The Faithful Heart (46 page)

Tom leapt over Simon and squatted next to her
as she sobbed, face pale, hands shaking. He pushed her hands away.
The bolts had penetrated Simon’s body but not near his heart. “You
can’t take them out, Joanna,” he explained in a quiet voice. “He
could die.”

Her eyes flickered up to see her brother’s
body. “He … he … he’s dead,” Joanna sobbed and collapsed into Tom’s
arms. “Toby!” Tom tried to hold her close but she struggled out of
his arms and scrambled over Simon. She threw herself at her brother
and wailed over his prone form.

Tom let out a sharp breath, squeezing his
eyes shut for a moment and crossing himself. He swallowed and
opened his eyes, focusing on Simon amidst Joanna’s mad cries
filling the room. He tightened his hand around one of the bolts in
Simon’s back. Neither of them had sunk deep. If they had hit
Simon’s ribs instead of his vital organs maybe he still had a
chance.

Ethan hobbled into the barn, eyes hollow, and
collapsed beside Toby and Joanna. Joanna’s cries stopped abruptly
and she recovered herself enough to straighten. Without looking at
Ethan she smoothed Toby’s hair from his lifeless face. She smiled
at the distant grin he still wore. Ethan reached for Toby’s arms,
pulling them across his blood-soaked tunic and crossing them over
his shredded heart. He took Joanna’s hands and pressed them over
Toby’s then covered her hands with his. Joanna closed her eyes and
wept.

Tom whipped his head around as Aubrey cried
out in shock and pain and Crispin shouted in surprise as the hearty
cry of their baby’s first wailing breath split the air. It was
echoed moments later by a low, weak groan from Simon. His eyes flew
back to the steward.

“He’s not dead!” Tom shouted, unexpected hope
filling him.

“It’s a boy!” Crispin announced to Aubrey as
he cradled his son in his arms, eyes alight with wonder.

The heavy-laden branches of the orchard trees
muffled most of the sound coming from the village. Even the smell
of smoke was drowned by the crisp scent of leaves and grass.
Madeline gripped her swords, teeth bared as she ran through the
trees. Jack was half a step behind her, Lydia several yards
ahead.

“Stop and face me, you bitch!” she screamed.
She had never known hatred like this was possible. “You won’t get
away with this!”

Lydia jumped over a protruding root and
changed directions, sprinting off to the side. Madeline stumbled as
she tried to make the change, falling to her knees.

Jack stopped to help her to her feet. “What
are you doing?” he panted.

“I won’t let her do this, Jack! I won’t let
her destroy our home and steal our lives like this!”

She wrenched away from him and charged after
Lydia again.

“I stole your life?” Lydia wheeled around to
face them, nothing but a torch to defend herself. “You took
everything I ever wanted!”

“You’re nothing but a conniving cow!”
Madeline lunged at her, sword outstretched.

“Madeline, stop!” Jack jumped after her.

Lydia batted away the poorly-aimed thrust
with her torch. Madeline lost her grip and dropped the sword. With
a mad light in her eyes Lydia threw the flaming torch at her skirt
then turned and ran.

Madeline shrieked as her shift caught
fire.

“Madeline!” Jack ran to her and slapped at
the flames. He was able to put the fire out but as his glance shot
up to Lydia’s retreating back the flames of another fire flared
hotter.

“Right, I am through with this!” He charged
after her.

Madeline broke into a run as Jack raced to
catch Lydia. The trees around them swayed and clawed at them as
they ducked and dodged their roots and branches. Lydia glanced over
her shoulder, eyes wild with panic, and changed directions again.
Madeline was ready this time and cut to follow her without
stumbling. She gained on her, shoving past Jack and shouting with a
wordless cry of vengeance. Lydia pushed on as hard and fast as she
could, ignoring everything but escape.

“Stop!” Jack shouted behind her with a whole
new kind of alarm as they reached the end of the trees. Madeline
gasped as he tackled her, throwing her to the ground and covering
her body with his. Lydia shot ahead, out of the orchard and into
the apiary. Jack tried to cover Madeline’s head but she struggled
to get away, thinking of nothing but strangling Lydia.

