Hysteria Read online

  Mary looked to her husband but in his eyes she saw his decision had already been made. “I can’t see that I have any choice,” he said. “How am I to explain two deaths in two days after she arrived?”

  “What if she doesn’t know she’s doing it?” Mary suggested. “What if she does have some sort of power but she can’t control it?”

  “All the more reason to solve this problem as quickly as possible,” Catherine said. “I know it’s difficult to believe that someone who looks so innocent can be guilty of something so atrocious, but believe me, even beautiful people can do terrible things.”

  Mary felt her shoulders sagging under the weight of her realization. Once Catherine and Francis had made their decision, there was nothing she could say that would stop them. The only thing she could do now was prove Alys’s innocence herself.

  That is, a small voice reminded her—a voice she had been trying to ignore ever since their conversation in the herb garden—if Alys was innocent in the first place.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kenna had no idea how long she had been sitting in the dark when she felt a sharp prodding sensation in her lower back. Fighting the urge to panic, she turned, blindly feeling for whatever was sticking her.

  “Kenna, can you hear me?”

  At the very bottom of the wall, where the stable met the floor, a pinprick of dusty light sliced through the darkness.

  “Greer?” Kenna almost wept with joy at the sound of her friend’s voice. “Where are you?”

  “In a very uncomfortable position,” Greer replied. “I saw where they had taken you and hid inside some crates outside the back of the stable. I’ve been hacking away at this wall with my brooch pin forever. I thought I would never get through. God knows what they used to make these walls.”

  “Smells like dung,” Kenna said, pressing her face to the floor, trying to catch an impossible glimpse of her friend through the tiny hole. “Oh, Greer, I was so afraid you had gone back to the castle or that they had captured you, too.”

  “I couldn’t leave without telling you I had a plan,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m going to ride back right now, tell Bash everything, and then we’ll come back for you.”

  “No!” Kenna’s voice was urgent as she scrabbled uselessly against the wall. “You can’t leave! They’re planning to kill me. Greer, you’ve got to get me out of here.”

  Without warning, a blinding white light filled the stable. “Talking to yourself?” The silhouette of a man, larger than Duquesne and less finely dressed, filled the doorway. “Didn’t take you long to snap.”

  Kenna pressed herself against Greer’s opening in the back wall and held a hand over her eyes.

  “Duquesne sent you this. Eat up, witch.” The man placed a tray of sour-smelling food on the floor and pushed it toward her. “You’re going to need your strength for later.”

  Kenna curled up into a ball, making herself as small and hard to find as possible. “Witch?” she whispered.

  “We know what you are,” the man replied, spitting on the ground and missing Kenna by inches. “We know you’re with the Février bitch. We won’t waste time with the trials this time. You won’t get a chance to take away my baby again.”

  Kenna held her breath as the man stepped inside. “My wife cried for weeks,” he said, his sour breath warm on her face. “What I wouldn’t give to personally wipe your cursed kind off the face of the earth.”

  Kenna braced herself, preparing for the blow she felt certain would come.

  “What are you doing in there?” The voice of a second man cut through the threat. Kenna’s eyes, becoming accustomed to the light once again, saw one of the men from the tavern standing inside the stable. “Why are you anywhere near her?” he asked. “Do you want her to curse you as well as your wife?”

  The man pulled back abruptly, his friend’s words suddenly bestowing Kenna with a power she hadn’t reckoned on. As quickly as it opened, the door closed again, leaving Kenna drowning in the disorienting darkness.

  “Are you all right?” Greer whispered once the door had been locked and the men were long gone.

  “Yes,” Kenna said, shaken.

  “What did he leave you?” Greer asked when Kenna shuffled forward to feel out the tray.

  “Food,” Kenna said, her stomach growling with hunger. She sniffed at the cup. It smelled terrible but it was still wine, and she was as thirsty as she was starving.

  “Why would they feed you if they’re going to kill you?” Greer wondered.

  “I don’t really care,” Kenna said, fumbling around to work out what was on the tray. “I’m going mad with hunger, Greer. Perhaps this is their idea of a condemned man’s supper. Although you’d think it might be fresh at least.”

  “Kenna, stop! Don’t touch it,” Greer said sharply. Kenna paused, a lump of cheese halfway to her mouth.

  “All those people who died in the village,” Greer went on through the wall. “What if this Duquesne fellow poisoned them and made it look like the little girl did it?”

  “He’s certainly capable of it.” Kenna put down the piece of cheese and wished, not for the first time that day, that Bash were here beside her. “But wouldn’t someone have noticed?”

  “Who would suspect the man they trust to take care of their entire village?” Greer asked. “Especially when he’s offering them a scapegoat. I feel as though these people would believe anything Duquesne tells them.”

  Kenna stared at the tray of food before her. “We need to get proof,” she said.

  “We need to get you out of there. The longer you’re trapped in that stable, the more dangerous the situation becomes for both of us.”

  “Greer.” Kenna turned back toward the dot of light in the wall. “He’s told them I’m a witch.”

  She heard Greer take a deep breath and let it out heavily. “And what’s worse,” her friend replied, “is they believe him. And we know what they do to witches in this village.”

