Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (41 page)

Joanna ignored them and sprinted up the stairs. No one tried to stop her as she swung around the corner, charged down the hall, and mounted the second staircase. The roar of the clash in the common room was quieter on the third floor, but it could still be heard. She spun into the hall of the third floor only to find two more armed
guards
. They were tense, swords drawn, inching towards the stairs.

“There’s a fight!” Joanna panted, pointing down the stairs. She pressed her back against the wall, praying they would believe she was a patron of the tavern. “Men with swords! Help!”

The
guards
didn’t need any further encouragement. They rushed past her, eagerness in their eyes. Joanna slumped against the wall, clutching a hand to her chest to catch her breath. She closed her eyes and prayed Ethan could handle two more enemies. Her heart told her that he could and he would. He would finish them and be with her soon.

A high-pitched scream from the room at the end of the hall jolted her out of her respite. “Madeline!” she shouted.

She pushed away from the wall and sprinted for the room. Madeline’s scream sounded again, followed by Aubrey’s shout of, “No! Get off of her!”

Joanna threw open the door. Aubrey, Madeline, and Roderick were clustered at the far end of the room near the open window. A moment of confusion focused into a terrified shout. Roderick had lifted Madeline off her feet and was trying to shove her through the open window.
Aubrey struggled to free Madeline while kicking Roderick to no effect.

“Stop!” Joanna shouted. She flew across the room and pummeled Roderick, wishing she still had the dagger.

Roderick growled, eyes wild and rabid. He twisted towards her. Aubrey grabbed Madeline around the waist and pulled her out of Roderick’s grasp. He let go and the two women tumbled to the floor.

Roderick lashed out at
Joanna
, his fist smashing into her already wounded face. The pain of the blow stunned
her
. Blackness enveloped her for a moment. When she forced herself to focus she was already clamped in Roderick’s iron grip. He swung her around like a rag doll, thrusting her towards the window.

Joanna’s head and shoulders flew out into the open air. She only just managed to grab the sill. Her stomach lurched as she looked straight down. The Thames
gurgled
around thick stone
supporting piers.
The drop was dizzying.
She screamed
in terror
and fought against Roderick’s attempt to push her to her death. Her arms were close to giving out and he held her legs, preventing her from using them to brace herself. Her balance began to fail. She screamed harder as the world tipped.

With a sudden jolt Roderick’s pushing stopped. Joanna’s stomach dropped against the windowsill, the breath knocked out of her.
Every nerve in her body tingled with fear and relief.
She couldn’t afford to rest. She pushed herself back into the
room, landing on unsteady legs.

Aubrey’s vicious shout
,
followed by a sick thump
,
focused Joanna once more. Roderick stumbled back. Aubrey shook out her hand with a sharp grimace. Madeline huddled in the corner, eyes searching wildly. She found a candlestick on the table, grabbed it, and chucked it at Roderick.
It hit his shoulder with a thunk and clattered to the floor. Roderick snarled and charged at
her
.

“Stay away from her!” Joanna shouted and lunged at him. She rammed into
his chest
shoulder first, knocking them both off balance.

Roderick recovered first. “Oh I see,” he panted, grabbing a handful of Joanna’s kirtle and
hoisting her to the tips of her toes
. “You want to go the way your brother did, don’t you
?
Defending your useless masters with ridiculous theatricality.”

Rage pounded through Joanna. She sent a fist crashing into Roderick’s face. He lost his grip on her. She spun away, moving to stand in front of Aubrey and Madeline with her arms outstretched.

“My brother died a hero!” she shouted. “He died defending the people he loved. If he can do it, then I can do it too!”

Roderick cradled his jaw, glaring at her. “You asked for it!” He reached into his tunic and pulled out a knife.

Madeline gasped as Aubrey called, “Watch out!”
Joanna pushed her hair out of her face and raised balled fists to fight Roderick off. If she was going to die then so be it. She lunged toward Roderick.

Roderick countered, knife raised, but before he could slice at Joanna the door banged open. Ethan shot into the room, sword drawn, Simon and David close behind him.

“Joanna!”
Ethan’s
eyes grew round and panicked at the sight of her. He hesitated.

Roderick grabbed the opportunity and lunged at him. His knife sliced along Ethan’s wrist and hand. With a cry Ethan dropped his sword. Roderick slashed his knife again, cutting Ethan’s tunic. Joanna leapt to Ethan’s side, ready to defend him
as fiercely as she had Aubrey and Madeline
, but it wasn’t Ethan
Roderick
was interested in.

Simon raised his short sword to block his son as Roderick charged him.
“Roderick, stop!” he ordered.

