Guardian of Darkness (32 page)

She smiled, her expression hinting that she was reluctant to believe him.  He bent over to kiss her again but voices at the hall entry caught their attention.  Creed quickly moved a respectable distance away, eyeing the doorway as Burle suddenly bolted through it as fast as his flabby body would carry him.  Creed was concerned by the look on the man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Burle was focused on Creed as if nothing else in the room existed. “Trouble,” he said flatly. “We just received a messenger from Hexham.  De Rochefort is calling for aid.”

Creed grabbed his helm and gauntlets from the table top. “We just left de Rochefort’s men in town.”

“I know,” Burle replied. “If they are not back at Hexham by now, I am sure they will be shortly.”

“What did the messenger say?”

Burle looked at Carington, then, still seated at the table. “A raid,” he finally said, refocusing on Creed. “Scots.”

Carington bolted to her feet. “It would not be my father,” she insisted strongly. “He may be petty and belligerent, but he wouldna break a bargain. He is an honorable man.”

Creed plopped his helm on his head, turning to look at her as he pulled on his gauntlets. “No one is saying that it is your father, my lady,” he replied evenly. “There are plenty of other clans on the border who like to rattle our cage once in a while.”

He turned to follow Burle out the door but Carington ran up behind him just before he quit the hall.  She grabbed him by the arm.

“Be careful, English,” she dare not say more than that.  Already, she felt she was saying too much should someone overhear her.  “I dunna want ye returning with holes in ye.”

Creed gazed down at her lovely face and felt his heart lurch strangely. He did not like the thought of leaving her and very much wanted take her in his arms. But he dare not make the move.  In the bailey, the troops were shouting as they mobilized and he could hear the war horses being brought about.  Before he realized it, James was beside him with additional weaponry to prepare him for battle; the lad just popped up out of nowhere. Creed glanced at his tall, blond squire.

“Get my charger,” he commanded quietly. “Where is Steven?”

“Already with the horse, my lord,” the lad replied. “We are awaiting you.”

The young man handed him an assortment of daggers that Creed accepted and began shoving into niches in his armor. As the lad ran back to the swarming bailey, Carington watched Creed as he carefully seat the razor-sharp weapons in strategic positions on his body. Her trepidation for his safety grew.  But before she could comment, he turned to her.

“Go to your chamber and bolt the door,” he told her softly. “Do not leave that room for any reason.  Not until I return. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her emerald eyes full of fear.  To her credit, however, she said nothing about it; she simply glanced to the activity outside and forced a smile.

“Ye’d better go,” she told him. “They’ll not wait for ye.”

Creed held her gaze for a moment, feeling as if his heart was breaking just a little. It was an odd experience, something he had never before faced. He had never gone into battle leaving someone he cared very deeply for behind. With a wink, he forced himself out into the dusky bailey. 

Carington stood there and watched the troops amass.  She saw Ryton astride his big Belgian charger shouting orders to the men.  She watched as Creed mounted his enormous charcoal steed and began to carry out his brother’s orders. They were efficient and confident, eventually joined by Burle, Stanton and Jory.  As she watched the activity, she suddenly realized that someone was standing next to her.  Looking over, she noticed that Kristina had joined her. The pale blond realized that she was being watched and smiled timidly at Carington when their eyes met.  Carington smiled back.

“It seems we have a bit of excitement,” Carington told her.

Kristina nodded. “I have been watching it unfold from our chamber.”  Her gaze moved from the chaotic bailey to Carington. “How was your shopping trip?”

Carington was distracted from her view of Creed by the question.  She stepped back and twirled around for Kristina.

“What do ye think?” she asked.

Kristina smiled as she viewed the surcoat. “It is beautiful.”

Carington was interrupted from further conversation by Lord Richard and his boys; the trio descended the stairs and pushed past the women into the bailey.  Gilbert and Edward had small wooden swords and they charged out into the ward, swinging their swords and yelling at the men.  A couple of times, they nearly got trampled by the warhorses as Richard stood aside, watching his wild sons with pride. Carington found herself wishing that someone would run over the boys and teach them a lesson.  But the warhorses always managed to maneuver around them.  Eventually, the army began to filter from the bailey into the deepening night.

Carington and Kristina watched the last of the torches fade into the distance as the great gates of Prudhoe were closed and bolted.  Night had fallen and suddenly everything was dark and quiet. Richard and the boys were still standing in the bailey, only by this time the boys were thrusting their swords at each other.  Richard finally grabbed his sons and shooed them into the hall where the evening meal was about to be served.  

The boys ran past Carington without as much as a glance, to which she was grateful.  She was hoping they had grown tired of harassing her.  When she took her eyes off of the little boys who were now running and shouting all over the great hall, she found Kristina staring at her.

