Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (31 page)

At some point, Stephen
left Tate to see to things downstairs. Tate remained by the window as the snow
blew in, hitting him in the face as wind whipped it into whirlpools in the
bailey below. He could see nothing in the fields beyond Harbottle and only a
faint line in the distance as his army faded into the night. He knew they were
being watched by enemy eyes and his senses were highly attuned.

As Tate watched the
nightscape, Toby watched her husband. She inspected the broad lines of his body
and felt the power that seemed to radiate from him. It was like the first time
she had ever seen him, when the man was in pure battle mode. She was
apprehensive but would not let him know; he was edgy enough and she kept her
mouth shut, not wanting to distract him. So she amused herself with a stick,
using the ashes in the hearth as a drawing board. She drew flowers and birds
and animals with no distinct shape. When she tired of her drawings, she would
erase them and start again. It was a process that had been going on for hours.

“What are you doing?”
Tate looked away from the window. “I can hear scraping from where I am
standing.”

She smiled up at him,
sheepishly. “Drawing.”

He moved in her
direction and took a knee beside her, his mail grating as he moved. He grinned
at the half-erased bees and flowers. “You draw delightfully,” he said. “I am
sorry I do not have paint or parchment to offer you to stave off this boredom.”

She leaned her head
against his, resting the side of her head against his cheek. “I am not bored so
long as you are near,” she said. “I am sorry if my drawing bothers you.”

He kissed her forehead
and stood up. “It does not,” he said, his mailed hand on her back
affectionately.  “’Tis I who am sorry that I cannot offer you a fire.  But we
cannot chance that the smoke will be seen.”

She shook her head.
“You need not apologize. I am quite warm in my cloak.”

He touched her hair,
her cheek gently, before returning to the window. Outside, the storm was
lashing the sides of the keep and Toby rose from her chair, making her way to
Tate as he stood next to the window. She pressed up against his back and he
turned slightly, lifting an armored arm and putting it around her. Together,
they stood and watched the driving snow.

“Do you really think
we are being watched?” she asked softly.

He was standing to the
side of the window so that he could not be easily seen by prying eyes. “More
than likely.”

“By the same men who
burned Forestburn?”

He turned to look at
her, reading her fear. “Some of the same,” he turned her back towards the
chair. “Sit down, sweetheart, and away from the snow. You shall be in it soon
enough when we make our move.”

She let him put her in
the chair, watching him as he went back towards the window. “May I ask
something?”

“Of course.”

“When all of this is
over with, where shall we live?”

He leaned against the
wall, his gaze moving outside the window again. “Carlisle Castle, I suppose.
Why? Where do you want to live?”

She shrugged,
collecting her stick and resuming her drawing. “I have only lived at
Forestburn. I never thought I would ever leave.”

“And so you have,” he
winked at her when she turned to look at him. “I think you shall like Carlisle
Castle. It is a big place and quite comfortable.”

“Do you have other
castles?”

He nodded. “Aside from
Harbottle and Carlisle, I hold Grayson Castle, Whitehaven Castle and Kendal
Castle, all of them in Cumbria.”

“Are they beautiful?”

He shrugged. “Kendal
is small, but Grayson and Whitehaven are large and prosperous. Whitehaven is
particularly nice because it sits right on the sea. On a clear day, you can see
all the way to Ireland.”

She pursed her lips in
disbelief. “You cannot.”

His eyes twinkled. “I
have been told that by the locals.”

She shook her head to
let him know what she thought of that tale and looked back to her drawings. “Do
you think that Edward will let you rebuild Forestburn?”

His gaze lingered on
her. “Is that where you wish to live?”

She shrugged, still
drawing flowers. “Forestburn supports Cartingdon parish. I do not wish to see
it left to rot. I would like to rebuild it.”

He watched her lowered
head. “Then we shall rebuild it,” he said softly. “If that is your wish, I will
move heaven and earth to grant it.”

She looked up at him,
a timid smile on her lips. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“And when all of this
madness is finished, may we go to Paris and Rome?”

He laughed softly. “Anywhere
you wish, sweetheart.”

“I hear they have
spectacles of fighting in Rome and women who pierce their ears and paint their
faces.”

“You can find that
anywhere.”

“Really?” she was
genuinely surprised. “Have you seen this in other places?”

His grin broadened. “I
cannot tell you what I have seen in other places because you are a delicate
lady and such things are unseemly. Suffice it to say that the world is full of
debauchery.”

She formed an “O” with
her lips, thinking on all of the wild things she’d not been privy to living her
rather sheltered existence in Cartingdon. Tate snorted at her expression and
turned back to the window. 

“I was thinking
something else,” he ventured as a gust of wind blew snow into his face.

“What was that?”

“Well,” he wiped
snowflakes from his eyes. “I have a good deal of wealth and many holdings. It
is difficult to maintain and difficult to keep track of, considering I am
hardly in one place long enough to settle my accounts. I am thinking that you
would be the perfect person to manage my estates.”

She looked surprised.
“Me?”

“Of course. You made
Cartingdon what it is. I would have you do the same for my holdings. In fact,
if you can do for me what you did for your father, I would say that our
children will be extremely wealthy prospects to future mates.”

The potential of
managing Tate’s holdings did not displease her. In fact, she found it rather
exciting. “I would be honored,” she replied. “But are you sure you want your
wife managing your estates?”

“You and no other. You
are the only person I would trust.”

She dawdled in the
ash, thinking. “We could build an empire supporting the people and the land.”
She looked up at him. “Tell me more about Whitehaven. I am interested in the
castle that overlooks the sea.”

