Heart of Stone

by Quinn, Paula

  Throwing down his bow, he picked up a sword from the many brought out from the tower and strewn along the floor and ran toward the north wall. He looked up at the tower and at the archers firing from the embrasures. He motioned them to aim north then spotted Rauf across the walkway. He called out, “Did you find the women?”

  Rauf shook his head.

  Sadly, Nicholas thought, the women would have to wait. He prayed they were unharmed. “The north wall is about to be breached!”

  Without another word, Rauf raced to it, shouting orders to the men as he went. Nicholas reached the wall first and hacked at a man who’d climbed up a long ladder and was about to climb over the wall. The man received a sword through the neck instead. The man behind him on the ladder looked shocked and then terrified when Nicholas leaned over the crenelated wall and saw him. He didn’t have time to lift his sword arm before Nicholas swiped his blade across the man’s throat. Blood splashed onto the three men below him before his body fell.

  “Come on!” Nicholas shouted at them while blood dripped off his blade. “Come up!” He swung but he couldn’t reach, so he pulled back and ran for the nearest archer. After taking the soldier’s bow and arrow, he ran back to the ladder. Some courageous fool from the other side leaped over the wall and landed on Nicholas’ battlement wall.

  Almost instantly, Nicholas nocked his arrow and let it fly. The victorious man fell over the wall backward with an arrow in his chest.

  Nicholas was upon the next man an instant later. The rest were just out of reach. Nicholas wanted to leap over the wall and fight them, kill them all.

  From the corner of his eye he saw another ladder go up a few feet away from him. He straightened and shouted for Rauf. Where the hell was he? There was no time to find him. He nocked another arrow and fired it at the first soldier climbing the second ladder.

  He held both positions, keeping his enemies away—until he saw Molly below—outside the castle walls in the clutches of a hooded man, who was holding his hand up to Nicholas.

  “We are here for the Earl of Lancaster. Bring him out or I begin killing everyone we caught—starting with her.” He took a dagger from his belt and held the edge of the blade to her throat.

  No! Nicholas held out his hand as if to reach for her, though she was too far away.

  He swore to himself that by the end of this, he would kill this man. What the man was asking him to do was to turn his back on peace for the life of a servant. What if Lancaster was the only way to rid Scotland of Edward? Nicholas didn’t truly believe that and Lancaster had chosen the path of fighting his own countrymen. Molly had not. Her life was just as important. He liked Molly. He didn’t like Lancaster. And besides, he’d promised Julianna that he would bring her friends back to her.

  He was about to call out to the man that he would see it done, when someone on his side of the wall fired an arrow at the man holding Molly. He missed, and the man’s hand swiped across Molly’s throat.

  Nicholas felt sick. His eyes had to be deceiving him. Molly could not be falling to the ground. Dead or dying at the hands of this bastard! Nicholas dropped his sword as his enemy ran to pluck another prisoner from the small crowd of villagers he had taken captive.

  Nicholas lifted his bow…nocked an arrow…let it fly. It did not miss but struck the soldier in the lower back. He went down, and an instant later so did Nicholas.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nicholas opened his eyes then squeezed them shut again at the blinding light in his eyes. He was moving…or being moved. He was bound and lying on a cart. Every time the cart went over a pebble in the road, Nicholas almost lost consciousness again from the pain. What had happened? Was he dead? No. He felt his heart beating. Faint, as if it were far away. He groaned loudly when he tried to sit up and found it impossible, for his ropes were tight. Shoved under his bound arms was a bloody plaid. Agonizing pain radiated from his ribs and coursed down his leg and up his left side. A few ribs were likely broken. He’d also been shot in the left shoulder and he was almost certain his arse had been beaten. The cold was likely the only thing keeping him alive, numbing the pain. He was a prisoner. Of whom? He remembered one of them demanding the Earl of Lancaster or he would kill…Molly. They killed Molly.

  Julianna! He thought as his memory returned. He left her inside the castle with Elias! He never thought they would breach. He was no soldier, no commander like his brothers, but he was an excellent swordsman and archer. The more he remembered, the harder he struggled to be free. He’d taken her only weapon.

