question drove in like a sword thrust, and Sir Geoffrey flinched. “They told me to do it, so it’s not my fault? Oh, come! That excuse has never worked. Are you really that weak-willed?”
Sir Geoffrey went white to the lips. He lifted his fists. “You think you can bend words and make them serve you just as you bend people to your will. You accuse me of this villainy, but it is you who put the spell on Elena.”
“I-”
“Yes, you! Did you not escape the dungeons by supernatural means? Your cell door lifted off its hinges, your jailers mesmerized and unaware of your escape until it was too late? You spirited away Lady Sophia with the help of your demons and turned Elena into a mindless, speechless creature of pity, lacking any will of her own.”
Noel frowned, bewildered. It sounded like shock trauma, and if Elena had seen the massacre of her family that might have put her into such a condition.
Before he could speak, however, Sir Olin lowered his pike to a ready position. “We serve God in this house,” he said sharply. “All my household hears mass daily. There will be no witchcraft under my roof.”
“Then drive him out swiftly,” said Sir Geoffrey, pointing his finger. “Let him not put his curse on you.”
“Nonsense!” said Noel. “I don’t practice witchcraft, you idiot. The bolts and hinges were falling apart with rust. As for Lady Sophia, she showed me a secret passageway from Mistra-a passageway, I might add, that Sir Magnin would pay dearly to find since it also leads to a fabulous treasury.”
Both Sir Olin’s and Frederick’s eyes grew large. “Lord Gerrard’s treasury?” said Sir Olin.
If he’d been a dog his tongue would have lolled out. Even Frederick’s eyes were gleaming. Noel remembered Theodore’s comment that Sir Olin was not a wealthy man.
Sir Geoffrey stood silent. He swallowed several times as though struggling to control his emotions.
“And,” continued Noel, “the Lady Sophia is safe and with Lord Theodore even as we speak. Should she not escape unlawful confinement to be with her rightful protector?”
Sir Geoffrey frowned. “He is nearby?”
“Yes.”
Sir Geoffrey swung away with a gesture of frustration. “ Jesu mea,” he said to himself. “What trouble will he cause for us now?”
“All he can,” said Noel. “Depend on it.”
“Hmm,” said Sir Olin, his gaze darting between their faces. “Hmm. It would seem there is much to discuss. I would see Lord Theodore.”
Noel kept his own attention on Sir Geoffrey, and saw the quick changes of expression registering there. The young knight had himself under control at last, icy and aloof, and he was once again acting in Sir Magnin’s interests rather than his own. Noel was not happy to see the change. He still didn’t know what was wrong with Elena, and he wasn’t sure Sir Geoffrey would tell him now.
“Well?” said Sir Olin. “I assume you have a signal that you can send to Lord Theodore?”
“Wait,” said Sir Geoffrey hastily. “I beg you to consider the terms-”
“I am considering your behavior as well as Magnin’s terms,” said Sir Olin with asperity. “Remember, monsieur, that I was seigneur here when Magnin was only a babe clinging to his mother’s skirts. I am considering all I have seen and heard.”
“No signal,” said Noel.
They all stared at him.
“This is not neutral ground as far as I’m concerned,” he said. “Not neutral enough to guarantee Lord Theodore’s safety”
The wooden end of Sir Olin’s pike thudded into the floor. “ Nom de Dieu — ”
“Sir,” broke in Noel to stop the explosion. “No offense to you, but with this hothead around… well, you understand.”
The wrath faded from Sir Olin’s face. “Yes, I do,” he said thoughtfully.
Sir Geoffrey lifted his head proudly. His face had gone stiff with anger. “I must repeat my earlier caution to you, Sir Olin. Constantinople is far away. Sir Magnin is near. He has offered you friendship in return for your fealty. He has offered you generous terms of alliance. The more we unite the stronger we shall be. We can have independence from the Byzantine stranglehold. No more foreign governors appointed at the emperor’s whim. No more calls to arms for causes that do not affect the Peloponnese-”
“No more protection from the Turks,” said Sir Olin gruffly. “Don’t repeat your speech. I said I would consider Sir Magnin’s offer-”
“Father, no!” said Frederick.
“Silence,” snapped Sir Olin. “I will also consider what Lord Theodore has to say. That is only fair.”
Sir Geoffrey scowled. “If you grant Lord Theodore asylum, then you are Sir Magnin’s enemy.”
Sir Olin scowled back. “Heavy words, monsieur. Are you certain you want to force my hand?”
Sir Geoffrey glanced at Noel, who shook his head. Sir Geoffrey flushed, but before he could speak further, Sir Olin gripped his shoulder and steered him from the hall.
“Patience, monsieur,” said the older man. “You are young and fiery. So is your master. But I have lived a long time and survived many campaigns. I did that by keeping my head and deciding wisely. Give me until the tournament. Then Sir Magnin will have my decision.”
Sir Geoffrey replied, but his voice was too low for Noel to hear. When the two men were gone from sight, Noel walked over and picked up his sword. Sir Geoffrey’s weapon still lay upon the floor. Noel picked it up as well and raised his brows to Frederick, who took it gingerly from his hand.
“I’d better return this before Father sends him across the drawbridge.”
“Wait,” said Noel, reconsidering. “Let me.”
Frederick frowned. “I doubt that is wise.”
“I’ll return it.” Noel took the sword from Frederick’s unresisting hand and strode outside into the welcome sunshine.
Sir Geoffrey was already mounted. Noel called out to him, and Sir Geoffrey turned his head. His eyes narrowed.
“You forgot this,” said Noel and handed the sword up to him, hilt first.
Sir Geoffrey hesitated only a moment before his gauntleted hand gripped the hilt. He swung it up, and Noel saw in Geoffrey the desire to decapitate him. Noel tensed, but kept his gaze locked on the knight’s. Sir Geoffrey sheathed the sword violently. His mouth twitched with visible resentment, but he said nothing.
When he reached for the helmet that hung on a chain attached to his breastplate, Noel gripped his stirrup.
“Please,” he said, keeping his voice low so Sir Olin and the others watching would not overhear. “What happened to her?”
Sir Geoffrey snorted. “What game do you play with me, sorcerer? You bring back my sword, which probably now has a spell cast on it, and you persist in this pretense of ignorance.”
“Damn you,” said Noel angrily. “No one’s casting spells. If you don’t trust your sword, throw it in the moat. How can you people go around believing such stupid superstitions? Can’t you just answer my question?”
“If a girl is as full of life as a mountain stream,” said Sir Geoffrey passionately. “If she has a heart like the wind and glows like sunshine upon the sea, then overnight turns to wood, what is anyone to think?”
“Maybe it’s grief,” said Noel with more sharpness than he intended. “Grief over her brothers-”
“She does not care about her brothers, you fool! She doesn’t know.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she witnessed the massacre-”
“No,” said Sir Geoffrey. “She stands in a daze, staring at the mountains. She speaks to no one. She listens to no one. She is dead inside, witless or possessed. And you did it to her, you-”
“Why the hell should I?”
Sir Geoffrey glared at him. “There is no logic to the works of Satan. Stay away from me, sorcerer. I vow the next time we meet I shall kill you, and no man will stay my hand.”
Fitting on his helmet, he lowered the visor with a clang and galloped across the yard to the drawbridge. Well after the hollow thud of hoofbeats upon the bridge faded, Noel stood there frowning. Elena possessed… poppycock. A wandering hypnotist might put her in a light trance, but Noel wasn’t sure hypnotism was known to the charlatans of this century. Besides, it made no sense.
