Ashby's lord raced down the stairs, bared sword in hand. He wore his mail shirt hastily pulled atop his clothing. "Raper of women, killer of children! Die, like the dog you are."
Excited by the sudden fray and the smell of blood from her mount, Rannulf's bay struck out, crashing his gigantic hoof into the smaller horse's flank. Rowena leapt free as her crippled mare fell. She rolled away from the flailing hooves and scrambled to her feet to watch in horror.
"You used her," John raged, his blade rebounding off Rannulf's shield.
"You are mad," his lord shouted back. Men leapt away from him and his dangerous mount, two already cut and bleeding. "I never touched her."
Hands dragged Rowena back from the fighting. She had not the sense to resist her captor or even to turn to look at who it was. Incapable of sound or motion, she stood frozen in terror.
"Liar," Ashby roared, once again throwing himself at his lord. He managed to land a blow against the mounted man's thigh. Blood stained Rannulf's steel chausses. "Drag them down," he called to his men. "I will show you how I treat filth such as you."
One of their men screamed as he took a bolt in the neck. The attackers surrounded the smaller mounts of Graistan's soldiery. Rowena watched as Ashby's men dragged two more from their horses; she watched their few fall beneath flashing blades. She could not breathe. If they unhorsed Rannulf, he would die.
Again, his bay rose, striking out at those who surrounded him. It trampled one while Rannulf used his sword just as effectively. A man lost an arm, another his head. John threw himself forward, intent on pulling his lord down. Rannulf beat him back.
"Stop, Papa," Nicola screamed from behind Rowena. Her female voice could not thread its way between the cursing, shouting men. The clash of swords and cries of the wounded muffled any chance of that.
Taken in surprise, most of their men now lay dead or wounded. Their blood mingled with those few of Ashby's forces who'd fallen with them. Another volley of bolts flew. Sir John's men had the last of them from their horses. Now, only Lord Graistan on his massive steed remained.
"He is mine," John bellowed, and rushed forward, intent on killing the horse if he could not reach the man. Time slowed. The bay thrust forward in attack. Ashby's sword drove deep into its neck. As the beast jerked away from the pain, the heavy man was pulled upward, vulnerable for that instant. Rannulf leaned forward and swung his sword down in a great arc. He caught his vassal at the midsection with the full length of the blade's honed edge. The powerful blow lifted the man, snapping ribs and cutting through his mail.
Still screaming in pain, the horse rose again. Its movement freed Ashby from its master's blade. The wounded man dropped to the ground. But the archers above had seen their opportunity. Rannulf arched in pain when the bolts impacted with his shoulder, even though they could not penetrate his closely woven metal shirt. Unbalanced by the blows, he reeled in his saddle as his horse leapt forward, still striking out as its life ebbed. Then he fell to the bloody earth as the bay dropped to its knees beside him.
The sudden silence was awesome.
"Papa," Nicola screamed again, her hysterical cry now echoing eerily off the walls around them. She tore around Rowena to race to her father's side.
Rowena did not waste her breath in words as she sped across the space to Rannulf. He lay on his side, blood washing his face from where his head had hit the ground. With a trembling hand, she touched his throat and felt his heartbeat against her fingers. She turned him slightly to touch her mouth to his and felt his breath against her skin. He lived. Never had she known a greater relief.
"There are four more coming." Lady Ashby's voice carried from the hall porch to ring about the bailey. Rowena watched the fair woman in her pale and pretty gowns descend the hall stairs and come to stand over her new husband. "Fool," she continued in a low voice. "It was punishment, not murder, I sought. Now you've left me no choice but to finish what you started." She was completely unaffected by the carnage around her.
Rowena turned back to Rannulf. If her husband was to continue living, she'd have to keep this bitch from his throat. Since his method of warfare had failed, she would try it her way, for she was armed with weapons against which the woman had no defense. She leapt to her feet and pushed her way through the crowd of men who surrounded the fallen Lord Ashby.
