The Whispering Night (39 page)

“If you tell him
anything other than the truth about this situation, you can be assured that I
will tell him the story of our flight from Framlingham in a far more impressive
fashion. It will not reflect well on you.”

Good-natured threats
were about. Fergus snickered at her.  “On a serious note, I had a bit of a chat
with Keller down in the bailey. The man opened up surprisingly well after he
got over his envy of me. It seems that he is quite smitten by you and those
children.”

“He’ll get over us.
He’ll have to.”

“That’s a rather cold
attitude, don’t you think?”

She looked puzzled.
“What would you have me say? I was betrothed to the man by force. I have no
feelings for him other than gratitude.”

“Make sure he knows it.
He is risking much to help you.”

The point was taken.
Derica changed the subject. “How are you getting out of here?”

“Keller is going to
lower me over the east wall while you speak with your father. I can escape on
the sea side while the army is occupied.”

Derica’s expression
turned wistful. “I wish I could go with you, but it is better if I don’t.  The
last thing we need is to have the army track you and I back to Cilgarren, and
there is no reason to believe that they won’t. My father won’t be made a fool
of again.”

“You should stay here,
anyway. I shouldn’t like to think of some mishap befalling you as we flee back
to Cilgarren. Leave it to Garren to figure out a way to get you out of here
without risking your life fleeing from your father again.”

“Agreed. Besides, I
cannot leave the children.”

“A noble thought,
especially since I understand how badly you wish to be with your husband.”

Her expression turned
wistful at the thought. “How long will it take you to reach Cilgarren?”

“Unless I find a horse,
it should be at least seven or eight hours. I can run fast, but it is still
several miles away.”

Derica had to be
realistic. “Then let us hope you find a horse so you don’t run yourself to
death before you get there.”

Fergus could only nod in
agreement; he wasn’t keen on running the full thirty miles to Cilgarren.

“Hold off your father as
best you can. Garren will think of something.”

They stood there a
moment, a silence filled with uncertainty.  There was so much to say in this
fragile situation but neither of them knew where to start. Sian left his cart
and horse over the corner, coming to stand beside Derica. He gazed up at
Fergus, the big man with the bright blue eyes. It was the first time the child
had dared to as much as look at him.

“You are a knight?” he
asked Fergus.

Fergus smiled gently. 
“I am, little man.”

From behind his back,
Sian brought out the small wooden sword that Keller had given him. He held it
up for Fergus to see. “I have this.”

Fergus pretended to
examine it. “So I see. A fine weapon,” he said, and Sian lowered it. “What name
do you answer to, little man?”

“Sian,” he child
whispered.

“Sir Sian of the Dark
Woods,” Derica reminded him, smiling.

Sian grinned at her,
embarrassed, pushing his face into her skirt to hide.  Aneirin wandered over,
not wanting to be left out. She, too, had not had the courage to look at the
strange man, but her brother emboldened her.  Fergus studied both of the
children.

“Garren will undoubtedly
feel the loss of the child you carried,” he said quietly, “but I can almost
assure you that these two moppets will help ease his pain. Perhaps they have
been left to you for a reason.”

Derica looked at him,
surprised. “Garren knew about his child?”

“I told him.”

She felt sad, trying not
to dwell on what could not have been helped. “I can hardly wait to hold him
again, Fergus,” she murmured. “When you see him, give him something for me.”

She reached up and
kissed him on the lips, something so soft and sensual that Fergus lost his
balance. But he knew it wasn’t a kiss directed at him; it was full of warmth
and love and longing for Garren. He could feel all of that and more.  It made
his heart pound as he gazed back at her.

“I understand your
meaning perfectly,” he muttered. “But you can wait and give that to him
personally. And I swear that you shall.”

They left the severe
women with the children. With a silence filled with apprehension and
determination, Fergus escorted Derica down to the bailey. There were soldiers
everywhere, prepared for battle, their grim faces set.   Derica tried not to
look any of them in the eye, fearful that they would accuse her of condemning
them to their fate. All of this was because of her. Keller saw her from the
battlements and descended the stairs in the northwest tower down to the ward.

“Your father and two men
are waiting just outside the gates,” he told her, then looked at Fergus.  “One
of my men will lower you over the west wall. He’ll keep watch there for your
return with Sir Garren. ‘Twill be the easiest way in and out of the castle.”

“Excellent,” Fergus
nodded. With the plans solidified, there was nothing more to say and he looked
at Derica. “Good luck to you, my lady.”

“And to you, Fergus.”

One of Keller’s knights
went off with him, moving to the eastern wall with plans to carryout. Keller,
with a deep sigh he hoped she didn’t see, held out his hand. It would probably
be the last time he would be able to do so.  When she put her warm palm in his,
he stole a split second to enjoy a feeling that would very quickly leave him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she replied.

He took her to the outer
concentric wall facing east. The de Rosa army lay beyond, like locusts on the
land. It would have been foolish to open the gates and lower the drawbridge,
even during the course of a negotiation. It left Pembroke too vulnerable. He
continued to hold her hand until they reached the top of the battlements of the
great gatehouse. Nervous, feeling slightly ill, Derica looked to the ground
below.

In the dusk, she could
see her father, her Uncle Lon and her Uncle Alger. They were atop their
chargers, clad in colors of Norfolk. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she had missed them.  Keller
stood there, watching her, waiting for her to summon both courage and
composure.

“I am here, Father,”
Derica called from above.

Three helmed heads
snapped up.  Bertram removed his helm, his face as naked with emotion as Derica
had ever seen. It took all of her self-control to keep from turning
sentimental.

