Chapter Forty-Eight—The Clearing
When Baldric tried to sit up, Grainne put a hand on his shoulder. “Take your time,” she told him. “The poison will wear off soon.” She looked around. Larkin was helping Trian. The big guard could wait. And the young one, Tomas, she thought, was alert; he could wait as well. The smooth-looking fellow would need help immediately. He had downed two mugs.
“Larkin, and you,” she said, pointing at the guard who had affected paralysis. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“That’s Ailwen,” Larkin provided. “You’re holding Warin,” he added, nodding his head at the man Grainne was propping up.
“He’ll need our help first,” Grainne instructed.
“What can I do, good lady?” Ailwen asked, hesitantly meeting her gaze.
“You can tilt his head back while Larkin props him up. His mouth is slack enough that there should be no problem pouring this down his gullet.”
“Are you sure you can’t let him stay that way a bit longer?” Tomas begged. “He’s so quiet for once.” A few strained chuckles came from Baldric and Trian.
Grainne smiled at his jest. “Sorry,” she said, “not unless you would like to carry him back to the keep and plant him there. Much longer and he’ll be apt to stop breathing all together. After he swallows,” she added with more gravity, “be ready to turn him on his side. And stand back else you end up covered with his breakfast.”
She regarded Ailwen. “Ready?” At his nod, she upended her flagon into Warin’s mouth. Some trickled down his chin, but Grainne was pleased to see him swallow.
“Make sure he keeps on his side,” Grainne instructed after Warin gave a hearty retch. “Let’s see to the young guard.
“How came you to not drink?” Grainne asked Ailwen as they tended to Tomas.
“I saw Gorman signal to switch the casks and grew suspicious,” Ailwen explained. “I was distracted and couldn’t warn the others in time.”
“You spied one of us in the woods,” Grainne guessed.
“At first I thought it was the dog,” he related.
Grainne noticed that the horrible snarling and screaming had stopped.
Lark walked over. “I’m going to make sure the beast finished the job,” he stated, his eyes distant. “Can you help the others to Baldric’s side? There is much we need to discuss.”
“And Warin?” Ailwen asked.
“If he can groan, it’s likely he can hear. Just move him closer.”
Grainne frowned. Trian was standing, albeit unsteadily, and making his way over.
“I’m coming with you, Lark,” Trian declared. “It’s no use arguing.”
“You’ll only slow me down, Trian,” Lark complained. “You can hardly stand.”
“The only way for me to move faster is to get my blood flowing. Let’s go.” Trian rounded on his heel and all but reeled to the edge of the clearing. Lark shook his head and followed.
It didn’t take them long to find Gorman. The doomed soldier had been intent on escaping the dog, not hiding his trail. It was a gruesome sight. Lark knelt and felt for a pulse on Gorman’s wrist. It was impossible to find one on the man’s shredded neck. The hand he was holding was missing a finger; another digit hung by a strip of skin. But it was Gorman’s face that gave them pause. The dog had ravaged it.
“Too bad about the beast,” Trian said as he frowned down at the mastiff. Lark gave up finding a heartbeat and spared a moment for the animal. He was spread over Gorman’s chest, staring unseeingly into the forest. Gorman’s hand still held the hilt of the knife that was embedded in the top of Garamantes’s head.
“We’ll bury the dog,” Lark allowed. “Let the carrion birds have Gorman.”
“Lark, are you all right?”
“No, I’m not,” Larkin admitted, “but I will be when this is over.” He nudged Gorman’s dead body with his toe. “Lord Roger and this man, you cannot imagine. They’re lucky to be dead. I only regret that I was not the one doing the killing.”
“Lady Aubrianne must be a formidable woman, Lark,” Trian stated. “I can’t imagine the strength it took to be married to a man such as Roger.”
“No, you can’t. She is stronger than even she realizes. Stronger than us all, I fear.”
Before Trian could ask him what he meant, Lark set to work covering the dog with rocks. After one last look at Gorman, Trian turned to help.
