The Falls of Erith (48 page)

Brooke
was a sobbing mess. “She is inside,” she sobbed, reaching out to grab his
forearm as he gripped her. “Braxton, she is sick. I do not know what has
happened to her because they will not let me see her, but I have been told she
is very sick.  They told me to tell you to return to Erith or you will never
see her again.”

Braxton
stared at the girl as she collapsed back into Dallas’ arms.  By this time,
Thomas, Robert, Davis and Geoff had made their way over to him, glad to see
Brooke but wondering where Gray was.  Some of them had caught the tail-end of
her sobbing explanation.  After taking a few shocking moments to digest her
news, Braxton suddenly reached out and yanked her from Dallas’ grip, so hard
that her neck nearly snapped. That set off Dallas and Geoff had to throw a big
arm around Dallas to keep the man from charging Braxton. 

“Brooke,”
Braxton was as close to losing his composure as he had ever been in his life.
“You will tell me what has happened from the beginning. What happened when they
took you from Creekmere?”

Brooke
sniffled and wept. “They came on our fourth day there,” she sobbed. “Baron
Wenvoe let them in. They tried to take my mother first but she would not let
them; she ran and hid from them, and then beat those who found her with a
roasting iron. I heard someone say that she put a man’s eye out.”

Braxton
realized he was shaking as he kept his grip on her arms. “And then what
happened?”

Brooke
was calming somewhat now that she was in familiar hands, with familiar people.
“They took us both back to Elswick,” she said, gazing into Braxton’s blue-green
eyes. “But Mama was not feeling well along the way. I think that fighting those
men off must have hurt her somehow. By the time we got here, she could barely
walk and they took her away from me. I have not seen her since our arrival.”

Everyone
heard the softly-uttered information, but no one more clearly than Braxton. He struggled
to remain collected, knowing that if he let himself go, he would surely destroy
all in his path.  There would be no return.

“And
you do not know what is wrong with her?” he asked.

Brooke
shook her head. “Nay,” she replied, her eyes beginning to well again. “I am
afraid she is dying.”

Braxton
let go of her, turning to face the black, shadowed bastion of Elswick. Thomas
moved to his  son, seeing his distress.

“They
sent the girl out as a good faith measure,” he rumbled. “They are hoping you
will do the same.”

Braxton
grunted. “By returning to Erith without my wife?” he growled. “I think not. If
they….”

He
was cut off by shouting from the dark, torch-lit wall. It was de Milne again.

“You
have your daughter back, de Nerra,” he hollered. “We have showed a measure of
mercy. Now you will do the same.”

Braxton
was losing his mind. His nerve, his gut, and everything else was starting to
go. The knowledge that Gray was ill, perhaps dying, swamped him until he could
think of nothing else.  He heard de Milne’s offer but he couldn’t agree with
it, not in the least.  He could hear Brooke weeping softly as he faced the
darkened walls of Elswick.

“I
appreciate your show of mercy,” he shouted up to de Milne. “But I am told that
my wife is very ill. Surely you know that I cannot leave without her.”

De
Milne didn’t reply for several long and tense moments. “It would be better if
she is not moved,” he replied. “I have a physic with her. She is well tended.”

The
news should have made Braxton feel better but it only made him feel worse.  He
lost everything at that moment; his guard went down completely and he was
stripped of his vengeance. All he wanted was to see Gray no matter what the
cost. If they would not turn her over to him, then he would go to her.  It was
the only choice.

“I
will send my army home,” he told de Milne,” but you will take me a hostage. I
want to be with my wife. If you will not release her, then you will take me
also.  Please, de Milne; as one husband to another, surely you can understand
my desire. I beg of you.”

Dallas,
Thomas, Robert and the rest of the brothers heard him, turning to look at
Braxton with varied degrees of astonishment and horror.  Dallas even let go of
Brooke, rushing to Braxton in denial.

“Nay,
Braxton,” he hissed. “They will kill you.”

Braxton
pretended as if he hadn’t heard him.  He yelled up to de Milne again. “I am
surrendering to you, de Milne,” he said. “You will accept me as a prisoner and
take me to my wife.”

De
Milne was off-balance by the offer, evident in his manner. He was no longer
hard as nails; he was edgy in his reply. “Send your army home now and I will
consider it.”

“They
will leave before sunrise. You will take me to my wife.”

De
Milne was still hesitant. “If you enter Elswick, I cannot vouch for your
safety, de Nerra. There are many here who seek vengeance for Lord Roger’s
death. It is possible that you may not live long enough to see your lady should
you venture into Elswick.”

“I
will take that chance. My life is in your hands, de Milne.  As an honorable
knight, I will trust you.”

He
began to pull off his weapons, casting them to the ground as Dallas and the
others watched in horror.  Thomas tried to plead with his son as he continued
to remove his armor, his mail, throwing them into a pile on the cold, dark
ground.  Robert tried to talk to him, as did Davis.  They all begged Braxton
not to do it, but Braxton wasn’t listening.  By the time he was finished, he
was clad only in his breeches, boots and damp, dirty tunic. Everything else was
on the ground in a pile.

The
only person who didn’t seem to be begging him not to do it was Brooke. She
watched Braxton as he stripped down to his clothing, standing vulnerable before
an entire fortress. As Dallas and Thomas suffered through the throes of anxiety
and Braxton’s brothers collective tried to dissuade him, Brooke went over to
Braxton.

She
was coming to understand his logic where no one else did, this young woman who
had grown up so much over the past several weeks.  Perhaps it was her love for
Dallas that had helped her reach new heights of maturity; perhaps it was
because she was coming into her own and developing her own sense of wisdom. 
Whatever the case, she was the only one who wasn’t fighting Braxton on the
matter of his surrender. She understood.