Moments later she saw why Jack was covering
her and stopped struggling, watching in horror.

Lydia barreled into the nearest beehive,
sending it tumbling over into its neighbor. Her momentum carried
her on, smashing into another hive and another as she lost her
balance. Each hive that she upset spewed forth a hoard of angry
bees. They swarmed, turning the air black as it filled with a
roaring buzz. Lydia screamed as the bees attacked. They closed in
on her from all sides, stinging every inch of her face and arms,
getting caught in her clothes as she swatted and stumbled. Her
screams grew louder, harsher as she fell to her knees. The noise
was deafening as the bees swarmed together to protect their hives,
their queens, their land.

Madeline hid her face under Jack’s arms as
Lydia’s screams turned into sick, choking cries, her cries drowned
out by the angry hum that grew in intensity until it made the trees
and the earth shake. Lydia fell on her face, her whole body covered
in one black mass. The swarm threatened to spread out, to expand to
the surrounding trees.

Jack used his body to shelter Madeline as
they slunk back across the ground, keeping as low as they could
until they were far enough to jump to their feet and turn to
run.

They didn’t stop running until they made it
back through the orchard and out into the road in front of the
storehouse. The battle was over. All that was left were soldiers
picking over the dead and helping the villagers to put out the last
of the fires. The manor was destroyed and some of the houses and
trees near to it, but Kedleridge as a whole had made it
through.

A group of villagers near the sweet-smelling
charred remains of the trees closest to the blackened manor saw
them emerge from the orchard, sooty, bloodied, and bruised. “My
lord!” one of them yelled, “You’re alive!”

A wave of rejoicing swept through the
exhausted, battered people. Eyes that had been bleak with despair
brightened, white teeth standing out through grimy faces. The
forest girl Kitty broke away from a cluster of children that had
been herded into a pasture apart from the now smoldering buildings.
She ran straight for Jack, throwing her arms around his waist and
burying her head against his stomach.

“I’m alright,” he half-laughed, half-grunted
in pain as she pressed his battle wounds. “We’re gonna be
alright.”

Madeline smiled uncontrollably as she wiped
the tears that cut lines through her dirty face. The Kedleridge
people crowded in on them, weeping themselves amidst their beaming
smiles of relief, surging forward to touch her and Jack to be sure
that they were really there. Madeline’s heart swelled with pride as
she watched Jack shake hands with each of them and hug them,
bruised, filthy, but not beaten.

He met her eyes and broke away from them to
sweep her into his arms and kiss her, fiercer than any fire. A
spattering of applause and shouts from the villagers around them
made Jack break away, blushing like a rogue.

She had never seen anyone look more noble in
all her life.

Epilogue

Jack gripped Madeline’s hand and helped her
up the stairs to the dais overlooking the jousting arena where
Crispin and Aubrey and baby Wulfric were waiting for them.

“I think it’s a bit crowded up here,” she
muttered over her shoulder as he joined her.

“What?” He glanced past her to see Matlock
standing at the far end of the raised platform. Their eyes met.
Jack glared at him and was met by mutual hatred.

“Never mind him.” Madeline tilted her chin
up. “He means nothing to us.”

She turned to smooth his tunic across his
shoulders, fingers brushing across the new ensign for Kedleridge
that they had devised with Simon’s help. It was a red cross against
a black field with silver bees in two of the quadrants created by
the cross and silver trees in the other two. As far as Jack was
concerned nothing could represent his manor better. Simon had been
busy sewing the new emblem on all his and Madeline’s clothes as he
recovered from his near-fatal wounds.

“Where have you been? We’re about to begin.”
Crispin came to greet him, turning away from Matlock to thump
Jack’s back in a show of welcome for all the assembled nobles and
commoners to see.

“Oy, we got busy, mate,” Jack winked.

Crispin arched an eyebrow. He shook his head.
“I thought you might like to do the honors.” He glanced over his
shoulder and gestured to Pennington who stood next to Matlock.

A wicked grin split Jack’s face. “Don’t mind
if I do.”