Roderick ignored him, pivoting and jabbing at him from the other side.
Simon blocked the attack but made no move to counter. Roderick growled, spit foaming at the corners of his mouth as he sliced at his father again and again. Simon matched his movements, blocking every one. His face was a mask of stone, his eyes fixed on Roderick.

At last Simon caught Roderick’s wrist and held it up, squeezing. Roderick cried out and the knife dropped to the ground.

“Stop this at once!” Simon scolded as if Roderick were a disobedient child.

“Why should I listen to you?” Roderick bellowed. “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m
your father,” Simon answered.

“You were never my father! You tried to turn me in for murder!”

“The only thing I ever did was love you.”

“You never loved me!” Roderick howled, face red and twisted with rage. “Nothing I did was ever good enough for you.”

Simon’s expression betrayed no emotion. “No, son,” he said with unnatural calm. “Nothing
I
did was ever good enough for
you
. But
your mother and
I have always loved you. Always.”

Roderick gaped at him, eyes and mouth wide, panting as though he would never
be able to draw enough breath.

“Now stop this struggling,” Simon continued. “It’s time to let go of this anger and this madness and come home. I can-”

Roderick
wrenched his wrist out of Simon’s grip. For a moment the two men stood
still
, eyes locked in a battle of wills. Then, with a flash of
speed
, Roderick spun and bolted for the window, vaulting over the sill and out into nothing.

“Roderick!” The cry ripped from Simon’s lungs.
He leapt towards the window, reaching out in desperation. Joanna and Ethan rushed after him. Ethan grabbed the back of
Simon’s
tunic to keep him from tumbling out the window himself. “Roderick!” His cry echoed out into the morning. “My son!”

He lurched back into the room. Joanna’s heart caught in her throat at the sight of Simon’s face contorted in grief. Madeline flew to him, throwing her arms around him with a wail and burying her face against his shoulder.
Simon accepted the embrace with limp grief.

Joanna couldn’t watch. She rushed to the open window, prickles of dread rushing through her as she searched the stone and water below. There was nothing to see. The river boiled and churned with the last disturbance of something
plunging
into it, but there was no body.

“He’s gone,” Ethan spoke at her shoulder. He rested his hand on her waist. She leaned against him. The solid heat of his body was a comfort, but confusion still swirled in her soul.

“He jumped,” she said.

Ethan’s arms closed around her. She was so tempted to rest her head against his shoulder
and breathe as if their ordeal was over
. Something wouldn’t let her. Aubrey was saying something behind her, Madeline’s weeping continued, but Joanna’s heart still pounded.

Thames Street and the Tower were visible from the tavern window. The morning sun was beginning to cut through the clouds, reflecting off the White Tower. The king’s flags flew all around the walls. It was the stream of people that she could just barely make out as they rushed to the Tower gate that caught her attention.

“Ethan, the Tower.” She pointed
as the buzz of activity from the gate came clearer to her.

“What is it?” he asked, muscles hardening as he saw what she saw.

She spun in his arm to look at him. “The assass
ination attempt,” she breathed
.
“It must have been discovered.”

“Let’s go.” Ethan grabbed her hand and ran for the door.

Chapter TwentyFour

Dear Joanna,

I can scarce write these words to you, except that writing them may be the only thing that keeps me from falling into a despair that I will never come out of.
I don’t know how to go on but to tell you all
.

We knew Saladin was gathering his forces for an attack on us in revenge for the massacre at Acre. We knew they were close as we continued down the coast towards Jaffa. When they attacked we were as ready as any army could be.

The Turks launched their attack in a way unlike any I have ever seen. They beat gongs and sounded cymbals and made piercing cries that sounded like they came straight from hell. I was not the only man unnerved by the din. But we held our positions and stayed strong as the attack began in earnest.

The fighting was fierce. I stayed close to the supplies as usual, running water and bandages to the knights who were injured and could not make it out of the battle. Ethan and Baldwin fought the incoming Turk side-by-side. I kept them in sight the whole time as I went about my duty. Two more brave and valiant knights you will never see. They fought like lions.

But then the unthinkable happened. A small group of men, Ethan and Baldwin among them, were separated from the larger force by a pack of screaming Turks. They began to fall quickly under such heavy assault. I cried for help, pleading with every knight or servant I could find to come to their rescue. Time was running out and before long I knew that I was the only one who could rescue them. I was the only one, but there were so many knights in need of help.

They all went down, Joanna. Every last one of them sustained some kind of injury, even our Ethan and my dear, sweet Baldwin. The Turk fell back for a moment, but I could see they were regrouping, intent on returning to finish the men w
ho survived the first assault.

