The Amethyst Amulets

by Cillian Burns

  Nicholas stood in the courtyard of Simon's house. The others had gone inside, but he had lingered to enjoy the fragrant night air. At last, the earl had seen reason, and with Nicholas had traveled to Navarre. Their talks with the king had gone better than expected. Concessions were made by both sides, and Nicholas’ mission in Gascony had been accomplished.

  He planned to leave on the morrow. On the way home, he would report to the king, and Henry would be pleased—for now. Next month, some other woe might beset him, but if Nicholas was lucky, the king would turn to someone else.

  He gazed up at the moon, hanging like a great silver plate in the night sky. The same moon looked down on Julie. Would she see it and think of him? Mayhap, or mayhap not. She acted like she enjoyed his company, but she also wanted to go home. And if she went...he knew instinctively he could not go with her. After the year was up, Lily would send her back, and he would stay here, most likely with neither Julie nor Julianne, with only the long empty years stretching before him. Then he would die, and seven hundred and fifty some odd years later, she would be born. Or had that already happened? Lily might know, but she kept her secrets well.

  He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder.

  "You seem distracted this even, my friend.” Simon moved to stand beside him and glanced up at the full moon. “Did you not say you married this year?"

  "Aye, to Julianne, daughter of Hector of Alder."

  "I believe I met her when last I attended the king's court. Was she not one of Queen Eleanor's ladies? As I remember, an extremely lovely woman."

  "Aye, she is beautiful and a good chatelaine, also."

  Simon's grinned. “I will wager you were not thinking of how well she runs your household."

  Nicholas laughed. “A bet you would win."

  Simon's face suddenly hardened. “You will report to Henry how you manipulated me?"

  "Nay, milord. The decision was yours. I will say you thought arbitration a good idea."

  "Ever the diplomat."

  "Actually, I am no diplomat. I know not why Henry chose me."

  "I do. In your calm, non-assertive way, you have forced me to comply with the king's wishes and like it, wishes I might add, diametrically opposed to my own. Is that not the definition of a diplomat?” Although Simon was frowning, Nicholas sensed he was not all that displeased.

  "I suppose so, my lord."

  Simon's frown disappeared, and he once again slapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “Come, my friend. ‘Tis time you were abed should you wish to depart at dawn tomorrow.

  Nicholas nodded and the two strolled in companionable silence back to the house. He hoped the night passed swiftly. The eagerness he felt to be headed north once more, almost gave wings to his feet.

  Julie awoke to birdsong outside her window. A robe lay across the foot of the bed. She donned it, then went and tried the door. It was locked and there was no key. Next, she tried the window and discovered her room was located on the topmost floor of the keep. Probably to make sure no one tried to rescue her. They'd never suspect a frail woman capable of escape on her own. And frankly, she wasn't too keen about trying to climb down four stories.

  A tap at the door interrupted her musings.

  "Come in.” Was it Eleanor, or had Miles returned?

  She heard the key turn in the lock and a serving girl peeked in. Behind her, an armed guard peered over her shoulder. “I brung food to break yer fast, milady."

  Surprised, Julie asked, “I'm not to go downstairs?"

  The girl hung her head. “I'd not know that, milady. I was told to take this to yer chamber."

  Apparently, Julie was truly a prisoner. Well, she'd see about that. “Thank you. Just put the tray on the bed.” The servant gave an awkward curtsey and left.

  As Julie began to eat, someone else knocked and Eleanor rushed in, boiling with indignation.

  "I just learned you were brought here as a captive, to be held for ransom,” she spluttered, sparks shooting from her expressive amber eyes. “How could my husband do that?"

  Julie raised an eyebrow. “I thought you understood the extent of his dislike of Nicholas."

  Eleanor sighed and flung herself down on a stool. “Oh, I do, Julianne. I just wish I did not know him so well."

  Julie nodded. “I suppose it's hard when someone you once loved betrays you."

  "I am not sure I ever loved him. Desired him, aye, but love, love is different, you know."

  "Yes, I know.” Nicholas’ image rose in Julie's mind.

