Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (31 page)

“Nay.”

“And you let me leave to retrieve
the child without telling me?” There was disapproval in Tate’s voice. “I told
you that she should be the one to make the final decision. Perhaps she does not
want the boy here, reminding her of a most heinous and violent crime against
her.”

Stephen put up his hands in
supplication. “I told you that she has been too ill to discuss it. I will tell
her tonight; this moment, in fact. But I told you before; I strongly believe
that her maternal instincts will erase any fear or horror she might feel. He is
her son, Tate; she will want him with her.”

Tate just growled and shook his
head. He made a move towards the food-laden table, but not before he jabbed a
finger at Stephen. “Tell her now,” he rumbled. “And when I am finished eating,
I am returning to Forestburn and my own wife who, by the way, is probably
already on her way here to drag me home by the ear. And if she is, I will
expect you to defend me since the only reason I am still here is because you
sent me on a fool’s errand.”

He was speaking angrily, although
it was without force. He was exhausted more than anything else and Stephen knew
it. But he had a point. He followed Tate to the table, watching the man grab a
massive hunk of herbed bread and tear into it.

“I need to speak to you about
your return to Forestburn, in fact,” he said quietly.

Tate just rolled his eyes. “Leave
me in peace, Pembury. For a few bloody minutes, just leave me in peace and let
me eat.”

Stephen fought off a grin,
watching Tate try to ignore him. “I have another favor to ask of you.”

“I am going to take my sword and
drive it into your gut if you do not leave me alone.”

“Wait until you hear me out
before drawing your sword, please.”

“Good God,” Tate snarled. “What
is it, then, and be quick about it.”

Stephen didn’t say anything for a
moment; he stood there, trying to force the words out, but it was an extremely
difficult struggle. He didn’t want to say them. But he knew he had to.

“I want you to take Joselyn with
you when you leave,” he said quietly. “I want her out of Berwick.”

Tate stopped chewing and looked
at him. “Why?”

Stephen inhaled slowly, wearily.
“Because Ken seems to think that the Scots are building up to a major attack. 
He interrogated Joselyn’s cousin earlier today and based on the man’s
information, Ken feels that the lack of recent activity means the Scots are
preparing for something big.  If that is true, then I do not want Joselyn
within these walls. I want her safe.”

Tate swallowed the bite in his
mouth. “And what do you feel, as the Guardian Protector?”

Stephen lifted an eyebrow,
slowly.  “I cannot say that I am in complete agreement, but the lack of
activity, any at all, is troubling.”

“Ken has never been an alarmist.”

“I know; which is why I am taking
his advice regardless of how I feel. Perhaps he is sensing something I am not.”

Tate took another bite of bread.
“If that is true, then I should not leave. I should remain here with you.”

Stephen shook his head. “We are
expecting reinforcements from Henry of Lancaster any day now,” he countered.
“It is not necessary for you to stay.”

Tate fell silent as he swallowed
his bread and delved into a big beef knuckle. “You know,” he said casually, “it
has been a long time since you and Ken and I have fought side by side. I am not
sure I want to miss that.”

“If you do not take Joselyn to
Forestburn, then Ken has already said that he will. I have a feeling Toby would
rather see you than Ken.”

“Toby will eat Ken alive if he
shows his face instead of me.”

“So you will take her when you
go?”

Tate sighed faintly, some of the
fight gone out of him.  He resumed chewing, more slowly. “What will you do
about the boy?”

“Send him with her. They can take
the time to get acquainted.”

De Lara scratched his head with
exhaustion, digesting both his meal and the information the night had brought. 
“Will you tell him of his parentage before I leave?”

“When will you leave?”

He shrugged and wiped at his
mouth. “More than likely on the morrow. If you are comfortable with what troops
you have here, there is no reason for me to stay any longer.”

“Good,” Stephen agreed. “The
sooner you remove Joselyn from this place, the better I will feel.”

With nothing more to say, Stephen
left Tate devouring half a cow while he left the warm, stale great hall for the
cool evening outside.  Dogs barked in the distance and sentries with torches
lit up the battlements.  Stephen surveyed the bailey as he passed through en
route to the keep, half-expecting to see his wife somewhere in the confines. 
He would not have been surprised to see that she had convinced St. Héver to
disobey a command.  But there was no wife lurking in the shadows of the bailey
so he entered the keep, mounting the stairs just as Kenneth was descending. 
They nearly crashed into each other and Stephen had to back down to the bottom
to allow Kenneth to descend.  The big blond knight was moving faster than
usual.

“What is wrong with you?” Stephen
demanded. “You move as if the Devil is on your heels.”

“The devil is,” he lifted a white
eyebrow, moving for the entry. “Your wife was attempting to coerce me into
taking her fawn out for a night stroll.  She said if I did not do it, she would
be forced to take it.  I had to run away lest she snare me for the task.”

Stephen snorted. “Coward.”

Kenneth was out the door, walking
backwards as he jabbed a finger at Stephen. “The woman is bewitching, Pembury.
She looks at you with her pale blue eyes and it is impossible to deny her.”

Stephen shook his head with a
grin on his face. “You are telling me something I already know.” He lifted his
voice as Kenneth moved further away. “De Lara leaves on the morrow for
Forestburn; he is taking Joselyn with him.”

“Good!” Kenneth shouted from
mid-way across the bailey.

