Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (7 page)

Tears dripped from her chin and
onto the cranberry colored wool. “First my brothers, then my mother…,” she was
growing increasingly hysterical as she once again turned away from him. “And
now my father is gone. My family is destroyed. I have no one left.” 

Stephen didn’t know what to say
to that. She had every right to be distraught.  Not knowing what else to do, he
gave her a few moments of crying before reaching out and grasping her elbow
gently.

“Come along,” he said softly.
“You will feel better after you have eaten.”

She pulled her elbow away from
him, although it was not cruelly done. “Nay,” she breathed. “I… I am not
hungry. If you do not mind, I simply wish to be left in peace.”

Stephen watched as her small body
was wracked with sobs.  He was about to insist that she come to the hall and
eat, but he thought better of it.  The woman needed to deal with her grief in
her own way.

He left her without a word, his
heart heavy with sorrow for her. Somehow, between last night and this morning,
he was coming to feel a great deal of compassion for the woman. It was apparent
that Life had dealt her a bitter blow at a young age, which didn’t seem fair to
him. Certainly, most people had their share of hardships, but she seemed to
have more than most. 

As he crossed the bailey and
headed into the great hall where Edward and Tate were sitting near the blazing
hearth, he thought to take Joselyn some food so that she would have something
to eat if she became hungry.  Edward and Tate were discussing some future
strategy, acknowledging Stephen when he began gathering hunks of cheese and a
few apples.

“How is your wife?” Tate asked.

Stephen was picky with his apple
selection; he inspected each one closely before deciding. “She is rested but
understandably upset over the death of her mother and the departure of her
family.”

“Did you give her the garments
you bought?”

“I did. She looks marvelous.”

Edward elbowed Tate, grinning. “I
told you she was a lovely girl, Stephen,” the king said. “So now you agree with
me?”

Stephen looked at the young king.
“I never disagreed in the first place,” he replied, tucking the cheese and
apples into one hand and hunting for a nice piece of soft bread with the other.
“Wait until you see her this morning. She looks like a goddess.”

Tate just grinned and shook his
head. “It sounds as if you are not entirely displeased with your marriage,
then.”

Stephen shrugged. “Time will tell
once we’ve both had a chance to settle in to it.”

“Why did she not come down to
join us for the meal?” Edward wanted to know. “Is she too worn out from your
wedding night?”

Stephen fought off a grin at the
crass question. “I never touched her,” he said honestly. “When did I have time?
From the moment we were married until this very second, I have been mostly away
from her seeing to my duties as both husband and garrison commander.  If this
pace keeps up, we’ll both be old and gray before I have enough time to property
consummate the marriage.”

Tate wriggled his eyebrows and
stroked his chin in a weary gesture. “If I were you, I would make time. You
cannot leave her untouched.”

“I know,” Stephen nodded
patiently. “I will do my duty as soon as I am able and not a moment sooner.
Besides, last night was not the right time. She was… well, understandably
distraught.”

Tate thought on the burning woman
he had gored, his good humor fading. “Indeed,” was all he would say.  The trio
fell silent a moment before Tate spoke again. “Speaking of wives, I must return
soon to mine.  I am anxious to see my children.  The baby turned four months old
yesterday and I have not seen him since he was born.”

Edward shook his head. “How many
does that make now? Five children?”

Tate nodded his head; his smile
was returning. “Roman is due to be sent to foster at Kenilworth in September,
something that my wife is not particularly thrilled with, but at seven years of
age, I have told her that it is time for my oldest son to begin his training,”
he scratched his chin again, wearily. “Cate is almost six and beautiful like
her mother, while the Alexander and Dylan are nearly five and have the entire
castle living in fear of them.”

Edward laughed. “They are
hooligans. I can hardly wait to recruit them into my service.”

Tate pursed his lips in
agreement, thinking of his aggressive blond-haired twins that were almost as
big as their eldest brother. “Arabella is three and chatters like a magpie, and
now baby Dane rounds out the bunch.  My wife is going to hunt me down if I do
not return home soon to help out with the brood.”

Stephen grinned at the thought of
the Lady Elizabetha de Tobins Cartingdon de Lara, known to everyone as Toby,
tracking her husband down like a bounty hunter to return him to Forestburn
Castle. Fortunately for Tate, she was very busy with five children and hadn’t
the time to break away, but knowing Toby as they did, Stephen would not be
surprised if she found a way.  She was, if nothing else, a very determined
woman. 

“Enough of Lady de Lara,” Edward
waved his hands irritably, refocused on Stephen as the man found the right
piece of bread. “I want to know about Lady Pembury.  Is it really true that she
has been living at Jedburgh since eleven years of age?”

Stephen picked up a piece of
cloth used to cover the bread and carefully wrapped his wife’s meal in it.
“True enough, it would seem,” he replied. “It also seems that the nuns have
educated her well. She can even read and write both Latin and French.”

“Truly?” Edward looked surprised.
“A woman with an education. Shocking.”

Tate lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Elizabetha can read and write.”

Edward made a face as if the
entire idea horrified him, thinking of his own young wife who was well versed
in most courtly things excluding the ability to read. He liked it better that
way.  Beside him, Tate rose on his big legs and stretched his muscular body
wearily.

“Come along,” he said to Stephen.
“After you have fed your wife, I would have you show me the progress on the
collapsed walls.  I am uncomfortable with our vulnerability at the moment. The
Scots may be defeated but they are not dead. I should not like to be caught
unaware.”

The two knights left Edward in
the hall as they made their way out into the sunshine. Being July, and near the
river, gave the air a heated, sticky quality that made wearing armor
increasingly uncomfortable.  Tate rubbed at his neck where his mail grated
against his sweaty skin.  To the east, they could hear the buzz of the insects
as they lay fat and lazy in the moist river grass.

