Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (48 page)

“Roman,” he hissed. “What are you
doing in there?”

“We came to help Stephen,” he
cried. “He’s in trouble! You must help him!”

Roman was terrified; that much
was certain.  Right next to him, another head popped up and Kenneth recognized
Cade. Both boys were inside Berwick and in a great personal danger. Kenneth,
feeling more panic as well as a healthy dose of confusion, rattled the gate
furiously.

“Open the gate,” he tried not to
sound as if he was barking. “Throw the bolt and open it.”

Cade and Roman struggled with the
old iron bolt, edging it further and further out of its socket.  Kenneth’s
attention moved between the boys and Stephen, now greatly struggling as his
opponent hacked away at him.  It was clear he would not last much longer. 
Kenneth pressed the boys onward.

“You can do it,” he urged. “Just
work the bolt out.  Quickly, now. Work it quickly.”

Roman and Cade were doing their
best, grunting and groaning as they tried to throw the bolt. But they had
attracted unwanted attention with their efforts and a man suddenly rushed them,
sent to the ground as Kenneth put an arrow in his chest. 

Terrified and startled, the boys
resumed their attempts to throw the old bolt as Kenneth swiftly reloaded. He
placed the crossbow through the grate once more, praying that the boys would
release the bolt in time.  The end was approaching and soon, he would have no
choice; he would have to release the arrow whether or not he had an optimum
target. It was either that or watch Stephen die, and he simply was not prepared
to do that.

As he quietly urged the boys
onward, time for Stephen finally came to an end.  Kenneth watched with horror
as Stephen’s opponent managed to disarm him, getting close enough to the
injured man to get a foot in behind his knee and toss him to the ground. 
Kenneth could see the man preparing to deliver the death blow and he lifted his
crossbow, preparing to launch it. There was no more time to delay. But a split
second before he released the trigger, the old bolt suddenly slipped free and
Roman yanked open the gate.  Kenneth charged through, raised his crossbow at de
Velt’s back, and fired.

Dazed and injured on the ground,
Stephen was watching de Velt lift his sword in preparation for the death blow.
He was in so much pain that there was nothing he could possibly do to stop it.
He was unable to fight back; his strength was gone and his body was no longer
responding.  So he closed his eyes and thought of Joselyn as he waited for the
final blow, praying she would forgive him for surrendering.  He had tried; God
knows, he had tried to save himself. But his injuries had gotten the better of
him. Yet as he prayed, an odd thing occurred; he suddenly heard de Velt grunt.
Opening his eyes, he watched with shock as the man crashed to the ground.  

Startled, Stephen looked to see a
nasty arrow protruding out of de Velt’s back.  He was doubly startled when
Kenneth suddenly appeared at his side.

“Good God, man, you look
terrible,” Kenneth slung the crossbow onto one shoulder and reached down to
pick Stephen up. “You had better come with me if you ever want to see your wife
again.”

Stephen was dead weight and even
with Kenneth’s incredible strength, he needed help.  Cade and Roman suddenly
appeared, yanking on Stephen’s arm with all of their boyish strength but hardly
able to move him. Kenneth’s men had charged through the gate after him and were
now engaged by several Scots; Kenneth looked around in a panic, trying to find
someone who would help him, when Kynan sudden appeared on Stephen’s other
side.   He grabbed Stephen’s left arm and between him and Kenneth, they managed
to get Stephen to his feet.

“Dunna hang around here, knight,”
Kynan said to Kenneth. “This place is comin’ down around our ears.”

Kenneth didn’t know where Kynan
had come from and he frankly didn’t care. Between the two of them, they managed
to get Stephen out of the postern gate as an epic battle ensued in the bailey
behind them.

Now that de Velt was dead, there
was no longer a central commander and the Scot factions, realizing this, began
to rapidly deteriorate. Men began bolting out of the postern gate, fleeing the
castle, and those on the walls began shouting and rushing around.  As Kenneth
and Kynan cleared Berwick, everything fell to chaos.  Within seconds of de
Velt’s death and Stephen’s escape, the castle deteriorated into madness.

