Glemstow Keep, Spring, 1202
Derbyshire, England
“Put the dagger on the top of William’s belongings. That way, he will be sure to see it,” Lady Edwina Langston said from the doorway of the solar.
Partway across the chamber and carrying the leather-sheathed knife, Lady Magdalen Suffield glanced at her dear friend, an auburn-haired beauty. “Of course.”
Edwina smiled her thanks. No doubt she would have put her husband’s dagger away herself, except that she was holding her four-month-old son, wrapped in a yellow blanket Magdalen had embroidered with white lambs and gifted to the happy couple a few weeks before Timothy was born. The little boy burbled, and Edwina kissed his plump cheek. “Your father was silly this morning,” she murmured, “forgetting his dagger in the great hall. What made him do such a thing, hmm? I can only imagine he was preoccupied with his day ahead.”
Timothy gurgled, as if answering her, and Edwina chuckled and kissed him again.
Envy tugged at Magdalen as she continued toward the painted, iron-bound linen chest pushed against the solar wall: a finely-crafted piece of furniture like the four-poster bed, carved chairs, and cradle that she passed by. Magdalen’s gaze skimmed over the cozy infant bed with its soft cloth toys, and the envy pulled taut within her like the fastening laces of a gown. Motherhood was a role for which Edwina was perfectly suited. She’d sung to her babe and talked to him before he was even born, and now, every time she looked upon him, her eyes shone with love.
Magdalen had always adored children and wanted to have some of her own; she couldn’t imagine a more wondrous adventure than falling in love, marrying, and creating children born out of true love. She’d witnessed Edwina’s romance, and had waited for her own chance to be swept off her feet by a handsome, gallant knight. Yet, despite her many suitors, she was now twenty-eight years of age and without any prospects for a husband.
She’d been engaged once—a marriage arranged by her parents when she was young—but her fiancé had turned out to be a hot-headed fool who’d gotten himself killed in a challenge settled by swordfight. She’d mourned him, as was right, but secretly, she’d been rather relieved not to have had to wed him, for he’d been far from an honorable man, and certainly not a hero like Edwina’s William, a former crusader and loyal subject of King John.
Until Magdalen met her own chivalrous warrior worthy of a chanson, a man who’d capture her heart and cherish her and their children forever, she’d continue to enjoy the great honor of being Edwina’s lady-in-waiting, as she’d done for the past three years.
Magdalen reached for the lid of the linen chest. Edwina laughed, the sound tender and warm, and must have tickled Timothy under the chin, for he giggled too. Their happiness eased Magdalen’s discontent a little, for she felt very blessed to be living among a family that shared such affection.
The lid rose with a faint creak, releasing the scents of wood and laundered garments. She set the sheathed dagger on the neatly folded clothes inside. Just as she was about to draw back and shut the lid, a rough-edged section of wood caught her eye. Part of the back panel of the chest was loose and jutting out the slightest fraction—as though there was a hidden cavity behind.
Excitement fluttered in Magdalen’s breast, for she’d heard of such secret hiding places, sometimes found in furniture or plank floors. William was lord of the castle, though, and out of respect for his position and his privacy, she should close the chest and forget she’d seen it.
Yet, truth be told, he hadn’t seemed himself this day, or for several sennights past. Her thoughts slipped back to last week at the town market, when she’d visited a cobbler’s shop to help Edwina choose a new pair of shoes. William had waited outside, his men-at-arms within hailing distance. While looking at the items near the window, she’d glanced out to see a man with a black beard brush past William and push a small parchment into his hand. William had swiftly tucked the message into his cloak. The exchange might not have seemed so odd, except that four days ago, when they’d returned to collect Edwina’s finished shoes, Magdalen had seen the same man outside the baker’s shop. She’d discreetly kept watch, and had seen him push a small object into a loaf of bread on the shop’s display; moments later, William had bought the loaf.
Uncertain what she’d witnessed, Magdalen hadn’t mentioned either instance to Edwina. Magdalen hadn’t wanted to worry her friend, for there was likely a reasonable explanation for each incident. Yet, the secret panel was Magdalen’s third unusual discovery, connected to William, in less than a week.