Nicola was murmuring in a low and soothing tone to her father as she pulled up the tails of his mail shirt. "There, do not fret," she said as he groaned in pain when she moved him. "Hush, Papa, it is not as bad as it feels," she lied. "It is lucky you are so fat, or you'd have been sliced in twain. He's broken your ribs here, and this gash is deep, but you will heal."
But John had eyes only for his wife. "I know you bid me to stay my hand, but I could not bear to look upon him knowing what he'd done to you." His voice was a thready whisper.
Rowena's words startled them all. "And what had he done to her, Lord John? Tell me, for I dearly wish to know."
"One of you take her away and finish her," Lady Maeve snapped out.
"Nay," John countermanded, shaking his head at the men who laid hands on her. "I have saved you, too. You do not know what he has done, for he's hidden his true nature from us all," he said to his lady. "He raped and used my wife, and when she bore him children, he murdered them. He took"— he paused a long moment to catch his breath, then started again on a different tack—"he beat her and abused her."
"Would you like to hear a different version of this tale she's spun for you?" Rowena focused her entire attention on the only man who could now save her husband's life. "I would tell you of the men she's used, how she robbed our treasury—"
"Foul lies! And I thought only to protect you," Maeve cried in sweet outrage to her lady. "Why do you listen to her, love? I see now how she will betray me when I have only thought of her as my sister. Make her stop."
"Nay, I would hear what she has to say." John closed his eyes and swallowed, then slowly refocused his attention on Rowena.
"But, not now," his wife went on, her voice soothing and warm as she knelt down, staining her gown and hands with her husband's blood. "You are so hurt, I fear for your life. We will take you inside, and you can listen to her later." She pressed her lips to his forehead.
John ignored her. Instead, he asked of Rowena,
"He does not abuse you?"
"Nay," she said, and also knelt beside him. "But, you should not have to ask me that. You know him. Your wife has used you; she has twisted your affection for her to make you her weapon of revenge against Rannulf for some slight he did her. Can you not see how her tales have inflamed in you this unnatural hatred for your lord? See? She has no response to me."
"My lord," Maeve protested, but Rowena spoke on, her commanding voice overriding the other woman's words, finally forcing her into silence.
"Know I say the truth when I tell you he did not rape her. It was he who locked his doors to keep her from crawling into his bed. She bore him no babe. But even if she had, you must only think on Jordan to see the truth here. Would a man who so loves a serving wench's get, kill any other babe of his?"
Now she took his hand. "He loves you, John. He came today to see that all was well with you. When you left so suddenly from Graistan, he feared he had slighted you in some way." If they lived, she would confess and do her penance for the lies she told. "How could you let this woman pollute your vows to him? You have betrayed him without even giving him the chance to speak in his own defense."
John stared up at her, his brown eyes glazed in pain. Now that his rage was spent, she saw him mentally recoil in the horror of what he'd done. Slowly, his understanding grew. Maeve saw it as well.
The fair woman cried out in very real concern. "She lies; she would do anything to save him, for without him she will lose Graistan."
"John," Rowena went on in her final thrust at Maeve, "he trusted you, just as his father before him trusted you. Aye, you have betrayed him, but he lives still. It is not too late. Spare us, and I vow
on my soul that your daughter will not be stained by what has happened here today."
"Nay," the woman cried, as she watched her husband slip from her control.
"Nicola," he breathed, his gaze moving slowly to the girl who bound his bleeding back and side with strips torn from his gown.
His daughter lay a hand against her father's leathery cheek. "You were wrong to attack him, Papa, without hearing what he would say to Maeve's charges. Even she tried to stop you. Sometimes, that temper of yours"—her voice trembled—"oh, but Papa, if you must die, I will die with you. You need do nothing to save me," she said, her healing hands once again busy at their task.
He returned his attention to Rowena. "There is a thread from St. George's cloak within my hilt. Swear it to me, now."
She laid her hand on his bloodied sword. "I swear it will be so."
"Richard," he called, then coughed at the effort it cost him. When his man leaned down to hear him, he continued. "At all cost Lord and Lady Graistan are to be preserved. They must not die. Swear to me that you will see this done."
