“Not so much of a miracle. We all want to live,” he said, but smiled kindly.
“Well, I will move on, then!” she said. “Just know that what you are doing...it is good.”
He nodded to her and stepped aside, somewhat precariously, for her to pass him by with her heavy food dishes.
He headed straight for the main tower. The great hall was empty, but a fire burned at the hearth.
He started for his room but paused. He could not help himself.
He headed to Kyleigh’s room. He knocked but received no answer.
He hesitated; she was probably sleeping.
He shouldn’t, he knew, but he opened her door. The room was empty.
He swore softly, feeling a burning in him. But she was not with Padraic; Padraic was on the wall.
And then he turned.
The newly knighted Sir Gareth was heading out that night, not too close to the enemy line, he had sworn, but close enough to witness the activity in their camp.
She had guessed Gareth’s purpose and plan.
And she had gone after him. And now...
So much for sleep.
Rowan left the main tower and headed back across the courtyard for the wall.
***
Gareth was going back to the enemy camp, Kyleigh thought.
And Rowan knew he was going.
Had he knighted Gareth just to use him? Did he find him expendable—a village lad who insisted on his own abilities and therefore why not let him venture out and possibly be captured, tortured, and killed?
She was angry as she followed him. Angry and frustrated.
Gareth was good. He was fleet and stealthy. He could blend into the foliage almost as well as Padraic’s people.
And he paused to look back, even double-back, twice.
She might be invisible, but part of Gareth’s talent was his ability to know when someone was to his rear as well as in front of him.
The walk that night seemed long, but through the forest, on foot, and moving as they were moving, the distance was great.
She glanced at her hands, worried.
She was still invisible. And the sword was invisible, just as she was.
Gareth stopped, looking back. He heard her even if he did not see her. He was careful and suspicious, disappearing into the trees.
He might as well have been invisible, too.
The smell of the earth was rich as they moved on. So was the smell of fire as they neared the enemy camp, and then something worse—the smell of burning flesh.
Brogan’s men had created a massive pit and fire. Their dead were being tossed upon it; they were having a funeral ritual of sorts, but the words were spoken quickly and the dead burned.
Kyleigh winced, watching, and realized not all the enemy’s men were busy with funeral rites; there were shouts and orders beyond the fire.
They were trying to fix the catapults. It would take some time. Their fires of the night before had created damage not easily fixed, even with a rich forest at their taking for the parts they needed.
It would take a while...
But they would be fixed.
Kyleigh saw a rustle in the woods ahead of her. Gareth. He was carefully retreating. She noted one of the men near the catapults frowned and turned, and started out of the guarded area, shouting to others there might have been someone watching. He was joined by another.
Gareth was moving quickly but Kyleigh feared for him.
And she was still invisible. She moved quickly to a position to the south and purposely made noise. Brogan’s men turned in that direction, and she tiptoed across a soft patch of naked earth and then fled in the direction of Kenzie. She hurried, following in his wake as he made his way, walking through the slush and then swimming across the moat.
Guards let down the rope ladder for Gareth. She followed as quickly as she could, afraid they would pull the ladder up before she could crawl over, sending her crashing back into the moat. She almost made it.
But Rowan was there. She believed he saw her. He could not see her. But he sensed her; he knew she was there.
And he was angry.
With Gareth back, he jerked the ladder in.
She fell into the water, landing hard, nearly hitting the bottom of the moat, and swimming up quickly to catch a breath
But of course, when she made her way to the surface, he was waiting for her. The rope ladder was hanging down again.
She was still invisible, but he had seen her fall, and he had seen the splash of the water as she had surfaced. As she slogged her way out of the water, he reached out blindly for her. He caught her by the arm. His grip was not painful, but it was strong. He was clearly angry.
“Show yourself now; I do not intend to say to others about the fact you disappeared again without a word. I would not want you accused of treason, of working for the other side. In fact, I am going to tell myself you are as true to Kenzie and all our peoples as you purport to be! You did not go with words for Brogan and his army, did you?”
“How dare you suggest such a thing!” she gasped, struggling against his hold. “After the way you behaved!”
“The way I behaved?” he demanded.
His eyes were a blue ice-fire as he stared at her.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Making Gareth a knight—just so you could send him into the most dangerous positions. Alone. He is expendable to you!”
“The man is not expendable to me—no man here is expendable!”
“You sent him out!”
“He came to me and asked me. He sought my permission to leave the fortress. Something you did not.”
“He asked to go?”
“I believed the man when he told me that he had gone on many missions for the village, and that he was very good at what he did.”
“And you just let him go.”
He stared at her, shaking his head. “You say he is your friend. Yet I put more faith in him
than you do. Get up the ladder. Go to your room, dry off, and go to bed.”
“I understand you are lord here—”
“This has nothing to do with my title, Kyleigh. We are facing an enemy unlike anything any of us has seen before. You cannot betray your own people.”