• • •
Lord Baldric and Tomas, Larkin observed upon returning to the clearing, were sitting upright. Warin was lying on his side, and Ailwen was attempting to prop him up.
“Is Gorman dead?” Baldric asked.
“Quite,” Trian replied when Lark remained silent. “The dog, too.”
Baldric cleared his throat. “We need to talk, men. Why don’t you start, Lark? I think Lady Aubrianne has told you much already. If you know more, Grainne, please jump in.”
Lark began the story with Anna’s arrival at Stolweg and her life over the past three years. His eyes darkened when he hinted at Lady Aubrianne’s ordeal.
“We decided to act before we knew your cider was drugged,” Grainne explained to the assembled men. Before Baldric could speak, she continued hastily, “Forgive us. We believed our task would be easier if you were out of harm’s way. We would never have allowed them to hurt you. Roger and his men were always targeted.”
“I wondered how it was possible that you had the exact draught we would need to recover,” he commented. “But you should have trusted me. You can trust me. We could have spared you from—”
“We did not know that at the time, m’lord,” Grainne interrupted. “And we had to move before our lady returned. You see, Lady Aubrianne had reached her end, just as Lady Isabel had.”
“Her end?” Baldric asked.
“She was going to pit herself against Lord Roger and would have done so at the expense of her life. We were not willing to lose her.”
Baldric looked at Lark for confirmation, and then nodded appreciatively. “So many blows to Lord Roger, it’s impossible to determine which killed him. I believe King Godwin will be relieved; it will save him from dealing with a charge of treason. But how did you know that Lady Aubrianne was going to act?” Baldric asked.
“The morning you came, my mistress was changed. It was much the same with Lady Isabel the night before her death.”
Lark caught her eye. “Lady Isabel did not jump to her death as once thought,” Lark provided, placing his hand on Grainne’s. “She was murdered by Roger, or on his orders. Go ahead, Grainne. Tell us the rest.”
She told Baldric of Lord Roger’s abuse of first Lady Isabel and later Lady Aubrianne. She began with the story of Will’s lashing. “Lady Aubrianne saved Will. He was to receive fifteen blows. Six were dealt. Lady Aubrianne t-took the rest.”
Baldric was stunned. “God’s oath, is this true?” But Lark’s gaze was fixed on some point in the distance.
“Lord Roger,” Grainne resumed, her voice cracking, “had summoned Lady Aubrianne to his chamber the night before your arrival. Something terrible must have happened, for she returned much changed. I’ve never seen her so determined, and so resigned.”
“So you deduced that she was going to kill him?” Baldric asked.
Grainne nodded. “We believed she only held back because she was worried about Chevring. Will overheard her asking Cellach to take a message to her parents, to warn them.”
“Damn. The message!” Lark interjected. “Baldric, this was delivered this morning, after you left the keep.” He pulled out the letter from his tunic.
Baldric wasted no time breaking the royal seal and reading the missive. “Good Lord, no!” he exclaimed. “This cannot be!” He handed the parchment back to Lark.
“Not Chevring,” Lark stated, horrified.
“What about Chevring?” Grainne demanded.
“Destroyed, Grainne,” Baldric answered. “Every man, woman, and child is presumed dead.”
“I have to leave!”
Grainne cried. “I have to help Lady Aubrianne. If someone tells her…” She jumped up, hastening to the narrow road that would lead her to the keep.
Lark rose to join her, but Ailwen had already readied his mount and was putting a lead on one of the soldier’s horses. “I’ll see her back safely,” he offered. “Baldric needs you here. You missed much while you were away.”
“Tell her I…” he started, then lost his words when he noticed the others giving him peculiar looks. “Tell her that we will return soon.” Ailwen nodded, and Lark took his place next to Baldric once more.
“Does the message say how Chevring was destroyed?” Warin asked him, finally sitting up on his own.
“It does not,” Lark replied. “Only that it is gone.” He stared down the path where Anna had ridden, wishing more than anything that he could be with her.
“You must have a sense of Lady Aubrianne’s character, Lark,” Baldric said. “Will she survive this news?”
