Carolyne Cathey (36 page)

Sir Jerrod pulled
her to him and stroked her hair as a father might a distraught child. 
"Ah, lass.  Don't do this.  I know 'tis painful, but I must take you back
to the convent.  We will leave now.  My steed is saddled and awaits us in the
bailey."

Eleanor pushed at
his chest and pressed her hands over her abdomen in a protective gesture, not
wanting her unborn child to hear the horrid words being flung about and thus be
frightened.  "Nay!  I won't go to the convent!  I escaped from there to
come here.  I know not what the nuns might do to me should I return."

Kyle stepped out
of the deepening shadows and his unexpected appearance startled from her a cry
of surprise.  He loomed so near she felt his heat, then he stroked his warm
hands down her arms and grasped her icy fingers.  "Never fear about your
treatment at the convent, love.  I have provided funds for you to enter the
nunnery as a lady, not as a servant, and they dare not ill-use you or they will
feel my wrath until the second coming.  Now, the day grows late and you must be
away.  The longer the delay, the more certain the danger."

Hopelessness
shoved tears to her eyes.  "Please listen to me, my lord.  Sir Jerrod has
explained to me your fear about All Hallows Eve.  Nay, don't be angry with him,
my lord.  I request your protection here at Trystonwood.  As brave as Sir
Jerrod is, he cannot defend me against Brigham's armed mercenaries.  And you
cannot afford for your knights to escort me.  You need them here, and you need
Jerrod as well.  Many lives depend upon your strength of arms."

"Nay,
Eleanor.  You must leave before the sky darkens another shade."

'But my
lord--"

"And before
you have a chance to interfere in my plans."

Eleanor fell
silent for several heartbeats.  "Interfere, my lord?"

Sir Jerrod
groaned and placed his head in the cradle of his hands, but Kyle merely
shrugged.

"You think I
don't know what you intend, Eleanor?  Do you believe me such a dolt I couldn't
fathom what flitted through the clear emeralds that are your eyes?"

Eleanor could
only stare at him as she grasped for more persuasive logic, for so far all her
frantic efforts had failed.

Sir Jerrod leaned
back against the wall and rubbed at his chin.  "Her argument has merit,
Kyle.  Perhaps she might--"

"Cease,
Jerrod!  You know how strongly I feel about this."

"Listen, friend,
I have already promised to protect Eleanor should aught happen to your lordly
body, so mayhaps we shouldn't be so hasty about whisking her away.  An answer
to this dilemma might yet prevail."

Stunned that Sir
Jerrod fought her cause, Eleanor held her breath in wait for Kyle's response.

Kyle nodded to
Sir Jerrod as if with controlled irritation.  "Aye.  In fact I have a
remarkable solution to the problem.  When the king commands me to marry
Mellisande, I'll tell him
you
beg for her hand."

Sir Jerrod paled. 
"You wouldn't."

"Aye.  Not
only I would, I will."

"As long as
'tis only the hand I get.  You may have the rest."

"'Tis not a
time for jest, Jerrod!  I won't be swayed."

Sir Jerrod sighed
as if in resignation and pushed away from the wall.  "Then to avoid a
surplus of unwanted body parts, I'd say 'tis time to leave for the
convent." 

Panic clawed up
her spine as she realized she would not dissuade Kyle, then a loud crack split
the air behind her.

She turned to see
what had made the sound, but her feet left the ground as Kyle wrapped his arms
around her waist and swung her sideways.  A large boulder tumbled from atop the
stack toward where she had stood but an eye-blink before.  The deadly missile
bounced and hurtled toward Sir Jerrod who stood trapped between crushing rock
and the stone wall.  She saw the shock in his eyes as he scrambled backward,
then he turned and leapt onto the parapet.  The stone slammed against the
embrasure, jolting Sir Jerrod from his too-narrow perch. 

Before a cry left
her throat, Kyle released her and lunged for the wall, but Sir Jerrod flailed
his arms, tumbling off the edge.

Eleanor screamed
in horror as Kyle threw his body over the top in a desperate attempt to save
his friend.  Horrified, she rushed and peered over the parapet, then knew not
whether to cry with relief or terror.

Sir Jerrod
dangled like a slaughtered chicken ensnared in Kyle's hands, his cote over his
head, his braies exposed.

"You saved
him, my lord!"  She reached out to grasp Kyle's arm, then halted for fear
he might loosen his grip.  "I'll call for aid."

