by Sherry Ewing
Riorden moved faster than he thought even possible with his head pounding as ’twas. “What the bloody hell!” he roared, finally taking in his surroundings. Damnation! He was not even in his own chamber.
She ignored his swearing and smiled prettily at him, much to his disgust. “Normally, I would say ’tis a glorious morn, but I am afraid ’tis well into the afternoon. You were magnificent as always, Riorden. I am surprised you let us sleep at all this past night. What a performance.”
“What the hell have you done?” he bellowed, rising from the bed in search of his clothes. Had she possibly drugged him, he thought furiously? How else would he be in her chamber, for he knew within him he would not have done so if he had his wits about him? Still wandering around the room in search of his clothing, he finally saw them neatly stacked by her own garments, as if they had all the time in the world to tend to such matters last eve.
She left the bed and went to a trunk, pulling out a robe. Donning it, she went to stand afore him. “What have I done? Surely you are mistaken, my lord. I have done nothing that you yourself did not ask for. I but was heading to my chamber, whence you came upon me and escorted me the rest of the way. I certainly was not going to deny myself the pleasure of your company, since you offered yourself to me.”
“’Tis hardly likely, Marguerite,” Riorden proclaimed, never believing he had erred in such a foul manner where she was concerned. He remembered absolutely nothing of the tale she told him. If Katherine were to find out, she would never forgive him. He halted his movements and thought on the nightmare he had been having. But was it truly a dream, or had it actually occurred? Riorden had the God awful feeling his wife knew all. How the hell was he going to explain this to her?
“Katherine...” his voice faded with the sorrow of knowing he had hurt her.
“She was not pleased to see us together, I am afraid.”
“You planned this,” Riorden accused, grabbing Marguerite by the arm and giving her a violent shake.
“How was I to know she would enter my chamber unannounced? We were sleeping after all! ’Twas obviously clear you climbed into my bed, Riorden, and not the other way around, so you must needs take responsibility for your own actions!”
“I have to find her,” he muttered, more to himself than to inform the evil bitch afore him of his intentions. He pulled on his boots then rose to leave.
“Riorden! Where are you going?”
“To find my wife!”
He left her sputtering all manner of vulgar profanities, and he stammered a few of his own beneath his breath, knowing he would have some difficult explaining to do once he found Katherine. He only prayed she would listen.
Chapter 21
Katherine’s eyelids began to flutter open as she attempted to figure out her whereabouts in the dark room she found herself in. A figure sat on a stool near the hearth that emitted a warm glow as he or she stirred something in a pot hanging over the flames. She tried to rise up but began coughing with the effort. Her actions brought attention to herself as the person quickly rose from the chair.
“Oh, good, you are awake.” The woman’s voice sounded soothing to her ears as she came closer. “But take care, dearie. You have had quite a time of it, I am afraid.”
Katherine noticed she was an older woman, perhaps in her fifties, if she were to guess. The woman had a kind face that Katherine was grateful for. Suddenly, Katherine remembered all she had been through and cried out in alarm, reaching for her stomach. Relief filled her as she felt the hardness still there, followed by the tiny, butterfly flutter deep inside her.
“He is still safe, my lady,” the woman answered Katherine’s unspoken question. “You are one lucky woman.”
“Where am I?” Katherine managed to rasp. Her throat was raw, and she could only begin to imagine the amount of water she had swallowed from her flight. Her head reeled from the torment filling her mind.
“You are on a small island, not far from Warkworth, my lady. But, have no fear,” she began, “not many know of this place, nor that those few come as a pilgrimage of sorts to pay their respects to those gone afore us.”
Katherine’s panic subsided as she lay back on the bedroll she had been resting on. Getting her bearings as her eyes adjusted to the low light, she saw she was in the Hermitage, just as in her dream. Her dream! Why, it wasn’t a dream at all...but a ghastly nightmare come true. The vivid scene of her husband’s betrayal filled her mind with agony.