“Well,” Carington squared her shoulders, trying not to let her melancholy show.  She did not want rumors to get started about her feelings for Creed; from their conversation, she knew it would only bring about great harm to them all. “I have been ordered to retreat to my chamber and stay there. Are ye coming?”

Kristina moved to her side and looped a companionable arm through hers. Carington was a little startled at the familiarity at first but quickly got over it; she was coming to genuinely like Kristina and did not mind after all. In truth, she’d never really had a friend and found the English girl’s manner comforting.

“They always order us to our chambers when the army leaves,” Kristina told her. “They are always concerned that it is a ruse to draw the army away from Prudhoe so we will be vulnerable to attack.”

Carington looked at her with concern. “Is this always true?”

Kristina nodded. “Twice, it has been.  We were attacked by a great Scots…,” she suddenly trailed off, looking at Carington with horror.  “I did not mean to say… that is, they were Scots, but I am sure….”

Carington put her hand up to quiet her. “No harm, m’lady,” she said softly. “I know we have been enemies in the past. But I hope no longer.”

Kristina sighed, relieved that she had not offended her. “Nay,” she nodded. “No longer.”

The great hall was warm and fragrant and a grand meal was served in due time.  Lady Anne and Julia joined them, Julia seated next to Kristina and clearly attempting to orchestrate her companion’s kind attempts towards Carington.  But Carington did not particularly give notice to the petty girl; her mind was with Creed, now riding towards Hexham Castle and conflict. She found herself praying twice in one day, this time for his safe return.

So much had changed over the past few days.  Her life had become something she did not recognize but was not uncomfortable with.  From reluctant hostage to exhilarated bride, she was having a difficult time grasping the turn her future had taken.  Not even Gilbert’s taunting or Edward’s bad manners could dampen her spirits.  At the moment, she could think only of Creed and their future together.

When she slept that night, it was with dreams of a Sassenach knight with dusky blue eyes.

CHAPTER TEN

Morning came and Prudhoe’s army had not returned from Hexham.  Lord Richard seemed unconcerned with his absent army but Carington was so edgy that she could not eat her breakfast. As was customary when the army was not at residence within Prudhoe’s walls, the occupants of the castle were allowed to the great hall to break their fast, but afterwards were directed to stay in their bolted chambers and the entire fortress was locked down. Very little activity could be seen, mostly the remaining soldiers on the walls and a few servants dashing from place to place. And because of the lock down, the papal legate was unable to leave.  He was imprisoned in the keep just like everyone else.

Carington remained locked in her chamber with Kristina and Julia. She was dressed in one of her new surcoats, a pale yellow lamb’s wool that fit her body like the skin of a grape.  It was incredibly flattering, bordering on indecent, but she only knew that it was soft and warm.  She never noticed the stares of Richard or a few male servants during the morning meal.  She was simply thrilled to be in something other than rags.

Thankfully, Julia had kept silent for the most part during the sequestered existence in their chamber, still working on a great piece of embroidery that was strapped to a large frame.  She was very good at sewing and Carington would occasionally glimpse at the ambitious work.  But her attention would always return to the window next to her bed, gazing over the lush Northumbrian landscape for any signs of the returning army. 

She sat for what seemed like hours.  The nooning meal came and went, brought to them by a couple of serving women who provided them with a wide array of fruit, cheese and bread.  But Carington hardly touched it, even when Kristina brought her a lovely apple and a great hunk of white cheese.  Carington thanked the pale-haired lass kindly but she simply was not hungry.  So Kristina returned to her section of the chamber, brought forth a great deck of colorfully painted cards, and came back to sit on the bed next to Carington.

Carington eyed the colorful cards as the girl carefully organized them. “What is it ye have there?” she asked.

Kristina began to carefully lay them out on the coverlet. “These are fortune cards. They can tell your fortune.”

Carington smiled faintly at the thought of a piece of wood divining the future. But she was willing to play along.  “Did they tell ye that ye would be sealed up with me in a room today?”

Kristina giggled. “They did not,” she wagged a card in Carington’s direction. “You must be serious or the cards will not tell you anything.”

Carington pretended to wipe the smile from her face, finding enough distraction with the game to tear herself away from the window. “Very well,” she leaned against the wall and watched her new friend deal out the cards. “What are they telling ye?”

Kristina collected the cards she had just laid out, shuffled them around, and then indicated for Carington to take one.  Carington obliged and Kristina took the card out of her hand, laying it on the coverlet.  She peered at it closely. Because she was, Carington peered closely at it, too.

“What do ye see?” she asked.

Kristina’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It is The Chariot,” she said thoughtfully. “It means conquest and pride. It is the card of a warrior.”

Carington looked closer. “It does? “ She looked up at her friend. “Perhaps it is telling ye something about the battle at Hexham.”

Kristina pondered that. “’Tis possible,” she said. “It often means strength and battle.”

Suddenly, Carington took the cards more seriously. “What else?”