Gayle Callen (25 page)

“Do you know where he has gone?” Reynold asked.

Katherine winced as her father gritted his teeth. “We will speak in private, Brother.”

Their gazes clashed as she held her breath. Reynold finally took her arm. Lord Durham spurred his horse forward. Before Katherine could object, she was lifted onto her father’s lap.

“Rolf,” he said to his nearest man, “take the monk up behind you.”

The room Katherine’s father had procured was on the second floor of a respectable inn. A large curtained bed took up one corner, and rugs instead of straw covered the floor. Chairs surrounded a bare trestle table.

To avoid her father’s suspicious stare, Katherine wandered to the window and pushed open the shutters. A fountain bubbling with water occupied the center of a shaded garden. She sighed, wishing she could feel as peaceful as the garden looked.

“Katherine,” the earl said, and she turned to face him. “You shall remain here until I return. ’Tis not safe on the road—” he nodded sarcastically at Reynold, “—as you have pointed out.”

“Reynold but protected me.”

“You would not have needed protection had you remained within James’s walls. But you did not have a choice in this matter.”

His unconcealed hostility focused on Reynold, who straightened as if he faced his own military commander.

“Lord Durham, although I regret my actions, I deemed them necessary.”

The earl threw up his hands. “Christ’s blood, what is going on here?” he demanded.

She took a deep breath, then came forward and touched her father’s arm. “Those men did not kidnap me for ransom. I knew too much. The lady Eleanor—”

His face flushed.

“—overheard some of your friends plotting to betray King Richard and side with Henry Tudor.”

He went white, then after giving Reynold a quick glare, turned his full attention back to Katherine. “Why did you not speak to me? All of this over a simple misunderstanding?”

“No, Fattier, I speak the truth,” she said gently. “The new maidservant overheard Eleanor and me. I think she betrayed us to the traitors.”

“Katherine, ’tis too harsh a word!”

“They could have had me killed, but they did not. Unfortunately, they chose to hide me near a monk who could not ignore a crime.”

She smiled at Reynold, then realized her mistake when the earl scowled.

“Father,” she continued quickly, “do you understand why I could not return home? The kidnappers would have been waiting for me. Besides, your life was in danger! What if people thought you were involved?”

His shoulders bent lower, and for a terrible moment, he looked truly old. “My daughter, you risked your life over my foolish reputation?”

“Don’t say you are unimportant, Father! You mean everything to me.” Her voice caught and she bit her lip. “Please forgive Reynold his actions of the previous days. He knew how important it was for me to finish what I started. You never expected anything of me. For once I wanted to do something…worthy of you.”

Reynold could take no more. He hated the fact that Katherine thought herself unworthy of her parents’ love. He wanted to take out his anger on Lord Durham’s face. How dare he let her think no one believed her story of the monk’s attack.

Reynold took a step forward, his fists clenched. But the earl suddenly enveloped his daughter in a hug so tight Reynold could hear the breath leave her lungs.

“Katherine, my dear child, you have nothing to prove to me. You are a good daughter,” he whispered in a choked voice. “I wish your mother and I had been better parents.”

Katherine burst into tears.

“There now, child,” the earl said gruffly, holding her away from him. “We have work to do. You mustn’t get yourself upset.”

Still crying, she turned and buried her face in Reynold’s tunic. Keeping his arms to his sides, Reynold looked from Katherine’s blond head into the shocked face of her father.

“K
atherine,” Reynold said. “Perhaps you should tell your father the names of the traitors.” For one insane moment, he thought maybe she would confess her feelings and free them of this horrible silence.

She stiffened and immediately stepped away from him. Reynold gritted his teeth.

“Father, I—”

“Just tell me the names, child,” Lord Durham said, his voice unemotional.

Reynold knew the man was no fool. Yet he was thankful for Katherine’s sake that her father was not going to pursue what he’d just seen. Reynold didn’t think she was ready to face the truth.