She
stood in front of him, smiling faintly at the war lord, the mercenary, who was
now at his most vulnerable.  He was such a mighty man, someone she respected
most in the world. But he was also the gentle man who had made her mother so
very happy. Her voice was soft as she spoke.

“Once,
Dallas came to my rescue and saved my life,” she murmured. “It was a great
sacrifice; I understand that now although I did not at the time. I did not see
how close he came to losing his life, too, and that he was willing to do it for
a woman he did not even know.”

Braxton
gazed at her, suddenly seeing a good deal of Gray in the young woman. The
beauty, the gentle wisdom, was the same in both women. Reaching out, he took
her hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle, fatherly kiss.

“Sometimes,
one must do as he must without thought to personal safety,” he whispered. “This
is something I must do.”

Her
smile broadened. “I know,” she reached out and touched his rough cheek. “But
before you go, please know that although I did know my real father, I did not
love him half as much as I love you. He did not teach me half as much as you have
or show such concern for me. You are the father I always hoped for, Braxton,
and I thank you for that. Without you, I would not know such happiness or such
love. You have made all things possible for me and for my mother.  That day at
the falls of Erith, my life changed forever because of you.”

Braxton
gazed at her with tears in his eyes. “I am very proud of you, Brooke,” he
murmured, kissing her on the forehead. “I could not love you more if you were
my own flesh and blood. Please know that.”

She
clutched his hand, smiling up at him. “And I love you also,” she whispered. “I
will walk you to the gates.”

He
simply nodded, putting a big arm around her shoulders as they began their trek
towards the gatehouse of Elswick. Dallas watched them go, tears streaming down
his cheeks; a greater self-sacrifice he had never seen, coming from a man who
had been like a father to him. Braxton knew full well that he may never make it
out of Elswick alive, but that didn’t matter to him. It was more important that
he be with Gray, the very center of his world.  It was selflessness of the
greatest magnitude. 

As
Braxton and Brooke faded off towards the torch-lit castle, Dallas turned to
Thomas.

“My
lord,” he said hoarsely. “Your son is the finest man who has ever lived.”

Thomas’
blue-green eyes watched his youngest son in the darkness, drawing closer to the
portcullis of Elswick. He understood the depth of the self-sacrifice; they all
did.  Thomas could barely put his feelings into words but, for Dallas, he
tried.

“He
is his own man, lad,” he murmured. “What he is has nothing to do with me. But I
will tell you this; a prouder father has never walked this earth.”

Dallas
glanced at Braxton’s brothers, all in varied degrees of anguish. Robert’s
cheeks were wet with tears as he turned away and headed off into the darkness. 
Eventually, they all turned away and headed off into the darkness. Braxton was
doing what he felt he must do and they respected that. But Dallas stood there,
waiting until his wife returned to him. 

Then
they, too, disappeared into the darkness.

CHAPTER
TWENTY TWO

August
1306

Erith
Castle

It
was just after the nooning meal and Geoff was watching Brooke as she furiously
swept the floor, pushing every crumb and every piece of dust into the hearth to
be burned.   He also knew that, once her husband arrived, she was going to be
in a good deal of trouble.  Dallas didn’t like her sweeping, especially now.

But
Brooke had ignored her husband’s wishes for months.  Any time he told her not
to do something or to rest, she soundly resisted.   Geoff watched her as she
stood up from having been bent over the hearth, stretching out her back and
exposing her enormous belly.  Broom in one hand, she alternately rubbed at her
back and her belly as if she couldn’t decide which one to massage first. 
Spying more crumbs in the corner, she hustled over to the spot and began to
sweep furiously.

“Dallas
will be here any moment,” he told her. “You had better turn that broom over to
me.”

Brooke
scowled at him. “I will not,” she said firmly. “You do not sweep as well as I
do.”

Fighting
off a grin, Geoff shook his head and looked away just as Edgar and Norman
entered the keep. Both young men had grown by leaps and bounds over the past
year; Norman had grown up and outward, now taller and wider than Dallas was. 
As a new knight, he was performing admirably.  Edgar, too, had shot up and was
now nearly as tall as his brother, although he hadn’t filled out quite as
much.  He, too, was in the midst of his knightly training and doing
exceptionally well.

The
one thing that hadn’t changed, however, was his relationship with Brooke.  They
were still like a brother and sister, antagonizing each other, although it was
much more discreet now that Dallas was around. As he entered the hall and she
realized who it was, she stuck her tongue out at him.  He balled a fist and
shook it at her.

“Edgar,”
she snapped. “Come here and sweep the floor. I should not be doing this.”

He
lifted an eyebrow at her. “I am not a house servant,” he sniffed, making his
way to the table. “Find someone else to do it.”

“What
was that, Edgar?” Dallas was coming in through the hall entry.  “Did I hear you
refuse my wife?”

Edgar
bolted over to Brooke and snatched the broom from her. “Not at all, my lord,”
he began to sweep furiously. “I am happy to help Lady Aston.”

Geoff
lowered his head lest Edgar and Dallas see him laughing.  Dallas reached the
table, leaning over to kiss his wife as he removed his heavy gloves.

“If
I catch you sweeping again, I am going to blister your backside after this babe
is born,” he told her. “You are not to exert yourself like that.  Last night,
it was cleaning out our chamber and the day before, it was washing linens.”

Brooke
gave him the big pouty face. “But I cannot sit still.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
I cannot. I feel nervous, as if I have to be doing something.”

He
lifted a warning eyebrow at her. “Nothing strenuous,” he ordered softly, giving
her a swift kiss. “Now, I must meet with my men.  Will you please give us some
privacy, sweetheart?”

Her
pout grew. “Why can I not stay? I will behave. I will not say a word.”