Crispin nodded and walked to the edge of the
dais, holding up his hands to silence the humming crowd. “Ladies
and gentlemen, my lords and you, the people of Derby. I thank you
for the kindness and generosity you have shown throughout this
season and in this last week of the festival and tournament. Your
efforts have not gone unnoticed. Lord John of Kedleridge has an
announcement for you.”

He stepped aside for Jack to take his place.
Jack squeezed Madeline’s hand before striding to the place of honor
at the front of the platform. He sent Aubrey a wink which she
returned with a roll of her eyes, bouncing her baby in her arms.
There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the little tyke even
though he’d been born so early. He was going to take after his
father, toughness and all. Jack’s glance drifted past the boy to
Joanna, still pale and expressionless, dressed in black six weeks
after her brother’s death. Jack’s heart went out to her. Toby had
given his life to save them.

He turned to face the crowd spread out in
front of him. The daises and stands set up around the jousting
arena were packed with Derbyshire’s nobles in their finest clothes.
They looked to him with expectation, knowing what he was there to
announce. They looked to him with respect.

The story of the attack at Kedleridge and the
defense that had been mounted had spread throughout the shire, and
with it the announcement that the outlaws in the Derbywood had been
routed. Jack had gone from being an upstart peasant to a brave
knight intent on defending not only his manor but the noble way of
life. It was complete bollocks as far as Jack was concerned, but he
wasn’t about to set any of the nobs straight.

He addressed the common people, spread around
the edges of the arena instead. “My good people!” he began, his
accent as clear and perfect as any nob. “My friends! I stand before
you today to share with you the news that Derbyshire has paid its
share of the king’s ransom!”

A cheer rose up from noble and peasant alike.
Jack glanced over his shoulder to Madeline. She closed her hand
over the rosary around her neck and winked at him. He caught her
glancing across to her father with a defiant grin. No one had been
able to prove that Matlock had been involved in the attack on
Kedleridge. Pennington had served as his alibi, supporting
Matlock’s claim that he knew nothing about the activities of a
bunch of forest outlaws. The mercenaries that had survived the
battle had disappeared.

“Sir Arthur Pennington has come from London,”
Jack went on, sending Pennington a sharp stare, “to collect the
last of Derbyshire’s contribution to the ransom.” He turned to the
man and barked, “Oy, Pennington, you wanna say somethin’, mate?”
with every bit of cocky peasant he could put on.

Pennington gave him a nervous smile, stealing
a glance to Matlock before edging around Jack to the front of the
dais. “Um, thank you Derbyshire!” He raised a shaky hand and waved
before tripping over himself to get as far away from Jack as
possible.

Jack hoped the smug sense of satisfaction he
felt at the man’s cowardice didn’t make him as hoity-toity as the
rest of the nobs watching the scene. “As a result of the incredible
generosity of the people of Derbyshire, Prince John himself has
sent his thanks. He will provide men and materials so that a
permanent marketplace can be set up in Derby to generate trade in
the area and improve the lot of lord and peasant alike.”

Another cheer went up from the crowd. Jack
sighed in satisfaction as he looked out over the celebrating
masses. A permanent market would be just the thing to ensure that
both high and low in Derbyshire would have the power to live out
their lives in comfort. It would also keep him and Crispin well on
their toes for years to come. He glanced to his friend, stepping
aside so that Crispin could take the stage again.

As Crispin came to take his place Jack caught
sight of a lone, ragged figure standing out amidst the common
people below. He’d grown a beard and was dressed in a simple brown
tunic, but it was definitely Ethan. Jack blinked. No one had seen
Ethan since the day Toby was laid to rest in Windale church’s
graveyard. Jack glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed.
He looked around on the wild chance that Roderick was there as
well. Roderick had gone missing after the battle of Kedleridge.
Jack doubted the murderous little twit would throw his lot in with
Ethan again. He searched for Ethan once more, but the man was gone.
The crush of people was too dense to catch sight of him.

“Thank you all for your continued support and
generosity,” Crispin said his final words as Jack gave up
searching. It was probably better for him to get lost anyhow. “A
public feast will be held in the field beside this arena after the
final joust.” Crispin nodded and turned to walk back to Aubrey and
his son.

“He never was much on making speeches.” Jack
took Madeline’s arm and lead her to a pair of chairs at the end of
the dais.