Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (23 page)

Her mood relented somewhat and
she put her hands on his cheeks as he kissed her face. “I am sorry I disobeyed
you,” she murmured. “I never wish to upset you. But if my disobedience can save
your life, I will gladly make that choice every time.”

He stopped kissing her long
enough to fix her in the eye. He sighed heavily. “We are never going to agree
on this subject.”

“I fear not.”

“You are a stubborn wench.”

She lifted her shoulders with a
resigned flair. “I am Scots.”

He pursed his lips as he shook
his head. “Scots has nothing to do with it. You are a woman; that is reason
enough.”

A twinkle of mirth came to her
eye and the hands on his cheeks pinched them gently. “I am a woman in love who
would do anything to keep you safe,” the mirth from her eyes fading as she
gazed into his cornflower blue orbs. “Please remember that, Stephen. Everything
I do, I do because I love you and would do anything to ensure we have a long
and happy life together.”

He nodded in resignation, kissing
the tip of her nose again as he gently released her. “I know,” he reached over
for the breast plate propped against the wall. “Let us not delve into that
subject again. Help me finish with this. The sooner I take the wall, he sooner
I will return to you.”

She watched him as he donned the
remainder of his armor, not at all sure that he truly understood her position. 
More and more, she knew what she needed to do. She needed to help end this
conflict because every time her husband took the wall or went on patrol, the
chance of his death was magnified. Every time he returned to her whole, she
considered it a stroke of good luck. She feared that the luck would not hold
out indefinitely.  With every second that passed, she felt more and more
strongly that she must protect him. She had to do something.

Stephen noticed that she would
not look him in the eye as she finished helping him with his armor. He
attributed it to the fact that she was upset with the events of the evening. 
When she finally finished securing the last strap on his torso armor, he put a
finger on her sternum. When she looked down to see what he was doing, his
finger came up and bopped her gently on the nose.  Rubbing her nose, she looked
up at him only to see that he was grinning at her.  Reluctantly, she grinned
back.

“You will stay here where I know
you are safe,” he put his big hands on her upper arms. “Lock the door after I
leave. Is that clear?”

“Aye,” she nodded as she stopped
rubbing her nose. “But I was hoping to check on the fawn.”

He shook his head. “I am sure the
fawn is safe and fed in the kitchens where you last left him,” he told her. “If
it will make you feel better, I shall go and check on him myself.”

She agreed. “Thank you.”

He winked at her, bending down to
kiss her sweetly on the lips.  Joselyn threw her arms around his neck and met
his kiss passionately, to which Stephen quickly succumbed.  Hungrily, they
licked and suckled at each other until he finally groaned and pulled away.

“Any more of that and I shall
never make it to my post,” he growled, although he stole one last kiss.  “I
shall return.”

She nodded, gazing up at him with
her pale blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips.  She looked quite demure and obedient
as he picked up his helm and winked at her again as he quit the chamber. 
Dutifully, she bolted it after he left.  She purposely bolted it loudly so he
would hear it and then she leaned against the door, her ear pressed to the wood
as she listened to his footfalls fade.

Moving to the lancet window, she
peered outside to the portion of the bailey she could see from her vantage
point and was rewarded by the sight of her massive husband as he crossed the
bailey towards the kitchens. Just watching him walk made her feel warm and
giddy; the man’s stride was confident and powerful.  Every moment that passed
saw her love him that much more. And she had to protect that love at any cost.
She only hoped he could forgive her for her necessary deception.

Quickly, she went to work. 
Stripping off her surcoat, she dressed in one of her newer surcoats, the dark
blue with the long, belled sleeves.  The dark color would blend well into the
night. She dressed warmly, finally wrapping herself in the dusty Seton tartan. 
All the while, she planned in her mind over and over what she was to do, where
she was to go.  Kynan had told her to head south on the main road towards the
cemetery; she knew the area.  She was to seek the priest at the church near the
cemetery.

Joselyn was smart enough to wait
until the changing of the guards to make her move and slip through the postern
gate leading to the river.  Wrapped in the dark tartan, the guards never saw
her in the shadows under the silver moon.   Like a night wraith, she slipped
along the wall and into the river, making her way down the river in shoulder-deep
water until coming ashore about a half mile down river.

Wet, cold, she persevered on
towards the main road leading out of town.

***

The fawn was fat, warm and happy
in the corner of the kitchen where Mereld and Tilda had been feeding the little
thing.   It bleated at him and attempted to suckle his fingers when he tried to
pet it. Leaving his wife’s very spoiled pet to its happy corner, Stephen made
his way across the darkened bailey towards the gatehouse, the massive structure
lit by torches against the night sky.  As Stephen drew close, he came across de
Lara emerging from the warm and stuffy great hall.  Stephen came to a halt as
Tate caught up to him.

“So,” Stephen said with a twinkle
in his eye. “Have you recovered from your brush with death?”

Tate grinned wearily. “Damnable
Scots,” he grumbled. “It simply underscores my need to return home.”

Stephen grunted. “When are you
leaving?”

“At dawn,” Tate replied. “But I
am not heading straight home. I intend to take a detour to Earl of Buccleuch.”

Stephen sobered. “Thank you,” he
said softly. “Will you escort the lad back to Berwick?”

“I thought I would.”

“Will your wife wait that much
longer for you to return home?”

Tate made a pensive and
apprehensive face, as men do who fear the reaction of a woman. “She will have
to. A few more days will not make much difference in the end.”

“Perhaps,” Stephen lifted an
eyebrow. “But if she turns her anger on me since this is an errand on my
behalf, know that I intend to point all necessary fingers back at you. I do not
want to suffer the wrath of Lady de Lara.”