I ran to them. Ethan and Baldwin lay in the bloodied sand close to each other. My heart was torn in two as I crouched between them. They were both mad with pain and thirst and the insanity of war
.
B
oth men clung to me, pleading for help. But the Turk were coming.

I did the only thing I could do, Joanna. I thought of you, thought of your happiness and your future. I knew that I had to save Ethan first, for you. I found strength I didn’t know I had, hauled him to his feet and dragged him away from the noise of battle and death. I took him all the way back to the safety of the supplies where healers were waiting. Then I ran back for Baldwin.

I tried, Joanna. With everything in me I tried. The battle closed in around the place where my Baldwin lay. I charged on, heedless of the danger around me. All I knew was that I had to reach him, but the harder I ran the farther away he was to me. I had almost reached him when the forces of the Turk surged towards us. The horses
roared
like thunder as they charged through, trampling everything in their path.
The earth shook, drowning my cries. I was thrown to the ground but kept going, crawling over blood and bodies, discarded flags and armor, the world gone to hell. I saw him for one moment, one heartbeat, reaching out to me. Then he was gone. …

Ethan
ran along Thames Street, Joanna
keeping pace with him
, the rush of
battle
echoing in his ears.
He knew this feeling, this desperation to fight
for the one he loved
. His eyes searched forward, seeking out his enemy, but his attention was f
irmly on Joanna’s hand in his.

From London Bridge the early morning crowd had parted to let the six of them run past. Aubrey followed close on his and Joanna’s heels with Simon and Madeline several paces behind and David bringing up the rear.
As they approached the Tower, however, the crowd grew thicker and less likely to let them pass. Ethan attempted to dodge around
people
at first, but urgency led him to shove when people wouldn’t move.

“Hey! Who do you think you are?” a particularly irate noble protested as Ethan tried to forge a path right through him.

“You can wait your turn for a seat at the executions like the rest of us,” another noble added.

“Executions?” Joanna
gasped
. She pulled Ethan to a halt
, Aubrey stopping as well,
as she faced the irritated nobles. “What executions?”

Simon, Madeline, and David caught up to them as the first noble answered, “Haven’t you heard? There was an attempt on the king’s life early this morning. One of those nobles from Derbyshire tried to stab him in a back in the chapel.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from a bunch of
country
nobles,” the second one said with a chuckle.

“A
bunch
of country nobles?” Ethan’s pulse pounded harder.

“The whole lot of them is involved,” the second one continued. “
It turns out that the king only arrested two of them before while the third one ran free to do as he liked.”

“That’s the end of that though,” the first one finished. “All three of them are being separated from their heads by royal order.”

Madeline screamed. Aubrey shouted, “Crispin!” and pushed ahead through the crowd, punching any man or woman who stood in her way. Ethan kept his grip firm around Joanna’s hand and charged after her.

As careless as Aubrey,
Ethan
threw people out of his way. The blood still oozing from his wounded hand and wrist chased them away as well. Aubrey kept ahead of him though. She made it to the gate first.

The guards scrambled to keep the eager crowd in order, but they were outnumbered.

“Stop right there!” one of them tried to grab Aubrey as she passed. She growled and stomped on the man’s foot and sprinted on into the Tower. The guard spun to chase after her. His clumsy movement left an opening for Ethan and Joanna to break through. Simon and David rushed Madeline past the guards
behind them
. The rest of the nobles waiting at the gate tried to follow. The guards were too busy regulating the crowd to chase after
one small group.

Ethan’s heart dropped into his gut at the sight that waited him around the corner in the Tower yard.
A crowd had gathered around the raised platform on the green. A
beefy executioner with his hood already in place and a wicked axe in his hands was positioned beside
the block
. Crispin and Jack were held by guards to one side. Matlock knelt at the block, his neck already stretched over it.

“Proceed!” the king boomed from the top of the wooden steps outside of the White Tower. He stood above the crowd and the condemned, dressed in full royal robes with his crown on his head. The landing of the stairs behind him was packed tight with other royals and armed guards. Pennington stood close by his side
, his nose and face swollen
.

Ethan rushed towards the platform as the executioner raised his axe. Before he could shove his way around a pack of stunned onlookers to where Aubrey
stood,
the
axe fell with a sickening chunk. Madeline screamed somewhere behind him. The crowd cheered and groaned. The executioner raised his axe again for another blow. The cheering grew pitched.

“Stop! Crispin!” Aubrey cried as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

“Aubrey!” Crispin answered, voice cracking. He surged against the men that held him. They grabbed him by the rope that tied his arms behind his back. “Aubrey, get out of here!” he ordered her.

