Lords of Darkness and Shadow (91 page)

Neely’s head snapped to Sheridan, whose eyes bugged with the shock of hearing such secretive information come blasting forth from her sister’s big mouth.   A storm was brewing, bigger than any of them could have guessed.

“Alys,” she snapped. “I will never forgive you for lying about that. I have never done anything of the sort.”

Neely was off of his tirade against Alys and focused on Sheridan now. “Is this true?” he asked. “Have you been meeting de Lara? My God, Dani, you know who he is and what he is. How can you risk yourself like that?”

He called her Dani. He hadn’t called her Dani in years. There was pain in his voice. Sheridan wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know how Neely felt about her. She’d always known. But it was unfortunate that she could not, and would not, return his feelings.  Still, she couldn’t look him in the eye and lie to him. It would have been disrespectful to all he’d ever meant to her family.

“I have met Sean on a few occasions,” she said quietly. “He had been kind and gracious and delightful.”

“De Lara?” Neely said incredulously. “The man is terror personified. Are you mad?”

“I’ll not have you speak of him so.”

“Why not? It’s true. I cannot fathom why you have allowed yourself to play games with the Devil.”

“He is not the Devil, Neely. I forbid you to speak ill of him.”

Neely was beside himself, eaten with jealousy and rage. “I have never known you to be stupid, but I suppose I was wrong. You have the weight and trust of the good allies of England upon your shoulders, yet you cavort with the enemy.”

She snapped. “Still your tongue, man.  My father has worked harder than anyone to ensure that England sees a new age and my loyalties lie with my father’s work.  Question my trustworthiness again and I will send you along your way.”

Neely froze, his dark eyes glittering with ferocity and distress.  “I wasn’t questioning your faithfulness,” he said quietly. “I was questioning your sanity in keeping company with Sean de Lara.”

“I know exactly what you were doing. Take care that your jealousy does not consume you, Neely. What you desire can never be and I will not allow you to discourage others who may vie for what you want for yourself.”

That was enough for Neely; like a dog that had been beaten one too many times, he quit the bedchamber with his head down.  His injured heart was evident. Alys still stood at the foot of the bed, shocked by the exchange, shocked that the focus had veered away from her so violently. 

“Oh, Dani,” she murmured. “You have hurt him.”

Sheridan didn’t want to talk anymore, to anyone. “Get out,” she told her sister. “I do not want to see you again today.”

Alys left the room, but not before she began weeping. She was sniffling as she quit the chamber and softly closed the door.  When she was gone, Sheridan lay back down upon her pillows and cried.

“… when it became obvious that nothing we had planned for would come to pass, other ideals took shape. It was necessary. A man of experience knows his limitations. I refused to accept mine….”

The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara

1206 - 1215 A.D.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The corridors of the royal wing were quiet at this time of day. As dusk fell and shadows waned, the royal guard were changing shifts and the king was taking his usual late-afternoon slumber so that he would be able to stand an evening of food and drink without retiring early. It spoiled his fun.  De Lara and d’Athée were in their usual room, in the chamber off of the king’s main bower.  This time of day was like the calm before the storm. Sean was sharpening a small dagger; d’Athée was trying to make heads or tales out of a map of the Welsh Marches.

He wasn’t an educated man. Gerard’s strength lay in the physical realm. He was as strong as a bear but as shallow as a cat. There wasn’t much he knew or cared about other than enough liquor to drink and enough women to bed.  He relied on Sean’s intellect where it really mattered. The two of them had worked side by side, day and night, for five years.  To date, it had been a compatible relationship though they could hardly be called close. It was simply the way of things.

“De Lara,” Gerard scratched his loused head, his frustrated expression fixed upon the map. “Kington; where is it?”

Sean glanced up from the dagger. “South of Montgomery.”

“Where?”

Sean stood up, still rubbing the dagger against the stone, and walked over to where Gerard stood against the table. He looked at the map and thumped a finger on the spot.

“There,” he said.

Gerard squinted at the map. “Is it a big castle?”

“Big enough.  Clifford holds it, plus he also holds Clifford Castle and Hay-on-Wye Castle.”

Gerard shook his head. “Not so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Clifford came to see the king while you were off with the red-haired chit. De Braose is laying siege to Kington as we speak. He had it before and now he wants it back.”

Sean lifted an eyebrow but did not respond further. He walked away from the table, back to his chair.  Gerard was still focused on the map.

“He wants you to ride for Kington,” he said. “He’ll be sending you within the week.”

“Who?”

“The king.”

Sean had to consciously prevent himself from reacting.  He took his seat casually, spit on the stone, and continued sharpening the dagger. “Did he tell you this?”

