The Mercenary's Marriage (10 page)

Brice, who had been watching her hostess
making quick work of cleaning the cereal coated baby, found it
difficult to speak. Dropping her eyes, she examined the bread
before her. “Better, thank you.”

“Good.” Karyn rose and setting the little one
on the floor, she turned to the hearth. “Trenar was not exactly
clear on what happened, but I gathered you had been injured in the
last skirmish and were still recovering.” Moving to the hearth, she
inspected the contents of the large pot hanging directly over the
flames and then the bowl sitting close by with a towel over it. “So
how did you and Darius end up married?”

Brice watched as Karyn went over to a large
wooden cupboard and brought out a flour sack. She wondered how she
was going to explain something she did not even understand. Karyn
set the sack down on the sturdy table with a thud and small clouds
of flour wafted across the wooden surface. She took a handful of
flour out of the bag and began to sprinkle it across the table.

Finally, Brice spoke. “The siege broke, my
master was killed and I was trying to get away when Darius caught
me.” She could still remember the terror and urgency to run and
hide. The almost paralyzing fear that someone would catch her was
only a thought away. She shivered. “He promised to help me, but I
had to do exactly what he said.”

Karyn nodded and a red curl came loose from
her knot. Brushing it back behind her ear with an impatient
movement, she turned again to the hearth. “That sounds like
Darius.” Picking up the large clay bowl, she brought if to the
table. “He gets bossy and overbearing, but he does know how to get
things done. So, you were almost part of the spoils?”

Brice could not manage to meet Karyn’s eyes.
“Yes, I guess so.”

“So, when did the marriage happen?” Karyn
dumped a large mound of dough out of the bowl and onto the
flour-strewn table.

“As soon as we got to their camp.” Brice
picked at the bread. “He insisted it was the only way to keep me
safe.”

As Karyn began kneading the dough, a small
hand explored Brice’s ankle. When she glanced down, Brice found a
pair of bright green eyes regarding her solemnly from under the
table. Karyn spoke, “He was right. The women left undefended after
a city or castle falls are considered part of the reward for the
victor. But as much as he is right, he was pressuring you. Ewian
tries similar tactics with me, but he seldom gets away with it.”
The child below the table lifted her arms to be picked up.
Reluctantly, Brice complied, gritting her teeth against the
resulting pain in her ribs.

“How do you get him to stop without getting
beaten?” Brice asked as she settled the sturdy little girl in her
lap. The girl pulled at Brice’s sleeve and began to sing to
herself.

“What do you mean, beaten?” Karyn asked in a
shocked voice. “Has that man hit you?” She had stopped kneading and
was regarding Brice with a mixture of horror and disbelief on her
face. “I have never known Darius to harm a woman in his life.”

“He hasn’t hit me.” Brice hurried to clarify.
“But…” She was not sure. He was so big and powerful. Every other
man she had ever known had beaten their wife or child regularly.
Was it possible that this man did not?

“But what?” Karyn had resumed the kneading
and reached into the bag for some more flour for the table. “Listen
to me, girl. These men have been on the receiving end of enough
beatings to know how it is. That is why I trust Ewian to never try
something like that with me. There is also the fact he loves me,
but that is beside the point. He has been a slave and knows
first-hand about the humiliation and frustration.” She turned to
wash her hands. “Do you think I would willingly marry the man and
have children with him if he was not trustworthy?” Her dark red
brows were drawn together and the green eyes were sparkling as she
looked back over her shoulder at Brice.

Brice was surprised at the woman’s reaction.
“I did not know you had a choice,” she murmured quietly.

“Yes, I had a choice.” Karyn dried her hands
and then lifted a pan off a nearby hook. “Didn’t you?” Setting the
pan on the table, she started to form loaves. Brice watched her
fingers coaxing the dough into smooth lumps the perfect size for
the compartments in the metal sheet.

