Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (42 page)

“Tread carefully; if I am hungry
enough, you might find yourself on the menu.”

Kynan made a face, sending
Joselyn in to fits of giggles.  Kynan watched his beautiful cousin, knowing he
had never seen her happier.  He wanted to make sure she never knew anything
else.

“Moray’s men know that I have
ye,” he looked at Stephen. “I saw them as I was bringing ye food and they asked
me how ye fared. I told them you were hovering near death and that only time
would tell.  But they are demanding tae see ye.  I told them they could see ye
on the morrow after ye’d had time tae sleep.”

Stephen’s congenial expression
faded. “Did they say what they wanted?”

Kynan exhaled sharply and looked
at his hands, turning them over and inspecting them. “I have heard talk that
they want tae hang ye as Tommy and Willie Seton were hanged,” he replied. “But
at the moment, they are concerned with fortifying their position at the castle.
They fear that Edward will come down around them again, especially with Pembury
a captive.”

All humor was gone from Stephen
and Joselyn’s expressions. Joselyn looked at her husband, her wide-eyed
expression on the verge of tears.  Then she turned back to Kynan.

“Who has said such ridiculous
things?” she hissed.

Kynan cast her a side-long
glance, still picking at his hands. “Moray is in charge,” he replied. “I heard
it from his men.”

Joselyn was growing increasingly
livid. “Who?”

“The knight in command,” Kynan
looked at her, then. “Morgan de Velt.”

Joselyn’s
eyes widened. “De Velt?” she repeated. “He must be our kin, Kynan. My mother
and your mother were a de Velt.  Do you know him?”

Kynan
nodded. “I know of him,” he replied. “He is more English than Scots, hired by
Moray.  The man is powerful and deadly and, I believe, well paid for his
service.”

“He is a mercenary?”

“Aye.”

“I know him,” Stephen spoke up.

Both Joselyn and Kynan looked to
him. “What do you know of him?” Joselyn wanted to know.

Stephen sighed, puffing out his
cheeks. There was resignation in his manner. “Morgan served Roger Mortimer. He
is an enemy of Edward, which explains why he is siding with the Scots. And he
most definitely knows me; he and I have faced each other before in battle. In
fact, that explains how the Scots knew to target me when the walls were
breached. Undoubtedly, Morgan described me to them and told them to disable
me.”

Joselyn was curled up against
him, watching him with wide eyes. “He will want to kill you, then?”

Stephen wriggled his eyebrows.
“It is possible,” he said, looking to Kynan. “I will see de Velt in the morning
and get to the heart of this.”

“Ye might not like it,” Kynan
said softly.

“I already do not like it.”

“Wait,” Joselyn put up her hand
to stop them from continuing along that line of conversation. “Ky, we must get
Stephen out of here. We cannot think of anything but that.”

Kynan nodded. “Ease yerself,
lass,” he told her. “I have already thought of such things.”

“And?” Joselyn demanded.

Kynan grinned, but it was at
Stephen. “Perhaps I’m wondering how yer
Sassenach
will look wearin’
McCulloch tartan.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It hadn’t been as simple a trip
as they had thought.

When de Lara and his men,
including Lady Pembury, had departed Forestburn, Cade and Roman had been
ready.   They had tried to steal a horse but the grooms kept shooing them away;
their only chance had been in an old nag they found tied up near the kitchens,
so they stole the horse and squeezed it out through Forestburn’s postern
gate.   But Forestburn had a moat, so after a very precarious walk around the
walls, they were able to urge the horse up onto the drawbridge and plod across
it when some traffic from the castle distracted the guards.  All in all, they
had been lucky.  They prayed their luck would hold.

Unfortunately for both boys, they
hadn’t much experience in navigating travel. They tried to follow de Lara’s
trail but when it became too muddled up, they had to ask for directions. Three
times.  They spent two nights sleeping in the woods, too fearful to start a
fire.  It had been cold, but not too terribly, and in the morning they jumped
on the nag and kicked the animal into a bumpy trot.

