THE WARLORD (36 page)

"I am much too excited to sleep just yet. So much has happened this eve!"

"Aye, true enough," he admitted, staring up at the canopy of their bed. "My brother should return to court by tomorrow night to collect his title. Edward kept him at
Windsor, so as not to arouse suspicion. I am curious to see his greeting. 'Tis been several years since I saw Guy last, though I have been kept informed of his activities."

Tess gasped, propping herself up on one elbow. "I forgot all about Guy. This shall be a family reunion, of sorts. Helen must be very excited."

"Helen is probably quaking in her boots," Kenric snorted. He shook his head and his expression grew serious. "She is under the impression that her dowry includes Montague wealth and lands that Guy now has the right to reclaim. Without a dowry, Fitz Alan could break the betrothal."

"He would not do that, would he?"

"Nay, but he is sure to torment Helen with the possibility.
Then again, 'tis within Guy's rights to break the betrothal himself, as I gave my approval after we were wed.
Though my punishment was received this eve, legally it will be viewed as being in effect the moment we were married. It was not my right to name Helen's husband."

"Guy is certain to approve of Fitz Alan," Tess said firmly, though her brows rose in question. "Is he not?"

" 'Tis
no certainty. I have been told Guy harbors me no ill will, but what is said and what is truly felt can be quite different. In any event," he added, kissing the tip of his wife's nose. "I am sure you will make Guy see the wisdom of such a match. Doubtless you have a few plagues yet to use as a means of persuasion, should he dare disagree."

"I am no witch," Tess said indignantly. She fell back against the pillows and crossed her arms over her chest. "What a horrid thing to say."

"I do but tease, sweetling." He leaned over to nuzzle her neck. "You are the best of all women, a veritable saint among mere mortals."

"Now you mock me," she said crossly, though she turned her head to expose more of her neck to his kisses.

"Hmm, I do not think so," he murmured, nipping at her ear. He reached down and grasped the hem of her nightgown, sweeping it over her head in one smooth movement. "If it is mocking I do, then I wish to mock all of you."

Before he could carry out the threat, Tess asked a question that made his hands still, his
body go
rigid. "What will you do to Gordon?"

"He will live. For now," he amended. "Gordon will journey with me to Remmington when I call upon his father. We shall see how dearly the Devil holds his child."

Tess shook her head. "Dunmore MacLeith will not give up Remmington for his son. Your plan will not succeed if you think to lure
Dunmore out with Gordon."

"Nay, 'tis not my plan."
Kenric stretched out beside her and propped himself up on one elbow. He captured her hands and held them together, his lips placing measured kisses along her fingertips. His eyes watched hers intently over their hands. "
Dunmore will see his son suffer as much as you have been made to suffer under their care
. '
Tis part of the punishment for their sins."

"You are indeed ruthless," she whispered.

"You are the one who has suffered, Tess. Do you plead for them, I shall promise to slay the MacLeiths swiftly. But do not ask me to spare their lives. Enemies such as the MacLeiths will be a threat to my family as long as they live."

Tess's brows drew together in a frown. "The MacLeiths have done nothing to warrant my plea now, but they have done everything to warrant the justice you would mete out." She loosened her hands from his grip and reached up to stroke his face. "You are a fair man, husband. You have my love and respect in all things. Nothing you say or do will be loathsome or repulsive in my eyes. In this case, I can think of no punishment that could match their crimes, though I have the feeling you can and will."

Kenric pulled her away from his chest, his eyes intense. "I have passed judgments on many men and slain many more in battles. But I gain no pleasure from the death or punishment of others. It is not sport to me, Tess. But God help me, on this occasion I fear I will find true pleasure in meting out justice."

"How can you accomplish it?" she asked quietly. "The other holdings may fall, but
Remmington
Castle
has food and water inside the walls to last years. How long will your army survive the winter, living off the sparseness of the countryside?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "MacLeith is no longer lord of Remmington. I will do whatever is necessary to claim our son's birthright. 'Tis my hope that Dunmore MacLeith and his spawn will be deep in their graves before my son draws his first breath. I must trust that God will show me the way."

"You are most confident of God's interest in this matter," she said skeptically.

