Badge of Honor - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 10)

by Shea,Lisa

  Jack drew in a calm breath as the elegant noble turned from Catherine to stare at him with renewed interest. Catherine was safe. His men surrounded the green in a ring, and would ensure Raymond did not escape, whatever the results of this battle. She would have her justice.

  He balanced his sword in his hand, eyeing his opponent. Raymond looked to be in excellent shape, and he moved across the green with the smooth agility of a cat. His sword was of high quality construction, and from Catherine’s tales he was a superb swordsman. Jack circled him warily.

  Raymond pursed his lips as he ran his eyes down Jack’s form. “You are not any of the Bowyer; we seem to have accounted for all of them. Surely dear Catherine would not pledge herself to a random outsider. Yet, you seem familiar ...”

  Jack’s voice was smooth and clear. “I am the foster son to Lord Epworth. My name is Jack; you know me as Southerner.” He continued to circle, firming the grip on his sword.

  Raymond’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Ah, so Catherine saw through that little deception, did she? Yes, that was quite an amusing game to play with her. I saw no harm in humoring her mother’s petty plans for a while.” His eyes narrowed. “Still, surely you seem more familiar than that scruffy ...”

  Suddenly Raymond’s mouth dropped open in shock. When he spoke again, his voice was slower, and had lost some of its cock-sure banter. “You are a Tanner. You are a Tanner, just like the villagers here,” he gasped softly, shaking his head in amazement. “I was positive Carl and Craig killed all who had left here, had ensured we had every one corralled within these borders.”

  Fury washed over Jack. “You were responsible for my parents’ deaths?” he called out in ringing challenge, his voice icy steel. “You are behind the other abominations wreaked by those two men?”

  Raymond recovered his poise quickly, and laughed with mirth. “While they were excellent killers for hire, those two did have their little side hobbies, did they not? I admit they proved themselves to be incompetent kidnappers. I suppose your troublesome fiancée told you all about how they captured her, but became distracted with her … ah, charms … and she was able to escape her bonds and make it home again. I was amused when it spawned her intense interest in learning to sword-fight.”

  His eyes scanned up and down Jack’s body. “As far as taking out the Tanners, why yes, I always did appreciate a bit of theatricality. I tell you quite freely that the man who killed your ma and pa is about to take you down as well. Although why I always have to clean up after that lecherous pair is beyond me.” He grinned over at Jack. “Well, then, come on, lad. Avenge your family.”

  Jack nearly gave in to the surge of anger which filled every corner of his being. With supreme effort he remained still, maintained his guard. He knew Raymond was taunting him, drawing him in to make a mistake. The man could not succeed.

  Jack’s voice rang out with icy calm. “This will be for everyone you have harmed, in all of our families,” he vowed. His men formed a loose ring around the green, and in a moment Peter moved up the stairs to stand over Catherine, taking the side opposite Lord Xavier. She was still on her knees, her eyes desperately focused on the scene. She held her hand to her chest, the dark brown ring pressed to her heart, and he could tangibly feel the wave of love and support she sent to him.

  Jack took in a deep breath, then let it out, rolling his shoulders. He nodded at her, giving her a half smile. Then his eyes returned to Raymond. He brought his blade in a high guard, waiting.

  Raymond suddenly flew into action, drawing his sword down and in, aiming to end the fight with a quick decapitation. Jack’s deflection was instant, sending the blade skimming over his head. Raymond twisted the blade instantly, sending it back toward Jack’s waist. Jack slammed his own blade down on top of Raymond’s, driving both points into the dirt. The two men leapt back, resetting their guards, preparing for the next strike.

  Raymond moved again, and Jack knew exactly where the blow would land, exactly what the next turn would be. He realized suddenly why Raymond’s style seemed so intimately familiar. It was the same as Catherine’s; it held the same imprint of training that Jack had learned and studied over these past few weeks in sparring and training with Catherine.

  He smiled, pressing his advantage. He allowed his left thigh to momentarily be unguarded, and sure enough, Raymond’s sword arced high first, then twisted and drove down. Jack deflected the blow with ease, spinning his blade tip to rip open a gash in Raymond’s calf.