Her hand shook, and she gripped the side of the linen chest. Could William be in some kind of trouble? She’d heard rumors of noblemen who were unhappy with King John’s ongoing wars with France and his relentless taxes; some lords had been arrested for treason, their castles confiscated by the crown or battered down to rubble. William had grumbled about the coin he was obligated to send to London, but that surely didn’t mean he’d turned traitor.
Should she take a closer look at the hidden cavity, or should she forget what she’d found?
“My sweet boy,” Edwina said from the doorway, followed by the sound of more kisses.
Magdalen bit down on her bottom lip. Edwina was completely smitten by William, and had been since he’d started courting her years ago. What if he was keeping a secret that could put Edwina and Timothy in grave danger? Didn’t Edwina deserve to know?
Ignoring an inner cry for caution, Magdalen eased aside the garments pressed against the back of the chest and wiggled the panel free.
Inside was a folded piece of parchment.
“Magdalen?”
Her heart lurched. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “I will be there in a moment. I…thought I saw a spider.”
“Oh, nay!” Edwina visibly shuddered. “Please, catch it. I will not sleep tonight until I know ’tis gone.”
Edwina hated spiders. A few nights ago, she’d found a large, brown-colored one in her and William’s bed and had screamed as though she’d been attacked by a wild boar. While Magdalen had consoled her and helped to quiet Timothy, William had trapped the poor creature inside a goblet and had told a servant to set it free in the garden, but Edwina still thoroughly checked the bedding each night before climbing in.
“While I finish searching, why do you not go to the sewing chamber?” They’d wanted to sit in the orchard and enjoy the lovely spring blossoms, but after opening the shutters earlier that morning to ominous gray clouds, they’d decided to stay indoors. “I will join you shortly,” Magdalen added.
Relief flickered across Edwina’s features. “All right. And thank you, for dealing with the spider.”
Magdalen smiled. “The best ladies-in-waiting are trained to catch them.”
Edwina’s brows rose. “Are they? I had no idea.” With a mirthful wink, she added, “Who knew you kept such an important secret?”
Foreboding rippled through Magdalen, but she managed to maintain her smile as Edwina strolled away. Once the sound of her footfalls had faded, Magdalen picked up the missive and opened it, the crisp parchment rasping against her fingers. Lines of black ink scrawled across the cured skin.
My lord,
Redmond will be lodging at The Merry Hen the night of the 21st.
Did the note refer to Lord Redmond, one of the prominent officials in King John’s London court? He’d visited Glemstow last summer. Holding her breath, Magdalen read on.
You are to use the entire contents of the vial. Pour it into his drink. This will ensure swift death—
Magdalen gasped.
Do not fail us.
Her head reeling, she braced both hands on either side of the linen chest, the parchment trapped between the wood and her fingers. William was going to commit murder.
The letter wasn’t signed, so ’twas impossible to know who had ordered him to do such a terrible thing.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
How did she tell Edwina? Her friend would be devastated, her marriage likely destroyed.
Why, why, would William be involved in such a vile plot?
Her throat knotted with fear, Magdalen quickly searched in the chest for the vial. ’Twas not to be found. After carefully pushing the loose panel back into place, she shut the linen chest. Still holding the missive, she searched the table by his side of the bed.
Naught.
The twenty-first was only a few days away.
A sickly chill settled deep within her, for until that vial was found and destroyed, Redmond’s life was in grave danger. So, too, was hers, now that she knew of the plot. She was a terrible liar; she’d never be able to look upon William without betraying that she knew more than she should. She’d believed him to be a hero, but he’d fooled her well, just as he’d fooled Edwina.
Oh, God, what was she going to do?
Anger simmered, while her thoughts leaped and tangled like a trapped deer. She couldn’t tell Edwina. She didn’t dare. She would never intentionally put Edwina in peril; Edwina’s not knowing protected her.
Magdalen shivered and looked down at the crumpled parchment. Oh, mercy, but she truly had no other choice. She must do whatever she could to stop the murder.
Or die trying.