Warriors Of Legend

by Kathryn Le Veque, Kathryn Loch, Dana D'Angelo

  “Blast you, Micah. Listen to me.” John stepped forward, clenching his fists. “You don’t know all I saw during your illness. If Kate tried to poison you why would she tell me exactly what she was doing? Why did she explain to me her reasons? She could have put enough Hemlock in your teas to stop you heart without my knowledge. If she truly wanted you dead, you would be.”

  “Kate knew if I died suspicion would point at her. She gave you reasons not to blame her.”

  “Damnation! Micah, I was with her when she held your head in her lap while you retched. I saw her change soiled bed linens that wreaked of poison. I helped her clean you up when you fouled yourself. She refused sleep for days simply to watch over you. And when she feared you would die, I saw her get on her knees and pray to God for your life, offering hers in place of it. Are those the actions of a woman who wants you dead?”

  Micah blinked at him and John felt a surge of satisfaction. Kate’s actions during his illness demonstrated the strongest evidence against the letter.

  His gaze dropped. “I don’t know, John,” he said softly. “I have failed her so terribly.”

  John frowned, suddenly feeling there was much more to this – something he needed desperately to see. “Wait a moment,” he muttered. “You sound as if you are playing the devil’s advocate here.”

  A brief spark returned to Micah’s bleak eyes but he covered it by looking away. “I am nothing if not thorough,” he said.

  John knew his best friend well and suddenly understood. This was not some hateful ploy, but Micah’s effort to silence the raging doubt within him – a doubt Micah’s uncle had caused when his sword pierced Micah’s body. Because Micah had lost his parents at a young age, he had clung to the only family he had left. He had believed that bond stronger than petty politics. Unfortunately, Amaury had not held the same ideals and in one instant destroyed Micah’s faith in those ideals as well.

  But John knew Kate possessed those ideals more powerfully than anyone. That was what Micah hoped for, that was what he needed to see proven.

  “Micah, Kate is not your uncle.”

  Micah’s face paled terribly. “If my uncle could justify my death at his own hand, Kate could certainly do the same. There is no true blood between us. She was forced into a marriage with me in order to maintain her home. Appleby should have been hers without complication. I understand her desire to remove that complication.”

  John shook his head. “To Kate you are not a complication, Micah, but the man she loves. And believe me, her love for you is greater than any blood bond.”

  “How can that be, John? She owes me no loyalty.”

  “That is exactly why it is stronger, Micah. She owes you nothing but gives it of her own free will.”

  Micah blinked at him. Abruptly he ducked his head, his face turning a slightly darker shade. “Aye, John, she has always given of herself even when I did not deserve it.”

  “Why did she do that?”

  “I do not know…her response to me is…baffling.”

  John felt his lips tug upward. “You are a stubborn man, Micah. You refuse to see the love she has freely given you. Granted this marriage was forced, but you and Kate possessed something greater. Why did you not send her to a convent when you had the choice?”

  “I could not bear to hurt her like that.”

  “You could not bear to betray her.”

  Micah’s head shot up.

  “Because of that, Kate has granted you the strongest gift, Micah. She has granted you her love. She saw the strength in you, even though you refuse to see it in yourself.”

  Micah turned away but John still saw the stubborn set to his jaw.

  “You are like a castle under siege,” he growled. “You refuse to see the truth even when it batters you in the teeth.”

  “If I make a mistake,” Micah said slowly. “There is much more at stake than the barony.”

  “Blast you, Micah,” John barked. “Do you believe me an idiot? Look at the facts. Look at Tobin. If Kate truly masterminded a plot against you, why would he speak so openly and purposefully endanger her?”

  “He is young and foolish.”

  “God’s bones, man, think! If you plotted with the baron’s wife, would you leave such a note amongst your things? If Kate carried on with the stable boy, would she have boldly scrawled her very title and name at the bottom of such damning evidence? It’s poor strategy, Micah, and Kate is wiser than that.”

