Ria Cantrell - Celtic Storm 03 (6 page)

“My lady, I will come with you. Alys is faring so much better now.”

Shaking her head hastily, she said, “I will try to come back later. I must hurry. Stay with your family now.”

“But if there is danger.…”

“All the more reason to let me go myself. I will take the back trail. Please Alric, I must go.”

He nodded and knelt before her, taking her hand to his lips.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

Rhianna just nodded and left hastily. She would have to run the entire way and even then, she knew in her heart, she would not get there in time.

~Chapter Eight~

Erik’s face was set grimly. They were rapidly approaching the du Montefort Keep and he had spied the filthy villager at the side of the road. She was caked in dirt probably from weeks of not bathing. He shuddered at the squalor of the woman. He turned to Drew and said, “Did you see that girl? She was covered in filth. That is a grim portent of what is to come.”

Drew tried not to grin too broadly. Yes the girl was dirty, but even he could tell that underneath the grime, the girl was pretty. In fact, he was certain that most of her soiled appearance had come from the hooves of Erik’s men riding past her. Drew noted that the little village actually looked quite well tended. There were neat little fields which were plowed and thriving with what would prove to be a bountiful harvest now that summer was at an end. Already the yields would be set. Rows of thatched cottages lined the lane and Drew’s eye did not miss that the roofs were in good repair. Some of the locals were out and about, tending their crops or their animals. No one looked burdened with strife. The young pretty girl actually looked as if she had taken a tumble in the mud and in truth, seemed quite out of place in the pristine little scene that met them as they rode through the town.

Erik was still brooding and he failed to see just how well kept the demesne was. Drew said, “She was just a girl, Erik. No doubt our men’s horses caused mud to fly onto her.”

Erik fairly grunted. “She was covered from head to toe in the muck. She was probably also crawling with vermin. She stood slack-jawed, staring at me like a simpleton. No doubt she was.”

