Rowena Through the Wall: Expanded Edition (10 page)

"Well, rock my socks," I muttered beneath my breath. "That was kinda fun."

"Are you out of your mind, Rowena?" Richard hissed behind me. "Do you have any idea how dangerous he is?"

I stared at the horses being brought into the stable.

Yes, I had a very good idea how dangerous Sargon might be.

Chapter 11

We were to meet in the great hall for dinner. Ivan came into my bedroom and flopped down on the bed.

"Things aren't good, are they?" I said, turning from the wardrobe. Things weren't good in my wardrobe either, but that was another story.

Ivan stared at the ceiling. "No, they're not."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

"There are rumors of a takeover coming from the south. Sargon's here to confirm alliances and take stock of the remaining men."

I remembered something. "Jon told me there was nothing left to fight for since the fertile women and children are gone."

Ivan rubbed his weary eyes. "It seemed that way when everyone was grieving. But now you have a lot of men with nothing to occupy their time but petty grievances. There is nothing to do
but
drink and fight. Even though there is no obvious reward."

"You're saying men fight because it's their nature?"

"Exactly."

This was a new development in our relationship. Ivan was
sharing
. He had come to my room to talk things over with me, a real a turning point, and I was happy to play my part.

"What does this mean for Grandfather," I asked, surprised at how much I really cared.

"Durham, the castle south of here, was razed in the last battle. It's a ruin. We're first in line for a southern attack. I can't see how we can defend this castle and stand with Sargon at his. There aren't enough men. He'll pull us from here, I fear, and leave Huel defenseless."

A chill ran down my back. This beautiful castle left defenseless to enemies who might burn it?

"You don't like Sargon, do you?"

"He's devious, Rowena. I don't trust him an inch."

I thought that was a fair assessment, and probably the very reason Sargon was still king.

"'Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,'" I quoted.

"What did you say?"

I repeated it.

"I like that." Ivan smiled. "It speaks the truth. Tell your grandfather that one."

I didn't like to think about what my family faced in the near future. It was hard enough coping with what I had to face tonight.

"How did Sargon know about me?" I asked.

"The man has scouts everywhere. He probably knew the exact hour you set foot in the castle." He stood and stretched. "You had better get dressed. I said I'd be down early to sort out the sleeping arrangements for our guests." The disdain in his voice was clear.

When Ivan was gone, I turned back to the wardrobe. Dinner was a problem. My last good dress had been wrecked in the mud fight and I still hadn't completed the alterations on the few remaining gowns that didn't fit. I had two muslin day dresses, but to wear them at dinner would be an insult to our esteemed guest.

The only thing left was the turquoise two-piece from home. I didn't like the fact that it was bare in the middle. When I slipped it on I realized I'd lost a little weight because the skirt now hung lower on my hips. But it was a shimmery fabric and not a color found in this world, so that made it special.

I draped Gareth's jewel around my neck. "When in doubt, add jewelry." That was my motto.

My mother's beaded slippers were a snug fit, but doable. I did as much with my hair as I could, but it would have to stay down. I didn't have the tools for anything more elaborate.

Noise erupted from the corridor. Male voices and laughter.

Now or never, I thought as I left the sanctuary of my room.

As I descended the stairway, there was a hush. All eyes turned toward me, mouths gaping. Sargon's murky stare held mine as I paused on the bottom step.

Ivan rushed forward and held out a hand. "Allow me."

"We have a Goddess in our midst," Sargon said, crossing his arms.

There was appreciation in his eyes as they trailed from my bosom across the expanse of bare skin to my hips. His eyes veered upward and latched onto the jewel. He scowled. "May I?"

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the jewel and turned it in his hand, the candlelight casting beams of blue across the room.

"This was Norland's, last I saw." His eyes narrowed. "A gift?"

I nodded.

He grinned with wolf teeth. "You become more and more interesting. There must be a story there."

I gave him a tight smile in return. Ivan stiffened beside me.

"This is my brother Thane," Sargon said, introducing me to a man standing nearby.

Thane was a softer version of his older brother. Was it possible to use the word
soft
with respect to any of these men? There was no softness in his strong, hard body. He was a similar height to his brother, about six feet, and his face reflected the same chiseled features as Sargon's. The softness was in his eyes, which were a friendly blue instead of black. And the mouth, although thin, smiled with kindness, not contempt. He had the most beautiful black hair that curled over his forehead and ears.

When I caught Thane's eye, there was a
zing
of electricity.

I shrugged it off.

Beside Thane stood Rhys, a man of few words. Next to him was Logan, who was even taller, but younger, with hair as auburn as mine. There were more men behind them, all well built, all respectful, and
―I noted―still armed. You might leave your sword at the door in this world, but never your dagger.

In the dining hall, two places were set at the head of the table. Grandfather took a seat and I sat to his right. Sargon chose a middle seat along the left s
ide, opposite Ivan. His men filled in beside him. Our men took places along the right side of the long table. It was an odd arrangement, but I expect it had something to do with defensive positioning.

One thing I noticed at these meals, there was a lot of meat. We had chicken, venison, wild duck and every variation of game. They used a bland flatbread to soak up juices. No one seemed to have heard of vegetables. Or salad. The thing I missed most in this world was coffee.

And table manners.