“Derica,” her father
drank in the sight of her. “So you truly are here. Though we had hoped, I did
not truly believe.”

“Aglette told me of your
demands.”

“I only wish you home
and safe, daughter.”

“I am home and I am
safe. You must understand that I have no wish to return to Framlingham with
you. I have my own life now.”

Bertram was quiet a
moment, reflecting on what he was going to say next.  The conversation was
moving faster than he’d hoped; it had been his wish to move slower, to play on
her sentiment, before moving forward with demands. But the Derica that faced
him was unwilling to entertain even the slightest pleasantries. He had to admit
that he was not surprised.

“I know that le Mon is
dead,” he said. “I also know that William Marshall plans to marry you off to
some knight, someone I know nothing of. At least I knew something of le Mon.”

“You knew something of
him, yet you showed him as little respect as you would the lowliest serf.”
Derica could feel herself harden. “How dare you show so little regard for the
man I loved.”

“It is my duty to
protect you. I believe I was attempting to do that.”

“As you can see, I do
not need protecting. I am safe, healthy and reasonably content.  Garren took
the best of care of me, and my future husband is continuing the tradition. It
is my wish that you return to Framlingham and leave me to my new life.”

Bertram’s stubborn
streak, seen so strongly in his daughter, came forth. “I can promise you a
wonderful life at Framlingham. Norfolk has graciously arranged a betrothal that
will promise you comfort and security the rest of your life. I have met and
approve of this man.”

Derica thought it ironic
that she had more than her share of betrothals now that Garren was presumed
dead. “Who is he? A mercenary with plenty of money and no political
connections?”

“The nephew of the Duke
of Savoy, Alessandro Donatello Ettore di Savoy.  He is very wealthy and
well-connected in Rome.”

Derica was silent a
moment. When she finally spoke, it was with bitterness.

“You do not want me to
marry a man of my choosing, but a man of your choosing so that you may save
your foolish pride.” She shook her head, sadly. “Go home, Father. Go home and
forget you ever had a daughter.”

“Derica, please,” her
father pleaded. “I only desire what is best for you, truly. By running away
with le Mon, you severely limited your choices of a mate. Savoy is an excellent
match and willing to overlook your female indiscretions.”

“Go home,” Derica
exploded at him. “I have no desire to be swept under the rug because you are
ashamed of me. If I had it to do over again a thousand times, I would do it the
same way every single time.  Nothing you can say will change how I feel about
Garren.”

“You’re tired. You have
been running too long, without the comforts of home and family. I can forgive
your mistake, but I cannot forgive blind stupidity. Come home with me now,
please, before any more damage is done.”

It was like talking to a
wall. “I realize this is foreign to your thinking and God forgive me to saying
this to you, but this is a battle you have lost, Father. With all of your
wealth and strength, you could not win against me or against Garren. You must
understand that.”

“Derica, listen to me.
I…”

Derica didn’t hear the
end of the conversation; she had turned away from the wall, in tears and anger.
Keller chipped off commands to his sergeant before following her.  He took hold
of her elbow, helping her down the stairs so that she would not trip in her
heavy gown.  When they reached the bottom, she was wiping her face, struggling
to regain her composure.

“I fear I have put
Pembroke in a bad situation,” she apologized. “My father will lay siege, of
that I am sure.  If you want to lower me over the west side and let me take my
chances, then I understand.”

Keller watched her,
every gesture, and every move like fluid poetry. She was graceful and ladylike
even in turmoil.

“’Tis been a while since
I have tasted battle with the English,” he said. “Let your father attack if he
wants to. Frankly, when the Welsh catch wind of a battle, it may very well
anger them and your father could find himself fighting on two fronts. I will
wager your father is in a good deal more danger than Pembroke is. We can hold
out.”

He sounded so sure.
Derica was moved by his chivalry. “You are a good man, Keller. I want you to
know that if Garren was not alive, then I should have been very proud to be
your wife.”

“Then never have I been
more tempted to commit murder.”             

He meant it as a joke.
Derica smiled at his attempt, worried over the fate of Pembroke and praying
that Fergus would reach Garren to deliver the news. So much could happen to
ruin all she hoped for. Keller sensed her distress and took her by the elbow.

“Come,” he said softly.
“I would have you retreat to the keep so that I may accept your father’s
invitation to dance.”

“Invitation to dance?”

“Battle is like a dance,
carefully planned, carefully executed. It all depends on who will lead and who
will follow.”

She thought on that. “An
interesting comparison. I have been around knights my entire life and have
never heard it put quite that way.”

He took her to the steps
of the keep. “There is one thing your father doesn’t know about my dancing
skills, however.”

“What is that?”

 His expression took on
a shadow of dark determination. “I can trip a partner in that careful
choreography. He’ll hit the ground and lay there, dazed and vulnerable, before
He is even realized He is fallen.”

Derica hesitated.
“Keller,” she said softly. “This is my father. I do not wish him… killed if it
can be helped. I just want him to go away.”

“I understand and shall
do my best to accommodate your wishes.”

She smiled in thanks.
With nothing more to say to a man she was deeply grateful to, she impulsively
leaned over to kiss him gently on the cheek.  Keller grasped her face before
she could pull away and covered her mouth with his own, overwhelming her with
his power and desire for a flash of a moment. When he released her, it was as
quickly as he had taken her. Derica stumbled back, her eyes wide at him. Keller
looked equally surprised but managed to shrug weakly.