Juliana Garnett (44 page)

“Thurston!” he bellowed, and held up his sword. The blade was slick with blood, shining silver and crimson in the light of torches. His helmet had been lost in a fierce skirmish in the outer bailey, and he had not paused to grab another. Now he reached for one, wrenching it from a fallen knight near his feet. Seabrook made it quickly obvious he had no intention of personal combat and snapped out orders to his knights.

They moved toward him in a single wave, and Rolf tensed for battle. When he felt Guy and his brother at his side, he smiled grimly, and they began working their way forward. Thrusting and slashing, they quickly cleared the
hall of knights able to fight. But by the time they reached the dais where Seabrook had been, he was gone.

Furious, Rolf looked at Seabrook’s wife, who stood as if frozen behind the high back of her chair. She lifted an arm and pointed with a shaking hand to the figure still sprawled on the floor. He glanced down, then stiffened. Nay, it could not be.…

“Jésu,”
he groaned, and knelt beside her, pulling off the helmet to see her better. A red mark swelled one side of Annice’s face. Her eyes were closed, and her beautiful dark-red hair was dull and tangled. He lifted her gently. She moaned pitifully. She felt like a sack of dry bones with no substance. He looked up at Lady Alais with a fierce glare. “You allowed this?”

In a quavering voice she said, “Annice promised you would not hurt me.…”

Rolf swallowed his angry words. And he had given his oath to Sir Sigehere that he would not harm Lady Alais. Despite her selfishness, he was bound by that oath.

“Nay,” he said harshly. “I will not harm you.”

Rising to his feet with Annice in his arms, he turned to his brother. Geoffrey waited with a frown, his bloody sword clutched in one hand, his helmet in the other.

“Guard her,” Rolf said quietly, and moved to place Annice upon a pile of chair bolsters that had tumbled to the floor. He turned to Lady Alais and bade her stay with her cousin until his return.

“Do you go after my husband?” she asked, staring at him with wide brown eyes. At his short nod she took a deep breath. “You had best go swiftly, my lord. Thurston has gone to the nursery to fetch your son.…”

Time was his enemy, for he knew as he raced down torch-lit hallways that Thurston would not hesitate to take his vengeance with great satisfaction upon a small boy.

Rolf was barely aware of Sir Guy behind him, running to keep up with his swift pace. They ranged like wild beasts through the halls until they came upon a cowering maidservant, who told them shakily where to find the children.

“But, milord,” she added fearfully, “if you seek the lord of the keep, he has gone above to the battlements.”

“Alone?” Rolf demanded, and saw from the widening of her eyes the answer. He did not need to linger to hear that Thurston had Justin with him.

“He means to barter for his life,” Guy muttered.

“If he has harmed one hair on Justin’s head …”

When they reached the top, a small knot of men-at-arms barred their way Guy and Rolf fought furiously and dispatched them with little trouble. Squinting against the glare of a winter sun, Rolf paused, breathing hard through his teeth as he looked about for Thurston.

A large bastion dominated the far end, its curved walls rising high above the crenellated walls of the other battlements. A banner bearing Seabrook’s emblem snapped loudly in the wind atop a slender pole. One of the doors leading upward to the very top was open and swung back and forth with a sharp, banging noise.

“He has gone to the very top,” Guy said, but Rolf was already striding toward the door and commanding him to stand guard.

It was close inside, the narrow steps allowing only one man at a time to ascend, curving in a tight spiral. He took the steps two at a time. His sword scraped against the stone walls when he held it in front of him at the ready, so tight was the passage. It was quiet in the stairwell, noise from the battle below muffled by space and thick stones.

When he stepped warily outside the passage, howling wind and light burst onto his senses. He saw Thurston at once. He was leaning against the far curve of wall, Justin held in front of him. The boy was rigid and still, fear widening his eyes as his uncle held a dagger to his throat.

Rolf swallowed heavily. Sunlight glittered along the blade of Thurston’s dagger, and slid in silvery runnels from the edge of Rolf’s sword when he held it high.

“ ’Tis over, Thurston,” he said loudly, but the wind whipped his words away so they sounded distant and weak. He stepped closer.

“Nay,” Thurston said with a sneer. His dark eyes gleamed with hatred as he pressed the dagger’s edge harder against Justin’s throat. “ ’Tis time to slay the Dragon. But first, his get.”

