My Lady Faye (22 page)

The rushes in the hall needed changing. Beside the hearth, a pack of dogs snarled and snapped over some discarded treasure buried beneath them. The stench turned her stomach. Calder had allowed the keep to degenerate into a filthy hovel. “Why have the rushes not been changed?”

“My lady.” Betsy, the upper serving maid bowed her head.

Faye stopped. Royce growled beneath his breath as he near trod on her heels. Faye forced her rigid face into a smile. A lady never shows her pain or her fear. “How are you, Betsy? And your mother, has she recovered from her fall?”

“Aye, my lady.” Betsy bobbed her head. “That liniment you sent worked wonders.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Faye raised her chin and commenced her march. This must be how a condemned man felt being taken to his death. She refused to die like this. She had survived worse.

“I will see to the rushes, my lady.” A kitchen drudge bowed his head and scurried out of the hall.

Simon straightened his shoulders beside her. Proud blood ran in her son’s veins. The blood of warriors and survivors, and blood would tell now. Simon still had the misshapen wooden carving of a badger clutched to his chest. Dear Lord, Aldous might be dead. Killed for aiding her. Surely, God would not forgive such a terrible injustice.

Gregory would find him and guess what had occurred. Faye grabbed the tiny glimmer of hope.
Please God, speed his return to Aldous’s burrow and comfort him through his loss of a dear friend.

“My lady.” One of the castle pages bowed low before her.

“It is good to see you, Peter.” Faye stopped once more. “How fares your training?”

“Good, my lady.” The boy flushed and his gaze slid away from her. “It is good to see you, my lady.”

Royce prodded her. “Move.”

“Take your hands off me.” Faye stared the misbegotten dog down. His gaze dropped.
Remember with whom you deal, villein.

Outside the keep, thunder rumbled.

“It seems we are in for a storm.” Faye commented to the keep at large as they climbed the stairs. “We need the rain.”

“Aye, my lady. Welcome home, my lady.”

Faye smiled in the direction of the speaker.
Home.
The word reverberated in her head like a clarion bell.

Royce marched them to the lord’s solar and motioned them inside. “You are to wait here.”

“We require refreshment.” She met Royce’s bold gaze without flinching. If he hoped to see her cowering and whimpering for mercy, he would be disappointed.

“The earl never gave instructions for anything like that.” He stuck his chin out like a sulky boy.

“Indeed.” Faye met his reaction with the disdain it deserved. “Is the intent to see us perish from thirst and hunger?”

Above his russet beard, Royce flushed. He glared at her, trying to menace her down.

Miserable churl.
Faye held her ground until the man spun and stomped from the room.

The room had changed. Finely embroidered silks she had placed there hung, dull with dirt, about the large bed. Pillows she had sewn to match had been cast on the floor in a pile. Bed linens tangled in a rumpled, stained mound. A fire screen she had embroidered in deep shades of blue and yellow stood before the hearth. The ashes looked not to have been changed since she left. Dust covered the clothes chest at the foot of the bed. Grime lined the ewer and basin standing on a table by the casement. She would never have allowed that had she been here.

Faye waited for the door to shut. The bar dropped into place on the other side and her shoulders slumped.

Simon stood in the middle of the solar, pale and frightened.

She gathered him in her arms. In this place, she had first learned fear and come to understand her helplessness. Memories clustered around the edges of the room and jeered at her She didn’t have to listen to them. In the past few days, she had lived a lifetime. She was not the frightened, broken bride who had run for her life a year ago. She snatched up two pillows and beat them together to rid them of dust. “Let us make ourselves more comfortable.”

Hooves clattered into the bailey below, and Faye ran to the casement.

Calder dismounted and tossed his reins to a stable hand.

* * * *

Gregory found his horses and an army to go with them. His luck finally turned when he met with the men of Anglesea on his way. He almost wept with relief.

Newt had intercepted them as they traveled to Calder.

“Told you I would do it.” Newt hawked and spat.

Gregory abandoned any idea of hugging the filthy child in gratitude.

Newt waited only long enough to be sure Garrett understood exactly how in his debt they were. Then, he turned and disappeared. Gone wherever with a large purse of coins in his pocket.

