David had sent the womenfolk inside when the battle started, including a hysterical Adalind. She wanted to stay and watch but David would not permit it. If Maddoc was to be killed, he didn’t want her to witness it. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to witness it. Even now, he could see the combatants over by the curtain wall, moving like the walking dead with lethargy and strength and, at times, carelessness. David thought about calling an end to it but he knew it would do no good; they would simply start up again, at some point, so it was best to let them fight it out until a victor emerged. David seriously wondered who it would be.
Maddoc was showing remarkable stamina in the course of the battle. He had never let up, not even when he drove Brighton close to the curtain wall and, in the course of the fighting, was nicked in the shoulder by Brighton’s blade when it ricocheted off the wall. The bouncing blade had caught Maddoc in the joint where the breastplate met the shoulder armor, and he had been cut although they did not know how badly. Blood was seeping but not pouring.
Brighton had fared slightly worse under Maddoc’s strength and skill. Maddoc had made sure to go for his head at all times and, at some point a few hours into the battle, managed to strike his helm so hard that it dented and torqued. This gave Brighton an inhibited field of vision as he fought because he could not pause to remove his helm. He had to keep fighting or be killed. But his diminished sight allowed Maddoc to cut him in the leg at one point, a deep gash to the back of his knee that had done some damage. Brighton was having trouble walking but he could not stop. His life depended on it.
So the morning began to dawn in shades of gray as David stood and watched the knights slugging it out over by the well. As he stood there, exhausted and grim, he felt a soft body beside him and a warm cup of wine appeared.
“So they are still fighting.” Emilie handed her husband the mulled wine, which he took gratefully. “Will they ever tire?”
David sipped at the beverage. “Not until one of them is dead,” he said. “I was standing here thinking that it was not so long ago that the ap Athoe brothers were battling it out in much the same fashion and Maddoc thought they were both idiots. He said they were an embarrassment to the knighthood and that he took personal offense at their behavior.”
Emilie smiled. “That sounds like something he would say,” she said softly, her gaze moving off towards the sounds of battle. “Now he understands what it is to fight for the woman he loves.”
“He had no choice.”
“He does love her.”
David nodded faintly, acknowledging what they all knew, as he sipped at his wine again. “I am not surprised this battle has lasted this long,” he said after a moment. “They are both very strong men.”
Emilie could see them in the growing light, slicing at each other wearily. “Can you not stop them?” she begged. “Surely they will listen to you.”
David nodded. “I can try,” he said. “But they will only start up again once they have rested. This is a fight of passion and possession, Em. One cannot simply stop what has already started. They have to fight it out until…”
“Until one of them is killed,” she finished for him. When he nodded reluctantly, she shook her head. “It could be Maddoc. What then? Do you have any idea how it will affect Adalind? Is she truly going to want to marry the man who killed the only man she has ever loved?”
“I will not allow her to marry de Royans,” he said. “I have already denied the man. If he thinks he is fighting to win her, then he is wrong.”
“Have you told him that?”
David shook his head, hard. “And risk injury?” he said as if she were daft. “Perhaps there is something you do not know, sweetheart; I do not move as quickly as I once did. Those men down there are big, young, and strong, and I am not about to get close enough to the point where they might run me down. Moreover, I might distract Maddoc if I did and give de Royans the opportunity to kill him. Nay, my lady, I am not going anywhere near that battle.”
Emilie cocked an eyebrow. “Then stand here and yell at them, for pity’s sake. Let them hear you.”
“Again, a distraction. Maddoc would hear me and, perhaps, de Royans would. I do not know. But I do know this; if Maddoc hears me, he will stop if I tell him to because I am his liege. It is de Royans I do not trust. I do not want to help the man kill Maddoc. Therefore, it is best not to interfere.”
Emilie sighed heavily showing she did not agree with him. She pulled her fur cloak more tightly around her slender body in the chill temperature. She glanced up to the sky, to the mist that was swirling overhead.
