The Maid's War(34)

She reached the hiding place just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter!” Alensson said gruffly.

A maid entered the room with a tray of bread and cheese. Ankarette knelt by the bed, positioning a pillow in front of her face. It concealed her, but she had left a gap so she could watch. The girl’s hair was a little disheveled, and the lacings at the front of her servant’s gown had been hastily tied. Her hands were shaking, making the tray rattle slightly.

“For you, my lord,” the girl stammered, walking in. “Where would you like the tray?”

“I don’t recognize you,” Alensson said. “Where is Katalina?”

“She’s . . . sick,” the girl apologized. Ankarette could hear the lie. The girl’s face was pale. Her eyes were lowered, but she kept starting to turn and then stopping. Ankarette deduced that she hadn’t come alone and the person who had come with her was skilled at moving quietly.

“Right over there, if you please,” Alensson said, motioning to the small table where the remains of his dinner still sat. “Take the other tray with you, girl.”

“Yes, my lord. Anything else, my lord?” The girl was absolutely frantic to leave. She hastily went to the table, then set down the new tray and began cleaning up the other one.

“Yes, one thing.”

The girl paused, her shoulders quivering. “Yes?”

“Tell the man who poisoned my food that I’m not very hungry.”

Ankarette closed her fingers over the pillow. Her heart was pounding, but her nerves were taut. She saw someone move in the shadows of the doorway. The man took one step forward and threw a dagger at Alensson.

Ankarette had expected it after hearing Alensson’s pronouncement about the meal. She flung the pillow at exactly the right moment, and it blocked the dagger from meeting its mark. The old duke was quick and was already leaning to one side. The blade would have sailed past him and crashed into the window if Ankarette hadn’t changed its course. The serving girl shrieked and cowered, gibbering with fear as Ankarette rushed after the murderer.

He was already fleeing back down the steps when she reached the doorway. Her aim with a dagger was better than his.

She had poisoned the tip, naturally, and its venom worked quickly. By the time she reached his trembling body, his eyes had rolled back in his head and his lips had turned blue. She found the poisoner’s supplies and quickly confiscated them. His fall may have been heard lower down the stairs, so she needed to act quickly. She pulled his body back up into the room.

“Garderobe?” she asked, panting with the exertion. All the muck from the privies in castles was sent down garderobe holes, which dumped into the moat around the yard. This palace was built alongside a river, which would make it even easier to hide the body.

Alensson was kneeling next to the girl, comforting her, but he pointed toward the closet.

With a heave, Ankarette tilted the body of the poisoner into the garderobe shaft and listened to the sickening scraping noise it made it as it slid and then plummeted into the abyss.

She was sweating from the work, but she’d dragged bodies before.

By the time she finished, Alensson had gotten the serving girl talking. The poisoner had killed her friend, who’d refused to assist in the murder attempt, and he’d grabbed her next. She was so grateful to be alive, she’d do anything they asked of her.

Alensson patted the serving girl’s shoulder. “Now, you tell the butler, Geoffre, what happened. Do you understand me, lass? Tell him that a man tried to kill me tonight. But you tell him that the old duke won’t be beaten so easily. Don’t tell him about her,” he said, pointing to Ankarette. “Would you do that for me?”

She was sniffling and wiped her nose. “I swear it, my lord. I swear it.”

“Good girl. Now be on your way.” He gave her a kindly smile, and she took the dirty tray and the poisoned tray away.

After she left, Alensson turned to Ankarette. “We worked well together, Ankarette. Would I could persuade you to rescue me from this dungeon. That’s the third time Chatriyon’s son has tried to murder me.”

Ankarette felt bile rise in her throat. “The third time?”

Alensson nodded. “I’m a popular choice for executioners. Yes, I’ve committed treason. Who wouldn’t when you have such a black king.” He enunciated the last two words slowly and deliberately and quite differently, his eyes watching Ankarette’s for a reaction, but he saw only befuddlement. He seemed disappointed.

“King Lewis has an inordinate number of poisoners working for him,” Ankarette said. “They call him the Spider King in the poisoner school in Pisan.”