Somewhere during the second day
of travel, they traded clothes with two peasant boys working in a bean field. 
Cade’s clothes had bugs and Roman’s were far too small, but they silently
endured the tribulations they had brought upon themselves.  They considered it
the price to pay for their adventure. Rising early on the dawn of the third
day, they traveled for several hours before finally reaching the outskirts of
Berwick.

The old nag plodded and swayed
along the road, heading into the town from the southwest.  Cade was itching
like crazy and Roman, taking his turn at handling the horse, kept trying to
still him.   The castle, perched on the edge of the river, eventually came into
view. 

It looked broken and beaten as
the boys pulled the nag to halt, gazing at the fortress in the distance.  
Roman finally looked back at Cade.

“So what do we do?” he asked. “Do
you even have a plan?”

Cade didn’t have much of one but
he didn’t want Roman to know. He was older and, therefore, wiser, and he was
determined to hatch a plan that would save Stephen and quite possibly the
entire garrison at Berwick.

“We need to sneak in,” he told
Roman. “If we sneak in and pretend we’re servants, then we can find out where
Sir Stephen is.”

“And then what?” 

Cade made a face at him. “And
then we rescue him.”

Roman looked at the castle and
shrugged. “Okay.”

Cade was glad he hadn’t asked any
more questions.  They climbed off the horse and led it into a wooded area with
a small stream running through it.  There was plenty of grass and water, so
they tied the horse off and trudged back up to the road.   In their peasant
clothing, they looked like just another pair of boys roaming the countryside,
not the son of an Earl and the son of the Guardian Protector of Berwick.  In
fact, Roman tried not to think about his mother, knowing she was probably
frantic with worry. But this adventure was important; he wished he had been
able to tell her.  She would have just told him that he couldn’t go.

So they marched on towards the
castle as the day passed into afternoon, having no idea that Tate and his men
were about a quarter of a mile to the northwest.  Cade and Roman moved into the
town, dodging carts and horses, realizing they were very hungry because the
food they had brought with them ran out that morning.  They had no money, so
Cade thought it would be acceptable to steal what they could since they were on
a rescue mission. He was sure God would forgive them. Clever boys that they
were, Roman distracted a shop keeper by falling in front of his stall and
crying loudly as Cade stole a loaf of bread.

Just about the time Cade
disappeared with the bread, Roman’s crying miraculously stopped and he fled,
meeting up with Cade on the next block and devouring their stolen goods.  Half
running, half walking as they shoved bread into their mouths, they cleared the
town and found the stretch of road that led to the castle.  

Their pace picked up.

***

Stephen had slept all night and
well into the morning, his battered body struggling to heal itself from his
near-deadly beating.  Joselyn, not feeling well in her early pregnancy, was
coming to experience some insomnia and hadn’t fallen asleep until it was nearly
dawn.  So when Stephen awoke, it was to the gentle sound of his wife’s
snoring.  She was snuggled up against him, her face pressed into his chest,
sleeping like the dead.  Stephen didn’t move, smiling at the sound of her
charming snores.  He was so very thankful to be alive and to be with her,
regardless of the circumstances.  Up until yesterday, he was not sure he would
ever experience moments like this again.

He did notice that Kynan was not
in the room with them.  He was not sure if that was a good or a bad sign.  His
mind moved to Morgan de Velt, the mercenary knight who pledged his services at
a high cost. He had fought with Mortimer because the man had heaped praise and
money on him, but his services could have just as easily been bought by
Edward.  All that mattered to de Velt was where the money was coming from.

Stephen knew that his wife’s
mother was a de Velt, but there were quite a few of them this far north.  Their
ancestor, the fierce mercenary Ajax de Velt, had been a warlord back in the
time of Henry the Second, in the dark days when England and Scotland and Wales
were still places of great turmoil and little organization.   He had eventually
married well and had several children, branches of the family that were a
paradox; some were reputable and moral while others, like Morgan, carried on
their ancestor’s mercenary tradition.  But Ajax de Velt had also been known as
a ruthless killer; Morgan could, from what Stephen knew, be the same way.  He
wondered how much knightly courtesy would keep Morgan from making an example
out of him.

