She remembered the expression on Roger’s face when she had crushed the ruby he had given her. With his dying breath, he had sneered at her. Now she knew why. She picked up the crock filled with the balm she had created for the purpose of healing and hurled it as hard as she could at the tapestry depicting the wedding.
• • •
Once Baldric had given him his leave to ride ahead, Lark wasn’t long behind Grainne’s arrival at the keep. He’d caught up with her in hallway, and she filled him in on Anna’s behavior. He’d expected as much. He should have come back with her and not given her a chance to build her walls. But as he stood in her open doorway next to Grainne, he was taken by surprise. Broken crockery and splattered balm dripped from the tapestry across the room.
When Anna turned to them, breast heaving, eyes wild, Lark cautiously approached, then held her as sobs wracked her body.
In one swoop, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. He strode to the couch near the fireplace and sat with her there, she half in his lap. “You’re going to be all right, Anna,” he whispered. “I promise. You’ll be all right.” She lifted her eyes to him several times, as if she wanted to speak, only to bury her head in his shoulder, dissolving again to tears. He continued to murmur words meant to soothe until, finally, her tears subsided.
Lark lifted her chin and she gazed up into his eyes. Gently, he wiped her cheeks.
“How, Lark?” she implored him.
“We don’t know, Anna. We only know that every building has been razed.”
“When did this happen?” she asked.
“Weeks ago, we think,” he told her.
• • •
Weeks ago, Anna thought. Weeks ago, Roger had returned. His elated mood was one that had terrified her. Weeks ago, he had brought additional Chevring horses to Stolweg. Weeks ago, he had spoken of a fire there, but refused her any details.
Anna imagined that she could smell the coppery scent of blood, the stench of burning flesh, sickly and sweet. She was the last of her line now. And she wouldn’t rest until those responsible for the destruction of Chevring were brought to justice. And justice meant that every last one of her enemies would die. By her own hand, if necessary. If she was sure of one thing, it was that her late husband had not been alone in his actions.
“I’m so sorry, my Anna,” Lark said.
She turned to him then. “Not as sorry as Roger’s accomplices will be,” she vowed.
Chapter Fifty—Cellach’s Return
Cellach marveled at how the children supported one another, persevering without complaint. And although he was proud of them, and told them so, he worried. He’d yet to see a single tear.
More troubling to him, however, was their immediate future. Had he delivered them from Chevring just to lead them into a trap? In a few hours, it would be morning, and they would be near one of Lady Aubrianne’s hidden glens. He would have to leave them alone.
As the dawn finally rose, his tattered group heard voices. He gave them a signal to wait while he scouted ahead. He returned moments later to find the children bunched together, their eyes apprehensive. He beckoned them forward.
They were tired to the bone, Cellach realized, after riding all night. But they followed him with trust. He watched their faces as they entered a small clearing where beautiful Chevring mares and foals grazed. Standing in their midst were two men, staring back at the children with identical expressions of disbelief.
• • •
Anna had put off meeting with Baldric far too long. She was the Lady of Stolweg; it was time she acted the part. Her people needed a leader.
She studied her reflection in the tall glass. This day, her stable garb would not serve. “I’ll need one of my gowns for this meeting, Grainne,” Anna said.
“Of course, m’lady,” Grainne replied. “I know just the one.” In the meantime, Anna set to work on her hair, plaiting it so that nary a tendril escaped. There was a knock at her door and she heard someone speaking to Grainne.
“A note, m’lady. From Carrick. He found it in the cart,” Grainne explained when Anna came from behind the partition to dress.
“I’ll have to read it later,” Anna said, setting the folded paper on her worktable. As Grainne helped her into her gown, a soft breeze entered through the open windows and played about the chamber. The note slipped to the floor unnoticed by either women.
• • •
Anna was the first to arrive at the appointed place in the courtyard, and waited for Baldric. When he arrived, he walked purposefully toward her, but stopped halfway between the castle and the fountain, his attention captured by some excitement near the main gate.
