The Dark One: Dark Knight (116 page)

     Dane shook his head. “Aunt Rory was worse.
She used to steal from the men-at-arms. Once, she stole a pair of little silver
balls in a silk pouch. We never did figure out what the balls were for, but
they rolled rather nicely.”

     Gaston's eyes widened and he cleared his
throat, choking off a guffaw. He'd seen such balls, although he'd never
personally used them on a woman. Tale had it that they were from the continent,
far beyond the Teutonic countries, even beyond India.

     He took his leg off the bench, watching the
boys drain their cups. He found his gaze drawn to Dane.

     “Tell me, Dane. Did your father have any
close friends in Yorkshire? I mean particularly close?”

     Dane thought. “Douglass Archibald of
Spofforth was a friend of my father’s. And Lord Botmore. Lord Brimley and his
sons used to visit sometimes, as did Lord Tarrington. But that was all.”

     Gaston knew of those men and planned to
contact them. He pondered his options as his sons finished the last of their
food and drink, wondering where in the hell to begin this most monumental search.
Truth was, he wanted to search every castle and manor house personally, but he
knew the impossibility of such a feat, which was why he wanted Nicolas and a
good portion of his knights to assist him. With enough manpower, he could cover
all of North Yorkshire and his chances of finding Remington would be positive.

     The stab of pain sliced at him again, the
familiar cut he was coming to associate with her disappearance. With each cut,
he felt his determination double, triple. He would find her and he would kill
Stoneley, and he would furthermore kill whoever assisted Guy in his dastardly
deed. His fury was beyond anything he had ever felt before. More hatred than he
thought possible.

     The Dark One's wrath would know no mercy.

     He ordered an older serving woman to see to
Dane and Trenton's comfort as he wandered back to the solar. Charles had awoken
from his slumber and was finishing the final touches on the missive to Nicolas.
Gaston read the missive with satisfaction; Charles was a well-learned young man
and Gaston suspected he would make a better scholar than knight, no matter how
badly he wanted to fight. As frail and thin as he was, Gaston made a mental
note to discourage the further pursuit of warrior arts.

     The sun rose and riders were prepared to
deliver the three missives. Gaston himself saw to the readying of the
messengers, lecturing each man on the importance of what he was to carry.
Charles sealed the missives in sheepskin pouches to protect them, carrying them
out into the dusty bailey, smelling of manure and urine and dirt in the rising
temperature. Already late June, the heat of the summer was beginning to
announce itself loudly.

     A sentry on the wall let out a call of an
approaching rider. Gaston instinctively stiffened, thinking Stoneley was indeed
closing in on Mt. Holyoak and he was wildly gleeful with the surprise that
awaited the man. But the soldiers on the wall indicated only one rider, and his
heart sank a little. If it were indeed Stoneley, then he was sans Remington.

     And he would only be without her if she
were de….he broke out in a cold sweat.

     The rider was bearing Ingilsby yellow and
gray. Gaston called for the portcullis to raise and greeted the rider just
inside the entry.

     The knight, young with wide brown eyes,
saluted sharply.

     “My lord.” he greeted loudly. “Thank God I
have found you. Lord Ingilsby suspected that you might be at Mt. Holyoak, but
we were not entirely sure. With Stoneley running loose, we....”

     Gaston grabbed the reins of the destrier,
his eyes wide and his massive body rigid. “What do you know of Stoneley's
escape?”

     “We know that he abducted his wife and
brought her north,” the knight replied. “He sold her to Ripley's captain at a
tavern in Stanford-on-Avon and....”

     Gaston cut him off by grabbing him sharply,
yanking him completely off the destrier. The young knight struggled to his
feet, still in the iron grip of the Duke of Warminster. When he turned
surprised eyes to the duke, he was met with a glare of such anger that it
frightened him.

     “Cease with your prattling tale,” Gaston
hissed, mere threads away from snapping the knight's arm in half. “Where in the
hell is Remington?”

     The knight winced as Gaston twisted his arm
even tighter, but a faint glaze of a smile managed to twist his lips. “That is
what I am trying to tell you, my lord,” he said quietly. “She's at Ripley, safe
and whole.”

     Gaston's mouth went agape and every last
bit of color drained from his face. He stared at the knight as if he did not
comprehend him, or at least he thought mayhap he heard only what he wished to
hear. But the knight was smiling, whipping him back to his senses as he
realized that, indeed, he had heard correctly.

     “She's at
Ripley
?” he echoed, his
voice a whisper.

     The knight nodded. “Aye, my lord. Sir
Hubert Doyle saved her from her husband.”

     Gaston blinked, slammed with the news. He
let go of the knight’s arm and put a hand against the entry wall to steady
himself; he could feel himself weaving with shock. “She's all right?”

     “Not a scratch, my lord.” The knight
replied.

     Gaston gazed at the knight a moment longer
and closed his gawking mouth, licking his lips that were dry. He could hardly
believe what he had just heard, but believe he did. Excitement and relief
exploded in his chest, coming forth as a loud exhale of pure disbelief.

     When he turned to Roald, he was aware that
his whole body was shaking with pure assuagement. “My destrier,” he ordered
hoarsely.

     Roald was already moving, bellowing for the
duke's mount and ordering an escort readied to accompany him. Gaston turned
away from the knight, his mind consumed with Remington, but he retained enough
of his manners to stop before he rudely departed.

     He faced the young knight. “Thank you for
delivering the message, my lord. Might I have your name?”

     “Sir Adam Nelson, my lord,” the man said.
“And it was my pleasure. Lord Ingilsby and Sir Hugh surmised just how frantic
you would be. As soon as Lady Remington arrived, I was sent on my way.”