“Aye.” Gerard looked up from the map. “De Lara, ‘tis your business what you do with the red-head.  God knows, I have done enough with women to warrant a fine place in Hell. But at least I take them after our king has had his fill. I think your actions have concerned him.”

“Is that so?” Sean knew that Gerard could hardly keep a secret, or his opinions, to himself. With Gerard, sometimes it was difficult to separate the two. “What actions are those?”

“That you took the woman away from him. He doesn’t like competition.”

“So he is sending me to fight Clifford’s war in punishment?” Sean snorted. “I would hardly believe that.”

“He is sending you to smash de Braose.”

Sean continued the steady grind of metal against stone, although his thoughts were racing. “That,” he said slowly, “I would believe. Did he say this?”

Gerard nodded. “He is furious with the de Braose clan. With the final father and son remaining from that great dynasty, he is determined to crush them once and for all. Were the king to confiscate their holdings along the Marches, it would greatly enrich his coffers.”

“Indeed,” Sean sighed, trying to appear as if the information really did not concern him. “The House of de Braose has been a Norman fixture in England since the conquest.  I am almost sorry to see the last of the line go.”

“Don’t be,” Gerard said. “If I were you, I’d worry about the House of St. James.”

Sean’s heart skipped a beat. “What in the hell for?”

Gerard made his way over to where Sean was seated. “Because our king is mulling over the possibility of razing Lansdown Castle on your way to the Marches.”

Sean stopped sharpening. He stared at Gerard, struggling not to overtly respond. “Why would he do that?”

“Why not?”

Sean held Gerard’s gaze a moment longer, trying to read him. But the man’s expression was characteristically stupid. He slowly went back to his blade. “Then he’d better send me with a large army. Lansdown is nearly impenetrable.”

Gerard lingered around the chair for the moment. Sean could feel him breathing down his neck. He wasn’t so sure why the man was being so solicitous, but he didn’t like it. He was suspicious. The blade in his hand suddenly ended up at Gerard’s throat.

D’Athèe threw his hands up in response to the threatening action. There was a glimmer of humor in his dark eyes.

“Not me, my friend,” he said with a smile. “I am not your enemy.”

Sean’s clear blue eyes were laced with venom. “Tell me everything you have heard and tell me why you feel the need to be so solicitous.”

Gerard continued to grin at him in the hopes of infuriating Sean. It didn’t work. After a moment, his smug grin faded.

“He had me follow you this afternoon,” he rumbled. “He wanted to see where you took the St. James girl. I followed you to the physic and back to the St. James apartments. Then I followed you back to the physic again, where you sent the man back to the St. James’ chambers. And now, here we are, cozy comrades.”

Sean had the point of the blade aimed right at his major artery. One flick and the man would bleed to death right in front of him.  They both knew that it was not out of the realm of possibility; they’d both seen Sean do far worse.

“Why did he have you follow me?” Sean’s tone was as deadly as the wicked gleam of the blade.

“Because you stopped him from having his way with the red-haired girl. You have never done that before.”

A split-second of uncertainty crossed Sean’s eyes, but Gerard was too dense to see it.  “I told him why. There is no mystery to it.”

Gerard shook his head, rubbing his neck against the blade. Spots of blood appeared. “But you took her to the physic and escorted her home.”

Sean lifted an eyebrow. “I have done that before, too, and well you know it. In fact, you have accompanied me on such outings. I did nothing with the St. James woman that I haven’t done before.”

“Except stopped the king from taking her. You know as well as I do that no one does that and escapes his wrath, or his suspicions.”

“So what has he sent you to do? Watch every move I make? Kill me as I sleep?”

Gerard shook his head, carefully. “No, my friend. Nothing so drastic. You are a favorite of our king. But you placed doubt in his mind with your actions. He will demand a show of your loyalty now.”

Sean could see where he was leading. “To destroy Lansdown?”

“To prove you are more loyal to him than to the House of St. James.”

With a hiss, Sean dropped the knife and turned away.  “So that’s it,” he said. “He needs affirmation of my fealty.”

“Aye.”

Sean turned to him. “Does he really think I have loyalties to the opposition? For Christ’s sake, I have spent nine years in his personal service. Does he really believe I would jeopardize my standing for a stupid wench hardly out of swaddling clothes?”

Gerard shrugged. “All I know is what I have heard. He has not told me anything directly. I would expect he would do that, to you, very shortly.”

Sean’s jaw was ticking, a million thoughts rolling through his mind. “He wants me out of London and off to the wilds,” he muttered to himself.  There was tremendous irony in his voice as he slowly shook his head.  “Oh, sweet mercy.”

Gerard left him alone.  Sean didn’t know where the man went, but he suspected it was to tell the king of their conversation. Of that, he was unconcerned. But he was deeply concerned with the course the last few minutes had taken.