Lark swept his eyes to Baldric and replied, “It will only make her stronger. Baldric, I—”
“We’re almost done here, Lark,” he interrupted. “I’m beginning to think there is more to Lady Aubrianne than meets the eye.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Lark told them as they resumed their council in the clearing. “Lady Anna began an unorthodox training when she was quite young. There’s a gift that runs on her mother’s side of the family. Every few generations, a girl is born with certain talents. Swordplay, quarterstaff, knives, and bow. You name it, she’s mastered it.”
“But she’s only a woman,” Tomas scoffed. “Granted, she’s tall and quick, but she’s thin.”
“Not thin, Tomas. Lean,” Lark corrected. “She is all muscle and coiled to strike any time. I know. She bested me at quarterstaff.”
At their disbelief, Lark expounded, giving them an accounting of their bout.
“So she caught you unexpectedly,” Warin interjected.
“Yes, but not in the way that you are thinking. First, she intentionally dropped her guard. I continued my swing, one I thought she would block, but my staff connected with her side. I stopped to see if she was hurt. Before I knew what had happened, I was flat on my back with the end of her pole at my throat. It was a neat little trick. You should ask her to show you, Tomas.” Lark noticed a strange look on Baldric’s face. “What is it, Baldric?”
“I’ve heard rumors about such women,” he replied. “The Queen has been searching for the descendants of Lady Jeanne for years. Your mother, Lark, has been helping her.” Baldric stared down the trail that led back to Stolweg Keep.
“Who is Lady Jeanne?” Tomas inquired.
“Lady Jeanne fought in the Great War against Nifolhad,” Warin explained. “The King’s scholars claim that she fought better than most men. And tracing further back in history, you’ll find similar women in every war. Lady Jeanne was said to have descended from those women. If Lady Aubrianne is a direct descendant…”
Lark turned to Baldric. “Are you going to tell us the rest?”
His mentor drew his gaze from the trail and focused on Lark before speaking. “There is always such a warrior in times of great strife. If Aubrianne is the latest incarnation of her ancestors, then her existence heralds more than a single lord’s grasp for power. It suggests that another war is upon us.”
Lark turned away and felt Baldric’s hand on his shoulder. “Such women are marked, Lark. They have no choice but to be strong. Anything less does not occur to them.”
• • •
Ailwen trotted up to the half-running, half-walking Grainne. “It’ll take you all day to return on foot. I’ve brought a horse for you and will see you safely to the keep.”
Grainne stopped. She ogled the horse and shuddered. She hesitated but a moment before screwing her courage tighter and putting her hand on the saddle’s pommel. If it took her having to ride a beast to help Lady Aubrianne, she would do it. When she lifted her foot to the stirrup, the horse snorted, and Grainne shrieked and stumbled back. Not of the Chevring line, the gelding startled and bolted back the way it had come.
“Are you hurt?” Ailwen asked with concern. When she shook her head, he held out his hand. “Let me take you, then.”
Ailwen hoisted her into his saddle. His arm circled protectively around her waist. “You can hold the pommel if it will help,” he offered.
“What’s its name?” she nervously asked.
“Her name is Hellfire.” Grainne’s hands shot out to hold the saddle horn with a white-knuckled grip, and she heard Ailwen chuckle. He kicked his mare forward. “It’s a misnomer, Grainne. I promise. My horse has the sweetest disposition in the world.”
“Oh,” Grainne managed to squeak.
“I’m going to speed up our pace,” he told her. “Just a nice, easy canter to spare you some jarring. We’ll reach the keep much faster. Ready?”
Grainne closed her eyes and shrank back into the strong chest behind her. Ailwen held her tighter as Hellfire found her gait. Grainne decided she might not ever like the sensation of such a large creature moving underneath her, but she certainly fancied the feel of Ailwen. They would be back at the keep in no time at all.