Joselyn saw them coming. She
bolted up from her seated position, crying out in horror and joy when she saw
her husband. But behind him, she saw Roman and Cade, running furiously, and her
elation turned to complete and utter bafflement.

“What in the…?” she cried as the
men drew close. She pointed at the boys. “Roman and Cade are here! What are
they doing here?”

Stephen, half-conscious, was so
glad to see his wife that he was close to tears.  All he wanted to do was fall
in to her arms and never let her go. But Kenneth and Kynan didn’t stop so the
couple could be happily reunited; they ran right past her.

“Jo-Jo, grab the boys!” Kenneth
called as they dashed by. “Do not let them out of your sight!”

Although Joselyn was supposed to
do the grabbing, Cade and Roman turned the tables and grabbed her instead. 
They yanked her along as they ran after Kenneth and Kynan.

“Run!” Roman hollered, pulling
her down the slope towards the river. “We have to get away!”

Joselyn raced between the boys
who had her by the wrists. She couldn’t figure out if she was really running
that fast or if they were just pulling her that fast. By the time they reached
the river bed, Kenneth was loading Stephen onto a horse. Then he grabbed
Joselyn and took her with him, practically tossing her up onto his charger and
leaping on behind her. Kynan grabbed the boys and managed to mount with them. 

As the rest of Kenneth’s men
mounted up, the entire party took off, racing up the embankment and away from
Berwick, heading for the safe haven of Tate de Lara’s escort nestled on the
other side of Whiteadder Bridge.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Norham Castle, Northumberland

The night was still, dark and
peaceful. The only sounds were those of night insects, alive in their nocturnal
world as they searched for a meal. Those peaceful and delicious sounds wafted
in to a dark chamber nestled deep in Norham’s massive keep, lit only by two fat
tapers and a glowing fire.  

Joselyn sat next to the bed,
mending her husband’s torn tunic because it was the only clothing he had at the
moment. Stephen was sleeping the sleep of the dead in a fat and comfortable
bed, snoring softly.  But he moved in his sleep, causing himself pain, and
awoke with a groan.  Joselyn’s mending fell into her lap as she focused on him.

“Stephen?” she asked softly,
touching his cheek.  “Are you all right, my angel?”

Stephen’s cornflower blue eyes
rolled open.  He grunted again, softly, as he oriented himself.  Then he looked
at his wife, her ethereal beauty as the firelight illuminated her features, and
smiled.

“I am fine so long as you are
with me,” he whispered. “But I feel as if I have been asleep for days. What
time is it?       

Joselyn set her mending on the
table. While she was there, she collected a cup and poured a measure of wine
into it. She took it back to her husband.

“It is very late,” she said,
helping him lift his head and putting the cup to his lips.  “And you have, in
fact, been asleep for days.  Off and on for three days. How do you feel?”

“As if I have been run over by an
ale wagon,” he grumbled, wiping an exhausted hand over his face.  He looked
around the room as much as his stiff neck would allow. “Where are we?”

Joselyn smiled faintly. “Do you
not remember?” 

Stephen shook his head. “I
remember fleeing Berwick but little after that. Why? Where are we?”

“Norham Castle,” she told him.
“Tate felt that you were too injured to ride straight to Forestburn, so he
stopped here and asked for assistance from the garrison commander who is loyal
to Edward. The castle physic splinted your right wrist, wrapped your ribs, and
we have been here ever since.  The commander said we could stay as long as
needed.”

Stephen was beginning to vaguely
recall their arrival. “Where are Kenneth and Tate?”

“Tate returned to Forestburn but
Kenneth has remained here,” she replied. “The man is as loyal as a dog. He
would not leave you no matter what.”