He shifted on his big
legs. “It sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I have only been there a few
times; it is a rather large place and the gulls from the sea are constantly
swarming over it. It holds about four hundred troops at any given time.”

She smiled. “I asked about
the castle, not its military might. How does it survive? Does it breed sheep?”

He shook his head.
“Cattle,” he replied. “Black and white herds; hundreds of them. The peasants
make their living off of the cattle.”

Her eyebrows lifted.
“Truly?” she cocked her head thoughtfully. “I do not know much about cattle but
I see that I shall have to learn. I think I might like to live at Whitehaven. I
would like to live by the sea.”

He just smiled at her,
returning his attention to the snow storm outside.  Suddenly, his smile
vanished; his eyes narrowed as he spied something beyond the window, the
expression on his face hardening in a flash. Toby still had her head lowered,
paying attention to her drawings, and did not see his body tense or his
countenance darken. When he suddenly moved away from the window and grasped her
arm, she was startled.

“What is wrong?” she
half-demanded, half-pleaded. “What are…?”

He put a finger to his
lips. “Come with me. Hurry.”

She dropped her stick
and scurried with him to the chamber door. By the time he hit the landing
outside, Kenneth was bolting up the stairs.

“Incoming riders,”
Kenneth said before Tate could say a word. “Looks like several.”

Tate thrust Toby at
Kenneth. “Take her,” he commanded. “Get her out of the keep. There is nowhere
to hide in here and I do not want her boxed in.”

Kenneth took Toby’s
arm without another word, helping her quickly navigate the deadly stairs. Tate
was right behind them.

“Where are you going?”
Kenneth asked.

“To get Edward,” Tate
replied, his gaze lingering on his wife, a strangely pained expression in his
eyes. “Kenneth will take good care of you, sweetheart. I must see to the king.”

Toby nodded quickly.
“I know,” she shoved at him. “Go, hurry. You must get Edward.”

He grasped her hand
and kissed it swiftly, disappearing into the dark hall.  Kenneth had hold of
Toby’s elbow, gently but firmly pulling her towards the entry.

“Come with me, Lady de
Lara,” he said, unslinging his crossbow as he opened the heavy oak panel. “Let
us see if we cannot find a safe hiding place for you.”

The snow was swirling
outside and it was nearly as dark as pitch. When he deemed the coast to be
clear, Kenneth took Toby down the rebuilt stairs and whisked her across the
bailey. The snow was so heavy that it was blinding and Toby kept a tight grip
on Kenneth as he led her through the maelstrom. When she finally opened her
eyes, she realized they were at the chapel. It gave her a moment of pause and
Kenneth felt her hesitation. When he looked at her and noted her reluctant
expression, he actually smiled at her. It was a forced smile, but a smile
nonetheless.

“Come along,” he said,
opening the panel into the black room. “We shall hide out in good company.”

With a deep breath for
courage, Toby stepped through. Kenneth followed and left the door half-opened
behind them. He did not shut it at all.

It was, literally, as
quiet as a tomb. It was also black and freezing. The only source of light was
from three lancet windows cut high into the wall, barely giving any illumination
to see by. But Kenneth would not risk a torch so he took Toby by the hand and
felt his way along the wall until they reached Ailsa’s fresh grave. He
carefully steered Toby around it and took her towards the altar.

The one feature that
the chapel had was that there was an alcove behind the altar for the priest. It
was shielded by a partial wall carved from oak, and very old.  A tiny door was
cut into the alcove that led through the exterior wall of the fortress and into
the stables. The theory was that the priest would arrive at the stables and
pass through the hidden passage, unseen and protected, to the chapel. Since it
had not been used in fifty years, the door that led into the stables was
blocked off with hay and other stable implements. It was into this passage that
Kenneth took Toby.

It was dark, dank and
bitterly cold in the tunnel. There was no light at all except for the small
door which Kenneth had cracked open. He crouched just inside the tunnel by the
door, his ears peaked and his knightly senses attuned. Toby sat on the ground
behind him, wrapped tightly in her cloak, and shivered.

“Why did you not shut
the door chapel door?” she whispered.

His ice-blue eyes were
riveted to the opening in the small doorway. “Because if they were to come upon
a closed, bolted door, they would assume there was something inside to be
protected,” he whispered in return. “By leaving the door open, they will assume
it is an abandoned room and not give it further thought.”

She nodded in
understanding, hunkering down beneath her cloak. It was bitterly cold and she
was beginning to wonder where Tate, and everyone else, had gone. She was
terribly worried about him and congratulated herself on being rather brave when
they had been separated. It had all happened so fast.  Now, reality was
beginning to set in and her apprehension was growing.

It wasn’t long before
they heard voices in the bailey. Horses snorted and there were sounds of
weapons moving about. Kenneth remained still as stone, listening to all that
was transpiring and the voices of the men as they began moving about the
bailey.  Someone gave the command to search the keep. Toby’s heart was pounding
in her ears as she heard voices from the bailey draw nearer.

She buried her face in
her cloak, praying that they would not be discovered.  Kenneth was so quiet
that she swore the man had turned to rock. She could not even hear him
breathing. Long minutes passed and they heard voices now and again, very faint,
as the intruders searched the grounds. Toby’s apprehension was reaching
splitting capacity and it was difficult to keep her breathing quiet. Her body
was quivering with fear and cold. 

Voices suddenly seemed
to be coming from the stables; they could hear them off to their left. Kenneth
finally moved from his stone-like position and slid past her, moving to the end
of the passage that butted up against the stables. He could hear better there.
From the sounds of it, it seemed as if they were on to something, or someone,
in the stalls. Toby was terrified that it was Tate.