Sir Arthur carried a writ from King Henry to assume guardianship of Simon. He and Lady Mary’s brothers marched to Calder to deliver it. The larger party had split and now William, Roger and a strong escort rode hard for Aldous’s hideout.

The party drew rein atop the rise. Too quiet and no smoke from below. Gregory’s nape prickled as he dismounted. Aldous had not come to meet them.

William and Roger kept pace with him as he descended into the old dungeon.

“Sweet Christ,” William said.

Aldous’s home had been destroyed. The table lay in splinters, linens and pillows ripped, the straw stuffing of the pallet scattered over the floor. The upturned kettle dripped its contents into the dead hearth.

Amongst the carnage lay Aldous in a large, glistening pool of red. Blood crept along the floor out of Aldous. It edged over the pallet straw and mixed with the overturned stew. Gregory’s belly clenched and heaved.

Roger crouched beside Aldous. “He breathes.”

Aldous might yet live. Any wound bled prolifically. So much blood. Gregory crouched beside Roger.

Roger glanced at him and shook his head. Roger lied. Gregory wanted to pound his fists against Roger and force him to recant.

A gaping hole winked its seeping maw at him from an inch below Aldous’s ribs—a gut wound, agonizing and fatal. How could God have let this happen? God could not be this cruel and unjust.

Aldous’s breath rattled in his throat. “Sword wielder.”

“Old man.” Gregory’s tongue swelled thick and dry.

Aldous watched him.

Gregory clasped the man’s bloody hand in his. He had strength in his limbs, enough to spare, enough to fill Aldous. God, the pain must be nigh unbearable. How had Aldous clung to life this long?

“They took her.” Aldous raised barely a whisper. “They took her and the boy.”

“Calder?”

“Aye.”

Roger shot to his feet. “Whoreson!”

Feebly, Aldous tugged on his hand until Gregory lowered his head closer to his mouth. “Listen with your heart, warrior,” Aldous whispered. A sweet smile spread over his face as his eyes dimmed.

Gregory closed the old man’s eyelids. Aldous looked as if he merely slept, peaceful and serene. Nay. The word built in Gregory’s chest wilder than the summer storm outside. He threw back his head and roared it to the heavens.

He bellowed until his throat burned raw, but still it grew within him in wave after wave. His voice failed him before he was spent. He clutched his friend’s hand in his. Aldous had been a good man, one of the best he had ever met. His beliefs may have been strange to Gregory, but his deep-seated respect for all things living came as close to God as Gregory had ever known.

“We need to ride for Calder.” William touched him on the shoulder.

Not trusting himself to speak, Gregory nodded. Carefully, he slid his hands beneath the old man. He hefted him into his arms and cradled him to his chest. Without his formidable spirit, Aldous weighed nothing in his arms.

“Shall we bury him?” William followed him into the brewing storm. Wind whipped across the knoll and battered them with the moist scent of coming rain.

“Nay.” Gregory placed the man on the ground beside the entrance to his lair. “He would desire to be burned.”

Roger looked startled, but instructed his men to gather wood.

Gregory returned underground and hunted through the debris until he located the old man’s staff. He wiped it free of blood and carried it out. Calder had Faye, but Gregory refused to leave Aldous for the crows and carrion eaters.

They built a pyre and placed Aldous on it.

Aldous had spoken of this and Gregory would see him honored thus. Carefully Gregory laid Aldous’s hands by his sides, straightened his legs and smoothed his robe over his ankles.

Gregory removed Aldous’s battered sandals and put them beside him. Finally he placed the staff close to the body and stepped back. Just as Aldous had desired.

Roger stepped forward with a lit brand and thrust it deep within the pyre.

As the wood caught flame, Gregory had no words for a prayer. Aldous would not have recognized their sanctity in any case. Thick, oily smoke and flames oozed around the old man, and engulfed him.

They rode out with the flames burning behind them.

* * * *

Faye turned to greet her husband.

Calder stood in the doorway. A triumphant smile spread in a flash of white teeth across his handsome face. He opened his arms wide as he strolled into the room. “Welcome home, my lady.” His movements contained as he walked forward, the anger in him leashed but pulsed beneath the surface. He had her and they both knew it.

Faye backed away as she inclined her head in greeting.

