Breath of Heaven (23 page)

R
hys stared up at the walls of Chasmore as he slowed Yorath to a cooling walk. He was too late. Vannoy was safely inside with Eliane as his prisoner. Rhys’s eyes darted around the walls and towers, looking for any sign of weakness. There was none that he could see. He raised a hand to push his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and could not help thinking of Eliane’s touch. She would push it back for him when it fell in his eyes. It always made him feel like a small boy when she did so. A small boy who had someone to care for him as his grandmother never did. It made him want to be a better man.
I must save her
…

Rhys patted the neck of his stallion in gratitude. Yorath was in much worse shape than he. Only the horse’s great heart and love for his master had kept him going. Vannoy’s horse had not fared so well. Rhys had come across the dying animal in the early morning hours and had mercifully cut its throat. Then he found the dead body of a merchant and knew that Vannoy had found another animal to take them onward.

“She is mine, de Remy!” Vannoy stood on the castle wall, surrounded by archers. “You are too late!”

“The king gave his blessing to our marriage, Vannoy!” He rode closer to the walls, daring the archers to shoot. “Are you willing to commit treason to have her? Let her go and we shall not speak of this again.”

“It’s too late for that,” Vannoy said. “The king told me of his blessing. Why do you think he did that?”

“Because he wants me to kill you.” Rhys did not have to raise his voice. He dismounted, pulled out his sword, and slapped Yorath on the flank to send him safely away. The horse stumbled off to the shelter of an oak tree. It was well out of reach of arrows, and a tiny stream ran by it. Rhys heard the horse bury his head in the stream and his own thirst haunted him. But he could not drink or eat or rest until he saw Eliane.

He gripped his sword and wished for his shield. “And kill you I will.”

Vannoy spread his arms as if he were a willing target.

“Come out and face me with honor instead of hiding behind castle walls and the skirts of women.” How did one fight a coward? Rhys’s frustration and rage grew until he feared they would overtake him. He must not let them. He must remain clearheaded and calm before his enemy.

“Funny. My dear Eliane said the same thing.” Vannoy baited him. He wanted Rhys to be foolish and hasty. He could not rise to the bait.

“She well knows your affinity for attacking the innocent. Puppies, boys, and pregnant women. Your courage is boundless.”

Vannoy crossed his arms and tilted his head as if he could look into Rhys’s mind. “It gladdens me to know I was the topic of so many conversations. Mayhap Eliane and I can return the favor.”

“You. Will. Not. Have. Her.” The words echoed off the walls.

“Yet I do.” Vannoy turned and walked away, leaving
Rhys to stare in frustration at the dozen arrows that landed in the dirt before him.

Eliane could see the forest. It called to her. Tears rolled from her eyes as she stood in the high tower room that imprisoned her and gazed at the land that was in her blood. She felt her hope leaving her with each tear that she shed. Rhys had not stopped Vannoy.

Did he even come?
Was he grateful to be rid of her? Her courage, so strong during the journey, left her and doubts filled her mind. Her hand went to her finger, but the ring was gone. All that remained was a white band where the ring had blocked the sun. How long before it was nothing more than a memory?

Her back clenched. The burden of the child was heavy. The hard and torturous journey had taken its toll. The babe would be born soon and there was nothing she could do to stop it, just as there was nothing she could do to keep Vannoy from killing the babe once it came.

A middle-aged woman brought her some food, a pail of water for washing and a fairly clean gown. Eliane tried to speak to her, but the woman covered her mouth and shook her head. She was mute and her eyes told the story of years of terror and mistreatment. This woman would not help her; nor would the guard at her door.

All was lost…At least she had the small knife, now hidden beneath her mattress. If the need came, she would use it on herself. Vannoy had told her of his plans for her. Starting with her ears.

“You. Will. Not. Have. Her.” The shout echoed against the stone and she turned to the narrow arrow
slit that faced the castle gate. In the distance beneath a tree she saw Yorath.

“Rhys…”

He had come. She saw him, standing on the pathway to the gate with his broadsword in his hand. He was alone. He must have ridden through the night, just as Vannoy had.

From the shouts within the keep, she knew Vannoy was on his way to her. He would use her to bait Rhys. She had to make her move now, before the birth pains got worse.

