Hearts Across Time (The Knights of Berwyck: A Quest Through Time Novel ~ Books 1 & 2) (8 page)

I
am displeased
.”
King Henry
was fuming whilst he looked down upon his two subjects. Riorden prayed they looked contrite enough, but it did not appear as if that alone would lessen their king’s irritation.

“You,” the king called out, pointing to Riorden. “Step forward.”

Riorden advanced as the king began pacing back and forth across the raised dais. He knew where this discussion was heading, and he liked naught what the outcome was sure to be. He only gave the briefest of bows to show reverence.

“Sire…” he said quietly.

King Henry’s eyes raked him in a silent command, afore Riorden finally knelt down on one knee.

“I did not think I must needs spell out my displeasure at finding you in the Earl of Berwyck’s colors. Do you, perchance, have some other purpose in my directives than getting yourself to Warkworth? I would have thought my orders would be clear when I sent you your father’s ring,” King Henry roared, not waiting for Riorden’s answer as he continued. “Well! Speak up Riorden de Deveraux!”

“I will, of course, do my duty, my liege,” Riorden answered bitterly, “I but awaited your arrival to speak with you on such a grave matter as my returning to Warkworth. I prayed that I may serve you in some other capacity, other than returning to a place I despise.”

“I care not if you loathe the place! You shall do as you are commanded,” King Henry said angrily with a wave of his hand. “Good God man! Warkworth is in a prime location and must be secured in the name of the crown. Your father has been deceased these many months, and ’tis time to take your rightful place as the Earl of Warkworth. ’Tis your heritage, and you will return and administer the estate, as is fitting. I will not have the keep and its lands fall into the hands of the Scots or, worse yet, those filthy Irish rebels who continue to plague my realm.”

“Surely, there are others who could see to such an important holding,” Riorden countered. He watched King Henry’s face turn purple with rage.

“Do not test my patience further, Riorden,” the king said after several moments of silence. “For years, I have heard of your exploits whilst you have been captain of Dristan of Berwyck’s garrison. Do you think I would have any other than the best settled at Warkworth?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” Riorden agreed solemnly, knowing his fate had been sealed.

“Then this discussion is at an end. Get yourself to Warkworth as its Earl, and ensure your father’s widow knows her place in your household,” Henry declared with finality.

“I will go there, posthaste, sire,” Riorden grimaced, keeping his temper under control. He was waved back to stand next to Danior.

“This brings me to you, Danior de Grey,” Henry’s voice boomed his fury and the sound echoed off the walls of the chamber. Danior now stepped forward, and he, too, only gave the slightest of bows.

“What insanity is happening to my knights to be so reckless that they cannot show their proper respect to their king? Has some witch perchance cursed you all?”

Those within the chamber all began to kneel, as if, mayhap, this show of submissiveness would appease their angry sovereign.

“I do not even know where to begin with you, Captain.” Henry continued furiously. “You had Tiernan Cavanaugh, Irish rebel leader that he is, captured and held in my own castle, and yet you could not even keep him here long enough to be interrogated?”

“The guard I posted to watch the prisoner has been reprimanded, my liege, and shall not fail in his duty again,” Danior promised.

“Mucking out my stables for the rest of his days is not good enough, in my opinion!”

“I will find the prisoner, sire, and bring him back to Bamburgh. He could not have gone far,” Danior exclaimed.

“He should not have been allowed to escape in the first place!”

“Aye, Your Majesty. I take full responsibility for his escape, since the lapse occurred whist I was in charge. I swear, I shall find him.”

“You had better, Danior, or I swear by all that is holy, I will have your head. Do not return without him, for if you do, you shall feel the entire extent of my wrath ─ at least until I summon the axe man. Once called, believe me, you won’t feel a thing afterwards. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Aye, Your Majesty,” Danior said and rose.

“Do not fail me…either of you!” King Henry yelled angrily then called for wine. With a goblet in hand, he left the starkly silent room. Conversations quickly returned and grew in volume as those who traveled in King Henry’s court began to whisper amongst themselves. ’Twas apparent to all within the chamber that Riorden de Deveraux and Danior de Grey had lost favor with the king, lest they could prove their worth once more.

