Candle in the Window: Castles #1

by Christina Dodd

  “You don’t really believe me even now. You don’t want to believe that one of your nestlings has grown into a vulture.”

  “After Arthur kidnapped William and Saura—”

  “What?” Raymond roared. “Was that ridiculous story the truth?”

  “Assuredly it was the truth.” Lord Peter stared at Raymond. “I thought William would have told you.”

  “When?”

  “At the wedding.”

  Raymond threw his head back and laughed harshly. “At the wedding, William had only one thing on his mind. But I heard rumors.”

  “Arthur admitted that he and another lord worked together to kill William. I should have spoken to you.”

  “You were not consulting one another,” the lord told them. “So too many battles go astray.”

  Fretting, Lord Peter said, “I should have stayed at Burke. What if a message comes about Saura while I’m gone? Maud’s likely to lead the garrison into battle herself.”

  He glanced at the lord, who grinned and said, “My wife’s like that. Too sure of herself and ready to let me know it.”

  “Women.” Lord Peter sighed. “Maud almost took my ears off for being gone when Saura was kidnapped. Maud went looking for Saura, all by herself, when she suspected treachery.”

  “Was she hurt?” Raymond asked.

  “Nay, only her voice ached from shrieking. She found the footprints of men and horses. She found a strange churl, mauled to death. Odder than that, she found our dog, Bula. You know the dog is nothing but a coward, yet the man lay dead beside that animal. Bula was tied with a stout rope and frantically chewing his way through it.” Lord Peter shook his head. “How did that dog get tied?”

  “He knew whoever tied him,” the lord answered logically.

  “Aye, so we surmised. When Maud released the dog, he took off into the woods and we haven’t seen him since.”

  “I suspect you’ll see Bula again,” the lord comforted.

  “Yes, on the day I see Saura again,” Lord Peter agreed. “Someone has taken her, but why?”

  “Nicholas did it,” Raymond insisted. “This whole plot is one big sticky web Nicholas has woven. I told him to let me know when the time came to divide up the lands and I’d be there.”

  Lord Peter snorted. “I can imagine what he said to that.”

  “He said I’d have to help him to earn the lands. He had the idea I would do anything to have some income of my own and not be dependent on my sire.” Raymond’s mouth twisted into a bitter line.

  Neither Lord Peter nor the great lord said a word. They looked straight ahead as they rode and offered neither sympathy nor understanding. What could they say? The way Raymond’s parents treated him was shameful, yet it was Raymond’s problem and he’d not welcome interference.

  “I failed to pay attention as I should. Forgive me,” Raymond apologized. “The events in London are so tremendous,” he glanced at the lord, “that I let William slip from my mind. In sooth, I’ve always believed William could care for himself.”

  Lord Peter laughed. “Aye, he does strike you like that, does he not?”

  “So it was until the last new moon, when the most extraordinary person arrived at my home in London. A big, beautiful man who insisted he’d run all the way from Cran Castle with a message from Nicholas. I was gone from London, trailing along after Prince Henry. The man never sleeps, Lord Peter, and he delights in unplanned trips.”

  “So I see,” Lord Peter answered wryly.

  The lord laughed, and Raymond shrugged at Lord Peter, indicating his own lack of responsibility for their bizarre situation. “My servitors didn’t pay the runner a lot of notice. Just let him eat and sleep and brought him in front of me when I arrived. This fellow was none too bright, and when he repeated the message, it didn’t make a lot of sense. Something about Nicholas wedding a woman to equal William’s wife.”

  “What!” Lord Peter roared.

  “It didn’t make sense to me then,” Raymond said, “but it scared me and made me decide ’twas time to let you know what I suspected, and what I knew. It makes sense to me now.”

  The lord turned to Lord Peter. “I couldn’t resist coming along. I need to see the countryside, talk to the barons. I assure you, I’ve developed a second sense about treachery and deceit. You’re doing the right thing.”

