Lords of Darkness and Shadow (105 page)

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Years ago. Kevin and I do not speak much.”

Gilby opened his mouth to reply when a scream startled him; looking over his shoulder, he could see Sheridan racing towards them across the dark bailey. For some reason, his heart suddenly felt very sad. He knew what Sean and Sheridan had gone through to be together and to see it end in this fashion was overwhelmingly depressing.  He looked at Sean.

“Your wife is coming,” he told him.

“I heard.”

Sheridan came upon her husband in a rush; in her torn, stained gown, she moved as if her leg had not been stitched earlier that evening. She fell to her knees beside Sean, her upper torso collapsing on his neck and chest. Gilby wasn’t done with the chest wound yet and had to fend through her hair in order to find his target again. On Sean’s chest, Sheridan wept loudly.

“God, no,” she sobbed. “Sean, you cannot die. Please do not leave me.”

Now that Sheridan was with him, Sean felt a tremendous amount of peace, so much so that his entire body filled with an odd sort of warmth.  He put his arms around her, his face in the top of her head, inhaling her scent and feeling it stoke his strength.   His arms tightened as if to never let her go.

“I am sorry if I have frightened you, sweetling,” he murmured into her hair. “This was certainly not part of my plan.”

Sheridan was beside herself, terrified beyond reason that she was going to lose him.  She raised her head to look at Gilby.

“Please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “Please save him. Please do not let him die.”

Gilby wouldn’t look at her; he couldn’t.  It was becoming far too emotional for his liking. “I am doing all I can, Lady de Lara.”

“How bad is it?”

He did look at her, then. His voice made her blood run cold. ”Bad.”

Sheridan’s hysterics abruptly faded; she didn’t know why, but suddenly, the anguish went beyond tears. It burrowed deep into her chest like a great broadsword, hacking her tender heart to pieces. She knew her tears would not help Sean. She wondered if anything could. Swallowing hard, she gazed into her husband’s white face, stroking his cheek gently and struggling to calm.

“I love you,” she murmured, kissing him tenderly on the lips. “If there is only one thing I can tell you at this moment, it is how much I love you.”

His clear blue eyes glimmered weakly and his hand, cold and clammy, touched her face.

“Never did I think I would live long enough to gaze into the eyes of the woman I love and tell her what is in my heart,” he murmured. “Now that this moment has come, I hardly know what to say. I do not think I can adequately describe what I feel for you.  It goes beyond love, Sheridan. It is something timeless and immortal. I may die, but my love for you will live forever.”

So much for her attempts to remain calm; she couldn’t help the tears that sprang from her eyes, pelting his pallid cheek. She kissed his forehead, his cheek, rubbing her nose against his and feeling his hot breath on her face. 

“You will live,” she whispered. “You will live to raise our children and watch your sons grow into fine, strong men.  The name de Lara will live on and we will grow old together, I swear it.”

He kissed her cheek, her lips. His lips were cold and she struggled against the instinct to burst into tears again. He seemed so very cold.

“I will try,” his voice was faint. “But if I should not be able to keep that vow, then you must promise me something.”

Her lower lip began to tremble and the tears fell faster. “Anything,” she whispered.

Sean suddenly jerked as if he had been struck.  Then, he exhaled heavily, paused, and abruptly resumed breathing. Gilby looked concerned and Sheridan nearly came apart.

“Sean?” she asked, trembling. “What is happening?”

He closed his eyes, patting her arms gently. “I am all right,” he took another deep, ragged breath and resumed. “If I do not make it out of here alive, then know that it is my wish for you to marry de Braose. He is an honorable man and will be good to you.”

Sheridan lost her battle against tears and she began to sob softly. “Do not say such things. You are not going to die.”

“But if I do, I want you to promise me. I will be comforted knowing you will be well taken care of.”

She was struggling against explosive grief. “If that is your wish, I will promise you,” she wept. “But you are going to get well. You are going to come with me to Lansdown and we are going to raise a dozen children.”

He smiled faintly. “I could only be so blessed.”

As Sheridan wept, she suddenly noticed a pair of boots standing on Sean’s other side. She looked up to see Neely gazing down at her with a certain amount of distress.  He was dressed in full battle armor, having broken through the Bell Tower gate along with a thousand other ally soldiers. He had come looking for Sheridan; now he found her.