Drew was becoming rather impatient with Erik’s sour mood. His failure to see his good fortune was wearisome. Erik’s ill humor was starting to seep into Drew’s good cheer and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Shaking his head, Drew spoke no more and spurred his horse to the front of the retinue. The banners were raised and it was time to take his place as captain of Erik’s Elite Guard. This put Drew at the head of the ranks, leaving Erik in his misery at the rear flanks. Drew mused that once they were welcomed at du Montefort, he might even seek out the wench for company. After a bath and scrubbing, she may even prove to be a pleasant dalliance.

~~~~~

Andarra made her way slowly up to the tower that housed the watch guard. Tristan was there and his face bore the weight of his predicament in his dour expression.  He turned to look at the elderly woman who had been his friend these many years.

“Woman, what are you about? You should not be up here. It is dangerous for you to climb to this height.”

“I wanted to talk to you about our guests.”

“Aye they are rapidly approaching and the Lady has given me orders to have our bowmen send them a welcome gift.”

“That is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. You cannot think to do such a thing. It would be an act of war upon the king’s envoy.”

“I agree. But what should I do? I cannot disobey the Lady Rhianna. My loyalties lie with her and Lord Randall.”

“Randall is not here to govern the rash actions of his sister. This would bring havoc upon all our heads. Your loyalty to Lady Rhianna also means protecting her and the keep. If we rain arrows down upon our esteemed guests, would that be in the best interest of du Montefort?”

Tristan hung his head sadly and replied, “Nay.”

With a heavy sigh he said, “In truth I knew I could not do such a thing. It would be an act of treason at best.”

“So, we must disobey the Lady this time. Lower the bridge and raise the portcullis, Tristan. We cannot risk the safety of our precious Rhianna now.”

“As soon as she learns I have defied her, she will secure the keep, I am certain.”

Andarra wistfully said, “Nay, she has been out all night tending Alric’s little Alys. She has not yet returned. By the time she does, our guests will be properly welcomed and settled.”

“You are a devious woman, Andarra.”

She looked wounded and she said, “Nay, the Fates have brought this honorable knight to our beautiful girl. Who am I to thwart Their machinations?”

“Oh, it is the Fates now, is it? Woman, have you been conjuring again?” 

Tristan knew that many called their Rhianna a witch, but in truth Andarra was known for sometimes having visions and premonitions. She shrugged and said, “Nay. Can I help it if the Guardians show me what is to come?”

Tristan knew not to mock Andarra’s visions. He learned not to discount them from either Andarra or Rhianna, for that matter.

“What have you seen about this one sent to wed our flower?”

The smile died on Andarra’s face. She grew quite serious and she said, “That he is to be her most irritating thorn…and he is to be her salvation….” Andarra’s voice wandered off. Tristan nodded in understanding and saw the old woman’s head lower. She had not told him all of it.

“What else, Andarra? What is it that you have not said?”

“He will be her greatest thorn, but also her greatest love.”

Tristan’s grim visage split into a wide grin. Without a second thought, he lowered the drawbridge and raised the portcullis.

~Chapter Nine~

Erik was surprised to see the drawbridge lowered. He momentarily thought that the forces guarding the keep were lax and careless until he realized that it had been lowered in welcome of their riding party. As he glanced up toward the battlements, though, he did not miss the number of bowmen that lined the castle walls.
What the hell? Was he being led into a trap?
He motioned for his men to hang back until he could be sure that the bowmen were not planning an ambush of his men. Though they were armed, they were not planning on doing battle at the site of Erik’s betrothed. Nearly halting his horse, Erik reined the animal in, skirting back as each of his guards filed past. He gave orders to prepare and he motioned with the slightest nod of his head toward the many archers that stood at the ready above them. It was enough for the men to glance up at the perceived threat that may lay in wait for them.

Erik’s horse skittered nervously. He could sense his master’s unease and his hooves pawed the ground in a jittery dance. Erik sat up straight in his saddle and held the reins with more command. He spoke to the horse, willing it to calm. While he did not relish the thought of attack, Erik at least felt a sense of relief that the keep was guarded properly against invaders. He made a cursory assessment of the place and found it to be fortified to his satisfaction. He somehow had expected it to be naught more than a moldering pile of bricks. He was subconsciously pleased it was nothing of the sort. Before he could ponder the situation much longer, the portcullis raised and an elderly woman walking with the aid of a large staff crossed the inner bailey. She was flanked by two guards dressed in the green and gold livery of the house. One was as old as she, but he bore a sword strapped at his side and a bow was slung across his back. Erik’s eyes darted from each man to the woman in between. She was old enough to be his grandmother. Though she was veiled and wimpled, stray white hair crept from beneath the confines of the headdress. She was as plump as a quail and her cheeks were splotched with the ruddiness of age. Her hands, marred with liver spots and slightly gnarled, gripped the staff for support and she gave the briefest of curtsies as her arthritic limbs did not give way to movement that came with ease.

All at once, realization came over Erik as the old woman spoke and a sick queasiness began to rise inside of him.

“Welcome, Sir Ragnorsen. Welcome to du Montefort Keep.”

Erik felt like he would once again lose the contents of his stomach. This woman; this aged old woman was his betrothed. This had to be a horrible joke.
The devil take him!
He was neither going to wed or bed this woman. The woman called for grooms to tend to the horses and Erik numbly dismounted and handed the bridle over to one of the stable mates. The old woman came forward and grabbed his hand. Erik practically recoiled at the touch but he dutifully raised her ancient hand to his lips.

“My Lady,” he said in greeting.

The old woman beamed a smile at him and she fairly clapped, saying, “Oh, he is so handsome, is he not Tristan?”

Erik was horrified at the hag’s bold assessment of him. If she could devour him, Erik was pretty certain she clearly would. Beside it being improper and lacking decorum, it was not something an innocent woman would say to a man. For the love of God, the creature was as old as dirt!
Could she really think that he
….

As brave a knight as he was, Erik was absolutely sure that no amount of courage could help him face the marriage to this one before him. The man she had called Tristan bowed before Erik and said, “Welcome, Sir. I am Sir Tristan. I oversee the men at arms of this keep.”

Shaking off his horror, Erik pulled upon his warrior’s background and he focused on the older soldier standing before him. With a pensive nod, Erik said, “So it was your bowman standing at the ready upon our approach.”

It was not a question. Color rose in Tristan’s face.

“Forgive me, Sir Ragnorsen. T’was not my intention to wage war upon your entourage. In truth, Sir, I was under orders of the Lady to defend the keep from any intruders; even ones sent by the king.”

Confusion fired in the cool blue depths of Erik’s eyes. With brows drawn together, he turned toward the old woman and said, “Why? Why would you set your bowman upon me?”

With a giddy laugh, the old woman said, “Me? Goodness, no, Sir Erik. I surely did no such thing.”

“Then if it was not you, who gave the orders to skewer the king’s retainers?”

“I did.”

All heads whipped around to see a bedraggled and mud-caked Rhianna, who was very much in need of a bath, stalking toward them. She looked murderous. Erik’s jaw fairly dropped at the sight of the specter before him. Both parties ground out, “You!” at precisely the same time, as one voice.

Andarra wondered at their mutual greeting, but she could see wrath boiling in the emerald eyes of her lady as well as disdain smoldering in Sir Erik’s.

“Who authorized these--these usurpers to enter into my home?”

She turned on Tristan and she fairly shook with ire. Glaring at him and she accused, “You! I gave you orders, Tristan. You have vowed to defend this keep and this household. You have not only disobeyed me, you have broken the vow you have made to my father.”

Wheeling on all who stood before her, she could barely contain her rage. “The lot of you are false traitors.”

Both Tristan and Andarra stood aghast at the spectacle unfolding before them and before the honored guests. Tristan hung his head briefly but Sir Erik spoke, involuntarily coming to the defense of the old Captain of Arms.

“You would have waged war on a Royal envoy? Thankfully your captain was far less foolish, my
Lady
.”

He said the last with sarcastic courtesy for she neither looked like a lady of good breeding, nor had she behaved as such.

Rhianna faced the Nordic giant; Thor! It was the hell guard that had practically run her down!

“How dare you? You nearly trampled me and now you think to ingratiate yourself into my home and with my vassals? Who do you think you are?”

With an over-exaggerated bow, he replied, “Sir Erik Ragnorsen, Knight of the Realm for His Majesty, King Edward, at your service. And who might you be for surely, I must have mistaken you for a gutter urchin.”

Rhianna was outraged at his comment and she spat out, “Lady Rhianna du Montefort, Mistress of the keep and head of this household.”

As she bent in a mocking curtsey, a clod of mud slid down her cheek and landed on the toe of Erik’s boot. It completely undermined her sense of sarcasm. Erik’s gaze followed the dirt that had landed on his boot and then he glanced at Drew, who was grinning like a simpleton. Erik’s eyes finally looked into the emerald fire of his mud encrusted betrothed and he felt laughter bubbling up inside of him. At first, he tried to cough to mask it, but try as he might, he could not suppress it. What began as a low chuckle soon turned into a full guffaw. It was now Rhianna who thought that this man’s wits were addled. The blond giant was nearly doubled over in laughter. Rhianna failed to see the humor in it. The handsome guard, standing beside him, was also grinning like the village idiot. Andarra was smiling with glee and even Tristan had cracked a smile. Looking from face to face of those surrounding her, Rhianna was starting to feel distressed. Had they all gone mad? With her hands planted firmly on her hips, she snapped, “I do not see what is so amusing.”