The Blood Knight - J. Gregory Keyes [59]
“I think I would believe anything at this moment,” Anne said. She felt blunted, a knife used too often to cut bone.
Austra lowered her voice further. “They say that when they were young, Lesbeth was like Robert: cruel and jealous.”
“Lesbeth? Lesbeth is the sweetest, most gentle woman I have ever known.”
“And so she became, they say, after Rose vanished.”
“Vanished?”
“Never to be seen again. No one knows what happened. But Lesbeth cried for days on end, and Robert seemed more agitated than usual. And after that, Robert and Lesbeth were not seen together as much. Lesbeth was like a new person, seeking always to do good, to live like a saint.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying that Robert and Lesbeth killed Rose?”
“As I said, no one knows. Her family prayed, and wept, and made petition. Soon after, her mother and closest relatives were lent to the household of the Greft of Brogswell, a hundred leagues away, and there they remain.”
“That’s horrible. I can’t—are you saying that my father never made any investigation of this?”
“I doubt very much it ever reached the ears of your father. It was settled within the world of the servants. If the rumor had gotten to your family, it might as easily have come to the attention of your father’s political enemies. In that case, any servant who knew anything might have vanished quite as suddenly—and without explanation—as Rose.
“So the Boar put it out that Rose had gone to work with her sister in Virgenya and made sure there was a record of her request to do so. Rose’s remaining family was quietly moved off lest in their grief they should begin talking to the wrong people.”
Anne closed her eyes and felt a face there, pushed against the shutters of her lids, a pretty face with green eyes and an upturned nose.
“I remember her,” she gasped. “They called her Cousin Rose. It was that time on Tom Woth, the Feilteme celebration. I couldn’t have been more than six winters.”
“I was five, so you were six,” Austra confirmed.
“You really think they killed her?” Anne murmured.
Austra nodded.
“I think she’s dead. It may have been an accident or a game that went too far. Robert has a lot of games, they say.”
“And now he’s on the throne. My father’s throne. And he has my mother locked up in a tower.”
“I-I’ve gathered that,” Austra said. “I’m sure he hasn’t hurt her.”
“He’s ordered my death,” Anne replied. “There’s no knowing what he’ll do to Mother. That’s what I must concentrate on, Austra. Not whether I can be a queen or not but on freeing my mother and putting Robert where he can do no more harm. Just that, for now.”
“That sounds sensible.”
Anne breathed deeply and felt a bit of weight lift from her shoulders.
They were back out of the forest now and coming down to the road. Anne could see Sevoyne in the distance, and she wondered if this time she would actually go past it.
“Anne!” Someone shouted from behind. “Casnara, ah, rediatura!”
She glanced back and saw Cazio, boxed closely on all sides by Craftsmen.
“What is it, Cazio?” she replied in Vitellian.
“Could you please instruct these men that I am one of your very valued companions? If indeed I am?”
“Of course,” Anne said. She switched to the king’s tongue. “This man is one of my bodyguards,” she told the Craftsmen. “He may approach me whenever he wishes.”
“You pardon, Highness,” one of the knights said, a pleasant-looking young man with auburn hair and something vaguely gooselike about him.
“But we may take nothing for granted.”
She nodded. “What is your name, sir knight?”
“If it please you, Majesty, my name is Jemme Bishop.”
“A good Virgenyan name,” Anne said. “I thank you very much for your protection. Despite his demeanor, this man has my trust.”
“As you say, Majesty,” the fellow replied. The horses gave a little ground, allowing Cazio to ride up.
“We’ve a retinue again,” he said, glancing back at the knights. “I wonder if this one will survive longer than the last.”
“Let us hope so,” Anne said. “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken until now. Things are