  Micah thought for a long moment. “All right, perhaps we should talk to Tobin.”

  John nodded in satisfaction, praying they could find the truth quickly. Kate’s life depended on it and so did Micah’s heart.

  They descended into the dungeon. One of the two guards on duty accompanied them with the keys. Micah walked silently, his jaw tight and his expression grim.

  The guard opened the door to Tobin’s cell. “On your feet, sod, your baron would speak to you.”

  Tobin scrambled to his feet, backing into the corner, as John and Micah entered.

  Micah clenched his fists, his mouth pressed into a hard line. “I have been more than patient with you. Explain yourself or I will order the truth beaten from you.”

  Tobin hunched his shoulders but said nothing.

  Micah snarled incoherently and John quickly stepped forward. “Tobin, where did you get the letter?”

  “What letter?”

  “I suffer no fools,” Micah snapped. “You know which letter.”

  Tobin glared up at Micah. “From the baroness.”

  “You lie,” John said.

  “It matters not,” Tobin replied with a shrug. “There is a curse upon Appleby. You will die Baron Montfort.”

  Micah stepped forward and backhanded the boy. Tobin slammed into the corner and slid to a floor, staring up at Micah in rage. “That is the same thing Sarah told me,” Micah said. “I thought you said you hated her.”

  “I do hate her!”

  “Why?” John asked. “Because she turned her favor towards William?”

  “Because she turned it toward the huntsman.”

  John hesitated in surprise, remembering the MacLeary huntsman who tried to free Sarah. His eyes narrowed in understanding. “She took the arrow for him. You cared for her and she gave her life to save the huntsman. That’s why you hate her, she loved him, not you.”

  Tobin simply stared at him, his eyes murderous. His chest heaved as he fought to suck in his breath and sweat lined his face.

  “Who paid you to kill me?” Micah asked.

  “I cannot tell you.”

  Micah raised his hand again. Tobin shot to his feet and John tensed ready to tackle him. The boy remained in the corner, fighting even harder to catch his breath.

  “Who paid you? Tell me and I will let you live. Lie to me and I will have you drawn and quartered.”

  Tobin’s eyes widened in horror.

  Micah lowered his voice. “Think about it Tobin. It is difficult to spend gold when you are dead. Is it worth it? Is your life worth a few gold pieces which you won’t be able to enjoy?”

  Tobin tried to press himself deeper into the corner. His eyes glazed with terror and he uselessly gasped for breath, his hands clutched at his stomach.

  John frowned. If Micah terrified Tobin so much, the boy should be begging them to listen to his answers. John abruptly decided to change his tactics. “Tobin,” he said, his voice soft and coaxing. “Why do you insist on being so loyal to Sarah after she rejected you? Why not tell us the truth?”

  Tobin’s pants for breath increased and John clearly saw the dread in his eyes. “Because of Sarah, I made a terrible mistake. I am not loyal to her, but to another. It is not by choice now.” He swallowed hard. “‘Tis the huntsman’s curse.”

  “Damnation,” Micah roared. “You have more to fear from me than from a foolish superstition. I will get the truth from you if I have to invent new tortures.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tobin wheezed. “I am already dead.”


  Micah seized the lad by the tunic. “Did my wife pay you to kill me?”

  Tobin’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body jerked unnaturally. Abruptly, he collapsed and Micah released him, leaping backwards. “God’s bones.” The fit twisted his limbs and a bloody froth formed on his lips. Finally, he fell still.

  John summoned his courage and felt for a pulse. “Dead.”

  Micah ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” John whispered. “You only grabbed his tunic. He has no injuries…nothing. Could he have been poisoned?”

  “Get Marjorie,” Micah snapped to the guard. “Perhaps she can make some sense of this.”

  The guard scurried away.

  John began to wonder if there was indeed a curse on Appleby. He remembered clearly the merchant’s terror of the huntsman’s curse when they questioned him about Kate’s abduction. Adam Miller dropped dead in the street…no reason I ken. John’s skin crawled as he stared at Tobin’s body.