  Waving his hand, Lord Peter urged them to a gallop. The whole company rode hard, overtaking all other traffic on the road and passing through hamlets where the villagers cowered at their passing. Lord Peter paid little attention when they saw a small band of soldiers, battered and grim, riding toward them, but a shout from the group made him pull up. “Channing,” he said, recognizing the man whose leg lay crooked across the saddle. “Damn, man, what happened?”

  “Attacked, my lord, as we rode t’ warn that ye must ride t’ Cran Castle at once.”

  “How were you so distressed?” Lord Peter asked, displeased with the chief man-at-arms and showing it.

  “’Twas a large group of knights, m’lord, well-trained mercenaries. Charles was in no shape t’ command us an’ his men nothin’ but cowards.”

  “Charles? You were with Charles?”

  “I couldn’t stop t’ check him, m’lord. I saw him go down under a sword, but whether he lives I cannot tell.”

  “Are any of you uninjured?” Lord Peter swept his eyes over the group.

  Channing nodded. “A few.”

  “Send them back to find Charles and discover if he lives. You, Channing, go on to Burke.”

  “I must return wi’ you t’ my Lord William,” Channing said desperately. “He ordered us t’ go without him. I argued, m’lord, but Lord William—”

  “Never listens to reason. Where is William?”

  “He went t’ Cran Castle alone, m’lord, t’ rescue Lady Saura.”

  Lord Peter’s mouth formed a perfect O of horror.

  “He thought he’d sent th’ message soon enough that ye’d be there already t’ help him, but th’ warriors were from Cran Castle, there was no mistaking their shouts.”

  “Go home, Channing,” Lord Peter ordered. “You’ve done all you could.”

  “Where did you get these bruises?” William asked as he dipped her handkerchief into the bucket of water and washed her face.

  His understated fury made her wish they’d never discovered the well at the abandoned farm in the shadow of the knoll. The folk who lived there, he told her, had obviously left in a hurry, seeking the castle for protection. “Rumors of war must be flying,” he had said.

  Now chickens pecked around their feet as they sat on a bench in the yard, and she soothed his anger with a laugh. “My bruises are nothing. You didn’t think I’d go along with Nicholas without a fight, did you?”

  “He looked uninjured to me,” he snapped.

  “His bruises don’t show,” she snapped back.

  He relaxed a bit. “Did you find a stone to use on his head?”

  “If I had,” she replied with assurance, “you wouldn’t be seeking him now.”

  “That’s my girl.” He slapped her on the shoulder and she winced. He froze and then carefully peeled back her cotte. “Ah, Saura,” he breathed, his gaze on the black marks against her pale skin. “What did the blackguard do to you?”

  “’Tis nothing, William.” She smoothed his face with her palm.

  “I’ll make him pay for every bruise,” William promised, dipping his rag once more and wringing it out.

  “You’re too sloppy, William.” She caught at his hand before he could wash her further.

  “And you’re too dusty,” he countered, evading her.

  “You’re slopping it down my cotte,” she complained, but a note of shrill dismay alerted him.

  “Is there something you don’t wish me to see?”

  She didn’t answer, trying to appear relaxed. She hoped fervently he wouldn’t wash her neck, but she’d piqued his curiosity. The rag dripped water onto her clothes as he wiped her neck clean of it
s blanket of white chalk.

  “Saura. Holy Blessed Virgin.” He surveyed her clean neck as it emerged and swore. A necklace of fingerprints circled her delicate skin and the two dark marks close to her windpipe told him how close he’d come to losing her. “Is this his favorite method of extermination?”

  “Nay, he also favors poison.” She raised haunted eyes to his face. “Hawisa was a bitch, but I pity her her death.”

  “Is it sore?” he asked with murderous intensity.

  “I feel a little raspy when I talk,” she admitted.

  “What stopped him?”

  That made her smile. “Bronnie. If not for Bronnie, I’d be dead right now.”

  “You mean I owe a debt to that simpleton?”

  His blatant dismay brought a chuckle to her lips. “Aye.”

  “Very well.” William straightened like a man doing an unpleasant duty. “I’ll care for him as if he were kin.”

  “He’s really a very nice creature,” she said. “Like Bula. Endlessly loyal.”

