Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (32 page)

She nodded eagerly but began
jumping up and down. “Where is he?”

He sighed heavily; her reaction
was not what he had expected but he was pleased nonetheless. There was also
some satisfaction to it; he had told de Lara that he believed her maternal
instincts to be stronger than those of the horrible memory the boy embodied. He
had known her well. Still, he knew she needed to calm down before he took her to
see the boy.  He didn’t think it would bode well for either of them if she
affectionately attacked the lad and scared him off.  He grasped her face gently
and kissed her.

“Come along,” he said softly.

It was a struggle to get down the
spiral stairs; Joselyn was behind him, moving faster than he was, and he swore
she would have run him down in her haste had he not had a good hold of her. 
When they reached the entry level, he took her into the small solar where he
had taken her the first time they had met. This was the room where they had
become acquainted with dark and short words to one another.  He forced her to
sit on a stool near the hearth as he took a flint stone and sparked some life
into a bit of dry kindling. In little time, a warm fire was growing.  When he
was certain the blaze would not flare out, he turned to his wife.

She was perched on the stool,
gazing at him expectantly. He put a massive palm over her hands folded in her
lap.

“I will bring the boy to you,” he
said. “I want you to stay here and think calmly on what you are going to say to
him.”

She nodded, trying to think on
his words but realizing she was too excited to adequately do so. She didn’t
want to say the wrong thing. As he stood up to leave, she grabbed his fingers.
“I do not think I can be calm or emotionless when I speak with him,” she said,
her gaze suddenly imploring. “Do you think… that is, would you tell him for me?
I think you would do a better job of it than I can at the moment.”

His cornflower blue eyes
twinkled. “I will tell him if that is your wish.”

“It is.”

He simply nodded, squeezed her
hand, and quit the room.  Joselyn heard his footsteps fade away, taking a deep
breath and struggling to compose herself.  As the fire snapped in the hearth
and the room warmed, all she could do was wait for the moment she had dreamed
of for eleven years. But she had never dreamed it would come about under these
circumstances, not in her wildest fantasies. Closing her eyes, she bowed her
head and thanked God yet again for Stephen of Pembury.

In the dark dustiness of the
bailey, Stephen made his way across the dirt towards the great gatehouse of
Berwick. He glanced upwards, noting the sentries on the battlements and the
faint light from the torches illuminating their way. All was quiet for the most
part as he entered a small room on the ground floor of the gatehouse where the
sentries usually congregated on cold nights. There was a hearth, a small table
and little else.  As soon as he entered the room which, with his bulk was no
easy feat, he came face to face with a young boy seated at the table.

He would have known his wife’s
eyes anywhere, for the boy most definitely had them.  Big, pale blue eyes gazed
up at him anxiously and Stephen had to swallow his momentary shock; the boy
also possessed his wife’s fine features and he actually stared at the lad a
moment, dumbfounded by the sight. He was the spitting image of Joselyn.  The
child had dark auburn hair, long around his ears, and as he stood up, Stephen
noticed that he was already taller than his mother.  He was a big, healthy
lad.  Stephen took a deep breath before speaking.

“You are Cade?” he asked.

The boy nodded. “I am, my lord,”
he replied. 

“I am Stephen. You will come with
me.”

“Aye, my lord.” The boy’s
handsome features twisted somewhat. “May I ask a question, my lord?”

“What is it?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Stephen suddenly realized how it
must look to the child; a big man came to take him from virtually the only home
he had ever known, without explanation, and brought him to an unfamiliar castle
with strangers all around.  Now another big stranger was making demands. If the
boy was frightened, he didn’t show it, which pleased Stephen immensely.

“Nay, lad,” he motioned for the
boy to follow. “Gather your belongings and come with me.”