“Adalind has not slept,” she said quietly. “Her bower window faces this side of the castle. She has been watching this all night.”
David didn’t like the sound of that. “Did you try to stop her?”
“Of course we did. She will not move. If it were you doing battle in the bailey, I would have to watch also. I could not bury my head in the sand and hope for the best.”
David started to say something but was distracted when Brighton, being driven back by Maddoc, bumped into the well and was nearly pushed into it as Maddoc saw an opportunity. Brighton lost his balance momentarily but slugged Maddoc in the face with his right hand, shoving the man back, before regaining his balance and moving away from the well. David watched with a calculated eye.
“Maddoc is finally gaining the upper hand,” he muttered with some satisfaction. “De Royans, as good as he is, is tiring. We should see an end to this soon.”
Emilie watched the knights as the broadswords began to swing again. “Will Maddoc kill him?”
David nodded slowly, his eyes riveted to the battle. “He will have to.” He watched a moment longer before turning to his wife. “Is Adalind still in her chamber watching all of this?”
Emilie nodded. “She was the last time I saw her.”
David thought a moment. “Bring her down here,” he finally said. “If she is going to watch this, let it be with me. That way, if something happens….”
Emilie understood. Kissing her husband’s cold cheek, she disappeared inside, intent on collecting her granddaughter.
*
Adalind was not in her room.
Under the guise of going to the privy, she had slipped from the keep and, even now, stood against the southeast corner of the big, squat keep, watching Maddoc and Brighton battle in the distance. She had been watching the swordplay all night, knots in her belly as Maddoc fought for his life. This was supposed to be her wedding day, the happiest day of her life as she married the man she loved. She had prayed constantly since the contest started that it would not be the day she buried Maddoc. She would want to be buried right along with him.
Now, down on the floor of the bailey, she could see the happenings much better. Clad in a gray surcoat made from lamb’s wool and a matching cloak lined with rabbit’s fur, she blended into the dark and misty dawn as she clung to the wall of the keep, waiting and watching just like everyone else. She could see her grandfather at the entrance to the keep, watching from his post where he had been all night, and she could also see the soldiers on the walls watching every movement. Even Gerid was up there. He had been watching all night, too.
Adalind had long since dried her tears over the situation. She had wept for several hours after the start of the battle, but those tears had faded in favor of a plan. She simply couldn’t sit by as Maddoc fought for his life. It wasn’t in her nature. All of this was her fault, anyway, so it was up to her to put an end to it.
Watching the fight from her chamber as Willow snored and her mother sewed, Adalind’s bright mind began to formulate a scheme. By dawn, she most definitely had a plan, something that would stop the fight and make de Royans go away forever. She had to see it through.
In her hand, she held a small bejeweled dagger that her grandmother had given her long ago. She intended to use it on de Royans while Maddoc had him distracted. She wasn’t sure how she was ever going to explain to Glennie how she had killed
her friend’s brother, but she couldn’t worry about that now. All she could think of was Maddoc and saving him from Brighton. She hoped she was brave enough, and strong enough, to do it. But for Maddoc, she was willing to do anything. Even kill.
As the day lightened around her, she was ready to enact that plan. The problem was that her grandfather stood between her and the combatants, and he would surely stop her before she could get to them. Therefore, she circled the keep and ended up on the west side, which was a little closer to the battle. More importantly, there was nothing between her and the knights so she had a clear field to operate in.
To her right, against the wall of the keep, stood Brighton’s charger. Looking at the big cream-colored horse butt gave her an idea. As Maddoc knocked Brighton to his knees and nearly cut his head off with a weary swipe of the broadsword, Adalind picked up a rock, aimed at the horse’s arse, and threw as hard as she could.