“Oh, God, how could he do this to us?” she cried out as the woman rushed to her side, trying to offer her comfort, not that it did any good.
“Now, now, my dear. All will be well, especially when I get you home to have your loved ones see to you,” she said, gently patting her back.
“I can’t go back. Someone is trying to kill me,” Katherine confided to this total stranger, and her story came pouring forth. There was no doubt of her anguish as she revealed her fears to this woman, for she had nothing left to lose. Marguerite had won. Katherine had nothing left and certainly no love to give anyone with the exception of her unborn child.
“Tsk, tsk...” the woman muttered sympathetically as she went back to the hearth and spooned whatever had been cooking into a small wooden bowl. She brought it to Katherine and then returned with one of her own. The soup was soothing on her sore throat. They continued to eat in silence until they had finished.
With her meal gone, Katherine handed over the bowl when the woman held out her hands for it. She began tidying up what little there was to clean after their small meal, and Katherine felt she should be doing something to help the lady. The only problem was, she felt as if she had no energy in her whatsoever. Her mind and body behaved as if she had gone to hell and back. Perhaps that wasn’t too far off as an assessment.
The woman returned to her side to feel her forehead and began nodding to herself as if she answered her own unspoken question. “At least you do not have a fever. ’Tis a good sign.”
As the woman made to rise, Katherine stopped her by gently putting her hand on the woman’s arm. “What is your name, my lady?”
She looked up, as though surprised Katherine assumed she was of noble birth. It was not hard to tell, given the women’s mannerisms. Katherine continued to wait for an answer until the lady gazed up into Katherine’s eyes with a caring smile.
“You may call me, Ella.”
“My thanks, Lady Ella, for your kindness to me.”
“Just Ella, my dear. ’Tis enough for now.”
“As long as you call me Katherine,” she suggested.
Ella patted her hand, pulled up another blanket to keep her warm, and sat down, staring at Katherine before she at last spoke. “You must needs your rest, Katherine, to regain your strength. I will keep watch, but as I said, not many know of this place, nor the solitude it offers. ’Tis why I am here. If what you say is true, then we must be careful, my dear, to keep you safe from those who would do you harm. I shall keep the hearth cold during the day so no smoke will give our location, but we should be safe with a fire at night to keep us warm until we are ready to travel.”
“But, how will we leave if you said we are on an island, and more importantly, where will I go, Ella?” Katherine choked back her tears as her sadness overwhelmed her.
“As to how we will leave, I have a small boat hidden in the shrubbery, but as I said, you must rest for several days, at least ’til you are fit to travel. I am afraid I have no horse to hasten our journey, but I will do all I can to help you. Have you someone close to you nearby? Family perchance?”
“I would not be safe there, either and would not put my friend in danger,” Katherine began and put out her hand to her newfound friend, “nor would I wish anything to happen to you.”
“Bah! I am an old woman who has seen much of life. Who would bother me?”
Katherine shrugged. “You never know.”
“Well, be that as it may, we must get you somewhere. You must know someone who will protect you
.”
Suddenly, a vision of a castle sitting high on a hill with the strand beneath its rocky foundation came to mind. “Berwyck Castle! I can go there to hide, for I have friends who reside within its hall, if you could help me get there!”
Ella crossed herself repeatedly as her eyes widened in fear. “You are in league with the Devil’s Dragon?”
“There is nothing to worry about with Dristan of Berwyck, I promise you Ella. He can keep us both safe, and his lady is most gracious.”
“If you say so,” Ella replied, but she was clearly skeptical.
Katherine lay back down while Ella went back to sit near the fire and stare off into the flames. She became drowsy again, but at least when she finally fell asleep it was a dreamless one. For what was there now to look forward to when her knight had deserted her for another?
Chapter 22
Riorden was in a state of panic and knew not where next to turn. For nigh unto a se’nnight he had scouts searching for his wife, and yet still there was no word of her whereabouts. That Katherine had disappeared was all his fault, along with that evil wench Marguerite. He knew not what she did that he had ended up in her bed, but there was no doubt in his heart, he had not consciously done so of his own accord. Katherine meant all to him. He would not risk what they had found on a dalliance with his father’s widow.
