The Warrior Poet (48 page)

Alicia looked at
her daughter, shocked.
 
In fact, she felt
rather faint at the thought, adding to her already-surging emotions. “You
married
the Demon of Eden?” she hissed.
“I cannot believe my ears. Gaithlin, how could you do this?”

Gaithlin wouldn’t
back down. “I told you why,” she said. “I love him, Mother.
 
He is the most wonderful man in the world and
I will never regret my decision.
 
 
We did it for peace and we did it for love. I
suppose it really does not matter why we did it, only that we have.
 
But his army has come to take him back to
Eden to face his father with what he has done and if we do not stop him, Jean
will kill him for marrying me.
 
I will
not let that happen.”

Alicia stared at
her daughter, struggling to digest everything she was being told.
 
Her mind was still fractured with grief over
Eldon and it was all she wanted to focus on, but gazing into Gaithlin’s young
and panicked face, she was coming to see that her daughter had a serious
issue.
 
Something about marriage to the
Demon of Eden and… oh, God, it was so hard for her to comprehend all of it.

“How can we
possibly stop it?” Alicia was at a loss. “Gaithlin, whatever is occurring in
the House of St. John, let it occur. Mayhap it will implode upon itself once
and for all, and we will be finished with the disease that has weakened us for
the past seventy years.”

Gaithlin could see
that her mother didn’t grasp the seriousness of what was going to happen.
 
She began to feel a great deal of panic.

“They will not
destroy themselves,” she murmured emotionally. “Jean will kill the one chance
he has for peace because he thinks his son has betrayed him. Don’t you
understand? He will kill Christian for marrying me and if that happens, I can
promise you that I will present myself to Jean St. John and pray that he kills
me as well.
 
I will not live without my
husband.
 
With him dies not only my heart
and soul, but the only chance our family has for peace.
 
If you would allow him to die, then you would
allow me to die as well.”

Alicia gazed at her
daughter, seeing the utter sincerity on her face.
 
She meant was she said and at that moment,
Alicia began to grasp a little of what the woman had been trying to tell her. She
struggled with her grief, her angst, and her horrid sense of loss, but above
all, she could see love in her daughter’s eyes when she spoke of Christian St.
John. Alicia knew that look well; she had it herself, once. Despondency swept
her.

“What would you
have me do?” she whispered.

Gaithlin grasped
her mother, her expression beseeching. “Ride with me to Eden,” she whispered
fervently. “Ride with me and tell Jean that you will surrender Winding Cross in
exchange for Christian’s life.
 
You have
no more reason to hang on to that crumbling old fortress; let him have it and
deal with the fallout.
 
Christian and I
will take you with us and we will all start a new life somewhere, far away from
battles and feuds.
 
We must do this,
Mother, for all of our sakes. Jean’s only true goal is to see Winding Cross
surrender; let us offer it to him in exchange for his son.
  
It does not mean anything to us, anyway.
 
It is not our home but a prison.
 
Give Jean the prison and let us be done with
this, once and for all.”

So much of what she
was saying made sense. Alicia gazed at her daughter with an expression wrought
with reserve and hope.
 
She was
uncertain, yet Gaithlin’s words rang true; Winding Cross was a prison. The
memories there were not good ones.
 
What
was she holding on to?
Memories of a husband who did not love
her, of poverty and warfare?
If Jean wanted the trophy of a broken down
castle so badly, then what was stopping her from giving it to him in exchange
for Gaithlin’s husband? The truth was that there was nothing left to hold on
to.
 
Gaithlin was utterly correct.

She was also trying
to do something to establish peace for her children and for future
generations.
 
Alicia could not fault her
that, not in the least.
 
She was still
dubious about the man her child married, the hated Demon of Eden, but Alicia
was not beyond trusting her only child.
 
In truth, she had no choice.
 
She
wanted to be done with this as well.
 
As
evidenced by Eldon’s cooling corpse, the price was already too high. His death
was the last straw.
 
Her gaze moved to
the knight standing behind her daughter.

“You have heard all
of this,” she said to Quinton. “Will your father
accept
Winding Cross’ surrender in exchange for your brother’s life?”

Quinton sighed
faintly, glancing at Gaithlin when she turned around to look at him. “I would
hope so,” he said. “Your daughter is correct; all he wants is the complete
surrender of Winding Cross.
 
If he is
able to get that, there is no reason for him to kill my brother.”

“Would he truly
kill the Demon?” Alicia wanted to know.

Quinton lifted his
shoulders. “My father considers betrayal the worst of all sins,” he muttered,
his gaze finding Gaithlin. “By marrying your daughter, he has committed the
ultimate sin.”

“And
what of you?”
Alicia asked. “Do you believe he sinned by marrying my
daughter to cement an alliance?”

Quinton held the
woman’s gaze a moment before shaking his head. “Peace is never a sin,” he said.
“My brother had good reason for what he did.
 
He said that he wanted to raise his children without the constant threat
of war and I suppose if I think on it, that is what I would wish for as well.
Mayhap this feud has gone on long enough.”

Gaithlin smiled at
Quinton. “Then you will ride with us?” she asked. “Will you stand with us as we
make the proposal to your father? Winding Cross for Christian’s life?”

Quinton sighed
heavily; it was time for him to stand on his own convictions and make his own
decisions.
 
He was tired of death and
destruction, too.
 
Aye, he felt fortified
and strong enough to stand on his own.
 
After a moment, he nodded.
 
“For my brother, I will do this.”

Gaithlin reached
out to touch his arm but before she could say a word, thunder from the forest
caught their attention.
 
