Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (10 page)

Chloë could feel his sadness even
though he was trying hard to fight it. She felt so sad for the man but she
struggled against her emotions, wanting his recollection of his family to be a
joyful one and not those wrought with pain. She wondered if he could remember
them any other way.

“When I was seven years old, all
I wanted was a pony for my birthday,” she said with a bit of mischief in her
eye. “My father would not get me one because he was afraid I would fall off and
injure myself. I would suspect that if Frances wanted a pony, you might give
her one. You do not seem to be the type that would deny your child her fondest
wish.”

He looked at her, seeing the
twinkle in her eye, and it eased the grief that was seeping into his veins as
he thought of his daughter and her impending birthday.  Smiling weakly, he
shook his head.

“Nay,” he muttered.  “She had
everything her little heart desired. She was spoiled and sweet.”

Chloë laughed softly. “I am sure
she was,” she said. “And she was very fortunate to have a little brother to
keep her company.  She must have loved him a great deal.”

Keir’s grin broadened when he
thought of Frances and how Merritt used to follow her around, bringing screams
of ire from his sister.

“Merritt would follow her
everywhere, never giving her a moment’s peace,” he admitted. “Frances would try
to hide from him but he always found her.  Then she would cry because he would
not leave her alone.  Sometimes he would throw rocks at her to get her attention
or pull her hair.  It was affectionately done but Frances wanted no part of
it.  Many times I would have to take Merritt with me on my duties so he would
leave his sister alone.”

Chloë giggled. “Still, I am
positive she could not live without him.”

“She could not,” he nodded in
agreement. “In spite of screaming every time he would come around her, she
loved her brother and would call him Me-Me because she could not pronounce
Merritt when she was very young.  We started calling him that also.”

The smile vanished from Chloë’s
face.
Me-Me
. That was what the little girl had said to her, the pale
girl with the long hair that Keir had insisted she dreamt. She suddenly felt
very shaken, startled, unsure how to react. Keir was still sitting there
looking at the soap and she removed her feet from the warm water and began
drying them off with her cloak, trying to mask her shock.  Keir saw what she
was doing and he quickly stood up, moving for the wardrobe.

“Here,” he pulled two garments
off of the wardrobe door and extended them to her. “You will wear these.  They
are clean and very fine. I paid a good deal of money for them and I am sure
Madeleine would not mind if you wore them.”

Chloë looked up at him with
refusal on her lips but when she saw the soft, clean and fine garments, she
couldn’t bring herself to refuse.   With shaking hands, she reached up to take
them.

“My thanks,” she murmured.

Her quaking hands had not escaped
his notice. His ice blue eyes lingered on her. “What is the matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your hands are shaking. Why?”

She couldn’t tell him.  She was
afraid to, afraid he might think she was mad.  She made up an excuse, the first
thing that came to mind.

“I am… cold,” she said, rising on
wet feet. “I will retire to my chamber now. Thank you again for your kindness
and hospitality. My thanks to Madeleine, too.”

He smiled faintly. “Are you sure
you are well enough to sleep in that room?”

She nodded, not wanting to delve
back into the alternative. As attractive as she found the man, she would not
compromise herself in such a fashion, especially with Cassandra around.  Her
sister would murder her.

“I am,” she replied, moving to
the door with the precious garments in her hands. “I will take very good care
of these.”

“I know you will.”

He followed her to the door
across the hall, making sure she was properly settled.  It was the polite thing
to do but the glimmer in the ice blue eyes was warmer than it had ever been. 
When she laid the garments on the small, dusty bed, Keir stood by the door and
watched her.

“I will have this room scoured
clean tomorrow,” he told her. “Perhaps we can find a few female servants in
town to come here and work for you and your sister.”

She eyed him. “Old, ugly women,”
she lifted an eyebrow. “I will not be responsible for housing a brothel for
lonely soldiers.”

He laughed softly. “You sound
like… well, it does not matter. Old and ugly they will be.”

She wouldn’t let him get away so
fast. “Who do I sound like?”

He was still grinning as he
looked at her. “I was going to say my wife.”

“She was right.”

With a lingering grin and a
lingering glance suggesting he was coming to warm to her just the slightest,
Keir bid her a good eve and shut the door.  Chloë stood there a moment,
listening to his footfalls fade back into the master chamber and the door shut
softly. 

Now that she was alone in the
quiet and haunted room, she began to feel somewhat lonely for him.  It was an
odd sensation, knowing she must properly separate herself from him, but on the
other hand, she did so enjoy his company.  There was something warm, humorous
and powerful about the man, qualities she found wildly attractive.  Moving to
the chamber door, she laid her ear against it, listening for any sound of him.

She had no idea that, in his
chamber, Keir was doing the same thing. Ear against the door, he was listening
for any sound from the intriguing, spectacularly beautiful woman.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ingilby could see Exelby Castle
from the rise, a grassy hill covered with oak trees that provided shadowed
cover to himself and his soldiers.  He was riding with a party of twenty of his
men from Ripley Castle and their purpose had been to ride to Exelby to see to
its status.  Ingilby’s scouts were constantly monitoring the castle and its
repairs but the baron wanted to see for himself.  He had heard that repairs
were well under way.

He could see the activity from
his vantage point.  Exelby Castle wasn’t particularly large but it was tall and
heavily fortified.  Ingilby could see swarms of men on make-shift scaffolding,
repairing walls and digging out the moat that was cluttered with debris from
the battle.  It looked like an army of ants from where he stood, all madly
working to repair their shattered home.

Ingilby turned to the man
directly to his left, a man who was his closest advisor and battle commander.
His name was Alphonse d’Oro and he was from a particularly violent region of
España,
a man with great vision and warring tactics.  Exelby had been his battle and
although he had failed to reach his objective, he had certain done worthy
damage.