“No words of welcome, my lady?” Calder’s cocked his head. “No loving whisperings of how you have longed for me?” He stopped right before her, towering above her by several inches. His shoulders crowded the room from view.

She caught the scent of mint on his breath, the sickly sweet smell of the oils he used for his beard. A tremor began in her belly and spread to her legs.

Calder lifted his hand.

Faye tensed for the blow.

He grinned and slid his hand past her ear.

Faye breathed out, softly so as not to provoke him further.

“What have you done to your hair?” He toyed with the shorn ends of her hair. “I do not like it. You will grow it back.”

Calder ordered and she obeyed. Faye nodded and dropped her gaze to the floor. He did not like her hair. He would punish her for certain.

His hand, hard beneath her chin, forced her face upward. “This rebellion of yours is done, my lady.” His gaze burned into her, implacable and cold. Ice crept over her skin. Calder’s fingers tightened on her chin. She would be bruised come morning. His boots barked against her bare toes and pressed. “I want to hear you say it.”

She knew better than to cry out and she curled her nails into her palms. Faye opened her mouth to give him what he wanted, anything to spare herself the harshness of his hand. Her racing mind slowed. Her breath drew in and out of her chest. The steady thump of her heart sounded loud in her ears.

Calder’s face loomed in front of her, brown eyes, pale hair, square jaw, bold nose and chin, a man like any other. His mint breath wafted hot and moist on her face. She had thought him taller, larger. A man, vicious and twisted, but still just a man. Faye probed at the new place within her. Fear, aye, and near to overwhelming, but beneath that, a woman of strength and courage. A woman Faye had faith in. “You will not keep me here.”

Calder’s face tightened in anger. “Aye, I will. You are my wife before man and God.” He dug his fingers into her jaw until she cried out in pain. His delight in her pain spread over his face. “I see you remember.”

“You are hurting me.” His hand over her jaw made it difficult to speak. “Release me.”

Calder jerked his head back. Surprise bloomed over his features for a moment before he threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed against the stone walls and battered against her ears. Calder flung her away from him.

She tripped over the hem of her gown and tumbled to the floor. Her palms slapped against the stone floor and stung. Her knee went numb on impact. The steel tang of blood filled her mouth from where she bit her tongue as she fell.
Whoreson.
Faye eased onto her haunches.

“You have grown a spirit.” Calder crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. “I like it.”

A blur out of the corner of her eye as Simon darted to her. He shook as he pressed his weight into her .

She managed a smile for him. “Are you all right?”

“Come here, boy.” Calder loomed over Simon.

Simon paled. His hands gripped hers as he shook his head.

Never. Faye crawled to block Simon from Calder’s view.

“Do not make me ask you again.” Calder’s voice purred with menace as he took a step toward them. His shadow fell over her.

“Leave him be.” Faye inched her hand into her boot. Her fingers touched sharp steel. She drew it into her palm, hiding her hands in her skirts as she struggled to her feet.

Simon clutched the back of her skirts.

Faye raised her chin and met Calder’s stare. “Your anger is with me.”

Calder’s glare glittered almost black. Color stained his cheeks as he advanced. His breath rasped loud in the still room. “I have not forgotten you, wife. I will deal with you once I have seen to my son.”

She circled to keep Calder in sight. The jewel on the dagger’s guard dug into the soft flesh between her thumb and her fingers as she tightened her grip around the knife.

Calder stopped. He clenched his hand into a fist and raised it. Slowly, he taunted her.

“Do not.” The blow snapped her head to the side and set her ears to ringing. Sweet Jesus, the man did not spare his strength with he struck. Miserable, cowardly swine.

Simon cried out and Faye grabbed his shoulder to keep him where he was. She spat blood at Calder’s feet. “Sodd—”

Heat exploded across her cheek with Calder’s next blow and she staggered to stay upright. The blade cut into the tender flesh of her palm.

“Do you see?” Spittle flecked the side of Calder’s mouth. Rage contorted his features. “Do you see what you have made me do?”

Faye pressed Simon behind her and away.

Calder lunged, and his arm lashed through the air. His fist caught the side of her head and took her right off her feet. Her hip cracked against the floor. Black spots danced in her vision and blood filled her mouth.