"Give me
your word you will go to the convent, and I will pull up Jerrod." 
Incredulous, she stared at Kyle, mouth agape.  "You use Sir Jerrod's life
as a threat to force me to do your will?"

"Kyle!  The
sight of a topsy-turvy world makes me ill and I grow faint!"

'Your word,
Eleanor."

"You would
never allow harm to--"

She stilled as
she heard a sound like thunder in the distance, but no storm loomed.  And yet,
an ominous rumble shook the air, a sinister vibration.

Eleanor shifted
her focus.

Clouds of dust
boiled to the North.  A long line of movement snaked to beyond the curve of the
road.

An army. 

Kyle locked onto
the sight, his face as pale as chalk.  "Satan's curse.  The king."

T
he king
. 

The frightening
words spun in Eleanor's mind as Kyle pulled Sir Jerrod back over the wall like
an over-grown fish. 

Men shouted a
warning from the watch tower.  Women screamed and scattered like startled
geese.  And all the while, the ground rumbled, dust billowed to stain the
blood-streaked sky, the armored snake slithered a longer trail. 

Eleanor gripped
the wall.  Were they at war?  Nay, night crept over the edge of the world and
King Edward wouldn't attack in the dark.  Or would he?

Pennants
fluttered atop long spears.  One seemed an eagle, or a falcon . . . she
couldn't tell in the reddish sunset.  The other, the one at the front of the
line, a . . . a beast of some kind, with a tail and . . . 

A dragon
.

Eleanor's legs
weakened.  A sting in her fingers drew her attention to her hands.  She
released the stones and stared.  She had gripped too hard and cut her flesh.

Sir Jerrod sat on
the embrasure, his hand on his brow as if dizzy.  "In trying to save my
life, I almost lost it.  'Twas quick action, Kyle.  You were so riled I'm
surprised you made the effort."

"In spite of
your interference, Jerrod, you're still my best friend."

"My word! 
Then I'm glad I'm me."  Sir Jerrod shook his head as if to shift the blood
from his brain.

Kyle darted a
glance to the oncoming army, then he whirled and strode toward the stairs.  As
he passed Eleanor, he grasped her wrist and yanked her to a run.  Her wrist
throbbed beneath Kyle's clamped fingers as she stumbled behind him down the
stairs and across the bailey. 

"Lord Kyle? 
Does the king wage war?"

"Nay.  'Tis
not his purpose.  At least, not yet."

"Is his
pennant a dragon?"

Kyle hesitated a
step as if jolted by the reminder of the beast in his nightmares.  "I
thought the same when I first saw the banner.  'Tis a leopard." 

"The other
pennant?"

"Lord
Hanley's."

So Lord Hanley
had told the king.  And now they rode as one force. 

Kyle renewed his
pace and Eleanor ran to keep up with his strides as he pulled her through the
scramble of knights and servants who hurriedly prepared for arrival of a large
armed force, an armed force that outnumbered Kyle's many times over.

Eleanor's fears
built with as much rapidity as the nearing thunder of hooves.  "But the
king didn't send a herald of his arrival."

"He wanted
to catch us unawares."  Kyle stepped into the entry.  "He
succeeded."

As Kyle pulled
her through the great hall, her gaze flew to the center hearth burning like the
flames of hell, like the inferno of a village ablaze, like a witch's stake. 
Trepidation slid over her flesh. 

Kyle paused at
the dais, his hands on her arms in a hold so firm she felt his tremble, sensed
his apprehension.  "Eleanor, for once do as I command.  Go to my chamber. 
Hide there.  Don't leave for any reason."

"Do you
think Brigham will be among their forces?"

"Nay.  That
viper will stay hidden 'neath Hanley's rock of protection.  'Tis the king who
mustn't see you, at least until I catch the drift of his mood--charming, or
ruthless."  He pierced her with his worried gaze.  "Eleanor, please
understand.  I must approach the king privately about the wager.  If he sees
you and the subject becomes public, then he'll feel compelled to judge in
public, and if so, there is only one choice he can make.  Like his example with
Prince Davydd of Wales, King Edward would be brutal in order to quell any
further thoughts of flaunting tradition.  The only way I can protect you is for
you to remain in my chamber with the door bolted.  I'll send knights to guard
the door."

"Shall I
change into peasant clothes?"

Agony creased his
face.  "Nay, stay dressed as you are.  'Tis a reverie for me to dwell
upon, for no matter the outcome, within my heart, you are my lady." 