"I am confident in my own abilities and God's justice
. '
Tis a certainty I have God's support, for many barons have already pledged their men and arms to my cause, barons who would have laughed in my face, had I asked their assistance six months ago. I have asked for nothing, yet am now offered an army larger than my own."

He gave her a roguish grin, his serious mood lightening as he cupped her chin in one hand.
" 'Tis
surely God's hand or yours, sweetheart. 'Tis a fact, most men cannot resist the idea of a demoiselle in distress. Given Gordon's attack on you this eve, everyone at court believes you a tragic heroine of epic proportions. That you embrace my name and protection so readily assures them you are, indeed, a desperate woman."

"I am desperate only for your love," Tess answered surely. Her eyes grew softer, more luminous in the flickering candlelight. She leaned back in his arms and stroked his chest seductively. "After making that vile statement that earned you nothing more than a sore foot, perhaps you could make amends by assuring me of your love."

Kenric gave her all the reassurance she needed and more.

Remmington
Castle
was nestled in the deep valley like a cold, priceless jewel, her manors and keeps scattered across vast miles of
England's northern border in an unbroken chain. Kenric drew to a halt at the crest of the last hill and gazed down into the fertile valley, the lush land that was dominated by his future home. He had little appreciation of Remmington's cool, indomitable beauty, his eyes assessing only its potential flaws. Tomorrow he would ride the perimeter of the curtain walls, but setting up his camp would occupy the remainder of this day and evening. From his vantage point, Kenric could only see four of the great towers and the tips of the other four behind them. Two of the six smaller towers that flanked the barbican were also visible, as were the twin gatehouse towers.

A thin ribbon of smoke rose from the south end of the
walls,
surely the ramp to the postern gate being burned away, for MacLeith could not help but know of his arrival. From this height, Kenric could see small dots he knew to be soldiers lining the battlements of the fortress, but they would disappear from sight and bow range when his army entered the valley. Kenric smiled, picturing his wife on one of the tower walls, a long, colorful scarf fluttering in the wind to welcome her husband home. But Tess was at Kelso Abby, in Father Olwen's safekeeping until Kenric regained control of Remmington. She'd foolishly assumed he would allow her to accompany him to Remmington, had argued mightily when she realized he intended to leave her at the abbey. Even her tearful pleas could not sway his decision. Aside from the fact that her condition was hardly suited to a battle camp, he would not allow his wife within sight of a MacLeith ever again. He'd left Helen at Kelso as well, hoping she would be of some comfort to Tess during the weeks they would be separated. Although he didn't yet know how he was going to keep his word, he'd made Tess a solemn vow that their babe would be born at Remmington. He lifted his hand and motioned his army forward into the valley.

Kenric's battle camp spread across much of the countryside, eclipsing the village outside the castle. His first surprise came early the following day when the residents of the village returned from their hiding places in the surrounding forest. Their blacksmith, the official leader, explained the reason for this strange behavior to a succession of Kenric's soldiers until he was finally allowed to speak to the warlord himself. Normally the villeins of a besieged castle stayed as far out of the way as possible, knowing the knights on both sides of the castle walls valued the lives of peasants far less than their warhorses or swords. Yet the villagers at Remmington were more than willing to share their meager stores and lend aid in any way possible to Kenric's army. They had known only misery and starvation under MacLeith. The villagers also held to the slim hope that their homes would not be razed by this army if they offered their support. It didn't matter to the villagers who Kenric was or his
reasons for laying siege, yet the smith was
moved to tears when he learned the fierce warrior was the husband of Lady Tess. She was remembered with great affection by the villagers, for many owed their lives to cures or care provided by her or her mother. Kenric thanked the smith for his offer and promised to spare the peasants' homes, knowing he would have burned the village to the ground had he laid siege to this castle before his marriage.