  Raymond’s eyes widened with surprise, glancing down for a moment at the wound. When Jack deflected another round of attacks, and then the next as well, a sudden realization came to his face, and he let out a low oath.

  Raymond spared a glance for Catherine, his voice guttural and harsh. “God’s teeth, you harpy, will you never cease to cause trouble for me?” Then with a yell he turned and flung himself at Jack with the fury of a battering thunderstorm.

  The battle was a whirlwind, and both men were soon riddled with wounds and cuts. The swords slammed into each other, a fist pounded into a shoulder, a whirling blade nearly took off an ear.

  Then Jack spun sideways, throwing the full weight of his body behind his shoulder, driving into Raymond’s torso. There was a scream of panic from the church; Raymond saw the opening and swung his sword high in triumph, drawing it down to cleave Jack at the shoulder.

  Jack twisted, ducked, and barely avoided the whistling blade. At the same time, his own sword came up from below, driving hard up through Raymond’s chest.

  Raymond threw his arms out, teetering, his eyes wide with shock, and then keeled over backwards. His body slammed into the ground. He lay there motionless, his life’s blood pouring out of him.

  Jack’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at the fallen figure. A stampeding of feet came at him fast, and he turned hard at the sound, his dagger in hand, his chest breathing in long draws.

  Catherine skidded to a stop before him, her hair a wild tangle, her eyes on his.

  In an instant he was dropping the dagger, drawing her into his arms, kissing her with a passion which nearly overwhelmed him.

  He wrapped his hands into her long, thick hair, holding her body against his, soothing her shaking. A low murmuring came up from her, half lost against his chest.

  “You are safe ... you are safe ...”

  It was several long moments before she pulled back from him, gazing up in weary relief.

  He ran his eyes over her injuries. “Are you seriously hurt?” A bandage had been tied around her upper arm, and there were various stains and scrapes on other parts of her arms and legs as well.

  Catherine smiled fondly up at Jack. “I will heal,” she vowed, her hands never leaving his. “We are together, and that is all that matters.”

  She turned to look down at Raymond. His eyes were dimming with every passing moment. She dropped to one knee at his side, bringing her face down to be near his pale visage.

  “Raymond,” she pleaded softly. “Do not let your legacy be one of madness and genocide. Help me to understand. Why did you wipe out my home town?”

  Raymond laughed softly, and bloody foam bubbled up on his lips. “I am far from insane,” he rasped hoarsely. “The council called me crazy; they scoffed at my plans. They said they would rather die than work alongside the slave shipments I had ordered from the Holy Lands. Well, look at who is laughing now!”

  His face twisted in a paroxysm of coughing and choking. Then his breathing drew shallow. In another moment he was unmoving, dead.

  Catherine knelt there for a long minute, seeming to search for a sign of familiarity, of family, in the glassy stare. Finally she reached forward to close his eyes, and stood wearily.

  Lord Xavier stepped forward, looking between Catherine and Jack. “My dear, I realize this is difficult, but there may still be wolves’ heads around. We need to get these people to safety.”

  Nodding in agreement, Jack turned from Catherine and retrieved his dagger and sword. The men
in their group gathered in to hear the plans. There were over fifty men in the group now including the archers who had come down from the overlooking woods. Jack quickly scanned the surrounding area, but there were no bandits in sight. All had apparently either been killed or had fled.

  Jack returned his gaze to meet Lord Xavier’s. “Are the villagers still in the church?”

  Xavier walked toward the stone building, and Jack and Catherine fell in step beside him. Xavier’s voice was tired but steady. “The priest feels that they do have everyone who is alive in the building; a few people were killed by fire or by the bandits.” They reached the heavy church doors, and Xavier pounded three times on them. “It is all right,” he called in. “This is Xavier. The danger is over.”