Stephen sighed faintly. “He
risked his life to rescue me from Berwick,” he suddenly lifted an eyebrow at
her. “Speaking of risk, where are Roman and Cade?”

Joselyn smiled faintly. “Where do
you think?” her eyes twinkled. “They are convinced that they single-handedly
rescued you from Berwick and would not leave either, not even when Tate
threatened them. So he left them here with Kenneth.  The only reason Tate went
home was to soothe Toby, who is undoubtedly furious and worried over Roman’s
disappearance. He said he had to go home and ease her mind so that Roman would
live to see another year.”

Stephen smiled faintly, reaching
out to take her hand. She clutched it tightly as they grinned at each other.

“Cade is quite a boy,” he said
softly. “I will be proud to call him my son.”

“He seems very fond of you as
well,” she murmured, kissing his good hand. “Oh, Stephen, it is so good to have
you back. Those weeks when we were separated were the worst of my life.”

“And of mine,” he gave a tug and
pulled her on to the bed with him, wrapping his big arms around her,
reacquainting himself with the feel of her. “I was truthfully not sure if I
would ever see you again.  God has been merciful.”

She lay down against him, careful
not to hurt his ribs. But the moment she did so, the tears came.  Stephen
wrapped her up tightly in his powerful embrace, relishing the feel of her
against him.  He kissed her dark head.

“Why the tears, sweetheart?” he
asked softly. “All is well now. I will heal and we will welcome our son come
the spring.  There is a good deal to be grateful over.”

She nodded, wiping at her nose.
“I know,” she murmured. “But I came so close to losing you. I do not ever want
to feel that fear again, Stephen. It will surely kill me.”

He
kissed her again. “Do not trouble yourself,” he said softly. “As you can see,
we have a myriad of friends and family that will always ride to my aid; Tate,
Ken, and those two foolish young lads who risked their necks to help me. And
let us not forget your cousin, either. He was the greatest God-send of all.”
      She smiled, wiping the tears from her temples. “Kynan cannot decide if he
is a traitor to the Scots now or simply loyal to his family,” she said. “He is,
in fact, discussing that very thing with my father down in the hall.”

Stephen’s smile faded. “Alexander
is here?”

Joselyn nodded, lifting her head
to look at him. “Tate sent for him. He had originally hoped that my father
might convince those at Berwick to release you, but Kenneth and Kynan took care
of your release before my father could arrive. So he is down in the hall with
Kenneth and Kynan. Tate told him to wait here until you decide what’s to be
done with him.”

Stephen stared at his wife; her
sweet, beautiful face, her luscious pale blue eyes. She was so exquisite that
he was sure he was gazing upon God’s most precious creation. But he was also well
aware that the very reason for the woman’s horrific past was seated in the hall
below him.  Tate had known, eventually, that Stephen would have to confront
Alexander for his sins. As Joselyn’s husband, it was his right. But gazing into
his wife’s anxious face, he was not sure any of that was necessary any longer.
He had Joselyn and the most wonderful life he could have ever imagined. He was
not sure that condemning a sick old man would make it any better. In fact, he
was sure it would not.

“What do you want me to do with
him?” he asked his wife. 

Joselyn appeared pensive; she
watched Stephen’s big fingers play with the ends of her dark hair, her mind
lost in thought. It was clear that she was both uncomfortable and surprised by
the question.

“He is my father, after all,” she
said softly.

“I realize that.”

“What he did… well, it was long
ago.  I have long since forgiven him.”

Stephen watched her face, the
emotions rippling across her brow.  “So I will repeat my question; what do you
want me to do with him?”

After a moment, she looked up at
him. “Send him home, Stephen. Send him back to Allanton and let that be the end
of it.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Aye,” she reached out, stroking
his scruffy cheek. “I have you and we have a wonderful life together.  I am so
blessed that I can hardly believe my fortune.  Let no man, not even my father,
cast a shadow upon that. Send him home with my forgiveness and with yours. Let
that be the end of it.”