Tate shook his head. “Coward,” he
muttered, scratching his chin as he sobered. “About the boy; how much do you
want me to tell him?”

Stephen shrugged faintly. “I am
not entirely sure,” he said. “You have four young boys.  I would solicit your
advice on the subject.”

Tate exhaled wearily, gazing up
at the stars. “I can tell him the purpose of returning to Berwick to soften the
blow,” he looked at Stephen. “Or I can simply wait and let you tell him. You
will be the boy’s father, after all. It might be best coming from you.”

“But he will have more time to
understand and accept the situation if you tell him,” Stephen countered
thoughtfully, crossing his big arms and kicking at the dirt beneath is feet.
“Perhaps Joselyn should tell him. She is his mother, after all.”

“That is more than likely the
best option.”

“Agreed.”

Before Tate could continue the
conversation, Lane appeared out of the darkness. Stephen did not like the look
on the man’s face as he approached.

“What is it?” he asked before
Lane could speak.

Lane didn’t look particularly
eager to tell him but knew there was little choice. “I was seeing to the
changing of the guard about the hall, keep and bailey,” he explained quickly.
“With the guard changing in the keep, I happened to see one of your wife’s
women as she was leaving your chamber.  When I asked if her mistress was
settled for the night, the woman faltered. There was something in her
expression, my lord, that made me suspect all was not as it should be.  So I….”

Stephen’s jaw flexed dangerously
and he was already moving towards the keep. “To the point, de Norville.”

Lane and Tate began to run after
him. “Your wife is not in her room, my lord,” Lane almost shouted at him and
Stephen came to an abrupt halt. His cornflower blue eyes blazed at the
sergeant, who continued rapidly and succinctly. “I have already sent men to get
horses. We sighted your wife from the postern gate about a quarter of a mile
down river.”

“What?” Stephen exploded,
incredulous. “Are you sure?”

“Aye, my lord,” Lane replied,
feeling as if he had grossly failed in his newly appointed post. “The old
serving woman confirmed as much.”

“Damnation,” Stephen spat in an
uncharacteristic display of emotion as he whirled for the stables. “Did you ask
the woman where my wife was going?”

“Nay,” Lane replied quickly as
they rounded the corner of the hall and headed to the stables that smelled
strongly of hay and dung. “I thought it more important to find you and tell you
that your wife has left the castle. There will be time enough for interrogation
when we recover her.”

By the time they reached the
stables, several soldiers were already emerging with their mounts.  Two grooms
were saddling the chargers and in little time, Stephen was mounted and with a
contingent of a dozen armed men, they roared from the open gates of Berwick and
out into the deepening night. 

Stephen couldn’t even imagine
where Joselyn was going. He struggled to stay on even keel because something
deep inside him couldn’t fathom the worst.  He felt sick to his stomach as her
last words to him suddenly made some sense; 
everything I do, I do because I
love you and would do anything to ensure we have a long and happy life together
. 
He couldn’t imagine what the foolish woman was up to.

He had to find her.

CHAPTER TEN

In her river-wet garments,
Joselyn was extremely cold.  The night was not particularly chilly but the wet
wool was clinging to her skin, rendering her shaky and cold.  However, walking
briskly was heating her up, creating an odd body temperature.  In the recesses
of her mind she knew she would become ill from all of this, but it didn’t
matter. She had to find the old churchyard on the edge of town.  It was her own
personal mission.

So she trudged down the road,
trying to stay to the edge where hedgerows grew so that she could stay out of
sight. She only hoped she could make it back to the castle before Stephen
discovered her missing, but somehow, she knew that he would find out.  The man
was as sharp as a knife, his mind and intellect, and as she half-ran and
half-walked down the road, she began to wonder if this undertaking had been at
all wise.  If Stephen discovered her missing, she would have to come up with a
plausible explanation as to why she had left. She could not tell him the truth
because it would only bring about her fear of him rousting the rebels himself
and possibly getting himself killed in the process. So she had to think of
another explanation, a lie that would save her husband’s life.

The road was empty due to the
many battles that had rattled the area for the past several weeks.  Joselyn
walked past several homes and businesses that were ruined.   The sight of the
burned-out structures distressed her but she pushed onward, her focus on the church
that was not too far off.  The darkness around her buzzed with night birds and
foraging creatures as she picked up the pace; she had no time to lose.

Eventually, the hedgerow of heavy
bushes disappeared and she could see the church off to her right in the
distance, outlined against the dark sky.  There were no lights apparent; the
structure appeared dark and ghostly.   She slowed her pace as she drew closer,
keeping out of sight as much as she could.  Her sight was fixed on the stone
building in the distance. She paused completely, watching the church to see if
there were any signs of life. There was none. After several long minutes of
waiting and watching, she carefully moved on.

As she stepped out of the shadow
of the edge of the hedgerow and began to cross the dark field that separated
her from the church, the thunder of hooves sudden approached from behind.
Startled, she could see several soldiers heading towards her from the road and
she bolted in the opposite direction, racing towards the church.  But another
group of horses abruptly came at her from the other side of the hedgerow,
cutting off her flight.  Very shortly, she was trapped.

Terrified, Joselyn clutched the
tartan around her as big men on horseback surrounded her. It was a dark night
and it was difficult to tell immediately if the men were Scots or English.   It
was chaotic, dark, and the horses were snapping.  She instinctively recoiled. 
But one of the men dismounted and even in the darkness, she realized that she
knew the man. There was no mistaking the size of her husband and her heart sank
at the sight. Somehow, someway, he had found her.  Her mission to save him was
over before it began.