  There was a muffled cheer from inside, then the sound of heavy furniture scraping on a wooden floor. In a few moments the doors swung open, and grateful villagers poured at them, giving thanks and praise. A graying priest stepped forward to shake Xavier’s hand with a grateful smile. “I do not know how we can repay your efforts,” he shakily thanked him. “We would have been lost.”

  Xavier placed his own hand over the frail one of the priest’s. “I am still not sure that the force which laid siege to your town was not either bait to draw us in or a trap to which the others drove us,” he pointed out. “It may be because of us that this tragedy occurred. We will determine that shortly.” He turned slightly to indicate Jack. “Father Jeffrey, may I introduce ...”

  He paused, surprised to see that Jack and Father Jeffrey had locked eyes and were looking on each other with wonder. It was the priest who spoke first. “You ... you are Jack, are you not? Son of Robin and Sarah?”

  Jack nodded mutely staring at the priest in wonder.

  “My boy, you are my nephew,” continued the priest warmly. “Your parents left here because ... but that is a long story. I am so glad that you survived ...” A tear trickled down his cheek.

  Jack stepped forward to give the man a gentle hug, holding him for a moment.

  Jack looked down to his uncle’s eyes. “You can tell me everything when we get to safety,” he promised quietly. “Right now your peoples’ welfare needs to be our top priority.”

  “In a moment,” responded the priest, moving back toward the altar. “First, there is something that I would have given you long ago, if I had known you were alive.”

  He knelt behind the altar moving his hands against the stonework. In a moment he stood with a wrapped bundle. “We will wait until we get back to Kempston; that is the nearest point of safety. There will be plenty of time for explanations then.”

  Jack nodded in agreement. In a moment the villagers were all in motion, streaming onto the green. The soldiers had brought down the horses, and in short order they gathered up a few of the local horses who had fled from the fire. By double-loading many of the animals and retrieving a few carts they were able to get the entire group mobile and moving in the direction of the castle.

  It was a tense trek for the next few hours, rolling slowly through dark forest. The soldiers kept a vigilant watch over the villagers, listening carefully for any noise besides the creaking of the wagon wheels and soft tread of the horse hooves. Catherine and Jack rode side by side at the front of the group, never far from each other, taking quiet comfort in each others’ presence.

  It was with great relief that they saw the castle ahead of them and made their way up to its gates. The guards on the wall bustled around like agitated bees on the walls as the large group approached, and the voice which shouted down at them was tense with concern.

  “Who goes there?”

  Father Jeffrey stepped forward, his brow creased with confusion. “It is Father Jeffrey, of the Tanners,” he called out. “Surely you got the news that we were under attack?”

  “Attack?” cried the guard in surprise. “We heard no such alert. We would have come out to help! Is there still trouble?” He waved down below, and the main doors were swung open with a drawn out creak.

  “The danger is past for now,” Father Jeffrey reassured. “We have all of the townsfolk here, and solely seek refuge for a day or two until we can figure out how things stand.”

  Soldiers trotted out to help guide in the wagons, and in only minutes Lord Sutton, wrapped in a thick bearskin cloak, strode down to greet his friends. He gave a hearty embrace to Lord Xavier, then a more tender one to Catherine. His handshake to Jack and Peter was firm and welcoming.

  “There will be enough time for discussion tomorrow,” he instructed in a hearty voice. “Right now you are safe. These walls have not been breached in decades.” Around him the castle had sprung to life, with pages guiding all of the villagers and fighters to places to sleep.

  Lord Sutton nodded in approval at the bustle in the courtyard, then turned back to the smaller group before him. “Come, please follow me to your sleeping quarters.”

  Jack supported Catherine as they wearily followed Lord Sutton up to a series of adjoining rooms on the top floor of his keep. Each had a freshly stoked fire blazing in its hearth, and a plate of food set on a table. Jack and Catherine gave their fond good nights to Peter and Lord Xavier, then Jack guided Catherine into her room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  He turned to face Catherine, and she came into his arms instantly, drawing close against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, gratitude swelling through his soul.

  She was safe.

  It was long minutes before he could release her, could help her over to the table. She fell at the roast chicken and steamed turnips as if she had not eaten in weeks, and he smiled in appreciation before making short work of his own meal.

