Relief flooded the woman’s face, an instant before her brows drew together. “Have I displeased you?”
“No,” he hurriedly assured her. “I know you are not a whore. I am a man of honor, and I will not make you one. Take this coin for your trouble.” She looked down in her hand, at the coins he laid there. She appeared ready to speak, until she looked up at him, and her mouth closed.
Without a word, she turned from him and she slipped from the room.
Marcus stood in the center of the small room, thinking about how empty his life had become. Everything centered on death and destruction. Life had no meaning, no purpose but to survive until the next battle. He wanted someone to lie next to him, someone he loved. Everything centered on Garrick, which led him back to what Garrick was keeping from him. That was no life. If he did get Alena to soften toward him, he had nothing but money to offer, because he gave everything else to Garrick. The thought disturbed him. It ran through his mind, Roland had become Garrick. The two men thought they had to be strong so they could conquer and be in command, because life had a way of spiraling out of control so fast it was frightening. Marcus slammed out of the room. He hastened his stride so he was quickly in the tavern sitting alone at a table with his second mug of ale in front of him.
Would life ever be within his grasp again? He had come so far from where he had been, from the person he once was. Of course Alena couldn’t think of a life with him. He didn’t even have a home to call his own. How stupid he had been. He should have killed Garrick that day in his camp. Let fate figure out the rest. Wasn’t it fate that had brought him and Garrick together? He didn’t know then what kind of king Garrick would owe his wealth to. He didn’t know the wealth and title would never be truly Garrick’s to hold. He would always have to earn it, again and again.
Damn Garrick, he though, slamming his mug loudly onto the table. Two men across the way looked up at him and nearly snarled, before turning back to their conversation. He threw the coin onto the table, and his empty mug was filled by the passing wench the two men kept eyeing.
Since meeting Garrick, Marcus never faltered in following him. Now, now he wanted out. He didn’t want to leave Garrick, he wanted him out too. He had the feeling Garrick was of the same mind, until the latest news. He had the feeling Garrick would never be out. Wouldn’t it be easy for Marcus to walk away? Would Alena go with him, or stay with Garrick? Would she go her own way?
He watched one of the men pull the woman into his lap. She laughed and halfheartedly tried to get up. Whatever the King was asking of Garrick was not a simple task. Was it another war, or did it have something to do with Lord Damien? They had been watching the man since serving under him in the Holy Land. King Richard made it clear he did not like him, and worst of all, did not trust him. Had the King decided to kill Damien and have Garrick do it? Marcus knew Garrick had fought against liking the man from the beginning. Would he do such a thing?
“Stop that,” the woman said playfully, as the man holding her pinched her.
Marcus rose from his chair. He was always by Garrick’s side, always. But after Garrick had this killing to do, he had more. He would always have more. The King would always have more, he was a king after all. He had the ultimate power to protect, and he needed a man such as Garrick to do it. Garrick was trapped, Marcus was trapped.
“Let her up,” Marcus said, standing over the table and the two men.
The man with the woman scoffed, the other stood on his feet, perhaps ready to defend the other. “I’m all right,” the woman assured him.
The only way Marcus could get out was to abandon his friend. Marcus would always have something. He was heir to various titles and wealth from his French mother. But Garrick had nothing but what the King allowed. He would be back in his dirt hovel, begging for every scrap of food. Not Garrick, his mind told him. Garrick would die before he went back. Marcus could not let him go back to such a life, not after all they had been through.
“Do you have a problem?” the beefy man still standing asked, as Marcus continued to stand at their table.
Trapped. Marcus grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and planted his knuckles into the man’s face before he could react. The seated man nearly dumped the woman onto the floor as he stood. Both men were big, gladiator type men, and Marcus did not have a chance. Before they were through with him he lay unconscious in the alley next to the tavern, his mind blissfully blank.
Chapter 18
It was Jill‘s birthday. Ryann awoke with the realization. All preparations had been completed, but Ryann dreaded the day, but knew she could not postpone the celebration despite the fact two small children lay just outside the walls, and she had watched them die. The fact they could not go out and retrieve their small bodies and bury them, haunted her more. They could only leave them to lay there and let the elements and wild creatures have them.
Sitting up Ryann felt as if her head would explode. It eventually settled to a dull ache, and she did not doubt it was the amount of wine from the night before. With any luck she would be able to consume enough to numb her again tonight. But that was all it did, she had a fleeting moment she thought if she could drink more, she could pass out as she had seen many knights do after consuming too much ale. She was exhausted and wanted sleep, however she could find it. Oh well, she thought, today was another day. Before leaving her chamber Ryan forced a smile upon her face, and descended to the hall.
The children were not told what was occurring outside the walls, so the celebration was truly that for them, and Ryann went along with it with the fake smile planted on her lips, and her head splitting each time the children’s voices grew loud. What was worse, she felt as if she would weep, for there were two whose laughter would never be heard again. What was going on at the village? Was everyone else dead? The tension inside her made her feel as if she was going mad.