A tall post was driven into place at noon of that day, well within sight of the soldiers on the battlement walls. Gordon MacLeith was brought forward, his good arm tied behind his back, a long tether tied round his neck. Kenric picked up the end of the tether and mounted his warhorse, ignoring Gordon's screamed insults as he kicked the horse forward, keeping the pace just fast enough to make Gordon scramble to keep up. Kenric slowed the pace as he rode the perimeter of the wall, just out of bow range, though he heard the insults and jeers called down from the walls. As he neared the camp again at the end of his journey, Kenric knew the deep bellow of fury came from his captive's father. He released the tether when Gordon stood in front of the post then ordered his captive tied there. There was only silence now, from his camp and from the walls. Gordon was too winded to say anything. Kenric's voice rang out clearly, his words raising the hair on many a man's head.

"You have until nightfall to claim your son's life, Dunmore MacLeith. Open the gates and I will promise your men safe passage to
Scotland. If the gates remain closed at nightfall, your son hangs. Until your surrender or his death, he receives a score of lashes each hour."

Kenric kicked his horse away from the post, closer to the gates of the fortress. He gazed up at the wall where he knew Dunmore MacLeith stood, knowing MacLeith would think Kenric was looking directly at him.

"You know of me, MacLeith. You know I carry the title of Butcher for good reason. Do these gates remain closed at daybreak, I will raze these walls until no two stones stand atop each other and destroy whatever I find within. The fact that
Remmington
Castle
is my property will not make my sword fall any lighter. The gold weighs heavy in my chests from many campaigns and I can well afford to build another. If you remain behind those walls at daybreak, gaze well at the hills beyond you, MacLeith, for you will never walk them again."

Kenric's warhorse backed away from the gates in measured steps. He finally turned the animal and slowly circled the post where Gordon was tied. Gordon remained silent, knowing there was no possibility of mercy in the warlord's eyes.

The night fell so quietly that crickets could be heard in the surrounding fields and the occasional hoot of an owl in the nearby forest. But the peaceful sounds of the night were shattered by Gordon's pleas and shrieks of fear as he was dragged to a tall, graceful oak tree. Silence fell abruptly and one by one, the crickets began to chirp again.

Later that night, Kenric lay on his cot with a drained flask of wine at his side. He felt no remorse for his actions that day. Such was the responsibility of his rank. If anything, he'd given Gordon an easy death, a much more merciful death than the man deserved. He'd just ended the life of a man who inflicted more pain than could possibly be received in one day as retribution. What mattered most was the fact that his wife was safe forever from Gordon. Only the father remained.

Tess rolled to her side and punched the straw pillow again, longing for the comfort of her own bed.
Kenric's bed.
How could she have forgotten so quickly what it was like to live with only the meanest comforts? She looked across the small monk's cell to see Helen sleeping soundly on her own straw pallet, surprised that the tiny window allowed enough moonlight to see anything.

"Close your eyes, Tess."

Tess sat up on her pallet and searched the shadowy corners of the room. The thought was
her own,
but the words seemed to be spoken aloud in a deep male voice. Nerves, Tess decided, lying back down. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what her husband would be doing at that moment. It was late and he would doubtless be asleep in his tent. She pictured him lying on his cot, one arm resting across his forehead, the other on his chest. Tess sighed and drifted into sleep.

In her dream she joined Kenric on the cot, smiling when he opened his arms in his sleep to wrap her safely within them. She lay there contentedly for a time until the flap of Kenric's tent opened and a man stepped through. She didn't feel fear or surprise when she recognized her father, but a strong sense of contentment tinged by sadness. The lines of his face, blurred by memory, came into sharp focus with the flood of a thousand memories. She'd forgotten what a big man her father was. He smiled down at her, then his gaze traveled to the sleeping form of her husband and he nodded his approval. Tess returned the smile and rose from the cot, taking the hand he extended to her. They walked through the flap of the tent to the camp outside, making their way around several dying campfires until they stood beneath the walls of Remmington. Her father gazed up at the walls for a long time and Tess could sense an overwhelming sadness that he should be standing outside his own walls, the enemy safely within.

"Look closely, my child." Tess didn't see his lips move but heard his voice just the same. Her father pointed up at a long, narrow drainage pipe that descended from one tower, the tower housing the kitchens. "My castle has but one flaw."

As Tess watched, shadowy figures of soldiers emerged from the night, creeping stealthily toward the drainpipe. They were not soldiers at
all,
merely the dark shadows men would cast against the wall. The black outline of a phantom ladder was leaned against the wall and the men began to climb, a slight man first, to test the pipe's strength. One by one they climbed until more than a score of soldiers were inside the walls.