Rolf held up his free hand. “You have children of your own. Would you see them die?”

“They will die anyway, whether I allow your whelp to live or no. Do you think me fool enough to believe what you might say to save your son? I am not. I have not lived so long by trusting in other men to keep their oaths.”

Wind whipped at Thurston’s tunic and hair, and caught the hem of Justin’s short tunic. The boy had a hand curved over his uncle’s wrist as if to stay his movements, and his lips were taut with his fear. Rolf met the boy’s eyes for an instant, and his throat tightened at the pleading trust he saw registered in them.

Taking a deep breath, Rolf looked back at Thurston and said, “I am a man who keeps my sworn oaths. You know this. Never have I broken a bond. I give my oath that your children will not be harmed. But you must release my son to me, or I will give no such oath.”

After a moment Thurston laughed harshly. “Release him? Yea, p’raps I will, after all. Lay down your weapon, and I will free the boy.”

Rolf froze. He had no intention of allowing Thurston to escape. But neither did he want his son slain. He hesitated, and when Seabrook made a move with the dagger that brought a thin red stream of blood welling up on Justin’s neck, he held up his sword.

“I yield my weapon,” he said, thinking swiftly Thurston would not hesitate to kill both of them once Rolf was unarmed, but he was much bigger than Seabrook. And he had his dagger still in his belt. Even without his sword he might be able to overpower him.

Taking a cautious step forward, Rolf bent and placed his sword on the sun-scoured stones between him and Thurston. He rose slowly and waited, with arms dangling at his sides.

Thurston laughed, and the wind carried his laughter from the tower top in a resounding wave. The sound echoed eerily from the ridged walls.

“Yea, Dragon,” Seabrook sneered, “I will keep my oath to you. I shall free the boy as if he is a bird.”

In a motion too swift for Rolf to predict or prevent,
Thurston swung Justin’s small form to the ledge of the chest-high wall. Justin clutched frantically at his uncle’s sleeve as he was held precariously near the edge.

“Father!” he screamed. “Help me!”

Rolf’s instinctive reaction was to wrench his dagger from the sheath and fling it. The blade struck Thurston in his neck. He staggered back. Rolf was already throwing himself toward them, desperate to snatch Justin from the edge before he was shoved over.

But Thurston, even dying, was tenacious in his grip. Snarling through lips bubbling with bloody froth, he resisted Rolf’s efforts with startling strength. Blood pumped from his throat as they struggled, and Justin slipped ever closer to the precipice.

Thurston’s fist was wrapped in Justin’s tunic, and he gave a mighty shove to send the boy over the edge. Rolf clamped a hand down on his arm with fierce strength and grabbed for his son with his other hand. But Justin was just beyond his reach, dangling precariously over the side of the tower. The boy’s tunic had caught on a jutting stone corner.

Far below lay the jagged stone buttresses that supported Stoneham. The wind was fierce around them, cold and bitter despite the sunshine.

Rolf pressed against Thurston using his forearm as a wedge to drive him hard against the angle of the stone ledge. Still Thurston clung fiercely to life.

Slowly, Rolf was able to reach up and grasp the blood-slick hilt of the dagger jutting from Thurston’s throat. He shoved fiercely. As Seabrook went limp, Rolf heard Justin’s high scream.

Diving toward him, Rolf grasped the hem of the boy’s tunic. They both hung perilously over the edge of the tower wall, while Rolf struggled to regain his footing.

For an instant Rolf thought they would both tumble over the edge. Then he felt a strong arm curve around him and heard with relief a familiar voice in his ear as Guy pulled them both back over the edge to safety.

Rolf slid down the wall to the stone floor with Justin in his lap, too weak with relief to do more than pant for breath. His son held tightly to Rolf, small limbs quaking
with reaction. Shameless tears stung Rolf’s eyes and slid down his cheeks as he drew Justin to his chest, holding him as if he would never let him go.

Guy knelt in front of them, his hazel eyes narrowed against the sun. “Seabrook fell over the side. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have caught him in time.” He looked away, then back. A faint smile curved his mouth as he met Rolf’s gaze. “The castle is secured, and your brother is with Annice. Shall we join them, milord?”

“What,” Rolf began, pushing painfully to his feet without loosening his grasp on Justin, “took you so bloody long to get here?”

