A Sense of Duty - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 4)

by Shea,Lisa

  All eyes turned to look up at her, and then a roar of attack bellowed from the townsfolk and the Angelus alike. A wave of men poured over the guards as a rough sea crashing onto breakers. Gabriel dove for Barnard, but Barnard managed to slip behind Mark, who roared in delight as he found himself facing the Angelus leader.

  “I am the one who kidnapped Constance,” Mark sneered as he brought his sword down hard against Gabriel’s, circling him before jumping in again. “Her skin was as smooth as a babe’s, although I found she bruises easily when hit. I shall be sure to take good care of her once you are dead.”

  Gabriel growled, spinning his sword into a higher position, moving in with a sudden attack. Constance watched, her heart in her throat, as the men lunged and parried, twisted and blocked. Gabriel ducked under a blow, then stood suddenly and threw a solid punch with his left arm, catching Mark hard on the temple. Mark staggered back, and Gabriel closed with him in a heartbeat. He swung his sword down, hard, slashing diagonally across Mark’s chest.

  Mark threw his hands back, his mouth open in a silent scream. He seemed to timber backwards in slow motion, his sword flying from his hand. His body landed heavily in the dirt, sending up a cloud of debris. He did not move again.

  An arrow zinged past Constance’s head, and she dove flat on the ground, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She knew better than to make herself an easy target for Barnard’s archers! She realized she should find another hiding place, but now that the full assault was set in motion, she could not tear herself away. There would be little she could do to help or hinder the attack now. She could only pray that the Angelus forces would be victorious.

  She peered carefully over the edge of the wall. The grounds below were in chaos. The local guards had the advantage of knowing their home turf well, of knowing which alleys ran into dead ends, which windows could be wiggled through. Even so, the Angelus moved through their ranks with deadly efficiency. The townsfolk followed behind, wrestling survivors to the ground, tying them securely and throwing them into the stables for safe keeping.

  The bandits were already outnumbered, and Constance watched as more townsfolk arrived on horseback, coming to help as news spread of the battle. The new arrivals carried whatever they had at hand – an axe, a large knife, a pitchfork. Every additional man quickly joined in the search for hidden enemies, or in watching the bound bandits.

  The minutes passed, and Constance almost began to relax. The end was in sight. The sounds of conflict began to die out below her. With a relieved sigh, she stood and turned away from the wall. If the few remaining bandits were retreating into the keep to make a final stand, her current location might not remain safe. She could still be useful as a hostage to someone. She worked her way back to the door, running her mind over her options for a better hiding place.

  The door flung open as she reached it, and she stepped back in surprise. Barnard’s eyes blazed with delight as he grabbed hold of her arm, whipping her around to press up against him. The all too familiar dagger was quickly brought against her throat.

  His breath came heavily against her ear. “Just who I was looking for,” he rasped. “You will serve some use for me yet, my dear.”

  He dragged her back away from the door, and Constance moved with him in confusion. Why would he be going this way?

  The answer barreled up through the door only moments later. Gabriel looked around quickly, then froze as he saw Barnard holding Constance. He still wore his heavy leather riding gloves, his sword held firmly in his right hand.

  Barnard’s voice was tight. “You know the drill,” he insisted. “Sword. Down.”

  Constance’s heart stopped. “Gabriel, no,” she pleaded. Once Gabriel was disarmed, there was nothing to stop Barnard from killing him, from escaping justice. If anyone knew the ins and outs of this structure, with all its secret doors and passageways, it would be Barnard.

  Barnard was long past playing. He pulled his knife hard against Constance’s throat, creating a long, thin slice along her neck. “Go ahead, try me,” he warned Gabriel in a guttural voice. “I have already lost everything else. I would gladly gut her just to watch the misery on your face, to know you would have to live with that agony for the rest of your life.”

  Gabriel crouched down, his eyes not leaving Barnard’s, and he laid his sword down lengthwise before him. He rested a hand on its hilt for a long moment, then stood again. His body was tensed for action, watching for any opening.