As far as I could tell, there were none. Men reached for food and discarded bones with little finesse. I was used to ranch life and the way of cowboys, so this didn't shock me completely, but the loud chewing and talking with mouths full of food did little to appease my sense of proper etiquette.

I took my modest serving and tried to stay out of their way.

Partway through dinner, I noticed a curious thing. The men were drinking far too much as usual, but not Sargon. He made the motions, but did not sip every time he raised the tankard to his lips. His ominous glance would catch me now and then, measuring. This made me wary.

Why was he intent on not drinking?

The room grew hotter, noisy. Smoke from the candles gave the air a ghostly haze. Through it, I could see something being passed about. A dagger.

I had a bad feeling, a sense of dread.

"You like this blade?" Sargon asked Ivan.

Ivan nodded, mesmerized.

"It is perfectly balanced," Sargon said. "Here. Touch it. Try it in your hand."

He held the sharp blade across the table. Ivan took it eagerly.

"I will make you a trade." Sargon's mouth curled in a sinister smile. "You may have it in return for something else. I want one night with your wife."

Gasps hissed through the room.

Ivan roared and pushed back from the table. The dagger was in his hand.

"Stop, Ivan!" I jumped to my feet. "Can't you see he's maneuvering for an excuse to kill you?"

And then I would be conveniently without a husband, no doubt the purpose of this plan.

Sargon rose smoothly and took a determined step toward me. "A woman who can strategize." His eyes blazed. "How fascinating."

We stared at each other across the short space. It was like being mesmerized by a snake.

"I studied Tacitus at school," I said in a cool voice.

"Remarkable."

Sargon took another step and reached out to touch my hair. I heard Ivan growl. Jon held him firmly by the shoulders.

I stepped back. "I am not a chattel to be passed around. I'm not Ygraine."

"Take care, Rowena," Grandfather said, meeting my gaze with a worried look.

We both knew we were at some balance point where things could turn nasty at the flash of a flame and he would be unable to defend me.

"Who is this Ygraine?" Sargon demanded.

Perhaps I could play Scheherezade and defuse the room with words.

I turned to address the king. "Ygraine was wife of the Duke of Cornwall in ancient times. She was beautiful and a talented entertainer and Cornwall liked to show her off. One night there was a banquet very much like this," I swept my hand across the table, "with lots of ale flowing freely. Too much ale. Uther the king of Britton was a guest, and his whole entourage supped along with Cornwall's men." I scowled at the men of Huel. "The men got bawdy, as they will. Toward the end of the night, Cornwall ordered Ygraine to dance and when she did, Uther the king was filled with lust."

Surveying the audience to see how my story was going down, I noticed the drinking had stopped. They were spellbound.

"Uther demanded to have Ygraine," I continued. "Fighting broke out in the hall and the men went out to gather arms. Uther raised his mighty forces to meet Cornwall on the battlefield, but at nightfall before the first day of battle, the wizard Merlin cast a spell for his king. Uther was a man possessed. He could wait for Ygraine no longer."

I paused to take a breath. Even Sargon was caught in the web of my voice. He seemed transfixed.

"While Cornwall slept with his troops on the field, Uther took the form of Ygraine's husband and walked right into the Castle Cornwall. He went to Ygraine's room and lay with her that night. All night he took her, wearing the face and body of his enemy so that Ygraine would think she was submitting to her own husband."

There was a collective gasp.

I looked off in the distance. "He left Ygraine at dawn. Cornwall died on the battlefield that day and Uther rode back to claim Ygraine for his queen." I paused for effect. "There was a child from that night. His name was Arthur. He became ruler of Camelot, the greatest kingdom our world has seen."

I stopped there. The story of Art
hur and Lancelot was a sad one full of betrayal. It wouldn't help the atmosphere in this room tonight.

"I think I need you at my court," Sargon said, his voice thick.

Grandfather moved to my side. "But, Sire―"

"You will
all
come," Sargon commanded, his intense gaze directed at Ivan. "She can be kept safer there, you must agree."

He smiled, the look of a famished wolf.

When he turned back to me, his expression changed. I had a horrid feeling of inevitability.

Oh, bloody hell, I thought.

The guests had bedded down for the night in another area of the castle far from my room, but I could hear voices in the corridor outside.

"What are our choices?" I heard Jon say.

"Not many." Ivan sounded bitter. "To refuse would mean we'd have to stand. And I don't know if any would stand with us."

"If we can call back Cedric, would his southern connections join with us?"

Ivan's laugh wasn't pleasant. "Cedric will be glad to see me go down."

"Norland will wait for us to kill each other off and then descend like a vulture."

So Gareth was recovering well. God help me, I was relieved.

"We go then," Jon said after a while.

"And I wait helpless for him to lay his claim?" There was fury in Ivan's voice. "No. I'll not stomach that. I want it out here."

"We have no other choice," Jon in
sisted.

"We do. I can challenge him outright."

"Are you out of your mind, Ivan? You can't challenge the king. That's treason. Even if you did win―which is unlikely for he is a master―you would stand trial."

"I hate this. There must be some way."

"Of course
, if he were to challenge you..."

They moved down the hall, out of hearing.

I thought about what I'd overheard. Ivan was right. There was another way. A way that would solve everything.

I could leave this world and go back through the wall.

Chapter 12

I got up at dawn and dressed in rose muslin. It was a fair day, a good day to make time on a horse. I dashed down the staircase, and left by the side door