The Silken Cord (20 page)

“John, nay,” Dafydd shouted, but too
late.

Jenkin whirled about and slashed the man’s
middle with his sword. John screamed and fell back onto the
landing.

Jenkin pushed the door closed, but he
couldn’t lock it. Markus stumbled to his feet.

“Don’t move,” Jenkin growled and the boy
froze.

“You killed him,” Dafydd cried, sniffling.
“He was good to me and you killed him.”

“I’m…sorry. I didn’t know.” Jenkin
staggered, reaching out a hand to brace against the wall.

“Jenkin, are you all right?” Ariana pushed
Dafydd behind her and clutched her dagger in her fist. Her heart
pounded as she waited to see if other guards tried to storm the
room.

“He struck my shoulder, nothing more.”
Nodding his head, Jenkin eyed the door. No one came. All was quiet,
except for an occasional shout in the bailey below and the subtle
sound of steel clashing against steel.

The battle had begun.

Their men must have gained entry to the
castle. The desire to go and help Wulfgar was strong, but Ariana
knew she couldn’t leave Dafydd.

“Ariana.” Jenkin stumbled again, the color
draining from his face. His right hand gripped his sword, his left
hand raised to her in supplication.

He coughed and bloody spittle stained the
corner of his mouth. His legs buckled and he slumped on the
floor.

“Jenkin.” She ran to him.

This was no shoulder wound. He was wounded
worse than she’d thought. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the
thick carpet. Markus shifted on the chair, his face white with
horror. Ariana knelt beside Jenkin.

“Jenkin, let me check the damage.” Tears
blinded her and she brushed them away.

He grasped her hand, pulling it to his
chest, just over his heart. “Nay, princess. Let me look at you one
last time.”

A lump formed in her throat. She could
hardly breathe. “Jenkin, please.”

“I’ve loved you all my life.”

How could he say such a thing now, after
she’d spurned him? She felt unworthy of his devotion.

Wretched.

Dafydd knelt beside Jenkin and cupped his
hands around the fallen man’s arm. “Jenkin? Are you gonna be all
right?”

Ariana gave a shaky laugh. “Of course he
is.”

But she knew better. He was dying. She could
hear it in the way his breath rattled through his lungs.

Jenkin. Her loyal protector.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her
fingers and showed a faint smile. Then he relaxed his hold and
exhaled slowly. His eyes stared at her, glazed in death.

Ariana felt the color drain from her face.
Jenkin was dead. It had happened so fast, she could hardly believe
it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she closed
her throat around a sob. She’d never get the chance to thank him.
Never be able to make amends for breaking his heart.

Dear Jenkin. She had wronged him, but she
couldn’t promise him her heart when it belonged to another.

Ariana reached to close his eyelids and then
lowered her cheek to press against his, shuddering as sobs tore
from her throat. “Rest well, my dear friend.”

Dafydd sat beside Jenkin, his young face
etched with grief as tears poured down his cheeks. He threw himself
into her arms, sobbing. She smoothed his hair and held his
trembling body, taking comfort that he was all right.

“It’s my fault he died. If he hadn’t come to
save me, he’d still be alive,” the boy cried in a mournful
whisper.

Markus coughed and Ariana looked up, seeing
his eyes crinkled with compassion. She hadn’t thought Edwin’s son
would be tender-hearted. Yet, it seemed to be true.

“Hush, now. It’s not your fault.” Ariana
soothed Dafydd. “He died defending us. Never forget the sacrifice
others have made to keep you safe.”

With their father and brothers gone, Ariana
felt it her duty to teach Dafydd to be a king. And she was
determined to teach him mercy as well as duty.

“Now, you must be strong,” she urged. “A
good king must be resolute, but also have compassion for his
people. You’ve learned a valuable lesson today. Never take your
people for granted.”

Nodding his head, Dafydd let go of her and
stood, his gaze trained on Jenkin’s ashen face. Dafydd blinked his
eyes and hardened his small jaw, but didn’t look at all convinced
as he sniffed noisily.

Markus. How could she protect Dafydd and
keep Markus from running away?

She couldn’t. Not if he was determined to
escape.

The sounds of battle increased. Screams and
shouts filled the air, accompanied by loud thuds and clash of
arms.

It wasn’t safe to remain here. More guards
could discover them at any moment.

