Secret Of The Manor (25 page)

A woman from the crowd screamed, “Saxons.”

Then all hell broke loose. People ran in all directions. But the Saxons were not interested in the innocent dead. They aimed for those who, dead or living, had assisted evil, of which there were more than Warren expected. Numbers were split between good and bad. Warren spotted Oliver protecting Carol while they inched towards Milady. He wanted to intervene, but he had his hands full with the Black Knight.

Sir Camrin had retrieved a spear from the rack of weapons and wielded it like a staff. Warren ran for his shield just in time to deflect a strike. The shield was the only way he could productively use his injured hand, which ached, and Warren could feel the wetness of blood within his glove. Warren hollered to Carl and James, “Get yourselves and the horses to safety.” He then took a side-on blow to the midsection, and for once he was thankful for his breastplate. He continued to exchange attacks with an extremely pissed-off Black Knight.

“Defeated, yes. Dead, not yet,” Warren grumbled. “How the hell do you kill a dead man?”

“Thou dost not; I do,” came the deep voice of a man to his side who pushed Warren out of the way and took over. “The Black Knight and I have much to settle.”

Warren stared at his replacement. Dressed in purple, with a black steed by his side, the man fought with the Black Knight. It could only be one pairing: The Purple Knight, Sir Edmund of Sax, and his charger, the amazing Ebony Air.

Of course
, Warren thought.
Sax, Saxon. Milady returned him to
his relatives by secretly burying The Purple Knight with his kin, the Saxons, in the field down the hill. Protected, until the time was right.

Suddenly Sir Camrin’s focus changed again and he made for Nicholas. Warren intercepted him. Sir Edmund followed and ran headfirst into Nicholas’ path. The men abruptly stopped, and then Nicholas jumped into his knight’s arms.

Warren’s heart warmed at the sight, but he was more thankful when Sir Edmund resumed his battle with the Black Knight, as Warren felt as though lead was filling his limbs.

Three things happened at the same time.

Sir Edmund kneeled and ran his sword through the Black Knight’s exposed armpit and into his chest, immediately stopping any further advances. Milady threw a dagger, hitting Carol square in the throat. Her hands flew up, and blood poured from between her fingers along with the gurgle of life’s last breath. And a shot echoed through the night.

Warren looked for the source and saw Oliver pointing a rifle to the sky. He wondered how Lord Walmsley had managed to get a rifle past the magical barrier. Carol’s witchcraft was the only answer. Warren’s gut clenched as he watched the faint outline of his white swan falter and plummet out of sight. “Noooooo,” he screamed and sank to the ground.

Several huge Saxon warriors gathered around Oliver and closed in. The man was divested of his rifle and picked up. They disappeared into the trees with the wailing lord.

Then all was quiet. Milady knelt before Warren and lifted his chin. The area around them was a clearing again. Nicholas and Edmund stood behind her with their arms around each other. “You have succeeded where others failed, Sir Warren of Blake. Every child of my line owes you thanks for the peace in the afterlife you have brought them.”

Warren was shattered. The only words that echoed in his head were,
the afterlife
. He heaved deep breaths to stave off the wave of tears rising up his throat and behind his nose to his eyes. Warren didn’t have the energy to voice what he was thinking. While he was glad he’d reunited Nicholas and Edmund, he wanted to die for the loss of his swan. The way Alex’s beautiful wings clung to his body as he tumbled from the sky.... Warren was sure he was gone. “Alex,” he sobbed, and crumpled to the ground.

Milady closed her eyes. When she spoke again, her speech reverted to that of another age. “Thy love has not joined us. He yet lives.”

Warren choked out a gravelly, “What?”

As Milady repeated her words, Warren took more notice. Dare he hope it be true? He saw Alex fall. His wings didn’t open. But Milady knew things he did not. Warren gazed at her with hope in his eyes.

“Mount thy steed, good Knight, and seek out thy love. I will give thee means to move swift and true.”

Warren scrambled to his feet. As he ran to the trees, he paused. “Is this the last time I’ll see you?”

Milady smiled. “Perchance thou wilt see us again. United with the ones we love, and without evil, we are free to protect that which belongs to us from future ill. We are at peace and happy to be part of the land.”

Warren looked to Nicholas, who was engaged in kissing his knight, then ran to the trees.