She grabbed up the knife from its hiding place and put it in her sleeve. She moved to the table where other weapons would be readily available. A candlestick, the platter from her meal, even a small stool.

Vannoy burst through the door. The portal swung back and remained open. Eliane flicked her eyes over it, deciding whether she could make a run for it. She crossed her arms over her stomach as he came near, as much to protect the babe as to conceal the knife.

“Your
husband
seems to think that he can command
me
within my own keep,” he said, sneering.

“My
husband
seeks to protect me as I am
his
wife.”

“He will not want you for his wife when I am through with you.”

“No wonder you are without a wife of your own.” Eliane sneered. “Your words of courtship are enough to make any woman scream and run as far away from you as she can get.”

He grabbed her neck so that he could turn her head to look at him. “Oh, I promise you will scream. They all scream.”

Eliane sought the knife in her sleeve. “You disgust
me.” She hoped his anger would distract him. Her words had the desired effect. He raised his hand to strike her and she used his movement against him, pulling the knife and slashing it across his upper arm. She let the impetous of her motion carry her toward the door. Vannoy caught her hair in his fist and brought her up short. Without a thought Eliane twisted and slashed at her hair with the knife, cutting the braid from her head. She kept moving and stumbled through the door, burying her knife in the guard’s neck. She was going down the curving steps when another pain wrenched her and she slipped in the sudden rush of water that poured from her womb. She managed to grab on to a sconce mounted in the wall to keep from falling, but the delay gave Vannoy enough time to catch her.

He wrapped his hand in what was left of her hair and pulled her back. Another pain grabbed her spine.

“The babe is coming,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

Vannoy pitched her back into the chamber. “Good,” he said. “I will tell your
husband
to prepare the grave. He can bury his brat next to your father.”

Eliane fell across the bed. “Send for a midwife or I will not survive the birth.”

“Oh, do not worry.” He stood at the door. “You will have the best of care.”

Eliane put her face in her hands as she curled onto the bed. Her hair, now shorn, fell in curls about her face and brushed her shoulders. She heard the bar slam across the door and knew she would not have another chance.

“If only I had told Rhys I love him,” she said.

There was no one to hear her words.

Han, Ammon the stable boy, and fifty men-at-arms joined Rhys beneath the oak tree.

“Rest assured, the forest is full of huntsmen, just waiting for our signal,” Han informed Rhys.

Rhys nodded grimly and looked at the odd collection of armor that Ammon wore.

“She is not only milady, she is my friend,” he said simply.

Rhys placed a hand on Ammon’s bony shoulder. “I thank you.”

“I will get my thanks from Eliane when we remove her from this place,” Ammon said firmly.

The neighing of the horses alerted Rhys to more men coming. Cedric and his men-at-arms. Cedric drove a wagon with Khati sitting on the bench beside him. Mathias lay in the back with Llyr, their wounds carefully wrapped with bandages. The dog weakly thumped his tail when Rhys laid a hand upon his huge head.

“They would not stay behind,” Cedric said.

“It seems as if I am besieged with those who care more for their lady’s well-being than their own lives,” Rhys observed as Cedric quickly went about the work of setting up camp. Khati carefully laid out Eliane’s stash of weapons and picked up the short sword as if she would wield it herself. “The only one missing is Madwyn.”

Han stood beside him, observing all in his quiet way. He wore his wool cap as usual, yet the heat of the
day seemed not to bother him in the least. “Madwyn tends to a birthing. She will be here when it is over.”

Rhys looked at the castle before him. Somewhere within was Eliane. How had she fared during the trip? Surely not well. It would suit Vannoy’s intent if she went into labor and lost the babe.

Rhys desperately needed some sign of her. He needed to know that she was still alive, that there was still hope.

“De Remy!” Vannoy once more stood on the wall, only this time he was alone. There were no archers, no men-at-arms, only the man, holding a piece of white linen in one hand and what appeared to be a brown rope in the other. His upper arm was wrapped in a bandage, and Rhys could not help smiling.

“Eliane’s work, no doubt,” he said to Han, who nodded in agreement.

Vannoy waved the white linen and shouted once more. “A truce. For your lady.”