“You sent him out alone—”
“Because I believed he was capable of doing as suggested, and he was. He is as good a scout as any could find—almost on a par with Padraic. If you do care about him, perhaps you should believe in him. As we have all believed in you! Get up the ladder!” he ordered.
She did as he said.
Col helped her over the wall to the landing. He smiled at her. “Ah, so our great sorceress was in on it, too. Two sets of eyes are always better!”
She thanked him and started for the steps down to the courtyard.
Rowan caught up with her. “Kyleigh—”
“Maybe you should have faith in me, too!”
“Do you not understand? We are all in this together. You have to talk to me!” he told her.
“You would have told me I should not go—that I was needed here.”
“I might have, and you might have convinced me otherwise. The point here is I am the leader, and in this battle, you need to come to me!”
He had her arm again. And he was speaking so his whisper touched her face. She wanted to rip away from him violently.
Or be held and reassured by him.
She was unsure which at that moment.
He released her. She turned and tried to walk with dignity rather than run away.
She smiled to those she passed in the courtyard, but she was anxious to get to her little room and be alone. There, she set her sword down carefully, dried off, and threw herself on the bed. But she was restless, and she should be doing something. There was so much to be done; there were still so many injured and there were so many mouths to feed at the fortress.
She rose again, determined she would go and find Mary or Alistair
. But she found herself studying the sword as Alistair had studied it. There were no markings on it. The thing was, in fact, a very ordinary sword.
There was a knock at her door and she hurried to answer it, fearful and hopeful it would be Rowan.
It was not; it was Padraic.
“We have a meal in the great hall,” he told her. “Will you join me?”
“Now? I believe it grows late—”
“Not so late. And many have been busy. Rowan has arranged this.”
“Oh. Perhaps not. I think I should find Alistair and Mary and—”
“They have been asked here. I believe they have already arrived. And you must come. Among my number we have quite an amazing young woman who plays the lute and some talented dancers. Those who have worked the hardest deserve rest, and a bit of song and perhaps even dancing to still the tension. I have always found it to be so.”
She smiled at Padraic. “Your suggestion then?”
Padraic shrugged. “Only Matthew of Rowan’s knights will stay on the wall. Rowan trusts few people, though I believe he has come to trust me.”
“How nice for you,” she murmured.
He grinned. “Ah, the good Lord Rowan can be irksome, I see. You need not speak with him. You may sit by me.”
“You will be at his side.”
“I have two sides.”
“As do all,” she murmured. “But—”
“Kyleigh, if you will?”
He bowed slightly and offered her his arm. She enjoyed Padraic. She loved his smile and his sense of ease, even under terrible duress.
She accepted his arm and came down the stairway to the great hall with him.
Several planked tables had been set out for the meal, and the great round table had been moved far back to the side. She saw Padraic’s men were interspersed with Rowan’s people, and servants were busy bearing platters of food to the men who were seated together.
Kyleigh saw Alistair and Mary were seated. Taryn and Gareth were with them and the hard, wooden benches upon which they sat were filled. She stopped to greet her family and Mary was distressed. “I must move, my dear child. You take my seat.”
“Nay, my good wife! I would move!” Alistair said.
“No, no,” Gareth protested.
“I can easily find another seat—” Taryn began.
“No, no!” Kyleigh protested.
“She will be fine, I swear it. Kyleigh has a seat there, at the long table to the left of the entry next to me. I will see no harm comes to her!” Padraic promised, grinning.
Alistair and Mary smiled as well. Padraic had a way of speaking the simplest words with a smile that charmed.
Only Gareth did not smile. He looked at her, as if he was worried.
Did he know she had followed him?
Padraic courteously reached for her arm again, escorting her to the table he had spoken of.
Rowan was there; Col and his lady were at his one side, and down along the table were Lucas and the young woman, Aileen. She was sweet as she spoke to Lucas.
Her dress was rich, Kyleigh thought. Richer than what she had worn in the village.
But she had been the daughter of a knight and the wife of a knight, slain in the middle of the horrible massacre that had cost her a home. She had been taken under wing by someone here—someone besides Rowan, who had certainly seemed to enjoy her presence. Probably Col’s wife, Magdalena.
Kyleigh managed to smile at them all and take a seat. Rowan did not look her way as she did so.
Padraic pointed to a redheaded woman strumming lightly on a lute near the great hearth. “Lilian will play for us. Sweet songs, sad songs, and happy songs. Do you dance?”
“Dance?”
He laughed. “Dancing is fun.”
“We did not really have much time for fun,” she murmured.
“Then I must show you what it is like to enjoy certain moments!” he said. “But first—ah, sitting down, dining on venison and pheasant! Enjoy the time you have, Kyleigh. Learn to enjoy all we have—while we have it!”
“Of course, thank you.”
Padraic turned and spoke with Rowan for a moment. Kyleigh smiled at the young woman next to her—one of Padraic’s finest archers, Caitlin. She was a slim woman, agile, and Kyleigh had seen ability to send an arrow almost as far as a bird could fly.
