Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (22 page)

She knew where the vault was.

CHAPTER NINE

The soldiers weren’t sure what to
do at first. 

An aggressive woman identifying
herself as Lady Pembury was demanding to see one of the prisoners and, not
knowing the true identity of the woman with the slight Scottish burr, they
grabbed her and threw her in the nearest cell because she would not leave when
they told her to. But the cell they tossed her in to also fortuitously contained
Kynan Lott MacKenzie, who was beside himself with astonishment when his
well-dressed and lovely cousin was thrown unceremoniously into the cramped
vault with him and nine other men.  His mouth flew open at the site of little
Jo-Jo Seton.

Everyone in his cell was chained
to varying degrees so no one could make a swipe for her.  Her safety was not
truly in jeopardy.  Somewhat terrified but wildly happy she had ended up in
Kynan’s cell, Joselyn made her way over to her cousin against the far wall. 
She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“Ky,” she pulled back, looking
into his dirty and bruised face. “Are you well? Have they injured you?”

Kynan shook his head, his
still-astonished gaze moving over his cousin. “Jo-Jo,” he breathed. “’Are ye
well, lass?  What have they done tae ye?”

She shook her head as his rant
gained volume. “They have not done anything to me. I am uninjured,” she added
for effect, “for the moment.”

Kynan studied his beautiful young
cousin, a look of extreme sorrow on his face. “Oh, Jo-Jo,” he moaned softly.
“The big English knight told me he’d married ye. Is it true?”

Joselyn’s smile faded somewhat;
once Stephen noticed she was missing, she knew he would suspect where she had
gone. Time was therefore limited and she was determined to find out what she
could before Stephen found her and dragged her out by the feet.   She was
willing to risk his wrath in order to help him.  And she was willing to betray
her kin.

“’Tis true,” she crouched next to
Kynan, playing the part of the fearful Scot. She hoped the performance was good
enough. “King Edward forced me to marry him to form an alliance between the
English and the Scots.  They sent my father to the dungeons of Alnwick Castle.
You must help me, Ky. I must get away from here.”

Kynan rattled his chains. “I
canna help ye, lass. They have me caged like a beast.”

Joselyn grabbed his arms
desperately. “Then tell me where I can go, who will hide me. I must get away
from my husband where he cannot find me.”

Kynan looked as stricken as she
sounded. “Jo-Jo, would that I could help ye, lass. I canna do anything tae help
ye.”

Joselyn was becoming caught up in
her act; tears popped into her eyes. “They killed my mother,” she began to
weep. “They will kill me next. Please tell me where to go. I must flee!”

Kynan’s expression slackened.
“Julia,” he repeated, shocked. “The English bastards killed her?”

Joselyn nodded, her hand against
her mouth in a dramatic attempt to hold back the sobs. “Aye,” she whispered.
“Please help me, Ky.”

He stared at her, feeling
helpless and furious at the same time. “I dunna know what I can do,” he
muttered. “There was a battle last night. I dunna know where my men are now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunna know where they were holed
up. I canna send ye out into the world if I dunna know where they are, tae take
ye in tae a safe haven.”

“But I must escape to them.
Please help me, Ky. You must tell me where to go.”

Kynan was torn. His young cousin
was truly distraught and it never occurred to him not to believe her; he was
simply afraid that her husband, the big English hound, would track her and by
doing so, find his men.  She would lead him right to them.  But he could not
refuse to help his cousin, not when she had suffered from such a terrible life
now made worse by a forced marriage.  Aye, he knew about the life that Uncle
Alexander had put her through. It was a deep family shame. He found he was
desperate to aid her, to help her break free.

“Go south on the main road
towards the cemetery,” he hissed at her. “There’s a church; find the priest.
He’ll tell ye where tae hide.”

Joselyn squeezed his arms
gratefully. “Thank you,” she murmured with great relief. “To know that I can
escape to safety means the world to me.”

They could suddenly hear banging
and voices coming from the entry to the gatehouse. Men were calling to each other
and voices were being raised. Someone was calling someone else an idiot. The
man sounded angry. Eyes wide, Joselyn remained crouched next to Kynan, still
clutching the man’s arm.  It did not take long before Ian appeared at the cell
door.  His dark eyes fixed on her, at the far end of the cell.

“Lady Pembury,” he motioned
angrily to the jailer to open the door. “What are you doing in here? Your
husband is searching for you, my lady.”

“I was visiting my cousin,” she
told him.

Ian was beckoning at her. “This
is no place for you, my lady. Please come with me immediately.”

With a heavy sigh that sounded to
Kynan like a sob, Joselyn rose and went to the cell door that was now opening. 
Kynan watched her pass through it, into the possessive grip of the same English
knight who had beat him.

God help her
, he thought grimly.

***

Joselyn and Ian ran into Stephen
just as they were exiting the vault.  Stephen’s cornflower blue eyes fixed on
his wife with great relief and a shadow of irritation.  Ian had her by the arm,
leading her towards her husband.

“She was in the vault, my lord,”
Ian handed her over to her husband. “She said that she was visiting her
cousin.”

The relief in Stephen’s eyes
cooled as he gazed down at her. “I see,” he rumbled, focusing on his wife. “I
returned to our chamber to see if you had returned there.  I sent Ian to the
vault on the chance that you might have disobeyed me. I see that you have.”

Joselyn made the only tactical
move she could make, considering he was correct to be angry with her.  She
didn’t like the look in his eye. She threw her arms around his waist and buried
her face in his tunic.

“Forgive me,” she begged softly.
“I had to try. I felt strongly that I had to try. I cannot see you fight
another battle that might result in your death. Please do not be angry with
me.”