“I can have the archers take him,” Han murmured in his ear.

“Until we know Eliane is safe, we will do nothing,” Rhys instructed. “I do not put it past him to hold a knife at her throat.” He mounted Yorath. “Stay your hand until I have proof she is safe.”

Rhys rode to the castle wall. Never, in all the battles he’d fought, had he felt such fear. How was she? He needed to see her face. He needed to know that she was, for the moment, unharmed. He needed her to know that he was here for her. That he would lay down his life to save her. He needed her to know that he loved her.

I should have told her before
…

“Do you surrender?” he asked Vannoy. He stopped before the wall, close enough that Vannoy could see the threat in his eyes.

“It seems that I have need of a midwife.”

Rhys’s heart jumped into his throat. He swallowed determinedly. He would not show fear to his enemy. It would only give Vannoy a measure of victory.

“Don’t bother with your threats,” Vannoy said when Rhys did not answer him. “I have heard them all. Your bastard is on its way. It is my desire that my sweet Eliane survive the birth, so that she can bear my child. Send in a midwife. I promise I will not kill her.”

“I will send for one, if I can find any willing to enter.” He knew Madwyn would gladly go in. But would Vannoy recognize her and know of her devotion to Eliane?

“As a promise for the midwife’s safety, I send this token from your wife,” Vannoy added. “She gave it up willingly.” He pitched the rope over the wall and Rhys snatched it from the air.

It took a moment for him to realize what it was he held.
Her hair
…He knew the look he turned up to Vannoy was frightful. He could not control his face any more than he could control the pounding in his veins or the red haze that covered his eyes.

“Consider it the first of many pieces I will slowly return to you.” Vannoy left the wall.

As Rhys turned and rode away, he held her hair to his face and inhaled her scent. The braid quickly grew damp with his tears.

D
usk settled around the keep. From her tower, Eliane saw the fires of Rhys’s camp as she paced about the room with her hands fisted against her back. The spasms were coming closer and closer together and she was trapped with no creature comforts except for a bit of water left in the pail. There wasn’t even a candle to relieve the darkness of her prison. She had only the pain of the coming babe to keep her company.

She was so alone. Never had she felt this way. Was this what it had been like for Rhys as a boy? To have no one? Another contraction gripped her and she leaned against the wall, her hand braced against the arrow slit, her eyes on the camp below, hoping for some sign of Rhys. She’d kept quiet so far, but this pain was worse, and it finally tore a cry from her lips.

She leaned her head into the slit, hoping for a cool breeze to ease her. She caught a movement beneath the great oak tree and saw two tall forms step away from it and gaze toward the castle. The light of the full moon shone upon them and she quickly recognized Rhys. The taller form beside him was Han. She kept her eyes on Rhys, as if she could draw strength from him, until another spasm racked her body and sent her to her knees with the pain. When it passed she collapsed to the floor and lay there, letting the coolness of the stone soothe her.

A noise made her stir and she pushed against the floor to sit against the wall as she gathered her strength for the next contraction. A movement caught her eye, a flutter, and then she found herself staring into the great golden eyes of Madwyn’s owl. It blinked, hopped to her outstretched arm, and bent its beak to touch its leg. There was a small piece of rolled parchment tied there with a piece of string.

Eliane’s hands shook as she took the parchment and held it up to the shaft of moonlight that came into her chamber.
Be strong. I am coming.
There was no name, nor was there need for one. Madwyn would come. It also meant that Rhys had a plan for her release.

The owl hopped to the arrow slit and Eliane struggled to her feet. As the owl left, she saw Rhys and Han both follow its flight. They wanted to know where she was, and the owl showed them. Rhys stepped forward and stared up at her tower. She waved and was gladdened to see him raise his hand. He turned toward the path that led to the gate and she saw a bent figure wearing a heavy cloak and carrying a large basket. The woman limped heavily while using a stout stick for support. Eliane sank to the floor. Madwyn was coming.

The woman who entered her chamber was an old crone, with a humped back and gnarled hands. The serving woman who came with her was the one who could not speak. She carried two pails of water and a bundle of cloths. She set the things down, drew a candle from her pocket and placed it in the candlestick, then scurried out. Once more the bar was thrown over the door, leaving Eliane alone with the crone.

