Margo Maguire

by The Virtuous Knight

  And Isabella was gone.

  He dropped to his knees and prayed for her soul, then folded his hands and touched his forehead, adding a prayer of thanks for Lucy. He realized he wanted to make something of the life God had given him, starting now, with Lucy.

  With his full attention upon his prayer, and the rain falling in sheets against the house, Alex did not hear the disturbance outside. He made his peace with the past and was rising to his feet when he heard a crash and Lucy’s terrified scream.

  Lucy struck the first man in the forehead with the poker and he went down hard. The second one dodged the blow, and when he started to grab the weapon from her, she threw it at him. She managed to run to the far side of the trestle table, certain that as long as she stayed there, he would not be able to get to her.

  Just as she wondered where the third black knight was, he came in through the back hall, the way she and Alex had done when they’d first arrived at the house. When he came toward her, she knew she was cornered.

  But a second later, Alex dashed down the stairs, his sword drawn. Instantly, he engaged the newcomer in battle, while Lucy tried to slip away from the knight who held her hostage behind the table. She had to ensure that the man she’d downed with the poker remained down. Alex was capable of dealing with two attackers, but ’twould not do to have the third man join the fray.

  With a quick glance to the hallway, Lucy saw that the knight was still unconscious. But the one who’d tried to grab her had drawn his sword and was going for Alex. Lucy grabbed a heavy, iron candlestick from the table and went after him. She struck him, but the blow glanced off his shoulder ineffectually.

  He turned on her then. She screamed and started to run from him, but her foot caught in her skirt and she started to fall. He caught her by the arm.

  Lucy whimpered with pain when he yanked her arm behind her, holding her tight against him with his sword at her throat.

  “Enough, monk!” he shouted at Alex.

  In the instant Alex glanced over, his attacker lunged, spearing Alex’s side. The color drained from his face and Lucy’s heart leaped into her throat when the blood gushed from his side.

  Alex staggered, but stayed on his feet, clutching the bleeding wound. “Let her go! Your fight is with me!” he called out, his voice harsh and rasping.

  “Your fight is over,” one of them said.

  “Hand over the cloth.”

  “Release my wife.”

  “When the cloth is in our hands, the woman will go free,” Lucy’s captor said.

  The man on the floor groaned and pushed himself up. With murder in his eyes, he started for Lucy, but the leader of the three halted him with a look.

  Lucy quivered with fear. The black knight would slice her throat if she moved, yet if she did not help Alex…

  With great difficulty, her husband pulled the silver scabbard from his belt and started to hand it to the knight who’d stabbed him.

  “Nay! It could be a trick!” called the man with the sword at Lucy’s throat. “Open it and take out the cloth.”

  Alex struggled to do as he was bid. His fingers were awkward at their task, and Lucy’s heart cried out to go to him, to do something about the wound that bled so profusely. She started to speak, but the sword bit into her neck and she knew the knight would kill her without hesitation if she struggled.

  But Alex’s wound needed immediate attention, or he would die.

  With shaky breaths, Lucy watched him pull the Mandylion free of the scabbard and let it drop open. To Skelton’s men, ’twas no precious relic, but only a treasure to be plundered and sold.

  Still holding the cloth, Alex fell to his knees. Lucy cried out.

  The front door burst open. Several knights in blue livery swarmed into the great hall with swords unsheathed. Her captor shoved Lucy aside and she dropped to the floor. In the midst of the melee, she crawled to Alex, who lay at the foot of the stairs in a pool of blood. The Mandylion lay beside him while the battle raged ’round them.

  Picking up the precious cloth in one hand, Lucy lay it upon his chest while she reached across him to press her skirt against the wound.

  An odd heat, taut and vibrating, shimmered up her arm and into her shoulder. “Alex!” she cried, terrified that the strange sensation she felt was his soul passing out of his body.

  The heat filled her, shot through her arms and legs, neck and head, until she was no longer aware of the men fighting around her. There was only the heat.

  And Alex, lying beneath her, bleeding, groaning.

  “What…Lucy?” He was frowning, dazed.

  “Lie still and let me—”

  He sat up suddenly, bringing her with him.

  “Alex, you—”

  He moved quickly, agilely, helping her to her feet. Lucy did not understand how he had the strength to half carry her up the stairs, away from the fray, yet there was no weakness in him. He did not act as though he’d been mortally wounded. “You were near death,” she cried. “Skelton’s man…he k-kept me from you.”