  “Unlike Bula, he’s not intelligent.” He added, “Nor is he endlessly brave.”

  “That’s my Bronnie,” she agreed, affection and mirth quirking her lips.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  She jumped at his sudden fierce vow. “Bronnie?”

  “Nicholas. I’ll kill him as I would a mad wolf.”

  “Wait for your father to arrive,” she urged. “No one would fault you for that.”

  “I thought you trusted me?”

  “So I do.” A tear glistened on her lashes, and she leaned her forehead against his chest to hide it. “I trust you to care for me. I doubt you have any such care for yourself.”

  “Dearling, listen to me.” His finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his. “I’ll have the element of surprise. With any luck, Nicholas hasn’t realized we’ve escaped, and even if he has, he’ll not expect to see me inside the battlements. Not now. I’m afraid to wait too long, don’t you see? Once inside, I can open the gates to my father.”

  “Open the gates, when his mercenaries command the castle?” she scorned.

  “I can do it. I’m not just a great mass of muscle, you know. I’m crafty and I never forget the first rule of combat. If I don’t get that gate open, there’ll be a prolonged siege and that madman will have the chance to worm his way out. Nay, I want him gone. I want the way cleared for us to have a life together without fear.”

  She closed her eyes in defeat. “You have a strange way of freeing me of fear, haring off to do single combat with a castle full of warriors.”

  “I can manage.” He grinned.

  Her eyes popped open. “Your modesty doesn’t bear examination.”

  “I speak only the truth,” he intoned solemnly.

  Pushing against his solid shoulder, she chuckled with watery amusement.

  “That’s better,” he coaxed. “Keep your confidence. We only have a little way to go and you’ll be settled and I’ll be on my way. I’m going to carry this bucket up for you and leave you the bread and cheese.”

  “You don’t think you’ll be back tonight,” she said flatly.

  “I don’t know.” He lifted her with one hand under her elbow. “We must be prepared for anything.”

  “I’ll tell you, William.” She tucked her skirts into her belt in anticipation of the climb to her perch. “My body is prepared for anything, but I don’t know how much more bruising my heart can stand.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  William trotted down the path on the knoll, looking back only once to check that his dearling was placed out of sight. She hadn’t grumbled anymore about his plans to capture Cran Castle on his own; she’d been heart-wrenchingly brave. It made him wonder how tightly she’d have him wound around her finger when he’d finished disposing of this little problem. One tear from her eye and he almost tossed his plans into the dung heap.

  Nevertheless, he had a battle to finish. He had to do it in these last hours of sunlight or he feared Nicholas would slip from his fingertips. He didn’t ever, ever want to have to watch his own back again.

  His long strides brought him close to the gatehouse in good time, and he halted and listened. He strained to hear the sound of many horses’ hooves, but instead he heard only the whine of the wind off the ocean and the distant barking of a dog. In spite of his assurances to Saura, he’d hoped to have his troops at his back. Ah, well, he’d soon hold a sword again.

  Coming to the edge of the motte, he hailed the castle and got a very surprised call back. “Who did ye say it was?” the man-at-arms hollered.

  “William of Miraval,” he shouted back. “I fell out of the dungeon, and I’ve returned myself to Lord Nicholas’s kind care.”

  A confused discussion took place on the battlements, and then another man, the mercenary who commanded the garrison, and had tossed him into the prison, shoved the soldier aside. “We’re checking the dungeon now,” he called. “We’ll let you back in, if you’ve really escaped.”

  William spread his hands wide. “Let me in now,” he urged. “I have no weapon. I’m only one man. Surely you don’t fear me.”

  For answer, the knight gazed beyond William at the plain that stretched empty clear to the forest’s edge, and nodded. “What harm?”

  The drawbridge creaked and William laughed inside at the care with which the rusty chains lowered it. Nervous, were they? Good. Nervous men made mistakes.

  He strode across the drawbridge and stood waiting at the portcullis as the mercenary examined him through the iron slats. “I don’t believe it,” the knight muttered. “How did you escape that dungeon?” He nodded to the guards and the portcullis rose with awkward jerks. “And what in the name of good Saint Wilfred made you come back?”