"You know the layout of the castle," her father said, looking over his shoulder, but not at Tess.
" 'Tis
your skill from there that will carry you to victory or defeat."

Tess glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Kenric standing there. He nodded solemnly at her father's words.

"Return to your dreams, daughter."
Tess's father laid a gentle hand across her eyes.

Tess felt rested and completely at peace, as if something important had been accomplished. The memory of a misty dream floated across her senses and she struggled awake, thinking she would better remember the dream without sleep dulling her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Helen's empty pallet. She searched the dark room until she spied her sister-in-law, her back flattened against the wall in one corner of their room, her eyes wide with fright.

"You saw him, too?" Tess
whispered,
the memory of the dream rushing forward to greet her. Helen jerked her head forward to nod.

"Milord?"

Kenric tore his gaze from the drainpipe, surprised that Tess and her father no longer stood before him. His eyes were glazed, not quite focused when he turned to stare at Fitz Alan.

"Kenric, are you awake?" Fitz Alan
asked,
his voice a low whisper so the MacLeith soldiers on the wall above them wouldn't hear. They were easy targets and within close range of the enemy's archers. He'd noticed Kenric leaving his tent and followed him here to the foot of the south tower. Something in Kenric's manner made Fitz Alan hesitate to call out to him or even place a restraining hand on his arm until now. It was as if the baron moved in a daze, walking as a man does in his sleep, with his eyes wide open but unseeing. Though the night was warm, the blank look in Kenric's eyes sent a shiver down Fitz Alan's spine. "We must be away from here, milord. The moon is too bright to stand this close to the enemy."

Fitz Alan waited a moment then took Kenric by the arm when the man made no move on his own. He led Kenric as quietly as possible back to his tent, relieved when they passed none of their soldiers who would question their lord's strange manner. Kenric seemed to rouse from his strange state the moment they entered his tent.

"I have found the flaw, Fitz Alan," Kenric said quietly. He lit the tall candle near his cot then opened a small trunk. The layout of
Remmington
Castle
that he'd drawn with his wife's assistance was unrolled and Kenric motioned to Fitz Alan to sit next to him so they could study the map.

Fitz Alan listened in amazement as Kenric laid out his plan for taking the castle.
The next night, while the castle slept, twenty men would scale the drainpipe that led to a window above the kitchens.
There they would subdue the servants within, or lock them in one of the storage bins if they seemed unlikely to raise a warning. From there the men would make their way to the walks of the curtain wall. With luck, the few guards standing watch there could be silenced quietly and they would reach the gatehouse with little or no fighting.

The plan went better than Kenric expected. Not only did he and his men reach the gatehouse without a warning being sounded, they found most of the guards within the strategic point sound asleep. The chains holding the drawbridge in place were easily struck and the portcullises raised, allowing Kenric's army to pour into the castle before the enemy was fully awake. His soldiers moved quickly to the donjon, taking the great tower before the MacLeiths could move to that last haven of safety.

The sounds of battle rang within the walls of Remmington for no more than three hours. It was almost too easy. Those who did not die in battle were herded into the dungeons. Kenric released the poor souls he found incarcerated there and ordered them from the fortress, certain their crimes could not be
so
great as their captors'. Then it was time to search for Dunmore MacLeith. Though each prisoner was questioned, none knew or would tell where the lord could be found. Kenric began to worry that MacLeith had found a way out of the castle through some secret passage.

To his great pleasure, it was Kenric who finally flushed his enemy from cover. He was searching the highest floor of the north tower when a garderobe door sprang open, its occupant bursting from the interior with a flash of deadly blades. Kenric recognized his foe immediately from his wife's descriptions and his smile was cold and unforgiving as he drew his own sword.

"Ye'd best say your prayers," the old man warned, finding his own smile when Kenric ordered his men to back away. MacLeith crouched down to assume his battle stance, circling in slow, measured steps around his enemy. "I'll no turn o'er this fortress to the likes o' you, Montague
. '
Tis said Death guides your sword, but the Devil guides mine."