He was met on the other side of the clearing by Carl and James, with their horses and Argo. By the time he came to a stop, Warren was back in twenty-first-century clothing. James grabbed Warren’s arm, absolute terror in his eyes. “Alex. I saw Father shoot him.”

Breathlessly, Warren replied, “Alive, according to Milady, but he’s got to be injured.”

“If he could make it, he’ll have headed to the pond.”

“Agreed. I’ll go get him and meet you at the cottage.”

“He’s my brother,” James protested.

“Yes, but your horse is old, and you’re not a good enough rider to go the quick route.” Warren turned to Carl. “Sorry, my friend, but you’re past your bedtime.” For once Carl didn’t protest, and Warren returned his gaze to James. “The best help you can be is prepping for when I get back.” Both Warren’s face and his hand were throbbing. Without his glove, he quickly wrapped the first silk Milady had given him to protect the clotted wound. Carl helped him tie a secure knot.

James didn’t like it, but accepted the reasoning. “Very well.”

Carl handed Warren a pocket flashlight and James passed him his mobile. Warren then hopped onto the rested Argo and took off, two reins in one hand. Not sticking to bridle paths meant that Warren had to navigate several streams and a fair few hedgerows and walls. Sheep protested as they scattered in the short time it took Warren to streak across their fields. As for the cows, several joined him for a moonlight canter. Indeed, Argo was sure and fleet of foot, true to his path and with energy to spare.

Nothing but avoiding obstacles was in Warren’s mind until he hit the valley trail. Puffing, they walked downhill until they reached the pond. Warren flashed the light over to the swan’s roosting spot. He saw nothing.

Warren didn’t care if lounging solstice revellers could be around and called out loud, “Alex. Alex,” while he combed the area with his torch.

He heard a moan and homed in on the sound. At the water’s edge, Alex lay half in, half out of the pond. Warren’s heart leapt to see his love in his human form. Warren was glad Nicholas had spoken the truth when he said that his mother had the means to undo the curse. Perhaps while he was fighting the Black Knight, she uttered incantations. At the end of the day, he didn’t really care about the means; it was the result that mattered: The spell was broken.

Warren rushed to his man, slipping into the water as he reached him. Alex’s arm had blood on it, and from what Warren could see with his light, there was discolouration down his left side. He surmised that Alex had managed to get some sort of control before a less-than-graceful descent into the water.

Occasionally losing his footing at the water’s edge, Warren managed to drag Alex onto firmer, dryer grass. Once there, he removed pondweed and other vegetation from Alex’s hair, hands, and feet. He then rummaged through his pockets for the clean handkerchief he always carried with him, and wet it to wipe the worst of the mud away.

With Alex’s face somewhat cleaner, Warren could see that the same discolouration he’d seen farther down Alex’s body also marred his features. Warren’s heart thumped even more. He gathered Alex to him and tucked them both into his coat. He took a deep, trembling breath and, while his lips stayed connected to Alex’s forehead, Warren silently shed a tear. He wished the dagger that pierced Carol’s throat had done the same to Oliver. Only he wished he’d done the throwing. But more than anything he was overjoyed that Alex was in his arms and breathing. Everything else could be overcome.

“It’s over, Alex. It’s over.” Warren forced the words past the lump in his throat. “Alex! Wake up, sweetheart; it’s me, Warren.” He received a small response. “Please, love. It’s time to go home. Time to wrap you up safe and let me look after you. It’s over now. I’ve got you.” Warren kissed the lids covering the sapphire eyes he desperately wanted to see, and finally the mouth he’d been starved of since Alex changed.

Soon, Warren felt a response and his kiss was faintly returned. Alex weakly walked his fingers around Warren’s waist and nuzzled into his neck. In the dead of night, Warren heard Alex’s whisper. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, love. It’s over. You’re not dreaming. You’re in my arms, on the edge of a pond, and the moon is high in the sky. It’s weird, and it’s wonderful.” It was then that the night’s events hit Warren. “We won, Alex. Holy hell, we won. I feel like Dorothy. The evil witch is dead, and it’s time to go back to Kansas. And you know the best thing?” Warren looked down to see beautiful blue eyes sleepily looking back at him. “I get to go home with you. I love you, Alex.” He sealed his declaration with a sweet kiss.