Chapter Forty-Nine—Chin High
As they rode into the courtyard and to the stable, Anna and her friends earned more than a few curious looks. Several of Roger’s men loitered about, others hurried to the main gate. Only those few who were born at Stolweg remained to face the scrutiny of Lord Baldric. For any of these men, only time would tell. Anna hoped they would redeem themselves.
The sound of the cart rolling into the courtyard caught her attention. After handing over Tullian’s reins, she headed out of the stable. Carrick, who had driven the cart, was doing his best to hold back his daughter.
The girl was crying hysterically, beating her fists against her father’s chest; she’d seen Roger’s body. Everyone in the courtyard had turned to witness the spectacle. When Maggie noticed Anna, she flew at her, hands upraised like claws. “You killed him!” she screamed. Anna grabbed the tiny wrists, easily deflecting the attack.
“Control yourself,” she said in a voice too low to be heard by the onlookers. “There are only a few here who know of your shameful behavior. If you continue your ranting, all will come to understand your misfortunate attachment to my husband.”
Maggie pulled herself up as if she were a queen. “Your husband!” she spat, caring not that her father was standing next to her. “Your husband cared nothing for you. He would have rather seen you dead than be married to you.”
Anna slapped Maggie’s face with such speed that the young woman was knocked sideways. She’d always thought of Maggie as a victim. Though the girl’s words were spoken in misguided grief, Anna no longer cared. She’d had enough for one day. Enough for the last three years. Enough for the rest of her life. “Carrick, your daughter is not herself. Please see her home.”
“Yes, m’lady. Thank you, my lady,” he said and shuffled his daughter away.
Anna felt the weight of every eye upon her. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the cool shadows of the keep to tend to Doreen’s wound.
Afterward, in her chamber, Anna closed the door for a brief respite. She would have to answer the inevitable questions from Baldric soon enough, and then they would all discover just how deep the roots of Roger’s treachery grew.
• • •
Grainne’s only thought was to see to her mistress, and to make sure that she heard about her family from a friend. She ignored all else, including the inconsolable Maggie, who passed her as she made her way to the main gate of the keep. She raced to her lady’s chamber, then steeled herself before opening the door. Lady Aubrianne was resting near the hearth. “M’lady, there has been news from King Godwin,” Grainne began, sitting on the couch next to her mistress and taking her hands. She delivered the news as gently as she could.
“Destroyed?” Lady Aubrianne asked, as if disbelieving. “Destroyed,” she repeated with a f
inality that chilled Grainne to the bone.
“Lady Aubri—Lady Anna, let me…” Grainne started, but couldn’t finish. Her mistress stared straight ahead, into the cold hearth. Grainne recognized the haunted look that came to her lady’s eyes. She’d observed it over and again for the past three years, only to be squelched by her lady’s sheer determination. But Grainne was worried. Lady Anna would believe that she must remain strong for her people. Grainne knew that if her mistress didn’t allow herself to grieve, she wouldn’t allow herself to be happy. That was no way to live, now that she was out from under Roger’s thumb.
“I want to see this message from Godwin,” Lady Anna demanded. “As soon as Baldric returns to the keep.” Her lady stood up and paced in front of the fireplace. “We must determine if Stolweg is threatened. I will not lose another family.”
• • •
By herself at last, Anna stared down at the mortar and pestle that she had used so many times to prepare her healing salves. She would mourn in her own time, in her own way, and only after fulfilling her duty to Stolweg and its people. It was what her grandmother had taught her: face adversity with chin held high, shoulders back, and chest out.
Quite unexpectedly, Anna remembered her sister Claire, and how they would giggle when they puffed out their flat, girlish chests. Their grandmother’s tsks would have them rolling. Remembering Claire and those carefree days, she felt as if her breath had been knocked from her. Something inside snapped.
She began to shake. Such a rage as never had she felt before swelled inside her. For more than three years, she had survived Lord Roger. She had turned her back on every blow and violation; she knew that to do otherwise would mean her family’s destruction. He had dangled their welfare over her head like a noose. And then he’d done the unthinkable. He had slaughtered them. How he must have enjoyed knowing they were gone as he continued to threaten her into subservience.
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