     Gaston looked pale and shaken. He was
elated beyond believing; in fact, he still had difficulty grasping the
situation. “Not a scratch, you say?”

     Adam shook his head, smiling broadly. “Nary
a mark. She is tired, of course, but that is all.”

     Gaston nodded slowly, his eyes becoming
distant. But not before he extended his gratitude one more time. “Thank you.”

     Within a quarter hour, he was mounted and
riding for Ripley.

***

     The plan was simple. Lay siege to Mt.
Holyoak, distract the army inside, and slip in through the secret entrance Guy
had built into the wall by the kitchens. It was an entrance seldom used by the
peasants because of the sheer fifty-foot drop to one side of the two-foot-wide
path. When Guy had it built, it had originally been constructed as an escape
route should the drawbridge ever be compromised. He never dreamed he would use
it to breach his own fortress.

     Problem was, that only one man at a time
could enter through it. This would lay them open to snipers by the greater
forces inside, when and if the breach was discovered. It was Guy's hope that he
could lead enough men through the opening to effectively quell de Russe's men
and reach the greater goal of opening the portcullis and drawbridge.

     Keith Botmore was more than eager to mount
two hundred men for the reclamation of Mt. Holyoak. After Guy convinced the man
that they both had suffered so terribly at the hand of de Russe, and after they
had drunk a good deal of wine and discussed Derek's entire life, Keith was
over-anxious to go to war against the Duke of Warminster.

     He was a foolish man, rash to seek revenge
before stopping to think of what he was doing. He knew full well of de Russe's
reputation, of his strength in aiding Henry. He knew de Russe led an army of a
thousand and he furthermore knew the man wielded mayhap the greatest military
power in all of England. But he was still eager to overrun Mt. Holyoak and
regain it for his ally, escaped prisoner though he might be. He simply saw that
he was exacting revenge for his son; Guy saw it for what it was, and that was
regaining what was morally his.

     Guy was using Botmore for what the man
could do for him; as long as Botmore agreed to Guy's demands, Guy was his very
best friend. But any refusal on Botmore's part, and Guy would turn on him like
a viper.

     In armor that had once belonged to Derek,
Guy sat astride a powerful gray destrier next to Keith as the lord's army was
assembled. He felt a distinct pull of power, the days of old when he led his
own army against the Tudor. In a sense, he was doing it again, only this time
the adversary was far more powerful.

     He would rid de Russe from his keep once
and for all.

     Guy and Keith led Botmore's army from the
confines of Knaresborough, edging the town of the same name on their trek
northeast to the Vale of York. The peasants turned out en masse to witness the
army mobilizing, wondering if the War of the Roses had not yet ended, in fact,
and they were due for another series of battles. The fact that their liege was
moving to overtake another Yorkist keep never occurred to them.

     The army moved along the vacated road, not a
town nor an obstacle between them and their destination. They veered northeast
just south of Boroughbridge, trampling the early summer grass in the fertile
vale. The closer they drew, the more Guy's adrenalin began to flow.

     Mt. Holyoak would soon be in his grasp. He
predicted no more than twelve hours before the fortress fell and her gates
opened wide for the invading army. The design was rudimentary; Botmore would
create a diversion and lay siege to the bridge of the keep, drawing the
attention of the army inside. Meanwhile, Guy and 75 men would build ladders to
straddle the moat. When the makeshift bridges were complete, they would lay
them across the deep moat and crawl across to the small footpath that bordered
the wall. From there, they would breach the small wall gate and file in.

     Simple enough, but Guy knew they were
likely to lose a great many men against de Russe's skeleton force. Moreover, he
wondered if de Russe wasn’t already there; spies had returned stating that
activity was normal, which meant additional men led by the duke had not
arrived. If, in fact, de Russe was bringing a massive army to rescue Remington,
he could quite possibly have come alone, the idea of which intrigued Guy. Why
would he come alone to rescue his whore? Why would not he bring all of bloody
England to assist him?

     He still could and Guy knew it, which was
why the quick recapture of Mt. Holyoak was imperative. Guy wanted to be in
complete control when de Russe arrived.

     The very top of his revered keep came into
view shortly after noon. Men moved into battle-heightened positions, shields
raised and swords drawn, as they continued to march. The knights, only six of
them, slung their shields over their left knee for quick access. Guy felt the
familiar surge of battle flush through his limbs, the excitement that finally,
he would regain his home. Even as they drew nearer to the keep and they could
see the drawbridge hastily rising, he felt the thrill of the fight like a
potent aphrodisiac. It excited him like none other.

     There was no pretense, no words exchanged.
Botmore led the majority of his army up the narrow road of Mt. Holyoak and let
loose a barrage of Welsh archers, flame arrows to the drawbridge. Most fell, a
few stuck, and the burning began.

     Down in the surrounding trees, Guy was
whipping his smaller army into a frenzy cutting down trees and stripping
saplings. He could smell the smoke from the bridge and he could hear faint
shouting and he smiled; battle always made him smile.

     Finally the time was upon him and his
redemption was at hand; the redemption of his
pride
. Turning back to his
sweating soldiers, he whooped words of encouragement.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

     It was late afternoon when Gaston and his
small escort rode into the cramped bailey of Ripley Castle. The sun was hot,
the air dusty around him, but he wasn't aware of anything other than the fact
Remington was within these old walls. He was completely focused as Sir Adam led
him to the stairs of the castle. Gaston's gaze was locked to the structure, as
if he could look through the stone and find Remington inside.