Her Knight Protector

by Anne Herries

  ‘They are but an hour ahead of us on the road,’ Stefan said. ‘My messenger saw them as he returned from Rotherham. None can ride as swift as he and I knew that he would not fail us. It seems that we are now one step ahead of Ravenshurst, my brother. He believes himself secure, but he is about to ride into a trap.’

  Alain smiled at him. ‘It is a good plan of yours, Stefan, to allow them entry into the courtyard and then, when they have dismounted and relaxed their guard, to surround them with your men. If we ride hard, we should be there to cut off their escape should they manage to fight their way free.’

  ‘Ravenshurst has no idea that we were there. He will see something hanging from the battlements and believe that all is as he commanded. Once Sigmund has Katherine safe away, my men will overpower Ravenshurst’s—and then we shall see how brave they are.’

  ‘Your men have orders not to kill Ravenshurst?’

  ‘I have reserved that pleasure for you, Alain. It is your betrothed he has harmed and yours should be the revenge.’

  ‘He must die,’ Alain said and there was no sign of his merry smile, no sign of the gentle knight Katherine had fallen so desperately in love with. His mouth was hard, his eyes cold. ‘For if he lives then we shall never be free of him.’

  ‘He surely deserves to die as punishment for all the lives he has taken,’ Stefan said. ‘Yet if it turns your stomach to see him executed, challenge him to single combat and let natural justice take its course.’

  ‘That was my intention,’ Alain confirmed. ‘I know that I shall win for I think him a knave and a rogue, a blustering coward who hides behind a woman’s skirts.’

  ‘Is your arm recovered? If not, I would challenge him in your name.’

  ‘My arm is still a little stiff,’ Alain confessed, ‘but well enough for what I must do, though I thank you for the offer.’

  ‘I but offer to repay what you once did for me.’

  ‘You were hardly risen from your sickbed. My wound was naught by comparison.’

  The brothers smiled at each other, for the bond between them grew stronger with the passing years.

  ‘As I said before, the choice is yours, my brother—but you must show no mercy, for Ravenshurst would show none to you or Katherine.’

  Katherine could see the house now, and the sight of a blackened corpse hanging from above the drawbridge made her shudder and look away. The Baron was a barbarous, evil man and she despised him. Surely he must be punished for his sins?

  The drawbridge was raised as they approached, but when Ravenshurst’s herald blew his horn a man appeared on the battlements, and then there was a shouted discussion. A few seconds passed as if those within debated what should be done, and then the bridge was let down very slowly.

  Katherine remembered her first visit and the horror of seeing Celestine murdered before her eyes. It was something that would remain with her for some time, as was the sight of the corpse hanging from the battlements. So much death and pain! And it was all because of her father’s discovery. The guilt of it lay heavy upon her.

  She felt like weeping as she saw Sigmund coming to greet her. He had aged in the short time she had been away, and she knew it was grief for the son he had loved that had brought those harsh lines to his face.

  Regret swamped her. She felt his pain as if it were her own, her heart wrung with pity for him. She allowed him to help her down, and then held out both hands to him.

  ‘Forgive me for what happened,’ she said, her eyes moist with tears. ‘I would not have brought such sadness to you for the world.’

  ‘My forgiveness is not needed, my lady. It is not you I blame.’ His gentle smile twisted her heart, for she could do nothing to comfort him. ‘Come, my lady. You must be tired. Let Ethel take you to your room.’

  Katherine saw something in his face and knew that he was agitated. She glanced at Ravenshurst, but he seemed to be laughing with some of his men, clearly well satisfied with the way the people of Rotherham had given way so swiftly to his demands. He had given orders for their horses to be led away, and seemed to be demanding wine and food for his men.

  What was going on here? There was an atmosphere, a tension in the air. Katherine sensed something, but perhaps it was merely apprehension after the Baron’s last visit. They were afraid of his anger. Yet she had felt something more, something hidden.

  She allowed herself to be hurried away from the courtyard and into the house by the old woman. It was only as they mounted the spiral stone steps to her rooms that she asked Ethel what was happening. The woman gave her an odd smile, put a finger to her lips and shook her head as if to warn her to keep silent.