“Oh, Neely,” she sobbed. “He was trying to take me out of the Tower. Now see what has happened.”

Neely removed his helm and crouched beside de Lara; the man was dying, that much was certain. He had suspected as much as he had come upon the group huddled near the east side of the Tower walls; a massive body supine on the ground with a little man and Sheridan hovering over it. In all, it had been a sobering sight and Neely suddenly forgot about all of the terrible things he was going to say to Sheridan, the anger and jealousy he had felt. For her sake, he had to reach deep inside to find compassion for a man he had long been taught to hate.

“De Lara,” Neely said quietly. “We must get you out of here. We need to move you away from the fighting.”

Sean looked at him.  “You will have to discuss that with the physic. I am under his command at the moment.”

Neely looked at Gilby, who was busily stitching up the deep gouge to Sean’s right side. The old physic waited until he was finished before acknowledging the St. James knight.

“Let me finish with this and then we shall move him,” he said quietly.

Neely nodded his head and stood up. There was nothing left for him to do so he wandered over to where Alys stood with Guy. There was a priest standing with them, muttering last rites for de Lara. Alys was sobbing heavily and Neely put a comforting hand on her shoulder. No matter what the politics or circumstances, for Sheridan’s sake, the wounding of de Lara was still a brutal happening. Somehow they were all united in Sheridan’s grief no matter their individual opinions.

Gilby finally put his things away and moved to Sean’s other side, feeling the man’s neck for his pulse. After a moment of assessing his current condition, he looked at Sheridan.

“If we are going to move him, let us do it now,” he said, looking over at Neely. “Come lend a hand, knight.”

Neely moved to Sean’s left side, gently pushing Sheridan out of the way.  Gilby was far too small of a man to effectively move Sean’s bulk so Father Simon came to his aid, followed by Guy. Guy could hardly lift a fly given his ribs and other injuries, but he was bravely attempting to help. Even Sheridan and Alys jumped in.  It took all five of them to get Sean into a sitting position.  Neely, being the largest of the group, was doing the bulk of the work; he got in behind Sean and lifted him by the armpits. Just as he got Sean half-way to his feet, an armored figure suddenly materialized before them.

William Marshall’s face was grim as he beheld his mighty Shadow Lord. It seemed that beyond his shock he looked rather ill, but he steeled himself admirably. He, too, had entered the breach in the Bell Tower and had, in fact, gone searching for de Lara to congratulate him on a task well done. The Tower had fallen just as they had planned. But he found sorrow instead. In truth, he was not surprised; disappointed, but not surprised. He shoved the old physic out of the way and took hold of Sean’s right arm.

“We must get him out of here,” the Marshall said gravely. “Where are you planning on taking him?”

Gilby gestured to the buildings off to his right.  “Back to his apartments.”

The Marshall shifted Sean’s weight, putting Sean’s enormous arm over his shoulders. “’Tis not safe, Gilby,” he snapped softly. “We must get him out of the Tower.”

Gilby looked at the Marshall, a man he had served for many years. “He’ll not survive a drastic move,” he told him plainly. “He has lost too much blood.”

“He will die if he stays here.”

“He will die if we transport him any lengthy distance.”

By this time, Sheridan was sobbing softly.  She was next to Guy, trying to help support her husband’s weight, but the argument between Gilby and the Marshall was too much for her to take. Sean, scarcely conscious, tried to touch her with the big arm slung across Guy’s shoulders.

“’Tis all right, sweetling,” he mumbled thickly. “Do not weep.”

Sheridan struggled to stop, wiping at her damp cheeks. The group of them managed to half-carry, half-drag Sean for several feet when Gilby suddenly came to a halt. This caused William to bash into him, an irritable snap on his lips. But it died in his throat when he saw the look on Gilby’s face. The old man was looking up at the White Tower.

Several of the king’s guards were pouring from the south entry on the second floor, descending the stairs with weapons drawn. Behind them, delineated in the moonlight, came the small, cloaked figure of the king. The man was surrounded by soldiers and a pair of knights; it was apparent that they had chosen this moment to remove the king from the Tower. The Marshall hissed at Father Simon.

