Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (15 page)

"That will depend on how many men will be garrisoned there."

"Soon we will cross the Scottish border, and turn east for Roxburgh Castle. Aymer de Valence will have some word about the garrison for Elladoune."

An idea had occurred to Gawain a while back, and he acted on it quickly. "Tell me what you learn, then. I will part from your escort at the end of this road to take the east fork into Northumberland."

De Soulis stared at him. "I have seen no orders on that."

Gawain patted his tunic. "I have a safe conduct to visit my family's home at Avenel Castle." He had obtained it before the feast, the wedding, and the king's new orders. "I plan to stay at Avenel for a few days. I will cross into Scotland to meet you and the others. The lady goes with me," he added firmly.

"But she is in the care of my escort!"

"I will not leave my bride in the company of men without even a woman to care for her. Surely you realize the problems in bringing a female prisoner into a large military castle like Roxburgh."

"My orders state that the Swan Maiden is to be chained and guarded at all times. She will be put in the dungeon at Roxburgh until we finish our meetings."

"She will be well guarded at Henry Avenel's castle. King Edward himself visits there often enough, and would surely approve his friend's authority—where you seem to question it."

De Soulis groused, then relented. "One day, and no more."

"Four," Gawain replied.

"Impossible. Two days."

"Very well. On the second day hence, at midday, I will meet you at an inn on the Scottish side of the border near Kelso."

"I know the place." De Soulis nodded. "Take part of the guard with you when you depart."

"My mother will not appreciate a military guard at her home," Gawain answered. "Nor would Sir Henry Avenel."

"I do not like this. But your father, at least, can be trusted. 'Tis best not to take a female prisoner into Roxburgh, as you say. Very well. Midday on Saturday, at the inn outside of Kelso."

Gawain nodded, then urged his horse ahead to join Laurie. He looked back at Juliana. She rested again, head leaned against the hay bale, eyes closed. She drooped like a bedraggled white flower, her gown and feathered cap rumpled and soiled.

He watched the wife he scarcely knew, and wondered about the curious mix of fragility and fire in her. Last night the spark and will in her had intrigued him, and her presence in his bed had heated a passionate urge that he could barely ignore.

He wondered about her chosen silence, and the whisperings of enchantment. Had that come from the rumor he himself had started, years ago, as Elladoune burned? The legend had grown around her, and he very much wanted to know why.

* * *

"Juliana."

She awoke when a hand touched her shoulder, and opened her eyes. Gawain stood beside the cart. His face showed concern, his black brows drawn over thick-lashed brown eyes. His hand and voice were gentle.

"My lady. Wake up, now. We have reached the split in the road. Come with me." He reached into the cart, taking her arm, urging her to sit up.

She did so, head spinning. Leaving, she told herself; she was leaving the escort. That gave her strength to move, no matter how groggy she felt.

She wanted to ask him where they were going, but could not, with so many men watching them.

Gawain scooped his arms under her and lifted her out of the cart, setting her on her feet, chains chinking. The earth felt solid and good beneath her feet after so long in the cart. And his arms felt good around her.

De Soulis watched with the others, his face a harsh mask. Gawain led her toward Galienne, the gray palfrey. Then he took a small iron key from his belt pouch and inserted it first into the golden collar and then in the wrist manacles. Within moments, she was free of the burden of golden links.

She smiled up at him, but he did not look at her. Boosting her into the saddle, he turned away, golden chains glinting in his hand.

She sighed with relief, looking around, wondering if they had reached Scotland, though the landscape still looked flat and green and English to her. Something had happened while she slept. She felt mildly confused, but at least the effects of the wine had lessened.

"What are you doing?" De Soulis cantered toward them. "The king ordered her chained at all times! I agreed for you to take her, but you have no authority to free her of her bonds."

"I will not present my bride to my mother in chains." He stuffed the links into the pack behind the cantle and swung up into the bay's saddle.

She stared at him. Mother? She wished she could ask where he was taking her. She did not want to go to his English castle. How would she ever get back to Scotland?

"Take a guard with you," De Soulis snapped. "She is a valuable prisoner and cannot be let loose."

"She will go nowhere, I assure you. Look at her, man. She is so weak she can barely sit her horse. A few days of rest will not change her captivity, but might save her health."

"You should not have custody of that key! I will report this to the king and his advisors."

"Report it to whom you like," Gawain said. "Tell them I treat the woman with courtesy."

"You cannot be trusted," De Soulis sputtered.

"The dungeon cells at Avenel Castle," Gawain said, "are in good repair."

Juliana, listening avidly, gaped at him. She was to be transferred to another English dungeon—with the knowledge and consent of Gawain's own mother, apparently.

Gawain ignored her look of alarm. He took hold of her palfrey's rein and pulled as he rode ahead. Juliana swayed in the saddle, knees gripping tight. The summer air was sweet on her bare wrists and throat, but her heart beat heavily.

After a few moments Juliana heard the escort canter away in the opposite direction. Relieved to be free of the humiliation of riding in the cart, she felt wary. Her Swan Knight had rescued her once again—only to draw her deeper into uncertainty.

If she could have escaped then and there, she would have done so.

Chapter 11

They left the stone road and traveled steadily over grassy hills until they followed the path of a narrow river. At last, in the distance, Juliana saw a castle on a green hillock. Gawain slowed to look at it, then started forward, leading her horse at a fast pace as if eager to get there.