  They were at the top of the stairs when she heard the first shout of alarm and stopped, looking at the old woman anxiously.

  ‘Someone is hurt,’ she said. ‘I must go back. I must stop them hurting my people. Enough harm has been done as it is. He gave me his word that he would not shed more blood.’

  ‘It is he whose blood will be shed,’ Ethel told her, a gleam of malicious pleasure in her eyes. ‘We have tricked him, for it is not Sigmund’s son who hangs over the gate, but a common criminal hanged for his crimes. Things have changed here and he can no longer murder and torture as he once did. Do not pity him or his men, my lady, for they deserve their punishment. They came here to kill and plunder—and they shall die for it.’

  ‘No…’ Katherine shuddered with revulsion. She did not want this! ‘I agreed to give him what he wants in order to prevent bloodshed…’ She turned and began to run back down the stairs. This was foolish! Her uncle’s men could not hope to win against the Baron’s, and they would be punished terribly. Too many would be killed. ‘This must not happen…’

  Reaching the hall, Katherine saw that some fierce fighting was going on inside the house. She recognised some of the men as Ravenshurst’s, but there were others not known to her. It was a few moments before she recognised the colours they wore—the colours of Stefan de Banewulf!

  Had Stefan’s men broken in and taken the Baron’s by surprise? Or had they already been here? Katherine realised that it must have been a trap. Ravenshurst’s men had been allowed into the courtyard in order to deceive them into thinking themselves safe before they were attacked.

  She saw that some of the Baron’s men were unarmed and had offered to surrender, but others fought on—and were cut down by the superior numbers. From the screams and yelling echoing in the courtyard, Katherine guessed that most of the Baron’s men had chosen to fight. She covered her face with her hands as she saw men fall dying—one of them a man she knew to be her uncle’s servant. He was but a youth, his only weapon a wooden cudgel he had taken up—a poor weapon against the swords of Ravenshurst’s men at arms. A pool of his blood was spreading over the flagstones, reminding her of other atrocities—the murder of those innocent hostages at Acre!

  It was too terrible! Unbearable. Katherine had never wanted this. She had hoped that all might be settled without so much blood and pain. Ravenshurst himself deserved to be punished, but his men had but obeyed his orders—and they would not be the only ones to suffer from this night’s work. She cried out as she saw another of her uncle’s servants fall to the floor, bleeding from a wound to his side.

  ‘Come away, my lady,’ Ethel said, pulling at her sleeve. ‘This is men’s work, leave it to them.’

  ‘We must fetch salves and linens,’ Katherine told her. She was sick to her stomach, shocked at what had happened, distressed that she was inadvertently the cause of so much evil. ‘These men will need treatment for their wounds. Call my women— Maria is still here?’

  ‘Yes, my lady, for when you went without her you told her to remain until you sent word.’

  ‘Then she will know what to do,’ Katherine said. ‘Ask her to help you, and bring the things to me here. We shall do what we can to help those who suffer.’

  Ethel hesitated, for Sigmund had told her she must not let her mistress witness the slaughter that was planned, telling her to lo
ck her in her chamber if need be, but Katherine was the mistress here and she could not defy her.

  ‘Will you not come away?’

  ‘Leave me be. Do what I tell you, Ethel. I am mistress here and you will obey me.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Ethel hastened to obey. Katherine was no longer a prisoner, but a woman who knew her own mind.

  Katherine watched the slaughter continue. It sickened her, demeaned her, and yet she could not look away. Who had ordered this terrible revenge?

  At last she could see that the Baron’s men had their backs against the wall with no hope of escaping their fate. She walked forward and called out in a ringing tone.

  ‘Stop! I command that this bloodshed cease at once. Lay down your swords, all of you. I will not have such evil done in my name.’

  At her command the Baron’s men threw down their swords, dropping to their knees, their eyes turned towards her as if they knew that their only hope of mercy lay in her.

  ‘Have mercy on us, lady.’