"I vow it, my lord," the man said.
"Fool!" Maeve screeched, leaping to her feet. "You stupid fool. Four more of them come. If you had killed them all, there would have been none to bear witness to what has happened here today." But, it was too late. John had slipped into unconsciousness. "Fool," she said again, her face twisted in rage.
"Damn you, you will not destroy me." She whirled on Richard.
"Do as I say or the might of Graistan will come crashing down on this place. Kill those four who come; kill all who remain alive of this party. When they are all dead, we will bury them in the forest and claim they never arrived."
Richard gave her a scornful stare. "How many witnesses must we also kill to still their mouths? Nay, you cannot hide what happened here today."
"Do as I say! I am your lady," she screamed.
"I do not serve you," he retorted. "My oath is with my lord, and what he commands will be done."
"Nay," she screeched, pressing still fingers against her temples. "Nay, I will not die for this man's stupidity." Then she caught herself. Rowena watched as her expression calmed and her body curved into her most feminine posture. "Aye, Richard, you are right, you cannot break your word. But think of this. If those men out there were dead, no one would carry back word of what has happened here. It may buy us only three days, but that could be time enough for your lord to regain his wits. When he is stronger, he will be able to resolve this matter with no further bloodshed. But..." She leaned forward just a little. Richard stood stonily beneath her assault. "But if they warn Graistan, Gilliam will be here tomorrow, and we will all die, your lord as well as you, when you could have saved us all."
He studied his new lady for a long moment. "All that I do from now on, I do to serve my lord the best I can. Just now your words make sense, so I am listening. But you take warning. I can only die once and, if I must, it will not be for your ends."
"I do not care if you do it for the devil himself, as long as you do it," she purred sweetly. "Only make sure you see all four dead, even if you have to chase them all the way to Graistan's gate."
Walter's anxious voice floated over the wall to them. "My lord, what goes forward in there? Call to us so we know all is well with you. Why are we being kept out?"
Rowena threw back her head and screamed at the top of her lungs. "Run to Gilliam, Walter, to Gilliam." But she knew even as she voiced the words, he had not heard her. There was a sudden pain that melted away into darkness.
Chapter 21
Rowena groaned; her head throbbed. She squinted her eyes against the pain, but that only made it worse. Beneath her face was a hard and dusty wooden floor. With another, muffled groan, she pushed up just far enough to look around her. "Rannulf?" It was so dim, she could barely see.
"Rannulf?" she cried again in the start of panic. There, there he was, across this small room, stretched full-length and facedown on the floor. She rose to her knees, but her vision swam so viciously, she nearly fell again. It was another long moment before she attempted to rise any farther. This time, her senses held true.
"Oh, my sweet love," she sighed as she came to kneel beside him. Her fingers sought for, then found, his pulse. She closed her eyes in a brief prayer of thanksgiving, then touched the torn skin on his brow. Her husband jerked in reaction.
"Quietly, my heart," she said, gently stroking his hair as she looked around her. They were confined in an empty chamber with a wooden door and four walls of stone. This could be no other place than the upper room of the stone tower.
He shifted slightly, then murmured, "Wren, you are still alive." There was great relief in his voice. "Are you hurt?"
"Nay." Her hand raised in reaction to his question, and she briefly touched the bruised spot on her head where she'd been hit. It hardly seemed worth mentioning against the gravity of their present situation.
"Where are we?"
"It is a stone room. I think it is the tower."
"Are we locked in?"
"I do not know," she said in surprise. It had not occurred to her to try the door. Even if it had been open, she would not have left him. She rose and crossed the room in a few short steps. The door had no handle; only the insertion of a key would free the latch. "Aye, we are locked in."
"Damn," he groaned quietly, and rolled cautiously to his side. She returned to sit beside him and pillow his head against her thigh. "I remember nothing after striking John. You must tell me everything that has happened since then."