“It appears as if they are making
progress with the repairs,” Ingilby said to him.  “Am I to understand that the
family is not in residence at this time?”

Alphonse shook his head; he was a
dark man with swarthy skin and black eyes, breeding the look of contempt about
him.

“Nay, my lord,” his accent was
very heavy. “As far as we know, they left with Coverdale. They must be at his
seat of Aysgarth Castle.”

Ingilby digested that
information.  “Aysgarth is a big castle with a big army,” he muttered. “I will
not attempt to penetrate it.  Rest assured, de Geld will return to Exelby and
there will be another day and time for me to gain his daughter.  I will not fail
a second time.”

It was an order to Alphonse, who
took it in the spirit for which it was intended. “Indeed, my lord,” he
replied.  “We will not be caught off guard by another army arriving to support
de Geld. We will be prepared.”

Ingilby cast him a long glance.
“You should have already been prepared,” he said, but Alphonse did not respond.
Ingilby’s gaze lingered on him before turning back to the castle and
continuing. “And Coverdale’s knight? What have we found out about the man?”

Alphonse was eager to be off the
subject of the failed siege and on to better news. “We sent four men to Exelby
posing as masons looking for work,” he told him. “That is how we found out that
the de Geld family has gone with Coverdale to Aysgarth while their castle is
being repaired. We were also able to find out about this Keir St. Hèver. 
Apparently, he is a man with a great reputation.  He used to serve the king.”

“I already know that,” Ingilby
snapped impatiently. “What more do we know?”

Alphonse’s dark eyes moved to the
castle in the distance. “We know that the man is a garrison commander for
Pendragon Castle,” he told him. “It is common knowledge. He is highly
respected. Also, the man lost his family three years ago when Pendragon was
compromised during a siege. His wife and daughter were killed but his young son
was taken a prize.”

Ingilby looked interested. “Is
this so?” he asked. “Who is Coverdale’s enemy that he would lay siege to
Pendragon?”

“Hellbeck Castle,” Alphonse
informed him. “Lord Stain.”

“Stain?” Ingilby said with some
distain. “I know of him. I have heard he eats raw peacock for supper and bathes
in the blood of his enemies. Is it this madman who has St. Hèver’s son?”

Alphonse nodded. “It is
speculated,” he replied. “St. Hèver spent a year trying to locate his son but
has yet to find him. According to the men at Exelby, the man has not given up
hope. He continues to search for him.”

And it is this man who threatens
me
, Ingilby
thought to himself.
A man who has suffered tragedy is weakened whether or
not he realizes it.
  Although Ingilby had never met Keir St. Hèver, the
threat alone regarding Chloë de Geld was an introduction.  Now they were
adversaries who had never even met.  It was a matter of pride now and Ingilby
was on Keir’s scent.

“Send to Lord Stain and tell him
I will make a handsome offer for the son of St. Hèver if he still has
possession of him,” he told Alphonse. Then he laughed. “It would do well for me
to hold the boy because the next time we lay siege to Exelby, we can hold off
Coverdale’s assistance simply by letting them know that I hold St. Hèver’s long
lost son.  Do you think St. Hèver would do anything stupid if he knows I hold
the boy? Of course not. He, and Coverdale, will mark time while I demolish
Exelby and take the Goddess for my own. Perhaps I will not even marry the
woman; perhaps I shall simply make her my whore as an example to all who defy
my wishes.”

He was chuckling lewdly, as did
Alphonse.  It was always wise to concur with Ingilby in any arena.

“A brilliant plan, my lord,”
Alphonse agreed.

“See to it personally, Alphonse.
Know that I will not tolerate failure.”

Alphonse already knew that.  He
did not plan to fail a second time.

***

The berg of Kirby Stephen was
more cosmopolitan than Keir had let on. About two hours north of Pendragon, it
had a concentrated town center with merchants and vendors lined up in a tight
circle around the village square.   The day was bright and windy, and when the
party from Pendragon arrived with three fully armored knights, two small women
and forty men at arms, the people from town turned out to inspect the important
visitors.  The square was soon a very crowded place.

Dressed in the same clothing they
had been wearing for four days, Chloë and Cassandra were ready to procure their
‘necessities’. Cassandra was the first one off her palfrey, taking a moment to
scope out the circle of stalls before charging into the first shop.  Carrying
the coinage their father had given them, Chloë followed.

Keir gave orders to his men to
spread out around the square and watch the road leading in and out of the
town.  Lucan stayed in the center of the square, monitoring the activity of the
area, as Keir and Michael followed the ladies.  They stood outside of the door
of the merchant stall, listening to Cassandra ask the merchant who the finest
seamstress in town was.  The man recommended his wife and the negotiations
began in earnest.

Keir stood in the doorway,
watching Cassandra barter with the merchant as Chloë moved among the piles of
fabrics, pulling out luscious dark blues, yellows and greens.  She was very
calculated and methodical in her fabric hunt and a little boy, the son of the
merchant, followed her around and took the fabric that they pulled from the
shelves. 

Keir found himself watching Chloë
like a hawk, her graceful movements and the serious expression on her beautiful
face.  She had a job to do and she was completing it concisely.  He had to
admire the sisters for their tactics because before the merchant realized it,
he was barely making a profit on the material and had committed his wife to
sewing six surcoats by the end of the day.  

The man eventually hailed his
wife, perhaps in a panic, and the woman appeared with a very old woman in tow,
who immediately began measuring Cassandra and Chloë with her gnarled hands. 
Chloë explained what they wanted, the older women listened carefully, and with
that, the commitment had been made.  Paying the man half of what they had
promised him with the agreement that they would pay the remainder when they
returned for the dresses, the ladies quit the shop and moved on to their next
target.