She was prattling and Stephen’s
annoyance faded. He was simply glad she was safe, whether or not she had
disobeyed him.  If he was honest with himself, he knew she had gone there all
along.  She had, if nothing else, great determination. With a sigh, he put his
big hand on her head, buried against his chest, and turned her for the keep.

“All right, sweetheart, all
right,” he shushed her gently. “I am not angry. But I am disappointed that you
would not respect my wishes.”

“I am sorry,” she repeated,
genuinely contrite. “But I was sure he would tell me things that he would not
tell you and if I can prevent another battle, Stephen, I feel very strongly
that I must do so.  Would you let me die if you could prevent such a thing?”

They were approaching the dark,
towering keep.  “I already do,” he said quietly as they entered the door.
“Everything I do, I do to keep you safe. Yet you seem intent on fighting me at
times.”

He helped her up the steep spiral
stairs.  “It is not my intention to fight you,” she said as they reached the
landing. “But if I can help you create peace for Berwick, why do you not let
me?”

They reached the chamber and
Stephen opened the door. “Must I go through this with you again?” he sighed.

Joselyn entered the room,
realizing that Mereld or Tilda must have come in because the fire was stoked
and there was food on the small table.   She went over and sat on the bed. She
suddenly didn’t feel like arguing with him any longer.

“Nay,” she said with defeat, averting
her eyes. “You do not.”

He watched her dark head, his
cornflower blue eyes glimmering at her. He removed his big leather gloves and
set them on the table.

“Shall we eat?” he asked.
“Someone has gone to the trouble to bring us food.”

She shook her head, still looking
away from him. “I am not hungry.”

He went over to the bed, took her
by the hand, and pulled her to stand. Leading her over to the little table, he
sat in the oak chair and pulled her onto his lap.  He began ripping the bread
apart, handing her the soft white middle.

“Was disobeying me worth the
effort?” Stephen asked softly as he shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.

Joselyn looked at him. “What do
you mean?”

“Did he tell you what you wanted
to know?”

She pondered his question with a
sinking heart; if she told him the truth, then Stephen would take a battalion
of men to the church that Kynan had described. All he would succeed in doing
would be scattering the rebels and possibly getting himself killed in the
process.  The thought sickened her.  It sickened her more that she was about to
lie to him, convinced she could do what he could not.  Kynan’s men would trust
her.  Perhaps she could convince them to surrender; it was a foolish thought
but the idea of Stephen lying dead with an arrow through his heart made her
think foolish, desperate thoughts.

“He told me that he was caged
like a beast,” she said, forcing the soft white bread to her mouth and chewing
slowly. “He wanted to know how I was.  You told him that we were married?”

Stephen moved for the hunk of
warmed-over mutton with just a hint of his wife’s marvelous sauce from the day
before. “I did,” he took a big bite. “I wanted him to know that I was now his
kin.”

“Why?”

He looked at her. “Because it
will give him pause, knowing he is related to me, before trying something
foolish against me.”

She lifted a dark eyebrow at him.
“Scots fight whomever they choose, whenever they choose.  It matters not if
they battle kin or strangers.”

His cornflower blue eyes
twinkled. “Perhaps,” he agreed, chewing the mutton. “But I wanted to give the
man something new to consider next time he orders his rebels to attack.”

Joselyn lifted her shoulders,
chewing her bread as if it was made of sawdust.  Stephen watched her as she
forced herself to eat, fighting off a grin.  They finished eating in silence;
Joselyn had, in fact, finished long before he had, unable to stomach more to
eat. Her thoughts were dark, lingering on what Kynan had told her, formulating
a plan that would save her husband. She could think of little else.

When Stephen finally finished
eating, it was well into evening but he was not tired, having slept all day. 
He had duties to return to but was reluctant to leave his wife; not simply
because of their conversation of the past several minutes but because, quite
simply, he did not want to be without her. In spite of what happened up on the
wall, he rather enjoyed having her with him.  But she could not go with him
where he needed to go and he stood up with his wife still on his lap, scooping her
up as he rose.  Without a word, he carried her over to their bed and set her
gently upon it.

“I must return to the walls for
now,” he told her. “I will return in a few hours.”

She stood up from the bed, her
eyes big as she gazed up at him. “Do you fear more trouble this night?”

He lifted his shoulders, moving
for the armor he had propped up against the wall earlier in the day.  He began
to methodically don it.

“Not in particular,” he replied,
watching her as she moved forward to help him with his leather buckles. “But we
must be vigilant.”

She focused on fastening his
greaves to his shins as he held the armor in place.  There was hesitance in her
voice as she spoke, as if she did not want to rehash everything they had so
recently discussed. He knew her fears on the subject well enough; it would do
no good to repeat them.  Moreover, she did not want to make him suspicious that
Kynan had told her more than she had let on.

“I would have you be careful,
then,” she said softly. “As I said, you are the Guardian Protector of Berwick.
It would be a great prize for a Scots to plant an arrow in your chest.”

 Stephen felt her mood, the
sorrow she was radiating, and he began to feel some remorse for having so
strongly resisted her attempts to help him. When he should have been glad that
she was not arguing with him about it, he began to feel some regret.  Truth be
told, he was deeply touched that she was so concerned for him. He’d never had
someone so deeply concerned for his welfare.

“Have no fear, wife,” he said
softly, watching the top of her dark head. “I have a reason to survive the
night.”

She looked up at him with her
pale blue eyes. “What is that?”

He smiled warmly, pulling her to
her feet and into his arms. “I have you,” he brushed his lips across her nose.
“You give me reason enough to live.”