Quietly, Katherine recited the three names which had caused her so much trouble. “The Earl of Northumberland, Lord Stanley, and the Duke of Suffolk.”

At each name, her father flinched as if struck. When she was finished, the earl closed his eyes
and bowed his head. Suddenly he slammed his fist hard onto the table, sending it crashing to the floor. If he was acting, he was performing well.

“My friends,” he whispered in an agonized voice, then whirled away with a clatter of armor to gaze out the window. “You overheard them, Katherine?”

“No, sir, the lady Eleanor did. Then I was kidnapped, so I knew she must have heard the truth of it.”

“You told all of this to James, but not to me?”

Katherine took a step closer to Lord Durham’s forbidding back.

“Father, I had hoped he would take care of it. And I did not know you would soon be arriving.”

“Did James send a message to King Richard?”

“He did, my lord,” Reynold replied. “But he told me it was merely a ruse to pacify your daughter. The men had no true intentions of approaching the king. I could not let this go. Katherine would never forgive herself if—”

Lord Durham turned and scowled at Reynold. “And you know my daughter’s mind so well?”

Reynold didn’t dare look away. “We have spent many days in conversation. At first, Lady Katherine refused to trust me—why should she? She was frightened of the man who was following us.”

“The kidnapper?” the earl asked, his grizzled face reddening.

Katherine slipped her hand into his arm. “Time and again Reynold protected me. Do not judge him harshly. I, too, was angry when he stole me
from his brother’s castle. Yet the battle approaches, and I don’t think Reynold and I can succeed alone. Will you help us?”

Lord Durham patted his daughter’s hand. “I will take your message, child.”

“But what if the king thinks—”

“I will convince him of my innocence. And I will tell him of my daughter’s bravery.”

Katherine felt tears sting her eyes. She had always known she was right, that her father had no part in this treason. He clapped his hands loudly and his squire poked his head into the room. Owen Fielding, the son of a neighboring baron, had been fostering with the Berkeleys for many a year. The young man had been following Katherine around for as long as she could remember.

“Bring us dinner, Fielding. Then seek out our master armorer for Welles, here. He shall accompany us to the king. We have much to discuss,” he added, glancing at Reynold from beneath bushy brows.

Katherine stood aside while a flurry of servants set silver plates on spotless tablecloths. Towels and utensils and even rare glass goblets from home soon followed. She ate the morning meal with Reynold and her father, trying to decide where her feelings lay.

On one hand, she was relieved that her father knew the truth, that he believed her and would take her warning to the king. Yet—she sighed and chewed her bread slowly. Her father and Reynold were busy discussing the route to the king’s camp
at the Bradshaws, and she was alone with her droughts. In a sense the men had already left her. Her part in her last great adventure was over.

Katherine dutifully smiled at Owen who served her fish soup, but her thoughts were anything but happy. Resigned, aye, mat would be the best word. Perhaps she should disguise herself, follow the men to the king? But what good would that do? Her father could take her message more quickly. Her presence would be useless.

She might as well get used to that. When she married James, she would be his newest castle decoration, another servant to keep his household running smoothly and his bed warmed at night. But would he love her? Would he share his day and his thoughts with her? Could he be at all like his brother?

Katherine suddenly met Reynold’s gaze and tears stung her eyes. He was leaving her. No longer would he warm her at night, or make her laugh by day. He had insisted he would not return to the monastery. But what would James do to him? Would he use his brother in his own army, where Katherine would have to sit at the same table with him every day? She couldn’t imagine this ache in her chest ever dissipating with time. She tore her gaze from Reynold’s and bent her head over the soup. All the danger, all the excitement, everything she felt for Reynold—she had to put it behind her.

