The Circle Of A Promise

by Helen A Rosburg

  Servants scurried to obey.

  “Now speak to me, Jack. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Jack bowed his head briefly, then raised his eyes to his baroness. “My lord is Baldwin’s prisoner,” he began simply, the only way he knew how.

  Something seemed to break inside Mara’s breast, but she did not betray a flicker of emotion. “Go on, Jack. Tell me all of it. Spare me nothing.”

  Jack did as he was bid, leaving out no detail. Mara’s expression remained fixed until the small man had reached the conclusion of his grisly tale-Father Gregory’s perfidious murder. Her hands flew to her face. Her eyes shut against the threatened flood of tears. But she controlled herself instantly, dropped her hands, and straightened her shoulders.

  “In truth, Jack,”-Mara’s tone was subdued, but her voice even-“I am not surprised by what transpired. Stephen was forced to rise to Baldwin’s bait. It was, I have to admit, a brilliant stroke on the earl’s part.” She smiled without joy or mirth. “If I had ridden with Stephen, and the earl had asked for me in exchange for the father, Stephen never would have done it. He would have attacked, retreated, parlayed, anything-even knowing it might lead to the father’s death. But he never, never would have given me up for Gregory.” Mara took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and turned from the men.

  “He, himself, however,” she continued softly, “is another story. His own life for another’s. That would be acceptable.”

  The food arrived, and Mara was grateful. Tears she could no longer deny scalded her eyelids, and she did not wish her husband’s knights to see. She paced the room until she had her emotions under control once more.

  She had to be calm, to think straight. The knights awaited her word, her order, the command that would set them into action.

  But what action would it be? What course should she take?

  Baldwin had grabbed Stephen, knowing full well she would come after her husband. He had even sent her word, as Jack had reluctantly related, to meet him in the glade.

  As he had done with Stephen. So they might meet and talk.

  Talk.

  Mara rested her chin on her chest and pressed her fingers to her eyes. What was there to talk about? Of course she would trade her life for her husband’s, as Baldwin had known she would. As he had planned so cleverly.

  Or would he do as he had done with Father Gregory and kill Stephen anyway? How was she to know, and what was she to do?

  “Lady, excuse me, please. But if I might speak. ?”

  Mara turned her weary gaze to Jack and nodded.

  “Why don’t you let me try to sneak into the chapel?” the little man asked quickly. “I’m good at that sort o` thing, you know. I could get in, find Stephen, and-”

  “No.” Mara shook her head adamantly. “No, I’m sorry. If you failed, it would just get you both killed. And it would take too long. We have to move now.”

  “A direct attack, m’lady?” Thomas asked hopefully.

  “As you yourselves told me, the earl said he would kill Stephen if we tried that, and I believe him. No, there is only one thing to do, I fear.”

  Walter’s lips tightened into a thin white line. “I can’t let you, my lady. The baron’s last words to Thomas and me were an order to protect you with our lives. To keep you safe from the earl.”

  “Then I am overriding that order,” Mara snapped. She gazed levelly at the older knight. “Just as my husband felt he had no choice but to do what he could to try and save Father Gregory, I feel I have no choice but to try and save my husband. I must at least face the earl and see what he has to say.” “But, lady, we all know-”

  “Yes, we do all know the depths of Baldwin’s treacherous soul. Yet I’ll not hear another word against it, Walter. I’ll meet with Baldwin. And you will be waiting at the edge of the forest, as close as Baldwin will allow. You will be waiting. And you will watch for an opening, the slightest opportunity to put an arrow in the man. Failing that, watch for my signal. But above all, obey me. Is that understood?”