Darius had given her a choice in the garden,
sort of. He had given her a choice right before they were married.
Of course, the alternatives to both decisions would have been
painful and he had been extremely clear about what he wanted her to
choose, but he had still given her a choice. Finally, as the last
lump settled into the pan, Brice admitted, “Yes, I had a
choice.”

Karyn’s hands stilled and Brice looked up at
her face. She was watching her with a thoughtful look on her face.
“He will give you choices, Brice. And if you let him, I would
venture to guess he will love you. He is a good man.” Then, she
smiled warmly. “I am happy he has finally married and given me a
companion.” Lifting the pan and turning to open the oven door, she
declared. “When I am through, you will know how to be a good
soldier’s wife.”

Brice was surprised to find she actually
wanted to try.

The sky was just turning rosy above the
trees. As Ewian had predicted, they were about to make their move.
Darius glanced around for the fifth time in so many minutes.
Scattered about the King in a pattern that at first glance did not
appear planned were four others besides him. The rest of their
small army was similarly arranged in random groups and trying to
act casual.

Ewian caught his eye but his face remained
impassive. Earlier, they had agreed that they were not pleased with
how the situation looked. Darius hated letting the king walk in
with them. But their company was small and they needed every man
and more. According to the message that had arrived during the
night, the main army was roughly four hours behind them. So close,
but too far. He only hoped they appeared in time. At least their
current group had only to hold out until then.

The signal was given and they began to move.
Keeping the King within his sight, Darius readjusted his grip on
the reins and focused on the walls coming into view. For the
fiftieth time in the past hour, he mentally ran down his gear and
its careful placement on him and his horse. His mail lay heavy
beneath his leather and metal jerkin. His heavy cloak concealed the
dagger in his belt and his shield was carefully attached to the
travel gear behind him to hide the hilt of his sword within easy
reach. Looking around casually, he tried to relax and prepare his
mind for the madness to come.

He found himself thinking of Brice. If all
was well, she was safely with Karyn and the children. She was
protected by strong walls and Ewian’s wife’s knowledge of how to
protect her family in this type of situation. As much as he missed
her presence, he knew she was safer inside the castle and city
walls. Now he would be free to defend his master and king without
the distraction of protecting her and worrying that his failure
might bring her death. Somehow the thought of her death caused him
more dread than that of his king or himself. The fact he did not
fear his death did not surprise him. He had been facing the
possibility of his life ending in the next instant for all of his
days. As soldier and bodyguard, he had been entrusted with other
men’s lives more times than he could count, but never had one life
been so much more important than the others. Disturbed by the
course of his thoughts, Darius broke them off.

All he could hear was the creaking of leather
and metal and the heavy plodding of horseshoes on grass and dirt.
Some of the men started up nervous conversations. The guise of
relaxed banter was good, but Darius hoped none of the men at the
gates would be able to hear the actual words. The hearing of the
discourse of the younger pair to his right was a dead giveaway that
something was wrong. The men were too nervous to think
straight.

“It looks like rain,” the one said in a
monotone.

“The clouds are certainly gray,” the second
replied in a strained voice that cracked on the word gray. He did
not spare a glance for the clear blue sky above his head.

“Do you suppose the farmers will have a good
harvest?” the first continued.

“Apples were in season last month.”

Ewian edged his stallion closer to the
king’s. Darius turned his attention away from the nonsensical
conversation. Dropping back behind the king’s right flank, he
scanned the top of the walls just visible beyond the trees. Not
many metal helmets caught the sunlight. He wondered if that number
would increase as they approached.

They rounded the last grove of trees and the
walls and the entrance came into view. The short drawbridge was
down, the main city gate with its large doors stood wide, and the
heavy iron portcullis was raised so only the spikes showed below
the arch. Darius edged closer to the king’s flank. This was going
too well. Something was amiss.

