Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (27 page)

Fortunately, July was a good
month to travel. No rain, no inclement weather, and he made good time. As he
reached the outskirts of Berwick, he could immediately see that the town was in
shambles.  Great sections of it were burned and as he rode deeper into the
town, he could see how destitute the people were.  It was just after the
nooning hour and the peasants eyed him suspiciously as he rode into town;
another English knight was not a welcome sight.  He passed children who were
sitting in the gutter weeping with hunger. It was a sobering sight.

Berwick Castle was on a hill by
the river, surrounded with massive walls.   As he neared the castle, he could
see the activity up on the battlements.  He could also see that the castle was
buttoned up tightly.  There was no moat, only sheer walls that towered over
head.  He came to a halt at the main gate, an opening with a massive iron gate
in front of a pair of massive wooden doors, and called up to the sentries. 
After he announced himself, the massive wooden doors, and the iron gate, were
eventually cranked open.

He guided his foaming charger
into the gatehouse, emerging into the dusty bailey.  It was an enormous area,
penned in by several towers, a hall off to the left and a keep to the right.  
He pulled his charger to a halt somewhere between the keep and the hall,
looking about his surroundings.  There were soldiers everywhere and a few
servants.  A young stable servant timidly approached to take the charger, who
snorted and snapped at the lad.  Kenneth dismounted stiffly, stretching his
muscular body as he reached into a saddle bag and pulled forth a muzzle. 
Muzzling the horse, he removed his bags and headed into the hall.

The great hall was empty,
surprising at the nooning hour.  Sitting at the massive, scrubbed table, he
tossed his bags onto the table surface and grumbled orders to the nearest
servant; the man was to bring him food and send for Pembury, in that order.   A
serving wench eventually brought him bread, cheese and wine and he tore into it
with gusto. He hadn’t eaten in over a day.  As he was downing the wine, a
familiar voice came from behind him.

“God’s Blood,” Stephen hissed.
“It is about time you got here.”

Kenneth turned around, the very
rare event of a smile on his lips. He stood up, taking Stephen’s outstretched
hand and shaking it longer than necessary. For a man who kept his emotions
buried deeper than most, it was a strong display of sentiment.

“You are looking well, Stephen,”
Kenneth said. “Perhaps older and fatter, but well.”

Stephen laughed. “Fatter, indeed.
When you discover what a fantastic cook my wife is, you’ll go to fat and do it
gladly.”

Kenneth displayed emotion for the
second time in as many seconds. “Wife?” he repeated, stunned. “What wife?”

Stephen sobered and let go of the
man’s hand, motioning for him to sit back down. “The Lady Joselyn de Velt Seton
Pembury,” he said. “She is the daughter of Alexander Seton, the Commander of
Berwick Castle until it fell to Edward.  At our king’s insistence, I married
her to cement England’s stake at Berwick.”

Kenneth nodded faintly in
understanding. “I see,” he was still rather shocked, studying Stephen’s
expression for any signs of distress. “You do not seem troubled by this.”

Stephen shook his head. “Not at
all,” he realized he was somewhat embarrassed to tell his friend the truth,
simply because they had always considered romantic love a fool’s emotion.  At
least, they had once. “You may as well know that I adore the woman. She is my
heart.”

Kenneth’s white eyebrows lifted.
“Is that so?”

“It is.”

Kenneth stared at him a moment,
still shocked, before finally shaking his head. “Then all I can say is
congratulations,” he said, shifting the subject because he was not sure what else
to say on the event of Stephen having taken a wife. “So why am I here?”

