An Uncertain Choice(68)

“Then ’twas you who started the outbreaks of the illness?” My nausea rose up again along with the keen hurt of his betrayal.

“You’ll appreciate the fact that I’ve saved your wealth.” The abbot didn’t move, except to continue to slowly swing the ball of incense above me. “There will hopefully be enough now to build the abbey and the cathedral we’ve been planning these many years.”

“That you’ve been planning.”

“In building them, you’ll leave a legacy.”

“And perhaps you’ll gain more power and fame?”

The abbot didn’t respond. But from the gleam in his eyes, I could tell that I’d come close to the truth.

How had I not noticed his ulterior motives before now? He’d hidden them well. Or perhaps when I’d been resigned to life in the convent before knowing about the exception to the Vow, the abbot had no need to hide anything. He’d simply planned to guide me as he always had. In my insecurity, I’d turned to him all too often and made it easy for him to move me like a pawn in a game of chess.

But with the real possibility of me getting married, had he realized he’d lose the ability to control me? Had he been the one to undermine the contest, to try to murder the knights?

I lowered my head for fear he would see the revulsion roiling through every corner of my body. I wanted to ask how he’d done everything. Perhaps he and the sheriff had been working together. But what difference would it make now to know any more? I knew enough. I knew the man I’d always adored and trusted was not the man I’d believed him to be.

Anger swelled in my chest. I wanted to stand up and lash out at the abbot. But one look at the blood dribbling down Trudy’s chin and I knew I could do nothing. At least at that moment. I couldn’t risk bringing any more pain to my dear nursemaid. And clearly the guards were loyal to the abbot.

The abbot began to pray, in Latin, the opening lines of the ceremony that would irrevocably turn me into a nun. Once I spoke the vows, I would be bound to life in the convent. There would be nothing anyone could do to change my future, even if they wanted to.

Mingling with my anger at the abbot, my heart cried out with the pain of everything I was losing, the beauty of life and love. And Derrick.

I let my head dip lower, the weight of the sorrow and horror of all that was happening pressing down and threatening to flatten me. In some ways it was a funeral. Since it was now well past midday, I had no doubt the abbot had carried out his threat to have Derrick put to death. The merest thought about how much he’d suffered made me want to weep.

“We are gathered here to unite Rosemarie Montfort of Ashby,” the abbot started, “in the solemn occasion of marriage to the God of the universe.”

One of the windows near the back of the church crashed, sending shards of colored glass spraying into the nave.

I stiffened and turned in time to see a man jump through the opening. He rolled to the floor amidst the glass, and then sprang to his feet. When he straightened, I gasped.

It was Derrick, and he was still very much alive. Relief hit so swiftly that I gasped out a half cry. His hair was windswept and his chest heaved as if he’d run the distance from the castle to the convent.

Derrick’s steel eyes swept around the church and came to rest on me for an instant. His gaze raked over me as though surveying my safety before he strode to the center aisle, holding his halberd with both hands, with his knight’s sword holstered on one side and his dagger on the other. He spread his feet wide, and his eyes blazed with fury. The convent guards started to slowly approach him, their swords unsheathed and gleaming in the bright light that streamed from the open window.

I counted the number of guards advancing upon him. Eleven.

A new fear seized my heart. How could he possibly fight against eleven well-trained and armed soldiers?

A movement by my side and another drawn sword raised the count to twelve. The soldier that had been guarding Trudy was joining the ranks of those circling around Derrick.

He would soon be trapped in the middle of twelve soldiers.

I wanted to scream my protest. But how could I? What good would it do now?

As one of the guards lunged at Derrick, he rapidly beat him away with the axe head and then fended off another blow with the sharp spear-like tip of his weapon.

My breath caught in my chest and I turned away, unable to watch him fall to his death.

At that moment, my gaze landed on Trudy, whose agonized eyes begged for release from her pain.

One look at the abbot told me he was distracted by the skirmish. If I hoped to free Trudy, now was my chance. I couldn’t delay.

Before the abbot tried to stop me, I stood and made my way to my nursemaid. Even though my hands were bound, my fingers were still free. With the grunts and cries of the battle taking place behind me, I resisted the temptation to crumple to my knees and cry out in dismay at the sight of the contraption on Trudy’s face.

Instead, I found the leather strap and latch at the back of Trudy’s head that held the torture instrument in place. With shaking fingers, I fumbled for it. At the barest movement, Trudy gave a guttural, animal-like cry of pain.

“Our Father who art in heaven,” I whispered while swallowing screams of my own. I wanted to back away, to hide, to pretend this was all just another nightmare. I wasn’t sure that I could face my fears so fully.

A roar sounding much like Derrick’s voice came from the battle, jarring me and reminding me that he was facing twelve armed guards. He’d come to rescue me. If he could defy death itself and fight so valiantly, surely I could stand strong too.