Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (21 page)

She turned to face them, tears
gone, a brave front at hand. Whether or not she felt strong enough, she would
nonetheless show them a collected soul.

“He was not a large man, perhaps
slightly taller than me. His frame was slight, but he had strong arms. He will
have dog bites on his ankle, as my little protector had a good grip on him.”
She paused a moment, trying not to shudder as she thought about the man who had
killed her mother and very nearly killed her as well. “He also had a wound to
his forehead, perhaps from a blow. It was very bruised.”

“He will also have a wound on his
head where Lady Aubrielle crowned him with the ash shovel,” Kenneth looked to
his men. “With that kind of damage, he should not be too hard to find. I will
expect this man located by dawn.”

Everett and Bradley quit the
room, determined and professional to carry out the command. When they were
gone, Kenneth looked at Aubrielle once again. Her pale pallor had returned,
drained from the evening’s events. Describing her attacker had taken something
more out of her.

“Perhaps you should try and
sleep,” he urged gently. “It will be some time before they have found anyone
for you to look at.”

She went towards the bed, not
particularly sleepy, but physically exhausted.  The scroll still lay upon the
linen and she sat down, picking up the parchment as she did so.

“Do you suppose that all of this
is my punishment for stealing this scroll?” she asked. “I fear God is angry at
me for breaking his commandment.”

He shrugged weakly. “I am not
sure that God would resort to murdering your mother in punishment for the sin
of stealing.  I am more concerned with why someone would want it so badly as to
kill for it. Perhaps there is more to that scroll than what you have told me.”

She shook her head. “I have
translated the entire parchment. It only speaks of the Grail and its location.”

He didn’t know what more to say
to that. He thought perhaps to take a look at it himself since he could read
and write Latin. Although he did not want to leave her alone, he wanted very
much to be part of the search for her attacker. His sense of honor and his
feelings for her dictated as much. But there was also a great deal of vengeance
involved as well. Aubrielle sensed his thoughts and knew it was foolish for him
to sit with her, idle, while his men turned the castle upside-down.

“I am sure the search would go
much faster were you involved,” she suggested. “I am sure a few soldiers
outside my door would protect me quiet sufficiently. Besides, I have my
champion right here.”

They both looked at the little
mutt, lying next to the bed. The dog’s tail thumped against the floor.

“That pup is worth his weight in
gold,” Kenneth agreed. “This isn’t the first time he has protected you.” He
took a long, last look at her lovely face. “Very well.  If you insist I search,
search I shall.”

She smiled, weakly. Kenneth
couldn’t help himself from kissing her forehead, her hand, and finally her
lips.  The tenderness was so deep that his limbs tingled from the pure joy of
it. He smiled warmly at her, stroking her cheek.

“I shall be back,” he whispered
huskily.

Aubrielle watched him go, too
many thoughts racing through her mind. She was tremendously thankful to have
such a man at her side.  When she thought of their first meeting in the forest,
she could have thrashed herself ragged for her behavior towards him. Little had
she known what a large part her would play in her future.

Where she had thought moments
before that God was angry with her, she was coming to think that God was
rewarding her instead. Kenneth St. Héver could be explained no other way.

***

The lady had packed a wallop, of
that there was no doubt. Though she had been able to flee his attack, he had
been fortunate enough to wake and escape the chamber before she returned with
aide.

Athelred staggered down the dark,
narrow steps and back into the great hall where the wounded still slept. It was
a clever cover, actually; perhaps no one to think to look for him with the
injured. He was, after all, injured himself. First de Gaul had knocked him on
the head, and then the lady had hit him. Even if he was spotted, no one would
think anything of the massive lump that now covered most of his forehead. 
Never mind the fresh blood smeared across it. He was hoping the darkness would
cover for him.

He lay like a stone on the cold
floor of the great hall. As he had known, the lady returned some time later
with the massive blond knight and the two of them made haste to the second
floor. They were followed several minutes later by more knights bearing
weapons. It wasn’t long before the castle was roused for a search, though, as
he had hoped, the wounded were spared. That did not, however, prevent the
knights from walking through their midst. Especially the big blond knight; the
man had a weighty presence.  He could feel their stares inspecting him even
though he lay on his stomach, his face to the floor. He was terrified someone
would turn him over to look at him. But they passed by and moved on.

Relief swept him as the footfalls
and voices faded. Time passed and he continued to lay there, unmoving, hardly
breathing. He’d long since lost sight of the companion he had come here with,
the man whose leg de Gaul had so gleefully broken. Now he could no longer
concern himself with the man. He had to make another attempt at the lady, at
some point, or his life would be forfeit.  When the excitement of this night
died down and the castle once again became complacent, he would find another
way to strike.

Athelred had no concept of time
as he lay there. It could have been minutes or hours. Eventually, he rolled
over onto his back and lay staring up at the ceiling. The room around him was
dark and silent. He lifted his head slightly, looked around, and lay back down
again.  He was sure he had missed the threat and was now at ease to attempt
sleep.

The knight who had coerced him
and Thomas into a murder plot was nowhere to be found, but he suspected the man
would find them soon enough to rage over their failure.  Fact was, he hadn’t
even been trying to kill her. He simply wanted to abduct her and the scroll and
take her back to de Gaul. Only pure chance had seen the dark knight plot with
him and his companion to kill her. God and the Devil worked in mysterious ways,
whichever you chose to believe in. Personally, Athelred believed in Satan. 
He’d seen too much evil in the world to believe in a God.