Ariana was alone, the only protection her
brother had. She hated to leave Jenkin, but she must get Dafydd
outside the castle.

The secret passageway!

“Come on.” She pulled Dafydd to his
feet.

Markus stood against the wall and she
wondered what to do about him. Never could she harm him. But she
might need some bargaining power before they escaped the
castle.

“You’ll come with us,” she told Markus.

He clenched his jaw and nodded. “All right.
I don’t a…agree with how my father has t…treated your people.”

His tone was laced with disdain and it was
obvious the boy bore his father no affection. He might yet try to
escape. So be it. Her first priority must be to Dafydd.

Grasping her dagger, she led the way and
hurried down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom when she heard
guards searching below in the dungeon.

“Er, do you think they was trying to free
the prisoner?”

“Aye, but Fulcher must have surprised ‘em.
The prisoner is still locked in his cell.”

Poor Vachel. They couldn’t reach the secret
passageway.

Turning in the opposite direction, Ariana
led the two boys out into the bailey. It was dark and the chill air
embraced them. Confusion filled the yard as people ran about in the
darkness. Men were screaming, slashing at one another with swords,
axes, and any other weapon they could find.

Evan! He stood with many other Welshmen,
fighting to gain entry into the winch room so they could raise the
portcullis.

Other Welshmen were rounding up Edwin’s
mercenaries at sword point. As evidenced by their bare feet, lack
of clothing, and sparse weapons, most of them had been taken by
surprise.

Where was Wulfgar?

Torches flickered along the ramparts. It
would be morning soon. The sky had lightened, a flush of orange to
chase away the dark.

Inhaling the chill air, Ariana saw puffs of
breath as she exhaled. She skimmed the wall of the gatehouse,
holding tight to Dafydd’s hand. Markus followed behind, but she
expected him to bolt at any moment.

Where should they go?

The sally port! Wulfgar had told Ariana it
sat on the east side of the gatehouse. An outcropping of rock on
the outside of the castle wall shielded it from casual view.
Perhaps she could find it in all the confusion of fighting men.

She peered at the buildings, trying to get
her bearings. She stood with Markus and Dafydd on the west side of
the gatehouse. Men fought in the bailey, blocking their way. If she
could skirt around to the other side of the castle, they might be
safe.

Pulling Dafydd with her, she raced along the
inner wall, aware of someone high upon the ramparts shouting at
them. Booming voices could be heard and Ariana knew they’d been
seen.

Something whizzed past her face and thunked
into the ground at her feet. An arrow!

On she ran, dodging slashing swords and axes
as men battled against each other. Dark shapes unfolded at the top
of the wall. Dogs barked, snapping at her heels.

She jumped over a dead man lying sprawled
across their path. The scent of death filled the air.

One of Edwin’s mercenaries whirled on her so
fast she almost charged into his burly chest. Inhaling a sharp
breath, she sucked in her stomach to evade the slicing arc of his
sword. The sharp point clipped her left hand, drawing blood. She
bit back a cry at the stinging pain.

The giant man loomed over her, his angular
face cast in shadow.

Merciless.

“Look out,” she shouted, trying to push
Dafydd back. Her ankle twisted beneath her and she groaned.

Sensing easy prey, the giant’s eyes filled
with venom, his mouth curved into a cruel grin.

Oh, where was Wulfgar when she needed
him?

“Stay back,” she warned the giant as she
brandished her dagger. She stabbed the air in a threatening
gesture, but the man laughed at her puny effort, his great chest
shaking with mirth.

“Oww,” he yelped when Dafydd snuck up on his
side and drew back his foot to kick him in the shin with his
pointed shoes.

“You leave my sister alone.” The boy kicked
him again hard.

The giant’s hollow eyes widened then gleamed
deadly. Ariana saw the flash of his teeth as his lips curled in a
sneer. “You’ll pay for that, little whelp.”

The mercenary never saw the club of wood
being aimed at his head. Climbing on the woodpile, Markus smacked
the man just above his left ear with a stick of firewood. The giant
tilted to the side and grunted.

Markus had helped them.

Ariana had no time to consider why. The
hulking brute turned on Markus, drawing back his arm to thrust with
his sword. Markus’s eyes widened but he sprang off the woodpile and
dodged the blow. The giant roared with rage.