  Kenna wrapped her arms underneath her legs and pressed her face hard against her knees. They had to find a way out of the stable and back to their horses as soon as possible, or neither of them would ever see the castle again.

  If there was one person who knew the castle’s secret passageways better than Catherine, it was Mary. She had spent hours running through them as a child, dodging her bedtime and visiting her friends when she was supposed to be confined to her quarters. She knew where every doorway opened; which tunnels led to dead ends and which could lead to your death. Pulling back the large wall hanging at the back of her private sitting room, Mary opened her personal entrance to the tunnel with a good shove. She had asked Francis and Catherine that she be left alone for a while and they had, of course, agreed, Francis out of guilt and Catherine out of the misguided assumption that this meant Mary was ready to give up Alys’s case.

  As she ran lightly through the dim tunnels, she knew that Alys was being escorted to the dungeons. God knew what Catherine would do with Ada. Mary hoped against hope that Catherine would find some mercy for the young girl. It didn’t happen often, but on rare occasions, Catherine had shown Mary she wasn’t a complete monster. After all, until the servants’ deaths, she had been open-minded about Alys when often she was quick to judge.

  Her breath coming fast and hard, Mary turned a corner, following the left fork of the tunnel down a steep slope until she arrived at her destination. Without even taking a moment to compose herself, she pushed through the door and stumbled into Bash and Kenna’s bedchambers.

  “Mary!”

  Bash stood by the bed, half-clothed and fully surprised.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, averting her eyes while he pulled on his shirt. “I should have knocked.”

  “Knocked on what?” Bash rushed over to where Mary stood, tracing the outlines of the entrance in his bedroom wall. “If I’d heard knocking behind the walls, I would have likely run you through with my sword. Has that always been there? Have you used it before?”
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  “Yes,” Mary said, searching the room for Kenna. “And yes, but many years ago and before you took up residence in these rooms. I’m only relieved you didn’t decide to put a wardrobe in front of the doorway.”

  “You can’t even see where it opens,” Bash marveled. “This is amazing.”

  “Quite.” Mary took hold of her brother-in-law’s arm to get his attention. “Bash, where is Kenna? I need your help.”

  “She’s not with you?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

  Mary shook her head. “I’ve been in the medic’s quarters. Another servant died in the night and Catherine is convinced it’s Alys’s doing. Francis has no choice, they’re taking her down to the dungeons.”

  “But that’s preposterous,” Bash said. “How could she have killed one of the servants?”

  “I’m only going to ask you this once,” Mary said, her eyes trained on his. “We’ve both seen things we cannot explain, you more than almost anyone I know. Do you believe Alys is a witch?”

  “No,” Bash replied instantly. “Nor do I believe she’s a murderer, a pagan, or a heretic of any kind. She’s a frightened young girl, Mary. What has she said to make you ask me that?”

  Letting out a deep sigh, Mary held up her hands in frustration. “She told me the healer who taught her used to say words in a language she didn’t understand after he gave his patients their remedies,” she said. “I thought perhaps there was a chance she had been mixing up the herbs and the…”

  “Spells?” Bash asked.

  “Yes,” Mary said. “I know it sounds stupid but I don’t know how else to explain what’s happening.”

  “And the simplest explanation is usually the right one,” Bash said. “No matter how ludicrous it seems. No matter if it means believing a young girl has powers over life and death.”

  Mary nodded, ashamed.

  “This is exactly what happened in Auxerre,” Bash said. “Something terrible was happening and the people accepted the first and simplest explanation given to them, no matter how unlikely it might have seemed the first time they heard it.”

  “If someone you trust tells you something enough times, you start to believe it,” Mary said slowly.

  “How else would you explain some of the fashions worn at court?” Bash asked with a rueful smile.

  “And we know who was telling the villagers that Alys was a witch,” Mary said, piecing together the puzzle in her mind. “But what would he have to gain?”

  “I don’t know,” Bash said. “But something was wrong there, I promise you. He was a dark character and not even slightly intimidated by me or the crown. Reminded me of Narcisse, without the charm or the good looks.”

  “Sounds terrifying,” Mary said. “He must want something out of all this. Is there any connection to Narcisse? Or the English?”

  He shook his head. “Not that Francis or I could find. No connection to anything outside of the village. His entire life has been Auxerre. He was born there, his parents were born there. They owned a mill but it burned down, taking the majority of their fortune with it, and they lost their home. After that, Duquesne’s father took over the village council. He more or less inherited the position after his father’s death.”

  “There are two ways to handle this,” Mary said, pacing the room. “Firstly, we prove Duquesne’s guilt.”

  “That will be harder to accomplish than I’d like,” Bash said. “Without going to Auxerre and dragging him back to the rack in the dungeon, I can’t imagine how we’re going to get the truth out of him.”

  Mary looked hopeful. “And there’s no time for that?”

  “Not unless you know someone who is already in Auxerre,” Bash replied. “Besides, we haven’t enough proof to arrest him.”

  “In that case, we need to prove Alys’s innocence and find out how the two servants in the castle really died.” Mary looked to Bash for an answer. “The medic said he found no evidence of murder or cause of natural death. Both of them just seemed to stop being alive.”

