Wild Lavender: The Aurelian Guard - Book One

by Nicole Elizabeth Kelleher

  Two days ago, his brother had assured him that his father’s man, Lord Phelan, would soon arrive from Chevring, bringing the men who would fortify Stolweg. Chevring and Ragallach were already under Roger’s control. Phelan could be trusted to complete whatever task was set before him, the current one being the transport of the massive weapons from Chevring to Stolweg. Once here, they would prepare for their advance on Whitmarsh.

  Roger recalled how his brother had crowed that the testing of the weapons on Chevring had been an utter success. He was supposed to have waited for Roger to be there. And now Lady Claire had disappeared. His brother had probably raped and killed her.

  But Roger had found the perfect way to get back at him. Instead of going to the clearing where his brother would be waiting the next morning, Roger would stop halfway there, and take care of Baldric and his men this very afternoon. He couldn’t wait to see his brother’s face when he found that he’d been robbed of the chance to inflict pain on Godwin’s men.

  All of their planning would soon come to a head. His brother’s forces would join with his, and together they would march on Whitmarsh. Lord Baldric’s castle would topple as easily as Chevring’s had. The path would then be clear to march on an unsuspecting King’s Glen. And this time, Roger wasn’t worried that his brother would take all the glory unto himself. For Lord Phelan played no favorites when spying on them for their father.

  It was finally within his reach, Roger thought with eager anticipation. Once all of Aurelia was secure, his brother and Phelan would leave. Roger would reign over this side of the Western Sea, his brother the other—but only after he wrested the throne from their father’s grip.

  • • •

  “I’ve news concerning these so-called attackers from Nifolhad,” Carrick whispered to the others. “When I warned Maggie to stay close to the keep because it might not be safe at the mill, she laughed at the idea, saying that Lord Roger would protect her. I told her that he’d been attacked and injured. She told me I must have misheard, because Lord Roger had talked to Gorman about going to meet his brother.”

  “His brother?” Gilles asked, hoping no one would ask how Maggie had been privy to a conversation between Lord Roger and Gorman.

  Carrick shrugged. “Seems we’re not the only ones scheming. You’re sure we shouldn’t wait for Cellach?”

  “We can’t risk it,” Gilles answered. “We must make our move today.”

  Grainne agreed. “The timing is right. Lady Aubrianne must be spared this act. She’ll not return to the keep until the late afternoon. Even if she rides hell-bent to intercept us, it will take her hours. By then, the deed will be over.”

  “Be cautious,” Doreen added. “Lord Roger ordered Gorman to fetch two casks of cider last night. Gorman claimed Lord Roger wanted it on hand to celebrate once they captured the men who’ve infiltrated Stolweg. If you cannot remain hidden in the forest, do not partake of any drink with the others.”

  “Do you think the King’s men are at risk?” Gilles asked his wife.

  “Grainne is better suited to answer that question.” All eyes turned to the small woman.

  “This morning,” Grainne began, “I noticed that some of my herbs were missing. Mixed together in the proper quantities with the right minerals, Lord Roger could certainly poison the cider. We all know how he likes to torture his victims, so I doubt that the drink will be deadly. He’ll want Baldric and the guards incapacitated, but aware.”

  “We’ll have to be ready,” Doreen stated, “for the King’s men will be vulnerable.”

  “That will be our cue, then,” Gilles decided. “When Lord Roger moves against the King’s men, we act. Heaven protect us and allow us to save them.” Gilles’s words were met with nods all around. “Spread the word, Carrick.” One by one, the group dispersed.

  Chapter Forty-Seven—Ahunt

  Hours ahead of daybreak, Lark and Anna had eaten a quick meal. Neither had wished to leave the cavern that had become their private sanctuary. What would it be like to just ride away with Lark, she wondered, and start a life together where no one knew them? But she could no more forsake her friends than he could abandon his. So they’d set out while the night yet ruled the sky, riding much too slowly, but having to do so for the sake of Rina and her filly.