Through each course of food, Katherine could only manage a few bites. She knew the men
needed their strength, for the battle might be joined when they arrived. She wanted to speak to Reynold, to thank him for his help and his comfort, but her father controlled the conversation. Then the Berkeley armorer arrived, and he and the earl walked around Reynold as if he were a horse about to be bought at auction. The armorer ran his hands across Reynold’s arms and chest, hemmed and hawed, then admitted he might have a suit of armor to fit.

“But don’t expect comfort, boy,” he said ominously.

Caught up in the fever for battle, they left Katherine alone, without even a wave of farewell. Her gaze took in the comfortable room, suddenly so confining. How long would they keep her here? What if something dreadful happened and they didn’t return?

Katherine straightened her shoulders and angrily forced away the terror of helplessness. She refused to fall back to being a little girl who needed constant protection. Should the worst befall her, she would survive. Hadn’t she proved she was capable of that?

Her father’s squire silently returned and began to clear the table. Katherine remembered him as a frightened boy, barely nine, come to train under the Earl of Durham. Now he was taller than she, almost a man at sixteen. Hadn’t she taught him to dance? Would he face his first battle today? Fondly, she touched his arm.

“Owen, can you tell me where my father has gone?”

“To the stables behind the inn, my lady,” he said, sparing her a glance as he hurried through his task.

“Thank you, Owen. Fare well today and make me proud.”

He looked up at her, his face red, his eyes searching hers. “I’ll defend your father’s life with my own, Lady Katherine, if God wills.”

“God’s will is for you to return safe and whole.” Katherine remembered Owen’s love of the tournament, his belief in a knight’s chivalry, something so many noblemen had forgotten. She looked down at her peasant gown and sighed. “If I had a token to give you, I would.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Lady Katherine, save your tokens for your future husband. I am pleased to take your good wishes into battle and perhaps—” He caught one of her hands in his and pressed his lips to her fingers. “—a kiss, my lady, for luck.”

And men he was gone. How many men would be killed today? Would her father arrive in time to stop the carnage? Could Reynold, for all his strength and skill, be pierced by a crossbow’s dart or the clever thrust of a sword?

Before she could think what she meant to do, Katherine ran out the door and down the stairs, through the common room. She reached the street and came to a halt.

Owen had said the stables were in the rear. She
fled to the far side of the inn and skidded to a halt. Her father’s army sprawled before her, a mass of men laughing, spitting, checking their weapons, adjusting their clothing. She could see the foot soldiers, the common men from her father’s villages, each with a long-handled pike so deadly to a knight’s horse. The longbowmen in their leather jerkins carried bows taller than themselves. Huge chargers danced and snorted and tossed their heads when the heavy knights mounted. The sun dazzled her eyes as it reflected off their polished armor and wove through the silks of their banners.

How would she find her father?

A bearded archer swung an arm around her waist and pressed his face into her hair. “Come to wish us a safe journey, lass?”

A voice hissed, “’Tis Lady Katherine.”

Around them silence spread like ripples in a pond. The archer stiffened, then released her, his eyes wide in terror. “My lady—” he began, but Katherine interrupted him.

“Good sir, I wish you and all your comrades a safe journey. Have you seen my father?”

He nodded swiftly. “Let me escort you to the stables, my lady.”

She took his arm as if he were a noble come to court her. She heard gruff voices whispering her identity as masses of soldiers gave way before her. They bowed their heads and she gave them her best smile, though her lips trembled with suppressed tears. She inwardly berated herself for
worrying about the end to her grand adventure, when all these brave men might die.

At the stable, she turned and waved to her father’s army. They cheered and called her name. Laughing, she blew kisses from her fingertips then turned and stepped into the stables.

The air was immediately cooler, the light dim after the brilliant sunshine. Soon enough her eyes adjusted and she saw her father, Reynold, and the armorer surrounded by pieces of scattered armor. Reynold had changed into a loose shirt and hose. Katherine was so used to seeing him as either a monk or a peasant, mat he seemed like a different person. When Owen came running in to take his place with the armorer, Lord Durham stood back to watch as the breastplate and back place were buckled to Reynold’s torso.