Fearing the fates
would rip them apart like two halves never again whole, she absorbed the feel
of him as she stroked her fingertips down the curve of his cheek to the
strength of his jaw.  He leaned into her hand, then pressed his lips against
her palm, branding her forever as his, no matter their future.

Shouts sifted
from the bailey.  The clatter of an arriving company reverberated within the
walls.

Kyle tensed, his
expression urgent as he entwined his fingers with hers and placed them over his
heart.  But his knight's armor barred her from the beat like his knight's
status barred her from his life.  "I'll come to you as soon as I can,
love, but 'twill be late."  He paused as if he wanted to say more, then he
turned, but halted.  His hand shook as he raked his fingers through his hair,
and the sight terrorized her to her toes. 

"If aught
should happen to me, Eleanor. . . if the king orders my . . . my arrest . .
."

A weak cry
escaped before her heart leapt into her throat.

He spun to her
and she saw the resolve in his eyes.  "You know of the secret exit and . .
. and I've already arranged with Jerrod to swift you to safety."

Realization
jolted through her like a sharp arrow, quick and painful.  "I erred.  You
plan to defy the king no matter his command.  Nay, Kyle, you must not!"

He paid no heed
but instead seared her with a studied look as if to memorize her face, her
every feature--for the last time.

"Kyle, I plead
with you to understand.  I will lose you either way.  Nay, I rather you would
live and wed another than to . . ."   The word, die, caught in her throat.

Kyle groaned and
pulled her against his mail-clad body, burning her lips with his, his kiss
desperate as if final, forever, to last throughout eternity.  "Now,
go."  He whispered the command.  And the softness tore at her composure.

Before she could
protest, he spun from her and strode toward the entry.

All her past
noble efforts to convince Kyle not to tell the king about the wager had only
hardened his resolve.  And now he intended to defy his liege lord no matter
King Edward's decision.  Kyle sought to protect her, but in truth, she must
protect him. 

Still feeling the
touch of his lips, the press of his body, the agony of his heart, she swept a
last glance at the great hall, then at the solar as she hurried through, making
certain all looked in readiness for the king.  She took a step up the spiral
stairs.  Apprehension pulled the breath from her lungs.  She moved a step
higher and peered up at the torch-lit landing, not certain what she expected to
see, but feeling as if death panted in anticipation.

"Milady?"

Startled, Eleanor
spun at the sound of Jane's frantic voice and saw the fear in her eyes, a fear
that increased her own.  "Is something amiss, Jane?"

"Tis Nurse
Kincaid.  She had a fright of some kind, but afore she could tell Peter, she
swooned."  Jane took Eleanor's arm and urged her toward the great hall. 
"Please, milady, ye must come quick.  Me thinks she's . . . she's . .
dyin'."  Jane released her hold and burst into tears.

Eleanor's already
unsteady heart cramped as she wondered what she should do.  She had promised
Kyle.  He risked all to honor a vow.  Dare she break hers within moments?  Dare
she let Nurse die while she hid like a coward?  Jane's sobs wrenched at
Eleanor's guilt.  In truth, she had no choice.  She would merely take care and
remain inconspicuous.  Eleanor released a shaky sigh.  "Where is
she?"

"The new
cottage."

Eleanor nodded. 
"Fetch Lord Kyle's robes from where they are being aired and take them to
him.  He must look his best.  I'll take care of Nurse."

Jane curtsied as
she swiped at her tears.  "Oh, thank ye, milady.  'Tis grand of ye."

Loud conversation
drifted into the solar as knights flowed into the great hall.  Eleanor knew she
must act quickly or be caught.  As Jane rushed into the hall, Eleanor slipped
to the side solar door and peered into the garden.

Grateful for the
approaching night, she prayed for invisibility and ran through the dark to
beside the blacksmith's, intending to slip around behind the building and along
the wall to the cottage. 

Horses and men
stamped and jostled for every inch of ground.  She wondered if King Edward
stood among the throng in the yellow glow cast by the forge.  Some steed must
have thrown a shoe, or perhaps a knight sought the repair of his sword, for the
smith's hammer rang amidst the voices and whinnies and snarling of dogs.

Then Eleanor
halted, caught by the sight through the crowd of John on his knees too near the
unsettled animals.  Dear heaven.  If not careful he would be trampled beneath
the hooves.  John peered through the tangle of legs of horses and men as if he
searched for something, then terror showed on his face.  "King Edward! 
King Edward!"  John darted between two large stallions and into the
dangerous melee. 