“So I take it that you did not
tell Edward everything I told you last night about Lady Joselyn and her reasons
for being at Jedburgh,” Stephen muttered as they cross the mud.

Tate continued to scratch his
neck. “I did not,” he replied. “If you want him to know, then you will tell
him. That kind of information will not come from me.”

“Do you plan to interrogate her
about the soldier who raped her?” Stephen asked. “You know your men better than
I. Perhaps you will recognize someone based on her description.”

Tate nodded. “I will ask her when
the time is right,” he said, eyeing Stephen as they neared the keep. “Did you
tell her what you did for her mother?”

Stephen cleared his throat
softly. “There was nothing I could do for the woman.”

“That’s not what I meant. Did you
tell her that you personally built the coffin she lies in, which is why you did
not return to her last night? That is the reason you did not return to
consummate the marriage and for no other reason than that.  Moreover, you
prayed over the woman for hours.  Did you not tell her that, either?”

“I did not.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I did not do those
things so she would admire or revere me. I did not do them for glory. I did
them because they needed to be done and because it was right that I should do
them.”

Tate sighed faintly, slapping
Stephen on a big shoulder. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “But she might
like to know that her new husband is capable of such compassion.  You are an
accomplished man with an amazing spirit, Stephen. She might like to know that
as well.”

They entered the cold, dark keep.
“She will know as time allows,” Stephen replied. “She knows that I brought her
the clothing.”

Tate snorted. “Good Lord, man,
that’s the least of your generosity,” he fell in behind Stephen as they moved
up the narrow stairs. “She should know the character of the man she has
married.”

They reached the landing. “She
will,” Stephen said, knocking softly on the chamber door.  After several long
seconds and no answer, he knocked again.  Still no answer, he opened the door.

The room was empty.

***

The day was sultry and sticky.
The moisture rising up from the river was as thick as a fog, cloaking
everything around it.  In spite of Stephen’s previous order to stay to her
chamber, Joselyn had found her way from the castle and down to the river,
thinking of the family she had lost.  She felt so very alone.  She needed time
to clear her head, far from castles and knights and visions of blood.

Reaching the damp, sticky grass
that grew in tall clumps around the river’s edge, she found a sandy bar near
the water and plopped down on it, her mind a jumble of grief and fear. Clad in
the lovely cranberry surcoat, she gathered her legs up against her chest,
lowered her face onto her knees, and wept.

So much of her life had been out
of her control.  The day she went to Carlisle with her father was the worst day
of her life; it had changed everything. Her father had been ashamed of what had
happened but her mother, a sweet simpleton, had coddled and supported her. 
Even when they realized the soldier’s seed had taken root, her mother continued
to protect her fiercely. It was her father who had insisted on keeping her
hidden as her stomach grew large and round, hidden from family and friends
alike.  Her father had told everyone that she was visiting relatives in
Aberdeen when she was really locked up in her bower of Allanton Castle.

The shame that had been instilled
in her during that time still clung to this day.  Everyone but her mother was
ashamed of her. Now the only person who had never harshly judged her was gone
and she wept painfully for the woman whose mind left her years ago. Joselyn
wept for that sweet woman of memories gone by, of brothers she had once loved,
and for a life that she would never know again. All of the tragic events from
the past few months had overwhelmed her and she felt like she was living
another life, one she did not recognize or like.  It was like hell.

Something shuffled off to her
right and she looked up to see a doe and fawn, a few feet away, drinking from
the river’s edge.  The doe seemed to be singed from a fire but otherwise seemed
well.  Joselyn’s weeping faded as she watched the two of them drink.  When the
fawn looked in her direction, she slowly lifted her hand to it, clucking
softly.  The doe seemed startled but didn’t bolt; the fawn was genuinely
curious.  Slowly, the little creature came up to her and sniffed her fingers. 
She was able to tickle its nose.

Enchanted, she forgot her tears
for the moment as the little fawn nibbled on her fingers.  She giggled at the
baby with no teeth trying to nibble on her. The mother seemed more interested
in eating the fat summer grass around the river while the fawn drew closer to
Joselyn.  It was enough of a distraction to cause her to forget her appalling
grief; for the moment, she was thrilled with the fawn.  It allowed her to
scratch its neck as it came closer, interested in what she might have to eat. 
The little animal sniffed her surcoat and bit at the material, tugging at it
and trying to eat it.  Joselyn gently pulled the fabric out of the little mouth
and tried to interest it in some soft, moist grass.  It was a sweet, peaceful
moment, one she desperately needed.

But it was not meant to last.
Suddenly, the doe hit the water with a resounding splash. Startled, Joselyn
looked up to see an arrow sticking out of its neck.  With a scream, she grabbed
the fawn and dove for the ground, terrified that more arrows would come flying
out at them.  She could hear men yelling and a great deal of rustling about as
bodies jumped into the heavy grass near the river’s edge.  As she cautiously
sat up with the fawn in her arms, she could see a dozen or so English soldiers
bearing down on the doe they had just killed.

The fawn bleated and a few of the
men looked over at her.  Joselyn watched with mounting fear as two of them made
their way over to her.

“What are you doing here, woman?”
one man demanded.

She was both frightened and
angered. “You killed that doe. She has a baby!”

The man lifted a callous eyebrow
at her. “The baby will be tasty as well,” he tried to take it from her but she
screamed and finally kicked him.  He slapped her soundly.

“Enough,” he snarled, grabbing
her by the arm and yanking her with him. “I shall eat both you and the fawn.”