My Lady Faye (24 page)

Henry made a disapproving noise. “You should take your wife in hand.”

“Tell me, Henry.” The anger on Garrett’s face came and went in a flash. “She was your sister for years before she was my wife. How did you manage to take her in hand?”

Henry grunted and colored to his hairline.

“Indeed.” Garrett snorted. “That is what I thought. For you to even say such a thing shows me how little you know of women.”

Gregory’s face heated. His knowledge of women fell short of even Henry’s he would wager. All this talk of his intentions made him uncomfortably aware of his ignorance. As a man of God, he’d never inquired more or furthered his education. Since he had rescued Faye from those brigands, his mind tormented him with all sorts of possibilities. Their encounter the other day had opened a door that would not stay shut.

Garrett eyed him quizzically. “Well, Gregory, that look on your face tells a story.”

Heat flamed higher on his skin, and Gregory cursed. “I was merely thinking how little I know of women myself.”

“Indeed.” Garrett turned in his saddle. “Come on, then. I have the feeling this conversation will require some oiling with mead.” He nodded at Henry. “And an absence of male relatives.”

“Now is not the time.” Gregory returned his gaze to the keep.

Garrett eyed it with him. “I do not think it is going anywhere. Come along.” He thumped Gregory on the arm. “Come and keep me company while the mighty Sir Arthur makes his plans. I hate the waiting.”

The summons from Calder churned in Faye’s gut. He had some new humiliation stored up for her. She was sure of it. Faye followed Sir John into the hall with her head high.

People filled the hall to bursting. The noise of male voices near deafened her.

Sir John kept his gaze averted from her beaten face. With her right eye swollen to twice its size and her lip split and bloodied, she must present quite the picture. Come morning, the ache on her right cheek would blossom into a bruise. Simon remained upstairs, safe from Calder for now. She’d brave this new humiliation and more to keep it thus.

Heads turned as she made her way through the throng to the front of the hall. Their gazes prickled across her skin. Let them look at her face and see what Calder had done. The shame was Calder’s not hers.

“My lady.” Calder sat at the high table. His leer roved her insolently as she drew closer. A smug smile crossed his face. “Welcome home.”

Her stomach churned until she wanted to vomit. How she would love to have that knife with her again and know how to wield it. She would carve the smile from his face and laugh as she did.

She and Sir John stopped at the foot of the dais leading up to the high table.

Calder didn’t invite her to sit. He meant to remind her of her place before the hall by having her stand in front of him like the lowliest serf. Faye squared her shoulders and let her gaze drift across the occupants of the hall. She addressed the hall at large. “I bid you good evening.”

Heads ducked and glances shifted to the side. What a craven bunch, not even able to hold her stare.

Calder stuffed meat into his mouth with his large fist. The fist he had raised against her and Simon. If she had the strength to make him pay for what he’d done, she would stuff Calder’s fist into his mouth until the sod choked on it. Grease dribbled over Calder’s chin and he wiped it with his sleeve.

Faye met the challenge in his stare.

“I have brought you to meet a friend.” Calder grabbed up his tankard and guzzled. Mead spilled over his chin and stained his tunic.

The hall hushed as two men shoved a girl into the hall.

Calder’s triumphant sneer spoke louder than any words.

The girl stumbled, came down hard on her knees, and huddled on the floor, her clothing torn, her face bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition. She hunched into herself and trembled as if she had no control. This was Ruth, sweet-faced, laughing Ruth with her big heart and endless patience.

Bile rose in Faye’s throat. She pressed her hand to her mouth.

“No fond greeting?” Calder chuckled.

The girl’s eyes gleamed dull and spiritless from her damaged face.

“What have you done?” The question wrenched from Faye.

“I thought I should make an example of her.” A bench scraped as Calder got to his feet.

Faye stepped toward the girl. “Ruth?”

Sir John touched her arm and shook his head in warning. Faye did not care. She stumbled the few feet separating them and knelt beside Ruth.

Ruth flinched and went still as Faye touched her.

“Oh, Ruth.” Faye cradled the girl’s face in her palms, afraid to cause more pain. So many words snarled in her brain that she could only shake her head. She had done this to Ruth. Ruth had helped save Simon and this was the result.