  Walter nodded reluctantly. Thomas and Jack exchanged glances but remained silent. “Good. We are agreed. And we will ride at once.” Mara turned to a knight standing in a corner and formerly unnoticed by the other three men. “Thank you for coming so swiftly,” she said to him now. “I apologize for not acknowledging you earlier. But I needed to know what had happened to my husband. Jack, Walter, Thomas-this is Harold, head of the Earl of Northumberland’s forces that he has sent to aid us. You and your men are a most welcome addition to our strength,” she told the other knight. “If nothing else, perhaps it will make Baldwin think twice about the course of action he chooses.”

  The man briefly inclined his head in acknowledgment. Not only to make plain his consent, but to conceal the sudden and unaccustomed emotion manifesting in his eyes. Never had he met a more noble, courageous, or magnificent woman. He had thought at first he could not possibly follow a female. But he would follow this one into hell, if that was where she led him.

  At Mara’s instruction, a female servant appeared and assisted her mistress into one of the baron’s hauberks, a mail shirt with a skirt to the knees, and a mail hood. She fastened her sword belt unaided and sheathed both broad-and short-sword. At her nod, the knights fell in behind her as she strode from the hall.

  Hero awaited her in the courtyard, saddled with the trappings of war. As a groom held the horse’s head, Mara fitted her booted foot to his stirrup. Seeing his mistress overloaded in armor, Jack hurried to assist her to mount. She thanked him tersely. Trey looked up at his mistress and whined.

  “Don’t worry, old friend. I wouldn’t go anywhere without you.”

  Without another word, merely a glance at the similarly armed and mounted knights, she kicked Hero into a lope and passed beneath the castle gate. She did not look back once, only forward, as if her gaze might pierce the distance and spy her love. Whose life now lay in the palm of Baldwin’s hand.

  The fair breeze of morning had blown away the last of the clinging mist. The sun rose above the treetops, but the glade remained cool. In an hour or two the air would truly warm. Stephen could not help but wonder if he would be alive to see this day’s noontime sun.

  In spite of the cooling breeze, a trickle of sweat ran into Stephen’s left eye and he tried to blink it away. Failing that, he tried to shake his head, but he was too tightly bound. Baldwin had even ordered a stake erected to tie him to. He couldn’t move a muscle.

  Yet he could speak. And when Mara arrived, as he knew she would, in spite of his most fervent prayers and final orders to Walter, he was going to beg her to leave him. It was the one and only way to foil Baldwin’s diabolically clever scheme. He saw it all now, understood how it could not fail. Unless Mara refused to bargain. But would she?

  No matter how hard Stephen tried to believe Mara would not play into Baldwin’s hands, he knew he was fooling himself. She would sacrifice herself for him in an instant, just as he would for her. Then his only hope would be to win her back in battle-if she survived.

  He had witnessed the appalling depths of the earl’s blood lust and cruelty, however, and the thought of Mara in Baldwin’s hands frightened him to the very marrow of his bones. No, he could not count on getting Mara back alive should Baldwin take her. He was not even sure he would survive the day.

  Stephen closed his eyes against the next trickle of moisture that coursed from his sweating brow, but he opened them again almost immediately. Like an animal sensing danger, he was able to feel the aura of evil that preceded the loathsome earl.

  “Hello,” Baldwin purred. He chucked his prisoner under the chin and laughed when Stephen tried unsuccessfully to pull away. “Feeling a bit testy, are we? Well, don’t worry. I don’t think you’ll have too much longer to wait. I’m fairly certain your bride will absolutely fly to your side. Aren’t you?”

  Stephen’s cold, dark gaze bored into the earl, and in spite of the fact the bound man was totally helpless, Baldwin experienced a prickle of
uneasiness. He moved to Stephen’s side where the disconcerting stare could not follow.

  “I certainly hope your anticipation is as keen as mine,” the earl continued, feeling safer. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing the lovely Amarantha. She is a prize, isn’t she? One well worth waiting for. Scheming for. And this is a brilliant scheme, isn’t it. Baron?”

  Baldwin giggled, and Stephen winced.