“Get Lady de Lara out of here,” he commanded quietly, authoritatively. “If he sees her he will take her. Guy, go with them. Remove the lady and her sister now!”

Guy didn’t hesitate; he moved from Sean’s side and grabbed Sheridan, who started to struggle. But one word from her husband stopped her.

“Sheridan,” he voice suddenly sounded strong and controlled. “Go with the Guy, sweetling. Go wherever he takes you. I will come for you as soon as I am able.”

She panicked. “But…!”

“Do this for my sake. Please, sweetling. Do it for me.”

Sheridan could see the men coming down from the Tower and she realized that there was no time for her to plead. Not this time. Too many lives depended on her cooperation. The time for separation had come and she was anguished with the thought. Turning swiftly to Sean, she put her hands on his face, convinced that this was to be her last look of the man for all time. No one would have guessed by looking at her that her heart had just exploded into a million painful little pieces.

“I will go,” she murmured.  “Remember how much I love you.”

“And I love you,” he whispered.

“Promise we will be together again.”

“You are my angel and I will be with you, and no other, in this life and beyond.”

“Come on, Sheridan,” Guy was tugging at her urgently. “We must go now.”

She knew that. With a final look to sustain her, she kissed him again and was gone. Sean watched her fade into the shadows near the Flint Tower with her sister, de Braose and the priest. 

This time, it was Sean who wept. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lansdown Castle, Somerset

July, Year of our lord 1215

“Dani, where are you?” Jocelin’s disembodied voice floated upon the warm summer air. “Dani?”

It was July in the lush green countryside of Somerset. The humidity was heavy, both from the River Avon and the not so distant sea, but it was nonetheless a lovely day infused with the scent of summer flowers.

Seated beside the lake just outside the walls of Lansdown, Sheridan lounged comfortably beneath a colorful umbrella with the water licking at her feet. Alys was sitting in the lake, for the weather was too hot for her liking, and the little pup, now grown into a little dog, leapt through the grass chasing imaginary rabbits. At the sound of Jocelin’s voice, Sheridan turned to see him wandering in the tall grass on the rise above the lake.

“Here we are,” she called back to him, waving her hand.

The bishop caught sight of her, partially hidden by a sapling, and made his way down the hill in her direction. Sheridan turned in her chair, facing the lake again and watching the bugs dance upon the waters. To her left was an easel with a half-finished painting of the lake; she wasn’t very good at painting but she enjoyed it. She’d been able to do little else over the past few months as her pregnancy advanced. She was enormous at almost seven months and her mother’s physic said she carried twins. With all of the tumbling and kicking in her belly, she was positive that he was correct.

At her feet, Alys rolled around in the water, playing with the grass at the lake’s edge. Her little sister was still the same after all these months only she had grown up just a little; she seemed more mature somehow, more somber. She no longer believed herself in love with every man she met. Gone were the flighty tendencies and temper tantrums. She lived and breathed for her sister’s comfort. Wars and tragedy had a way of maturing those they touched.

“Do you think Guy will come and visit soon?” she asked her sister as she picked at a blade. “The last time he was here, he said that he would return soon. Do you suppose that he will?”

Sheridan’s thought of de Braose and his constant presence. “I am sure he will be back shortly.”

“He always comes back.”

“Indeed he does.”

Alys cast her sister a sidelong glance as she toyed with the grass. “He loves you so, Dani,” she said softly. “You really should marry him and put him out of his misery.”

Sheridan ignored her sister, turning back to her painting. “You are going to turn into a prune if you stay in that water much longer.”

Alys tossed the grass aside and sat up, splashing water on her arms. “’Tis too hot to get out just yet,” she eyed her sister again. “Dani, do you not want the baby to have a father when it is born? Guy has been very kind to you and he would love this baby as his own. Moreover, you promised Sean that you would marry him.  Do you intend to go back on your promise?”

Sheridan’s jaw began to tick. “I do not wish to discuss this with you.”

Alys suddenly stood up, water cascading off her white thighs. “And why not?” she sloshed through the water towards the shore. “You have avoided speaking with anyone about it for six months. You cannot put it off forever.”

“I can put it off forever if I wish.”