  ‘We but obeyed our orders.’

  ‘These men have surrendered,’ Katherine said. ‘They must surrender their arms and give their promise to do no more harm here—and then they shall be allowed to leave.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Lady Katherine,’ one of Sir Stefan’s men said, inclining his head in a respectful manner towards her, yet clearly defiant. ‘But Ravenshurst’s men show no mercy to their victims and deserve none granted.’

  Her head was up, her manner proud and commanding. ‘Nevertheless, you will obey my orders. I am the mistress here—and I gave no permission for this bloodshed.’

  The soldier looked at her, clearly at a loss to know how to answer her. He had been following his orders and served his lord, not the lady of this manor.

  ‘I have my orders—’

  ‘The lady speaks truly,’ another voice said and then Stefan de Banewulf strode into the hall. ‘The fighting is at an end, Zachary. Those who swear an oath to repent of their evil and sin no more may go in peace. Our quarrel is not with these men—but with their master.’

  ‘Sir Stefan!’ Katherine cried and ran towards him. ‘I thank God that you have come. I did not want this bloodshed. Too many have died needlessly. I had promised Ravenshurst the cup if it would prevent more deaths.’

  ‘It would not have served,’ Stefan said and his manner gave no quarter. ‘There are times when only force will do. Ravenshurst is an evil, ruthless man and would have reneged on his bargain given half a chance. We had no choice but to fight for you, Katherine—otherwise he might have taken the cup and still have kept you.’

  Katherine shook her head. She was close to tears, moved by the pitiful cries and moans from the wounded. In her heart she knew that Stefan spoke truly, but the sight of so much blood had sickened her. It was like Acre all over again—and the slaughter of the hostages that had occurred afterwards when King Richard received no promises of exchange from Saladin and wreaked a bloody revenge. Something that would be a stain upon his name for evermore.

  ‘You may be right,’ she said and brushed the tears from her eyes. ‘I shall not argue for I must be grateful to you for what you have done for me—but I wish it had not happened.’ She looked about her. ‘Is Alain here?’

  ‘He is outside…’ Stefan laid a hand on her arm. ‘He intends to see Ravenshurst brought to account. If the Baron still lives, he must be punished.’

  ‘Yes, he should be punished,’ Katherine said. ‘It is for the King to decide his fate—which shall probably be death.’ Her face paled as she saw Stefan’s look of denial. A thrill of horror ran through her. He could not mean that Alain meant to kill the Baron himself! ‘No! There must be no more bloodshed! I forbid it…’

  She broke from Stefan. He swore as she dashed towards the door that led to the courtyard, following her. But at the doorway she stopped and stepped back, for Alain had entered. She stared at him in horror as she saw the blood on his hands, a few spots spattered on his face and still dripping from the sword that he held.

  ‘No…’ Backing away from him, Katherine felt the gorge rise in her throat. She had believed him a gentle knight, a good Christian, but he was no different from any other. His eyes were glittering with the lust of battle, a gleam of triumph writ plain upon his face for her to see. ‘I did not want this… I would have given him what he wanted… God forgive me…forgive you…’ She shuddered as the sickness turned inside her.

  ‘Katherine?’ Alain was bewildered by her reaction. It was no pleasure to him to kill, though he knew that there were times when it must be done. His triumph was in finding her apparently unharmed when he had feared she might be dead. ‘Has that devil harmed you? Forgive us for letting that impostor who claimed kinship take you. My father will never forgive himself for being duped as he was…’

  ‘No!’ Katherine cried as he reached his hand to her. ‘No, do not touch me…’

  She turned and fled from him, running up the stairs to her chamber and closing the door. There, she flung herself down on her couch and let the tears flow.

  ‘Katherine…’

  Alain’s voice called to her from the doorway, but she did not lift her head nor look at him. She could not bear to see him stained with blood. In her mind she could see women and children lying dead in the dust of Acre’s streets. The suffering she had witnessed there became one with the bloody fighting she had witnessed below in the Great Hall, inextricably entwined with the death of her father.

  ‘Leave me. Please leave me alone.’