Upon hearing the familiar beat of horse hooves, Anna turned to see the small herd of mares and their foals enter the courtyard. But their numbers had swelled. Behind the horses rode Will and Gilles. And Cellach! And he was grinning. She raced to them, recognizing at once the children of Chevring. Luke and Sarah, Adele, and another boy. Robbie? He’d been only four when she departed her childhood home.
Anna counted the beautiful children. Seven. Seven survivors. Luke had already slipped from his mighty steed and was rushing to her. She picked him up and swung him around in a circle, his legs flying high into the air. They were crying and laughing at the same time. Sarah ran, protectively holding a bundle. Anna opened her arms to take in Sarah and the baby she held swaddled against her. Robbie joined them, and Adele, then the younger children. Anna looked down at the small boy running to her and called, “This cannot be Adam. You were barely walking when I last saw you. Such a fine boy you are.” He beamed back at her, elated that she remembered his name. Anna looked at them all and named aloud those she could. “Luke, Adele, Robbie, and Sarah. Sarah, who is this beautiful girl you hold?”
“M’lady, this is Hannah. She was farmer Daniel’s daughter.”
Anna’s heart broke again, thinking of their loss. These children were orphans. She felt a tug on her skirt. “Know me? Know me?” a little boy asked hopefully.
“How could I not, sweet Paul? I once swaddled you when you were smaller than Hannah.”
Anna glanced helplessly at Baldric, and he tipped his head in deference to the greater need. Their conference would have to wait until the children were fed and settled. They were walking to the castle when the children skidded to a stop. Finding Cellach in the crowd that had gathered, they raced to him. Anna saw his eyes brighten as they hugged him before returning to her. She mouthed the words thank you to him and bowed her head in respect. Off to the side, Lark was standing with Trian and the others. There was not a dry eye among them.
“Miss Anna, Miss Anna?” Sarah was calling.
“Sarah, it’s Lady Anna now,” Luke corrected in a loud whisper.
“That’s all right, Luke,” Anna said. “What is it, Sarah?”
“Have you heard from Pieter?”
“Pieter?” she asked, remembering fondly the stable hand who had helped her to evade her mother so many times. How could she tell Sarah that he was lost? “No, Sarah, I am sorry.” The young girl was undeterred, and Anna worried about the long road she would have to travel before accepting the deaths of her family.
“I just thought that you may have heard from Miss Claire. Pieter left with her, weeks ago.” She was about to ask the girl to explain when Cellach ran to her.
“Lady Aubrianne,” he gasped, out of breath. “Your sister—she may have escaped.”
“Thank you, Cellach,” she said, hugging him fiercely. “Thank you for bringing these children, for giving me hope that not all is lost. And thank you for returning to me safely.” As she stepped away, she gazed upon the children. Had she seen Cellach’s face, the unwavering devotion in his eyes would have shaken her to her core.
After the children had been settled, Anna found herself with an hour to collect her thoughts before meeting with Baldric. The sun had almost set below the western hills, and Anna decided to walk to the chapel. The cool interior was empty as she entered and
proceeded to the altar. Earlier in her chamber, she had prayed for courage and for hope. Her prayers had been answered with the return of the children to her care. And knowing that Claire might still live, Anna was humbled. She spent what was left of her time giving thanks.
When she finished, she walked to where she knew Lark would be standing on the shadowed steps outside. Without a word, for she had none to express what her heart had for so long buried, she pulled him to her. He was so solid, so real, and she drew in his scent as if it were his very essence.
“Thank you, Lark.”
“For what, Anna?” he asked.
“For making me feel safe.”
“Thank you for letting me.” He tilted his head in the direction of the keep. “They’ll be waiting for you.”
• • •
They entered the great hall, and all eyes turned in their direction. Lark took his seat next to Baldric. It was Anna who spoke first, not Lord Baldric. As the Lady of Stolweg, it was her place to do so. Her voice was cool and modulated. “Cellach, I think it best if you start at the end.”
