Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (54 page)

Keir wiped at his nose. “My nephew Kenneth is big,
blond and healthy. He looks just like my brother.”

Michael squeezed Keir’s shoulder and dropped his
hand. “Thank God for small mercies,” he whispered. “And Kurtis? How does he
fare?”

That brought more tears.  They dripped off of Keir’s
chin as Keir struggled to keep his composure.

“Not well at all,” he muttered. “He would not allow
us to bury her for almost a week. He just sat with her body, holding her,
praying and crying over her.  We finally had to forcibly separate them so we
could prepare Cassandra for burial.  Kurtis drank himself into a stupor the day
we put Cassandra into the earth and he has not been sober since. He has not
even seen the baby; he cannot stomach to look at him.”

“Dear God,” Michael breathed, closing his eyes
against the horrors of the mental images. “Why did you leave? You should have
stayed to comfort him.”

Keir pushed himself up off the horse, wiping at his
eyes and face. “Because Chloë is due to deliver our child very soon and I did
not want to miss it,” he looked at Michael. “After what I just witnessed, I am
never leaving her again. I am going to stay right by her side and enjoy every
moment we have together. I lost one wife, Michael. You do not understand what
it would do to me to lose Chloë.”

Michael nodded in rememberance of Madeleine St.
Hèver.  Over the past two years, Keir had become so deeply attached to Chloë
that it was as if they were literally of one mind, one soul.  He doted on her
and their young son, a more thoughtful and caring man having never existed. 
Therefore, he clearly understood what Keir was saying.  Keir treated each day
as if it was the most precious because he had learned not to take things for
granted.

“Chloë will be fine,” he assured him softly. “She is
strong and healthy.”

Keir nodded, wiping his eyes again and looking up
towards the keep of Pendragon, envisioning his sleeping wife within the walls. 
The pangs of grief tore at him.

“I am so afraid to tell her,” he murmured. “I fear
the strain of the news will bring about the early birth of our child.”

“You cannot keep it from her. She will want to
know.”

Keir nodded weakly, with resignation. “She is going
to want to go to Alnwick,” he said. “I am going to have a difficult time
restraining her from traveling. She will want to visit her sister’s grave and
she will want to see the baby.”

He began to walk towards the keep and Michael
followed. “What of Anton and Blanche?” Michael asked. “Do they know about
Cassandra?”

Keir nodded. “I sent them word. They should know by
now.”

Michael wasn’t sure what more he could say. He
rested a hand on Keir’s shoulder again in mute support, trying to think of
something comforting or positive to say when a glimpse of a figure at the keep
entrance caught his attention. He looked up, over Keir’s head, and saw Chloë, a
vision in flowing blue, standing in the doorway.

“Keir,” he hissed quietly. “Chloë is coming. Pull
yourself together, man.”

Keir swiftly wiped at his face to make sure there
were no more tears, turning to see his very pregnant wife make her way down the
steps from the keep to the bailey.  She had a toddler by the hand, a blond
haired baby who squealed with delight when he saw his father.  Keir swiftly wiped
his face one last time, turning to his wife and son with a big smile on his
face.

Chloë let go of Kase’s little hand and the little
boy toddled across the dirty bailey, heading for his father.  Keir crouched
down and opened his arms up for the boy, but the child diverted at the last
minute and, giggling, ran off in another direction. Keir went after the child,
scooping him up into his big arms and kissing his little cheeks loudly. Kase
screamed with both delight and frustration at having been caught by his father.

Chloë made her way over to her husband and son,
rubbing at her belly.  She smiled broadly at the pair.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” she leaned in to Keir
for a sweet kiss. “We have missed you. Did you have a good trip?”

Keir had his arms full of squirming baby and
eventually set the boy to his feet.  As Kase toddled off, Keir wrapped his arms
around Chloë and hugged her tightly.

“I have missed you terribly,” he murmured as he
kissed her.  His eyes devoured her, drinking in her beauty and so incredibly
relieved to see that she was well. “How have you been feeling?”

Chloë rubbed her belly. “Fine,” she told him. “But I
will admit that I am ready for this child to be born.”

Keir’s smile faded. “He will be here soon,” he said,
pushing aside horrible thoughts of Cassandra and childbirth, turning his
attention to Kase as the baby wandered in the dirt. “How is Kase faring?
Michael says he has been cutting teeth.”

Chloë watched the tow-headed toddler bend down to
pick up a little stick. “He has been keeping me up every night for a week with
his misery,” she sighed. “Summer rubs wine on his gums and it helps the pain. 
Othewise, he has been very happy.  Speaking of happy - how is my sister? Has
the baby arrived yet?”

