Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (41 page)

Kynan put up his hands. “Jo-Jo,
ye must stop….”

Joselyn suddenly balled a fist
and thrust it into his face. “Deny me again and I will beat you within an inch
of your life!”

Kynan’s eyebrows lifted. “So ye
threaten me, ye little chicken? ‘Tis about time ye showed yer backbone.”

She took a swing at him and he
dodged it, laughing.  Then he grabbed her fists and stilled her, turning her
around to the wall.  But Joselyn was still struggling, determined to punch him
in the nose, when she suddenly caught sight of something massive on the floor.
She would not have paid attention to it has she not noticed a boot. It took her
a moment to realize she was looking at Stephen and all struggling came to a
halt.

With a whimper, she raced around
the table, knocking it over in her haste, and falling to her knees beside her
husband. Stephen was sleeping heavily and it didn’t take her long to see that
he had been badly beaten; his handsome face was cut and bruised, and his lower
lip was swollen.   Tears of horror, of relief, of joy popped from her eyes as
she gently put her hands on his face. He was warm in her hands, alive, but most
definitely injured.  Then the sobs came.

They were deep and pitiful. 
Kynan knelt beside her, his hand on her back as he tried to give her some comfort.

“I’m sorry I couldna prevent
this, Jo-Jo,” he muttered. “They had him tied tae the stocks for three days,
leaving him without food or water.   I brought him in here but I have not
tended his wounds. I dunna know how badly he’s been hurt.”     

Joselyn had never been so
distraught.  Other than his death, it was her worst nightmare come to life. She
leaned down, kissing Stephen’s face, tasting her tears on his cheeks. But even
as she wept at the sight of him, she realized that the man needed help. Tears
and sorrow would not heal him. He had tended her before with his vast medical
knowledge and although she didn’t know a tremendous amount about healing, it
was time for her to return the favor. Stephen needed her help and she was
determined to give it.  She tried very hard to stop her tears, wiping her face
with her hand.

“Our chamber is on the third
floor,” she told her cousin. “Stephen’s possessions should still be there
including his medicine bag. ‘Tis a big, black leather satchel with all sorts of
mysterious things in it. You must bring it to me immediately.”

Kynan nodded, rising to his feet.
“What else do ye need?”

In truth, she really didn’t
know.  She rattled off a few things in a panic. “Water and wine, I suppose. And
bring me any bed linens you can find, if your men have not stolen them
already.  He needs to be made more comfortable.”

Kynan was already moving. “Bolt
the door when I have left. Dunna answer it for anyone but me.”

Joselyn jumped up and did as she
was told, throwing the bolt when he left and then swiftly returning to Stephen.
She struggled not to cry as she ripped off her gloves and pulled off her
cloak.  The gloves went onto the floor and her cloak went over Stephen to cover
him.  She put her hands on his face, kissing his cheeks.

“Stephen?” she whispered,
struggling not to crack. “Can you hear me, my angel?”

He drew in a deep, long breath
and she tried again. “Stephen, ‘tis me. Open your eyes, my angel. Open them and
look at me.”

He did. But he stared at her for
almost a full minute without reacting.  Joselyn peered with concern at the
cornflower blue eyes; he didn’t appear to see anything at all. His eyes were
simply open, staring into space and unmoving.  She was growing scared.

“Stephen?” she whispered. “Can
you see me?”

He suddenly blinked and the eyes
came into focus, staring at her as if absolutely horrified. His pale face
tightened.

“Joselyn?” he repeated, raspy.
“Is… is it really you?”

She smiled, the tears returning
full-force. “Aye,” she leaned down, kissing his parched lips. “’Tis me, my
angel. I am here.”

Since his right wrist was broken,
he could only grip her with his left hand.  The cornflower blue eyes were wide
with astonishment.

“I thought I was dreaming,” he
rasped. “I saw you but thought it was my mind playing tricks.”

She shook her head, falling
against him and trying to hold him. But he grunted as she came down on him and
she startled, recoiling at the sound. 

“I am so sorry,” she gasped, her
expression creased with pain.  “I did not mean to hurt you.”

He grunted again, shifting
slightly and reaching out to grasp her with his left arm. “You did not,
sweetheart,” he lied for her benefit. “But I would like to know what you are
doing here. You are supposed to be at Forestburn.”

He sounded much calmer than he
felt about it, rather proud that his horror and shock hadn’t come blasting out
at her.  Dazed, muddled and in utter anguish, he could only think of his wife
and her unwelcome, yet welcome, appearance.  He was thrilled, confused and
terrified at the same time.

“I was,” she pressed against him
as much as she dared so she would not hurt him. “But Kenneth escaped Berwick
and came to tell us what had happened.”

There was some relief for him in
her statement. “Ken is unharmed?”

She nodded. “He is fine,” she
replied. “Tate sent me to take you away from here.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow at her.
“
Tate
sent you?” he repeated, extraordinarily unhappy at the news. “He
and I are going to have words about this and not pleasant ones. I cannot begin
to describe how displeased I am at the moment.”

Her warm expression faded and she
wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. “You will not be angry with him,”
she told him. “He would not have asked it of me if there had been another way.
You must trust that we have a plan for this.”

“That is nonsense,” he hissed. “I
cannot believe he would play with your life in such a way.”

Joselyn put her hand on his
cheek. “He is not playing with my life,” she insisted. “Moreover, I would have
come with or without him. I could not sit back while my kin holds you prisoner.
I had to come. Do you not understand, husband?  I love you and would do
anything to help you. Surely you know that about me by now.”

He did, but he was still
agitated.  “I have always trusted Tate with my life and, consequently, your
life as well. That is why I sent you to Forestburn. I feel as if I have been
betrayed.”