“No! I won’t let them do this!” She tried to storm the platform but was held back.

“What is this delay?” King Richard shouted from his perch. “I want these conspirators dead!”

The guards scrambled to action, grabbing Jack and wrenching him forward. The executioner and his assistant lifted Matlock’s headless body and rolled it to the side of the platform, blood spilling everywhere. His head was bundled into a basket by two pages.

Ethan and Joanna reached the side of the platform
near its rickety stairs
as Jack was shoved to his knees before the block. Jack’s face was pale and set. He held his shoulders square, staring defiance at the nobles hungry for his death.

“No!” Aubrey continued to shout and kick at the men holding her. “
Jack, I won’t let them do this.
Stop!”

“You saved me from
execution
once
before
, mate,” Jack told her. “I guess twice was too much to ask for.”

“Jack!” Madeline’s wail split through the crowd. She fought her way to the front as Simon tried to hold her back. When she broke through to the platform and soaked the hem of her dress in her father’s blood she stumbled and wretched. Simon caught her.

“Madeline!” Jack’s resolve broke
, his pale face twisting in grief
. “Get her out of here, Simon! I don’t want her to
remember me like
this.”

“Jack, no!” Madeline wept. She reached out for him even as Simon held her back.

“Stop this delay at once!” the king demanded from the stairs. The executioner moved into position,
adjusting his grip on the axe
. His assistant forced Jack forward
, yanking him by the hair to stretch his neck across the block.

“I love you, Madeline!” Jack shouted, his voice sharp with fear.

The executioner raised his axe above his head.
Ethan let go of Joanna’s hand and charged up onto the platform. He barreled into the executioner
’
s back as he brought the axe down. The executioner fumbled as he and Ethan
spilled
to the floor across Jack’s legs.
The axe sunk into the floorboards.
Jack shouted in fear and surprise. The crowd gasped.

Ethan struggled to his feet, spinning to face the king. “Your majesty!” he called
in French
across the distance before anyone could take action to stop him. “You must stop this!”

The crowd gasped again at his defiance then rumbled into whispers. Ethan stood his ground, tunic smeared with blood from the platform.

“Ethan of Windale,” Richard boomed down at him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“These men have been unjustly accused!” It was all or nothing. He took a breath, making his choice.

“Sir Stephen of Matlock made an attempt on
my
life early this morning,” Richard countered him. “I saw him with my own eyes, him and his accomplice.
You would try to stop me from bringing justice to my would-be murderers?
”

It was a mark of Richard’s wrath that he forgot to speak in the royal plural. Ethan grasped a
t that one light of hope. “Yes, my liege,” he addressed the king as he had in the man’s private tent after battles in the Holy Land. “
This is not what you think.
Matlock got what he deserved.” He took a breath. The king hadn’t interrupted him yet. He held onto that hope. “These men, Sir Crispin and Lord John, are Matlock’s sworn enemies.”

“That man,” Richard pointed to Crispin, “shouted his encouragement to the murderer.”

Ethan glanced to Crispin. “The king says you shouted encouragement to Matlock during his assassination attempt.”

Crispin stared back at him, off-guard and struggling to maintain his composure. His eyes flickered to Aubrey then back to Ethan. “I saw Matlock and … a young man,” he emphasized the words, “sneak into the chapel. I shouted to warn the king.”

Ethan nodded. He looked up to the king. “Sir Crispin says he called out to warn you, my liege.” All or nothing. “And it worked. You are still here, your majesty, to dispense justice to those who deserve it.” King Richard crossed his arms and
stared down at him. “These men do not deserve it. Sir Crispin saved your life.”

The king rubbed his beard, considering. “Do you believe Sir Crispin’s word?”

“Yes, your majesty!” Ethan answered without hesitation.

“What about Lord John there?”

Ethan turned to look where the king was pointing. Jack was slumped against the block, pale and shaking, his tunic soaked with blood. Ethan’s eyes traveled past him to Madeline. She was limp in Simon’s arms, eyes locked wide in terror.

“Your majesty, Lord John married Matlock’s daughter against his will. The two men have been bitter enemies since. Lord John wouldn’t so much as swat a fly for Matlock, let alone
conspire to
harm your person.”

Again King Richard narrowed his eyes and stared down at the platform in thought. To his side Pennington bristled.

“Your majesty,” Pennington spoke, his voice nasal from his injuries.
“Lord John is not a lord at all. He is a filthy peasant who should have been hung as a horse thief
. Your brother raised him up against the natural order of things to spite you.
”