  He wanted to scream and shout and go berserk like the Northmen of old, break free and go get her and his son and kill anyone in his way.

  What about Rauf and Margaret, and Walter—everyone else from Lismoor.

  His heart ached.

  “This one is not dead!” a man called out somewhere to his left.

  A few moments later another man rode up behind the cart and came close on horseback. “We have the earl and we have the bishop.”

  Nicholas tried to remember to breathe. He kept his eyes closed, not caring if the man knew he was awake or not. Was the soldier going to say they had Julianna and his son?

  “Tell the king that Lancaster was making deals with you,” the man said and came around to the side of the cart to look at Nicholas, “and I might let you live.”

  “And who are you?” Nicholas asked him, opening his eyes.

  The man smiled but there was nothing friendly about it. Nicholas narrowed his gaze. Where had he seen…no! He tried frantically to be free, but to no avail.

  “I am the Defier of Death—”

  “Phillip,” Nicholas stared at him, both horrified and stunned. Did he know Julianna was at Lismoor? Had he seen her? Did he have her? Nicholas’ heart drummed hard in his chest making him feel ill.

  The man’s gaze hardened on him, no doubt wondering from where he knew Nicholas’ face. “Aye,” he said, “Phillip DeAvoy, Governor of Alnwick.” He stared for another moment and then his smile faded into disgust. “William. Well, I will be damned. You are William Stone, are you not?”

  “You said it,” Nicholas replied with no trace of emotion is his voice, though his eyes blazed like all-consuming fires.

  Phillip laughed and the sound brought back memories of how Phillip used to torment and harass him. Nicholas couldn’t hit him back then. There was nothing holding him back now—save that he could not move.

  No! No, Phillip could not be alive!

  “First,” he said, “you will tell me how a peasant became the Earl of Rothbury.”

  “Where is the bishop?” Nicholas demanded. As much as he liked the bishop, it was Julianna and his son he wanted to know about. But if DeAvoy hadn’t seen her and he did not know she was at Lismoor, Nicholas didn’t want to clue him in.

  “Second, you will tell me where I can find Julianna Feathers.”

  Nicholas tried not to react to hearing Julianna’s name coming from his mouth. There was nothing he could do.

  DeAvoy moved closer and bent to the cart. His smile was more like a snarl when he cast it on Nicholas. At least he didn’t have her. “You remember her, do you not, Stone? I know she ran to you. She could never wait to get back to you when we were young. She tried to kill me. Did you know that? She buried me alive! I woke up eating and breathing dirt! I clawed my way out of that hell and vowed that she would pay. So you will tell me where she is or I will personally kill the bishop when the king is done with him. But I promise you, I will find her.”

  Nicholas wanted to beat him almost to death, and then finish what Julianna had begun with a shovel. “The last time I saw Julianna Feathers—”

  DeAvoy turned and shouted to someone behind the cart. “Go back to Lismoor. Look for a woman with fiery red hair and—”

  “She is there,” a man called out. “I met her almost a sennight ago. She was traveling alone to Lismoor. But she said her name was Julianna Fenly.”

  Nicholas struggled to move.

  DeAvoy watched him
and smiled. “Bring her to Alnwick. And Bamburgh…”

  “Aye?”

  “Do not touch her or she will try to kill you.”

  Bamburgh didn’t reply, but left on his horse.

  DeAvoy grinned and peered down at Nicholas. “I’m not going to kill you right away, servant. I’m going to have you ripped apart while she watches and then, in an act of supreme domination, I’m going to castrate you and piss on your balls.”

  With every bit of strength he had left, Nicholas pulled one arm free and snatched DeAvoy by the throat. Pain lanced through him in agonizing fire, but he held on and squeezed. For touching Julianna whether as a husband or a tyrant. For all the years he harassed Nicholas for no other reason than because he could.

  But his might was weak and he blacked out just before DeAvoy did.