She noted each mark, each bruise and scratch on Ruth’s once-pretty face and stored them away in her mind. Faye had shouldered Calder’s guilt and shame too long. Calder had done this and for each hurt Ruth suffered, he would pay.

“Do you see, my lady?” Calder pinched her arm as he hauled her to her feet. “See what happens to those who betray me. Give the girl back to the men.”

Ruth whimpered as her captors dragged her to her feet.

She couldn’t help Ruth. Her helplessness jammed in her throat until she wanted to scream it out. Faye pulled at Calder’s hold. “Nay.”

“You learn slowly, wife.” Calder tightened his grip.

“My lord?” Sir John shifted a step closer. A frown creased his brows. “The hall.”

Calder’s glanced to the knight and beyond.

Grim faces stared at them.

The pressure on her arm increased. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cry out.

Sir John jerked his head to without the keep. “Our larger concerns? Outside?”

“Get her away from me.” Calder flung her at the older man.

Sir John caught her, his grasp firm but gentle as he assisted her to regain her footing.

She slowed her churning thoughts and stilled the fear in her belly. Faye took a deep breath. Stout heart and clear mind, as her father said. These would win the day.

With a troubled frown, Sir John watched them take Ruth away. He had stepped in before Calder could strike her. Discomfort flickered in the back of his eyes as Sir John motioned her to precede him from the hall. “My lady.”

Sir John would never openly defy Calder without some encouragement.

“She is a good girl, Ruth.” Faye climbed the stairs with Sir John at her back. “I knew her family. There was some talk of her marrying a young carpenter from Upper Mere. A nice young man.” Faye lingered as much as she dared. “Is there nothing you can do for her?”

“Nay.” Sir John’s voice held a definite note of regret.

“What he has done to her is horrible.”

They cleared the final bend in the stairs and entered the upper passageway. The lord’s solar loomed ahead. Once there, Sir John would lock her in again. Time ran out. “Will he do the same to me?”

“My lady?” Sir John’s steps faltered.

Faye turned to him. “Calder. Will he give me to his men to brutalize as they did Ruth?”

He paled, but his gaze shifted away and his frown deepened. “Nay.”

“But you are not sure.” If he would but look at her, the seed of doubt could be nurtured.

He stared at the wall beyond her shoulder.

“You cannot be sure of what he will do in his anger and his thirst for vengeance.”

Sir John took a step away. “You are a lady.”

“And Ruth was a lovely young girl. An innocent who said her prayers every night and never let the men of the keep turn her head.”

“She betrayed her lord.” Sir John stiffened.

“She did only what she thought best for her charge. Ruth believed a child should be with his mother.” Faye allowed her anger to seep into her voice. “And this is her punishment. This agony she suffers.”

He looked at his feet.

“Look at me, Sir John.” He must see the truth.

Sir John dragged his gaze up to her face. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Look at my face and see what he has done to me, his lawful wife before God and man.” She pointed toward the solar. “And if that is not enough for you, look at my son’s cheek. This is the man to whom you give your loyalty.”

“Enough, lady.” Sir John thrust his hand at the solar. “You do not know of what you speak.”

“I know better than anyone of what I speak, Sir John.” Faye held his gaze for a long moment. “You lived here when I did and you were not blind then, just as you are not blind now.” She turned and walked to the solar.

Simon sprang from the bed as she entered. “Mama?”

“I am well, sweeting.” She touched his bruised cheek.

Sir John’s stare fixed on the purple mark on Simon’s face. Let him look. Let him look and examine his conscience when he was done.

“Have you eaten, my lady?” Sir John stepped back into the doorway.

“Nay.”

“I will bring you something.” He shut the door behind him. The bolt slid home.

Trembling set in as soon as he had left. Poor Ruth. She couldn’t shake the image from her mind. Calder’s evil grew worse.

“There is an army,” Simon whispered. His face flushed as he motioned toward the casement. “Outside the walls, Mama, a huge army. Do you think it is grandfather?”

Faye ran to the casement. “Dear God.”

Simon had not exaggerated. The army spread across the land before the castle. Brightly colored pennants snapped in the breeze, a dragon proper on Argent. Her father’s colors. He was here. Her father had come. She hugged Simon to her and knew not whether to laugh or cry. So she did both.