Keir felt as if he’d been hit in the gut. God help
him, he didn’t want to tell her.  His grip on Chloë tightened and he began to
walk towards the keep, wearily, herding Kase in that direction as they went.

“You have a beautiful new nephew named Kenneth,” he
told her steadily. “He is a very big boy, very healthy, and screams like I have
never heard screaming in my life.  All he wants to do is eat.”

Chloë giggled as they mounted the stairs for the
keep, reaching out to grab Kase as the boy tried to escape them.  Keir bent
down and picked the baby up.

“Kenneth,” she repeated. “That is your middle name.
I like it very much. Who does he look like?”

“My brother, of course. He is the exact image of
him.”

“And he is healthy?”

“Verily.”

Chloë grinned. “Thank God,” she sighed as they
reached the door leading in to the keep. “And my sister? How is she feeling? It
took her so long to conceive a child and she wrote me that the pregnancy was
very taxing on her.  Is she recovering well?”

Keir couldn’t even look at her. He could feel the
tears coming again as he gently pulled her into the dark, cool innards of
Pendragon’s keep.

“Let us retreat inside and I will tell you
everything,” he murmured.

Michael was still standing with the chargers when Chloë,
Keir and the baby went into the keep.  Not a minute passed before he heard
hysterical weeping and he sighed heavily, making his way towards the keep to
see if he could be of some assistance. Perhaps his wife had something that
could aid Chloë in her sorrow. Perhaps not. 

By the time he entered the keep, Keir had Chloë up
in his arms as Summer softly instructed him to take her up the stairs.  She was
holding little Kase in one hand and her black haired, blue eyed daughter
Catherine with the other, minding the children as Keir dealt with his
hysterical wife. When she caught a glimpse of Michael entering the keep, she
immediately thrust the children upon him.

“Take the babies,” she instructed softly, swiftly.
“I must tend Chloë.”

Michael collected both toddlers into his arms, made
difficult by the fact that Kase did not want to be picked up. He wanted to run
away. 

“Cassandra is dead,” he whispered to his wife.

Summer nodded stoically. “I know,” she said evenly.
“I must take care of Chloë now.”

It was a much harder task than she anticipated.
Distraught to the point of passing out several times, Keir’s worst fears were
realized when Chloë when into labor later that night and delivered a healthy
son before the sun rose. Kristopher St. Hèver was big and blond, like his
brother and cousin, a sweet and quiet little boy who barely cried at all. Chloë
and Keir forgot their grief for a short while, indulging in the joy of a
healthy baby born to them.  Little Kristopher was a light in an otherwise very
dark day for them both.

Eventually, Chloë, Keir, Michael and Summer traveled
to Alnwick to pay their respects to Cassandra and to see to Kurtis and baby
Kenneth’s welfare. Kurtis, embittered and drunk since the death of his wife,
had no hand in rearing his son, who was brought up by servants, much to Chloë’s
distress.  She was eventually able to convince Kurtis to allow her to take the
baby home with her. 

Kenneth lived the next few years with his cousins
until Kurtis decided he wanted his son back.  It broke Chloë’s heart to return
the five year old to his drunk and sullen father, whereupon Kurtis promptly
sent Kenneth to Kenilworth to foster.

The years passed and more children were born to Chloë
and Keir. Another son, Kort, followed closely by daughter Alix completed their
family. Kurtis never remarried, eventually drinking himself to death when his
only son was ten years of age.  Keir suffered through the death of his only
brother with anguish, made worse when Chloë fell ill with a lung infection the
winter following Kurtis’ death. No matter what Summer of Pembury did for her, Chloë
could not seem to shake the infection and on a snowy winter’s eve on the last
day of the year 1306, Chloë St. Hèver passed away in her husband’s arms and
surrounded by her children.  Her last words to Keir were those of love and
promise, and his last words to her were those of utter adoration.

He would see her very soon, he swore, and when his
time came twenty-three years later, he did. Chloë was waiting for him in a land
much like the rolling green fields of Cumbria, wearing a flowing white garment
with her magnificent red hair blowing in the soft breeze that caressed the
land.

One moment, Keir was lying in his bed, watching his
children weep, and in the next, he was strong, proud and powerful once again,
strolling in the grass as he approached his smiling wife.  She put her arms
around him, as he put his around her, and it was as if they had never left one
another. They were finally together again.

Cassandra and Kurtis were there, young and beautiful
and happy once more, as the four of them wandered the green fields of Paradise,
immortal and beloved. The fragments of grace that they had become in life were
reuinited, now whole and complete for eternity.