Rowena sighed before starting. "John had believed Maeve's tales of rape and abuse. That poor, simple man was no match for her cunning words and sweet lies. It was only when I made him think about it that he saw how he'd been used in her revenge against you. Once he understood, he made his master-at-arms swear to preserve our lives."
"And that is why I lie, mailed but swordless, my wounds untreated, in a locked storeroom with no pallet between me and the bare floor?" He managed sarcasm despite his pain.
"I do not know why we are here," she cried out in frustration. "Truly, he made his man swear that we would be held safe. Rannulf, we should have sent word. Our unexpected arrival caused John to impulsively strike out at the man his wife claimed was a monster. Even Maeve had not planned murder and tried to stop his attack. She'd meant to hurt you by destroying John's loyalty. Now her mischief has exploded in her face, and she knows full well that it will cost her. If she must die, she will try to take us with her when she goes." Her sudden laugh was bitter and short. "Mary, Mother of God, I thought she would choke on her rage when John's man refused to finish us."
"What of Walter?" he asked quickly, grasping for the only hope left.
"Well," she hesitated, remembering her futile cry, "I think they have been killed. This man of John's would delay news of their treachery in the belief that his lord might recover enough in the next days to settle the matter with you. He thinks they have less than a week's time before we are missed by Graistan and Gilliam. If only it was true! What will Sir Jocelynn do when we do not appear in a few days?"
"Nothing, but wait. He has no cause to suspect that we've fallen foul here at Ashby. Nor will any at Graistan miss us." Rannulf groaned quietly. "If Walter has died, I fear we will as well, for I cannot believe John will survive. Now, what of the wound in my shoulder? I cannot bear to reach around to touch it."
"You have no wounds there. Your thigh yet seeps, and your head is cut." She gently touched her fingers to his shoulder. "I hope you did not break anything in your fall."
He struggled to sit up and gasped with the effort. "Help me remove my mail. If we are to die here, I will do it in what little comfort I can purchase."
A key turned in the lock. Rowena, caught holding
Rannulf's weight as she levered him into a sitting position, could only stare in surprise.
Nicola stepped swiftly and silently inside. The tall girl turned quickly to shut and lock the door behind her. By the light
of the tiny lamp on Nicola's tray, Rowena could see the medicinal supplies upon it as well as the bucket that hung from her arm.
Rannulf tried to turn himself to see, but could not. "Who is there," he whispered harshly, incapable of any louder noise.
"It is Nicola, my love," Rowena replied. "She's come to help."
"Do not be so sure," the girl replied, her tone filled with accusation. "Richard said you should be locked in here to keep you safe from Lady Maeve. He meant that I should feed and care for you, but he has not ordered it. I know that Maeve wishes you to die, and I have led her to believe that I will not help the man who has laid my father at death's door. Now, I have come to you so you can give me a reason for doing otherwise."
"Rannulf was injured because your father betrayed him and attacked us," Lady Graistan replied, unable to comprehend that this girl would come only to taunt them. Surely, she would not protect the woman who had led her father to his injuries. "He would have dragged my lord down and killed him. My husband was only defending imself."
"True, my father did wrong, but what of Lord Graistan. He knows how my father's temper can get the better of him. Why, then, would he wed him to this evil woman whose words so goaded a good and loyal knight until he hated his lord and exploded in rage when the man appears unannounced at his gate?"
"My fault," Rannulf whispered. "I would not believe—"
"You do not know how she twisted him. I heard her lies, I saw him believe them while not one word I spoke reached past his new affection for her to settle in his ears."
"Please," Rowena said, staring in disbelief as the girl still held herself aloof, "you must help us."
Nicola continued, her words now trembling with tears. "Are you any better, Lady Graistan? You dared to barter with my life. Aye, I know what you did. By promising to save me, you have used my father's love for me to gain what you wanted. But now it is my turn to do the trading. I will treat your husband's injuries and thwart my stepmother's plans for your death, but only if you will not hold Papa accountable for the evil you, yourselves, have laid upon him. If you wish to live, Lord Graistan will swear to me to spare my father."
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