Chapter Twelve
"Come here, Lianne, there's something I need to show you."
"All right…" She followed her father out of the Great Hall. They walked up the narrow set of stairs that landed on an allure along the rampart.
"The view from here is lovely, is it not?"
"Definitely," Lianne agreed. Before them stretched the forest, the trees marching down a steep incline and into the lush valley below. Far off in the distance was the sea, a faint mist-shrouded strip of blue on the horizon.
"'Tis a shame I did not spend more time here as a child," Lianne remarked. She liked her father's estate in Brittany well enough, but something about the wild, untamed beauty of this land had captured her. Or perhaps it was the freedom she felt here. Her mother had never approved of her, always criticizing one thing or another.
"You'll never be a proper lady, Lianne," she complained. "If you would pay half as much attention to your needlework, the lute, or your voice as your father's moldy old books and that ghastly fencing and archery, there might be hope for you yet."
"Mother, I seek only the ability to defend myself," Lianne explained.
"That's what we have men for," was her mother's crisp response. "Blast your brother for teaching you such horrid things. I do feel for poor Bedford sometimes. Look at that mussed hair! That rumpled gown! A woman's hands were not meant for swordplay. What man would want a woman with those calloused, manly hands?"
Lianne had been self-conscious about her hands ever since.
But her father was everything her mother was not. Loving and doting, he not only approved of her learning fighting skills but even encouraged it. "I would like to think a daughter of mine is not totally helpless," he joked. "And as for finding a husband, heed not what your mother says. I know Bedford; Robin will be good for you. He is the most decent of men, and he will accept you as you are."
"I know, Father." She sighed. "But I'm afraid… I do not love him. Granted, I honor and esteem him, but 'tis not what I always wished for myself."
"I'm afraid the love of which you speak is an invention of the bards, my dear. 'Twould be wonderful if we could all find it, but alas, so few of us do. I barely knew your mother when we married. I learned to cope."
Aye, by escaping to England, she thought, but did not say.
"In time, you will come to care for Robin, perhaps even love him. 'Tis more than most women find in this life."
"I suppose." But at eighteen, she longed for the love depicted by so many of her beloved chansons. Thus far only one man truly struck her fancy, made her heart beat a little faster and her blood run a little warmer. One look in those brilliant green eyes, and she was lost. But Sir Kendrick de Montclair was the last person she could expect to marry. A mysterious knight-errant of humble origins, he had neither lands nor a title. Worse yet, he was in the employ of Lothar of Blackwood, whom she knew her father mistrusted. She had long resigned herself to the fact that Kendrick, like her mother's acceptance, was just another impossible dream.
Lianne's thoughts were pulled back to the present when her father led her back down from the ramparts. They entered the outer bailey, ducked and wove about through so many twists and turns that had she not known this castle so well it would have made her dizzy. Eventually they emerged at a particularly deserted section of the outer wall.
"What is this all about, Father?" she asked.
Henry's eyes were grim as he said, "I worry about you in my absence, Lianne. I'm afraid Blackwood is going to try something. In case he does, there's something you should know."
He felt along the stone wall until his hand hit a cleverly hidden catch. Lianne watched in amazement as the wall slowly swung inward, revealing a dark and cavernous passage.
"You must make sure no one ever knows of this," Henry warned. "The wall has double reinforcement, to make up for the weakness, but an invader could still take advantage."
Lianne nodded, taking it all in. "Where does it emerge?"
"At a hidden location in the forest. 'Tis not important where. My only reason for showing this to you is, should Blackwood try to invade, 'tis a way out of the castle."
Lianne was disturbed by her father's suspicions. "Think you Blackwood intends to take Langdon by force?"
"I would put nothing past the man. My men will protect you, but I want to be sure you'll be all right while I'm gone."
"I'll be fine, father," Lianne assured him. "I pray I'll have no need of this knowledge, but I thank you for trusting me with it."
"In all honesty, I trust no one else."
Lianne was always impressed that her father had so much faith in her, a mere woman. He treated her as though she had intelligence, as though she were important. Would that she could find a husband who showed her such respect!
"You'll not be in France long. I can hold down the fort until you return," she said confidently.
Her father smiled, but she could not shake the feeling that uneasiness lurked in the depths of his brown eyes. "I know, my daughter."
She smiled back, but the threat of war, both here and overseas, cast a pall over this otherwise beautiful day. She only hoped it would all end soon enough, and peace would eventually return to her life.
Early the following morning, a messenger arrived with tidings of Blackwood. He was back in England and would be arriving in Langdon on the morrow. He would have the lady's answer then.
The news only darkened Lana's mood even further. She had suffered a night of anxious, restless sleep. When she wasn't agonizing over Clark, she was vividly experiencing yet another of Lianne's memories. She fought to keep her eyes open during morning mass, despite Gillian's whispering translations of the sermon throughout.
Afterward, she told Gillian to go ahead to breakfast. Lana slipped into the confessional and crossed herself. "Father, bless me for I have sinned. It has been twenty days since my last confession."