  “Well, I shall leave you for now. Give you time to dwell on your thoughts. Most pleasant thoughts, I am assured.” He strolled a few steps away, then returned his attention to his prisoner. “I’ll be back shortly. I really don’t think your bride will be too much longer.”

  Baldwin left then, crossing the dusty yard, anxious to get into the shade of the buildings. He glanced around him at the quiet and empty fields, and wondered idly how the monks were faring. Still mumbling prayers for their dear, departed Father Gregory, no doubt, under the watchful eyes of a few of his men-at-arms. The remainder of his knights were deployed throughout the surrounding forest, keeping watch on the baron’s men, making sure no one made a false or foolish move. Mara would certainly arrive with a force of her own, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He didn’t plan on engaging in combat anyway. His forces had been diminished more than he liked, first by the attack on Ranulf’s castle, then in the attack against the king’s men. No, he wanted only revenge. And soon it would be sweetly, sweetly his.

  As Baldwin moved into the cool, dim interior of the wooden hall, Maggie’s huddled figure caught his attention. He experienced a surge of annoyance. “What are you all bundled up for?” he inquired irritably.

  Maggie did not reply, but pulled the cloak a little tighter about her thin shoulders.

  “What’s wrong, I asked you?”

  “No-nothin`, m’lord,” she answered. But there was a great deal wrong. Since she had watched her master and lover cut the monk’s throat, she could not seem to get warm. She was barely able to repress a shudder when he walked over to her and tilted her face up to his.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting squeamish on me.”

  Maggie forced herself to hold the earl’s gaze and gave him a smile.

  “There, that’s better,” he said, suddenly jovial again. “Come with me, why don’t you? We’ll take a little stroll. Keep an eye out for the baroness. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know how jealous you’ve been of the lady, but you have nothing to worry about anymore. Really. I think you’re actually going to enjoy what I have planned for your rival.”

  It was true, Maggie thought She had hated Mara once. Or thought she had. Certainly she had envied the lady, and feared losing the earl to her.

  But now she felt only pity for the baroness, as she followed Baldwin out into the bright sunlight. Pity. And cold, dark, bottomless fear.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Stephen drew himself from the trance by sheer force of will. His face was awash in tears. The front of his shirt was damp. He licked his lips and tasted salt.

  Amarantha. How ironic. Her name meant “immortal.” Yet the only thing that was immortal was their love. And the agony of her loss. Mara was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. That, too, was ironic. A dry, humorless chuckle erupted from his throat.

  As the baron, he had been ready to sacrifice his life for Mara. She would willingly the for him. They would each sacrifice anything for the other. He still felt that way. Even now, in an instant, he would the for her. Even now, he would sacrifice his own life to save her. If only there was a way. If only.

  Stephen buried his face in his hands. He had tried to pierce the veil, but he couldn’t. He was unable to return to the past with his knowledge of the present. There was no way he could warn Baron Stephen of what was going to happen to his wife. There was no way to save her, no way to put himself in the way of the arrow that would kill her, because he did not, and would never, know. If only.

  He had had so much hope in the beginning. Another irony. He had thought reliving the past would help him. He would find out what had been hanging him up, resolve it, and move on with his life. Instead, it was going to completely, totally destroy him once and for all. Mara was going to die again, and his soul was going to die with her.

  If only he could have died in her place. If only there was something, anything he could do-someone to ask.

  Stephen froze, almost afraid to move, the hope was so fragile.

  Millie might know. He had wanted to call her before but had stopped himself because his number might be traced. And he had still had hope then, hope that he might be able to get through to the baron he had been.

  There was no hope now. Mara was going to die. What difference did it make if they found him and put him away? If they strapped him to a bed and pumped him full of drugs, at least he would be out of his agony. So go ahead and let them trace his number and come and get him. But he had to ask Millie first. If there was any chance at all she might know something, at least he had to ask.