Cade scooped up his measly
satchel and did as he was told.  He scampered after Stephen, walking very
quickly to match Stephen’s big strides.  As Stephen strolled back to the keep,
Cade was fascinated by his surroundings. Ettrick Castle was not nearly as big
as Berwick.  He was distracted by the dogs upon the battlements for a moment
and had to run to catch up with Stephen as the man drew near the keep. 

Once inside the cool, dark keep,
Stephen opened the first door they came to and ushered Cade inside.  It was dark
but for a small fire in the hearth. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Cade
realized there was a young woman in the room, gazing back at him with eyes as
wide as the heavens.  One look at Cade and she suddenly burst into tears. While
Cade was afraid he had done something to warrant such a thing, the massive
knight closed the door to the solar and went to kneel beside the weeping woman.

Cade watched curiously, with some
trepidation, as Stephen put his enormous arm around the woman’s shoulders and
kissed her on the temple.  Then the knight looked at him.

“As I said, my name is Stephen,”
he said quietly. “I am Baron Lamberton, Guardian Protector of Berwick.  This is
my wife, the Lady Joselyn.”

Cade was not sure how to react,
so he simply bowed because he didn’t know what else to do.  But his gesture
caused the lady to weep harder and he watched, wide-eyed, as Stephen comforted
her.

“Cade,” Stephen began as gently
as he could. “What do you remember about your childhood?”

Cade cocked his head. “Childhood,
my lord?”

“When you were very small. What
is your earliest memory?”

Cade blinked his big blue eyes
thoughtfully. “I… I remember being with the nuns,” he said, having no idea why
the knight was asking such questions. “I remember being in the gardens and eating
carrots out of the ground. Is that what you mean?”

Stephen smiled faintly. “Aye,” he
replied. “And your parents? Do you know anything about them?”  

Cade shook his head, his deep
auburn hair glistening in the flame. “Nay, my lord. I never knew my parents. I
was told they died. That is why I went to live with the nuns. Why do you ask?”

By this time, Joselyn had stopped
crying and she was gazing back at the boy with warmth and gentleness.  He was
very well spoken.  Stephen glanced at her before continuing the conversation,
noting the expression on her face. She was in love with the boy already.  He
continued carefully.

“I ask because the nuns were
mistaken, Cade,” he said softly. “Your parents are not dead.”

Cade’s expression washed with
disbelief and then confusion. “They are not dead?”

Stephen shook his head. “Nay,” he
replied. “Does this displease you?”

The boy had to think about it. He
scratched his head, his brow wrinkling up into a frown. “I…I do not know,” he
said honestly. “You say they are not dead?”

“Nay.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because Lady Joselyn is your
mother.”

Cade’s focus was riveted to
Joselyn, who struggled not to burst into tears again.  She smiled timidly for
lack of a better reaction as the boy stared at her, she thought, with some horror. 
After an eternity of silence and uncertain staring, Cade finally lowered his
gaze and seemed to shrink away.

“I do not have a mother, my
lord,” he turned for the door, unable to look at them, terrified by these
confusing strangers. “Can I please go home? I want to go back to Ettrick.”

Joselyn looked at Stephen with
horror but Stephen was fixed on the frightened, disoriented young man. He moved
away from Joselyn and went to stand next to Cade, who was by now struggling not
to cry. The boy’s head was lowered, his hair hanging over his eyes. Stephen
cleared his throat softly.

“I realize this is a surprise,
Cade,” he said softly. “You have been alone your entire life and suddenly a
stranger says she is your mother.   But you must not judge so harshly; it is
not that your mother wished to be separated from you. What happened was out of
her control.   She loves you now and has always loved you.”

Big, fat tears rolled down Cade’s
cheeks and splattered onto the dusty floor.  Stephen knelt down beside the boy,
feeling genuine sorrow for him. 

“I am sorry that you are upset by
this,” he murmured. “It was not our intention to upset you but I am not sure
there was any simple way to tell you this news.”

The boy just stood there as big
tears rolled off his face.   He was struggling so hard to be brave, wiping
furiously at his cheeks as if angry at the tears for falling.  He clutched his
satchel to his chest, holding silent for quite some time as the news sank deep.