The noon meal progressed throughout the afternoon of games Ryann had looked forward to playing with the children, when she first planned the celebration. She only half heartedly joined when the children prompted her to, but quickly found reasons to excuse herself from their merriment. After the evening meal, a massive cake was brought out, and excited cheers from the children erupted. By then her head had mercifully stopped its aching, but she still could find no enthusiasm within herself.
“Thank you for this day Lady Ryann,” Will said, as he sat down beside her, sliding a piece of cake beneath her, as he settled in to eat his own.
“It has been my pleasure. We will plan one for you when your day comes,” she said, feeling nauseated just looking at the concoction in front of her.
“I don’t need a big celebration, I just want my father with me. I think I understand now why he leaves us. I was watching Jill earlier and I saw my mother in her. It hurts, but I think I will cherish her all the more.”
“I am glad. We have nothing if we do not have family to care for and look after.”
“Lady Ryann,” Christopher said, approaching her cautiously. She felt the blood drain all the way to her feet.
“Excuse me young man, I must see to a task. Enjoy your cake, and you can have mine as well,” she said, in her most cheerful voice before rising and following Christopher from the hall.
Ryann’s apprehension grew as Christopher led her back to the parapets. Snow covered the bodies, shrouding them in white. Across the way the soldiers had gathered again, small fires were lit before them, and Ryann had to wonder what they were up to now. It was too far still to reach inside their walls, but obviously close enough to reach just outside. A group of children were approaching, and Ryann’s knees grew weak. She turned quickly to Christopher, a plea lodged in her throat, but he could do no more than she could.
An eternity passed as the children approached. As if they had all been trained well, they stopped just beneath the wall, the bodies of their friends they seemed to ignore.
“Lady Ryann, please help us,” the oldest, no more than nine said. There were 12 ch
ildren total, ranging from five to nine, and she wanted to tell them all to run, but that had done the last one no good.
“We can’t open our gates to them,” Ryann whispered to Christopher as if he did not know this.
“No my lady, we cannot.”
“Please my lady,” the boy said, and the fear was evident in his voice. “They will not tell us what they want. They do not speak like us.”
“I cannot.” Her fingers twisted in the folds of her clothes, raising her head she yelled, “I cannot!” to the waiting enemy.
As if they had been waiting on her cue, the men stepped forward bows in hand, arrows at the ready, and they set them ablaze.
“No,” Ryann whispered, her throat suddenly dry. “No,” she tried again, but it was of no use. “Run,” she tried to cry down to the children, but she knew it would do them no good.
“Run children,” Christopher commanded next to her. “Hurry!”
But the arrows rained down upon them. Each archer was true in his aim, no arrow wasted, as twelve fell from the sky and each struck a child. Some fell instantly, others did not, but the end result was the same. The arrows continued to burn, illuminating the still bodies as the shadows of evening began to lengthen.
Numbly she left Christopher and the other guards upon the wall, as she made her way down the steps, and into the courtyard. She was glad she had not lost her meal, but realized she had not had a meal since she lost the one the evening before. She paused upon the steps into the hall, staring up at the night sky, she sent a prayer up for the souls of the children, and for them all, because they did nothing to stop their deaths. There had to be a special place in the devil’s kingdom for them, for allowing such a thing to happen. She prayed for rain to put the arrows out, but the stars were clearly visible within the clear sky.
Drawing a deep breath she steadied herself and stepped into the hall. The merriment was dying down, and the children had grown quiet as the activities of the day wore them down.
“Play one more game with us Lady Ryann?” Jill asked, as she approached. Her face appeared tired, but her eyes glowed with the joy of her special day.
“I fear I am all played out,” Ryann replied.
“Of course my lady,” Jill said, but her face fell and ripped at Ryann’s heart.
“All right Jill. What is your request for the last game?”
The child’s face beamed up at her. “Hide-and-seek,” she said, clapping her little hands to contain her excitement. “You find us. But don’t worry,” Jill quickly added. “It will only be the three of us.”
“Then you had better hide,” Ryann said with a smile for the youngster, before turning her back.
Ryann had thought hunting down three children would not be such a challenge, but she soon found she had been wrong. She felt herself exhausted, her legs did not wish to carry her, but she forced them on for the children. She had long since found the first two, but Jill was still missing.
She froze as fear began to snake into her. What if somehow those outside their walls were able to get the children from the keep, and tomorrow they would send them to the walls to die?
She employed Christopher to help her in her search, no longer caring she cheated at the child’s game. Will also began to help in the search, but thankfully the fear she felt was not the boy’s. Perhaps if he knew what had been going on outside their walls, he would be just as frightened.
It was quite the strategy on their enemy’s part, draw everyone’s attention to the wall and the children, then sneak in somehow and steal more. She had to wonder what the overall purpose was for their actions. If they could get inside, why didn’t they just take the keep?
Stroud. It had to be Stroud, for she learned firsthand what a vicious man he was. His battle tactics were aimed at hurting the innocent, and that was exactly what was happening now. As she wound her way through the corridors searching, she couldn’t help the additional fear growing within her, since Garrick had not returned, something had to have happened to him. He came for her the last time Stroud hurt her, so why wasn’t he here now?
