He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead, and then suddenly Reginald Grayson lifted his tankard with a cheer. The hall rang with glad cries, so much so that men outside the castle were wont to stare at one another in wonder. What did these besieged people have to celebrate?
But soon the attackers saw that the spirit of celebration also extended to bold confidence, for under a flag of truce, Raven Seabern, with two knights at his side, rode out to speak with the new leaders of the siege.
Several of the northern lords met him.
“I didna have the opportunity ta speak with ye last evening,” Raven said drily. “But I wish ta inform ye that I have come from Stephen’s court. He is displeased with this unrest ye’ve caused here in the north. He sent a regiment of knights and mounted men-at-arms, and they follow a day behind me. I traveled more swiftly, for I didna take well the thought of my wife in danger. The king’s men will arrive by the end of the day. Ye may send your scurriers ta see that I speak the truth.”
The lords looked askance at one another, but before one could speak, Raven continued, “You may have noticed the royal courier arriving today.”
“And did we not allow him to see you?” one man said angrily.
“Aye, ye did, and ’tis a good thing, for he bore timely news. My father by marriage, Vachel de Gerard, has become the Earl de Venn, courtesy of His Majesty.”
The noblemen were fidgeting now, looking at one another with obvious uncertainty.
“Say what you want, Scotsman,” said Baron Gravesend, who only weeks before had challenged Raven to nothing more serious than a game of tables. “But the king does not comprehend our life on the border. We must protect ourselves.”
“The king has chosen ta protect my wife and her family,” Raven answered coldly. “I suggest ye think on that before ye’re foolish enough ta waste more lives attacking me and mine. Abandon this siege and return ta your homes before worse happens ta ye.”
And then Raven guided his horse in a circle and rode back toward the lowered drawbridge without even a glance over his shoulder. Though many of them would have longed to bury a dagger in his back, none would risk it now.
Not two hours later, they began to withdraw, already planning how they could return with more men. From his pallet, Thurstan railed against them, urged on by Mordea’s lust for vengeance, but no longer was anyone listening. This falling from power ate away at him, clouding his judgment and making stronger the hatred he felt for Abrielle, her husband, and the families cherished by them both.
CHAPTER 21
By the next day, a royal regiment one hundred men strong gathered in the courtyard and clustered in the great hall, straining the capacity of the keep. But Raven could not yet send them away, for word came from his scurriers that the northern lords did indeed think to defy the king, beginning to gather a larger army in their quest to expel the Scottish presence in Northumberland.
Preparations began for the great journey to Scotland, and notice was sent to the surrounding lords that Raven and his family were departing. Since most of Vachel’s knights and their families were unwilling to venture to the highlands of Scotland, both Abrielle’s and Vachel’s castles would remain under their protection. But Raven did not assume that Thurstan had forgotten his vengeance. He sent men to keep watch on Thurstan’s manor, and instructed them to send word if his small army moved out in force.
Thurstan, slow to recover, used that time to try to persuade his allies to yet take the castle and keep it from Raven Seabern. But the men he had assumed shared his vision of revenge now insisted that all they’d ever wanted was Raven’s departure. With the Scottish presence no more, Thurstan’s allies went back to protect their own homes in this uneasy time. Thurstan, without enough men to attack, now looked upon the de Marlé castle as a mocking prize he could not win, a sign of his failure. In pain and frustration, his sanity began to slip, and in his need for revenge, he hatched a plan to follow the Seabern caravan, and if unable to attack it, travel to the very heart of the Seabern stronghold to complete his revenge. He enlisted the aid of Mordea, and together they prepared for the long journey through Scotland. But his wounds grew inflamed, and a fever took hold, delaying their departure.
At the de Marlé castle, a caravan of horse-drawn conveyances was outfitted to take the families northward. A number of serfs who had readily affirmed that they were willing to accompany the northbound group were wont to drive the carts and wagons and take care of the animals. Other serfs whose talents lay in cooking tasty dishes scouted out edibles evident along the trail in order to add flavor to the dishes they created. At night, huge bonfires warded off the cold. Guards were posted and urged to be wary of anyone who might be wont to approach their encampment.
Once the Scottish border had been crossed, peace seemed to reign in every dale and hillock they passed, but it was deceptive. Certainly, in comparison to the strife presently taking place in England, it did seem a blissful haven in which they could take refuge. But Raven was well aware of the danger that could yet be following somewhere behind, and he spent each day riding the length of the caravan, looking for signs of pursuit. A fortnight into the journey, his courier caught up to report that after a week’s delay for Thurstan’s recovery, his small army was on the move, but no one knew if more men and supplies would be joining him. Cedric sent another courier to discover the current size of the force.
