Lords of Darkness and Shadow (93 page)

Father Simon’s gaze was laced with regret.

“…. My entire life had been mapped, carefully controlled. I was infallible, omnipotent, the Fear of all. I believed myself beyond defeat. That would soon be put to the test as my angel was pulled into the bowels of Hell… the gates opened and I leapt wholeheartedly into the maelstrom to save her….”

The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara

1206 - 1215 A.D.

CHAPTER EIGHT

There was a corporeal sense of anxiety in the air of the halls near the Flint Tower. Everything in the St. James apartment was packed and ready to go less than two hours after the command to move out came down.  Jocelin himself had given the order to the St. James men, who immediately started packing their gear and summoning the horses. Neely had faithfully joined his troops for the detail although he was still muddled by the alcohol that flowed through his veins. 

Inside the apartment, the little maid had summoned the help of a few household servants to help pack her mistresses’ items, which they had done so with efficiency.   Capcases and trunks were stacked neatly in the antechamber. The women were ready to go before the army was.

Unable to sleep through the commotion and excitement, Alys had also helped pack with her one good arm. Sheridan had slept like the dead through all of it. Even now, when everything was bundled and being taken from the Flint Tower down to the waiting wagons, Sheridan was unable to awaken. The medicaments that Gilby had given her continued to render her incapable of responding, so everyone simply worked around her.

When their apartment was empty and most of the men had gone, Alys and the maid struggled to dress Sheridan in traveling clothes. Ill or not, she had to be moved and it could not be done in her shift.  The act of dressing her became even more complicated with Alys’ bandaged arm, but they somehow managed to get a heavy wool shift and tunic on her. Even though she weighed next to nothing, it was like trying to dress a rag doll.  They’d lift one arm and the other would fall.  When they turned her over to fasten the dress, she nearly slid off the mattress.  The entire event never gave them a moment’s peace.

By the time the ladies were finished dressing her, they were exhausted. Sheridan was neatly bundled up, however, and prepared to depart.  Alys went into the antechamber to notify the one remaining guard, but found it eerily empty.  She found him in the hall, dutifully guarding the door. He proceeded to inform Alys that he was at his post pending the return of Neely and the bishop. Alys went back inside to wait.

The hustle of the past two hours had faded, leaving the apartments strangely still.  There was a fire burning low in the hearth, the precious glass that lined the windows on this level frosted from the moisture inside the room.  Alys wandered back into the bedchamber where the maid sat next to Sheridan, making sure her sister remembered to breathe. Sitting on the opposite side of the bed, she waited for the men to return.

Her arm throbbed and itched beneath the bandages. In truth, Alys wasn’t particularly happy to be returning home.  She rather liked it here at the Tower with a variety of men to look at.  Glancing at Sheridan, she felt a stab of envy; her sister cared not for men in the least, yet she had de Lara and de Braose’s attentions. It wasn’t fair.  But her bitterness fled as Sheridan coughed in her sleep. Alys reached out with her good hand to touch her sister’s cheek.
Poor Dani.

A knock on the antechamber door roused her from her thoughts. Alys rushed to the door to find Guy standing in the archway. His handsome, youthful face was grim.

“Where is Lady Sheridan?” he asked.

Alys pointed to the bedroom, disappointed that he had not asked for her. “She is ill.”

He didn’t say anything as he pushed past her.  Alys trotted after him. Guy barged into the bedchamber, his gaze falling upon Sheridan’s sleeping face. After a split second of allowing himself the luxury of looking upon her beauty, absorbing it, he moved swiftly into action.

“We must get her out.” He went to the side of the bed and scooped her carefully into his arms. “Get a blanket to cover her. I am taking her to the carriage.”

The little maid hurried to do his bidding. A wool traveling blanket was produced.  Alys was anxious at de Braose’s clipped, rushed manner.

“What carriage?” she asked. “We came astride palfreys. Where are you…?”

