Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (45 page)

Keir cut him off. “Go and help Michael dispatch that
fool,” he barked. “When you are finished, come and find me. We have business to
attend to.” He looked over at the rather shocked young man in the brown drape.
“You, priest! Come with me.”

Kurtis moved in Michael’s direction as the priest
leapt to do Keir’s bidding.  Between Keir and the three soldiers, they managed
to get Garran up the stairs and into the keep.   Keir was already bellowing for
the women to open the solar door as he entered the stone structure so by the
time they reached it, the panel was wide open. 

Inside the stuffy room, Cassandra and Coverdale were
clearing off Coverdale’s enormous oak desk while Anton, startled by the chaos,
was pressed back against the wall in stunned silence. He just stood there as
Keir and several soldiers lay Garran upon the big desk.  Summer rushed to her
father’s side.

Blood was already staining the desk beneath his big
body and dripping to the floor as Summer pulled away the tunic and cut through
the top of the hose.  She was surprisingly calm, having dried her tears to
focus on her task.  She wasn’t hysterical by nature, and that innate calm took
over her demeanor. She could see that her father was cleanly gored in a very
vital area and if she didn’t gain control of the bleeding quickly, all would be
lost.  She began rattling off orders.

“I need my medicament bag,” she said evenly,
although her voice was trembling. “I also need rags, or linens, anything to
stop this bleeding.  Please; I need it quickly.”

Coverdale fled.  They could hear him hissing at his
servants as men moved swiftly to do his bidding. As Summer and Cassandra
struggled to stop the life from draining out of Garran, Keir grasped Chloë by
the arm.

“Come with me,” he ordered softly. Chloë looked at
his face, seeing he was in command mode, but before she could open her mouth,
Keir motioned to the thin man in the dirty robes hovering near the door. “You,
Priest – you will marry us immediately.”

The young man with bad skin and a bald head came
away from the wall, rather confused and fearful. “A-as you say, my lord,” he
agreed. “But I do not have any of my….”

Keir cut him off. “Do it now. That is not a
request.”

The priest looked between Keir and Chloë with big,
startled eyes. “
Now
?”

“Now. This very second. Can I be any plainer about
it?”

The priest could see that that no one was in the
mood for questions or propriety.  In fact, he was a little disoriented at the
swift falling of events, having been summoned by a big knight yesterday only to
end up at Aysgarth where confusing things were taking place – sword battles in
the bailey and a big man laying upon the table in the solar, bleeding to
death.  Aye, odd forces were at work here. Perhaps it was best he do as he was
told and be done with it.

“Do we have the lady’s parents present?”

Both Chloë and Keir looked over to their left where
Anton was still pressed fearfully against the wall. Chloë pointed.

“That is my father,” she said.”

The priest waved Anton over. “You are required, my
lord.”

As Anton forced himself to move around the big desk,
he ended up slipping in the blood that was pooling at the base.  Recovering his
balance, he appeared at Chloë’s side with the wide-eyed look of a hunted deer.
Keir kept waiting for the man to recover his tongue and protest the wedding,
but so far, Anton hadn’t made a noise. He remained silent, which was well and
good. Keir couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t snap the man’s neck if he as
much as uttered a negative word. 

“Where is Mother?” Chloë asked.

Anton muttered unsteadily. “She went upstairs to
rest. Shall we send for her?”

“Nay,” Keir barked, his eyes on the priest. “There
is no time.”

Spurred onward by the demanding groom, the priest made
the sign of the cross over Keir and Chloë. “On your knees,” he told them.

Keir helped Chloë kneel before he sank to his knees
beside her.  As the door flew open behind them and several servants race in
with the items Summer had requested, the priest looked to Chloë.

“Your name, lady?”

“Chloë-Louise Isabella.”

The priest then turned to Keir, his silent question
obvious.  Keir responded in a strong voice. “Keir Kenneth Antony.”

The priest nodded swiftly, licked his nervous lips,
and launched in to the wedding mass, speaking very quickly.

“Keir Kenneth Antony, wilt though have this woman to
thy wedded wife, wilt the love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in
health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on
account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Keir looked at Chloë, the impact of the moment not
lost on him. With all of the terror and chaos that had gone on over the past
few minutes, he was starting to realize this was the moment he had been waiting
for. Chloë was finally to be his. His ice blue eyes regained some of their
warmth as his expression softened.

“With all my heart, I shall,” he murmured.

As Chloë smiled sweetly, the priest turned to her. “Chloë-Louise
Isabella, wilt though have this man to thy wedded husband, wilt the love him,
and honor him, keep him and guard him, in health and in sickness, as a wife
should a husband, and forsaking all others on account of him, keep thee only
unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Chloë’s eyes were swimming with tears by this time. “I
will,” she murmured. “Of course I will.”

The priest nodded before looking to Anton.  The man
was standing stiffly next to Chloë, looking somewhat pale.

“Do you give this woman in marriage, my lord?” the
priest asked.

Anton didn’t even look at Chloë or Keir. He simply
nodded, once, and the priest continued. “At this time the woman is given by her
father,” he said, looking to Keir. “You will repeat after me:  I,  Keir Kenneth
Antony,  take thee Chloë-Louise Isabella to my wedded wife, to have and to hold
from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in
sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain
it, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Keir had a smile on his lips as he looked at Chloë
and repeated the words. “I,  Keir,  take thee Chloë to my wedded wife, to have
and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for
poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church
will ordain it, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

He sounded so soft and sweet as he said it and Chloë
smiled, tears running down her face.  She couldn’t take her eyes off him as she
repeated her own vows, her voice tight with emotion, watching him kiss her hand
as she finished.  Finally, the priest raised his hand over their heads and made
the sign of the cross once again in blessing.

“Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind,
Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing
upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name;
that as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may
surely perform and keep the vows and covenants betwixt them made, whereof this
Ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever hereafter remain in
perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through our
Lord.”

“Amen,” Keir whispered.

His eyes closed briefly before turning to his new
wife and kissing her sweetly on the lips.  There was a great deal of emotion
between then two of them, deeper and richer now with the reality that they were
truly husband and wife. So much had happened for them to reach this point, and
now, it was finally finished. Chloë giggled through her tears as he kissed her
again and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly and trying not to
move her around too much, knowing her sore back had surely been aggravated by
Alphonse’s abduction attempt. But he had her in his arms and, God willing, they
would never be a part again.

Chloë had her arms wrapped around Keir’s neck, holding
him, as she heard sniffles behind her.  She turned in his arms to see Cassandra
standing next to Anton, wiping at her eyes.  The woman had paused in assisting
Summer to listen to the last few strains of her sister’s wedding ceremony and
when she saw that both Chloë and Keir were looking at her, she tried to laugh
off her weeping demeanor.

“I am so happy for you both,” she said, though she
was mostly looking at Chloë. “I suppose it is not exactly the wedding ceremony
you had in mind, but it is good enough.”

Chloë grinned as Keir helped her to her feet, and
she embraced her sister warmly. “I could have been married in a stable as long
as it was to Keir,” she said. “We are man and wife and I care not where it has
happened, only that it has. I have never been happier in my life.”

As they hugged again, they eventually turned to
Anton, who was still standing next to Cassandra. He still appeared pale and
drawn, but the startled look had faded from his expression.  In fact, he looked
rather serious as he gazed at Chloë.

“You are a married woman now, Chloë,” he said. “I… I
hope you understand that I have always done what I thought was best for you and
your sister. If that was not a popular choice, then I would at least hope…
well, I suppose it does not matter now. I told you that you could marry Keir if
he returned from Wales, and I stayed true to my word.”

Chloë’s smile faded as she gazed at her father.
Something had changed between them over the past few weeks, perhaps a trust
that would never be regained. All she knew was that she felt differently about
him now.  She wondered if it was something that time would heal.

“Perhaps you should find Mother and tell her what
has happened,” she suggested quietly.

Anton merely turned for the door, heading out into
the corridor beyond.  He was behaving strangely, perhaps resigned to his
daughters’ futures, oddly removed from everything. But Chloë didn’t particularly
care and neither did Cassandra; they hugged again until there was a commotion
over on the desk where Summer was trying to save her father’s life, and
Cassandra rushed to help. 

Chloë remained with Keir, watching the activity. Now
that the shock of their swift marriage was settling, she began to think of what
the future would bring for them all.  She turned to Keir.

“What now?” she asked softly.

Keir’s jaw ticked faintly, indicative of his emotion
as he watched Garran fight for his life. “I will go and tell Ingilby that you
and I are married,” he said. “I want you to retreat up to your chamber and
remain there until I come for you.”

Chloë looked at him seriously. “Why is he here,
Keir?” she wanted to know. “What was happening down in the bailey? Who was that
man who grabbed me?”

Keir looked at her, remembering that her memory was
still spotty to recent events and that she didn’t recall the missive from Ingilby
regarding Merritt and her subsequent response. Blanche had refrained from
telling Chloë anything for fear of upsetting her and Keir, too, was unsure how
much to tell her. They had hoped they wouldn’t have to, hoping her memory would
make a full return. She had been through a lot over the past few weeks, today
included. Still, it wasn’t fair to her to not know everything since so much of
it centered around her. Better to be prepared.

“Come with me,” he said softly.

Keir took Chloë’s hand and led her out of the solar
just as Michael and Kurtis entered from the bailey. Chloë’s eyes widened at the
sight of Michael; he was dirty, exhausted, and had a big cut above his left
eye.  Kurtis spoke first.

“We... well, well may have a problem,” he looked at
his brother. “Michael... he took his opponent and....”

“Is Garran dead?” Michael demanded, cutting Kurtis
off.

Keir eyed the big knight. “I do not know,” he said
honestly. “Summer is with him inside the....”

Michael blew past him, heading in to the solar where
there was much activity around Garran spread out over the big oak table. The
priest who had so recently married Keir and Chloë was standing at the head of
the table, giving Garran last rites. Keir, Chloë and Kurtis watched Michael go
with some concern before Keir returned his attention to his brother.

“What happened out there?” he asked. “Where is the prisoner?”

Kurtis sighed heavily. “Michael gored him,” he said.
“Then he carried the wounded man up to the wall walk and threw him over the
side, directly down onto Ingilby’s party.  They are screaming for blood, Keir.
They are furious.”

Keir’s brow furrowed. “He
threw
the man from
the parapet?”

Kurtis nodded, his gaze finding the open solar door
and seeing all of the activity inside as they tried to save Garran’s life.

“Vengeance for Summer,” Kurtis muttered. “I have
never seen Michael so enraged. What he did, he did for her and for no other
reason than that. Remind me never to get the man angry again.”

Keir grunted, wiping wearily at his eyes as he
thought on his next course of action. The situation was going from bad to
worse.