Medieval Master Warlords (24 page)

“Stay here,” he commanded softly, kissing her hand before dropping it.  “I will be right back.”

Kellington watched him jog off in the direction of the wall, his mail jingling and his right hand holding his sheathed broadsword so that it would not bang against his leg. Whatever the sentries were shouting about was apparently taking place on the opposite side of the wall.  There was much activity as more soldiers, including Denedor, joined the sentries on the parapet.

It took Kellington a moment to realize that she was very much alone. Her first instinct was to run while Denedor was distracted, but she knew it would be a foolish move. She had nowhere to go. But she was definitely curious about what was happening beyond the walls and she began to walk, very casually, toward the still-open castle gate.  A few men at arms were running in and out, and there were still several peasants milling around the opening. 

A farmer with a huge cart of hay was guiding his donkey under the raised portcullis as Kellington made her way to the gate, glancing up at the wall walk every so often to see if Denedor had noticed that she had not remained where he left her.  She did not see him on the wall walk and proceeded through the open gate.

But that was as far as she went, convincing herself yet again that it was not time to make her break.  She must wait for her father to depart and follow him. But the view outside of the gates gave her a good indication of the lay of the land and she memorized it, noticing the road that led off to the northwest and how it split into two separate avenues; one that led due north and the other that led southwest.  Although she had her father had traveled in from the road from the north, she did not remember much of their approach.  She had been more consumed with the sight of the castle.

She stood there a moment as the breeze ruffled her skirt, watching the puffy clouds scoot across the sky and thinking it was cool enough for her to retrieve her cloak.  She had always been thin-blooded and cold affected her more than most. But as her golden-brown gaze moved along the road heading to the north, she caught sight of what had the sentries on the wall so agitated.

There was a black line on the horizon, moving steadily.  She could see it undulate, like an army of ants.  It moved, it changed, it grew bigger and darker.  As she stood there and watched, it began to spread out from the distant road, moving into the fields on the outskirts of Alnwick. The distant line began to take on distinct characteristics and it suddenly occurred to her what it was.

An army approached.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Denedor noticed he had company up on the wall walk; de Vesci and Keats, having heard the commotion from inside the great hall, stood on either side of him on the parapet.  Denedor looked over, noticing that Keats looked particularly strained.  And he didn’t blame the man.  Even though the approaching group was far off in the distance, it did not take a great intellect to deduce who they were.  There was only one possible answer.

They had suspected this might come, only not so soon. In fact, Denedor was still planning for the event of taking Lady Kellington out of Alnwick that night and whisking her by sea to Ireland.  Last night, de Vesci has promised him a lordship.  Up until a few moments ago, he had been planning a new life with his new wife.  He had been looking forward to it, like nothing he had looked forward to for many years.  At the moment, he was deeply disappointed more than anything. He couldn’t even muster the will to be afraid. He only felt frustration.

He turned to de Vesci, standing next to him.

“My lord,” he said. “There is still time to remove your family. I would suggest you take them through the kitchen gate and flee to the south while there is still time.”

De Vesci looked pale as his brown eyes beheld the army in the distance.  “Move them? Why? Who is that?”

Denedor’s pale blue eyes looked to the horizon also.  “That, I would suspect, is de Velt.”

Keats closed his eyes and dropped his chin into his chest as de Vesci flirted with denial.

“What?” the baron gasped. “How would you know that?”

Denedor shrugged. “Who else could it be?”

The baron was growing agitated. “But…,” he swallowed. “How could he be here so soon? How would he know she is here?”

“There are a thousand different ways the man could have been told,” Denedor replied calmly. “It does not matter how he knows or why he has managed to come so soon.  But the fact remains that he must know, and he has ridden a very long way very quickly to get here. We need to seal up the fortress immediately, so if you are going to leave, I would do it now.”

De Vesci was still in disbelief as he turned to Keats. “You know de Velt’s army on sight,” he waved an arm at the man. “He was just at Pelinom three weeks ago. Is that the same army who now bears down on Alnwick?”

Keats opened his eyes and looked to the distance, watching the great army of men fan out along the meadows.  They were forming blocks; he could see it.  He’d seen the same thing almost a month ago at Pelinom as they had watched curiously then, having no idea who was coming or why. They should have known then what he knew now.  There could be no other alternative.

“Lock down the fortress,” he hissed at Denedor. “Lock it down and prepare for the worst.  We have something he wants and he’ll stop at nothing to get it.”