Stephen lowered himself onto the
bench beside him. “Much has happened since you and I last saw one another, but
the majority of it has happened within the last month,” he paused before he
started his story. “The siege of Berwick was brutal. Many died and the politics
of the story is something that will be told for hundreds of years to come.  It
was savage, even by our standards. My wife was wounded in an ambush ten days
ago; a fever still lingers within her and her health suffers.  Her cousin, one
of the leaders of the rebellion, is in the vault right now. We have been
plagued by raids and I believe this man holds the key towards ending them. I
have sent for you because my attention has been on my wife, as foolish as it
sounds. I have never been this close to a woman, Ken, much less love her, and
my attention is not on my post as Guardian Protector of Berwick.  I need your
wisdom, man. I need your sword and your good sense to help me discover the
source of these raids once and for all, for I find that my focus is not where
it should be. As long as Joselyn remains ill, I cannot think on anything else.
She consumes my being.”

Kenneth was gazing steadily at
him with no judgment in his expression. In fact, the usually ice-cold silver
eyes were oddly warm. 

“Then you did right to send for
me,” he said after a moment. “I was bored at Kirk, anyway. The Welsh are
behaving themselves for the moment and I was thinking on taking up sewing to
pass the time until I received your missive. Thank you for this opportunity to
reaffirm my manhood.”

It was the kindest possible way
to express what they both knew; Stephen was, for the first time in his life,
having a weak moment and Kenneth put a spin on the situation that allowed the
man to retain his dignity. Their friendship was that deep.  Stephen understood
this clearly, smiling weakly and clapping him on an enormous shoulder.

“I am indebted to you,” he said
quietly.

“Aye, you are, but someday I will
call you to help me quell the Welsh and you will rip them apart with your bare
hands,” Kenneth could see that Stephen needed reassurance that he was still the
most powerful knight in the realm. “There is no one fiercer in battle that you,
Pembury.  Even I am afraid of you.”

Stephen broke down into soft
laughter, prompting a grin from Kenneth.  Kenneth downed the last of his wine
as Stephen sobered and rose from the bench.

“You need to meet my wife,” he
said. “She knows you are here and if I do not bring you to her, she will come
down here herself.”

Kenneth rose. “Is she bedridden?”

Stephen shrugged as they made
their way out of the hall. “Not really,” he said. “At least, I cannot keep her
there. She gets up and walks around when I am not with her, so I have taken to
being with her nearly every moment.  She was struck by an arrow in the ambush
and poison still flows through her veins.  I cannot seem to cure her of it.”

Kenneth squinted as they emerged
into the sunny weather of the bailey. “Does she weaken?”

Stephen shook his head.
“Strangely, not much. She eats well and behaves rather normally, but the fever
is still there. Faint, but still there. I am afraid it will flare at some point
and overtake her if I cannot rid her of it.”

Kenneth could see how the mere
idea greatly distressed him. “If anyone can cure her, you can,” he said
confidently. “I have seen you raise the dead, Stephen.  Your skill is second
only to God himself.”

Stephen smiled faintly. “Let us
hope so.”

They crossed the keep in relative
silence as Kenneth looked around, acquainting himself with the place.  It was
big and functional.  The enormous keep loomed ahead and he gazed upward, sizing
up the structure.

“This is an impressive castle,”
he said. “And a most impressive title as Guardian Protector of Berwick. Where
is de Lara, by the way? I thought he was fighting with you.”

Stephen nodded as they entered
the dark, cool keep. “He left several days ago to run an errand to the Earl of
Buccleuch.  He shall return shortly.”

“What errand?”

“Bringing my wife’s son back to
Berwick.”

Kenneth peered oddly at him.
“Your wife’s son? She was married before?”

Stephen paused on the second
floor landing. “No,” he said quietly. “She was raped by an English soldier as a
very young girl. Her father sent the child away, naturally.  Tate has gone to
bring the child back.  It is a long story for another time, Ken, but trust me
when I say my wife has had a horrendous life.  Yet she is the sweetest, most
beautiful woman you have ever seen.  I am anxious for you to know her.”

Kenneth nodded faintly,
neutrally. “As I am anxious as well. If she is so important to you, then I
shall treat her with all due respect.”

Stephen grinned at him as they
took the stairs to the third floor. Reaching the door, he knocked softly.