She held up her hand at the puzzled looks from the others. “We all are aware of the circumstances regarding the ruination of Chevring,” she put forth. “I would like Cellach to describe what he saw. And we have additional information from the children. Once told, we may be able to draw some conclusions as to the reason for my home’s destruction and my husband’s treachery.” She nodded to Cellach.
Cellach told the others of finding the trail that he now knew belonged to Claire and the Chevring stable boy. He described what he saw from the ridge overlooking the castle. “I was discovered by a soldier. I’m sorry, m’lady,” Cellach warned her in advance, “but before he died, I asked him where they were holding the survivors. He told me there were none.”
Anna locked eyes for a moment with Lord Baldric, and nodded. Cellach continued. He related the details of the weapons that Luke had described: great rolling machines, ten in all.
“Did the boy say what type of machine it was, Cellach?” Lord Baldric asked.
“No, my lord, he could not name it. His description made it sound similar to a catapult. I even suggested this, and he replied that the weapons were too different.”
“Mordemurs,” Anna announced, to their collective surprise. Cellach jumped from his seat. “Mordemurs,” she repeated, placing a calming hand on his arm. “The machines are mordemurs.”
“But how?” Cellach charged. “No one, not even you, should know of such a weapon.” He sat down heavily. “What am I saying? It is not yet even a weapon, just a design. A drawing.”
“What is this mordemur?” Baldric demanded.
Anna raised her hand again, asking for their patience. “We will explain.” She turned to Cellach then. “If you go through your sketches, you will find one missing. I once had an opportunity to search the documents on Roger’s desk. He had one of your drawings, and he had stolen a ledger from Chevring. In my father’s script was a notation regarding lumber that was to be taken as payment by Roger. A note in the margin, written by Roger, said Chevring: Mordemur, 10. At the time, I thought that Mordemur was the name of a person.”
She saw that Baldric’s patience was wearing thin. “Tell them what the word means, Cellach.”
“It is not the name of a man,” he said to the others. “It is the name of a weapon. Mordemur is not meant to be one word—that must have been Lord Roger’s idea. It is three separate words: mort de mur, or “death of walls.” If they have built ten of these weapons, then Chevring was just—”
“Target practice,” Anna concluded.
Baldric rose and began pacing. “Out with it, Cellach. What can these weapons do?”
“A mordemur is to a catapult as a crossbow is to the longbow,” Cellach replied. “In theory, my wall killer can pierce any battlement, no matter how fortified. It is stronger and faster and ten times more accurate. I designed them so that they could be dismantled, the base becoming a wheeled wagon for transport. They can be moved easily over any terrain. Hills, plains, mountains.” He turned to Anna. “M’lady, when they discover that Lord Roger is dead, they will turn on Stolweg.”
“Would ten be enough to destroy a fortress such as Stolweg?” Baldric asked gravely.
“It would take only a few days with that many,” Cellach replied. He hesitated a moment before saying more. “The boy told me that more soldiers had returned for the machines. When they departed, they took the old forest road, the one that leads to Stolweg. The machines are already on their way.”
“We have one advantage in all of this,” Anna proclaimed, and all eyes settled on her. “They do not yet know Lord Roger is dead. Until they do, Stolweg is not a target.”
“How long will it take them to reach the keep, Cellach?” Baldric demanded.
“From Chevring? Three, four weeks perhaps. They have already had two. The mountain pass will slow them.”
“So for now,” Anna summed up, “we plan our welcome party.”
Chapter Fifty-One—Duty
It had been an exhausting two weeks, Anna reflected, and they were no closer to a consensus of what to do than they had been before. She had wanted to launch a force against the men bringing the mordemurs to Stolweg, and do so as far from the keep as possible. But Baldric had argued that they did not have enough men to attack a force that size, and waiting at the keep would allow King Godwin to send reinforcements. Anna saw the logic of his stance, but worried that King Godwin’s army would not arrive in time. At least she and Baldric had agreed on one thing: sending scouts to assess the size and whereabouts of the Nifolhadian forces.