  ‘I am sorry that you had to see this, Katherine.’

  ‘Please do not,’ she begged. ‘I would have given up the cup—even to that monster—rather than that it should come to this.’ She felt the touch of his hand on her head and shuddered. His hands were stained with blood, and she felt herself defiled by it. ‘I beg you, leave me. I cannot bear what you have done.’

  ‘But Ravenshurst killed your father and your uncle—and Sigmund’s son.’

  ‘And should have been punished by the law.’ She sat up at last and looked at him, her eyes drenched with tears and yet proud and angry. ‘Do you think I can love a man who would murder in cold blood? Your hands are as stained as his. Please leave me now, for I am sickened to my stomach by what has happened here.’

  ‘Katherine…’ Alain stared at her in disbelief. To hold him as one with Ravenshurst was a cruel insult and it struck him to the heart. That she who he loved could think so ill of him! ‘You cannot mean this. I had to take you back from him. I could not allow that man to hold you, perhaps to deflower you…you must understand. I had no choice but to fight.’

  ‘I understand that you killed men that had no choice but to serve their lord,’ Katherine said coldly. ‘I understand that innocent men have been killed here this day, because of what you and your brother have done.’

  ‘Katherine…no,’ Alain said feeling the sting of rejection as he saw the disgust in her eyes. ‘Katherine, I love you. I had to do it…’

  ‘He would have taken the cup and let me go,’ she said, knowing even as she spoke that Ravenshurst might still have kept her despite his promises. ‘Leave me, I beg you.’

  ‘Katherine, please…’ Alain took her by the shoulders, raising her up to kiss her. It was a hungry, despairing, savage kiss that shook her yet left her cold. She was too shocked and she could smell the blood on him, taste it in her mouth. He felt her restraint and let her go, his eyes reflecting his hurt at her rejection. She felt a pain deep inside her heart, but could not reach out to him. He had the stench of death on him, the death of innocent men. ‘Go away. I have work to do. The wounded must be tended.’

  ‘It is already being seen to,’ Alain told her. ‘Join your women if you choose. I shall not hinder you. I have other work.’ She stared at him, her eyes dark with the horror she had seen that day. ‘Ravenshurst and some of his men escaped. I must go after him—and he shall be brought to account for his sins, though you hate me for it.’

  Alain…do
n’t go… The words were in her heart, but not on her lips. Forgive me…

  Katherine remained silent as he turned and left her. She heard the clatter of his boots as he ran down the steps and felt the crashing despair as her world fell in on her. She had loved him so much—still loved him—but could she ever bring herself to forget what had happened here?

  Chapter Twelve

  Five days passed before Alain returned to report that he and his men had failed to find Ravenshurst. In that time Katherine and her women had worked day and night to tend the wounded. She had discovered to her relief that there were more left alive than she had imagined. Stefan’s men had not killed ruthlessly, and many of the Baron’s men had surrendered after seeing they were outnumbered. At least ten of them had elected to swear fealty to Stefan as their lord, and she heard them speak of him with admiration.

  It was true that there were nine dead and six so badly injured that there was little chance of saving them. Others had superficial wounds that were easily treated. Katherine was relieved to discover that the man she had seen fall was the only one of her own servants who had been killed.

  ‘Vester was Jacob’s friend,’ Sigmund told her. ‘He begged to be allowed to fight and was proud to offer his life for you—and in revenge for my son’s death.’

  ‘I am truly sorry for Jacob’s death,’ Katherine told him. ‘If it were possible, I would go back and change things—had I known what would happen here I would not have run away.’

  ‘Jacob gave his life gladly for you, my lady,’ Sigmund said, looking at her sadly. ‘He but did his duty and I am proud of him. He would not want you to suffer for his sake.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We all know of your tender heart, my lady—but Sir Alain merely did his duty.’ Sigmund met her eyes steadily. ‘And what he did here was right. Baron Ravenshurst was an evil man, my lady. It was right and proper that he should be stopped. You do not know what he was capable of—what might have happened here had Sir Stefan not caught him in his net.’