by Barb Hendee
Though I’d anticipated some resistance, I’d not expected him to refuse outright.
“Perhaps Erik could take a few days off and escort me?” I pressed. “I would be safe with him.”
Taking a long drink of wine, Erik shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t be spared night now. Father and I have hired some new men and I’m hip-deep in training drills.”
He didn’t know anything of what Chloe was facing. If he had, he would have found a way to take me to Whale’s Keep. But it was too late to tell him now. I’d allowed Christophe to marry a woman who was carrying another man’s child, and I had no idea how Erik might react to either the news or the fact that I’d said nothing.
Instead, I turned to my last hope. “Mother,” I said. “She sounded so alone in her letter. I would be a comfort to her and I could help deliver the child.”
My mother’s eyes grew warm and she reached out to touch my hand. “You are a loving sister and I know you wish to be with her. I would like to be at her side too. But your father is right. The waves are high at this time of year and he’s told me of the dangers of the crossing to the island. Chloe is not alone. She has Lady Mildreth and the midwives of Whale’s Keep to help her. I know it sounds harsh, but there is no reason to risk your safety.” She paused. “I will write to Chloe myself this evening and explain. She will understand.”
My father nodded in agreement and that was his signal that the discussion was over.
I would not be allowed to join Chloe.
* * * *
Over the next four days, I began to question my initial decision to do nothing with the information I’d overheard. But every time I struggled to mull over choices of what I might have done, someone would have suffered. Had I spoken up and broken off the marriage, Chloe would have been shamed beyond imagining. Julian would not marry her without a dowry and Christophe would not only have refused the marriage, he might have rescinded his promise to send troops. And then what would have become of our people?
Had I taken some action to try to help Chloe, later I might have blamed myself for the marriage and for having taken an active part in deceiving Christophe.
My silence had been based on the fact that my presence in the closet had been an accident and I should not have been there. I should not have heard any of the exchange between Chloe and Julian and as a result, it would have been wrong of me to take any action.
As things played out naturally, the wedding had taken place. This had been none of my doing.
Or had it?
All I knew was that Chloe suffered now and she wanted me to come to her, and I did not know how to make that happen. My parents and Erik had refused and I couldn’t fight all three of them.
On the evening of the fourth day following the arrival of Chloe’s letter, I walked to the log building that served as our second residence. Upon reaching the dining room, I found Mother, Father, and Erik already there again, but none of them had taken a seat yet.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s vanished’?” my father asked.
“No one has seen him for days,” Erik answered. “Nearly a week. I know he owes Lieutenant Toruline a good deal of money, but I doubt it was enough to make him run.”
Of whom were they speaking? Who had vanished?
“Good evening, my girl,” my mother said, offering me her usual warm smile. “I heard you have some new baby chicks. I’ll come and see them tomorrow.”
I was about to answer her when Corporal Devon walked into the room. He halted at attention and spoke to Erik.
“Forgive the intrusion, my lord. But Lord Christophe has just arrived in the courtyard, and he is uncertain about disturbing the family at dinner.”
“Christophe?” Erik repeated. “He’s here? Send him in at once.”
As Corporal Devon left, my mother clasped her hands. “I hope nothing is wrong.”
“If it was anything serious, he’d have come straight in,” my father answered.
Though my father’s words made sense to me, I still couldn’t fathom what would bring Christophe back here with no prior message and no invitation. It wasn’t like him.
Only a few moments later, Christophe walked into the dining room. He appeared road weary, as if he’d ridden hard, and he wore chain armor and the light gray tabard of the de Fiores. When I looked at him more closely, I saw a deeper weariness in his face and dark circles beneath his eyes.
His gaze locked instantly upon me, but I couldn’t read his emotions.
“Is Chloe well?” my mother asked.
As if realizing how alarming his sudden presence must seem, Christophe raised one hand. “Yes, my lady—no, she is not…” He paused and drew a breath. “She is not ill, but she is not entirely well. It has not been easy on her, carrying a first child so soon, and in an unfamiliar home. She has been asking for Nicole. After reading your letter, telling her that you could not allow Nicole to come, she has fallen into a quiet sorrow.” His voice held a note of recrimination.
“Oh,” my mother said, reaching for the table as if needing to support herself.
My father began walking toward her swiftly.
But Christophe went on. “I came to see if you might now agree to part with Nicole until the child comes. I have brought several of my best men. Nicole will be well guarded on the journey and I will row her to the island myself.” He looked to my father. “You know my skills in a boat. She will be safe.”
Erik stepped forward as if he’d not heard correctly. “You came all the way from Whale’s Keep to fetch Nicole?”
Christophe nodded. “Yes, and I’d like to start back in the morning.” He spoke to my father again. “May I bring Nicole to Chloe?”
There were undercurrents here that could not be spoken. No matter the marriage and the new bonding of our families, we were obligated to Christophe. His men protected our people.
