The Fallen One (31 page)

    
He lifted his eyebrows
thoughtfully. “Hopefully Westbury will be returned to me when de Beaumont’s
armies are victorious,” he said. “We will be going to the Welsh Marches.”

    
“I have never been
there,” she said. “What is it like?”

    
He thought on Alderbury
Castle, a place he hadn’t seen in a very long time.
 
“Very mountainous,” he said. “There are
dramatic rivers and tall mountains, green hills and big valleys.
 
I think you will like it a great deal.”

    
“I am sure I will,”
she said, stroking his cheek. “I am looking forward to raising our children
there.”

    
He smiled faintly. “As
am I,” he murmured, kissing her soft mouth. “Many, many children.”

    
His words were drowned
out as he slanted of her lips hungrily, feeding on the adoration and passion he
felt for the woman. All was well between them and that was all he cared
about.
 
He could focus on the army, and
Scotland, tomorrow because tonight, all he could think of was Cathlina. He
would give her every last bit of himself tonight and tuck the memories away to
comfort himself with for times when he was feeling particularly lonely. Tonight,
there was only the two of them, bathing in a warmth and a love that was only
once told of in legend.

    
Tonight, it belonged
to them.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Two
months later

    
August had burst upon
the north of England in a riot of wildflowers.
 
Everything that could possibly bloom was blooming because it had been
very wet a few weeks earlier in the season and now it was sunny and warm.
 
At Kirklinton Castle, it was now a game to
coerce Saer into allowing the elder daughters out of the castle long enough to
collect a wagonload of flower.
  
He
didn’t like the girls out and exposed so much but he couldn’t resist their
begging, so he usually ended up escorting them to the meadows where the blooms
were calling their name.

    
In spite of the
glorious weather, Abechail’s health had been in rapid decline the past few
months but more succinctly in the last few weeks.
 
She was confined to bed mostly now because she
was too weak to go about her daily routine as she usually had.
 
Rosalund had the servants move her bed near
the windows so she could at least look outside and she spent most of her time
feeling the warm caress of a breeze on her face and watching the birds ride the
drafts.
 
Still, no one spoke of her
illness or her impending death. Rosalund wouldn’t allow it and no one else was
willing to face it, so Abechail fell into steady decline as the world went on
around her.

    
Still, there was some
joy in the de Lara household now that Cathlina was returned.
 
She had come home about a month earlier,
escorted by the Earl of Carlisle’s men, rosy and beautiful and happy.
 
She also happened to be Lady de Reyne and
pregnant, although she hadn’t figured it out yet until her mother had informed
her what the symptoms her body was displaying meant.
 
Then, no one could be angry at her for
running off and marrying Mathias, and Saer certainly couldn’t be upset with
Mathias considering where the man was and what he was doing.
 
The escort from Carlisle Castle had been sure
to tell him that he was now fighting in Scotland for Henry de Beaumont.
 
Moreover, Mathias was to be the father of his
grandson.
 
Odd how old angers and
prejudices towards Mortimer’s former attack dog suddenly dissolved with a child
on the way and the fact that he was now evidently a restored knight.

    
Therefore, now in
mid-August, things were nearly normal again; Roxane and Cathlina argued from
time to time, Saer spent a good deal of his time on patrol of Carlisle lands with
the earl in Scotland, and Abechail and Rosalund spent most of their waking
hours together.
 
Life was good for the
most part, and it was typical, and no one tried to think on the horrors hanging
over their head.
 
For now, they pretended
it was all happy because it was easiest to cope that way.

    
The third week in
August dawned warm and pleasant, as most of the days of the month had
been.
 
Cathlina rose before Roxane, as
was usual, and called for warmed rosewater to bathe in.
 
Surprisingly, she was feeling very well in early
pregnancy with none of the illness that she’d heard tale about.
 
Her belly was taut and slightly rounded, but
that was the only sign that she was pregnant other than her womanly cycles had
ceased.
 