  Barnard motioned to the left. “Over to the wall,” he ordered. Gabriel moved slowly, placing his feet carefully, keeping his attention focused on Barnard. At Barnard’s gesture he stepped the two feet up onto the lip.

  Barnard looked down at Constance. “Say goodbye to your hero,” he sneered. “Perhaps it is fitting that you see him off in that accursed dress of yours, with the matching pendant. It will remind you, every time you see it, that you were the cause of his death.”

  Constance watched in panic as Gabriel looked down beneath him, then to her surprise he carefully took several steps to the left along the wall. She glanced out to her left. She knew those woods by heart; they were the area her window overlooked. There was the trio of white birch where Gabriel had ridden out from. It meant that her window was right below them …

  Her eyes rose to meet Gabriel’s. He was pulling hard on the cuff of his gloves, settling them in against his fingers. His gaze was intent, serious.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. “I still keep a dagger under my pillow, just as you taught me,” she whispered.

  The edge of his mouth quirked up into a wry smile. “I am more concerned with how well you tie your knots,” he answered, his eyes holding hers.

  Constance nodded, swallowing hard. “I swear, they will not fail.”

  Barnard gave her arm a hard shake. “Enough!” He leered at Gabriel. “You jump, and I let her live. If she is lucky, I will be able to take her all the way to Bordeaux with me. She will be kept as a queen. She always desired a life of wealth or so I have been told. You think on that on your way down.”

  Gabriel locked his gaze on Constance. “I will come for you,” he murmured. “Trust in me.”

  Constance could not take it. She pressed forward against Barnard’s hold, even though it cut the knife more deeply against her. “Gabe … I love you,” she whispered, releasing the fullness of her passion, her pride, her adoration for the man before her. He was everything to her, and she let the knowledge shine from her very soul.

  He smiled then, a shimmering of peace washing over his features. He spared one final look down, took in a deep breath, and stepped off.

  Constance screamed, pressing against the sharp blade to run forward, to see …

  A shout roared up from below, from the crowd of townsfolk and mercenaries on the ground level. Hearing that, Barnard turned instantly, pulling Constance hard toward the stairs, moving quickly. “You behave, and you might just survive this,” he warned her as he kicked open the door with his foot. He pushed her brusquely down the stairs.

  Her mind spun as she stumbled down the flight. Had Gabriel survived the fall? Had he been able to grab onto her blanket ladder one story below? Had it snapped at his weight? What if …

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she brushed them away quickly. If he was hurt, maybe seriously, she needed all her wits about her.

  Barnard gave her a hard yank as they reached the bottom of the stairs, pulling her close in front of him, maintaining the knife at a tight angle against her throat. He moved carefully down the hall, past closed doors, past …

  Constance froze as they got to the blown open remains of her bedroom door. This is where Gabriel would come lunging out of the room. He would fly in a blaze of glory, his eyes sharp, his right hand wielding her dagger. He was her avenging angel. She took in a breath …

  Nothing. There was no movement, no swirl of revenge, nothing but the gently blowing breeze rustling the curtains at her window. Her eyes traveled down to the bedpost. Her face went col
d with shock, and she found herself staggering back against Barnard, all hope gone.

  The bedpost was bare. Her knot had failed. The blanket tied to the bed was completely missing.

  Barnard snarled at her weakness, pressed her onwards, forcing her forward down the hall. Constance no longer knew where he was taking her, or cared. She could see it clearly in her mind now. Gabriel had stepped off the roof putting his life into her hands. He had grabbed at her rope, had trusted her. He had held onto it, expecting it to save him.

  She had failed him. She had caused the one man she cared for most in this world to plummet to his death.