"What ails you, my daughter?" asked the priest through the screen. He had a soothing, comforting voice.
Lana drew a deep breath. "I love a man I can never have. And on the morrow, another arrives expecting my hand in marriage, which I vow not to give him."
"Because you love this other man."
"Yes… and I fear this second man's intentions are dishonorable."
"And you know the man you love is good?"
"Aye, he is. He is the most decent man you'll ever meet," Lana said softly.
"I'm afraid 'tis a hard decision ahead of you, my daughter," the priest replied. "The life of a woman is not an easy one. Your second loyalty, after the Lord, is your husband or to your father. Would he wish you to be with either of these men?"
"He would wish me to be happy," Lana answered, slowly. "I could be happy with the man I love, but… 'twould go against everything I believe in. I know he loves me but he can't give me what I need."
"Then you must decide what is most important to you. Is love worth sacrificing everything, including your own honor? Can you live with this man, knowing he cannot provide what you need from him? Should you decide to wed him in the eyes of God and the king, you must be sure 'tis truly what you want."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "I know, father."
"Do not worry, my child," the priest assured her. "Pray. Search within your soul. You will find that God and your heart will lead you to the right answer."
Lana was comforted by his words, despite the fact that he didn't really tell her anything. "Thank you, Father."
"You know you're welcome anytime, my daughter."
She vacated the confessional feeling cleansed, reassured. But when the moment passed, she found herself as uncertain as she ever had been.
She loved Clark with a force so frightening and wonderful in its strength, she knew that giving him up was impossible. But was it worth having him if she could never have his whole heart? Would she be able to love him knowing there was always a part of him he kept secret from her?
Maybe it is worth it, she decided. Would it be better to have only part of him, or not to have him at all? Gillian had played it safe and left Dan behind in London. But she wasn't Gillian… she couldn't just take life as it came, keep a little distance between her and the guys she got involved with. Somehow her heart always got in the way, at least as far as Clark was concerned.
Oh, God, I love him so much, she thought, fighting back a rising tide of despair. Heaven help me.
Blackwood was coming back.
The news was enough to sour Clark's already-bad mood. He sat dutifully through morning mass, trying to look attentive even though he couldn't understand a word the priest was saying. But despite his best efforts, he kept glancing toward Lana and Gillian. Lana was careful never to meet his eyes. He knew they would have to hide what was going on between them, but it was driving him crazy. Every time he saw Lana, he wanted to drag her against him and kiss her senseless.
The fact that he was thinking such things in the house of God made him feel even worse, so he tried to focus his attention on the most unsexy thing imaginable. He reminded himself of that time on the class picnic when he was forced to see Mrs. Winston in a swimsuit. That was enough to kill any lustful thoughts he'd been having.
He saw Lana slip into a confessional after mass, and hung around outside the chapel despite his better judgment. He had to see her. Several moments later, he sighted a small figure making her way out of the chapel. She looked up, her eyes instinctively finding his. He strode over to her, and they both retreated into the shadows where they could speak discreetly.
Clark was going to greet her with a good-morning kiss, but the distressed look in her eyes stilled him. "Lana, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "You look upset."
Her throat bobbed delicately as she swallowed. "I had another one of Lianne's memories last night."
Judging by her expression, it couldn't have been good. "What did you see?"
"Henry was showing Lianne some kind of secret passage out of the castle. He was really worried about her, Clark. He seemed convinced that Blackwood wanted to harm Lianne, or more accurately to harm him through Lianne."
"I see." Clark's mouth formed a grim line. "So you say there's a secret passage out of the castle somewhere?"
She nodded. "Yes… which also means it's a secret way in to the castle. We need to find it, make sure this knowledge doesn't fall into the wrong hands."
"Exactly. If Blackwood really does plan to take the castle by force, we have to make sure no one knows about this passage but us."
They both glanced about to confirm that the corridor was deserted, and were relieved to see it was.
"Do you remember where the passage is?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Lianne knew the castle well, but I don't. I have a vague idea but not much more."
"Then we'll get Gillian. She's been to the site a few times, and maybe she knows something we don't."
"I hope you're right."
They found Gillian at breakfast. When the news of Blackwood's return arrived, it cast a shadow over everyone's mood. It was more important than ever to find the passage promptly.
Lana explained her vision to Gillian, who took it all in grimly. Then they set out to find the passage. Fortunately, Gillian was familiar enough with the castle to navigate the tortuous passage Henry had led Lianne through in Lana's vision. Once they reached the far end of the castle, they set about the daunting task of combing every inch of the outer wall—no small feat.
Making sure Lana and Gillian weren't looking, Clark used his X-ray vision to scan the outer wall. It wasn't long until he found what they were looking for. Casually, he made his way over to the section of the wall and felt around, pretending to be searching for the catch even though he now knew exactly were it was. After a moment, he called, "Hey, I think I found something!"