  Millie Thurman clutched the phone receiver so tightly her knuckles were white. Her first impulse was to ask Steve where he was, but she had his number on her call monitor and the police would be able to find his location quickly enough. She also didn’t want to put him off, scare him away, and have him hang up on her. She felt guilty enough as it was, responsible almost, for his condition. If she had realized how fragile his mental health really was, she never would have agreed to regress him. She spoke to him carefully now, softly.

  “How are you, Steve?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I am,” he replied bluntly. “I need your help. Please, Millie.”

  “How can I help you, Stephen?”

  He had so little time. He knew he had to hurry, and in his anxiety the words tangled together in his brain. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he swiftly ordered his thoughts. “You know a great deal about this. this reincarnation business,” he began finally.

  “I’ve. studied in depth. Yes,” Millie replied cautiously.

  “Have you ever. Have you ever heard of anyone, well, changing the past?”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Steve.”

  Stephen sighed in frustration. “Someone who goes back-you know, regresses. Have you ever heard that anyone was able to go back and. and maybe change what happened in that life?”

  She wasn’t sure where he was going with his question. He hadn’t stayed with her long enough for her to know what was going on with him. But she was sure of her answer. “Absolutely not The past is the past. We are only able to relive it. We are not able to revise it.”

  “You’re certain there couldn’t be the slightest chance.”

  She was about to reply that she was, indeed, certain. But Millie was an unfailingly honest person. She had not read everything. She did not know everything. “Let me put it this way, Stephen,” she answered at length. “I’ve not ever heard of such a thing happening. I would be very, very surprised if I did.”

  “But you’re not ruling it out I mean, it’s not totally impossible.”

  “I stand on what I said, Stephen. Perhaps if you gave me more information-”

  “Like Mandy explained to me once,” he said impatiently. “Sometimes someone dies by accident in a lifetime. Before it’s actually their time, I mean. Would it be possible, somehow, to go back and change something like that? Is there some way to take present knowledge back to the past and somehow change things?”

  Millie found herself shaking her head even before she replied. “I don’t see how. I just don’t see how. I’ve never heard of anyone regressing and reporting knowledge of the present during the regression. So, no. It wouldn’t be possible to change things that way. If that’s what you mean.”

  Yes, it was what he meant. But it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Not even if someone wanted to save someone they loved-loved so much they’d die for them? Couldn’t they go back and sacrifice themselves, maybe? Or even give up their life in the present so
mehow?”

  “You’re not. you’re not talking about suicide, are you, Stephen? Suicide is never an answer. You know that, don’t you? Stephen? Hello?”

  No, he wasn’t thinking about suicide. Had never thought about it. But he didn’t answer Millie. He simply hung up.

  It wouldn’t be long now. Especially since Millie thought he might take his life. Exhausted and beyond caring, Stephen stretched out on the bed.

  He didn’t want to go back. Didn’t want to go through it again. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it. He could only delay it while he whispered a short prayer. Take me, God. Please take me instead and spare Mara’s life. I know it wasn’t her time. It should have been me. I know it should have been me. I broke my promise to her. I didn’t keep her safe. I would have died to keep her safe. I’d give anything. Stephen’s lips moved faintly along to the words of his silent prayer. I would have died for her then. I would die for her now.

  It was the only thing left he could say or do.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Somewhere off in the treetops two jays scolded, perhaps each other. A squirrel scurried along a branch while dusty sunlight filtered lazily downward through the leafy canopy. It was all so normal. So peaceful. How could her world have gone so terribly, frighteningly awry?

  Baldwin. His sickness infected them all. The poison within him spewed forth and burned all it touched.

  She would kill him if she could.

  Only the servants had been left behind at Bellingham Castle. Thomas and Walter sat astride their chargers side by side behind Mara. Jack was off to her left, his horse’s head even with her stirrup. She turned her attention from the open glade before her, to her husband’s servant.

  “This is where you stood with him only a little while ago, isn’t it?” she asked softly. When Jack nodded, she said, “I’m sorry.”