  Barnard pressed her down the main stairs into the great hall. Peripherally she saw a few of the Angelus mercenaries start in surprise, then pull back cautiously. As they moved their way across into the entry hall, out into the courtyard, the throng around them grew. Soon they were surrounded by a mob of Angelus and innkeepers, of soldiers from the town and common folk. All stood silently, cautiously keeping a distance, and it did not matter one bit to Constance. She would go where Barnard took her. When he was done, he would kill her. She did not care. Gabriel was gone … he was gone …

  Barnard pulled up to a sudden stop. Constance roused herself to look at the main gates. Three men stood framed in the large archway, with a row of soldiers lining the wall above them. Tristan stood in the center, with Ralph on the left and Charles on the right. All three men held swords at the ready.

  Tristan’s tone was rational and quiet. “We cannot let you take her, Barnard,” he stated in a low voice. “You need to leave Constance here if you wish to leave alive.”

  Barnard laughed. “You are joking, right? If I let her loose, you would eagerly tie my noose’s loop yourself. No, I am giving the orders here. I want a fresh horse outside the gates, saddled and ready for riding. I want all of you inside these walls. I will mount up and take this woman with me. When I am sure I am not being pursued – and not one moment earlier – I will release her.”

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “We cannot -”

  Barnard was long past negotiating. He drove his knife downwards, cutting a long, vertical slice along Constance’s chest. She cried out sharply at the pain, falling hard to one knee. She heard the cry of rage echo around her, and the group surged forward for a moment, only to pull back again as he reseated the blade at her neck, pulling her hard, raising her to her feet.

  Barnard’s voice was a growl. “Do not press me, Sheriff,” he warned. “I have very little to lose here. I can torture her all day.”

  Tristan waved with his hand, and two soldiers ran quickly for the stables. He, Ralph, and Charles moved carefully into the courtyard. Constance could see the tension in their shoulders, the sharp focus of their gaze. She almost shook her head to warn them not to bother. It was over. Barnard would take her out of here, and later he would kill her. They might catch up with him eventually, but it did not matter. Gabriel was dead.

  Still, the bandits had been found out. The Angelus were free. The townspeople were safe. It was almost all she had hoped to achieve. If her only role left in this world was to help ensure no more lives were lost before Barnard was finally brought to justice, she could do that much.

  She held her head high, her eyes glistening, and watched as the sturdy brown horse was led to a spot outside the archway of the main gates. The wooden doors were pressed wide, and all of the soldiers pulled back from the area. Only a few men remained at the top of the wall to watch over the proceedings.

  Tristan’s voice was tight. “There is your horse.”

  Barnard smiled at that, his arrogant stance returning. He looked around him with haughty pleasure, at the men ringing him. His gaze landed on Ralph and Charles, at the Angelus who flanked them.

  “If you thought it was to be me or Gabriel who was left standing this day, I wonder who you would have bet on,” he called out in a challenging voice to the men. “I will be riding free, I will have my woman securely in my grasp. Think on that when you wipe down your swords tonight. You go look on the broken body of your leader and know who is the true master.”

  He pushed Constance across the remaining length of the courtyard, moving toward the waiting horse, toward his freedom.

  Something came into Constance’s vision as they approached the archway. It was a loose piece of rope, dangling from the archway top, hanging almost down to her shoulders. She glanced at it idly for a moment, then her vision sharpened as they grew closer. No, this was no random piece of twine. It was the sheet she had tied from her bedroom. It was solid, whole, and as she looked more carefully, she saw that one of her handhold loops had been added to the end of it. Her heart beat more quickly …

  They were coming past it now. Barnard was laughing as he walked, scoffing at the men behind him, looking forward at the horse which would bring him to an easy escape. His knife hand moved back slightly …

  She was at the rope, and she dove for it with a sharp twist, lacing her wrist into the loop, grabbing at the rope with both hands. Barnard cried out in surprise, and suddenly she was being hauled upwards, drawn into the sky. A pair of sturdy arms enfolded her, the scent of bergamot and sweat and blood pulled her in. She was crying, laughing, wrapping her arms around Gabriel in a whirling rush of emotions. Below her she could hear the yells as the Angelus raced in at Barnard, driving him to the ground, forcing him into submission.