So he would be ordered to ride to Kington, destroying Lansdown along the way. It didn’t even matter that Lansdown would be his own when he married Sheridan. It had nothing to do with that. What mattered was making sure Sheridan was safe before he left, and there was no doubt he would go.  He had to. Nine years had come to this point and he would not risk everything, at least not now. 

Everything now hinged on the attack on London.  It had to be before he left for the Marches so that he did not have to go. He would undoubtedly be required to stay and protect the city.  Consequently, he had to get Sheridan out of London now and send her home for her own safety. However, if the attack on London was delayed and he found himself mobilizing for the Marches with Lansdown in his path, then he would find himself attacking the castle with Sheridan within its walls. 

It was an appalling prospect.

A few hours before dawn found Alys wandering the halls of the royal apartments again. Roused from a deep sleep, Sean could hear her distant weeping. With a start, he threw himself out of the chair he had been dozing on and tossed open the doors from his chamber so hard that one of them actually unhinged. He was in the corridor, marching towards the sounds of her weeping.

She was disheveled and hysterical, attempting to tell a crimson-clad guard the purpose of her visit.  Sean marched upon her and she cried out the moment she saw him. But he knew, whatever she said, could not be beneficial to anyone so he slapped a massive hand over her mouth and physically carried her back down the hall in the direction that she had come. He didn’t want her anywhere near the royal apartments. She had already cost him much. He would not let her cost him everything.

Half-way down a servant’s stair, he set her down. Her face was red and damp from weeping.

“I told you never to come back here again,” he growled. “It was not a request but a command. I told you that if I saw you again that I would.…”

“Sir Sean, please,” Alys sobbed. “I came to find you. My sister is very ill.”

He forgot his anger. “What is wrong?”

Alys shook her head. “I do not know. I cannot wake her. She breathes harsh and labored, as if she is dying. I am afraid that she is!”

He didn’t ask her any more.  Grasping her arm, far more gently this time, he led the way back to the St. James apartment.  The corridors were quiet and still at this hours with oil lamps burning every so often so as not to create total darkness.  He could feel royal soldiers around him, guarding the different wings that they passed through, but he ignored them. By the time they reached the apartment, his panic had blossomed while Alys’ had calmed. They made an odd combination.

There were two St. James soldiers in the hall protecting the door. Alys waved them aside as the little maid unbolted the panel from the inside. Once inside, the little puppy jumped all over his feet and it was an effort not to step on the beast. The room was warm and dimly lit.  Avoiding the dog, Sean went straight to the bower.

It was nearly pitch dark in the room, but he could hear Sheridan’s breathing the moment he entered the door. It sounded like a death rattle.

“Bring some light,” he commanded quietly as he went for the bed. He could barely see her in the darkness and he felt for a pulse. It was fast and weak, and his heart sank. “How long has she been like this?”

Alys hovered behind him as the maid brought forth a fish oil lamp. Immediately, they could see how pale Sheridan was.

“A few hours,” Alys said. “The physic gave her some medicine and she fell asleep, and now I cannot wake her.”

Sean put both hands on her face, enormous appendages that swallowed up Sheridan’s entire head.  His fingers were in his hair, his flesh against her. Stabs of longing, of angst, filled his chest as he touched her.

“Sheridan,” he whispered. “Sheridan, can you hear me?”

She was limp, like a corpse.  He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Wake up, angel. Hear my voice and awaken.”

“She won’t.” The panic returned to Alys’ tone. “What shall we do?”

Sean didn’t hesitate. “Send for Gilby,” he snapped softly. “Tell your guards in the hall to go for him; he is near the barracks. Tell them to hurry.”

Both Alys and the maid fled. Alone in the room, with a small lamp casting an eerie white light on Sheridan’s features, Sean gazed at her with a tremendous amount of sorrow.  His thumbs continued to stroke her cheeks, his forehead finally coming to rest on her own. It was a helpless gesture. Never in his life had he felt so powerless, listening to her labor to breathe, terrified that she was indeed going to die right in front of him.  The thought nearly brought tears to his eyes, and it was a shocking realization.

Pulling her limp body up against him, he cradled her against his massive chest, rocking her gently with the inborn instinct of all human beings.  It was a deliciously painful gesture, her fragile warmth against his strength.

He was still holding her when Gilby came. The old man had to practically pry her out of Sean’s arms. Sean had known Gilby for many years and trusted the man’s discretion. He knew that no word of his actions or behavior would reach the ears of others.  Sean, Alys and the little maid watched with baited breath as the old physic examined Sheridan.  He listened to her chest, checked her pulse, checked her eyes.  He even looked in her ears. Finally, he shook his head.