He had refused to believe that anything untoward would have become of his beloved Katherine, and yet his faith had faltered momentarily when her riderless horse had been found far upstream from the grounds of Warkworth and its village. Still, he ordered the search to continue. He refused to believe what everyone was beginning to whisper...that his wife had drowned in the fast moving current and lay at the bottom of the river, or, worse yet, her body had washed out to sea, never to be found. If such was the case, he would never forgive himself.
He shivered at the thought crossing his mind and continued his vigil in the chapel. He had done this once afore when God had granted him his deepest heart’s desire by bringing Katherine back into the past so they could be together. How could he be so foolish as to allow any form of doubt enter her thoughts that he did not love her completely.
Arms outstretched, his body aching from the hours he had lain on the cold chapel floor, he continued his vigilant pose. For only in the form of complete submission did he feel that a higher being would hear his prayers offered on his wife’s behalf. He begged for the forgiveness of his sins and continued his penitence with a humble heart. He would not beg God with false lies to save himself from eternal hell, but he would do all in his power to do so for the souls of his wife and unborn child.
As his lips moved in a continual, silent prayer, he took slight notice of someone quietly entering the chapel. ’Twas not ’til he heard his brother’s voice that he raised his forehead from the floor.
“Come, Riorden. You have done enough this day, brother,” Gavin urged gently.
“Nay,” he gasped as he felt the horrendous pain in every inch of his body. “’Tis not enough, for she has not returned to me.”
Riorden felt the soothing, cool touch of Gavin’s lady as she laid her hand upon his cheek. His gaze faltered momentarily when he saw her red rimmed eyes. Her woeful expression caused his own eyes to mist up with grief-stricken emotion. “Yes, my lord, you have done enough praying for Katherine today,” Brianna whispered, even as her voice caught with her own misery. “Let’s get you into your solar and have some food sent up for you to eat.”
“I cannot eat, nor drink.”
Gavin pulled on his arm ’til he was at last sitting on the floor. He saw anger fill his brother’s eyes. “You can do nothing more for her, Riorden, and we will not lose you both! Now, get off the floor and come with us!”
They helped him rise with unstable legs, and if not for their support, he would have stumbled back onto the stones beneath his feet as the blood rushed to his legs. From the shadows cast upon the chapel walls, he had been here longer than he had thought. They began to make their way through the outer courtyard. He barely noticed John and his workers as they continued the duties of building the church his father had started. He walked as if he were in truth dead himself, and, in reality, he felt as if he had died inside. There was nothing to look forward to without Katherine at his side.
As if in a daze, he made his way through the tunnel and up the stairs to the keep. His only thought was of somehow managing to put one foot in front of the other so he could at last go to his chamber to be left in solitude, ’til he saw Caldwell passing through the portal in front of him. That the knight looked grief stricken did not faze Riorden, as his anger he had been holding in check at last erupted in a terrifying display of agony.
“I left her in your care!” he bellowed. “You were supposed to guard her and keep her safe in my absence!”
“My lord, I−” Caldwell began but got no further.
Riorden lunged for his knight’s throat.
Gavin held him back, but ’twas Brianna stepping in front of him, placing her hands on his chest, that halted his tirade. “It’s hardly Caldwell’s fault, Riorden, so don’t take this out on him. You won’t do Katie any good by falling to pieces, so get your head together and get inside so we can take care of you!”
He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Brianna was right. If there was anyone to blame for Katherine’s disappearance, ’twas him and certainly not one of his guards. He nodded to Caldwell, as if to excuse his outburst, and entered the vestibule, feeling lost. The Great Hall was mostly empty, and he waved off Mabel as she attempted to bring him something to eat. Nothing mattered to him any longer, for without Katherine in his life, he was just a meaningless shell of a man.
