“My lord, you have astonished me yet again with your foresight!” Maris fluttered her eyelashes at him as she pulled her hand away. Wiping it surreptitiously on the edge of his tunic, she clambered over the bench, noting with satisfaction that there was nary a crumb of food left for even the dogs to nibble on. “Pray excuse me, as I must see to the evening meal, now, my lord,” she hurried away.
“It was an excellent meal, my lady,” Dirick’s deep voice came behind her as she crossed the hall.
Her back stiffened even as her heart leapt. She had not forgotten his rude awakening of her the night past, and the way his warm, solid body had pressed into hers. Thus, Maris studiously ignored the man as she entered the kitchens. After giving r
apid direction to the cook, she gathered her skirts and returned to the hall to order the rotting rushes to be removed.
By the time new rushes were being spread upon the floor, Maris’s stomach was churning. ’Twill begin any time now.
“My lord, I will withdraw to my chamber,” she approached the dais. “I do not feel well. ” The queasiness that stole over her was not entirely fabricated. “I will nap and join you for supper. ”
Bon nodded graciously, “Of course, my lady. I shall send Agnes to you ere I see her. ”
“Thank you, my lord. ” Maris turned and walked steadily toward the stairs, aware of Dirick’s dark gaze boring into her back. He must not suspect anything, she thought, pulling herself slowly up the steps. Desperate, knowing that his gaze had held a hint of suspicion at her excuse, Maris jammed a finger down her throat as she rounded the corner at the top of the steps.
She managed to gasp a convincing, “Sir D—” before she turned and retched up her dinner—right onto Dirick’s leather boots. Sagging against the rough stone wall, she struggled for breath against what was actually a laugh at the horrified look on his face.
“Pardon,” she managed to make her voice sound embarrassed and contrite. “I must lie down. ” She fled from his presence and into her chamber as quickly as her “illness” would allow.
Once behind the closed door, she allowed her mirth to escape, smothering her giggles with the heavy pillows on her bed. It was several moments before she heard Dirick take up his post outside her door—just enough time for him to have wiped off his boots and called for someone to clean up her mess.
Maris dozed whilst she waited for Agnes to join her…and for all chaos to begin belowstairs. She would need all of her faculties about her later that night.
When the maid arrived at the bedchamber, she was in good spirits. “My lady, ’tis happening,” Agnes announced as the door shut heavily behind her. “Just as you said!”
“Excellent. ” Maris smiled complacently. “How does our guard seem to be faring? ’Tis he who concerns me the most…besides my lord Bon. ”
“Sir Dirick has not become ill yet, though from the very look on his face, verily he will be reaching for a chamberpot soon. ”
“Or rushing for the garderobe. ” Maris stifled a giggle.
“What did you put in the food, my lady?”
“’Tis a plant called broom,” she explained. “’Twas all good fortune, really, Agnes, for one of the old brooms in the kitchen had bristles made from the plant. The dried branches, with leaves and flowers, may be steeped and used for medicinal purposes. Yet, my mentor, Good Venny, always warned that ’tis an herb that must be used with care, for it has great power. It causes the body to—ah—dispose of its contents in a violent manner. Though it won’t kill them, it will likely cause more than one to wish for death. It was a much better choice than elder bark, which I had thought to use until I saw the broom. ”
“Do you not think Lord Bon will suspect ’twas you that poisoned the meal?” asked Agnes.
Maris rose from her prone position on the bed. “Nay, for I told him that the meat stank, and that mayhap some of it was prepared for supper. Then, I made myself sick upon Sir Dirick’s fine leather boots. ” She drew the tattered tapestry back from the window slit, noting with satisfaction that the sun had nearly set. “Is all in readiness?”
“Aye. I have hidden the foodstuffs I purchased in the village with your ring, my lady, and a mount awaits us near the hidden entrance to the keep. ”
Maris turned in surprise, delight spanning her face. “A mount, you say? Agnes, how on earth…?”
“The stable master bears no love for Lord Bon, my lady, and ’twas no great feat to convince him that I plan to escape with a lover now that my lord has found a bride!”
“Very well, then. ’Tis nigh time that we should leave. ” She scrabbled through a trunk and pulled a large leather pouch from its depths. Inside were two heavy cloaks she’d found in the piles of clothing Bon had made available to her, as well as a dagger she’d sneaked into her sleeve earlier that day.
As the two women moved toward the heavy door, they heard a loud groan from without. Maris looked at Agnes and carefully opened the door.
Dirick was doubled up on the floor, his face pasty with pain and glistening with sweat. When he heard the oaken door creak open, he struggled to sit, but the pain that wracked his abdomen had obviously weakened him. There was a pool of vomit nearby, proving that he had not chosen to leave his post when the sickness struck.
Maris tried to slip past him, but Dirick gathered enough strength to snatch under the hem of her gown and grasp her ankle. “You are not ill!” he grated, comprehension in his face. “By God, woman, you have done this!”
Agnes hurried past, but Maris, still caught by the ankle and not wishing to make a great disturbance, struggled to free herself. “I had no choice,” she told him, confident that he was too weak to stop them. Indeed, his strong arm trembled with the effort to hold her and she saw a ripple of pain cross his face. “Papa would not be here soon enough. ” With her other foot, she kicked at his hand, but his grip did not loosen. “Release me,” she hissed, bending to claw at the arm that held her firm.
Dirick’s other hand shot up to grab her wrist. “Have you poisoned me, then?” his eyes glittered. “Have you poisoned the whole keep in your haste to escape?” He could barely force the words forth and he yanked her down to her knees next to his prone body.
Her face was nearly in his, and her long hair caught in the sweat on his cheek. For a moment, a brief instant, regret washed over her that he should be in such pain because of her doing.