Now was her chance!

Ariana stabbed toward the man’s chest, but
he shifted his weight and she clipped his shoulder instead. Blood
spattered across her tunic and his angry bellow filled her
ears.

Smack!

With a powerful swipe of his hand, he
knocked her back and she rolled across the ground, her ears
ringing. She blinked her eyes, trying to focus. The giant drew back
his sword and faced Markus.

A blaze of panic tore up her throat. He
would kill the boy.

The mercenary paused, jutting his chin, his
brow furrowed. “You! What are you about, boy? Where’s your
father?”

Thank goodness he recognized Markus.

“Leave him alone.” Dafydd battered the man
with his small fists. The boy wasn’t strong enough to do any
damage. Instead, Dafydd’s weight buckled the giant’s legs and the
man fell to his knees.

Thud!

Lashing out with his fist, the warrior
knocked Dafydd back in the dirt. Dafydd landed on his hands and
knees and shook his head, his eyes dazed.

Ariana regained her feet and blocked Dafydd
with her own body, trying to protect him, her fingers numb as they
clutched her dagger. Tendrils of hair fell into her eyes, damp with
sweat, blinding her. How could she fight this man?

A deafening roar filled her ears. The
mercenary squawked as he was flipped over and landed with a
thud.

Wulfgar!

The mercenary’s mouth dropped open. No
longer did he face a woman and children. Now he faced a full-grown,
battle-hardened warrior. And Wulfgar was every bit as large as the
giant.

“Run,” Wulfgar ordered, pointing toward a
doorway a short distance away.

The mercenary’s gaze centered on Wulfgar as
he came to his feet cautiously, his sword gripped in his fist.
Facing each other, the two men braced themselves for battle. With a
loud cry, the mercenary aimed a lashing blow at Wulfgar’s middle.
Stepping to the side, Wulfgar deflected the blow and the clash of
steel rang in Ariana’s ears.

“Come on.” Pulling Dafydd with her, she ran
toward the castle wall. Markus followed. Fighting raged all around.
He obviously preferred her to the danger of battle.

They ducked inside and Ariana slammed the
wooden door, engulfing them in gloomy shadows. There was no bolt to
lock the door. The musty scent of grain met her nose. In the
shadows, she saw the bodies of two guards lying sprawled across
bags of grain stacked to the side. Mice skittered past her feet and
she gasped.

The fighting had obviously made it to this
room. Perhaps the guards had chased Wulfgar here when he came to
open the sally port.

At the other end of the room, another
smaller door stood wide open. Cold night air struck her face and
moonlight sprayed across the floor, glinting off dust motes
floating in the air.

“The sally port. We’ve found it.”

Running to the door, she braced her hands
against the jam and peered over the edge. The door was situated
halfway up the outer wall of the gatehouse. A ladder had been
lowered on the outside, resting against the wall. No doubt it had
admitted Wulfgar’s men into the keep. High above, clouds scudded
across the sky. Soon, it would be morning.

“The darkness will cover our escape.”

Dafydd smiled as he crouched in front of the
door, still holding her dagger in his hand. He was visibly
trembling.

Markus shook his head and bolted for the
door. It wasn’t safe for him in the bailey.

“Wait,” she shouted.

Too late! He threw open the door…and ran
into a man’s chest.

The dark shape of the man moved forward,
tall and threatening, clearing the way. Markus screamed and
staggered back.

With a high pitched squeal, Dafydd tried to
scurry over to Ariana. The man grabbed Dafydd by the scruff of the
neck and jerked him back, shaking him hard. Dafydd dropped his
dagger and shrieked and clawed, but the man held tight.

“Oh,” Ariana cried, recognizing the man.

Edwin of Carlinham.

How had he found them? Had he seen them come
in here?

Her blood chilled. So close. A few more
moments and she and Dafydd would have slid down the ladder and run
into the forest to hide until Evan could come for them. Just a few
more moments and they would have been free.

Edwin kicked Dafydd’s dagger aside and
closed the door behind him. He brushed back his cloak to reveal a
sword and long, thin knife sheathed at his side. He pulled the
blade free. A nasty smile spread across his hawkish face. Wrapping
his arm around Dafydd’s throat, he twisted the boy’s arm behind his
back and Dafydd grimaced with pain.