During this time, Abrielle watched the tenderness and care Vachel showed toward Elspeth, and reflected on the obvious fact that their allegiances to either Norman or Saxon never interfered in their marriage. Seeing them together gave her confidence that she and Raven could do the same and helped quell her fears over a Scottish and Saxon union. Other fears—most, she could see now, of her own making—faded as well. Where once she might have thought herself undesirable, now she knew that Raven wanted an equal partner in marriage, a woman grown, not a girl full of frustrated fantasies of what marriage should be. Nay, her married life was no fantasy, not with men constantly on guard all day, or taking turns patrolling their encampment each night. Her precious moments alone with Raven occurred only when he snatched a few hours’ sleep in between guard duties. Surely if they could survive this, they could bear whatever lay ahead for them in the scores of years she hoped they would have together.
Finally Raven announced that they were nearing his home. He and his father pushed the caravan hard that final day, exhausting the horses in a last effort to reach the Seabern estate before Thurstan could arrive. The enemy’s scurriers had been spotted moving through the trees, so his force could not be far behind.
To Abrielle, the revelation of the Seaberns’ keep was humbling, and more than sufficient to prevent her from ever jumping to conclusions about her husband again. It was a massive fortress with numerous towers, and high walls for protection. If anything, the structure was even more impressive than the one that Lord Weldon had designed and built for himself. Abrielle stared at her husband’s home—her home, and what a magnificent home it would be for their family. Mortified, she remembered how she’d once thought he needed her wealth. Though she felt a fool for doubting him, she reminded herself that he’d given her every reason to suspect his motives. But now all she saw was a man devoted to his family, who kept them safe on a many-week journey.
Moments later, he drew the conveyance to a halt before the drawbridge and, upon alighting, briskly lifted her down. “Welcome ta our humble keep, my lady.” Though his words were an attempt at lightheartedness, she could see his cold eyes scanning the forest several hundred yards distant, as if any moment soldiers waving swords would swarm at them.
“I never dreamt your ancestral home would be so grand,” Abrielle said, trying to be as brave as her husband. “Why didn’t you tell me how beautiful this valley was?”
He gave her a tight smile, pleased at his wife’s reaction to his family’s home despite the tension felt by them both. “Come see the interior, lass.”
She looked over her sho
ulder, into the dark of the forest they’d just left. “Of course,” she replied, knowing he wanted them all inside as quickly as possible. Up on the battlements, soldiers patrolled, and off in the distance, she saw dozens of serfs moving across fields and lanes toward the keep, carrying baskets and sacks.
Raven saw where she was looking. “I sent word ahead for the last of our people ta gather in the castle before we seal the gates.”
She nodded, trying not to think of the fear those poor people must be feeling. She had brought this on them, she thought with despair. If she and Raven hadn’t married, Thurstan would not be bringing his evil into this peaceful valley.
The villagers themselves herded their children before them, ignorant of the cause of their summoning, but understanding that Laird Seabern would keep them safe, whatever they had to face. Cloaked against the chill breeze, no one noticed a hooded figure slipping among them when they passed a wooded copse. The person carried a basket like all the others, and patiently waited in line to pass through the postern gate, before stepping into the dark shadows of an unlit corridor to disappear.
Inside the great hall, Raven and Cedric were the recipients of greetings from various knights and castle servants. Bows and curtsies were offered with wishes of good fortune for the marriage of Abrielle and Raven. The head cook promised a feast the bridal couple wouldn’t soon forget, but all understood that such celebrations would have to wait.
When at last Abrielle had a moment, she gaped at her surroundings, the intricately carved mantel over the hearth and the many fine tapestries keeping out the drafts. Shields and portraits of ancestors lined several walls of the great room, evidencing a fine lineage of handsome men and women of extraordinary beauty. Her gaze seemed naturally drawn to a painting of a fairly regal, auburn-haired beauty that hung in a place of distinction beside a painting of a young man who looked very much like her own husband.
“My father and mother,” Raven said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders, his voice full of both love and pride.
“It could be a portrait of you,” Abrielle replied, awed by the close resemblance he bore to the man in the painting. “Your mother was a rare beauty, to be sure.”
“My da loved her as he has no other. ’Tis only been of late that I’ve seen a warm sparkle come inta his eye for another, but of course he’s wont ta think she’s much too young for an old man.”
“If you mean Cordelia,” Abrielle replied, “he probably has more of a chance at winning her heart than any suitor half his age. If you haven’t noticed by now, Cordelia has a mind of her own. I would take her seriously, for she has never shown much interest or patience with suitors closer to her own age. Indeed, for an elder, your father is very fit and handsome.”
Raven chuckled as he dipped his head in agreement. “He’s been known ta best me more than a time or two. But what de ye think Lord Reginald would be saying ta such a match?”
“He seems to enjoy having Cedric around, especially after his injury. I think if your father were to wed Cordelia, it would serve only to deepen the amity between the two men.”
“Ye think so?” he asked dubiously.
“Have I ever given you cause to doubt me?” she asked with feigned innocence.
His smile was slow in coming, but as it did, she thought surely the sun had come out from behind the darkest clouds. For one brief moment, she did not see his burden of responsibility and command, but sober knowledge settled into his gaze once again.