  Constance was torn between disbelief and joy. “You are alive!” she cried out. “Tell me this is not a dream!”

  Gabriel pulled her close, holding her against him in a powerful embrace. “This is real,” he vowed in her ear, not turning, not letting her go. “I will never leave you again. I swear it.”

  Chapter 28

  Constance stood staring out at the ocean, watching the waves draw in and recede, listening to the soft cries of the gulls as they soared far overhead. She pulled her cloak closer around her. There was only a gentle throb now from her injuries and bruises; the week of healing and rest had done her good. Still, she had been hounded by Audrey to take it easy. She knew she should go in to the keep behind her, return to her room, but she could not leave the beauty of the sea. It soothed her soul, it calmed her restless heart. She could stay here for hours.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, but she did not turn. In a moment a pair of strong arms gently wrapped around her, pulling her in close. She turned her head and nestled against Gabriel, closing her eyes. She found her throat closing up; she could not bring herself to speak.

  He let out a long breath. “It is done,” he murmured against her hair. “The messenger just came. Barnard has been executed for his crimes.”

  The final vestiges of tension drained from of her shoulders. It was over now. All ties to her past had been severed.

  She brushed the hair from her eyes. “The Beadnell lands?”

  Gabriel smiled. “Charles has agreed with your wish to turn them over to the nunnery,” he responded. “The region will be developed into a center of learning, just as you wished. The villagers have given their enthusiastic blessing.”

  “A new beacon of hope - guarded over by the Angelus,” added Constance, turning to look up at Gabriel with warm eyes.

  “If that is your desire,” he confirmed with a nod. “You are a free woman now, after all. You can make your own choices.”

  He looked away, out to the sea, his eyes distant. “This is your first chance to be on your own,” he mused quietly, his voice hoarse. “Many men have stopped by in the past days, wishing to congratulate you, to court you. Now that you are freely able to marry, I imagine you could have the pick of any noble around. You could take your time, enjoy your freedom.”

  Constance shook her head, gently taking his face in her hand, turning his eyes down to meet hers.

  “Is that what you think I want?” she murmured softly.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his voice half anguish.

  She smiled gently. “I want to say …” her voice dropped down into a soft whisper. “I love y
ou.” She leant forward to kiss his cheek, and he closed his eyes in surrender.

  “I love you.” She kissed his other cheek tenderly, and he brought his arms more tightly around her.

  “I love you,” she vowed with all her heart, and she brought her lips to a whisper’s length from his, holding there. He opened his eyes, let out a ragged sigh, and then he pulled her hard in against him, pulled her lips in against his. They were kissing, kissing, kissing, the ocean waves crashed down around them, the timeless reaches of the sea filled their senses as they gave themselves fully to each other.

  Chapter 29

  One month later

  Constance smiled in delight as Gabriel pushed open the door to the Bristol tavern and ushered her in. Their honeymoon tour of England had been absolutely delightful. And in every tavern they’d visited –

  “Gabriel!” cried out the innkeep, his round face beaming with delight. “I didn’t think to see you back so soon. And who is this with you?”

  Gabriel drew Constance close in at his side. His eyes shone with pride. “This is my wife, Constance.”

  The innkeep’s smile nearly split his face. “Is she, now? Well, this calls for a celebration!” He turned to the nearly packed room. “A round on the house! Gabriel’s gotten married!”

  Cheers rang out from all sides, and Gabriel pressed a fond kiss to Constance’s forehead.

  She could barely take it all in. The stories she’d heard, the reputation he’d created, it was staggering. And to think he was now here by her side. After all she’d endured, after all her pain and anguish, she’d finally reached the joy she had dreamt of.

  Life couldn’t be more perfect.

  They were guided to a table by the fire, pair of ales was placed before them, and Gabriel raised his in a toast. “To the most wonderful wife a man could ever hope for.”

  She clinked her mug against his. “And to the man I always dreamed would be by my side.”