  When they reached the castle, her husband, Baldric, and the King’s guards had already departed. Strangely, the keep was empty of Anna’s friends as well. The courtyard and stable seemed deserted save a few servants and a scullery maid. One of Roger’s soldiers came out of the barracks. With a little encouragement from Larkin, he finally explained that Lord Roger had been attacked, and he and the others were hunting down the men.

  “I’m to tell you that you are ordered to stay in your chamber, m’lady.”

  “Ordered by whom?” Anna demanded.

  “Lord Roger. And you, sir,” he added, “Are to stay here as well. As, er, stated by Lord Baldric.”

  “Very well, then,” Anna acquiesced. “But pray, can you tell me where I can find the stable master?”

  “Out with the horses, I suspect.”

  “How about the cook?” Lark asked. “I’m famished.” The soldier shrugged.

  “Perhaps you could call for my maid,” Anna suggested.

  “How am I to know the whereabouts of all the servants?” the man grumbled. “Come, m’lady. I’ll escort you to your chamber.”

  “We’ll see to our horses first,” she stated, brooking no argument, and marched into the stable leading Tullian and Rabbit. Lark went to set Rina and Honeycakes loose in the paddock.

  “M’lady,” a soft voice whispered, and Anna turned to see Rheeta, one of the farmers’ wives, hiding in a stall. “A messenger came from King’s Glen. I told him that only Lord Roger’s soldiers were in the keep when he said that his message was for Lord Baldric only.” She pulled a sealed letter from her sleeve, and handed it to Anna. “I told him to wait at the mill, that I would see it delivered when Lord Baldric returned, but something strange is happening here. I’m afraid of the soldiers.”

  Anna climbed back atop Tullian and whispered, “Stay hidden.”

  “I will, m’lady.”

  Lark entered the stable from its rear entrance. “Ready?” she asked.

  Lark opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. He mounted Rabbit. “There are more soldiers in the courtyard. It’ll be a race to reach the main gate before they close it.”

  Outside the stable, they could hear men approaching. “It’s already closed,” Anna informed him.

  “The west gate is still open, m’lady,” Rheeta said.

  Anna nodded. “It will be guarded, but if we charge, they’ll fall away like barley under a sickle.”

  “After you, then,” Lark said, and they bolted from the stable, scattering the soldiers who were converging on them. The man posted at the western egress pressed himself flat against the side of the tunnel, not even raising a hand to halt them as they thundered by.

  After they crossed the bridge, Anna slowed to a trot. She patted Tully on the neck, an assurance that they would soon run. It had been four days since he’d had a good gallop. She glanced back. Strange—Roger’s men were making no attempt to follow them. Anna remembered the letter, and handed it to Lark. “This was just given to me. It’s for Lord Baldric from the King.”

  “We’d best hurry then.”

  “Before we go, Lark, there’s something I need to tell you.” Tully pranced in anticipation. “I like to ride.” Anna stated.

  “Of course you do. You breed horses and—”

  “No,” she cut in, “you don’t understand.” Lark and Rabbit pulled up next to her. “I am betimes willful, and usually stubborn.”

  Lark rolled his eyes. “You don’t say?”

  “I do say. But when I say that I like to ride, well, there’s no easy way to explain.” She whispered to Tullian, and he started dancing. “I am what I am, Lark. Try not to worry. If you can’t keep up, I’ll meet you at the forest’s edge.”
Under the shadow of the bridge, she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. With a signal to Tullian, her horse shot forward. She didn’t look back. Lark would catch up. Eventually.

  She and Tullian flew. Moments later she heard Rabbit’s hooves pounding into the lush soil near the river. Then Anna lost herself in the feel of the wind whipping past her face and the power of her steed. They raced through the western orchards and into the open pastures that spread before the looming forests. The sea of field barley was already deep, and their path cut through its gentle waves. Lark raced somewhere behind.

  Four pounding hoofbeats became eight. Lark rode close enough to her that Anna could touch his shoulder. On they rode, over the fields, pulling up just shy of the woods. Its tangle of brush and briars, as forbidding as the mountains to the northwest, blocked their passage.

  “They’re following the old road,” Anna said, her breath rapid after the hard ride. “The way bends to the south like a bow, then turns back to the west. I’d say they have a good hour on us.”