A high pitched wail filled the hall, and Marguerite came running down the stairs. Her frightened features only caused him further irritation. She hurled herself into his arms. Despite his efforts to disengage her, she held on tight. How dare she even begin to think he would want anything to do with her, knowing the part she played in Katherine’s disappearance?
“Please, Riorden, I must beg of you again! Take me away from here. I cannot stand him troubling my thoughts, day and night with his constant badgering.” Her tears began soaking his tunic, but he had nothing to offer her as he roughly pulled himself away from her clinging ways.
“Get thee from my sight and do not come near me again, Marguerite, or so help me God, I will end your miserable life for what you have cost me!” Riorden yelled.
“But, Riorden−” she pleaded.
He came to her with all the pent up frustration that had been building in him. His hands encircled her neck and he began to squeeze. “What part of I do not want you within my sight do you not comprehend, Marguerite? If you value your life, you will stay in your chamber ’til arrangements can be made to get you to Dunhaven Manor. I will not be responsible for my actions if you defy my orders,” he whispered harshly in her ear.
Pushing her away, he listened whilst she gasped and coughed for air. His gaze swept her in a silent show of contempt, and she quickly fled the hall to return from whence she came. Her shrieks continued to echo within the keep, grating on his already tense nerves, and he was not sure how much more he could take.
Apparently, he could take more than he thought as he pushed opened his chamber door. He had refused to enter their room ’til her return, but now felt a desperate need to be near something of hers. Closing the wooden door, he put the bolt in place, ensuring his privacy. He wanted no interruptions.
As he closed his eyes, he could almost feel her presence surround him as if she were taking him into her comforting embrace. It calmed him for an instant ’til his eyes flew open to ascertain she was not once more in her ghostly form. But there was no one in the room save himself, and he was thankful for the solitude. Walking to a nearby table, he lingered over her hairbrush and noticed the long strands of her tawny colored hair still captured in the bristles. Her boots still remained where he had last espied them, and he assumed she had fled
in a gown instead of hose and tunic. Had she even thought to bring a cloak afore she fled from him in her despair?
He went to a trunk they shared and lifted the lid. His answer was afore his misting eyes, as he saw her tan cloak with its furred hood neatly folded on top of her remaining garments. He could smell the floral scent she wore waft up to his nostrils and fill him with a sudden nostalgia he would not soon forget. He pondered how long such a smell, which would always remind him of the one woman he had truly loved with all his heart, would remain. Digging frantically down to the bottom of the trunk, he reached for the silken night rail he had kept when they shared their first night together at Berwyck.
Memories assaulted his senses whilst he remembered how he had torn the garment from her lush body, and how they had made love all eve long. How would he ever forget the look in her blue-green eyes as she came to him on their wedding day with all the love she felt for him shining in her eyes? Or how she gazed at him so sweetly when she presented him the poem she had scripted, just for him? Their brief memories together swept through his mind like a tempest upon the sea ’til he cried out in agony.
He clutched the torn fabric to his chest, as if willing Katherine back to his side, ’til he slumped to the floor in complete wretchedness for what Marguerite’s wickedness had cost him. Tears spilled from his grieving eyes, and, in the privacy of his own chamber, he shed them with no shame. The one person, who he held most dear, he had lost. She had fled from him when she had found him in the arms of another. How could he blame her when he himself would have done the same? She was gone, and he feared, never to return.
He lovingly folded the remains of the garment and put it back in place in the trunk, slamming the lid tightly shut. Going towards the wall, he inspected it with a practiced eye ’til he pulled out one of the larger stones. Reaching inside, he removed his father’s metal box and set it aside. He would not inspect the contents this day. He knew he would find gold, among other objects of worth, to see him through rough times if the estate was ever in need of extra monies. Only he and Gavin knew of the whereabouts of his father’s wealth, as he had shown both his sons the secret hiding places in their youth. The box inside this chamber was only one of many scattered within the stones of Warkworth. Reaching inside the hole in the wall once more, he took out a pouch of his own, strode to the bed, and let everything fall onto the coverings for him to see.
