Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (38 page)

Aubrielle stared at him. Then it
was her turn to sigh heavily. She lowered her gaze and found the nearest chair.
She sat slowly, bewildered and sorrowful.

“I simply do not want to lose
you,” she spoke so softly that he could barely hear her. “I came very close to
losing you, once. It was the worst moment of my life. I swear that I would die
if anything happened to you. I could not go on.”

He went to the chair and knelt
beside her. His big hand stroked her dark head. “Sweetheart, I understand how
you feel. Believe me, I do. But a fear of death must not keep us from
fulfilling our destiny in life. Does the fear of death in childbirth keep you
from wanting a brother or sister for Bren?”

She shook her head. “Of course
not. But that is life renewing itself and the risk is well worth the result.
But for you to deliberately go into battle, when you know that every Welshman
will be aiming his arrows at you… it terrifies me.”

He kissed the side of her head,
stroking her hair, hoping he could somehow comfort her.  “I will do my best to
stay clear of their arrows, I promise you. And I will do everything in my power
to return to you and Bren safe and whole.”

She turned to him, wrapping her
slender arms around his neck.  Their eyes met and they shared a tender moment.
“I love you so, Ken,” she murmured as she brushed her lips across his. “I would
be lost without you.”

He returned her kisses, gently.
“And you are the heart that beats within me. I love you more than my own life.”

The smell and taste of him made Aubrielle’s
chest hurt, the pain of separation manifesting itself. Tears sprang to her eyes
at the thought of never knowing the joy of him again. She wrapped her arms
tightly around his neck and buried her face against him, tears coming softly.
He held her tightly, allowing her to express her fear. He only wished he could
give her more comfort.

“Do not cry, sweetheart,” he
murmured. “I know your trepidation. I can only swear to you that I will do my
very best to return to you and Bren.”

She sniffled and tried to compose
herself. “I suppose I must get used to this, as a warrior’s wife. I was just
hoping we could go the rest of our lives avoiding a battle.”

“Believe me when I say that I
would not go if I did not feel it absolutely necessary.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I should like to leave on the
morrow.”

Her eyes widened. “So soon?”

“The sooner I go, the sooner I
return.”

She had nothing more to say. They
were both well aware of the situation. Kenneth collected her in his arms and
rocked her like a child. Aubrielle chased away the last of her tears as he set
her on the ground. They had one night together before he left and she did not
intend to spend it weeping like a fool. She offered him a weak smile.

“There are minstrels in the hall
tonight,” she said. “Perhaps we should go downstairs and enjoy the evening.
Perhaps I shall allow you to dance with me.”

He wriggled his blond eyebrows.
“I think I have done enough dancing lately.”

She scowled. “The last you danced
with me was at our wedding.”

“That was recent enough.”

She made a face at him and he
laughed.  It was enough to cause her to playfully pinch him.

“Perhaps I am hoping you’ll trip
and break a leg and be unable to ride out tomorrow.”

“Ah. Then I shall thwart your
plan at every turn.”

She cast him a long look. “We
shall see, my lord.”

He watched her saunter out of the
door in front of him. “You are a wicked wench,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said I would rather sit on the
bench… with you than dance.”

The sea colored eyes blazed at
him, but it was with humor. “You,” she pointed a delicate finger at him, “are
in a good deal of trouble.”

“God help me, I know it.”

She smirked and he chuckled
softly, catching her hand and kissing the fingers. Leaving the toothless
serving wench watching over the sleeping Brennan, Kenneth and Aubrielle made
their way down to the hall and were enveloped by the mood of the glowing
evening.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Kenneth felt like an idiot.

He found it ironic that Aubrielle
had remained so stoic and strong at his departure to Dolforwyn Castle when he
had struggled through it like a fool. She had smiled at him and bid a cheery
farewell, taking Brennan’s fat little hand and waving it at his father. Kenneth
had been so crushed at the sight that it had manifested itself into barking
orders and a brusque manner. To anyone that served under Kenneth, it was simply
his normal battle mode. No one suspected that inside, he wept like a woman.

A weak, foolish, insipid bundle
of raging emotion; that’s exactly what he was. He cursed his inability to
control his feelings.  Riding ahead of his mighty army for the first time in
the capacity of earl should have been a proud experience, but the satisfaction
Kenneth should have felt was diminished by the ache in his heart. All he could
see was Aubrielle and Brennan waving to him from the steps of the keep. He
missed them terribly

It didn’t help matters that he
couldn’t shake the odd sense of foreboding that clung to him. He’d been feeling
this strange sensation since yesterday but had refrained from mentioning it
simply because he attributed it to Aubrielle’s own fears. Something she had
said, or perhaps her manner, had infected him. Now he was fearful, too, and he
couldn’t rid himself of the feeling.  But it wasn’t for himself, strangely
enough. His fear was inexplicably for her.

Reid’s shouting distracted him
from his morose thoughts. He was bellowing to the wagons to keep steady pace,
causing the wagon- masters to smack the hides of their big-boned horses
furiously with their whips. Everett and Bradley were flanking the foot
soldiers, keeping the marching rhythm quick and steady. Two siege engines were
to the rear, with the wagons, pulled by several large heavy-labor horses.

Dolforwyn Castle wasn’t
particularly large and from what his intelligence had told him, the Welsh force
inhabiting her wasn’t particularly organized. Kenneth didn’t expect much of a
resistance. But he had brought most of his knights with him and nearly two thirds
of his army, just to make short work of it. He had left Max in charge of Kirk
with one hundred men and several senior soldiers, locked down and heavily
guarded from the ramparts.