There beside her father the lion rampant, her uncles were here, too. They might not even be looking, but Faye waved at the tiny figures on the green. She waved until her arm grew tired. It gave her the sense of connection with them. She prodded Simon until he waved. “We are here,” she wanted to shout. “We are here. Come and get us.”

A tall armored figure stepped out of one of the tents. He wore no colors. Gregory. She was sure it was him. She could not mistake his carriage or the set of his shoulders.

Faye strained out of the casement and waved more. Had she imagined the tall figure’s head swung in their direction? Nay, he raised his hand. “He sees us.” Joy bubbled up her throat in a sob. “It is Gregory and he sees us.” Faye grabbed Simon’s shoulders and bent her head to his. “We will find a way out there, Simon. By God, we will.”

* * * *

Gregory sat silent on his horse beside Sir Arthur.

The men atop the gatehouse shifted out of sight. Presumably, one of them had gone to fetch Calder. Sir Arthur insisted he would not speak with any other.

Some sense of awareness had made him glance up earlier, and he had seen the barest flash in the upper casement. Faye. She was alive. The gnawing dread muted to a manageable level. As long as she lived, then hope lived.

On the battlements, a figure appeared. Calder. Gregory’s blood surged. Would he could stretch across the distance and fasten his hands about the cur’s throat and squeeze until his face turned black and his eyes bulged in their sockets. Wrench the life out of Calder with his own hands.

“Well met, Sir Arthur.” Calder braced his hands on the crenellations either side of him. “And Father Piety, what a surprise that you are here, too.”

“Whoreson,” Sir Arthur muttered. If he were a cursing man, Gregory would be inclined to second that remark. “Let us get to it, Calder,” Sir Arthur shouted. “You know why we are here, send out my daughter and my grandson.”

Calder paused and grinned. “You mean my wife and my son. I am afraid not, Sir Arthur.”

A well-aimed knife would pierce the dog in his gullet. However, it would rob Gregory of the satisfaction of watching the light die as he killed Calder.

“Calder, try not to be any more of an idiot.” Sir Arthur folded his arms over his pommel. “You know me, and you know I will not leave without them. I have with me a writ from King Henry giving me guardianship of Simon and Faye.”

Calder jerked and straightened. “The king mistrusts you. He would never support your claim.”

“And yet, here it is.” Sir Arthur waved a scroll in the air. “Brought to me by the hands of my wife’s brothers.” He motioned with the scroll toward the small knot of knights standing near the archers. Two of them wore the king’s crest blazoned on their surcoats. The meaning, unmistakable, they rode with the king’s blessing. Sir Arthur turned back to Calder. “It seems the king, being no more than a boy, has strong feelings when it comes to a child being ripped away from his mother.”

“I care not what you hold in your hand.” Calder threw his hands wide. “I still hold something of much more value to you behind these walls.”

“Release them, Calder, by order of the king,” Sir Arthur called.

“Never.” Calder raised his sword. “If you can get in, you can have them.”

“This is then your final word?” Sir Arthur’s pose remained relaxed, but Gregory sensed anger gathering within him. “Your willfulness will lead you into an act of defiance against the king?”

“The king has no place between a man and his family.”

Sir Arthur threw back his head and guffawed. “The king has his place in every part of our lives.” He turned to his oldest son. “Mark you, Roger. There stands a dead man.”

Even from the distance, Calder’s rage seeped from him.

Calder’s anger would turn on Faye. Gregory had seen it too often. “Beware.” He barely moved his lips as he spoke. “He will visit that rage on Faye and the boy.”

Sir Arthur gave a tiny nod in acknowledgement of Gregory. “I want to see my daughter,” he called.

“Do you now?” Calder leant his shoulder against the stone. “And why would I allow that?”

“Look around you, boy.” Arthur gestured to the sea of waiting men. “And ask how much choice you have.”

Calder laughed. “Look around you, old man. All those men will do naught until you can breach these walls. I would wish you luck, but in the circumstances, you will understand if I do not.”

“Indeed.” Sir Arthur slapped down his visor. “A little advise, Calder. Run while you can.” Sir Arthur motioned the archers forward. “Anything moves on those battlements, put an arrow in it.”