Alys reached the shore. “But this is not healthy for you,” she pleaded. “I know that you do not want to make any decisions until you have confirmation of Sean’s death, but it has been seven months now and no one has seen or heard from the man.  Jocelin has sent missives to the Marshall that have gone unanswered. No one can find Gilby and not even Neely knows what became of Sean after he left him at the Tower. When are you going to come to terms with the fact that Sean is dead and you must move forward with your life?”

Sheridan threw her brush to the ground and stood up as swiftly as her swollen body would allow. Alys sighed heavily as her sister crossed her arms stubbornly.  By this time, Jocelin had joined them and he instantly sensed the tension in the air.  He eyed both girls.

“Dani?” he ventured. “Alys? What is the matter?”

Sheridan refused to look at him; unwinding her arms, she put her hands to the small of her back and wandered towards the lake. Alys watched her walk away with the little dog jumping happily at her feet.

“Nothing new is the matter,” Alys told Jocelin. “We were simply speaking of Guy.”

Jocelin wriggled his eyebrows at the very touchy subject matter.

“I see,” he watched Sheridan as she stood at the edge of the water and threw a little stick to the dog. He wasn’t sure he should even tell her what he had come to say but he could not keep it a secret.  She would find out soon enough. “I came to tell you that the sentries have sighted riders about a mile out. I suspect that it is Guy returned.”

Sheridan simply hung her head. Jocelin cast a long glace at Alys, silently ordering the girl away. Alys did so reluctantly, taking the dog with her as it raced up the hill. When the red-headed sister was gone, Jocelin went to stand next to Sheridan. His gaze moved over the lake, the gentle reeds and finally the distant horizon. He could feel Sheridan’s sorrow; he had been feeling it for months. But her sorrow did not erase the facts.

“Perhaps…,” he began, then cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should think on consenting to Guy’s proposal.  The man will not wait forever.”

“Then let him move on,” Sheridan snapped softly. “I did not ask him to wait for me.”

“But you promised Sean that you would marry him. That is why he waits. And also because he loves you a great deal.”

Sheridan turned away from him and began to walk the muddy shore. “Why must we speak on this every time he comes around?” she asked. “I have told you this time and time again; I have no intention of marrying Guy until I know for certain that Sean is dead.”

Jocelin drew in a long, deep breath, shaking his head. “Dani….”

She whirled on him. “Show me his body and I shall believe,” she said forcefully, “because until such time as I have proof, my husband is still alive and I will not marry anyone else.”

Jocelin exhaled sharply. “I have sent missives to the Marshall asking for proof. The man has not responded because he is too busy with more important things. You know that the barons are on the march against the crown and the Marshall is with them. You must accept that.…”

“Nay!” Sheridan roared, kicking at the water at her feet. “I will not accept. If you want me to believe that my husband perished, then I must have proof.”

“It has been six months since you last saw him. I would say the fact that he has not come for you in all that time is proof enough.”

Her raging came to an abrupt halt and she simply stood there, staring at her feet. She was between sorrow and anger so often these days.  “Father Simon said that….”

“Father Simon is in London.”

Her head came up and she fixed on him. “Father Simon said there is always hope.  Sean is stronger than we know.”

Jocelin pursed his lips sympathetically and went to her, putting his meaty hands on her arms.

“Father Simon was trying to give you comfort,” he shook her gently. “I believe the time has come for you to accept that your husband did not survive. Now, when young de Braose comes today, I would suggest you reconsider his proposal. He is a good man, Dani.  He will make a fine husband and father.”

“I like Guy a great deal but I do not want to marry him.”

“I know you do not. But you must consider what is right for the baby.  And you promised Sean that you would.”

He always threw that into the mix; Sheridan was coming to wish she had never told him that detail of her last conversation with Sean. As the months passed and her pregnancy advanced, so did her resolve against remarriage. She wasn’t foolish; she knew that they were trying to force her into marriage with de Braose for her own good.  Moreover, Guy loved her. Over the past several months he had proven himself wise, humorous and compassionate and Sheridan had come to like the man a great deal. But she did not love him. She probably never would.  Her heart would always belong to de Lara.

Yet she could not deny that it was increasingly apparent that Sean was dead. She kept hope in her heart that he had survived, but the more time passed, the harder it was to keep that hope alive. One day it would break down completely. Every time she reflected on the last time she saw him, her heart shattered just a little more. Perhaps it was time to finally accept the obvious.