“I have confiscated a carriage for her,” Guy cut her off. “She obviously cannot ride in this condition. You will ride with her in the carriage to ensure her good health.”

Alys couldn’t argue. As the maid gathered up the last of their items, including the puppy, they followed de Braose from the apartment and into the long, dark corridor.  He seemed almost in a panic to get out of the tower. Alys has to literally run to keep up with him.

“Why so hurried?” she asked him.

Guy didn’t reply. He was absorbed by the urgency that filled every part of his body. His meeting with Jocelin just moments before had been brief. Guy came out of the meeting with a future wife. It had been everything he had been hoping for. But Jocelin also told him about de Lara.  Guy understood the need for urgency in getting Sheridan out of the Tower better than most. Too much hinged on it.

“Sir Guy?” Alys would not be ignored. “Please tell me why you are so hurried. You are frightening me.”

He hadn’t meant to be cruel.  Sometimes his dedication to a task caused him to lose sight of things around him and he realized that he was being selfish. “I do not mean to frighten you, my lady,” he said quietly. “’Tis simply that the guard is ready and waiting to leave. I do not wish to leave them standing vulnerable.”

It was a half-truth.  Guy’s own personal guard was mingled with the St. James men, all of them waiting to escort their lords and ladies out of the city.  A siege was hours away and they had to get clear.

He was at the base of the steps, close to the doorway that lead to the yard and the Lanthorn gate beyond.  He could almost smell the freedom and sent the maid on ahead to notify the troops of their impending arrival.

As he neared the open panel, a massive form stepped from the shadows. Guy knew who it was before he ever saw the face, simply by the size. He should have known the Lord of the Shadows would know his every move

Guy came to a slow, unsteady halt. Alys yelped with fear, with surprise, as de Lara stepped into the soft gray light.  Guy’s forward momentum may have been arrested, but he stood his ground.  He would not back down and he would not run.  He could not believe that de Lara would attack him with Sheridan in his arms.

“Move aside, de Lara,” he said calmly.

Sean was clad from head to toe in full battle gear.  When he moved, metal brushed against metal and gave him a horrible, death-like resonance.

“Where are you going?” Sean sounded like the Devil.

Guy paused, fear and anger hand in hand. As long a he held Sheridan, he was certain that de Lara would do him no harm.

“I am escorting the ladies home, at the request of the Bishop of Bath and Glastonbury,” he said. “If you would kindly step aside, we can be on our way.”

“You are not leaving the Tower with Lady Sheridan.”

“The ladies wish to return home.”

Sean’s hand went to rest on the hilt of his sword; the thing was so massive that it weighed as much as a small child.  It was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Guy, and the ripples of fear began to spread through his chest.

“Nay, they do not,” Sean said steadily. “Give Lady Sheridan to me and be on your way.”

The air grew tense. “I will not,” Guy replied. “She goes home.”

Sean shifted on his enormous legs.  It was almost a thoughtful gesture. “De Braose, I have no quarrel with you. But you do not seem to understand the way of things. When I tell you to give me the lady, that is exactly what I meant. To refuse my request is not in your best interest.”

“You cannot use your sword against me without risking the lady.” Guy’s anger overshadowed his fear. “If your goal is truly to keep Lady Sheridan for yourself, what kind of man would risk her life simply to gain his wants?”

“That is not your concern. You are caught up in something you know nothing about. I would suggest you simply turn her over to me and be on your way.”

“I will not.”

“She does not belong to you.”

“She is my betrothed.”

“She is
my
betrothed.”

The rapid-fire exchange came to a strange, unsteady pause.  Guy finally shook his head. “The Bishop of Bath has consecrated our betrothal,” he said. “I do not know whereby you make your claim.”

“My claim is directly between the lady and me. I asked for her hand and she accepted.”

Guy wasn’t sure how to respond. There were apparently details that he knew nothing about. But, then again, de Lara could easily be lying.  He gazed at Sheridan, collapsed against him, his thoughts and wants torn.

