Archangel (3 page)

Emberley smiled at him and beckoned him to follow her back up the stairs.  He did so willingly, gladly, but the moment she turned her back on the boys and headed up the stairs, the youngest one yanked his hand from Gart’s fist and began smacking him on the leg. 

Romney, too, waited until his mother’s back was turned before shaking a fist at Gart, making horrible and threatening faces at him. Orin still had a stick and he whacked Gart on the back with it. Gart grabbed the stick and tossed it away but when Emberley turned around at the sounds coming from behind her, the four of them froze and smiled innocently at her. Emberley grinned and continued up the stairs.

The attack against Gart resumed all the way into the great hall above.

Chapter Two

“Forbes is the one they call ‘Sach’.”

Baron Buckland looked at the man who spoke. “What does that mean?”

Sir David de Lohr, Baron Thornden, wriggled his blond eyebrows, noticing that Forbes was entering the smelly, smoky hall in the company of a very beautiful woman.

 De Lohr and Baron Buckland sat at the far end of the long, scrubbed table, enjoying the heat from the enormous hearth and the fine alcohol.  Now their focus was on the pair approaching from the darkened entry.

 “It is an abbreviated Celtic name,” de Lohr told him quietly. “It means ‘insane’.”

Julian de Moyon, Baron Buckland, lifted his dark eyebrows. “Insane?” he repeated. “The man is mad?”

De Lohr shrugged vaguely, collecting his half-drained cup of tart port wine. “Not in the literal sense,” he said, his voice lowering as Forbes drew near. “But there is no one fiercer on the field of battle or in the face of adversity.  He is absolutely fearless and skilled beyond compare.”

Julian’s gaze moved between the enormous knight with the shaved head and chiseled features, and his wife as the approached the table.

“He is a giant,” he commented quietly. “Look of the size of his hands.”

De Lohr nodded slightly as he lifted his cup. “Those hands can rip a man’s head from his body. I have seen it myself. I pity the man who truly enrages Forbes.”

Julian looked at him, shocked, as Gart and Emberley reached the table. Emberley’s warm smiled turned into something forced as she focused on her husband.

“My lord,” she addressed him. “This is Sir Gart Forbes, a man who was friends with my brother long ago. Gart and I knew each other when we were very young.”

Julian eyed Gart, more focused on his wife. “Get out,” he snapped. “The men have business to conduct.”

Emberley’s smile faded and her cheeks turned red, reflexive reaction to her husband’s humiliation. He hadn’t even acknowledged her polite introduction, which wasn’t unusual. Still, she was embarrassed even though she should have been used to the treatment after all of these years.

“I will bid you gentlemen a good eve,” she said politely to the table, turning to Gart one last time. “I hope to see you before you leave so we may finish our conversation.”

Before Gart could reply, Julian slammed his fist against the table. “I told you to leave, woman.  Go before I take my hand to you.”

Gart eyed the baron, looking to Emberley and seeing how ashamed she was. He didn’t like the way the man spoke to her. His first impression of the baron was not a good one.  He smiled at Emberley, a gesture that those who knew he did not believe he was capable of.  Gart Forbes was not a man who smiled, in any case.

“I will not leave before speaking with you, my lady,” he said kindly. “Good eve to you.”

Emberley’s trembling smile turned real as she silently thanked him for his graciousness. Gathering her skirts, she fled the hall as Gart watched.  His gaze lingered on the empty doorway a moment, thinking of Emberley and her three wild beasty boys before returning his attention to the table.  Seeing the baron and his crass manners, he was coming to see why the boys behaved as they did.  He was coming not to like what he was seeing.

But he was a mere knight and his opinion was not of issue. He did what he was told to do and served whoever his liege directed. Without a word he sat down, collecting his cup and taking a large measure of wine only to realize that Julian was staring at him.  Gart stared back, noting the small, dark-haired man with the bushy mustache. 

“You are Forbes?” Julian confirmed.

Gart nodded shortly. “Aye, my lord.”

“I have heard much of your abilities.”

Gart simply nodded and Julian sat forward in his seat; he seemed to be taking a good deal of interest in studying him.   The man was enormous, no doubt.  Everything about him was big from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his massive feet. His voice was so deep that it seemed to bubble up from the ground.  But it was his eyes that had Julian’s attention – they had a sinister and calculating look about them. 

As Julian gazed at the man, he could see why the soldiers had nicknamed him ‘Sach’. From what he could see, it suited him.

“I understand you have been in Normandy for the past year, fighting on the king’s behalf,” Julian finally said.

Gart regarded the baron, his hand tightening around his cup. “I have, my lord,” he replied.

“How did the battles fare?”

“My lord?”

“Were they well supplied and well commanded?”