Daily she dreamed about telling
Mathias of his son and wondering if his excitement would match her own.
 
Hourly, she thought of him and of his trials
in Scotland, praying he was well. She had become very pious over the past few
weeks, praying daily at Kirklinton’s small chapel for Mathias’ safety and
Abechail’s health.

    
After she bathed, she
donned a soft yellow surcoat and shift, of lightweight linen in the warmer
temperatures, and braided her long hair in two pretty braids to keep her heavy
hair off her neck.
 
Then she scurried
next door to Abechail’s chamber and crawled onto the bed with her younger
sister, who was just starting to awaken.
 
Abechail giggled sleepily when Cathlina lay
down beside her and gently tickled.

    
“Awaken, Abbie,” she
said, kissing her sister’s cheek. “How are you feeling this morning?”

    
Abechail was as pale
as death but smiled at her sister. “The same,” she said. “How is the baby? I
cannot wait to see him.”

    
Cathlina fought back
the gut-wrenching sadness of Abechail’s future, instead choosing to indulge the
girl. There was no use in doing otherwise; if she was to dream, make them great
and pleasant dreams.

    
“You will have to wait
until spring to see him,” she said. “What do you suppose his name shall be? It
should be something grand.”

    
“What would Mathias
name him?”

    
Cathlina shrugged. “We
have never spoken of children. I do not know.”

    
Abechail sighed
faintly, her gaze inevitably moving to the lancet window near her head where
she could see the brilliant blue sky beyond.

    
“A grand name would be
an ancient and powerful name,” she said. “Do you see the birds outside? There
is a family of hawks in the stones near the gatehouse and I have given them all
great names.”

    
“What are their
names?”

    
“Magnus, Maximus,
Tiberius, and Lucius,” she said. “I have named them after Romans.”

    
Cathlina grinned.
“Where have you heard such names?”

    
Abechail looked at
her, a twinkle in her eye. “The same place you have,” she said. “Father has
told me stories of the Romans who used to live here.
 
He said there was a Roman fort not far from
here and Magnus, Maximus, Tiberius, and Lucius were the soldiers there who held
off an entire clan of Scots one day.
 
They were very brave.”

    
Cathlina laughed
softly. “I think that Father mayhap made the story up.”

    
“It is a true story!”

    
Cathlina hugged her.
“As you say, little pigeon,” she said affectionately. “Now, then; do you feel
like going outside today? Roxane and I found an entire field of blue bells
nearby.
 
You would love to see them.”

    
Abechail’s weary eyes
lit up. “I would,” she agreed. “Do you think we can go this morning?”

    
Cathlina nodded and
climbed out of the bed. “I will go speak to Father now. I will return shortly.”

    
Abechail had a bit of
pink color in her cheeks at the excitement of going outside this day. Cathlina
quickly left the chamber, nearly running her mother down in the landing outside
the door.
 
Rosalund had Abechail’s
morning meal in her hands and only by swift action managed to keep it steady
when Cathlina crashed into her.
 

    
“Heavens, Cathlina,”
Rosalund exclaimed. “Slow down, child. You must take care of that babe you are
carrying and tripping down the stairs in your haste will see him come to great
harm.”

    
Cathlina kissed her
mother on the cheek. “I will not trip down the stairs,” she assured her. “Abbie
says she feels well enough to ride out today.
 
May we go?”

    
Rosalund looked
dubious. “I am not sure,” she replied. “Let us see how she feels after her
meal. Sometimes she sleeps the rest of the morning after she eats.”

    
Cathlina knew that but
she struggled not to let the mood dampen.
 
“Very well,” she said. “But I will go to the
stables and have the carriage prepared anyway.
 
Surely a small trip will do her some good.”

    
Her mother didn’t
reply as she continued to Abechail’s chamber, mostly because she would not
comment on her daughter’s impending fate and they all knew it.
 
Replies were not expected.
 