She sat on the floor and watched as the crone put down her basket and lit the candle. As she turned to
look at Eliane, she threw off her cloak and her body straightened. Gone was the crone, replaced by Madwyn. The hump on her back was Eliane’s bow and quiver.

“How did you do it?” Eliane gasped at the sudden change in her appearance.

“The fools see what they want to see.” Madwyn gathered Eliane into her arms and another contraction took her.

“ ’Tis too soon,” Eliane cried.

“Just a few weeks,” Madwyn soothed. She ran her hand over Eliane’s shorn hair. “The fool will pay for this among other things.”

Eliane shook her head. “I did it. He held me by my braid, so I cut if off to escape.” She let the sobs come.

“Poor child of mine. So brave,” Madwyn cooed.

“I don’t want the babe to come,” Eliane cried. “He will kill her.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Then you must do as I say and trust that all will be well in the end.” Madwyn pulled Eliane to her feet and guided her to the bed. She removed the bow and quiver and shoved it beneath. “Let us take care of the babe,” she said as she wiped the sweat from Eliane’s brow. “Then we will take care of the rest.”

Rhys kept his eyes on the tower. Now that he knew where she was, he felt a bit better, but not much. The babe was coming, and coming soon. Her cries rent the night air, causing him to wonder. How could something so wondrous cause so much pain? It was if she were being ripped into halves, and in a way she was. A
piece of her, a piece of him, was becoming whole unto itself. A daughter was coming into this world.

“Please, God.” He fingered the cross around his neck. “Let the plan work.” It was dangerous. Especially for Eliane and Madwyn. But it was the only way. Their only chance.

A scream echoed off the walls.

“It will be soon,” Han said. His pale blue eyes were fixed on the tower also.

Something bumped Rhys’s hand and he saw Llyr, trembling beside him. Rhys blinked as if awakened from a deep sleep. He had not realized that everyone watched and waited with him. Khati, Cedric, Ammon, even Mathias, although he sat on a stool. The boy’s face was pale in the coming dawn.

Behind them was nothing but silence. The men-at-arms were silent. Even the horses made no sound as they grazed behind the camp on Vannoy’s grass.

Llyr whined and sniffed at the braid that Rhys wore wrapped about his waist. Rhys knelt beside him. He put his arm around the beast. There was another scream and Llyr tried to move forward. Rhys held him back. A shadow moved across the light in the tower room, and Rhys felt his body tense. He waited.

There was nothing. No sound, no word, not even the sounds of the night came to him. There was nothing but the small light that shone from the arrow slit above.

“It will soon be upon us,” Han said. “You should rest.”

Rhys did not hear him.

Madwyn stood with her back to Eliane. She held the babe in her arms. “Let me see,” Eliane said. She felt as
if she’d been torn asunder, yet she felt the relief of having completed a long journey. Her reward was within reach, yet Madwyn held it from her.

Madwyn shook her head. There was no sound from the babe. Why did it not cry out? Was that not the way of things?

Madwyn cleaned the babe and wrapped it in a square of linen. She placed it in the basket, then turned to Eliane.

“I want to see.”

“Let me cleanse you first,” Madwyn said. She washed Eliane’s body and placed a kirtle on her. One of the ones left at Aubregate when Eliane went to London.

“Why doesn’t she cry?”

“She is as tired as you are. There isn’t much time. Vannoy will come as soon as he wakens. You must rest for what will happen next.”

“Let me hold her.”

Madwyn nodded. She went to the basket, moved things from within it while she held the babe. She kept her back to Eliane and still there was no sound.

“Let me see her,” Eliane asked again.

Madwyn turned with the babe in her arms. “I am sorry, Eliane. It was too soon. She did not survive.”

It was as if time stopped. When did Madwyn put the babe in her arms? When did she put on her cloak and pick up her basket? When did she turn once more into the old crone?

Eliane pushed back the blanket. The infant was tiny, yet perfectly formed, with delicate fingers and tiny nails. Her hair was dark and heavy on her brow. Her skin was so very cold and looked blue in the candlelight.

Eliane heard the bar being lifted from the door.

“Eliane. Look at me,” Madwyn said.