Each minute that ticked by added to her franticness. Her heart thundered in her chest, sweat poured from her brow, and a sick feeling settled itself in her stomach, and she felt she would indeed retch despite her long empty stomach.
If Stroud could get in and get a child out, he could get any of them out. Even her. Tears that flowed freely suddenly went dry with the debilitating fear that had her grabbing for the wall before she hit the floor. She braced her hands against the coolness, then eased her cheek against it, as she drew in great gulps of air. The edges of her vision began to grow black, but she forced the darkness back, forced control into her mind so she could continue to look for the missing child. She could not fall apart now, not when there was so much at stake, so much that could be lost.
It seemed as if the search continued for hours into the endless night, and with the tick of each passing minute she was sure the horrible fate of the other children would be Jill‘s. She truly thought she was going insane, her mind was filled with such horrible possibilities for the children of the keep, Garrick, and herself. Each dark corner she came to she fought the urge to curl up in the fetal position, and succumb to every emotion that flooded her in the hopes of purging them from her brain, but she could not allow herself to fall over that precipice, for she may never again make it back to the ledge where her sanity hung.
She was found. One of the servants found her and passed along the knee buckling news. With the rush of knowledge she had been within the keep the entire time, and the enemy had not penetrated their walls, relief washed over her so intense she had to grab the servants arm to keep herself erect. Quickly, she made her way to the hall and immediately spotted the child sitting by the hearth, a blanket wrapped about her shoulders, which told her she had likely been out in the cold air. Immediately the image came to her of the fourteen children lying outside the walls. A sob escaped Ryann as she rushed the final paces to the child, and grabbed her into her arms.
She clung to her tightly, rocking back and forth sobbing. Finally Christopher came to her, lay a hand on her shoulder. Thankfully the other children had sought their beds, and only a handful had been witness to her break down. She did not care really. The children within their walls were safe, she was safe, and surely that meant Garrick was safe.
She released Jill, adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and offered her a smile. “You scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry. I was more tired than I thought, and fell asleep waiting to be found.”
“It is understandable, you have had quite the day.”
“Thank you Lady Ryann.”
“You are welcome Jill, but it is over and done, and I think it is time for you to go to bed.”
In response Jill yawned, “I think so too. Can I sleep with you?”
“Not tonight,” Ryann replied quickly. If she managed any sleep she awoke violently from nightmares, and did not want to put the small child through such an experience. She knew tonight would be likely worse than the previous ones. “But another night.”
“But Lord Garrick might come back on the morrow.”
The mention of her husband sent a sharp stab through her core. “We will see won’t we? Now off to bed with you.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice calm, though she felt she was quaking inside. Just because the little girl had not been taken from within the walls, did not mean Garrick was unharmed. Nor did it mean any of them were safe. Garrick had left to find Stroud, and the man was here laying siege upon their walls, yet her husband did not come to their rescue. Any day now they could change their tactics and attack.
“I wish to speak to you,” Christopher said, cutting into Ryann’s thoughts. Jill had already left her, yet still she crouched before the chair she had vacated, lost within her own thoughts. Slowly she rose, the strain of the last few days making the effort a mighty one. Beside Christopher was John, captain of the guard, and Alena.
&nbs
p; “I think it is best if I and two of my men go outside the walls at dawn and talk with them. We cannot watch any more children die.”
Unspoken was the accusation she could not watch any more children die. Alena would not go upon the wall. But this was Ryann’s home, Garrick’s, she had a responsibility, but surely the visions were driving her insane. She could never purge those from her mind, and if she had to witness more, she would have no mind left. They all knew it. She gathered folds of her tunic in her hands and squeezed them in her palms, rubbing the fabric together, feeling the friction it created.
“Garrick said those gates will be opened for no one,” Ryann said bravely, but her heart railed at her.
“Garrick did not know this would come to wait outside our walls. We do not know what they want. When we do, we will give it to them, and they will leave.”
“They want us to suffer,” Alena said.
“They have to want something. If it is Lord Garrick, we can let them know they will not find him here, and they will leave,” Christopher insisted.
“They have no purpose other than seeing us suffer in here. Why else would they use the children?” Alena argued.
“To get our attention,” Christopher answered.
“They did that the first time,” Alena challenged.
Ryann’s head swam. Was this really her decision? No one was to open the gates. Wouldn’t it be a collective question? Shouldn’t they take a vote from all those who were at risk if they opened the gates, and the enemy over ran them, before getting them closed again? No, it was her decision, she could leave it to no one else. But she could not focus on the safest decision with those children in her head. Wouldn’t she be going against Garrick too? He couldn’t know this could possibly happen, but his order was still his order. Could they let more die? She could not. She could not watch them, but she could not stop going to the wall when they called her. She did not think it would stop what was happening. She had to release the fabric before she tore it, and smoothed her palms down across it.
Angie Arms - Flame Series 03 Page 23