A few drops of rain pelted his
face. He glanced up, noting the darkening sky. The rain increased and he
lowered his visor to keep it from his eyes. He was eager to gain back his
outpost and return to his family, eager to be done with this whole troublesome
business. Whereas once he had looked forward to battles, now he realized that
he didn’t even want to go. There was more to life than fighting and dying;
there was a dark-haired woman and a blond infant he adored.

“We should think about finding
shelter for the night,” Reid rode up beside him, his voice hoarse from
shouting. “Our scouts say that we are only a few miles from Dolforwyn.”

Kenneth nodded slowly, struggling
with the distraction of his thoughts. “Have the men take to the trees and make
camp. It is my intention to lay siege to my castle before dawn and have her
secured by noon. Pass the word.”

“Aye, my lord,” Reid replied. “Do
you realize that this is the first battle we’ve fought in fifteen years without
Lucius?”

Kenneth grunted. “It had crossed
my mind. It seems somewhat strange.”

Reid looked off over the
landscape. “It also seems somewhat strange that Everett was unable to discover
what had become of him when he went to London those months ago.”

“Indeed. The young king said that
he had given him audience and that Lucius made heady demands for his service.
Edward denied him and that was last anyone saw of him.”

“A man like him would not have
simply given up. He is somewhere, living off the good graces of another master.
Or plotting to take over the world.”

“Perhaps both.”

Usually, discussion of Lucius
enticed Kenneth into a strongly-opinionated conversation. But he was strangely
silent today.

”Is anything the matter?” Reid
finally asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“I have fought many battles with
you. I know the tone of your voice and the mood behind every movement. I would
venture to say that there are other things on your mind.”

Kenneth didn’t reply for a
moment. Then, he emitted a long sigh; since knowing his wife, one thing he had
learned was that it was acceptable, from time to time, to let his guard down
with his closest colleagues. Aubrielle had taught him the virtues and comfort
of such an action and Reid was probably the closest. He need not fear judgment
from the man.

After a moment of attempting to
find the right words, he simply shook his head. “I fear I have become a foolish
old woman.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a sense of dread
like nothing I have ever known. Ever since yesterday I have felt this vise
around my heart and I cannot seem to shake it.”

“You fear for this battle?”

“Nay, not this battle. Not even
for my safety. What I feel… it is for Aubrielle. I cannot explain even what it
is that I am afraid for, only that it centers around her.”

Reid shrugged, glancing up into
the darkened sky. “It is your first separation from her and the baby, and not a
pleasant separation at that. It is battle. Perhaps you are afraid you will
never see her again, but I assure you that…”

“No, it is nothing as such. I
feel as if Aubrielle is in danger somehow, although I know she is perfectly
safe at Kirk.  But then I think back to when she first came to Kirk and was
attacked twice when I thought that she was also perfectly safe. Perhaps it was
a mistake to leave her and the baby alone. Perhaps she was right and I should
have sent the army on to Dolforwyn with my competent knights at the head.”

Reid smiled. “Ken, the simple
fact of the matter is that you did not want to leave your wife and child. And
now you are creating phantoms in your mind that do not exist.”

“Like I said, I feel like a
foolish old woman.”

“You shouldn’t. You and Aubrielle
are quite attached to each other. I should think your longing is only natural.”

They rode together in silence for
several long minutes. The rain grew worse as the sky darkened with weather and
the setting of the sun. By the time the army pitched camp and settled in for
the night, Kenneth was nearly in a panic. It was all Reid could do to hold him
in camp. After sup, he lost the battle completely.

***

When Kirk locked down, those who
were caught inside the bailey were forced to remain. The smithy, a few villiens
doing business with the kitchens, and some miscellaneous villagers had resigned
themselves to a long wait.  A few took made up comfortable quarters in or
around the stables, while still others sought shelter within the gatehouse
itself.

Kirk was a massive place. It was
easy to lose oneself. While the soldiers patrolled and the inhabitants went
about their business, the unkempt traveler who had sought comfort and
information at the inn in Preesegweene sat huddled in the shadows near the
kitchen walls. Concealed in a cluster of ale barrels that had been recently
offloaded from Manchester, he had been able to watch most of the action from
his make-shift cave. He had watched the soldiers and knights assemble,
departing at daybreak the morning before. He had heard some of the men speaking
of Dolforwyn Castle and he recalled everything he knew about the place in his
mind; the fortress had seen much action over the past fifty years between
Llewellyn the Last and the Marcher lordship of Montgomery. Garson Mortimer’s
grandsire had eventually commandeered it from the Welsh prince and it had been
a Wrexham holding ever since. Aye, he knew much about the outpost, considering
it had once been his job to know this, and more.

Lucius le Cor had returned home.

Kirk didn’t look any different
from the last time he had been within her walls. In fact, it appeared more
prosperous than he had remembered. It was a strangely satisfying sensation to
envision her great walls again, the massive keep, and faces of those he recognized
in the ward. Aye, it was satisfying. And it was also a prelude as to why he had
returned.

London had been unsatisfying. The
young king, it seemed, had no use for old soldiers who were beyond retirement
age. He had found himself at the bottom of the food chain, a once-important
knight who was now hardly more than an object of distain for those more popular
and powerful. He had spent months trying to work his way up the political
ladder of favor, but it had been to no avail. Young Edward was not interested
in him.

Worse yet, Kenneth St. Héver was
god-like according to the king so the sly rumors that Lucius attempted to start
about St. Héver were quickly quelled. Kenneth could do no wrong as far as
Edward was concerned. Lucius’ confidence had faltered, his spirits sank, and
his mind had wandered between sanity and the muddied waters of psychosis.