So he lay on the mattress with
his wife, holding her close and staring up at the ceiling lost in thought.  He
didn’t even know what time it was, but he knew he was hungry. Perhaps Kynan had
gone to get food.  As he continued to lay still, relaxed and quiet, the door to
the solar creaked opened.

Kynan stood in the doorway, his
hand on the latch as he looked at Stephen.  Stephen caught sight of him in his
peripheral vision and turned slightly to get a better look.  When their eyes
met, Stephen was put on his guard simply by the expression on Kynan’s face.

“Aye,” Kynan said with regret.
“He’s awake.”

Stephen knew he was not talking
to him.  In fact, he gently shook Joselyn awake as boot falls approached and
men began to crowd into the room.  Joselyn awoke with a start but he shushed
her swiftly.

“I am sorry to wake you,” he
whispered. “But we have guests. Please help me to sit up.”

Rubbing her eyes, Joselyn was
instantly full of fear but did as he asked.  She was groggy but tried to stay
calm, taking hold of Stephen’s arm as he sat up, very slowly, and leaned back
against the wall.  By the time Joselyn turned around, three big men were in the
room with Kynan lingering somewhere behind them.   She sat down next to Stephen
and held his hand tightly, her pale blue eyes wide with fright.

The knight standing in the
forefront was not Scots; that much was clear. He was a big man with brown eyes
and dark blond hair that fell to his shoulders.  Huge hands rested at his sides
as his gaze moved over Stephen; so far, he hadn’t even bothered looking at
Joselyn.

“Pembury,” he greeted, his voice
deep and quiet.

Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “De
Velt, I presume?”

”You presume correctly. I see
that you are alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you.”

De Velt actually grinned. “My
apologies,” he replied. “I have been very busy trying to secure Berwick. I
forgot you were out in the yard.”

Stephen had an expression on his
face that let the man know without benefit of words that he knew he was lying.
“I would not expect you to treat a prisoner with honor.”

De Velt’s smile faded as he
studied Stephen, plotting what to say next.  Having only seen Stephen twice in
his life, he knew of Pembury by reputation only, knowing he was one of the more
powerful knights in the arsenal of King Edward and one of the tallest knights
in England.  He had been both pleased and surprised to have captured the man
called Guardian Protector during the siege of Berwick and his commanders had
told him to keep the man alive until they decided what was to be done with
him.  Now the decision was made and that directive had come this morning,
directly from Moray.  The news was not good.

After a moment, de Velt exhaled
wearily and looked around for a chair.  One of his men shoved a stool at him
and he pulled it up, seating his big body heavily. Only then did he look at
Joselyn, curled up against her husband.  He lifted an eyebrow at her.

“What is the wench doing here?”
he asked, not kindly.

Stephen replied before Joselyn
could voice her outrage. “This is not a wench,” he was beginning to sound
perturbed. “This is my wife, the Lady Joselyn de Velt Seton Pembury, and her
father is Alexander Seton. Perhaps you have heard of him.”

De Velt stared at her.  Then he
looked around to the crowd behind him, jabbing a finger at Joselyn.

“Why did no one tell me that she
was here?” he demanded, suddenly bolting up from the stool and using it like a
weapon to crown the man nearest him. “Did no one think to tell me that
Pembury’s wife was here?”

Men were getting smacked around
and Joselyn screamed, pressing herself against Stephen and turning her head
away as one man took the stool in the mouth and blood sprayed.  Stephen put his
enormous hand over her head, holding it against his chest to protect her as de
Velt swung away.   Even Kynan ducked away as de Velt beat his men. But as
swiftly as it started, the violence stopped and de Velt set the stool back
down, reclaiming his seat.