Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (33 page)

Cade scratched his head; he had a
lot to absorb in his eleven year old brain but, the more he thought on it, the
less distress he felt. In fact, he was feeling somewhat pleased and overwhelmed
at the moment.  He could hardly believe any of it but there was something deep
inside of him, afraid yet excited, resistant yet not.  He had always wondered
what it would be like to have a mother and father. He was shocked that he was
actually going to find out.

“You are a baron, my lord?” he
asked.

Stephen nodded. “I am,” he
replied. “At such time as you return to Ettrick Castle to foster, it will be as
the son of Baron Lamberton. Does this displease you?”

Cade shook his head. “Nay, my
lord.”

“Will you stay with your mother
for a time and come to know her before you return?”

Cade turned to look at Joselyn
again, who was smiling faintly at him. He stared at her, nodding after a
moment, before turning back to Stephen.

“Who was the knight that
retrieved me from Ettrick?” he wanted to know.

Stephen lifted an eyebrow,
putting a massive hand on the lad’s shoulder. “That,” he said, “was the Earl of
Carlisle and half-brother to King Edward.”

Cade’s mouth popped open; as a
boy, he was understandably impressed by men with titles and weapons. “You are
his vassal?”

“And his friend.”

Cade’s young face suddenly lit
up.  “You are so rich and powerful, my lord?”

Stephen laughed softly, turning
the boy in Joselyn’s direction. “No more than anyone else, lad,” he said. “I
have duties to attend to.  Will you watch over your mother while I am gone? It
would be a good time to come to know her.”

Cade nodded, setting his satchel
to the ground and hunting for a place to sit.  Joselyn watched the boy,
memorizing every line of his face and every lock of hair. She was still dazed
by his appearance, as if she was living a dream, but it was a dream well worth
living. She wanted desperately to know her son and watching him interact with
Stephen, and the way Stephen had handled the boy, had touched her deeply.

“Are you hungry, Cade?” she
asked. “There is much food in the great hall.”

Cade nodded. “Aye, my lady. I
could eat.”         

She stood up. “Come along, then.
I will also take you to the kitchens were my fawn is. Would you like to see
him?”

“You have a fawn?”

“I do.”

“But how did you catch him?”

Stephen stood out of the way as
she opened the door, leading the young man from the room. “His mother was
killed so I took him,” she said, passing by her husband as she spoke to her
son. “Do you like sweet cakes?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “I do, my
lady.”

“If my husband has left any
untouched, I shall be happy to feed them to you.”

Stephen grinned, watching the two
of them walk from the keep, wondering how long it was going to be before Cade
grew a round belly with all of the sweet cakes Joselyn would undoubtedly feed
him.  Still, he was relieved and pleased to see that they were at least getting
along after their uncertain beginning. He could not have hoped for better. 

As he walked out of the keep
behind them, he didn’t miss when Joselyn turned around and blew him a kiss.  He
winked in response.  He stood there a moment, watching them walk towards the
hall, touched when Joselyn slipped her hand into the crook of Cade’s arm and
the boy didn’t back away.  He looked a little surprised, but didn’t pull away.
When they disappeared into the warmly lit great hall, Stephen gazed up into the
starry night, silently thanking God for the appearance of Cade Alexander
Pembury.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kenneth was a man with a plan. 

He had been in the hall with Tate
when Lady Pembury had returned with a young man who was about her size and
looked a great deal like her.   Kenneth and Tate had vacated the table when the
boy arrived so that Joselyn could have some private time with him.  But they
left for another reason as well; they wanted to continue their conversation in
confidence.

The night was mild, a blanket of
stars blazing across the dark sky.  Kenneth and Tate crossed the bailey towards
the gatehouse, noting the enormous form of Stephen on the parapet next to the
gatehouse.  He was in conference with several soldiers.  Tate’s dark eyes
lingered on Stephen, silhouetted against the night sky.

“Are you sure that you do not
want to tell him?” he asked.

Kenneth shook his head. “He is
too emotionally involved in his personal life right now,” he replied. “He is
not thinking clearly.”

Tate grunted in disagreement.
“His decisions have been flawless since assuming this post, Ken.”

Kenneth came to a halt, crossing
his massive arms and casting a distracted eye out over the bailey. It was clear
that he was somewhat edgy, with much on his mind. “I am suggesting we release
MacKenzie so the man can lead us back to the rebels,” he said in a low voice.
“The man is useless in the vault. Something has to be done because as it is,
Berwick is a target waiting for an attack.  It is my sense that the rebels are
building but Stephen does not seem to think this is so.”

Tate watched Kenneth’s body
language; he was tense, highly unusual for the man who was consummately cool
even in the heat of battle.

“He trusts you,” Tate replied
evenly. “He has already told me that he is sending Joselyn back to Forestburn
with me come the morrow. I would say that is a strong indication that he is
listening to you. So why not tell him what you wish to do with his prisoner?”

Kenneth looked at him, then.  He
fell silent a moment as he contemplated his answer, a cautious answer that
could be construed as disloyal. He wanted to be very careful in his words.

“Stephen’s wife is Scots,” he
said carefully. “Until two weeks ago, she was the daughter of the enemy. Then
she became Stephen’s forced bride.”

Tate’s brow furrowed. “True,” he
replied. “But they are deeply in love with each other, Ken. What are you
driving at?”