Lana and Gillian rushed over in time to see the cleverly hidden door slowly swing inward. When the door was shut, the wall appeared seamless—it would've been impossible to find the entrance to the passage if you weren't looking for it.
"Jeez, are you psychic or what?" Gillian wanted to know. "Clark, I have never met anyone so good at finding needles in haystacks as you."
He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "My parents always said I had good eyes."
"I guess." Still peering curiously at him, Gillian walked over the passage door. Clark and Lana watched as she disappeared into the shadows, emerging a moment later with an unlit torch. "Flint and tinder, anyone?"
Moments later found them navigating the narrow passage. It was total darkness beyond the flickering glow of Gillian's torch, and Clark could tell it made Lana nervous. She reached for his hand in the dark, and he curled his fingers around hers reassuringly.
The gesture did not go unnoticed by Gillian, but she did not comment on it. "Man, this is freakin' awesome… I can't wait to get to the site once we get back home, and tell my Dad about this. He'll be stoked!"
Her smile slowly faded as a thought crossed her mind, the same thing they were all thinking: if we ever get back home.
The passage was narrow, dank, and reeked of mildew and stagnant water. Likely they were passing under the moat. The walls were reinforced by several thick beams placed at frequent intervals, and soon the tunnel grew so narrow they were forced to walk single-file. There were several instances when they were sure they had reached a dead end, only to find that the passage went around a sharp turn. "Whoever built this was pretty smart… these turns will slow down invaders, should they find the passage," Gillian commented.
They walked on and on for what felt like forever, until Gillian's torch illuminated an earthen wall in front of them. Gillian shone the light all around to make sure they really had reached a dead end. "Looks like this is the end of the line, folks."
"So where's the door?" Lana wanted to know.
"It's gotta be around here somewhere." Gillian began examining the walls.
"This passage obviously hasn't been used for a while. Maybe it's buried," Lana suggested.
Clark used his X-ray vision again to locate the door, which was concealed by a thin layer of earth. "It's here."
Gillian glanced in the direction he indicated. "OK, Clark, you are officially weirding me out. You're not one of those meteor freaks I keep hearing about, are you?"
He shook his head. "Not as far as I know of."
Gillian began digging away at the wall, and he joined her. "Then you're clairvoyant," she concluded. "Do you think you might have The Sight?"
"The Sight?" he echoed blankly.
"Many pagan religions maintain that some are born with the ability to see into the future. Is anyone in your family is a practicing witch or warlock?"
He got a mental picture of his parents decked out in black robes and chanting over a cauldron, and nearly laughed. "Er, no. Not that I know of."
"Really… because I recall Isolde saying you were special, like Kendrick. There was speculation that he might've been a warlock, given his amazing feats in battle."
Clark gave an ironic laugh. "Gillian, have you been smoking something?"
"Smoking won't be around for another few centuries," was Gillian's tart reply. "So you're saying you don't believe in this stuff?"
"In a word, no."
"I'm surprised at you, Clark. You come from Smallville, capital of X-Files-ish weirdness, and you don't believe in the paranormal?"
"It's long been acknowledged that most of the weirdness that goes down in Smallville has to do with the meteor rocks."
"Perhaps… but what brought us here? Don't tell me those blasted meteor rocks. It was magic and you know it."
That gave him pause. "I guess that's the only explanation for it. But I can assure you, I don't have this Sight and I am definitely not a warlock."
"I don't know, Clark," Lana spoke up. "You sure you're not clairvoyant? You did get that phone call from me in the future… and we never really found an explanation."
"So what are you saying, you think I'm a warlock, too?" He tried to laugh it off.
"Maybe not a warlock… but you definitely have some… powers." He caught the coy twinkle and her eye and was extremely glad the darkness hid what he was sure was a blush.
Gillian was regarding them with barely disguised amusement. "Do tell."
"Oh, it's nothing you don't already know," Lana fudged quickly. "Clark has impeccable timing. He always seems to show up whenever I need him."
"See? I told you. The Sight," Gillian said knowingly. "He knows when you're in danger."
"He always did have amazing intuition," Lana agreed.
Clark was starting to get extremely uncomfortable. "Um, guys, do you mind if we postpone this conversation till later? It smells funky in here, and I'm starting to get mildly claustrophobic."
"What? The invincible Clark Kent has claustrophobia?" Lana said, the corners of her mouth turning up mischievously.
"I said mild claustrophobia."
"Well, whatever your deal is, I'm also very much in favor of us getting out of here," Gillian spoke up. "Clark, you wanna help me with this door? It appears to be stuck. I need a strong buff guy, but I guess you'll have to do."
"Oh, you are so going to pay for that," he warned, with a teasing grin.
"Suppose that's what I get for pissing off a warlock," she kidded. They yanked the door open, ducking a shower of earth. Light filtered in through the opening, and thankfully, so did fresh air.
"So let's see where this tunnel ends," Gillian said. She climbed the rickety staircase leading out of the tunnel, with Clark and Lana behind her.