Cathlina therefore continued to the lower
level of Kirklinton’s keep and out into the mild summer day.

    
As she crossed the
bailey and stopped to pet a friendly dog that usually hung around the great
hall, she noticed that the portcullis was lifted and her father was speaking
with several soldiers.
 
She also happened
to notice that they were bearing Carlisle colors. Curious, she headed towards
the gatehouse.
 
Perhaps it was news from
Scotland and she was eager to hear it.

    
Saer saw her
approaching from the corner of his eye, her yellow surcoat billowing in the
breeze.
 
He turned his attention to her
even though the Carlisle soldiers were still speaking.
 
When she finally came upon them, he held up a
hand to silence the soldiers.

    
“Cathlina,” he said.
“I am glad you are here. It seems that we have news from de Beaumont’s wars.”

    
“Truly?” she was very excited
to know. “What is it?”

    
Saer motioned at the
sergeant from Carlisle. “This is my daughter, Lady de Reyne,” he told him. “You
will tell her what you just told me.”

    
The sergeant bowed
towards Cathlina. “My lady,” he said. “I bring news of a great victory in
Scotland at Dupplin Moor. Henry de Beaumont and his English allies have
triumphed over a great Scots army.
 
Edward Balliol is now upon the throne. We are told that your husband was
instrumental in planning and executing a battle against a greater Scots
force.
 
He was victorious, my lady.
Balliol owes his crown to him.”

    
Cathlina was stunned
but in the same breath, she felt nothing but pride and joy at that moment.
  
She thought her heart my actually burst with
it all.

“Is he well?” she asked eagerly. “What of
the Earl of Carlisle and his other knights? Are they all well?”

    
The sergeant nodded.
“We are told they all survived except for Sir Justus de Reyne,” he said. “The
man had been wounded in a previous battle and succumbed to his injuries.”

    
The smile vanished
from Cathlina’s face. “He… he is dead?”

    
“Aye, my lady,” the
man replied. “His body was sent back to Carlisle along with the announcement of
victory.
 
Lady de Lara said we should
come immediately to inform you.”

    
Cathlina stared at the
man a moment longer before glancing to her father.
 
Then she turned away.

    
“Poor Justus,” she
murmured, struggling not to burst into tears. “Mathias must be shattered. Oh,
my poor love.”

    
Saer watched his
daughter as she wrestled with her grief.
 
He did not know Justus de Reyne but she obviously did and was
saddened.
 
He turned back to the
sergeant.

    
“You were also telling
me about Carlisle’s concerns for our safety,” he said. “You will continue.”

    
The sergeant nodded
swiftly. “Lord de Lara states that the defeated Scots have fled south and there
is rumor that the Earl of Mar intends to attack Carlisle holdings in revenge
for Carlisle’s participation in the battle,” he said. “If they do decide to
attack, the earl and his army will not make it back in time to fend them off. You
are to secure Kirklinton until the earl returns from Scotland and the threat
can be more readily accessed.
 
He fears
the Scots will try to attack before he can reach home.”

    
Saer could see all
aspects of that potentially devastating information; if the Scots reached
Carlisle or Kirklinton before Tate returned with the majority of his army, the
results would be horrific.

    
“Is the threat
credible?” he asked the man.

    
The sergeant was
serious. “We were told that when the battle for the throne was over, the armies
of the defeated scattered,” he said. “De Lara fears they have scattered south
and are heading our way.”

    
Saer pondered that
information carefully.
  
“If that is
true, then I think mayhap we should vacate Kirklinton altogether and ride for
Carlisle Castle,” he said. “Kirklinton is a smaller outpost and cannot
withstand a massive Scots offensive.”

    
“It would not be wise
to leave now, my lord.”

    
“Why not?”

    
The sergeant shook his
head to emphasize his point. “You must not risk transporting your family over
miles of open road,” he said. “We have no idea where the Scots army is; they
could be upon us tomorrow for all we know. You would be safer to stay here and
reinforce your lines.”