  Marjorie entered the cell a few minutes later. She glared at Micah, her face an unforgiving mask of hatred. “Aye, my lord?”

  “The boy just fell over dead,” Micah replied tightly. “Can you determine the cause?”

  Marjorie looked at the body, a frown creasing her wrinkled brow. She crouched next to Tobin, opening his mouth and looking inside, then checking his eyes, ears, and nose. Marjorie ripped open Tobin’s tunic, looking at his chest, and then examined his arms and his fingers. “Aye,” she said. “Poison.”

  “But how?” Micah asked. “No one has come near him since we locked him in the dungeon.”

  She looked around the room, her gaze falling on the bucket in a corner. Marjorie stood and examined the contents. “This should look familiar, Baron.”

  He looked in the bucket, his face turning white. “He retched some of it, just like me.”

  “Remember how long it took for the Savin Oil to work on you. It is entirely possible he took it before he attacked you.”

  Micah’s eyes widened. “Suicide?”

  “It seems that way.”

  He shook his head. “How can this huntsman hold such sway over these people?”

  Marjorie sighed. “It is not that difficult, Baron. Many villagers even fear me because of my herb–lore. Even you called me a witch once or twice.”

  Micah frowned and turned on his heel. “Burn the body,” he said to a guard. He strode out of the cell and John followed him, trying to make sense of Marjorie’s words. “Where are you going, Micah?”

  They entered the kitchens and Micah walked to the locked cabinet where Kate kept her herb bag. He opened the cabinet and pulled it out, gazing at the contents. “Just like I thought,” he muttered and put it away, locking the cabinet again. He quickly left the kitchens, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “Micah?” John asked, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to release Kate and beg her forgiveness.”

  John’s heart lurched. “What made you change your mind?”

  “The poison was Savin Oil. Sarah used all of it trying to kill me. Kate didn’t have any more.”

  John’s eyes widened in understanding.

  “So, where did Tobin get the poison?” Micah asked.

  “The huntsman,” John said.

  “Aye,” he replied, hurrying to Kate’s door. “I still cannot explain the letter but I know she did not give Tobin the poison. The huntsman is my enemy, not Kate.”

  John stopped, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. Silently, he turned away and went back to the great hall.

  ***

  The morning dawned gray and cold. Kate curled in her bed trying to fight off the numbing fog which threatened to descend. But despair battered her and made her struggle much harder. It would be easier to give up, to allow the fog to take away the agony of Micah’s hatred, to cloud her fear of imprisonment – locked away in her room. Kate could allow the fog to claim her and she would never feel anything again.

  But something within her refused to die. She loved Micah. How could he believe she would do something so terrible? Yet through the horror of his doubt, and the awful reality of the letter, Kate had seen something deep within his indigo eyes.

  The torment of betrayal by a loved one.

  Micah may not have realized he loved her, but Kate knew. There was something within him, a tiny seed he had buried so deeply, it was a miracle it remained. Against all odds it had started to sprout. Kate knew now the seed was why their relationship had changed, why Micah was not infuriated with her breeding. But this awful plot ripped the seed out of his heart like a foul weed. Was it too late to stop the destruction entirely?

  Would Micah ever recover from this?

  Kate needed to find the truth and she could not do that locked in her room. The lies cut Micah more deeply than his uncle’s sword. Sweet Mary, what should she do?

  She heard the keys in the lock and stared in surprise when Micah opened the door. His hair straggled about his face, and weariness reddened his eyes. Deep lines carved through his cheeks.

  Kate jumped out of bed and was shocked when Micah hauled her into his embrace, holding her tightly.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I should have never doubted you.”

  “What?” she asked, scarcely daring to hope.

  “I knew in my soul you did not betray me but the pain of my past jerked me along like a child’s puppet. I was too blind, too afraid, to understand my heart and the wonderful gift I had been given.”

  She blinked up at him stunned but relief washed over her. Her arms tightened around him. “Micah, I love you. I would never betray you.”