When they parted, Alex took several slow, careful glances down his body—his human body. “Oh God, it worked.” He flung his arms around Warren, and as they kissed, Warren lowered them to the grass where they lost track of time, reconnecting. No sex was involved. It was pure touch. Everything that could be said was said in the way they kissed and the way they grasped at each other, unwilling to ever be parted again.

Eventually they came up for air. Alex shivered and closed his eyes. “Father winged me.” He looked at the dried blood that streaked his arm.

“I know. Is it bad?”

“At the time I thought so. It doesn’t look like much now, and I can’t feel anything in it. But when the shot hit, it stung like hell, and it dislodged my feathers. I couldn’t use my wing. I knew that unless I did something I’d be skewered on a branch somewhere, so I forced it open. The missing feathers made control difficult, and I didn’t land well in the water.” Alex went silent for a while before, through stuttered breaths, he murmured, “How could he shoot me?”

Warren had no answers. After the events of the night, his brain was fried. He hoped James and Carl would be more able to assist. James would know how his brother felt, and Carl’s brash brand of caring could be just what they needed. Speaking of James and Carl, if they stayed any longer Warren expected an irate search party to arrive. “Let’s not think about that yet. Let’s just get you home.” He moved to rise, but Alex held him there a while longer.

“Home? I’m not sure where that is now.”

“I do: my cottage.” He kissed away Alex’s tears and helped him to his feet, then wrapped him in his coat. Astride Argo, they slowly made their way home.

AFTER THE joust, it took some time for everyone to come to terms with the events and their fallout. Thankfully, Oliver’s aim was marred by age. Alex’s cut was deep, but considering, at the time, he wasn’t supposed to be in the country, Eileen cleaned the wound and butterflied it closed. Warren needed a trip to the hospital, where he blamed the damage on a rake he’d fallen on, whose handle also hit him in the face. The story raised several amused eyebrows around the office.

Once the hospital had been dealt with, much of the next day was spent in silence, each in their own world. Even Carl seemed stumped for words, occasionally exclaiming, “Bloody hell!”

Oliver was discovered in his bed, dead. The coroner’s verdict was a heart attack. All the family members returned to the manor for his funeral, but if James had had his way, there wouldn’t have been one. Regardless, they had to play out the charade.

The service was held in nearby Stow and, according to the papers, a private ceremony was to follow at the family church. The whole village turned out, not so much to pay their respects to the old lord, but to gawk at the family. It was the first time they’d all been together in years, and it turned into quite the reunion.

To save questions being asked, Warren, with his bound hand, stayed in the background with Carl and Eileen, and watched as the stiff British upper lip was played to full force. Not a tear was shed by the siblings for their father.

According to the papers, Lord Oliver Walmsley wished to be cremated prior to being buried in the family crypt next to his wife. Like most things in the papers, the story wasn’t strictly true. James refused to bury the man with his ancestors. It was James who had him cremated; the ashes were dumped in the bin and sent out with the trash.

Alex mainly slept, with Warren never far away and James paying him frequent visits. Regardless of the buildup, the events themselves were tense, exhilarating, and downright scary, and the outcome so unexpected, no one could quite believe it was over. Part of them felt empty and at loose ends, while another part wanted to shout, “Woohoo!”

Eventually, smiles graced their faces, and Warren allowed himself to enjoy the attention associated with being Sir Warren of Blake, Champion and curse-breaker. Neither James nor Alex was able to pass him without giving him a hug. After the mother of all hugs from Carl, and a hearty pat on the back; every day since then, Warren had worn a smile.

At the church, every rose and its roots were removed and burned. In fact, everything inside the church was added to the bonfire, just in case a spell lingered within it. Once that process was complete, the ancestors in Warren’s barn were re-interred in secret. Nicholas, however, was not interred with them. He was taken to the Saxon burial ground and laid to rest with his Edmund and Ebony Air.

According to official sources, Vicar Carol decided to stay abroad. In actuality, her body disappeared without a trace, and the murder of the London pastor remained unsolved.

After the funeral, James became the new lord of the manor and was added to the most-eligible-bachelor list. It was not a list he was destined to stay on for long. Alex officially moved back to the area. To begin with he stayed at the manor, but it wasn’t long before he spent more time at Warren’s than in his ancestral home. Which, of course, meant the villagers had plenty to gossip about. It was a situation that had slowly crept up on Warren and one he’d chosen not to deny. He’d come to the conclusion there was a time and place for everything, and if he was going to spend his life in the village they had to get used to who he was.