Kenneth lifted his big shoulders.
“I am saying that one does not change life-long loyalties in a matter of days,”
he replied quietly. “But I cannot tell Stephen that; he loves and undoubtedly
trusts the woman. But I do not know her and what’s more, I do not by nature
trust her.  She is Scots. It is an unfortunate fact that what Stephen knows,
his wife probably knows.  If Stephen knows that we are releasing Kynan, then
his wife will know it.”

Tate could understand his concern
but he did not agree. “Are you saying that she is somehow feeding information
to the rebels?”

“It is a distinct possibility.”

Tate shook his head. “I have come
to know the woman as well, Ken. She is not a traitor. When she married Stephen,
she became loyal to her husband.”

Kenneth’s ice-blue eyes glimmered
weakly in the moonlight as he regarded his liege and friend. “I understand she
attempted to escape more than a week ago.”

Tate saw where he was leading and
he sighed faintly, conceding the point. “She did make an attempt.”

“What did she tell Stephen of her
reasons for attempting to escape?”

Tate licked his lips as he turned
away, unable to look Kenneth in the eye. “She told him that she was seeking the
rebels so that she could discover their plan and tell Stephen.”

Kenneth lifted an eyebrow. “And
he believed her?”

Tate nodded slowly, looking at
his boots. “He did.”

“Do you know her well enough to
know that she was telling the truth?”

Tate just looked at him. After a
moment, he simply shook his head and looked back at his feet. He couldn’t
answer. Kenneth sighed heavily.

“You know that Stephen is closer
than a brother to me,” he lowered his voice. “I would lay down my life for the
man. But as he is deeply in love with his new wife who happens to be the
daughter of the man who led Berwick’s defenses against Edward, I fear that he
is not thinking clearly.  As strong as Stephen is, as powerful a warrior, it appears
that there is one weak link in the defense of Berwick and it happens to be
Stephen of Pembury.”

“Because of his unabashed love
for his wife.”

“It blinds him to the fact that
she is the enemy. She could be closer to the rebels than Kynan is for all we
know.  The night she escaped Berwick, who is to say that she was not going to
tell the Scots all she knew from the mouth of Pembury himself?”

Tate knew he made complete, utter
sense but it was difficult for him to fully agree with him.  Joselyn Seton did
not seem the treacherous type. But, then again, sometimes devils were disguised
as angels.  He didn’t know what to think.

“You told Stephen that he must
remove his wife because you believed there was an imminent attack,” he finally
said. “Is this true? Or are you simply trying to remove Joselyn out of Berwick
to separate her from the rebellion?”

“Both,” Kenneth said honestly.
“And I am also hoping that if she is removed, Stephen will stop seeing the
situation through the eyes of a besotted lover.”

They didn’t say anything to each
other for quite some time, each man lost to his thoughts. The night above was
still and dark as night birds sang in the distance and sentries went about
their rounds on the parapets above. Finally, Tate spoke.

“You will tell Stephen of your
reasons for wanting to release MacKenzie but make no mention of your suspicions
of Joselyn,” he said in a tone that suggested it was a command. “I suspect if
you do, it will ruin your friendship with the man.”

Kenneth nodded, understanding the
delicate nature of the situation. “I would never tell him my suspicions. What I
have said is between you and me alone. Moreover, I would not hurt Stephen in
such a manner. I would as soon cut out my tongue.  But I have the advantage of
seeing the situation without emotional bias.”

Tate knew that; they were all
treading on thin ice. “I will take Joselyn with me to Forestburn on the morrow
and we shall see if the situation at Berwick takes a turn for the worst.”

“I sincerely hope not. I hope I
am wrong, on all accounts, but I cannot help my natural suspicion.”

“I know.” Tate glanced up, seeing
Stephen above; the man spotted them both and was heading in their direction.
“Stephen is coming. Prepare carefully what you will tell him.”

Kenneth nodded, watching Tate turn
on his heel and head off into the darkness.  With a deep breath, he turned to
face Stephen as the man emerged from the gatehouse stairwell.  Gazing into the
familiar face of the man he loved like a brother, he prayed he was wrong.

About everything.

***

Joselyn had been weeping most of
the night and when she was not weeping, she was sleeping fitfully. She didn’t
want to leave Berwick, or Stephen, and was very vocal about it. When dawn began
to approach and the eastern sky took on purple hues, Stephen had her up and
into a bath while Tilda and Mereld packed three large trunks with her new
garments and possessions.

But the bath was not soothing her
in the least. Joselyn had worked herself up into such a state that she felt
faint and dizzy, and ended up back in bed wrapped in a soft linen shift with
long belled sleeves and a hemline that dragged the floor when she walked.
Stephen tried to coax some food into her but she couldn’t eat. She would not
even drink.  She simply lay there with her arm over her eyes as Stephen sat on
the bed next to her and held her hand.

Down in the bailey, sounds of de
Lara’s party as they prepared for the return to Forestburn echoed against the
stone. Stephen could hear them.   As the day began to deepen, he finally sent
for soldiers to take Joselyn’s trunks down to the bailey and sent the two old
maids to pack their own possessions.  He would send them with his wife so she
had people of comfort around her.  But Joselyn was still feeling horrible,
eventually curled up on her side and dozing heavily.   Stephen was torn about
sending her on to Forestburn in this condition but he suspected most of it was
in her mind.  She had worked herself up a great deal.

“Jo-Jo,” he stroked her dark
hair. “Sweetheart, you must finish dressing. You have a long journey before you
and you cannot hold up de Lara’s return more than you are doing.”