The square walls and central keep shone creamy against the backdrop of a dense greenwood, and the calm river flowed past the side of the mound. Juliana gasped at the lovely picture, feeling a sense of surprise. She had always imagined English castles to be brute fortifications teeming with enemy soldiers. Avenel Castle looked like a haven out of a legend, beautiful enough to house faery royalty.

Following Gawain, she rode across the drawbridge, the horses' hooves pounding over the wooden slats, and passed beneath a raised portcullis into the cool shadow of a stone arch. Inside the enclosed courtyard, instead of armed knights, she saw two young pages run forward and wait for them to dismount.

"Gawain!" Hearing a light female voice, Juliana turned, still in the saddle. The square keep, massive and high, dominated the courtyard, and an open flight of stone steps led from its upper doorway. A young girl descended the stairs, calling out excitedly, dark braids flying out behind her.

"Eleanor!" Gawain answered. He dismounted and swept her up into his arms, spinning her around. She was slight, though tall, and giggled as she threw her arms around him. Juliana judged her to be about thirteen, and assumed she must be a sister to her husband; their dark hair and handsome features were similar.

Gawain laughed and set her down, and she beamed up at him. "Ah," he said, "'tis not Eleanor, but Catherine!"

"Aye, Catherine," she confirmed, smiling.

"Gawain!" A second girl ran down the steps. She was a mirror of the first, from the long dark braids plaited with red ribbons to the bright blue gown banded in embroidery. Juliana blinked in amazement, and glanced from one to the other.

"Here is Eleanor!" Gawain caught the second girl as she hurtled toward him, and hugged her.

"Robin arrived yesterday!" Eleanor said.

"He said he was not certain when you would come, but that you would bring a bride when you did," Catherine said.

Both girls looked toward Juliana. "Greetings," they said together in eerie echo. "You must be Juliana," one went on. "Welcome to Avenel."

Juliana stared from one girl to the other, unsmiling despite their beaming smiles. Overwhelmed and uncertain, she felt outside the joy of the moment. She wondered if he would introduce her as his bride or his captive. She was so weary she wanted to fall from the horse, but was not sure if she would awaken in a featherbed or a dungeon cell.

"What did Robin tell you?" Gawain asked.

"That you had wed a lovely Scottish woman on the king's wishes, and that she would be exhausted when you arrived—if you arrived at all. He was not certain you would stop here."

"We hoped you would not be so cruel as that!"

He glanced at Juliana. "Lovely and tired, indeed, and very much a surprise from the king. Lady Juliana, these are my half sisters, Eleanor"—he nodded toward the one standing to his right—"and Catherine."

Juliana nodded and said nothing. The girls bowed and smiled prettily. They were dark, slender creatures with eyes of a startling gray-green. While they were old enough to display the courtesy and decorum of ladies, they seemed young enough to lapse into bubbly giggles and expressive looks and grimaces.

"Come inside and meet our mother," one of the twins said, and gave Juliana a dazzling smile.

Gawain walked toward Juliana and put his hands around her waist. "I beg you to show only sweetness at Avenel Castle, if you will," he murmured as he slid her down from the horse.

He brushed her hair from her brow in a gentle gesture that made her blink and blush. "Silence," he whispered, "might keep the soldiers away, but will only make my little sisters more curious. You may speak to anyone at Avenel without fear." He circled an arm around her shoulders and turned with her.

Both girls came forward to hug her. Juliana returned their embraces tentatively and said nothing, wholly uncertain if she should speak, or what to say.

The twins fell upon Gawain, who laughingly fended them off. "You did not send word of your marriage, you great oaf!" one chattered. "When did you wed?"

"Two days ago. The ceremony happened rather suddenly."

"We thought you would never marry," one girl said. "Mother thought 'twas hopeless. You know she has longed for this day!"

"I know," he said quietly, glancing at Juliana.

"We have, too," her sister added. "But we gave up on you—"

"After all that wooing, and all those rejections—"

"Hush, Cat, you will frighten my bride with such stories," Gawain said hastily. "How is our lady mother? Well enough to bear this surprise?"

"She already knows," Eleanor said. At least, Juliana thought it might be Eleanor, for she had noticed that her face seemed a bit rounder than her sister's, her laugh lower. "Robin told her."

"'Twas a shock, but she took it well," Catherine said.

"'A Scot,' she kept saying," Eleanor added. "'A Scot,' as if she could not quite believe you would wed a Scotswoman now, with the war on. A Scottish bride for an Avenel is not so favorable, but I think 'tis wonderful because you—"

"'Tis fine," Gawain said brusquely. "Do not fret. Come, Lady Juliana," he said, tugging on her arm, for she had stepped back at the implication that a Scottish woman might not be welcome here after all. "Come. I want you to meet my mother. Is she in her chamber, Nell?"

"Where else, these days? Robin was sitting with her earlier, but he left, and she napped for a bit," Eleanor said.

"She is awake now. I just came from there," Catherine added. "She will want to see your bride right away, of course!"

Gawain nodded and walked toward the keep, his hand firm around Juliana's elbow. She went silently, slowly, feeling as if her legs had turned to pudding from apprehension and weariness.