Anna stood atop the battlements and searched out into the dusk. The endless councils with Baldric had gone as expected. The few answers they found only served to raise more fears and more questions. But then Anna’s life had always been about the unknown. She took a deep breath as she continued to survey the dim land below.
It was strange for her to stand alone, so high above the peaceful fields and pastures below, knowing her land would be thrown into turmoil. The men with whom her late husband had allied himself would soon be at the gate. Anna prayed that they would arrive with no thought of destroying Stolweg.
With that in mind, they formulated a plan. When the Nifolhadajans arrived, Baldric and the guards would ride out to meet them. Anna insisted on joining the sortie with Cellach at her side.
No mention of Roger’s death would be uttered in hopes of buying the people of Stolweg a little more time. Upon discovering the cold reception, the strangers would reassess their strategy. Anna estimated that it would be a matter of hours before the construction of the machines commenced.
From memory, Cellach had redrawn the machine for Lord Baldric. The weapons of the keep would make nary a dent, so well armored were the workings. There was no chance of destroying the mordemurs by conventional means.
But Anna had noticed a weakness in the design. If she and her people were to survive, she would have to take matters into her own hands. This time, she would not tarry. Waiting too long to act had cost her her family. She wanted to go over her idea with Lark before presenting it to Baldric and the others.
He and Warin had just returned. They’d done what they could to slow the enemy’s progress but judged that the weapons would arrive in another two or three days. King Godwin’s army had decamped for Stolweg but would not arrive in time. Anna’s heart ached thinking about the beautiful and peaceful land below marred by the approaching Nifolhadajans.
The air around her cooled as the sun faded, giving way to the deeper blue of the encroaching night. Above her, the stars were already bright in the sky. They gave her hope as she walked back to her chamber. She put aside all thoughts of impending battle and focused instead on Lark. They’d spent too many nights apart, and her heart ached for him.
When Anna entered her chamber, Grainne was there, laying out her sleeping gown. Her maid helped her to shrug out of her dress. “Would you like me to stay awhile, Lady Anna
?” Grainne asked.
“Thank you, Grainne, but no,” she answered, loving that her friends had taken to calling her Lady Anna. She pulled on a robe over her sleeping gown. “It’s been a long day, and I’d like to check on the children.”
Outside her room, they moved in opposite directions, with Grainne taking Anna’s tray to the kitchen. The children were sound asleep. Piles of clothing, toys, and the like filled the room. Anna smiled, proud that her people were so giving.
She was making her way back to her room when she passed her chamber door, and instead walked on to Lark’s quarters. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been avoiding her. She knocked determinedly on his door and waited for him to answer. When the door remained closed to her, she made up her mind and opened it herself. He was not within. So she sat on the lone chair in the chamber and waited for him. And waited.
The moon ascended, its light flooding the room, marking the time as it cast its cool wash upon the floor. Anna lingered, following the splash of light as it inched away from her. When her impatience grew too great to bear, she stood and paced. Finally, she leaned against the wide, sloping ledge of the window.
A breeze swirled through the room as she bathed in the moon’s beam. She skimmed her hands forward along the sill, feeling the cold, hard stone as it inclined to the outside. It was difficult to imagine a weapon that could penetrate the bulky walls of Stolweg.
“Where are you, Lark?” she whispered to the night. She sighed, knowing she’d tarried here too long.
As Anna turned from the window, the air shifted in the dark room. She peered across the dim chamber. There was just enough illumination from the window for her to recognize Lark’s familiar silhouette. His head was lowered, and he didn’t seem to see her. She waited, breath held, as he lit the candle on the table. It took a mere instant for him to sense her presence. His eyes, though unaccustomed to the dark, homed in on her immediately.
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