As they continued to watch, two riders broke off from the group and began to close the distance to Alnwick.  De Vesci swore and ran off, mumbling about getting to his family.  Keats and Denedor let him go, knowing the man would be no good in battle. He was a nobleman and had long ago given up fighting. That is why he had an army of men to do it for him, including Keats and Denedor.  But as Denedor watched his liege stumble down the wall ladder, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

He thought of Kellington, still standing in the bailey.  With a start, he rushed to the side of the parapet that faced the yard, only to be faced with a vast empty ward and no lady in sight.  Panicked, he began to descend the steps to the courtyard below.

“Order the gates sealed,” he bellowed as he went. “Every man to his post!”

The soldiers on the parapet began to take up his cry, understanding that something very bad was approaching.  The majority of them did not know who Keats Coleby was, or his daughter, and had no idea that the army on the approach was none other than Jax de Velt’s.  All they knew was that their very calm captain had a twinge of panic in his voice, something that none of them had ever heard.  It was enough to jar them into a stampede of purpose as they began to lock down the fortress.

Denedor reached the bottom of the ward and began to run back to where he had left Kellington. As he did so, he noticed that the main gates were beginning to crank closed. He was about to turn away when he caught sight of a medium blue gown just to the right of the main gates, standing well outside of the walls. The soft vision of blue against the brilliant green grass had his full attention.

Realization dawned and he switched direction, running faster than he had ever run in his life towards the closing main gates.  He yelled to the soldiers above to open the gates and the men paused, looking confused by his command. But they dutifully complied. Denedor raced through the open gate, rushing to Kellington who was still standing just outside of the wall. She hadn’t moved; she just stood there with her hand over her eyes, shielding her gaze from the bright morning sun. Denedor ran up and threw his arms around her.

Kellington shrieked, nearly falling to the ground with the force of his hit.  Panicked, she struggled to pull away from him.

“Denedor!” she gasped. “Have you gone mad?”

He swept her up into his arms before he said another word. “We must go inside immediately,” he tried not to sound alarmed.

She was greatly confused by his behavior. “What is wrong with you? Put me down this instant.”

He had her snuggly in his arms, walking back through the main gate very quickly. Kellington struggled against him, kicking and twisting.

“All will be well, my lady,” he assured her as evenly as he could. “Calm yourself and I will explain everything.”

“Calm myself? Me?” she repeated incredulously. “You are the one who nearly sent me to the ground with that tackle.  I would say it is you that needs to calm.”

He put her down and she slapped his hands away, stumbling back from him. “What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “Why did you grab me like that?”

Denedor gazed at her, feeling disappointment sweep him more heavily than it had earlier. She was such a lovely, brilliant little thing. Something worth fighting for.  He took her by the arm and began to pull her with him towards the gatehouse.

“Come along,” he said firmly.

Kellington didn’t like being drug around and strongly resisted. When she dug her heels in, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her, kicking and fighting, into the gatehouse and down the steep steps to the vault.  As she hollered her protest, he took her into the first of two cells and set her to her feet. Before she could recover her balance from being roughly set down, he slammed the old iron grate and locked it.

Kellington wasn’t frightened as much as she was baffled. But she suspected, deep down, why he had done such a thing. 

“Sir Denedor,” she looked at him with her luscious golden brown eyes, wide with remorse and fear. “I was not going to run away, I swear it.  I was only looking.”

He stood on the opposite side of the grate, his hands on his hips and the key in his hand. “I did not think you were going to run away, my lady.”

His reply surprised her. “You didn’t?” her brow furrowed curiously. “Then why did you put me in here?”

His gaze moved over the sweet lines of her face, knowing he was going to do everything possible to keep her for himself.  Against Jax de Velt, that could quite possibly mean forfeiting his life.  He was well aware of that.

“Because we are facing battle,” he said quietly. “I have put you in here to protect you.”

She just stared at him. “Protect me from what?”

He cocked his head. “Do you not know?”

She truly didn’t. She hadn’t seen the approach of de Velt’s army those weeks ago and, being relatively ignorant of war as she had repeatedly sworn, was not one to recognize an army on sight.  It did not even occur to her that Jax would have come this soon. For all she knew he was still laying siege that mysterious castle that he would not tell her of.

“Nay,” she shook her head, her slender fingers winding around the bar grates as she pressed her face against it. “Who is here?”

Denedor sighed faintly, struggling to calm himself completely. He would need all of his wits for what was to come.