“Jo-Jo?” he called. “May we come
in?”

The door quickly opened and
Kenneth was in for a shock.  Other than being oddly pale, an astoundingly
beautiful woman was standing in the doorway.  Clad in a stunning surcoat of
pale blue, she was a tiny little thing with pale blue eyes and luscious dark
hair.  She smiled at Stephen with her straight white teeth and dimpled cheeks
and Kenneth could see immediately why the man was so smitten with her. She was
spectacular.

Stephen took her hand and pulled
her against him, facing Kenneth as he did so.  “My lady,” he said. “This is my
closest friend, Sir Kenneth St. Hèver.  Ken, this is my wife, the Lady Joselyn
Pembury.”

Kenneth bowed graciously. “My
lady,” he greeted. “Stephen did not exaggerate about your beauty. You are
indeed the most beautiful woman in all of England.”

Joselyn chuckled softly. “You are
too kind, my lord,” she said in her deliciously sweet voice. “I am very pleased
to meet you. Welcome to Berwick Castle.”

“Thank you.”

She eyed her husband with
disapproval as she spoke.  “I apologize that I did not meet you in the great
hall and provide you with a satisfactory meal, but my husband is rather stingy
about that. He will only allow me out of this room once a day and I had to
choose - greeting you when you came or sharing the evening meal. I chose the
evening meal.”

Kenneth wriggled his eyebrows,
his gaze moving between Joselyn and Stephen. “I would have chosen the evening
meal as well, my lady.”

She smiled at him. “Will you at
least come in and sit? Let us become better acquainted.”

Stephen squeezed her gently. “He
did not come to stave off your boredom,” he scolded lightly. “He is here to
help me, remember? I must show him the castle. We have much to discuss and you
will see him tonight.”

She made a face at Stephen, one that
Kenneth found very charming and very funny. “Can I at least come and walk with
you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

With a growl, Stephen picked her
up and carried her back into the room, depositing her on the bed. “You will
stay here and rest,” he instructed firmly. “I will see you later.”

She
scrambled off the bed. “Stephen, I have been lying in bed all day. I feel fine.
Can I please come and walk with you and Sir Kenneth?”
      Stephen’s jaw ticked as he looked at Kenneth, pointing a finger at his
wife. “Do you see what I must deal with? She is as difficult as a spoiled
child.”

Kenneth fought off a grin. “Leave
me out of this. You will not like my response.”

Stephen pursed his lips at him.
“I already do not like your response, you traitor,” he turned back to Joselyn.
“Please, sweetheart. Stay here and we will return later. You must rest.”

Joselyn grabbed on to his arm and
refused to let go. “Please,” she begged softly. “Just five minutes. Let me walk
with you just five minutes. I promise I will not allow myself to become too
tired.”

He gazed down into her lovely
face, knowing he was going to relent no matter how much longer they debated the
subject. He had realized one thing very quickly in the early days of this
marriage; he would cave to her every desire with hardly a measure of
resistance.  He had been a slave to her for the past ten days, since she had
been injured, catering to her every request, small or large. But in truth, he
didn’t mind. He loved every minute of it.

“Very well,” he sighed with exasperation.
“But only five minutes. And if you argue, I shall not let you come outside for
a week. Are we clear?”

She smiled brightly at him and
patted his cheek. “Very clear, my angel.”

Stephen just rolled his eyes,
took her by the hand, and led her out of the chamber.  Kenneth preceded them
down the stairs and they ended up in the bailey.  Joselyn found herself between
the two enormous knights as she held on to Stephen with two hands, as if afraid
he was going to get away from her.

“Tell me, Sir Kenneth,” she
began. “Do you have a wife also?”

Kenneth shook his head. “I do
not, my lady.”

“Oh?” Joselyn looked up at him;
he was a brutally handsome man with his pale blond hair and white lashes.  He
had a square jaw and a very manly face in general. “I cannot believe some
deserving young woman has not snapped you up.  What is your background?”