Gart wasn’t sure of the motivation behind the question but he nodded. “They were, my lord.”

Julian digested the answer and, satisfied, moved on. “Am I to understand that you know my wife?”

“I do, my lord,” Gart answered. “Her brother and I were the best of friends until his death in The Levant.”

Julian snorted as he collected his wine cup. “Then you know she has always been a beautiful girl,” he took a long drink of wine and smacked his lips. “She has provided me with three fine sons, perhaps the only thing that keeps her useful to me other than her obvious beauty.”

Gart didn’t react to the statement although he didn’t like the way the man said it. Having nothing to say to him, he returned to his drink as Julian turned to the baron seated to his left.

 “Does he know that you are sending him back to France?” he asked.

David glanced at Gart. “That has not been decided yet,” he said evenly. “I am here to discuss the possibility.  You and my brother are allies and he has asked me to come to Dunster to hear of your situation.  I was told there was an issue with your lands in France.”

Julian shook his head. “Not my lands,” he said. “The Queen’s lands.  Even as John fights to regain what he has lost in Normandy, his wife also has lands that are compromised. She needs protection and I have sworn to help her.”

De Lohr wasn’t too quick to support his claim. “What do you have to do with the Queen?”

Julian smiled lazily, toying with his cup. “Have you not heard, my friend?” he flicked a careless wrist. “The Queen and I are madly in love.  She has my heart and I would do anything for her, including defending her lands against Phillip August.  The French king envies her properties near Angouleme and I have sworn to keep them safe, which is why I need your assistance.”

De Lohr sighed faintly; he had heard from his brother, the powerful Earl of Hereford and Worcester, that Baron Buckland was something of a political player and an opportunist.  The man had rich lands, however, and a great deal of money and manpower, and spent a great deal of time in London soliciting the favor of the king.  It seemed that he had garnered the favor of the Queen instead. 

“Surely she has enough troops,” David said. “She cannot possibly need more men.”

Julian poured himself more wine. “She is afraid,” he said. “Afraid of the French king, afraid of her own mother who rules similar lands… the woman needs help and I have sworn to obtain it. Will you not supply me with men and knights for this purpose?”

It was evident that David was resistant.  Gart stayed out of the conversation, listening to his liege and Buckland go back and forth on what was, and was not appropriate support.  Gart had served de Lohr for six years and new the man and his family was rigidly opposed to John.  They had been strong supporters of Richard until four years ago when the man was killed in France.  Then, they had no choice but to support John as the rightful king. It was something that still left a bad taste in their mouth.

Gart sat at the table for quite some time listening to the arguing and pleading.  He ate, he drank, and he generally grew weary of the bickering.  Finally excusing himself just after midnight, he intended to return to the stables to collect his bags and then find a warm corner of Dunster to sleep in.  He was exhausted and decided to let the barons do their bickering alone. He had no say in it, anyway.

Taking the spiral stairs down to the entry level, he could see remnants of white powder on the floor and steps.  He half-expected the three little hooligans to come jumping out at him again and knew, reasonably, that they would be in bed and long asleep by now.  Quitting the keep, he took the wooden stairs to the bailey and proceeded across the dark, dusty ward.

The moon was full overhead, casting the landscape in an eerie silver glow. Gart glanced up at the sky, seeing a million stars spread across the dark expanse.  It was a beautiful night and unseasonably clear. 

As he lowered his gaze in search of the stables, he could see the sentries upon the battlements as pin-points of torch light moved through the darkness. Somewhere, a dog barked.  Just as the stables came into view to the northeast section of the castle, his gaze fell upon a small and lone figure near the northeast tower.

He wouldn’t have paid any attention except the figure turned and began to walk, and he noticed immediately that it wasn’t a soldier. It was too small and too finely wrapped.  Drawing closer, he realized he was gazing up at a woman as she walked the battlements.

Not only was very late for a lone woman to be taking a nightly stroll, it was also unsafe.  Only someone very comfortable with her position within the castle would show such confidence walking alone. Curious, he made his way to the northeast turret and took the stairs to the battlements.

The battlements were long and narrow, perched high on the walls of Dunster.  There was a thirty foot drop to the bailey below as he made his way along the narrow walkway.  He could see the cloaked figure ahead of him, heading in the direction of the gatehouse.  He picked up his pace, passing a couple of sentries, to catch up with her.

“My lady?” he said when he came to within a few feet of her.

Startled, Emberley spun around and nearly lost her balance.  Gart quickly reached out to grab her so she wouldn’t topple over the side. When he was sure she was steady, he immediately dropped his hands.

“God’s Bones,” Emberley cursed softly, patting her chest as if to restart her heart. “You frightened me.”