“It is late for an evening meal,” Kyleigh murmured.
“Ah, time is different now, is it not?” Caitlin asked her. She had soft golden hair she kept in plaits and warm brown eyes. “There might not be such a time again,” she added. “And I am delighted to eat at a table, and not on the wall.”
“Ah, of course. How did you become so good at archery?” Kyleigh asked her.
“My father had all daughters. And he decided a girl could do anything a boy could do. I quickly realized I had a good eye and a strong arm, and I practiced until my body ached each night. But I learned! But you! You are quite extraordinary. Where did you practice your art?”
“I never knew I had an art so, it is not practiced at all,” Kyleigh admitted.
“Then you are more extraordinary than I knew!”
The young woman was pleasant. Kyleigh liked her—and was glad to have her at her other side. She could hear bits of what Rowan, Padraic, and Col were saying.
“Gareth believes they know what we are doing,” Padraic murmured, not to her, more to himself and Rowan. “Perhaps he thinks as you would think—you seem to know what his moves will be, because you know what kind of command could take the fortress.”
She heard Col say, “It is not possible. One man with family and loyalty is always on the wall; the drawbridge to the river has been closed since the last of the people came in. He cannot know what we are thinking. He can only presume to know what we are doing.”
“But I do not believe he thinks we will come after him. Gareth says the men in the camp are relaxed; they do not expect us to come after them,” Rowan said.
“I am sure Brogan sees you as an able commander, not about to leave such a position as this fortress,” Col said.
“What he does or does not know is of little importance,” Padraic said. “He will come back. We will be ready.”
“We will not dwell on it tonight. Padraic! If you will! Your musicians and your dancers!”
Padraic rose and clapped his hands and the young woman who had been sitting by the hearth looked his way and rose.
“Lilian, lass, if you will!” he said.
She started out with a melody that touched the heart with sadness.
She must have realized quickly that was not the choice for the evening because her playing suddenly became lively; and a number of Celts went out on the space beyond the tables, shouting to one another, men and women, and stamping their feet and moving to the music.
“Come!”
She had no chance to refuse; he took Kyleigh’s hand and led her out.
“I do not know what they are doing—”
“Hopping about; follow me!”
She did. And it was fun and lovely and when the others spun about, she did so easily, too, with Padraic’s strong hand to guide her.
When one song ended, another was begun.
At the end, she was winded.
And laughing.
But as they returned to the table, she saw the night was ending. The others stood; applause went around, and when it was over, people talked but no one returned to their seats at the tables.
Some of the men were returning to the wall.
Others would sleep.
Rowan had risen and stood in conversation with the young woman, Aileen. She was earnestly speaking with him.
Her hand was on his shoulder. He seemed to be giving her words grave thought. Kyleigh did not know what he said in return, but he placed a protective hand on her shoulder.
She was not sure why seeing them such made her feel so ill. Envy was a ridiculous emotion; she herself was an asset, just like his Roman fortress and his great sword.
Aileen was the widow of a knight, an appropriate woman for such a lord.
She was an asset he was displeased with, at that.
“Padraic, thank you!” she said. And she thought again about how very much she liked him, and that it was different, somehow.
He was kind to her. And he was an exceptional man.
“I will try to sleep!” she said.
“As will I,” he assured her.
She turned and fled up the stairs, closing herself into her room.
No one came to her door that night.
***
Rowan intended to sleep, but he was the lord of the fortress and as such, he would never ask more of others than he did of himself.
He intended to spend a few hours on the wall.
He told Col he needed to see his wife and child and get some rest. Col agreed but stood next to him for a minute.
“How could there be a traitor among us?” Col asked, shaking his head.
“I do not know. Truly, I do not,” Rowan told him. “But Gareth reported the enemy was almost as relaxed this night as we were. And yet Brogan must know we are aware he intends not just to conquer us, but to decimate us. With that, there are those who believe we should attack the camp and try to take him by night when his men are relaxed.”
“You cannot think ill of Kyleigh,” Col said. “Or of Gareth. Both have been more than willing to risk their lives. Every man risks his life in battle, but to tread where death is certain if one is caught is another form of bravery.”
“No. I know Alistair; I have known him and known of him. He raised Kyleigh. Even if she had no regard for the other life here, she loves him and Mary dearly.”
“No one else has been out,” Col said. “We would know. You have said you trust Padraic, and in truth, I have found him to be a strong and loyal ally.”
“I trust Padraic. He wants to live. I do not believe an enemy like Brogan would seek to befriend the Celts. He intends to destroy them, too.”
“Then—”
“I know not. You are right; no one has been in or out. That we know of. But he travels with a sorcerer or sorceress. Beware of movement, Col. Any movement. A rustle in the grass that could be the wind. He my have this magical being of his slipping in here, and we may know nothing of it. A practiced sorcerer or sorceress can come and go like the wind.” He was quiet a minute. “Merlin could, so I have been told.”
Daughter of Darkness & Light Page 12