“I want to go home,” he whispered
tightly.

“I would like for you to stay and
hear me out. Will you do this?”

Cade shook his head, struggling
not to sob. “I do not want to hear anymore. Please let me go.”

Stephen sighed faintly, not
daring to look at his wife. He was afraid to see the anguish in her eyes.  “Please,
Cade,” he said gently. “Please let me finish. This is important.”

Cade just stood there, holding
his satchel against him as if it was a shield to protect him.  He was
disoriented and frightened. But there was also a small part of him that was
very, very curious and, more than that, desperately hurt. He didn’t even know
why, but he was hurt.

“W-why?” he finally whispered.

“What do you mean?” Stephen asked
softly.

Cade continued to silently weep,
silently wipe at his wet eyes. “If she is my mother, why did I go live with the
nuns?”

Stephen looked at Joselyn then;
surprisingly, she was composed. She sat with her hands folded in her lap,
looking imploringly at Stephen in response to Cade’s question.  Stephen sighed
faintly as he turned back to the boy.

“Because your father is dead and
your mother was too young and too ill to tend you.” It was a sweet and noble
lie. “She never stopped loving you, Cade.  But she knew that the nuns could
take much better care of you than she could. She loved you so much that she had
to make a very hard decision that was best for you.”

Cade tried not to sob, fighting
so hard to be strong.  Watching the young man struggle just about broke
Stephen’s heart; he was not beyond such compassion.  Cade kept wiping at his
damp face, trying hard to compose himself as he finally turned and looked at
Joselyn.  She returned his gaze with a surprising show of strength and
composure.

“You should have kept me,” the
boy suddenly hissed, though it was without force. “I am strong. I could have worked
when I was old enough. You did not have to send me away where no one would love
me.”

Stephen watched his wife’s
reaction very carefully, hoping she would not crack, but the most she did was
nod as if to agree.

“I was very ill when you were
born,” she told the child. “I was also only twelve years old, just a year older
than you are. I was very young, Cade. I did what I thought was best so that you
would always have food in your mouth and a roof over your head.  Please
understand… understand that I loved you so much that I would do anything to
ensure you had a comfortable life. To have kept you would have been selfish
because there was no way I could have provided for you on my own. I loved you
so much that I had to give you to someone who could take care of you.”

It was not exactly the truth but
Joselyn was following Stephen’s lead; she was not sure Cade would understand
how he really ended up at the abbey. Perhaps it was best to spare him some
things. By this time, Cade’s tears were fading as he stared at the woman who
looked a good deal like him.  The pale blue eyes studied her carefully as he
struggled to accept what he was being told.

“You were only twelve years old
when I was born?” he asked, almost suspiciously.

Joselyn nodded. “Aye.”

“I will be twelve years old in
two months.”

Joselyn couldn’t hold back the
smile. “I know; on the fifth day of the month.”

Cade’s eyes widened briefly. “You
know my day of birth.”

She laughed softly. “Of course I
do.”

Oddly, that small gesture seemed
to convince him. This whirlwind of a day that had brought stunning news still
had his head spinning, but he wanted to believe. He truly did. His tears
vanished as his gaze lingered on Joselyn a moment longer before turning to
Stephen.  By now, the knight had risen from his crouched position and Cade had
to crane his neck back to look the man in the face.  He was positively
enormous.

“You told me that my parents were
not dead,” he said,” yet you also told me that my father died.  I do not
understand.”

Stephen could see that Cade was
an intelligent, thoughtful boy. He liked him already.  “It was the truth,” he
told him. “Your real father is dead, but since I am the lady’s husband, I am
now your father.  Both of your parents are living and would like it very much
if you would consider living with them for a time. We would like to be your
family, Cade, if you will allow. I know it is a lot to ask after all these
years, but perhaps you will consider it.”