She chewed on her lip, staring at the ground. After a moment, her blond head came up and she struggled with the words that were forming.

“If it will make you happy, I will make Guy a counter proposal,” she spoke so softly that he barely heard her.  “If he can bring me proof that Sean is dead….”

Jocelin cut her off. “He has tried that. He has gone to London to find out what became of Sean but he was unable to discover anything except those journals he brought to you.”

Sheridan’s gaze moved across the water as she thought on the volumes that Guy had brought back to her from the Tower. A priest at the Tower had given them to Guy when he had come around asking about de Lara; no one was sure how the volumes of journals had ended up in the chapel, but they had. The priests had found them in a dark corner, covered with a cloth, and left them there because they were unsure what to do with them.  But that changed when de Braose came to the Tower on a spring day in April. Guy had dutifully turned them over to Sheridan, who, unable to read Latin, had asked Guy to read them to her. 

It had been an eye-opening experience into the life and thoughts of a spy.  The Chronicles of Sean de Lara had, if nothing else, fed false hope in Sheridan that the man was still alive. Surely one so strong could never die.

“Dani?” Jocelin gently shook her from her reflection. “Did you hear me?”

She sighed faintly, allowing thoughts of the chronicles to fade. “I heard you,” she murmured. Then she looked at him. “I am only asking for something which I believe is my right. If Guy could find an eyewitness to Sean’s death or even the location of his burial, I would no longer resist his marriage proposal. There would be no reason to.”

Her statement was the first truly positive inkling she had issued towards a marriage to de Braose in six months and Jocelin squeezed her arms encouragingly.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “If that is what it will take, then surely there is something more he can do to help you come to grips with Sean’s death. I am sure if he knew you would agree to marry him right away, he would do everything possible to meet your terms. Shall I tell him?”

She paused a long moment before nodding. Jocelin kissed her on the top of the head and let her go.

“Then I shall go and tell him,” he said as he began the long trek up the hill. “He will be pleased.”

Sheridan turned back to the lake, standing alone as the gentle waters lapped at her feet. After a moment, the tears came, silently pouring down her cheeks as they had done so often these past six months. She wiped at her face, trying to stay ahead of the torrents that dripped onto her bosom. But it was of no use; the tears sprang from a well of grief that would never run dry.

She continued to stand there for quite some time, pondering her future. She did not want to return to the castle where Guy had arrived and was now undoubtedly asking where she was. It would take little time for him to find her. He was, if nothing else, predictable. She wanted to spend a few moments alone with her thoughts before he came hounding after her like an eager puppy. 

Sheridan put her hands against the small of her back again and began to pace around the shore of the lake. Lost in reflection, she barely missed stepping on a harmless little snake as it drank from the water. She shrieked, first in surprise, followed by giggles when she realized what she had nearly done. She stood there a moment, watching the snake fade into the weeds.

“Sheridan?”

A familiar voice caught her attention and she turned abruptly to see Guy standing a few feet behind her. Her heart sank a little at the sight of him; he had found her sooner than she had hoped.

“Greetings, Guy,” she said pleasantly. “How was London?”

He shrugged vaguely. “It was… eventful,” he seemed rather unsteady in his manner. “I heard you scream. Are you all right?”

She grinned, pointing to the grass. “A little snake startled me,” she said. “I am fine.”

Guy nodded and it was then that Sheridan noticed he seemed tight and drawn about the face. She peered more closely at him.

“What is wrong?” she asked. “You look strange.”

Guy seemed taken aback that she noticed his demeanor; he was hoping that it was not too noticeable. Then again, he had never been any good at hiding his feelings.

“Do I?” He tried to bluff his way out of it but found that he could not. “It… it is nothing, really. Well, perhaps something.  Aye, it is something.”

He was rambling and she lifted her eyebrows at him. “What is it?”

He wasn’t sure where to start. Reaching out, he took her gently by the arm and began to walk her back over to the chair and umbrella spread beneath the sapling.  It was cooler in the shade.

“I just want to say something,” he began softly. “I have… well, I have loved you since nearly the moment we first met.  You know that. And I have wanted to marry you for nearly as long.”