  "It did not take me long to find out what kind of man Miles really is.” A tear trickled down her cheek. She caught Julie watching her and glanced away. “I am so sorry about all this, Julianne. I will try to find a way to free you."

  "It's not your fault, Eleanor.” Julie laid a hand on the other woman's arm. How amazing. Eleanor was worrying about Julie, when it was Miles’ wrath she should be thinking of. What would Miles do to his wife if he found out she planned to help Julie? Something unpleasant and painful, she was sure. She shuddered.

  Eleanor turned to face Julie. “Mayhap not, but I think there must be something about me which invites his anger. He must consider me a great fool."

  Julie shook her head. “Some people get an unnatural thrill out of hurting others. And that makes you a victim, not a fool."

  Eleanor sighed and walked to the window. “'Tis little I can do about it, although I thank you, Julianne, for your kind words.” The early sun touched her black hair with shiny blue highlights, hair so much like her brother's that Julie's heart skipped a beat. He was so far away.

  Julie cut off a piece of cheese and wrapped a hunk of bread around it. As she nibbled it, she wondered how long she'd be imprisoned here, like some fairy tale princess in a stone tower.

  But she shouldn't depend entirely on Nicholas to rescue her. There must be some way out of this mess and she hoped to find it—somehow.

  Eleanor interrupted her thoughts. “And what of you, Julianne? Where is my brother that he lets you be taken by one of his own men?"

  "Miles told the truth. The king sent for him. He hasn't returned, so I guess whatever Henry desired him of him is taking a while.” She hoped he'd found the men he wanted. To drive Miles from the gates of Barstow Castle, he would need them. Having seen Nicholas’ awesome skill with a sword, she had no doubt who would win a contest between Miles and him. But what if he had been sent on to help de Montfort deal with Navarre? Historically, she knew what was happening in the world and feared his involvement would lead to a long separation.

  Eleanor nodded. “I suppose he had to go. No one gainsays the king—and lives."

  "Yes, that's what Nicholas said. But he was going to hire some more mercen...” Julie stopped abruptly. What if Eleanor had been forced to spy on her by the despicable Miles? But wait. Robert the traitor knew where Nicholas had gone and what for. Miles had probably learned all about Nicholas’ plans from Robert before he died. But could she be sure?

  A smile curved Eleanor's full lips. “You need not fear I will betray you, Julianne. I am sure my husband's spies have told him everything. Even if they have not, Miles would never hear it from me."

  "I know that, Eleanor. I don't know why I doubted you."

  "These days, doubting is wise,” the other woman said cynically. “Everyone seems to have dark secrets."

  That reminded Julie of her own secret. How would Eleanor react if Julie told her she came from the future? She would probably just smile and say, “You would make a good storyteller, Julianne."

  She swallowed back her desire to confide in Eleanor. She had promised Nicholas not to talk about her time, so she wouldn't, even though the temptation to unburden herself was great.

  Eleanor walked to the door. “I must go. Miles will be impatient to tell me what to do today, and my sons need instruction on the gentler side of life. Heaven knows,” she added with a sigh, “they see far too much of the harsh realities."

  Julie nodded. “Come back when you can. I enjoy your
company."

  "Aye.” Eleanor rapped on the door and the guard unlocked it from the outside. She glared at him. “This is totally uncalled for."

  "It does no good to berate him, Eleanor. He's only following your husband's orders.

  Dear God. If only Nicholas would soon come home.

  Archangel, sensing fresh hay and a warm stall, thundered down the road to Barstow Castle. Seeing the castle's towers rising above the trees, Nicholas urged him to an even faster pace. Man and horse, almost one entity after many years of soldiering together, flew down the rutted path only to pull up short as they exited the woods. The fields ahead of them were trampled and muddied by feet and hooves, as though many men had camped there.

  His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the castle itself. Although all looked peaceful, something was wrong.

  "What is it, Lord Nicholas?” Will looked anxious.

  "I know not, but all is not well.” As they drew closer, Nicholas saw the drawbridge was raised. “Strange,” he muttered. While the portcullis might be lowered to prevent uninvited entry, the drawbridge was only raised at night. Lifting his gaze, he observed the guard had been doubled on the wall.