“De Velt,” he said quietly. “I have put you in here to protect you from the siege.”

Kellington’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“Who else could it be? Besides, your father identified the army and he knows better than most.”

Kellington suddenly came alive, rattling the iron grate madly. “Then let me out to talk to him,” she demanded. “Perhaps he will leave Alnwick alone if you turn me over to him. Please, Denedor; do as I ask or you will all face a horrible death.”

“We are already facing a horrible death,” he replied. “Turning you over to de Velt will not prevent that. He will simply take you and burn this place over our heads.”

“Nay!” she shook the bars that held her. “I will not allow him to, I swear it. He will listen to me. You must let me out!”

Denedor watched her, the way her cheeks flushed with emotion and the gentle curve of her lips as she spoke. He suddenly moved forward, grabbing her face through the bars and kissing her forcefully on the lips. Before she could pull away, he released her.  Kellington stumbled back, her hand to her mouth as if to wipe away the memory of his lips.

“I will not turn you over,” he said quietly, steadily. “Jax de Velt is not worthy of you. He is a thief and a murderer and you deserve better. You may not understand that now, but in time you will.  Your father has offered me your hand and I have accepted, so in the eyes of the law if not net in the eyes of God, you are my wife.  And I will not turn my wife over to de Velt.”

There was no true animosity from him as he spoke, but there was a definitive possessiveness. Kellington’s first instinct was to flare, to deny him, but she kept her composure. That would gain her nothing.  Removing the hand from her mouth, she moved back towards the cell grate.

“Denedor,” she said softly. “You know that I adore Jax. Why would you keep me from him?”

“I told you. Because he is not worthy of you.”

She sighed heavily. “I know that you are an honorable and decent man, and if Jax and I had never met, then I would be deeply honored to be your wife,” she reached out and grasped his sleeve. “But I want to be with Jax.  Can you not understand that?”

He was being sucked in by her eyes, feeling himself bending to her soft voice and sweet touch.  With his last shred of control, he pulled back from her and struggled to focus.

“I do,” he replied, almost curtly. “But I have no time to discuss it with you now. I must see to the defense of Alnwick.”

He fled up the stairs even as she called after him. Kellington continued to scream for him long after he was out of earshot, but he did not come back.  Finally, when all was deathly quiet, she sank to her buttocks against the cell grate, exhausted, and in turmoil, wondering what horrors this day would bring for all of them. 

Then the tears came.

***

Jax and Atreus approached Alnwick at a dead gallop. The chargers, sensing battle, were working up great globs of foam from their mouths.  As they approached the massively walled castle, they could see the activity up on the parapets and they slowed the horses to an unsteady halt. They gazed up at the top of the walls, looking at the hundreds of frightened faces looking down at them.  Jax knew that they were in range of the archers, but it could not be helped.  He had promised Atreus that he would negotiate and he could not do that from a mile away.

“Who is in command?” he bellowed.

His voice echoed off the great walls.   When no one answered right away, he tried again.

“I am Ajax de Velt,” he boomed. “I will not ask again. Who is in command?”

There was some scuttling on the wall directly over his head. Looking up, he thought he caught a glimpse of Keats Coleby. In fact, he was sure of it and fury surged through him.  He yelled up to the man.

“Coleby?” he roared. “Show your face immediately. I would speak with you.”

After several long seconds, Keats’ familiar features appeared over the wall.  “De Velt,” he said calmly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Jax retorted. “Bring de Vesci and his commanders to the front gate. I am prepared to negotiate, but know this offer will only be given once.  If you refuse or delay, I will unleash my siege engines on this place and you will all be dead by nightfall.”

Keats’ face disappeared. Jax and Atreus reined their horses towards the front gate, vigilantly aware of their surroundings, taking nothing for granted. Jax half-expected a volley of arrows to come flying at them, but so far, the men on the wall had remained still.  He knew they were not foolish; if they were to kill de Velt, then his army would let loose hell upon them and, clearly, no one wanted that.

Jax wait impatiently for the gates to crank open.  But they were kept waiting an excessive amount of time.  Just when he was preparing to issue more threats, the great wood and iron panels lurched and began to slowly creak open.

But they only opened enough to allow one man to pass through them.  As Jax watched, a big knight with very blond hair slid through the opening, followed shortly thereafter by Keats. As Jax watched Kellington’s father emerge from the safety of the fortress, it was all he could do to keep his anger in check.  He was already in danger of breaking his decision to negotiate.  He wanted to kill.