As they approached, there was no shout of
greeting or challenge from the walls and only ten or so guardsmen
were visible on the outside of the gate. Darius watched the
gatehouse above the doors. That was where the large gears worked to
lower and raise the portcullis. No activity or movement could be
seen. The great doors of the gate opened outward so that the
portcullis supported them from within when they were closed. A
second set of even heavier doors could be closed on the opposite
side of the portcullis so it was enclosed by the two sets.

Darius’ task was to get the King through and
to a meeting place of safety. They were expecting a long battle in
the streets and the King needed to be able to command the men from
a hidden stronghold. Darius already had a place in mind deep in the
old city.

Most of the other men were instructed to
scatter and build barricades in the streets. Hopefully most of the
citizens would be helpful. If they were, there was a chance of
success. If not, the cause was essentially doomed.

The shadow of the wall fell over them and
they passed into the tight courtyard immediately inside the gate.
An armed company awaited them and began to escort them toward the
castle that loomed on the hill above the city. Behind them a crowd
had gathered, probably citizens, their daily routine interrupted by
the king’s arrival. Keeping his eyes sharp, Darius looked about for
the best avenue of escape. He wanted to have the king off the main
street before the worst of the madness began.

Only moments before the loud boom of the
portcullis closing echoed through the streets, Darius spotted the
street he was seeking. Signaling the King and the rest of his
circle to follow him, Darius suddenly turned his horse and plunged
into the crowd. He had chosen a place where the crush was thinner
so the likelihood of someone getting trampled was smaller.
Reassured by the clatter of hooves behind him, he galloped down the
cobblestone alley and into the cramped squalor of the old city.

Four hours later, Darius scowled as he
carefully moved the leather sleeve of his jerkin over the bandage
wrapping his upper arm. It still hurt. “Be careful not to start the
bleeding again,” Kurt cautioned. Darius grimaced in response. He
had been injured often enough to know the drill.

“How long?” Darius asked as he eased the
garment over the rest of him. The healer helped.

“Don’t use it for a few days at least.” The
older man started lacing the front of the shirt.

“Kurt, do you really believe I am going to be
able to do that?” Darius grimaced again as he reached for his
cloak. The man was an idiot if he thought Darius was going to be
able to nurse himself. They were fighting for the city and the king
needed all the protection and support he could get. Half of the men
were trying to get the main gate open before their reinforcements
appeared and the other half were trying to get into the castle
where the leaders of the rebellion had barricaded themselves in
with hostages from the royal family.

The healer frowned in response. “I am aware
of the circumstances, boy. I just would hate for Brice to miss out
on the joy of growing old before she is widowed.”

Darius paused at the thought in spite of the
fact it had crossed his mind frequently in the past few hours. “The
thought of dying had crossed my mind, old man. I do not consider
myself invincible.” Awkwardly he tried to swing his cloak across
his shoulder with one hand. It fell short. “At least she would be a
free widow. You know that our marriage makes her no longer a
slave.”

The healer caught the slipping cloth and
assisted him in fastening it so it fell over his bad left arm. “I
figured that was part of the reason, but widowhood is still nothing
to be desired, whether one is free or not. And marriage to a
one-armed mercenary is not much better.” Patting Darius’ right arm,
Kurt looked up at him briefly. “Besides, I have grown fond of you.
Now get.” He shooed Darius toward the hall. “And send in the next
man as you leave.”

Obediently, Darius stepped into the dim and
cramped passage. Two men stood next to the door, one leaning
against the wall and looking quite gray. “He is waiting,” he
muttered before heading to the stair to the common room below.

The Falcon Claw Inn’s common room was empty
except for three men leaning over the table in the back corner. As
Darius approached, the center man lifted his head. “If you are
ready, Darius, we are to head toward the castle and find a way in.
The king needs us to open the gates from the inside.” Jarn’s eyes
challenged Darius to turn down the assignment.

“Then let us go. I know a back way in.”
Darius turned and headed for the door. He could hear Jarn’s hurried
shuffling gait as he tried to catch up. The man was a good soldier,
but Darius had never gotten along easily with him. He always had an
underlying tone to his voice that reeked of contempt.