DARKNESS FELL BEFORE Thurstan’s men could reveal themselves, and although the castle residents and guests knew that they might find themselves surrounded come morning, for now they shared a simple meal together in thanksgiving for their safe arrival. Conversations were subdued, and people ate in haste, needing to gather their families close in the night.
After Cedric and Raven toured the castle grounds one last time, Cedric rested before the hearth to clean his battle-ax.
Lord Reginald Grayson approached him and cleared his throat. “Laird Cedric—”
“‘Laird Cedric’?” the Scotsman interrupted. “Reggie, havena the two of us progressed beyond the use of titles these past months? Ye’ve called me Cedric almost from the time we met.”
Feeling a rising warmth in his cheeks, Reginald offered an awkward smile. “Aye, I suppose I have, Cedric. In all truth, it was my wife who urged me to approach you, and although now may not be the time, we know not what the future holds. ’Tis about…our daughter.”
Cedric grew even more baffled. “I admire the Lady Cordelia as much as any lass alive. If she has mayhap taken offense with my teasing, then I’ll surely mend my ways.”
“She has not been offended,” Reginald stated. “On the contrary, she has been much heartened.”
Cedric nodded slowly, thinking he understood what his friend was trying to tell him. “Well, she is a comely lass, but I shall make every attempt ta be more respectful in her presence so ye and the Lady Isolde willna be offended. Ta be sure, the Lady Cordelia makes my very heart sing, and I’m supposing I’ve gone a wee bit beyond the behavior of more dignified men in my wont ta sing her praises.”
“Please be assured that none of my family has been offended,” Reginald replied.
Now utterly confused, Cedric set aside his ax. “Then what in all creation are ye trying ta say, Reggie?”
“We…ah…that is, Isolde and I have been wondering if you are truly interested in having our daughter to wife?”
Cedric harrumphed. “Well, ta be honest, I dinna consider the fires of my youth ta be entirely quenched yet…not that I’d ever be supposing something more could come of my friendship with the Lady Cordelia. Were I a score of years younger, I’d set my heart firmly on having the lass for my very own.”
“And that is exactly why I’ve come to you, to assure you that Isolde and I wouldn’t think ill of you if you were to court our daughter,” Reginald explained in a rush.
Cedric canted his head as he peered at the man more intently. “And such a thing would be ta the Lady Cordelia’s liking as well?”
“Actually, she was the one who brought the matter to our attention by asking if we’d be amenable to such an idea. I think the danger of our journey made her contemplate her future. I’ve yet to find a suitor for my daughter who is more pleasing to me. Isolde and I both want to be able to enjoy our grandchildren ere we depart this life.”
“I canna lie. Merely the idea of taking ta wife so bonny a lass makes me feel young again. Even so, there are a vast number of years separating the lass and me. I’m wont ta worry that I’d be doing the Lady Cordelia a disservice by marrying her. Many a young man would be overjoyed ta court the lass, so she may come ta rue our marriage should we be too hasty. As much as I’d be delighted ta have such an honor, the lass may need more time ta consider the notion.” He paused. “Did she know beforehand that ye’d be conferring with me?”
“Nay, after voicing the question to Isolde, I hadn’t the heart to approach Cordelia until I had spoken with you. If you should decide against taking my daughter to wife, nothing more will be said of it. Please be assured that our friendship will continue on as before.”
Nodding his head, Cedric clasped Reginald’s hand in a firm grip. “Then we’ll be leaving it here till I’ve thought on this matter more and am satisfied the lass wants no other man but me for her husband.”
THAT NIGHT, IN an ornately constructed prayer closet that had once belonged to Raven’s mother, Abrielle pleaded fervently for the protection of those who had remained behind to watch over the keep. In a world that now seemed in total disarray, there were no guarantees that life would ever return to the way it was when Henry reigned. Although of human origin, many ravenous wolves were still prowling about drooling for want of blood and plunder.
When Raven still did not come to her, Abrielle went in search of him, accepting the assistance of the captain of the guard, who guided her up the narrow stairs to the battlements. The shock of the wind whipped her cloak
about her legs, and she clutched the warm cloth to her neck. The moon had risen, and between that and the pools of torchlight, she saw Raven standing alone, looking out into the darkness. The captain of the guard ensured her safety as she walked the length of the battlements, until she had Raven’s arm about her, and his warm smile to cheer her.
When they were alone, he said, “My wife isna content in her new chambers?”
“You know that they are beautiful,” she murmured, snuggling against him, her head tucked beneath his chin. “All of our guests and family are settled, and though you need rest, still I find you here.”
He shrugged. “I canna help it.”
His soothing voice rumbled deep inside her whenever they touched.
“I trust my people implicitly,” he continued, “and I ken that all is done as Da and I wish, yet…de Marlé is out there somewhere, waiting, choosing his time.”
“Would he be foolish enough to attack at night?”
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