He was preparing to go to war, and Katherine might never see him again. Their gazes suddenly met and locked. She could no more look away than she could will herself to stop breathing. The squire and the armorer attached the gorget to protect his neck, buckled on the pauldron and vambrace to cover his arms. Katherine watched Reynold being transformed before her and she was frightened, frightened of what the armor had to protect him from. He had not been able to train in the last eight months. Would his strength give out?

His amethyst gaze bore into hers as the men buckled padded plates around his legs and locked his feet into the sabatons, the steel boots. The armorer handed Reynold a helmet and gauntlets,
then swiftly began to pack away his supplies. Katherine couldn’t move, locked in Reynold’s heated gaze as if he physically clasped her to him.

She distantly heard her father say, “Welles, come along,” as he walked outside, followed by his armorer. He did not see her in the shadows. She was alone with Reynold, her knight, her protector. She was drawn towards him, and with one arm he pulled her against the jointed plates on his chest.

“Reynold,” she whispered, dropping her head back, willing him to kiss her no matter who might see.

His mouth took hers with the rough kiss of a soldier who might not return. Katherine parted her lips and met his tongue with her own, moaning softly into his mouth. She clasped his warm head to her, feeling the damp hair at his neck, knowing she could never touch him again. When Reynold returned, she would go to his brother.

Tears started in her eyes and she gentled the kiss, hoping he could drink somehow of her strength.
Please, God, bring him home safe
, she thought, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in prayer.

“You are crying?” Reynold asked against her lips.

Katherine shrugged, inhaling his breath, her forehead touching his. She wanted to beg him to come back to her, but instead whispered, “You will be careful?”

“You know I am,” he replied, men gazed at her with deadly earnestness. “I am frightened for you,
Katherine. I don’t wish to leave you alone. What if this is the plan, to lure me away and leave you unprotected—”

“Shhh,” she whispered, covering his lips with her fingers. “I will be fine. I’m sure my father is leaving men to guard me.”

“But what if Lord Durham—”

“No more doubts,” she insisted fiercely. “My father would never hurt me. I’m trusting you to protect him as you have me.”

“I will do my best,” he said, then looked over her shoulder. “He is ready, Katherine.”

She sighed. She could tell that he had begun to think of other things, to prepare himself for the coming battle. She wanted to kiss him once more, but he released her just before her father approached.

“Welles, Fielding is holding your horse,” he said, giving Reynold a stern look.

Katherine watched helplessly as Reynold nodded to her. He picked up his shield, emblazoned with a crimson lion, and left the stables. The sunlight shone about him and reflected off his armor, until with squinted eyes she could only see him as a stranger bathed in light.

“Katherine.”

She turned to look into her father’s well-worn face. Her heart gave a pang as she realized he was older and slower than Reynold, but might still be fighting this day.

He hesitated over his words, then sighed. “Katherine, you will remain here, with Fielding to guard
you until we return. I only wish I could spare more.”

“But Father, you need all the men you can—”

“You are just as important to me as the king is,” he said gruffly, and Katherine’s eyes began to sting again. Her father seemed to search her face and see directly into her soul. “We have things to discuss when I return, daughter.”

Katherine’s skin chilled even in the summer heat. She had shown too many of her feelings. She bowed her head. “I will do as you wish, Father.”

He patted her shoulders awkwardly, then bent to pick up his helmet and gauntlets. “Go to your room, Katherine. It is dangerous for you to stand here with the common people and watch us leave.”

She gave him a dutiful smile and waved as he mounted his charger. He wheeled the horse towards the front of his small army and suddenly he was no longer old, but a warrior protecting his king.

A horse trotted up beside her, then nuzzled at her shoulder. Katherine turned and wrapped her arms as far around the animal as she could, shutting out the suffocating heat of the day and the sounds of the army departing.