  “Make him stop crying or I will kill him!”

  Julianna glared at the stranger as she stepped between him and Agnes holding Elias close to her. It had been close to an hour after Nicholas and Rauf had left them when the first stranger kicked her door in and burst inside the chamber. After seeing two women and a babe, he left them alone with a warning to stay where they were or he would be forced to kill them all. Lismoor had been taken, its guards killed or taken as prisoners to York, where England’s king awaited his men.

  “And Lord Rothbury?” Julianna had asked, trembling while she waited for his reply. Nicholas couldn’t be dead. She wanted to fall apart, fall to her knees, but Elias needed her, and so did Agnes, who burst into tears at the soldier’s words.

  “I do not know,” the English soldier had told her and left without telling her anything else.

  Now, she stared down a second brute who had been guarding the broken door while someone in charge was notified. “He is a babe!” she growled at him.

  “I do not care. I might just kill him because he disturbed me.” He grinned.

  She smiled back. “You come near and you will surely die.”

  He laughed, but there must have been something in her glare or in her voice that convinced him she spoke the truth, for he did not go near them.

  She comforted Elias and Agnes and prayed that God would keep the babe quiet.

  “Are you its mother?” the ogre asked.

  “It is a he. Have you already forgotten? Are you dimwitted?”

  He frowned and looked to be about to step forward.

  She pulled up the sleeve of her léine, exposing her wrist and the ring around it with three tiny fangs of tarantulas secured to it. The fangs were dipped in poison.

  “You insult me,” he said in a low warning tone.

  “You make it very easy.”

  From the corner of her eye, Julianna could see Agnes shaking. Poor Agnes. She certainly wasn’t going to like what came next.

  “Let us go and I will not lay you flat on your homely face.”

  He studied her for a moment and she imagined what he saw. A woman slight of frame, at least six inches shorter than him, making threats she appeared to believe herself capable of fulfilling. He laughed and came at her.

  She lifted her arm and the fang pricked him in his left hand that was reaching for her. He blinked and then he crumbled to the ground.

  “Help me get him behind the bed.” Julianna wasted no time and grabbed for him. “Agnes, stop weeping. Everything will be well. Now, help me!”

  Agnes set Elias down and helped Julianna pull the man behind the bed.

  Julianna returned to Elias, kissed his head, then stepped away into a corner and wept.

  She’d grown hard and strong in the last few years but Nicholas could possibly be dead. She had to find out. There was no one guarding the door but…she looked at Agnes and Elias. They had to flee. More men were coming. Lismoor had fallen. She closed her eyes. How many men were there? Her belly sank. Not again. She wanted to hide as she had the night the Scots had attacked her home. She wanted to hide from what she might see before this was over.

  But she had Elias and Agnes to think about. She wanted to take the babe but she couldn’t take the chance of pricking him with a fang. “Take the child, please, Agnes,” she said quickly, quietly, and with the authority of a noblewoman. “Elias,” she said once Agnes had lifted him, “do you want to see the horsies? Aye?” She smiled at him with tender emotion warming her gaze. “Remember I told you about the noisy dragon? You must stop crying so that we can hide and not be found. Do you understand?”

  He nodded and smiled back at her. “That is my boy.”

  She turned to Agnes. “Where should we go? You know the castle better than I.”

  Agnes shook her head then wiped her eyes. “We should get to the dungeon below. There is a way out from there.”

  To the dungeon then. “Let us be away!” She pulled her friend and then ran for the stairs.

  They turned a small bend and ran straight into a large man Julianna had never seen before. He wore breeches and a red coat, though it was not one of the military coats the English normally wore. This brute, along with his comrades, were the ones hired to rid the king of his enemies before they grew too big to stop.

  He looked surprised to see them there in the hall.

  Where was everyone else?

  He reached for them, grabbing at Agnes’ wrist. Elias cried out and Julianna sprang into action, poking the stranger in the neck with another fang on her bracelet. He toppled over like a lightning-blasted tree.

  “Oh, Julianna!” Agnes cried out, holding Elias in her arms.