Eliane tore her eyes from her daughter and stared into the face shadowed within the cloak.

“Be strong. It all depends upon you.” Madwyn faded into the shadows behind the door.

Eliane nodded. This was her only chance. She must be ready, no matter that her heart was breaking. Mayhap it was better this way. Vannoy could not touch her daughter now. He would not have the joy of killing her.

Vannoy loomed over her. “I see she looks like her father,” he said.

“You cannot hurt her.” Eliane painfully rose from the bed, keeping it between them. “She is dead.” Eliane wrapped the babe up and held her close.

Vannoy shrugged. “How disappointing for both of us,” he said. “Still, de Remy does not know it. She can still serve my purpose.” He made a move to take the child and Eliane turned and held her tighter. “Give her to me now,” he said. “Or I will kill the midwife.”

“Oh no, sir, please,” the crone cried out as she bowed and bobbed before him. “I have done as ye asked.” She looked at Eliane. “I am sorry, milady. It was too soon. Too soon.” She said it over and over again and rocked as she repeated the words.

“What will you do with my babe?”

“I will return her to her father,” Vannoy said. He held out his hands and bared his teeth in what he thought was a smile. Eliane looked at Madwyn, who still rocked and moaned as if her life depended upon it. It did. Eliane had no choice but to hand over the body of her daughter.

Vannoy looked at the babe closely as if he did not believe she was really dead. He lifted her by the arm and shook her roughly. Eliane wanted to shriek and cry at the abuse, but she remained quiet. She knew her protests would only encourage him.

“Is your job here done?” he asked the crone.

“Yes, milord, yes. I pray thee, sir, ye must give milady time to heal lest she take the sickness and die.”

“How much time?” Vannoy’s eyes upon Eliane were calculating.

“Until the moon is full again,” the crone said.

“You may go,” he said. “The man who summoned you will pay you.”

The crone looked at Eliane and gave her a slight smile.

“Tell my husband that I would name her Arden, after my mother,” Eliane said. Tears welled and she quickly dashed them away. “Tell him to baptize her with that name.”

The crone nodded and left. Vannoy followed with the body of her daughter, and the bar slid home, once again leaving Eliane alone with nothing but her tears.

Rhys held his breath as Madwyn made her slow and painful way from the gate. The transformation was amazing. Just by wearing her cloak and adjusting her stance, she gave the illusion of age and a broken and twisted body. As she approached the trees, he and Han went out to escort her into the shelter of the camp. Han took the heavy basket from her as she threw back her hood and once again became the elegant and graceful lady of the forest.

“Hurry,” she said. “He will need milk.”

“He?” Rhys asked.

She lifted the babe from the basket and it stirred. “Fetch the woman. She may still give life to this child.” She turned to Rhys and placed the babe in his startled arms. “You have a son, milord. I would not have believed it had I not seen him come forth from Eliane’s womb.”

Rhys looked down at the thatch of bright red hair over the tiny face while Madwyn adjusted his arms to better hold the babe. Tiny fists jerked and the arms and legs stretched. The eyes opened and stared at him with a deep intensity that reminded him of Eliane’s emerald gaze; then the babe turned his head and with mouth open nudged the armor covering Rhy’s chest. Rhys touched his finger to the tiny shell of his ear. It was rounded and quite normal looking.

“A son?” He looked at Madwyn with disbelief. “Eliane?”

“She is strong. She thinks the babe dead. I could not tell her otherwise, lest her hope give away our plan.”

“Will she fight?”

“She will fight.”

A young woman came forth. She was quite small, had long dark hair and great dark circles beneath her eyes. “This is Jodhi. It was her daughter who died and is sacrificed to Vannoy. She will nurse your son until his mother may do so.”

Rhys placed his son into her willing arms. “You will never want for anything as long as you live,” he promised her.

Jodhi dipped her head and gave him a sad smile. “My husband will fight for our lady,” she said, and left with his son.

The top of the sun appeared among the trees to the east. Day was upon them. Rhys stepped out from the shelter of the oak once more and stared up at the tower room. If only he could see her.
A son…We have a son. There are only daughters born to the woman of Aubregate. Until now. Eliane
…

“De Remy!” Vannoy once more stood on the castle wall.

It was time.