R
iorden tentatively knocked
on his chamber door. His brow furrowed in puzzlement when he heard no call to enter. He knocked again then looked towards Patrick, who only shrugged. Putting his hand upon the latch, he pulled it back and swung the door wide. He gazed into the chamber…the very empty chamber, and was filled with a bitter disappointment he had not felt in some many years. A quick look about the room gave evidence Katherine had not returned here. Everything appeared as he had left it.

Entering, he went to the trunk sitting at the foot of the bed and took a key from the pouch at his waist. Fitting the brass into the lock, he heard a sharp click. Opening the lid, he reached down towards the bottom and pulled out a dark blue tabard he had not thought to don ever in his lifetime. The embroidered black lion head symbolized his father’s crest and title, a title that was now, apparently, his. He never wanted it, since it represented a life he had chosen to forget.

With a heavy sigh, he handed Patrick the tabard to hold then tore off Dristan’s colors and neatly folded the garment. Taking one last glance at the fire breathing dragon that signified the majority of the life he had led, he placed it on the coverlet of the bed. It would do him no good to think on the past and what could have been.

“My lord?” Patrick urged as he held the lion’s head garment out for Riorden to don.

Riorden took the tabard from his squire and pulled it over his head. A feeling of dread came over him as it fell onto his shoulders, like a dead and empty weight. Memories of the last time he had been at Warkworth assailed him from every direction. Love. Hate. Greed. Betrayal. They were all brought to the forefront of his mind, along with the vision of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. He had fallen in love with her the moment he had espied her, despite Dristan’s words to tread carefully. All too late, he had learned that, although the lady was indeed fair of face, in her heart, she was naught but a callous and greedy woman.

For years, he would call himself a fool, more times than he cared to count, and had learned to close off any emotions concerning love by hardening his heart to such a troublesome emotion. Regrettably, he was now committed to the one place he never wanted to return and to face the one woman he despised more than any other he had ever known. She had chosen another over him. Normally, he would have learned to deal with the situation for what it was worth. Unfortunately, ’twas just not some unknown man she had professed to love. ’Twas unforgivably more devastating when the rival for her love was his own father. Riorden had not spoken a word to his sire, ever again.

Riorden went to the window and inhaled the fresh clean air, allowing it to have a calming effect on him. He closed his eyes, thinking of the one person who, until but a few hours ago, he thought he would never see in the flesh.
Katherine
. Her name whispered gently across his soul, and, although he felt a disappointment overcome him that she was not here, he had the distinct impression things were not as they appeared. The look in her eyes had spoken a thousand words. He could not believe she had lied to him. Something must have happened, preventing her and her lady friends from being here. If it was the last thing he did, he would find her again, even if it took until the end of his days.

“I will find you, Katherine,” he vowed in a low murmur, hoping somehow she would feel his words.

As Patrick finished placing Riorden’s belongings into a pack, Riorden placed the key to the trunk on the table. Reaching into his pouch once more, he pulled out his father’s ring and put it on his finger. It felt heavy, almost as heavy as his heart. The eyes of the lion looked at him just as contemptuously as they did but days afore. ’Twas almost as if his father were having the last laugh.

He motioned to Patrick, who began following Riorden down the many passageways. He checked the battlement wall to ensure Katherine was still not atop. She was absent, but neither did he doubt that he had not imagined her. Droplets of her blood remained on the stones as a grim reminder, and he was determined to find out what had befallen her. They made quick work of the tower stairs until they at last stood in the courtyard where castle inhabitants were busily going about their everyday business. Riorden headed in the direction of the stables until he noticed a disturbance near one of the outer walls.

As he drew closer, he saw Danior, Gavin, and Aiden listening to a man’s ramblings about his stolen lute. Riorden listened with only half an ear until the man’s words piqued his interest at the mention of four women making their escape through a hole found in the castle’s defenses. Riorden gazed in the direction of where he spoke and saw how workers were busily repairing the wall. ’Twas obvious, the ladies in question would not be returning by this ingress.