The charger squealed and, startled, took off at a dead run. A satchel came loose and crashed to the ground, spilling possessions. I was enough to distract both Brighton and Maddoc, who instinctively looked over when the horse brayed. It was the distraction Adalind had hoped for and she rushed out from her hiding place, straight at the knights. Brighton’s back was to her but Maddoc was facing her, and when he saw her running towards them with a dagger flashing in her hand, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. In fact, it took him a long moment to process it. Then, he moved in her direction.
“Addie!” he boomed. “Get back! Get…”
His words were cut off as Brighton used Maddoc’s distraction to his advantage. Bringing up his broadsword, he took a blind stab at Maddoc and ended up goring the man in the torso underneath his right arm. It was in the seam where the breast and back plate joined, and he had, by sheer chance, penetrated it.
The heavy broadsword carved into Maddoc’s big body but the man didn’t go down. It slowed him down and he staggered sideways with the majority of Brighton’s broadsword hanging out of his body. Brighton, however, was up and moving, rushing to Adalind and grabbing her before she realized what had happened. The dagger in her hand ended up in Brighton’s grip, and he hauled her up against him with the lovely bejeweled dagger pointed at her neck.
Maddoc saw what had happened but his legs wouldn’t move correctly. He tried to take a step in her direction but ended up collapsing on his knees. He couldn’t breathe and his field of vision was fading. David was already flying off the stairs, moving far too fast for the injured old man, heading for Maddoc as Gerid and a host of soldiers also rushed in Maddoc’s direction. In fact, the entire castle was in an uproar as Maddoc pitched forward onto his face.
Adalind screamed Maddoc’s name as Brighton began dragging her across the bailey. She was crying loudly, the realization of Maddoc’s injury driving home every horrible fear she had ever entertained. The fact that she had caused it with her foolish plan only made her scream louder. God help her, she knew she had killed him in her attempt to save him. She was shattered in so many ways, pieces of herself sparking in the cold gray dawn like shooting stars burning out in the night sky.
Every part of her was dying at the moment, her soul snuffed out as Maddoc lay on his face. In her grief, Adalind grabbed the dirk that Brighton was holding against her throat and forced his hand, driving it into her neck. The blood poured.
David roared with agony when he saw Adalind and the blood spilling down her chest. He was halfway to Maddoc but came to an unsteady halt as Brighton dragged Adalind to within a few feet of him.
“Nay!” David threw out his hands to Brighton. “Do not kill her; please, I beg you.”
Brighton was somewhat horrified himself. “I did not do this to her, my lord, I assure you,” he said. “She has done it to herself.”
David was begging. “Please let me have her,” he pleaded. “She needs a physic.”
Brighton could feel her squirming in his arms and knew she had some strength left. Whatever injury she had given herself must not have been too terrible if she still had fight in her. He shook his head.
“I will find a physic for her,” he assured him in an oddly calm voice. “Your physic must tend Maddoc. He is a good man and an excellent knight. Perhaps it is foolish to say so, but I am sorry for what I had to do. I had no choice.”
David was pale with fury, with fear. It was a struggle to remain calm. “Damn you, de Royans,” he hissed, trying not to look at Adalind as she gasped and wept. “I told you Adalind was not meant for you. You should have done the honorable thing and accepted my word. God damn you to hell; now you see what you have done.”
Brighton’s gaze flickered in Maddoc’s direction. A host of soldiers hovered over him as Gerid rolled the man onto his back and checked him for signs of life. He refused to feel remorse.
“It is done,” he said simply, hoarsely. “I cannot take it back. Now, give me my horse or I swear you will lose your granddaughter in front of your eyes.”
“If you do, I promise you that you will not leave this place alive.”
“Then give me my horse or she will bleed to death in front of you. Let me go with her or she dies.”
“If she dies, you die.”
“The longer we stand here and argue, the more her life slips away.”
“Papa,” Adalind sobbed. “Maddoc… I am so sorry. Please, Papa, help him.”
It was so pitifully spoken, the sorrowful pleas of a young woman about to lose what was most precious to her. David looked at Adalind and he couldn’t stop the tears filling his eyes. It was as horrible as it could possibly be and he was sick with the realization.