  “I know.” He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply, igniting a passion within her that pushed away the hurt. This scheme had almost destroyed Micah’s heart, but ultimately, he again proved a valiant warrior and battled through it. Kate resolved she would do the same.

  Slowly, she pulled away, looking up at him, and traced her fingers through his hair. “What happened? Did you find out who wrote the letter?”

  “Nay, but I discovered something else,” he replied and explained what happened with Tobin. “I still need to find the truth of this plot,” he said finally.

  She nodded. With her relief came exhaustion and she leaned heavily against him.

  “Come,” he whispered and lifted her into his arms. Micah carried her back to his room.

  ***

  Micah kissed Kate and hauled himself out of bed.

  “Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

  “I still have answers to find,” he said and pulled on his braes. He returned to her, tugging a lock of hair from her face. “You go ahead and rest. The past two days have not been easy.”

  She nodded, curling under the blankets.

  Micah picked up his tunic, his gaze stopping on the damning letter sitting on his desk. He hesitated, looking closer. A tendril of doubt flickered through him. Was he making thee right decision trusting Kate?

  He glanced in her direction. Their lovemaking had been as wonderful as before. Micah felt as if his heart had been put back together. And now he knew why. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how loudly his fear screamed, he could not deny the truth within himself any longer.

  A soft knock startled him and he quickly answered the door.

  John stood before him, his jaw tight. “Micah, you need to come downstairs. We have another problem.”

  He nodded, worry cutting through him. “Let me get dressed, I’ll be down in a moment.”

  Micah descended the stairs to see a young man, wearing a tattered tunic, fidgeting nervously. The man saw him and paled, dropping to one knee.

  “Baron, I bring urgent news from Borough. A band of raiders has attacked our grain stores, trying to burn them. My lord battled to protect the grain houses and sent me immediately but I fear the worst may have happened.”

  Micah stiffened. “Do you have any idea who t
hese raiders are?”

  “I do not know.”

  Micah looked at John. “MacLeary.”

  John nodded. “He knows the barony’s stores are low and with the winter being this cold we will need all of our supplies.”

  “Damnation,” Micah muttered raking his hand through his hair.

  “If it is MacLeary, those raiders will not stop at Borough, they will raze all of our stores.”

  “Aye,” Micah said tightly. “Gather the knights, I will take some of our men and hunt these raiders. I leave the keep under your guardianship.”

  John paled. “But Micah, taking our men will weaken the keep’s defenses. With the repairs incomplete—”

  “I know,” he snapped. “Yet we have no choice. The barony needs that food. I will not allow my people to starve this winter.” Micah turned on his heel. “William,” he bellowed. “Saddle my horse. Roger, bring me my armor. We ride within the hour.”

  ***

  Kate awoke to a cacophony coming from the bailey. Her heart lurched in fear and she quickly dressed, hurrying downstairs. She rushed outside in time to see Micah, dressed for battle, mount his destrier.

  “Micah, what’s going on?” she called, running toward him.

  Micah’s stallion snorted and sat back on his haunches, pawing the air. Kate skidded to a halt as Micah calmed the huge beast. “Easy,” he said patting the animal’s neck then looked at Kate. “It’s all right, you may approach now.”

  She eyed the horse nervously but moved to stand beside him. Micah extended his hand and she gripped his fingers tightly.

  “We have raiders destroying our food, Kate.”

  She swallowed hard, staring up at him. Against the gray skies, his blue eyes appeared as light as the clouds around them. “I don’t like this, Micah. With this plot against you and now the raiders…”

  “I know,” he said and released her hand. His fingers lightly caressed her cheek. “But I must do this. I am leaving John and Hubert to guard you.” He paused and for a brief instant Kate saw a war reflected in his eyes. “I am trusting you to find the truth of this betrayal, Kate. I cannot stop MacLeary if I do not know his plans.”

  Her heart lurched, perhaps he really did have faith in her. “You…want me to do this?”