They all turned
to see men in tartan barreling through the bramble, astride big hairy horses
with swords and clubs in their hands.
 
Even in the moon light, they could see that there
were several dozen of them and probably more hidden by the dark and spooky trees.
 
They could hear the voices back in the
forest, hidden from view.

Gaithlin gasped as
Alicia, Quinton, and the armed de Gare men lifted their swords and prepared for
a battle.
 
Quinton grasped Gaithlin by
the arm and thrust her in the direction of the sod hut.

“Go,” he hissed.
“Get inside and bolt the door.”

Gaithlin didn’t
hesitate; she made a break for the hut, nearly crashing into Malcolm as the
young boy hovered just inside the doorway.
 
 
The child had been there for some
time, listening to the voices of unfamiliar people as they spoke with the tall,
blond lady.
 
She was begging them for
help; he could hear it clearly, and he was very frightened.
 
Men had taken Sir Christian away and there
was much upheaval in his small world.

“Scots!” he cried
at the sight of all of the tartan. “Th’ Scots have come!”

Gaithlin was trying
to wrestle him back into the hut but he didn’t want to go.
 
In fact, he pulled away from her and ran out
into the clearing, waving his skinny arms around frantically and jumping up and
down.
  
Gaithlin ran after him, terrified
that he was going to be cut down, but by the time she reached him, she ended up
tripping on over her feet and falling to her knees.
 
Malcolm ran to her and put his little arms
around her and Gaithlin scooped him up, struggling to stand up as the Scots
from the forest surrounded her.

Separated from her
mother and Quinton and the rest of the de Gare forces, Gaithlin held Malcolm
tightly, backing away from the men in rough tartan on horseback.
  
One man in particular seemed to be very
interested in her; he was big and blond, and he reined his horse towards her.

“What’s yer name,
lass?” he asked.

Malcolm burst out.
“She doesna have tae tell ye!” he said. “Ye dunna want tae hurt her, do ye
hear? I’ll kill
ye
if ye try!”

The men on
horseback laughed at the brave young lad. Even the man with the blond hair
grinned. “I dunna want tae hurt her, laddie,” he said. “I just want tae know
her name.”

“I am Lady St.
John,” Gaithlin said, clutching Malcolm against her fearfully. “Who are you?
What do you want?”

“St. John,” the big
blond Scotsman turned to the man next to him. “Did ye hear, Macky? She’s a St.
John.”

“I am also a de
Gare,” Gaithlin said, with more courage. “My heritage is de Gare. Who are you
and why do you ask such things?”

The big blond man
climbed off his horse, looking over at Alicia and the rest of the de Gare
soldiers, now surrounded by a host of burly Scotsmen.
 
He approached Gaithlin, throwing a finger at
Malcolm as he came close.

“Ye’re a brave
lad,” he said. “What are ye doin’ with her? She’s not Scots.”

Malcolm was
confused by the question.
  
He looked at
Gaithlin as if she could clarify what, in fact, he was doing with her.
 
But Gaithlin looked just as perplexed as he
did.

“I was alone in th’
Wood,” Malcolm said hesitantly. “The lady and her husband came and took care o’
me. They gave me lots tae eat and a place tae sleep.
 
I… I’ll protect her, do ye hear? I wunna let
ye hurt her.”

The Scotsman looked
at Gaithlin. “Where is yer husband?”

Gaithlin’s features
took on a great deal of distress. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer the
question. “It is none of your affair.”

“It
is
my affair because ye’re on me lands.”

An inkling of
understanding came to Gaithlin’s mind as to who these men possibly were.
Ye’re on me lands
. These were Douglas
lands. Could it be…?

“His family took
him away,” she said after a moment, hoping it was the right thing to say. “We
came here… oh, it does not matter why we came here, but I must leave right
away.
 
My husband’s life is in danger.
Please let us go.”

“What do ye mean
his family took him away? Where did they take him?”

Gaithlin didn’t
have time to explain but she knew she had to.
 
She thought perhaps being completely truthful might help these Scotsmen
understand that her need was urgent. Still, she was frightened of them; there
were a great many of them and if she had to battle the Scots, it would delay
assisting Christian. She couldn’t let that happen.

“They took him back
to England,” she said, eyeing the Scotsmen around her. “Now, you will tell me
why you are here? We have nothing of value if you think to steal from us.
 
We simply want to go in peace.”

The big Scotsman
scratched as his neck, a casual gesture as he surveyed the situation
again.
 
His gaze moved over the neat
clearing, the cooking fire casting warm golden light against the darkness, and
finally the sod house.
 
He gestured at
it.

“Ye’re Lady St.
John?” he asked. “Have ye been livin’ in that house?”

“Aye.”

“Yer husband is
Christian St. John.”

Gaithlin nodded
slowly. “He is,” she replied. “And you are a Douglas?”

The Scotsman fixed
her in the eye. “I am
the
Douglas,”
he said. “Yer husband sent a missive tae me and asked me tae send it on tae his
father.
 
Now ye say his father has come
tae take him back to Eden?”

His answer
confirmed to Gaithlin who these men were and she nearly collapsed with
relief.
 
In fact, tears sprang to her
eyes. “My great-grandmother was Calandra Douglas, daughter of Alan Douglas,”
she said, pointing to her mother several dozen feet away.
 
“That is my mother, Calandra’s granddaughter.
Calandra was part of your clan long ago before she married into the Percy
family.
 
We are your kin.”

Roger’s gaze moved
to Alicia, dressed as a knight.
 
He eyed
her strange dress but said nothing about it.
 
He turned back at Gaithlin. “Ye said yer name
was de Gare,” he said.