“Good night, Trist,” she said. The marten rubbed his whiskers against her chin. She laughed.
Severin cursed. “I am surprised that Trist is here. He was missing for two hours today. I believe he prepares to return to the woods to mate.”
“He did not eat much for dinner. Perhaps he hunted in the forest and fed himself.”
“I have told him that he may stay within the keep walls. I have told him that I mind not feeding him, but he does not attend me. He is like you. I don’t like it.”
Trist mewled louder.
“When you spoke to him, Severin, did he answer you back?”
“Don’t mock me, woman. Trist understands me well enough. Just listen to him. His sounds are louder than a soldier’s snoring. His—”
Suddenly the door was thrown and Gwent burst into the chamber. “My lord! The woman Beale, she has the child. She is at the gates, swearing she will kill her if Alart doesn’t allow her to leave.”
“Saint Peter’s teeth,” Severin said. “This is idiocy. I will be there in a moment. Distract her, Gwent. Don’t let her harm the child. Go!”
He was naked, prowling the chamber, gathering his clothes, but Hastings didn’t notice. She grabbed her bedrobe, flinging it on even as she dashed past Gwent.
“Hastings, damn you, come back here.”
She paid him no heed, just sped down the solar stairs, the indented stone hard and cold beneath her bare feet. Servants and men-at-arms were milling about in the great hall. She ran through the great doors to the keep and into the inner bailey. Gilbert the goat looked up, an ancient discarded gauntlet in his mouth. A chicken, disturbed from its sleep, raised its head and squawked. A horse snorted. The moon was high.
She stopped short, breathing hard, about twenty feet from the portcullis. She saw Alart gesticulating wildly at the woman Beale. She heard him saying, “I cannot, woman. I cannot let you leave without the lord’s permission. He would kill me if I did. Where is the master?”
Hastings heard Severin close behind her. She didn’t know how she knew it was him, but she was certain. She turned. His feet were bare, as were hers.
“Saint Egbert’s elbows, I don’t believe this. Look, she has a knife at the child’s throat. Don’t move, Hastings, you’ll just make things worse.”
“How could I make things worse? What can you do that I cannot?” She turned as she spoke, but he had already eased past her and appeared as only a dark shadow against the bright moonlight. Then Gwent appeared beside her and he called out, “Beale, I have spoken to the master. He will be here soon. He will allow you to leave. Do nothing that would displease him else you will regret it.”
“What am I to do?” Alart shouted.
“Hold to your place,” Gwent said. “The master will be here soon. He is clothing himself. The rest of you men, stay back. Make no move toward the woman.”
It was as if they had planned this, but Hastings knew they hadn’t had the time. No, they had done this before. Severin was now within twenty feet of Beale. He was as soundless as the night itself, blending into the shadows as would a specter made of spun darkness. Gwent turned to her and said low, “Speak to her, distract her.” Hastings called out, “Beale, listen to me. I was wrong. It is true that you belong with Eloise. Listen to me. Bring the child back into the keep and you and I will speak of this.”
“Stay away, you lying bitch!”
Hastings lurched back at the venom in the woman’s voice. “Don’t hurt Eloise, Beale. Hurt me instead. You want to, do you not? What if I come to you? What if I agree to do whatever you wish?”
“You lie! I will kill you later. I will make you suffer just as Richard de Luci made his poor wife suffer. Aye, for two days she was in agony, and he watched, furious because we wouldn’t leave her alone and let him finish killing her. Aye, I will make you regret that you tried to take my place, that you corrupted the child—”
Severin’s left arm went around Beale’s neck, his right hand squeezed the knife from her fingers. His grip tightened. She didn’t make a sound. She went limp. Eloise flew toward Hastings, great sobs tearing from her throat.
Severin eased his hold. To his astonishment, the woman’s bony elbow shot back into his belly. He didn’t release her, but it hurt. Had she hit him lower, he would be rolling on the ground, holding his groin.
He tightened his hold and heard her gurgle deep in her throat. If he kept the pressure for just a few more moments, she would be dead. He cursed, released her, and shoved her away from him hard. She went sprawling to her knees on the cobblestones. Her dark hair hung loose on either side of her head to the ground.
“Gwent, come take the woman to the barracks. Lock her away until she returns in the morning to Sedgewick. Sir Alan can be responsible for her then.”
Gwent picked up Beale beneath her arms. She shrieked at Hastings as Gwent hauled her toward the barracks, “You’ll go to hell just as Eloise will, my proud lady. Aye, both of you will die. Both of you will return to the Devil.”
Gwent slapped his hand over the woman’s mouth. She kicked him, but his hold didn’t loosen. He just dragged her faster.
Hastings was holding Eloise against her side watching Severin stride toward her. His legs were bare. He was wearing only his tunic.
“Is the child all right?”