Stephen’s grin was still on his
lips when he reached his chamber and opened the door.   Joselyn was sitting on
the bed, removing her shoes, her head snapping up when Stephen entered. She
smiled, mostly because she was glad to see him but also because he was still
grinning.  She cocked her head.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

He rubbed his chin wearily,
yawning with the sudden heat of the room.  “Because you have scared Kenneth
away,” he told her, putting out a hand to stop her as she went to set her shoe
on the bed. “Wait a moment; I have a need to speak with you before you undress
for bed.”

She was interested and curious.
“Of course. What about?”

Stephen’s smile faded as he gazed
down at her, wondering for the first time how she was going to receive the news
of her son being within the walls of Berwick. He had meant well when he had
sent Tate to retrieve the boy, but now he wondered if he had done the right
thing. He was suddenly uncertain.  He moved to one of the two large chairs that
flanked the table in the room and lowered himself down.

Stephen sat forward with a deep
sigh, leaning his elbows against his knees and letting his hands hang. It was
clear that he was pensive as he focused on Joselyn, meeting her inquisitive
expression.

“Jo-Jo, you know that I love you
and there is nothing on this earth that I would not do for you,” he began
quietly. “I have done something… questionable. I hope you will forgive me.”

She shook her head faintly,
having no idea what he was talking about. “I would forgive you anything, my
angel. What is it?”

He smiled faintly in response
before his smile faded away. “I have a confession that must not leave these
walls.”

She grew very serious. “I would
never betray you.”

“I know that.  But you must
understand that what I did, I did for you.”

“What did you do?”

He inhaled deeply again as if
gathering courage. “The soldier that raped you,” he began quietly, so quietly
that it was nearly a whisper. “I killed him.”

Joselyn’s eyes widened. “You… you
killed
him?”

He nodded slowly. “During the
siege those weeks ago when I came to you demanding the truth of what your
father had done to you.  Do you recall that day?”

She nodded, suddenly looking as
if she was about to cry. “I do.”

Stephen could sense the mood of
the conversation turning grave. “The soldier with the scar on his forehead
saved my life upon the battlements that day,” he tried to sound as if he was
not struggling with the conversation, which he was. “I thanked him before I
realized who it was.  When I confronted him about your rape, he said that you
were not virgin when he had taken you.  He called you a whore so I killed him.”

Joselyn burst into quiet tears
and hung her head.  Stephen went to her, drawing her into his massive embrace
and holding her tightly.  He lay back on the bed, taking her with him, holding
her while she wept.  His lips were on her forehead as he spoke.

“He can no longer hurt you,” he
murmured. “I had to tell you what I had done so that you would not live in fear
of seeing this man for the rest of your life.  But know this; I would kill a
thousand men just as easily in order to keep you safe and happy. You are the
most important thing in the world to me.”

Her weeping increased and she
lifted her head, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.

“I love you,” she murmured, tears
on her lips as she kissed his face. “You are my angel and I love you more than
life.”

He didn’t say anything a moment,
holding her close and burying his face in her hair. His attention was
momentarily diverted as he realized that she didn’t feel as warm as she had
earlier. He felt a good deal of relief that her fever was apparently abating.
With that comfort, he moved on to the next piece of news he needed to deliver.

“There is something else you must
know,” he said softly, pulling his face from her hair and focusing on her
red-rimmed eyes. “You told me once that the child that was the result of the
rape was fostering at Ettrick Castle. Do you recall?”

She nodded, sniffling. “His name
is Cade.”

“I asked de Lara to fetch the
boy. He is here at Berwick.”

Her eyes abruptly widening to
titanic proportions as his words sank in. Her mouth popped open and in an
instant, the tears were vanished. “He is here?” she breathed with shock.

“Aye,” Stephen replied steadily.
“That is why I asked for your forgiveness; I should have asked you how you felt
about a reunion with him but I did not. I had Tate go to Ettrick and bring the
boy back to Berwick. He is your son, Joselyn, and because he is part of you, he
is a part of me as well. With your approval, I should like to adopt the boy.”

She stared at him, the pale blue
eyes wide with astonishment. “You would become his father?”

“If you will allow it.”

She continued to stare at him,
overwhelmed. There was so much amazement and delight in her heart that she
could hardly contain or express it.   Her hands were on his cheeks, her pale
blue eyes boring into him, as words of gratitude, amazement and blessing
tumbled over and over in her mind. It went beyond what she ever believed the
man capable of; his graciousness was without measure.

“You honor me, Stephen,” she
finally whispered, the emotion apparent in her eyes.  “There are no words to
express my love for you or the joy that is in my heart at the moment.  To thank
you seems wholly inadequate.”

He smiled faintly, touched by her
reaction. “Then you approve?”

She nodded so strongly that her
hair ended up in her eyes, throwing her arms around his neck again and holding
him fast against her.  Then she abruptly bolted off the bed.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

Stephen grabbed her by the wrist
so she would not run wild. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he tried to force her to
focus so he could finish telling her what he must. “Cade has no knowledge that
you are his mother.  He does not even know why he is here. It would be well for
you both if we treat this very carefully. You must be gentle when you explain
the circumstances of his parentage.”

Joselyn was in a haze of
delirium, but she understood what Stephen was trying to tell her. Or, at least
she thought she did. She nodded her head eagerly, struggling to control her
excitement.

“I will tell him that I am his
mother and he should be happy, don’t you think?” she said enthusiastically. She
suddenly threw her arms around his neck again, knocking him off balance. “Oh,
Stephen, thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you from the bottom of my
heart.”

He coughed as she knocked him in
the throat, torn between his caution and her joy. “Sweetheart,” he unwrapped
her arms and held her still, fixing her in the eye. “You cannot go charging up
to the boy and announce you are his mother. Do you understand that?”