was Kit's song for Geoff," she said in a tremulous voice. "Your Kitty sang that the last night we were all together, Rod. Somewhere, in her soul, she remembers you." She saw Rodrigo's eyes fill with pain, and she embraced him. For a long time the two clung to each other in the damp, decaying chamber.

Maurette drew away and wiped at her eyes and finally attempted to compose herself. "We must do something, Rod," she said.

The man turned away and moved to the huddled figure of Terrence Warbrooke. "What can we do?" he answered, placing his hand on the old man's shoulder. Maurette moved toward them and peered down at the older man's face.

"What afflicts him, Rod?" she asked.

"He is drugged, Maurette. They come in here with a supply of laundanum from time to time. They leave it for me to administer as I see fit. I give him as little as I possibly can, but still it affects him thus. I would leave the old fellow be, but I dare not disobey them for fear of what they would do to Kitty"

Maurette gazed into the vacant, staring eyes and moved her hand in front of his face.

"Yes," said Maurette, pacing away from the two men. "And now, with me gone, we must be even more careful." She rubbed her hands together. "But there are two of us, Rod. Surely that is something to be used to our advantage." She continued to rub her hands together, and then idly she began to turn the small platinum band on her finger. Suddenly, she looked down and realized what she was doing. "This could he the answer, Rod," she said excitedly drawing the ring from her finger, she held it aloft. "This could he our salvation."

Rod peered at the small band. "What is it?"

"'Tis a ring my grandmother gave to me. With it she gave her vow that if I ever sent it to her, she would come to me. I remember she said-" Maurette paused, trying to recall Lady Violet's exact words. " 'No matter what the circumstances or how impossible your situation, you are to send it to me, and I shall come to you.' "She moved to Rod and knelt before him. "Do you not see, Rod? All we have to do is get this to my grandmother and she will come here to Ravenshead and seek out the truth of the evil plot."

The small man shook his head and allowed a small smile to cross his lips. "But how shall we get it to her?" he said, kindly.

"Oh, Rod," Maurette said in vexation, "letters leave Ravenshead every day. How are they gotten out?"

Rodrigo reflected for a moment. "They are taken overland and then, I would imagine, shipped by boat to their destination. But we could not simply drop your ring in the Ravenshead mail. One of the Hamiltons would surely intercept it." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you not see how impossible our situation is?" he said.

"'Tis not impossible," she said, standing and pacing the floor of the chamber. "There must be a way." She stopped suddenly and turned to Rodrigo. "The impossible channel!" she said, excitement In her voice. He quirked an eyebrow in puzzlement. "The inlet, Rod. You said there was a boat."

The man nodded. "There is a cave, and when the tide is high, the boat can be launched directly from the beach. 'Tis a one-man job if the elements are cooperative."

"Then we must do it. You said that you have the run of the castle. Now that there are two of us, your absences will he less noticeable. I shall make whatever excuses need to be made," she said.

Rodrigo could not help but be captivated by the woman's buoyant optimism. Her spirit of hope rejuvenated him. He drew stools to a low table, and here they sat to make their plans.

"If the weather is good," he said, "It should not take more than a day-two at the most-to get to the estate's- southern side and then back."

"Once you have reached there, you should have no trouble getting my ring onto a boat. I shall send with it a message, and my grandmother will come to us."

Rodrigo shook his head. "I cannot risk being caught; with a message, Maurette," he said kindly. "I will make the short voyage, for I could somehow explain that. I could even explain," he said softly "why I wear a platinum band on my smallest finger, but," he paused significantly, "I would never explain a message from you to your grandmother. This I could not risk, for they would not hesitate to murder my little Katherine."

Maurette smiled. "Katherine," she breathed. "Of course, her name would be Katherine. No, Rod, you are right. We cannot risk such a thing." They pondered the dilemma for a long time. Finally Maurette made a decision. "I must do it, Rod," she said with certainty in her voice.

Rodrigo laughed softly. 'Tis courageous of you, Maurette, but very foolish. How could your absence be explained? No," he said, "I am the one. For one thing, you could never navigate the channel."

Maurette reluctantly agreed.

"What if," Rodrigo began uncertainly, "I could find the missive that has been sent to your family? It could not have been sent out before today. They may delay the news even longer in the hope that you might be 'found.'"

Maurette rose. There was triumph in her voice. "That is the answer, Rod. You will find that message and slip the ring into it."

"How simple you make it sound," he chuckled. "Well," he said, rising also, "if there is any truth to charms and the magical powers of talismans such as this little ring, our efforts will be met with success. If. not," he added with a rueful smile, "I will have gotten a day's sail out of all this." Maurette moved, to him, and in the dim firelight of the chamber, she knelt before him. Taking his hand in hers, she slipped the platinum band on his smallest finger. "G-d's speed, dear Rod," she said softly.

He patted her hair gently. "And to you, dear child, for you must face their wrath if I should fail."

She looked into his eyes, which were soft and intelligent just like Kitty's. "Neither of us will fail," she said, and her faith and hopeful spirit filled Rodrigo's heart.