  “I’m all right,” he said, hugging her close. “And the Clyfton men have settled matters.”

  She looked down the stairs, and through her tears, saw that the men in blue had defeated Skelton’s knights. They stood silent over the bodies with their swords at their sides.

  “Alex Breton?” one of them called in surprise.

  “Aye.” Alex went halfway down the steps to meet the other knight.

  “We were on patrol and saw these men riding toward Clyfton House… I had no idea you were back.”

  “’Tis good to see you, too, Stephan.”

  Lucy watched Alex descend the rest of the stairs and embrace the man at the bottom.

  “Your brother will be pleased to see you.”

  “And I, him.”

  Stephan glanced up at Lucy. Alex turned to her and she started down the stairs. Her gait was oddly steady and she walked without pain as she approached her husband, whose hand was outstretched to take hers. There was no blood at the foot of the stairs, none on Alex’s tunic.

  And her lame leg seemed…

  She looked up at Alex, and with tears filling her eyes, took his hand. They were home, and here they would stay.

  “My wife, Lady Lucy,” Alex said. “Meet Sir Stephan of Clyfton, an old friend.”

  Epilogue

  “One would think that after four children, a husband would have learned to deal with having his wife in childbed,” Beatrice muttered, carrying clean cloths into Lucy’s bedchamber. “’Twill not be long now, Alex.”

  Alex could not keep himself from pacing the hall while his eight-year-old sons, John and Roger, kept apace beside him. His two younger sons played outdoors with their nurse, happily oblivious to what was taking place behind this closed door.

  “When will she be finished, Papa?” Roger demanded.

  “This has been going on far too long,” John asserted, crossing his arms over his skinny chest.

  Alex had to agree with John. Lucy had been in labor for too many hours with this one, and he could not help but worry that all was well, even though she’d not had a moment of illness in all the years of their marriage.

  They’d been blessed from the very beginning of their life together at Clyfton House, saving the Mandylion from mercenaries who would have sold it to the highest bidder. And they continued to be blessed every day.

  “Go outside with your brothers, lads,” he finally said, jabbing his fingers through his hair. He had to go to Lucy and see for himself, and the bedchamber was no suitable place for the twins now.

  “But—”

  “No arguments. I’ll come down after I’ve seen to your mother.”

  Alex patted each blond head and the boys obeyed him reluctantly. As their footsteps faded on the stairs, he turned the door handle and stepped into the chamber he’d shared with Lucy for nearly nine years. He offered up one more prayer before stepping to the bedside where she labored to deliver their fifth child.

  �
�One more push, m’lady!” said the midwife as Alex knelt beside the bed and smoothed the damp hair away from his wife’s forehead. She was completely immersed in her task, but he knew she was aware of him by the way she took his hand and held on.

  Alex prayed for a girl this time, but he had said naught to Lucy. As long as she and the bairn were all right, he would be satisfied.

  She made a sound that was half cry, half grunt and pushed again, her shoulders tensing, her body contracting with exertion.

  “Aye, Lucy…she’s coming now,” Beatrice said, crouching to help ease the bairn from Lucy’s body.

  A tiny cry filled the room, and Lucy let out a small cry of relief.

  “’Tis the lass you’ve been wantin’,” said the midwife.

  Lucy said naught, but turned to gaze into Alex’s eyes, showing him all the love and joy they’d shared over the years.

  “Your daughter, my love,” she finally whispered. Her voice was weak from exhaustion, and Alex touched his lips to hers and cupped her face in his hand. Her eyes drifted closed.

  “Lucy,” he whispered. Emotion welled up in his chest, his heart taut with love. He felt satisfied, complete. Lucy was so much a part of him, he could not imagine how desolate these past years would have been without her.

  And he’d come so close. He kissed her temple. “I love you.”

  She smiled, depleted.

  And then her eyes flew open. “Ave Maria,” she cried. “Beatrice!”

  As Lucy gripped Alex’s hand again, Beatrice quickly placed the new bairn into his free arm and went to help the midwife. His worry was cut short, for the infant was squalling madly for her mother’s breast. He rocked his new daughter gently while Lucy gave out another cry and pushed.

  “Beatrice?” he croaked.

  “’Twould seem you’ve been doubly blessed, once again, Alexander,” Beatrice said as Lucy pushed out a second bairn. “What would you say to two daughters?”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-4331-6

  THE VIRTUOUS KNIGHT

  Copyright © 2003 by Margo Wider

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