  Lark peered into the near-impenetrable forest before turning his dark gaze upon her. “Let’s be the bow string and make up some time.”

  “You think you can find a way through there?”

  “Anna, I can find a trail through anything.” He smiled cunningly. “If I can’t, I make one.”

  “Lead the way,” she said. “This time, we’ll follow you.”

  Lark and Rabbit leapt back and forth to find an opening. Once one was discovered, the horses twisted and pivoted through the trees. It was what the steeds had been trained to do. If in a time of war, they would have to weave their way through battlefields filled with fighting men. For an hour or more they zigzagged through the forest, veering from one deer trail to the next.

  Anna noticed a human footprint in the soft dirt to their right. It was fresh. Unfortunately, she wasn’t paying attention to how closely she rode behind Lark, and Rabbit’s passage caused a thin branch to whip back. It stung her cheek before she could duck.

  Rabbit lunged forward and disappeared. Tullian followed, leaping high, and Anna was blinded by bright sunlight. Leaving the wild darkness behind, they had caromed into a sunny clearing. Lark was waiting for her, and she saw him frown.

  “You were riding too close.” He wiped a drop of blood from her cheek with his knuckle.

  “I know. I was distracted,” she panted from the excitement of the ride. “Did you see it?”

  “It?” he asked.

  “The footprint.”

  His eyebrows raised a fraction. “I’m surprised you saw them too. We were moving fast.”

  “I saw only one. How many were there?”

  “At least eight tracks. Two belong to women. Anna, what are your people up to?”

  “I wish I knew,” she said. Tullian sensed her urgency and hastened forward. She held him back long enough for Lark to reel Rabbit ’round before hurtling once again into the dense woods.

  • • •

  They had made good time, Roger thought. With luck, he would be rid of Godwin’s men before his supper. His brother was at least a day’s ride southwest. “We’ll set up a base camp here,” Roger announced. “This clearing is central to these woods.”

  “Shouldn’t we be searching for tracks?” Baldric demanded.

  “There’s enough daylight for hours of searching.” He alighted from his horse and ordered three of his men to prepare the camp. “Gorman, send out the remaining men to scout for tracks.” They’d already agreed to send the men to retrieve his brother.

  “These woods are dense—it could take weeks to find the bastards who dared attack me,” Roger explained to Baldric, then turned to give another order. “You there, tap that keg. Let’s make a toast to ridding Aurelia of unwanted men, eh, Baldric?” This farce would soon be over, Roger thought. And this would be Baldric’s last taste of his cider. He was looking forward to informing his brother and Phelan of this success.

  • • •

  Ailwen watched the trees. He thought he’d seen something. Several minutes passed without so much as a quiver of branch, and he relaxed, a little. Perhaps it was that damnable mastiff Lord Roger insisted on bringing. No, the dog was still tied to the cart.

  Ailwen made note of the soldier removing the cider from the cart. Gorman cuffed him and whispered in his ear. The young soldier stopped and unhitched the other cask. Ailwen was about to warn Baldric when he thought he saw movement in the trees again. He watched, and waited, but saw naught else.

  The cask! Ailwen tried to make it back to his group. Unfortunately, Baldric and the others had taken deep draughts from their mugs. Gorman shoved a cup at Ailwen. He took it roughly, sloshing most of the contents before tipping it to his mouth and pretending to drink. Warin grabbed a second cup and drank with gusto.

  Ailwen managed to dump his into the grass without notice. If the cider was true, he could always have a second cup poured. If it was tainted, he would feign whatever symptoms the others had. For if poison was in the cards, his best bet was surprise.

  • • •

  “Are you sure it won’t kill them, Grainne?” Gilles whispered.

  “Not as long as I can get to them in time.” She thought about the missing herbs, broom and devil’s bread. “I’ve prepared a grog to speed their recovery.”

  Gilles nodded. “Then we wait for Lord Roger to make his move. Stay hidden.”

  • • •

  Hearing voices, Anna and Lark slowed their pace. As the words grew more distinct, they dismounted and crept closer.