  “Suspicious deaths with no evidence left behind?” he said, one eyebrow raised. “Who does that sound like to you?”

  Mary closed her eyes and winced. “Catherine. She could have poisoned them.”

  “Her reach could easily extend that far,” Bash agreed. “But that just muddies the water further. What would she have to gain from all of this?”

  “Why does anyone do the things that they do?” Mary quoted in a soft voice.

  “If she is involved, she won’t take kindly to us interfering if she wants the girl dead.” Bash grabbed his belt and slid his sword into its scabbard. “I don’t think I need to remind you that neither of us wants Catherine for an enemy.”

  “She’s been so well behaved lately,” Mary lamented, wishing she had a sword of her own. “I should have known she was being far too reasonable about all of this.”

  “We don’t know anything yet,” Bash reminded her. “Mary, we can’t take this to Francis.”

  “I know,” she said. “We need more proof.”

  “We don’t have any proof at all yet,” he corrected her. “There is nothing to link Catherine to the deaths in the castle, and not a single one of her servants will give her up. You know that they’re loyal to the death.”

  Mary considered this for a moment. “There’s a new girl,” she said. “She was going to serve me but Catherine insisted she needed her. Perhaps, if she were promised a position as one of my maids, she might crack?”

  “Only if you’re certain it won’t get back to Catherine or Francis,” Bash said. “I’ll speak to him now, find out what his plan is. If Catherine really does have it in for Alys, I’d be surprised if she lives out the day.”

  Mary nodded, pushing in the panel on the wall and opening the secret entrance once more.

  “Maybe I should put a wardrobe in front of that,” he said as she climbed back inside. “I’m not sure I like you having your own private entrance to my bedchamber.”

  Mary’s cheeks colored as she started to close it behind her. “I didn’t want anyone to find out we’d had this conversation,” she explained. “I’ll have it sealed up tomorrow.”

  “No,” Bash said, catching her hand before she could close the door. “Don’t.”

  The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Mary could scarcely remember the last time they had been so close to each other. Suddenly, she felt flustered.

  “Who knows when we might need each other’s help again,” he said quickly. “How else would you find your way to Kenna and me without the castle tongues wagging?”

  “Good point.” Mary laughed with awkward relief. “If you find her before I do, could you send her to me? I’d like her to take care of Ada while we try to work this out.”

  “I will,” Bash confirmed. “Be careful, Mary. If Catherine is up to her old tricks, it’s no doubt to protect herself in some way. And it would seem she is prepared to kill to do it.”

  “I pray that she is not involved,” Mary said, sealing the door behind her. “For Francis’s sake.”

  Listening to Mary’s footsteps fade away, Bash stood by the wall, dazed. Two days ago, he and Kenna had ridden out to Auxerre, expecting to find some silly village superstitions and be back at the castle in time for supper. Now he was trying to stop the execution of an innocent young girl, unearth the motives of a man who had threatened his life, and avoid angering a murderous Catherine de Medici, something he had been doing all his life.

  But he did it without question. For Mary.

  Gathering himself, Bash left his chambers, striding down the corridors of the castle and heading for the dungeons to find Francis.

  “Brother.”

  But fate had Francis find him first.

  “I was on my way to find you,” Bash said, trying to recall how much of his conversation with Mary he was supposed to already know. “What’s the update on Duquesne?”

  Francis shook his head and grabbed his brother’s arm. “No update on Auxerre,�
� he said, pulling him down the corridor. “It looks like Duquesne may have been right all along. It’s the girl, Alys.”

  “You believe she is responsible for all the deaths?” Bash said, trying to sound surprised. “What could have happened overnight to change your mind?”

  “I would say two dead servants was enough,” Francis replied. “But there’s more. When I sent guards to move her from the south tower to the dungeons, she was gone.”

  Bash stopped in his tracks. “Gone?”

  “Gone,” Francis said. “And until she’s found, none of us is safe.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ow!”

  “It’s time,” Greer hissed through the wall of the stable, poking Kenna with a long, thin stick. “One of the men outside just went into the tavern; there’s only one person guarding you. Do it now.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?” Kenna asked, suddenly aware of too many holes in their plan. “What if they capture both of us?”

  “Then we’ll both be burned at the stake, won’t we?” replied Greer. “So let’s make sure it does work.”

  Kenna nodded to herself in the pitch black, covered her hands with her dress, tossed the food from the tray into the corner of the stable, behind where she believed the door must be, and emptied out the wine.

  “Ohhh!” she cried, throwing herself down on the floor and writhing in fake pain. “Someone help me, please!”

  “Louder,” Greer said. “I’m coming around.”

  “Oww!” Kenna screamed at the top of her voice. “Help me!”

  The door of the stable opened slowly, a crack of light casting a gray pitch over the utter darkness. “What’s happening in there?” asked a voice she recognized as the man from the tavern. “Be quiet.”

  “My stomach,” Kenna wailed. “It hurts so much, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Then be sick and quiet at the same time,” the man said. “I don’t want to hear another sound out of you.”

  “Please.” Kenna crawled over to the door and grabbed at the man’s knees. “Please help me?”