  Then her eyes were closing, and he half-carried her the short distance to the bed. She tumbled on it without removing her clothing, raising a hand to draw him down against her. He went willingly, laying an arm protectively across her. Deep calm filled him as her breath eased into the quiet rhythm of sleep.

  At last – at long last – his world seemed absolutely right.

  Chapter 24

  Catherine wondered if she was in a dream. Afternoon sunbeams stretched across the large bed, pleasantly warming her through the green tapestry covers. Fragrant breezes danced through open windows, tickling the delicate curtains at the bed’s corners into drifting motion. At her side, Jack was breathing easily in a deep sleep, his features serene. They were both fully clothed, the dust of the road incongruous with the freshness of their surroundings.

  Catherine hated to disturb his sleep, but she could not help herself. She tenderly kissed Jack on his cheek. His eyes opened instantly, relaxing into a smile as they focused on her own. He brought up his arms to tenderly wrap them around her, to draw her down against him in a full embrace.

  A few hours later, the sky tingeing to ebony and the breeze turning chill, they climbed out of bed and sat on its edge. Jack carefully tended to her wounds, replacing the field dressings with care. Then they drew on the fresh clothes which had been laid out for them. Jack had been provided black tunic and leggings with silver embroidery at the hems. Catherine wore a long, burgundy dress with a white chemise, and she draped her black cloak over her shoulders for extra warmth as Jack shuttered the windows.

  Peter was waiting for them as they entered the main hall. “Catherine, how are you feeling?” he asked with tender care, giving her a gentle hug. “Are my salves helping?”

  “Yes, as always,” she agreed, returning his embrace. “I think the solid night’s rest was the best medicine of all, though. It seems like an eternity since I have slept that well.”

  “I am sure that Jack had something to do with that,” chuckled Peter, putting out his hand and shaking Jack’s in welcome. “I am glad to see you both up and about.”

  Jack glanced around the torch-lit room. “What is the current status?” Catherine and Jack followed Peter as he led them toward the head table. The dining area was laid out with numerous wooden round table, but only a few people huddled around the main table at on
e end.

  Peter nodded his head toward the main archway. “The villagers and soldiers are out in the courtyard, holding an enthusiastic celebration of survival,” he explained with a smile. “They are amply stocked with ale and food, and last I heard there was dancing. Only a few of us have remained inside, to plan out the next step.”

  Lord Xavier and Lord Sutton nodded in greeting as the trio approached. Father Jeffrey came out from behind the table, his eyes misting, looking over Jack from head to toe. He then put out his arms, embracing Jack with hearty warmth.

  “My nephew, I had not dreamed you were still alive,” murmured Father Jeffrey after a long minute. “When I heard of your parents’ deaths, I thought all hope was lost. It is a solace to me that you live on for them, to carry on their name.” He motioned with his hand. “Here, come sit beside me while we talk.”

  The six found seats along the head table, with Peter and Catherine taking either end. Servants hurried in with meat pies and mead, and in between bites Catherine and Jack poured out the entire story from the beginning.

  Lord Sutton nodded as the two recounted their tales, his sharp eyes calculating the details. When they were done, he spoke in a musing tone.

  “At this point we have accounted for every member of the Bowyer clan, including Raymond. It seems clear that Raymond was involved in the assault. But why? His deathbed comment about slaves is cryptic at best. What could they use slaves for? The Bowyer lands were running quite efficiently. Why would this have turned into such a point of contention between Raymond and his council?”

  Catherine nodded slowly, drawing her cloak close around her. “I agree with you completely, Lord Sutton. And even if he were fighting with the council, why rain death on everyone in town – and even those beyond its walls?”

  She shook her head. “Also, what of the two mercenaries who left before the assault began? Why would they leave, if they were known to the attackers? Why not remain and cause further damage from within? It is hard even now for me to think about what happened - but it makes it worse for its senselessness. If at least there had been a reason, a motive, it might be reconciled. There seems to be none at all. The wide-flung deaths were not for power or glory.”