“Oh… Addie,” he murmured. “It is not your fault, sweetheart.”
Adalind was weeping deeply. “Papa, help him,” she cried. “I cannot live without him. I want to die, too.”
David could feel her grief, a physical pain reaching out to squeeze his heart. He could hardly breathe with the force of it. As he turned to look over his shoulder at Maddoc, who was now being tended to by Gerid and several soldiers, screams from the keep caught his attention and he looked up to see Emilie and Christina in the doorway surveying the carnage.
Torn between Adalind and Maddoc, David was swept up with the vision of his grief-stricken wife and daughter. His first instinct was to bolt towards the keep, and he did. God help him, he went with his instinct because he knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight Brighton for Adalind. He needed help, and his help was dying on the ground with a broadsword in his torso. He knew Brighton served Norfolk so he knew where the man would take her. When David showed up to claim his granddaughter, it would be with his army and his brother’s army, and Norfolk would have no choice but to surrender. Then they would burn Arundel to the ground.
With David no longer blocking his path, Brighton hauled Adalind across the bailey, holding the dagger to her throat so no man would stop him. Soldiers followed him at close range but no one made a move to attack him, fearful that he would kill Adalind. She was bleeding all down her neck and chest, wounded in the battle for her hand. Behind them, her mother and grandmother screamed their anguish.
As the soldiers followed in an uncertain group, Brighton came across his charger over by the far end of the bailey and tossed Adalind up into the saddle. He vaulted on behind her and, reins in one hand and holding both Adalind and the dagger in the other, he made haste from Canterbury’s chaotic keep.
We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same
Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell –
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
She wouldn’t let the physic touch her.
Fortunately, the wound on Adalind’s neck had stopped oozing but she wouldn’t let anyone near her to tend it. Whenever they tried, she screamed and threw fists and feet until they backed away. She was like a caged animal, incoherent and mad, causing chaos and concern with her behavior.
His first thought after leaving Canterbury was to find a church so they could be married right
away. He would have the priests send for a physic to attend to Adalind’s wound, but that plan had not worked out as he had hoped. Adalind cowered in the corner of the sanctuary at the small parish church of St. Barnabas, absolutely out of her mind with grief and terror. Every time Brighton approached her, she screamed as if he were preparing to murder her.
The priests, three of them, had no idea what to do. There was a man in charge, Father Matthias, who was a sane and just man who had once been a knight. While his two subordinate priests spoke in hushed and fearful tones, he remained silent, watching the well-dressed but bloodstained lady collapsed against the cold stone wall on the western edge of the sanctuary. A physic they had brought from the town sat on the floor several feet away from her, trying to coax her into allowing him to tend her wound, but she put her hands over her ears and blocked him out.
The big blond knight just stood and watched her. The man had hardly said five words to them in the hour or more that he and the lady had been there, and even then it was to demand a physic. Since that time, the man hadn’t uttered another sound; he wouldn’t answer any questions from the confused priests. He simply stood about a dozen feet away from the lady, watching her, his face etched with exhaustion and, quite possibly, anguish. It was difficult to know. One thing was certain, however; whatever was happening between them was horrible and tumultuous.
Father Matthias was observing the situation just as the knight was, only he was observing the entire scene. The knight seemed to only be focused on the lady, but Father Matthias envisioned the global view. Nothing escaped his scrutiny. Nearly two hours after the knight had brought the kicking and screaming lady through the door, Father Matthias had enough curiosity and concern.
At first, he hadn’t wanted to involve himself in the situation. It was safer sometimes to stay out of these hectic situations and hope that they simply go away. But this one was not going way. He wanted to know what was going on and what all intentions were from both the lady and the knight. He suspected the knight would only tell him the arrogant and self-important versions that knights were so capable of, and thought the lady might be the only one to give him any semblance of the total truth. If he could only ease her fear.
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