The minstrel continued to voice his displeasure that the castle guards would not be following the thieves who had run off with his most prized possession. Danior, it seemed, was at the end of his patience and was fingering the hilt of his sword in an irritated manner.

“I care not about some missing criminal you are looking for,” cried the outraged man. “How am I to earn coin to feed myself, if I do not have my instrument to play upon?”

Riorden fingered a coin and flipped it to the musician. “Here…go purchase yourself another and speak no more of this.”

“But someone must find those thieving wenches who stole what was rightfully mine,” he yelled.

Riorden took umbrage at the disrespectful term the minstrel used for the ladies in question and grabbed the man by the front of his tunic. “You would be wise to listen to my words and let the matter rest, old man. The coin I gave you is enough to acquire another lute of better quality, no doubt.”

Shoving the man away from him, he watched as the ungrateful oaf bit into the coin to test its worth and, once satisfied, left, continuing his grumbling about the injustice of life.

“Well...where to, Riorden?” Aiden inquired honestly.

“I have been ordered south to my home of Warkworth,” Riorden answered with a bitter taste in his mouth as the words rushed from his lips. “I do, however, have a small detour of my own making; a most urgent mission to find the four errant ladies our erstwhile friend, who has just departed, mentioned.”

“Ho, Riorden!” Danior laughed well-naturedly. “Now that is the man I used to know, always chasing after a willing skirt! Tell me...is she a good toss beneath the sheets, my friend?”

In the blink of an eye, Riorden had Danior in a hold with a knife to his throat. “Do not speak of her in such a manner,” he warned and then quickly realized what he had done. Backing off, he sheathed his knife and placed it back within his boot. “My apologies, Danior. I do not know what just came over me.”

“If I did not know you better, I would have thought you to be in love,” Danior quipped wryly, “and that you had tasted the green-eyed monster of jealousy. She must be most beautiful, indeed.”

“She is to me,” Riorden announced, almost reverently.

“The lady means that much to you, then?” Gavin asked abruptly.

“She is all to me...or at least could be, given some time.”

“Did you not just meet the fair damsel?” Aiden could not help but query.

Riorden only shrugged. “Aye, and yet, I do not understand it all myself, which I am sure makes no more sense to you than it does to me. But that is of no consequence. She is important to me and out there alone without someone to protect her. I will not rest until I find her, along with her lady friends.”

Riorden donned his gloves and strode with his companions as they made their way to the stables.

“But, my lord, where will we begin to look for Lady Katherine? She could be anywhere,” Patrick asked, keeping pace with his lord’s long strides. He sounded as if he wanted Riorden to catch up with the ladies, if only to beg their pardon for Riorden’s unchivalrous behavior toward Katherine.

Riorden got a far off look then grinned. He knew exactly where she would head, and he planned to meet her along the path he knew she was treading. “She goes to Warkworth,” he said confidently.

“How can you be sure?” Aiden questioned in bewilderment.

Riorden gave a short laugh. “I just know.” He looked at his comrades, who held serious looks of disbelief on their visages. “Do you doubt me? If this is so, mayhap we can place a small wager on the outcome.”

“God’s Blood, I have seen that look afore,” Gavin smirked knowingly, “and my purse was all the lighter because I did not heed such a premonition of losing. Just believe me when I tell you to keep your coins, my lords, and do not wager against my brother.”

Danior laughed loudly, closing his pouch and attaching it again to his belt. “Aye! I think I will decline on taking such a bet although, I must admit, I never thought to see the day when Riorden de Deveraux would be smitten by a pretty face.”

“Nothing wrong with falling in love, not that I want such a thing to happen to me,” Gavin chimed in. “I am too young to be saddled with a wife. Besides, there are plenty of willing wenches I must needs satisfy, afore I think on marriage.”

Riorden only laughed, thinking to himself he had the same thoughts running through his head at his brother’s age. They reached the stables and he noticed that none of King Henry’s knights were joining Danior to find his missing prisoner. He raised a brow to his old friend. Although he spoke no words, the obvious question was felt in the air.