  He reined in Archangel and called up to the strange face peering at him, “Lower the drawbridge. Your lord would enter."

  Almost immediately, the face was replaced with the familiar one of Sir Edgar. “My lord, welcome back,” he called down. “You have been sorely missed."

  The cacophony of creaking chains as the drawbridge was lowered prevented Nicholas from asking questions. But uneasiness tugged at his gut. What had caused this abnormal precaution? Then he remembered the churned ground of the fields. Had an army besieged the castle in his absence? Had the men he sent been in time to help defeat them?

  The bridge settled into place with a thud and he galloped across it, intent on finding some answers. As he pulled Archangel to a stop in the lower bailey, he heard the drawbridge ascending again. And this time the portcullis dropped into place while several men-at-arms pushed the huge wooden gates closed and barred them.

  "Report,” Nicholas snapped as Sir Edgar hurried up, letting his displeasure show in a fierce frown. “Are we expecting a siege? From the looks of yon fields, an army has already been here and departed.” This last was delivered a bit sarcastically as he could see no reason at the moment for such drastic measures.

  "Nay, Lord Nicholas. We are hoping the army that was here, will not return and are exercising caution."

  "Miles?"

  "None other."

  Nicholas should have known. The lily-livered blackguard had besieged his castle while he was from home. As far as tactics went, however, Miles’ sneak attack was flawless.

  "What of the soldiers and knights I sent?"

  "They arrived too late, my lord,” Sir Edgar said quietly. “Even with you away, we thought it strange he would besiege us when our gates are strong, the army due to be reinforced at any moment and the harvest safely within. But then, we learned his true purpose."

  "Which was?” Nicholas glanced around, wondering where Julie was. Would she not come to greet him after his long absence?

  When Edgar said nothing, merely looked grim, Nicholas barked, “Speak up!” His heart plunged into his boots. He was not simple. Miles’ arrival and retreat added to Julie's absence told him the answer to his question.

  "Lord Miles abducted the Lady Julianne,” Sir Edgar murmured, an abashed expression on his face.

  "What?” Nicholas slid from his horse

  "It was Sir Robert who took her.” Edgar's mouth drew down in disgust. “We sent him to you with news of the siege. He was to leave late at night, so no one thought it strange he had gone. We did not realize until morn that the Lady Julianne was missing. There was no way your lady could have left except with him, since no one would challenge his passing."

  "But the question is—did she go willingly?” he ground out between his teeth, hating that he doubted Julie for even a minute.

  "I do not know, but it is my fault, my lord. I was in charge. I should have put a guard on the lady, but all the men were needed on the walls. That is not an excuse. Just an explanation."

  Anger raced through Nicholas’ body like wildfire. He pinned Sir Edgar with a malevolent gaze. “Aye, you were in charge, and you should have protected my wife at all costs. We will discuss that later. First, we must rescue Julianne.” His hands shook as he lifted his helm from his head and handed it to Will.

  "What is your plan, Lord Nicholas?” Edgar asked quietly.

  "I have not yet decided.” Nicholas let his eyes sweep around the bailey. Many unfamiliar faces met his gaze. “Have the new troops worked well with the old?"

  "Aye, my lord."

  "Tell me what happened to Miles and his army?"

  "We thought it strange when they first appeared that they did nothing. Since your mercenaries had not yet arrived, we closed the gates and waited. Then the lady was taken, and his army broke camp and headed for Norville Keep. Scouts followed them to make sure they would not double back and take us unawares again."

  Nicholas nodded. “Good.” He thought a moment, then asked, “What of Robert? Where is he? With Miles?"

  "We believe so. I sent a few of our veterans, as well as several of the men you recruited, to watch Norville Keep. They will send word if Sir Miles’ army ventures forth again. The mercenaries’ leader is the new man called Rannulf."

  "Aye. A big man, experienced. I told him to take charge of the other men I recruited."

  "He seems very competent.” Sir Edgar was obviously relieved not to have Nicholas’ wrath vented on him—at least for now.