Guy laughed. “I was ordered to stand guard, milord. I am but used to obeying your orders.”

“I have trained you overwell,” Rolf muttered, but his smile eased any sting from his weak jest.

“Holy Mother—you’re mortal wounded,” Annice cried, rising weakly from her pallet of cushions.

Before Rolf could reach her, Alais was there to push her gently back down. “Be still, or you will only swoon again. Ahh, I fear me I will not like what your lord will say.…”

Covered with blood and holding tight to Justin, Rolf paused a few feet from Annice. He set Justin gently on his feet, then straightened with the boy clinging to his side. Annice’s fears slowly eased. He was not limping, nor favoring any part of his body. The wounds could not be too serious. And though Justin was bloody as well, he seemed whole save for an ugly scratch on his neck.

For a few moments Rolf spoke in a low tone to Sir Guy and the man whom he had set to guard his wife. This man seemed an older version of Rolf, save for the fact that he continually jested with those around him. Since she’d awakened, she’d heard him bedevil Alais most unmercifully, until Alais snapped at him to be quiet or she would gut him with her poniard. It had had no effect at all.

Now the man Rolf called Geoffrey turned toward Alais with a solemn countenance. “Milady,” he said, “my brother brings grim tidings to you.”
“Thurston is dead,” Alais said flatly, and Geoffrey nodded.

Annice realized then that this was Rolf’s brother and understood that they had joined forces to come to her aid. And now Thurston was dead, and her cousin a widow. She turned painfully to look at Alais, who stood still and quietly thoughtful for a long moment.

“I expected such. Am I to be imprisoned now?” Alais asked shortly, and Rolf shook his head.

“Nay, you are to be allowed to go wherever you wish, as long as you do not stay here. This keep is now mine, by right of force. Sir Sigehere will be your escort.”

Annice watched as Rolf regarded Alais stonily. If he had expected hysterics or pleas, he was very much mistaken. Alais simply shrugged and stated her intention to go to her favorite dowry keep, which had much more pleasant weather and, though smaller, was more comfortable. She and her children would be happy there.

Turning to her cousin, Alais asked, “Am I expected to take with me Thurston’s bastards? I would much rather leave them here, as they are too many to support and I do not care for them.”

It was typical of Alais that she would be most concerned with her own welfare, but still Annice found it disquieting.

Before she could reply, Geoffrey laughed and said, “By all means, milady, leave them here. I fear for their welfare should you take them with you.”

Alais knelt beside Annice and took her hand. The shackles had been removed, and Annice clasped her cousin’s fingers weakly.

“I know,” Alais said softly, “that you think me selfish. And you are right. But I could be little else and survive with a man like Thurston. ’Twas all he understood. This I will tell you, cousin—I have a great affection for you, and admiration for your courage. I wish you happiness with your lord, for I think you have found a man worthy of you at last.”

Tears clogged Annice’s throat, and she could not reply. In her weakened state, emotion swamped her too readily. Alais smiled and squeezed her hand, then bent to press a kiss upon her brow. “You should bathe as soon as possible,” she
whispered, then rose to her feet and announced her imminent departure. “Send Sir Sigehere to me at once,” she said as she swept from the hall.

The easy tears slipped down Annice’s cheeks, and she could no longer hold up her head. She pressed her face against the velvet softness of a cushion, exhausted. Around her she could hear men giving orders for the restoration of order and the security of the keep. Rolf still did not come to her but talked softly to Justin in a low tone she could not hear.

Did he no longer care about her? Was she, then, as she had always feared, just one of his possessions? She’d seen how fiercely he held to what was his, not releasing even a groat unwillingly. Never had he said he loved her, only that he feared for her. She had thought once he might say it, when he’d held her close and said he would come for her and would keep her safe from harm, but he had not. Nor later, when he had left her at the nunnery near Gedney, had he said the words she longed to hear.

Now, when he once more had his son, he had forgotten about her, and God grant her grace for it, but she felt a spurt of envy that the child held his love while she did not. Tears seeped from under her closed eyelids, and she choked back an anguished sob.

Though she had not heard him approach, Rolf’s voice was close and gentle. “
Chérie
, do not weep. We are all safe now. My men have secured the castle, and we will remain here until you are well enough to travel.” His hand touched her hair lightly, lifting a tangled strand to hold in his fist. “Are you strong enough to hear me?”