“I am sure that Jocelin would say that she has no right,” he said softly. “’Tis not for the lady to dictate terms of marriage.”

Sean watched Guy, the way he held Sheridan, and fought off the pangs of jealousy.  “As heiress to Bath and Glastonbury, she can indeed express her desire. Jocelin has no formal control over her, other than by verbal agreement with her father.” He took a step forward, his focus moving between Sheridan and Guy. “I can promise you that Jocelin will surrender to her will. And her will is to marry me.”

In his heart, Guy suspected that was true. He could imagine no man denying Lady Sheridan.  After a moment, he smiled wryly. “I would assume that Jocelin knows nothing of the agreement between you.”

“He does not.”

Sheridan picked that moment to awaken. Much to everyone’s surprise, she suddenly raised an arm and slapped Guy across the face.  Startled, he lost his grip and she almost tumbled to the floor. Only his quick reflexes prevented her head from striking the stone.  Sean, as fast and agile as a cat, was on his knees beside her just as another hand came up. He grabbed it before it could strike Guy again.

“Bastards,” she was half-awake, spouting obscenities. “I’ll kill you both. Let me go. Let me go, I say!”

Sean knew her mind was not clear. Before he could speak, Alys leaned over her.

“Dani,” she said softly. “’Tis all right. I am here.”

Sheridan’s luminous blue eyes lolled open. They kept rolling back into her head. “Alys?” she whispered. She blinked several times. “Where am I? What is happening?”

“We must leave the Tower,” Alys told her. “Sir Guy… well, he is helping us….”

Sheridan was dreadfully groggy. She looked at Guy, then turned to Sean.  Her eyes widened. “Sean,” she whispered.  “You are here, too?”

“I am here.”

Guy could see in that moment, by the expression upon her face, that the feelings Sean de Lara had expressed for Sheridan were very mutual.  It was a disheartening awareness.  But Guy wasn’t accustomed to surrender; it did not come easily to him. His father had taught him that.  He knew that he would not relinquish Sheridan without a fight.

Sean still held her hand. Before Guy could stop him, he tugged gently on her arm and pulled her right up into his cradling grasp.  They were smiling at each other, very glad to see one another.  Guy’s momentary surprise turned to resentment.

“No, de Lara,” he said firmly. “She must go with me. I must remove her from the Tower at once.”

Sean tore his gaze away from Sheridan long enough to cast de Braose a malignant glare. Strangely enough, he did not speak the multitude of threats that were on his mind.  He saw no need now that Sheridan was in his arms.

“She will be removed,” he said quietly. “But it will be under my protection.”

Guy was normally a very calm man. What he did in the next moment was uncharacteristic.  He unsheathed his weapon, a blade used in many battles by his forefathers, and leveled it at Sean.  He ceased to become the calm, pleasant man he had established a reputation as. He became what his family had built their foundation on – a warring, confrontational de Braose.

“She is not yours, not by rights or by law,” he said, as sternly as his mild-manner would allow. “Release her to me and I will forgive everything. Refuse and I shall be forced to defend what is rightfully mine.”

The smell of battle was in the air. Sean had inhaled the heady scent too many times not to know it, not to feel it. He carefully put Sheridan down, holding her steady as she wobbled on weak legs.

“Go with Alys,” he told her. “Alys, take your sister away from here. Go back to your apartment until I come for you.”

“Nay,” Sheridan shook her head, unsteadying herself to the point of nearly falling. “I’ll not leave you. What is happening here?”

As Sean thought of a simple explanation for the events of the past few moments, Guy spoke.

“Jocelin has offered a betrothal between you and I,” he said. “I have accepted.”

Sheridan wasn’t overly stunned.  Her father had been trying to marry her off since she had been fourteen years of age. Five years later, Jocelin had taken the mantle of matchmaker.  She knew her worth as an heiress, and Guy seemed like a kind young man. Certainly he was well connected and an alliance between St. James and de Braose would be a smart one. But the fact remained that she did not want to marry him.