  William waited, smiling, until the last barrier had been pulled from between them, and then he leaped at the man’s throat. Catching him by the neck, he snarled, “I came back to kill Nicholas with your sword.”

  Taken by surprise, the knight staggered back and then recovered, knocking William’s hands aside. But he wore armor and William did not, and when William kicked his feet out from under him he went down with a crash. William had him!

  He dove for the sword. The earth-bound knight fought to keep it in its scabbard. They rolled in the dirt, and William smirked. The mercenary was smaller, laden with armor, as easy to defeat as a turtle on its back.

  Jerking the blade free, William leaped up and glanced around. The guards had recovered from their paralysis, and he thrust out with the point of his ill-gotten weapon. The shouting at the gate brought men and more men to the fight; they came at him in a tide. He slashed, using the sword to advantage and fighting for a shield. He saw one he liked: large, sturdy, wielded by an opponent who seemed intent on remaining a spectator. In a surge, he drove toward the unwilling warrior and cracked his skull with the flat of the sword. He wrenched the shield from the slack grip and turned.

  “Burke!” he bellowed in his open-mouthed war cry, and the soldiers fell back for a moment. He managed to get his back to the wall beside the still-open gate. The outer bailey rang with shouts and the deep, angry barking of a dog, and William was deafened.

  He didn’t like the way these men fought. They fought as if they’d die if they let him escape. They fought as if Nicholas would kill them in slow, painful ways if he outwitted them.

  Suddenly, like driftwood caught by a wave, the guards seemed to ebb away. They disappeared under the gigantic, hairy beast who attacked them with slavering jaws. “Wolf!” they screamed, fleeing or falling as their courage allowed.

  “Just what I need,” William muttered. Distracted, he braced himself for an onslaught, but the great beast raised its head from the leading knight’s chest. “Bula!” William lowered his sword. “Bula, you magnificent animal, I thought you were dead.” He had no time to say more, but he glanced out across the plain at the distant cloud of dust and smiled. “Can my father be far behind?”

  Saura waited in dignified agony. As
soon as she was sure William could no longer see her, she’d climbed out of the protected hole where he’d placed her and lifted herself to the top of the highest rock she could find. She didn’t care who observed her in this deserted countryside; she wanted to hear the battle. And she could hear it very well. The flat plain, the lack of obstructions, made sounds carry far and clear.

  So she listened. Straining her ears, she heard shouting. She heard the drawbridge lowered, she heard William’s bellow, and she heard the sweetest sound in the world. ’Twas Bula’s bark.

  It couldn’t be. She’d heard his fury and the blow that silenced it.

  The barking boomed out again and she started with the pain it brought her. Could she mistake his bark for another’s?

  No, this was no mistake. That was Bula’s bark.

  For the first time, something stronger than hope stirred in her. Bula was alive? He was alive. Nicholas hadn’t murdered him, and with Bula on his side, William had a fighting chance. The dog was large and loyal, and an almost human intelligence moved the animal to perform.

  If Bula had found them, could Lord Peter and his army?

  They could. At least, she thought they could. She heard the distant drumbeat of horses, and she leaned forward. Was it the soldiers from Burke? As they rode across the plain, the clank and rattle of armor and the shouting of many men obscured any individual voices. It wasn’t until they halted and called a challenge that one voice predominated, but it wasn’t Lord Peter. Nor Charles, nor any person she’d ever heard before. Clenching her fist, she strained to to hear, wondering if William was in greater danger now. What could she think? What did she want to think? Any army coming to Cran Castle now must be hostile; ergo, they were an ally of hers.

  But in these unsettled times, perhaps the army came to conquer, and innocent William, caught in the middle, would count for nothing. He’d better have a care for himself now.

  One by one, the men attacking William dropped their swords and stared out their open drawbridge. “A great force,” one man-at-arms muttered, his voice carrying in the sudden silence. The dust raised by the horses speeding across the plains awed them. “No foot soldiers,” another said. “A greater force of knights than I have ever seen.”