  Julianna breathed. He was safe. It was all that mattered. “There now, love,” she cooed, wanting to hold him, but unable to.

  “What power is it that you possess?” Agnes pulled the babe back when he reached for her. “You touch them and they fall! Is it from God or the devil?”

  “’Tis a blend of different poisonous plants and oils coated on the fangs of my bracelet. They only sleep.” She motioned to the fallen man. “I do not know how to fight and I will not be touched, or allow anyone I care for be touched.”

  Agnes stared at her for a moment and then smiled. “Mayhap you will make me a poison bracelet.”

  “Aye,” Julianna agreed, “After we get out of here.” She pulled them onward until they reached the stairs. There was a way out. She had to take them to it and escape. She would worry about where they would go later.

  Following Agnes’ directions, Julianna led them to the dark dungeon below. With only a short candle to light their way, they came to a small, concealed door in the wall.

  Agnes set Elias down and pulled the door open, exposing a shadowless gaping hole.

  They needed to escape through that? With a child? Julianna’s blood went a little cold and her skin grew clammy. She wasn’t sure she could do it.

  Elias’ cries pulled her free of her doubts and fears. She spun around and almost leaped at the sight of the babe in the arms of a man.

  A man she knew.

  “Bamburgh,” she spat. “Put him down.”

  “Settle down, murderess,” the viscount snarled. “I am the only reason any of you are still living.”

  “Let us go.”

  “I cannot,” he told her. “I was sent back for you.”

  What? Sent back by who? Her heart began to pound. “Let this maid go with the boy,” she pleaded. “I will go—”

  “No!” Agnes cried out and took a step toward her and away from the door.

  Julianna turned her back and bent her head for a moment then returned her gaze to the flaxen-haired viscount. “Let him go.”

  He drew out a short burst of laughter. “You are in no position to negotiate, Miss Fenly. Or should I say Miss Feathers.” He reached for a knife tied to his belt and held it to Elias’ throat. Julianna and Agnes both moved forward.

  Julianna could only strike if there was a clear shot to hit only him and no one else. He remained far enough away that she couldn’t prick him with an innocent looking swipe of her hand. There was nothing more to do than hold up her hands in surrender. Agnes did the s
ame.

  “Please,” Julianna begged while Elias’ cries grew louder. “I will do whatever you ask.”

  “That is a dangerous promise to make, Miss Feathers,” he said, giving her a lingering looking over. He grimaced an instant later when Elias screeched in his ear. He closed his eyes and jammed his pinkie finger into his ear. “Here!” he screeched just as loud. “Take the little devil! I was not going to harm him!” He put away his knife and plunged the babe forward.

  Julianna stepped aside and forced back the need to hold and comfort Elias and let Agnes take him.

  With the babe safe—for now, she turned her attention to the viscount. “What does your grandmother think of you doing this?”

  “My grandmother would want any traitor to the king dead—just as I do.” He moved behind her and gave her a slight push toward the door. He stayed just out of her reach and let Agnes go ahead of him with Elias clutched to her breast.

  “Up,” he commanded.

  “Let them go.”

  He looked at Agnes then at Elias then finally nodded.

  “Go back to the tunnel!” Julianna said with enthusiasm. “Take him to the village. Or somewhere! Keep him safe, Agnes. Do you swear?”

  “Oh, Julianna,” Agnes cried, “I do not want to leave you!”

  “You must. For Elias’ sake, you must.”

  After a swift farewell, for the viscount had commanded Julianna to come, she turned away from the babe she loved and her friend, and climbed up the stairs.

  She stepped around her last victim and slanted her eyes to her side when the viscount hastened his steps to reach her.

  “What did you do to him?” he asked her. “He is a large enough fellow. How did you bring him down with no blood?”

  She didn’t answer. She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, or that there was another one in her room. Let him come closer and find out. “Where is Lord Rothbury?” she asked him instead.

  “I could tell you,” he answered, stopping and turning to face her fully, “after you answer my first question.