Another attempt would have to be
made, but not right away. The furor over this attack must die down before there
was any further movement. Closing his eyes, he began to dream of another time
and place that he and the lovely lady would resume their struggles. This time,
he would win.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

By the coming of the cold, gray
dawn, they had not found Aubrielle’s attacker. They had several men in their
possession that remotely fit the description, but none were exact. The
frightened, gnarled group was herded into the vault to await their fate.
Frustrated and exhausted from a fruitless night of the hunt, Kenneth waited
until after sunrise to wake Aubrielle. He wanted to make sure they had
exhausted all efforts before disrupting her. A sleepy-eyed lady appeared in the
vault as the sun mounted the eastern horizon, but she could not identify any of
the suspects.

The knights were sorry they had
not been able to find her assailant. Everett was positively bitter about it. 
As brutal as the lady had treated him, still, he wanted to please her like a
child constantly seeking parental approval. When Kenneth took Aubrielle back up
to her chamber after failing to identify her attacker, the other knights
regrouped to plot a fresh strategy with renewed determination; an attack on their
lady while there were several healthy knights sworn to protect her was an
attack on their honor.  In a selfish way, there was more at stake than simply
the lady’s safety. They were better than they had thus far demonstrated.

The only knight who seemed to not
feel that way was Lucius. He had not been told about the search initially. He
had woken to the noise of the search in the bailey and had proceeded to coerce
young Max to tell him what was afoot. He had forced himself upon the search,
but it was apparent that he was indifferent. Captain of Kirk’s forces or not,
he had no stake in this. His stake had died with the earl. With Kenneth
preparing to become the new lord and master, Lucius was fast retreating into
his own world, one where he had no rank or position. And the more he retreated,
the more dangerous he became.

No one was more aware of this
than Kenneth. With the whirlwind of events over the past few days, he had
thought to put it off sending the man along his way.  In truth, he had hoped
that Lucius would show a measure of strength and come to accept the change of
events at Kirk. But the more he observed the man, the more obvious it became
that he could no longer delay in carrying out his original plans. The sooner
Lucius le Cor was out of the castle, the better for them all.  Though
apparently not tied to the assault against Aubrielle the previous evening,
Lucius was nonetheless a credible and independent threat that could not be
tolerated.

The matter of sending him away,
however, meant confirming to Aubrielle who had initiated the first assault
against her.  Kenneth had thought to spare her the grief, but the decision to
send the captain of Kirk’s forces away would rest on her more than any of them.
Without official power and title, Kenneth could do nothing. Aubrielle would
have to make the decision.

In the bright of day, the
harrowing previous night seemed far away. Aubrielle was feeling well enough to
bark in her usual manner at the toothless serving wench, who went scrambling
for the morning meal.  She smirked as the woman fled the room and smacked into
the wall in her haste. It was cruel to laugh, but it had been humorous to watch
nonetheless. Kenneth cocked a reproving eyebrow at her, which she pretended not
to notice.  She felt better this morning than she had in days. While she
rummaged sloppily through her trunks in search of something to wear, Kenneth
stood formally and properly by the door.  Though they were betrothed, still,
his manner remained official in the capacity of her vassal as he stood in her
bedchamber. There was business at hand. Until he could figure out how to strike
a balance, switching easily between lover and professional knight, he would
stay with what he knew best. Kenneth knew little else but formalities.

“There are many things to
discuss, my lady,” he said. “I would like a moment of your time when it is
convenient.”

She didn’t look up at him,
throwing mounds of garments on the floor as she searched.  The pup jumped about
in the clothing and snarled at it. “What kind of things?” she asked.

Kenneth saw irony in that
question. “There is the matter of your mother, of course. There is the matter
of your attack last night. There is the matter of our wedding.  And there is
another matter I have yet to mention to you but find that it must now be
addressed.”

She almost fell backwards yanking
out a yellow brocade gown that was caught on something inside the chest.
Kenneth repressed a grin as she stumbled backwards and almost ended on her
backside.  The dog, thinking she was playing a game, leaped around her
excitedly.

“If you organized your things
better, you might not come to personal injury whilst in your search,” he
suggested helpfully.

She inspected the garment. “You
will keep your observations to yourself.”

“Are you always so messy?”

“Do you always butt in where your
opinion is neither asked for nor required?”

“Not usually. But this is a
special case, I could not help myself.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “My
organization skills are none of your concern unless that was one of the items
on our agenda today.”

“God knows, it should be,” he
muttered, watching her frown. He came back at her. “But more to the point, your
decision is needed on several matters, most of which I have listed. Therefore,
when you are finished with your meal and dressing, I would appreciate your time
and attention.”

She shrugged, looking back at the
dress.  “As you wish.”

“Then I shall leave you to your
morning.” He turned for the door. “Send for me when you are ready, my lady.”

“I shall send for you now.” She laid
the dress on the bed. “You may eat with me and we will discuss your agenda over
the meal.”

“As much as that would please me,
there is much that requires my attention. We did not find your attacker last
night and that has me gravely concerned. I feel that my time would be better
served heading the continued search.”

She looked at him as if he was an
idiot. “So you would leave me alone at a time like this? What kind of man would
do such a thing?”

“A man who would protect his
lady.”