  Nicholas strode to the center of the bailey and raised his voice. “At first light tomorrow, we leave for Norville Keep. Everyone will go except those assigned to guard duty. We can spare only a few, so the castle will be sealed tightly when we leave and not opened again until our return."

  "So, we will besiege them as they did us?” Sir Edgar smiled, apparently glad to turn the tables on their enemy.

  "Mayhap not.” A plan was forming in Nicholas’ mind. He would think on it, though, before imparting the particulars to the others. Robert would pay dearly for laying hands on Julie, but Miles was the true prize he meant to take.

  Two days later, Julie once again heard a commotion in the bailey below her window. Curious, she rose from the stool, where she had been mending her torn shift, and went to see what was happening. To her surprise, what appeared to be Miles’ whole army was assembling. Some men carrying crossbows and quivers of arrows were racing up the stairs to join those already in place on the wall. Every notch in the wall held at least two bowmen. The scene appeared so similar to the one she'd witnessed at Barstow Castle, she blinked to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

  No, this was all too real. She spied Miles himself, standing in the midst of things, giving orders.

  A shout from the wall caught his attention. “An army approaches, milord."

  Julie watched Miles bound up the stairs and stand looking out over the road beyond his narrow moat. “It is de Montclair,” he shouted down to the men below. “That huge horse of his would give him away even if his banner did not."

  High above the men, Julie leaned farther out the window and gasped, “Nicholas!” Her heart raced. He had come, just as she'd hoped.

  Several other knights joined Miles on the wall—to see for themselves, Julie supposed. Their loud voices drifted up to her window.

  "He has added to his army, just as we heard,” one of them said.

  "I count ten knights. De Montclair, Sir Edgar, Sir Harald and the six new ones he has acquired.” Sir Selwick, Miles’ seneschal, pointed. “There are over a hundred men. A force equal to ours."

  Miles motioned his knights to join him below, and Julie could hear nothing more of what he said. From her vantage point, she took in the welcome sight of the man she loved riding that mountain of a horse, followed by what she would have called a few men. Her idea of an army, made Nicholas’ forc
e look small indeed.

  Remember the time period, she told herself. Wars were fought by far fewer warriors in this century than in later years.

  Nicholas halted his soldiers at a safe distance, then rode Archangel up to the moat.

  "Show yourself, Norville,” he shouted, his voice so sweet to Julie's ears she almost called back to him. However, she'd no more disturb his concentration than she would jump out the window.

  Several minutes passed, before Miles appeared on the wall. He seemed less arrogant than he had during his short siege of Barstow, probably because Nicholas was the one confronting him now.

  "Ah, there you are.” Nicholas gave a mock bow. “I believe you have my wife in your keep. Although I can see why you might be reluctant to give her back, I fear I must insist."

  "Go to hell, de Montfort. She stays here."

  Nicholas’ lazy disdain changed instantly to deadly menace. “Then I challenge you to single combat, winner to take Lady Julianne and the other's lands. The loser will take a place in the winner's dungeon, if he survives.” He grinned wolfishly. “Agreed?"

  Julie felt the blood drain from her face. Dizzy, she sank down on the window ledge. Nicholas would win, wouldn't he? Miles couldn't kill him, could he? Was it possible she might truly belong to Sir Miles in the very near future? How could Nicholas be so reckless? There must be some better way of settling this.

  Miles hesitated. Finally, he said, “I accept your challenge and terms.” Julie didn't think he sounded too happy about it.

  "One more condition.” Nicholas’ ringing tones could be heard even by the army assembled within the walls. They all fell silent, waiting to see what Miles would say.

  "Name it."

  "Lady Julianne. I wish her brought here, so I may take her with me when I leave.” Julie clenched her hands until her nails bit into the palms. Such arrogant confidence! Nicholas seemed to have no doubt he would triumph over Miles. If only she could be as sure.

  "Agreed. And I will take her back when I win.” Miles turned and stomped down from the battlements.

  Julie dressed quickly.

  A few minutes later, a heavy knock rattled her door. “Sir Miles wants you,” a guard growled, entering without waiting for permission. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. Julie pulled away from him and marched out of the room, swerving as the man reached once more for her arm. “Don't touch me,” she hissed and walked down the stairs.