Joselyn sighed. “It was not easy
for him to make the decision,” she said, feeling as if she was defending de
Lara. “Kenneth was deeply opposed to it; in fact, I saw him arguing with Tate
quite strongly. Even Toby was opposed; she threatened to hide me from her
husband.  But Tate said something that caused them both to reconsider their
stance; he said that that Toby saved him from Roger Mortimer once and that
women are stronger than we know.  He believes I can do this and I am strong
with his confidence. Do not weaken me with your anger.”

Stephen’s building rage abruptly
cooled.  He touched his wife’s head, feeling her soft hair beneath his hand. It
was the most wonderful sensation in the world and he thanked God that he was
given another chance to touch her regardless of the circumstances.

“Your strength is not in
question,” he murmured. “Simply de Lara’s sanity.”

She pursed her lips at him in
irritation. “Stephen, I do not want our first words in weeks to be cross ones.
I am doing exactly what you would do if the situation were reversed. I am going
to do all I can to get you out of this place.”

Stephen felt himself folding,
resigned because he knew there was nothing he could do about it.  “I do not
want our first words in weeks to be cross, either,” he murmured. “But you
should not have come back.  You were safe at Forestburn and that thought has
kept me alive.  Now that you are here, my worries for you are overwhelming.”

She leaned down and kissed him
gently. “I know,” she whispered. “But as the daughter of Alexander Seton, the
last man to hold command over Scots at Berwick, my word carries weight. I am
going to demand you be released to my custody.”

Stephen stared at her a moment before
sighing faintly. “They will not do it,” he breathed. “I am the Guardian
Protector of Berwick.  They mean to make an example out of me.”

She knew what he meant but
refused to accept it, shaking her head so hard that her hair came loose. “Nay,”
she insisted strongly. “They are not going to do anything to you. They will
release you and I am going to take you out of this place.”

Stephen looked at her, unable to
refute her.  It would do no good.  He knew the truth of it and she did not. 
When he saw tears in her eyes again, he reached up with both arms and pulled
her down to him, holding her against his battered torso.  Joselyn clung to him
and wept, holding him tightly.  But she quickly composed herself, knowing her
tears would not help him. She was focused on making him well enough to leave
and she could not do that if she fell apart at every turn.  Pulling herself up,
she wiped her face.

“Now,” she tried to sound
confident and in charge. “Kynan is bringing your medicament bag. How badly are
you injured?”

He wriggled his eyebrows. “I have
several broken ribs,” he said, trying not to make it sound as bad as he felt.
“And my right wrist is broken. Other than that, I can move my arms and legs
adequately.”

Shocked at the assessment, she
went immediately for his wrist.  It was grossly swollen and she gingerly
inspected it. “Can you move your fingers?”

“Barely.”

“What can I do to help you?”

He sighed faintly, thinking on
how he would treat the injury. “If at all possible, it would do well to find a
length of board or a small branch to use as a wrist brace,” he told her.  “As
for my ribs, the only thing to do is wrap my torso tightly until they heal.”

“I shall find something to brace
your wrist with,” she said, bolting up and hunting around for a piece of
kindling.   But there was no kindling to be found and her focus suddenly fell
on the turned-up table.  She grasped one of the legs.  “Will this do?”

Stephen turned to see what she
was looking at. “It should.”

Joselyn was about to start
bashing the table around when a knock sounded at the door.   She raced to it.

“Who is it?” she demanded.

“Open the door,” Kynan told her.

Joselyn threw the bolt and Kynan
entered, carrying Stephen’s familiar black bag.  With Joselyn hovering behind
him, he laid it down next to Stephen.

“The bag has been strewn about,”
he informed him. “I tried tae recover what I could but I dunna know if I got it
all.”

Stephen simply nodded; there was
not much he could do about it and tried not to think about the precious
ingredients that may have been lost. What mattered now was ingesting something
to ease the pain he was feeling.  Only then would he be able to think more
clearly.

“My thanks,” he said, peering at
the bag. “Now we shall see how great a physic I truly am if I can heal myself.”

Joselyn cocked her head. “But I
am here, my angel. I will heal you if you tell me what to do.”

He smiled faintly at her, the
eager desire to help, the unselfish risks that she had already taken for him. 
He thought briefly on the horrific tale Kynan had told him, the depth of
Alexander Seton’s debauchery, but he didn’t dwell on it.  If anything, it
seemed to underscore what a truly amazing woman he had married, her ability to
give and love after the horror she had been dealt in life.  He didn’t think it
possible that he could love her any more, but he did.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he said
softly. “Listen carefully to what I tell you and you will probably be a better
physic than I am.”

She smiled brightly as the
magical process of Stephen’s healing began.

***

By evening, Stephen had been
cleaned up, wrapped, fed again and plied with mysterious medicaments from his
bag.   Kynan had lugged down the straw mattress that was on their bed up in the
third floor chamber and they lay it on the floor of the solar, moving Stephen
on to it so he would be more comfortable.   He seemed to breathe better sitting
up so they wedged the mattress into the corner and propped him up.  Feeling
better than he had in days, Stephen ate again when Kynan brought around bread,
mutton and beans, and very cheap ale.

As Joselyn snuggled next to her
husband propped against the wall, Kynan debated how much to tell of what had
occurred on his trip from the kitchen to the keep.  He opted for all of it
because sooner or later, the situation would take a turn and it would be best
if they were both prepared.   As Joselyn slowly fed Stephen a slab of bread
covered in mutton gravy and beans, Kynan pulled up a stool next to them.

“Ye’ve done nothing but eat all
day,
Sassenach
,” he quipped.

Stephen lifted a dark eyebrow. “I
have not eaten for three days. I have much to make up for.”

“Ye eat enough for me army.”