“Of course,” my father answered. “You may take her. I did not realize Chloe was feeling quite so in need of her sister.” He turned to me. “You would still like to go?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I’ll be ready first thing in the morning.”
Christophe closed his eyes and opened them again. “Thank you.”
Erik ushered him toward a chair. “Come and sit. Our cook made breaded trout and corn cakes tonight. You love trout and corn cakes.” He looked over to me. “Nicole, fetch him a goblet of wine.”
I hurried to get the wine.
As Christophe sat, I heard him say to my father, “Oh, and young Belledini arrived safely. He’s been staying at the keep, but I’ll insist on sending him over to the barracks soon.”
“Julian?” my father asked in what sounded like surprise. “He’s with you?”
I half-turned toward the table.
Christophe frowned. “Yes. He said you sent him to me for further training.”
My father glanced at Erik and Erik smiled quickly. “Oh, that was me. He owes my men so much money I thought it best to pass him off on you for a few weeks.”
Christophe half-smiled. “How very big of you.”
“See if your Captain Fáuvel can teach him how to use a sword,” Erik joked. “I’ve had no luck so far.”
But I knew he was covering. He and Father must have been discussing Julian when I’d first walked in. Julian had vanished from White Deer Lodge and now he’d turned up at Whale’s Keep. Erik probably thought he was hiding out to avoid gambling debts, but he also did not know enough about the situation to cause possible friction by openly admitting that Julian had not been sent to Christophe. Instead, he’d opted for caution.
I knew there must be more to both Julian’s departure from here and his arrival at Whale’s Keep. The thought of him and Chloe in the same house was frightening.
* * * *
The following day, we left at first light. Christophe wanted to get an early start so that we�
��d arrive with enough light to make the crossing to his island before sunset. I’d had an uneasy night, wondering what this journey would bring.
But I was packed and ready when his men were ready to leave. They loaded my trunk into a wagon. My mother kissed my face and she sent a box of medicinal supplies to help with Chloe’s delivery.
Erik led out a gentle mare with a sidesaddle and as he leaned down to entwine his hands, he said quietly, “Write to me tomorrow. Tell me what’s happening with Chloe.”
“I will,” I promised, but I wasn’t sure I would. I’d need to judge that for myself when I arrived.
Stepping one foot into his entwined hands, I took hold of the saddle and pulled myself up onto the mare’s back.
Christophe rode a tall, black horse and I guided my mare up beside his mount. It seemed odd to be leaving my home on a journey with Christophe, and yet I was anxious to reach Whale’s Keep and see my sister.
“Good-bye,” I called to my father. “I’ll be back once the child comes.”
He nodded, but I could see that he didn’t like any of this.
At Christophe’s side and accompanied by ten of his men, I rode out the gates and into the world, up the northern path. I had never been on such a journey before.
Christophe glanced down at me. “Have you ever ridden a horse all day?”
“No.”
“Whale’s Keep is a full day’s ride. I want to get there before dark, but if you need to stop, just tell me.”
Even now, he was kind, putting the needs of others before his own.
We traveled with the forest on one side and the ocean on the other. Though the air was cold, the day was fine. We stopped once for lunch, but I sensed the urgency in Christophe and I did not ask to stop again, even when my right hip grew sore from the sidesaddle.
We rarely spoke, but as the afternoon waned, I couldn’t help asking, “Besides low spirits, is Chloe all right?”
He didn’t look at me. “I was hoping you could tell me. You’ll see her soon.”
I didn’t press him further.
The afternoon wore on and then he pointed. “There is it, just ahead.”
Coming around a bend, I looked out over the ocean and nearly gasped. Perhaps a mile from the shore, an island rose up from the water. Though about five miles in length, the island was tall, with dark, rocky cliffs and no apparent shore.
“Don’t worry,” Christophe said. “We’ll land around the south side. You’ll see.”
Gray waves with whitecaps crashed into jagged stone cliffs. I could barely imagine Chloe living in such a place.
Up ahead, a boathouse with a large adjoining stable came into view. Around us, the light was fading as the sun dipped lower.
As we headed forward again, I had a better view up the shore and took in the sight of an enormous barracks and second stable built in a clearing in the trees behind the boathouse. There were no piers or docks, but I counted seven longboats on the shore. We headed directly for the boats.
“Sergeant Harper,” Christophe said to one of his men, “have Lady Nicole’s luggage loaded and then pick two men to help the two of us row.”
“Yes, sir.”
A flurry of activity began. Christophe dismounted and reached up to lift me down, holding me for a moment until I was steady on my feet. Then he joined several other men to help push a boat into the water.
After striding back to me, he carried me into the waves, settling me at the back of the boat.
All four men climbed in and set their oars.
The crossing itself was more unsettling and more frightening than I’d expected. But I felt safe with Christophe and I trusted him. As we rounded the south corner of the island, I saw a break in the cliffs and a rocky beach. There were men on the rocky beach and I could see a gatehouse.