  Anna touched Lark’s arm and whispered, “Lark, before we move forward, there is something I want to tell you. I meant to earlier, but I—” She had wanted to say that she loved him, but the shushing of metal leaving leather stopped her cold.

  She and Lark inched forward and beheld the strangest scene. Roger, Gorman, and several of Roger’s soldiers surrounded Baldric and the others. They held drawn swords while the King’s men did nothing to protect themselves. Quite suddenly, Warin’s knees buckled and he fell sideways to the ground. Tomas followed, then Baldric, who managed to stay on his knees. Ailwen, too, fell. Trian, because of his great size, crashed to the ground last and with a painful thud.

  She and Lark looked at each other. “Poison,” he whispered. Anna nodded, then tilted her chin in Ailwen’s direction. His hand was inching to the hilt of his sword.

  Larkin signaled with his hand, trying to capture the fallen guard’s attention. On the third try, Ailwen noticed the pale flash of palm. He looked directly at them and blinked twice.

  “Stay here,” Lark whispered. Before Anna could argue, he stepped from their hiding place.

  But she did not remain still. She moved away in order to enter the clearing from another direction. Roger spied Lark and placed the tip of his sword at Baldric’s throat.

  “Lose your weapon,” he ordered. “Drop it now!”

  Hoping to divide Roger’s attention, Anna marched into the clearing and straight up to her husband. “What do you think you are doing? Release Lord Baldric at once,” she ordered. “Or have you gone mad?” It was a dangerous ploy, but Lark and Ailwen needed a distraction. Anna knew she was the last person her husband expected to order him around. Lark drew his sword.

  She had seen Roger angry before. This was different. There was a feral madness in his eyes. His wide-eyed stare shifted back and forth between her and Larkin. His grip on Baldric’s jerkin loosened, but the sword dipped dangerously to Baldric’s heart. Anna gave him a satisfied smile, hoping to distract him even more.

  “You Chevring whore!” he hissed, his voice pitched and reedy. He moved his steel from Baldric and lifted it to strike her. Anna was ready and dodged the blow. Roger raised his arm again to swing at her.

  “Hold!” came a shout from the trees, and Will stepped into the clearing.

  “And you’ll be next!” Roger yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. Will’s arrow sped across the clearing before Roger could act on either threat.

&nb
sp; Her husband dropped his eyes, puzzled that there should be an arrow sticking out of his chest. His mouth opened to speak, but no sound came forth. He stared at the boy who had shot him, then looked down again. Four more arrows had pierced him. Ailwen and Lark sprang forward to protect their friends. Roger succumbed to gravity and fell back, gazing uncomprehendingly at the bright blue sky.

  • • •

  “Drop your weapons,” Gilles ordered, standing next to his son. The soldiers did as they were told. Only Gorman had been able to draw blood. Cur that he was, he had attacked Doreen, throwing his mace at her. Had she not jumped sideways, her skull would have been crushed. The weapon’s head had only grazed her.

  Doreen touched her temple, and her hand came away bloodied. Gilles caught her just before she sank to the ground. Anna saw Gorman draw his sword to finish the job. He was stopped when Carrick’s arrow took a notch from his earlobe. Roger’s man did as he was told.

  Her friends had saved her from spilling her husband’s blood, Anna realized, but were leaving the fate of Gorman in her hands. She went to Lark. What was it that she saw in his eyes: disbelief that she had not listened to him or anger that she would put herself in danger? They stood toe-to-toe, and she gazed into his eyes before pulling his dagger from his belt.

  She needed to face Roger. His hateful eyes fixed on her as she pulled the ruby ring from her pocket. While her husband drew his last breaths, Anna held the fragile jewel in her palm and struck it with the onyx-inlaid pommel of Lark’s knife. Shards of broken ruby rained down upon him. Then, Roger passed into what Anna hoped would be hell.

  Gorman, she thought. Oblivious to those around, she walked to where he waited.

  “Lady Aubrianne, please. I was only following orders,” he begged.

  Before another word could be uttered, Anna brought the tip of Lark’s knife to his throat. “You are not permitted to speak,” she hissed.