"Did someone
call my name?"

Eleanor's stomach
crumpled into a tight ball as she heard what surely must have been the king's
response to John's shout.  Then she saw the pup amidst the hooves and knew John
risked his own life to save the hound.  Dogs broke out into a fight over the
pup.  A stallion reared, and then another.  Hooves slashed the air, then John
tripped and fell.  Without thought, Eleanor lunged past the huge beasts and
yanked John from where the hooves jarred the earth a heartbeat later.

"But King
Edward, milady!  He'll be killed."

"Did someone
say something about killing me?  Kyle what is this?  A trap?"

"Nay, my
lord.  The voice sounded like John's, a young servant."

Terrified by the
crush of animals and by the king's dangerous misunderstanding, Eleanor held
John to her side and reached for the dog, but a horse sidestepped and slammed her
against the side of another steed.  She expected crushed feet, but the horses
moved away from each other long enough for her to snatch the dog from between
two snarling dogs and run for the shadows.  Her heart pounded against her ribs
as she gave John the pup and dragged him past the corner, but John jerked from
her grasp as if someone had caught his arm.

"Is this the
one, Kyle?  Did you say I'll be killed, lad?"

Eleanor sank back
into the shadows, her pulse in a wild rampage.

"Nay, 'twas
the dog, yer grace."

"The
dog?"

"The pup,
milord.  His name is King Edward.  I was afeard he'd be trampled."  John's
voice trembled as much as Eleanor's legs as he stood at the corner, the king
and Kyle past her view.  Praying John wouldn't mention her name, Eleanor struggled
to cease her ragged pants and became as still as the stones at her back.

"You named
the dog after your king?  An insult!  What is the meaning of this Kyle?  How
dare you allow such an effrontery."

"In truth,
'tis an honor, your grace.  'Tis a winsome pup."

"Winsome? 
You think me winsome?"

 Laughter broke
out, then immediate silence, as if the king saw not the humor in the
situation. 

"Come,
Kyle.  We have a serious matter to discuss.  A matter of loyalty."

Eleanor's heart
dropped to her toes.  Fearing for Kyle but knowing if she were detected she
increased the danger, Eleanor slipped along the shadows to the curtain wall,
then along the back of the building.  What a disastrous beginning. 

Alarm at the
danger that Kyle faced forced bile to her throat as she ran from shadow to
shadow.  She reached the candle-lit cottage and rushed through the doorway and
across the earthen floor to where Peter stood at the side of the bed.  She
shook so much she could barely stand, but she must trust Kyle to calm the king
while she cared for Nurse.  "What happened, Peter?"

"I'm not
certain, milady.  But when all were shoutin' about the king as he was ridin'
down the road, she came runnin' to me, and she was all white lookin' and was
afeard actin' like she wanted to warn me of somethin' . . . " He swallowed
as if to drown the tremor in his voice.  "But then she clutched at her
chest and swooned."

Dread slithered
up Eleanor's flesh like doom from a cold grave.  "Warn you?  Might she
have misunderstood the king's arrival and feared war?"

Peter shrugged. 
Wetness glimmered on his lashes and enlarged the cramp in her chest.  She
studied Nurse's ashen face as she lay stretched out on the bed like she had
already breathed her last.  Not only had the woman befriended Eleanor, but Kyle
loved her like a mother.  Eleanor would not let her die.

Although she
fought to appear calm as she fumbled in the woman's basket of clay jars and
sniffed to determine the contents, her mind pulled in two directions, Nurse,
and Kyle.  She found nothing in the jars that looked like digitalis, so she
mixed Elixir of Roses--good for the brain but caused headaches--with camphor to
neutralize the danger.  While the noise in the bailey lessened, Eleanor wafted
the blend under Nurse's nose, wondering what had alarmed the woman, wondering
what transpired in the great hall, wondering if her future already lay decided.

After Eleanor had
exhausted every ministration she knew, with no results, she pushed to her feet
and moved to the window in hopes a cleansing breath would ease her tight
lungs.  Not even a moon lit the now-quiet bailey.  A brisk breeze caressed her
face as she lifted her gaze to the black velvet of a sky.  Stars glittered like
scattered firesparks in the inky firmament.  If she but dared to reach, she
might touch . . . 

Firesparks. 
Against black.

Apprehension
shuddered up her spine and tingled her nape.

A loud flap of
fabric in the breeze drew her attention to the banner that streamed and
fluttered above the tower.  A cross pulsed white-hot, against black.