As we neared the shore, Christophe dropped his ore and moved to the front of the boat. Two men ran into the water, grabbing the sides of our boat as soon as it was close enough, pulling hard. A moment later, Christophe and the other three men inside jumped out and helped pull the vessel up onto the rocky shore.
Finally, the boat stopped moving and then Christophe was beside me, helping me out.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re not done yet. We still need to make the climb.”
Though somewhat puzzled by what “climb” meant at this point, of course I understood that we were at the bottom of the cliffs and any dwellings would be higher. Darkness was falling, but looking ahead, I saw a raised portcullis.
“This way,” Christophe said, passing under the open portcullis and into the gatehouse tunnel. “I’ll have your trunk brought up.”
I followed him down the gatehouse tunnel and then under another open portcullis. Once out of the tunnel, I found myself looking up at a seemingly endless set of stone stairs. As we began to climb, I thought of Chloe and I imagined her arrival in this place. It was so very different from home. How had she felt? What had she thought?
Following Christophe, I went up and up, and just when my legs were nearly ready to give out, we reached the top and passed through another gatehouse and then we stepped out to the sight of a thriving village, perhaps the size of a town.
All around us, as far as I could see in the increasing darkness, spread roads lined by shops and dwellings. There were taverns and small barns. Numerous people still bustled about. Children and dogs hurried after adults. The ground sloped upward and looking to my right, I saw a great, four-towered keep at the top of the cliffs.
“Oh,” I said.
In the fading light, he stared at me. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful up here,” I answered. And it was.
“I knew you’d say that.” He started forward again.
I followed him up through the town. The back of the keep was built over the cliffs, but a low stone wall bordered the front with a break at the center point, and we passed through the break into a courtyard.
Hurrying through the courtyard, Christophe ushered me inside the enormous front doors into a square foyer. Passages led right, left, and straight ahead. Only upon entering the front doors of the keep did I realize how wet and cold I was. But as so often happened, Christophe had been quite aware.
“Roweena!” he called to a young serving woman down the left passage.
At the sight of him, her eyes widened and she trotted to him. “My lord?”
“This is Lady Nicole,” he said. “Please take her to a guest room with a fireplace and have a fire built. Her trunk will be up directly. Help her to change for dinner and then bring her to the great hall.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He looked down at me. “You’ll see Chloe at dinner.”
Though a part of me wanted to see her right away, I was grateful at the thought of a fire and dry clothing.
* * * *
A little over an hour later, I was shown to the great hall of Whale’s Keep, wearing a sensible gown of sky-blue wool. I had a feeling no one here would notice or care how I was dressed.
For my part, I just wanted to see Chloe.
When I walked through the archway, relief flooded through me at the sight of her standing near the great hearth, in a gown of amber silk, staring into the flames.
“Chloe.”
At the sound of my voice, she whirled. “Oh, Nicole. He said he would bring you.”
Quickly, I crossed the room to clasp her hands. Though she was heavy with child, everything else about her appeared fragile and thin, as if she hadn’t been eating. Her blue eyes were haunted.
“I had hoped you would come right away,” she said.
For some reason, these words brought guilt rising up inside me. It was now five full days since her letter had reached me.
“I’m sorry,” I answered. “Mother a
nd Father wouldn’t let me come. But I’m here now. How are you?”
Her smooth brow wrinkled slightly, as if she was puzzled by the question. “How am I? I am—”
“Ah, the Lady Nicole,” a voice said from behind. “We shall be blessed with even more beauty at dinner tonight.”
Turning, I saw Julian Belledini in the archway with Christophe standing just behind him. Julian flashed me his most charming smile. Handsome as always, he wore a brown silk tunic and his dark blond hair curled around his ears to the top of his collar.
What was he doing here?
Striding over, he took my hand and kissed it. It took all my self-control not to jerk my hand from his. Then he kissed Chloe’s hand. “My lady. I hope this evening finds you well.”
Her hand trembled and her eyes were frightened. She feared him? What was happening here?
From the archway, Christophe watched all this in silence. Looking over, I willed him to come in.
And he did.
But before he reached the hearth, movement in the archway caught my eye and three more people entered the hall: a woman and two children, a boy and a girl. The woman was tall and gaunt, perhaps thirty years old. She wore a high-necked black gown with a starched white collar. Her hair was pulled into a severe bun at the back of her neck.
The boy was about ten, with dark hair and gray eyes like Christophe. The little girl was perhaps eight. Her hair was brown like mine, but it was pulled back into a bun as tight as the woman’s.
“Oh, Mildreth, this is Lady Nicole,” Christophe said, “Nicole, this is my sister, Lady Mildreth, and her children, Jordan and Amanda.”
I thought it odd that he did not introduce Jordan and Amanda as his nephew and niece, but rather as Mildreth’s children, as if they had no connection to him. However, I did not think on this long as Mildreth’s cold gaze moved to me, assessing me up and down.
“Chloe’s sister?” she said. “Our numbers at dinner continue to grow.”
“Ah, but surely you have no complaints,” Julian said lightly. “You have new voices to entertain you.”
