If My Heart Could See You (28 page)

Thirty-Eight

To say Dristan was annoyed would have been an understatement. He raked a hand through his already mussed hair in irritation and adjusted his tabard that seemed to be choking the very breath from him. Whilst he appreciated the offer King Henry had given him for additional aid, he was puzzled on how he was to make haste and still remain undercover with well over one hundred men creating the rising dust. Fifty he could have concealed easier but the amount had tripled. He had left behind a good majority of men at court, who were still waiting for horses to be readied. Those men had now joined his army when they answered the call to rise to arms. All in Christendom must see there was a legion on the move towards Berwyck. They would be hard to miss.

Dristan turned as four riders came abreast of him. Nathaniel, Rolf, and Fletcher stilled their horses even though ’twas clear they, too, wished to quicken their pace. Ian sat, unmoving in his saddle, a grim expression on his face. Dristan had not thought Ian would accompany him straight back to Berwyck, but Amiria’s former captain made it clear nothing would stop him from reaching the family’s side. It seemed the two of them had only one thing on their mind and ’twas to ensure the safety of those they had left behind.

“We must ride ahead,” Dristan insisted. “I will take no more than a score of men. Fletcher, you stay here in my stead, and half past the hour get this army moving again towards Berwyck.”

“As you will, my lord,” Fletcher drawled, “although I am not sure I can get them moving any better than you have done with any sense of remaining unseen for miles around. With this many men, ’tis a most improbable task.”

“Do what you can,” he said sternly. “I cannot waste any more time.”

Ian moved his horse closer. “I come with you.”

Dristan raised a brow at Ian’s assumption that he would travel with him. “You could be of more use here with Fletcher.”

“Aye, I suppose I could,” he snorted decisively, “yet I know something that can be most useful. If I were to guess, Amiria did not as yet have time to tell you of Berwyck’s secret.”

“What secret?” Dristan roared.

Ian began somewhat sheepishly to tell Dristan of the tunnel that led down to the strand. His reaction was instantaneous and understandable. “You willna find it without me, my lord.”

“I swear, when I get a hold of my wife, I shall throttle that woman within an inch of her life,” he snarled. “It explains much on how she left the castle on the two occasions that I am aware of.”

Dristan began muttering about all the ways he would make his lady’s life miserable when he returned to Berwyck, ’til Nathaniel and Rolf began to laugh at his expense. He glared them into silence. A sound of thunder reached their ears. Then a speck of dust on the horizon caught Nathaniel’s eye and he peered into the distance. As the riders came closer, they recognized their comrade in arms.

“Ho, Geoffrey!”  Nathaniel called to his friend, wondering what caused him to be so far from the castle.

Strain showed on Geoffrey’s face as he grimaced in pain and rubbed his leg when they came abreast of the group. Kenna came along side of him and he held out his hand to her. She took it and he placed a kiss upon its gloved back.

Dristan watched the pair with a bit of amusement afore his thoughts returned to the obvious fact they were far from home.

“Your news must be grim for you to travel this far from Berwyck,” Dristan voiced coolly. “Let me guess . . . Sir Hugh is up to some mischief.”

Geoffrey and Kenna looked astonished he had guessed so correctly. “How did you know?” Geoffrey wheezed.

“It seems my vassal has sent word to the king on matters that would be questionable if I was not in such good graces with His Majesty,” Dristan chided.

Kenna looked about her at the mass of men who accompanied the group. “’Tis apparent you are still in good stead with him,” she guessed.

“’Tis even more so,” Ian proclaimed. “He has just been knighted an Earl.”

“All the more reason you must hasten your journey to reclaim Berwyck,” Geoffrey replied quickly. “Hugh will be laying siege to the castle. I have seen his army moving in its direction as we rode out.”

Dristan’s gaze went to Kenna ’til she nodded in answer. “’Tis true my Lord Dristan but there is more you should know.”

“He knows the castle secret,” Dristan guessed. “But who would betray us so?”

“Search your heart and you will find the answer, my liege,” she replied with a hushed tone.

It did not take Dristan long in his pondering. “Sabina! That wench is more trouble than she is worth!” he rasped.

“I have seen much as we rode, my lord,” Kenna said. “Trust me when I tell you, Lady Sabina has paid a price for her treachery. One that no woman should endure.”

“What of Amiria and her guardsmen?” Dristan and Ian exclaimed in unison. They shook their heads at one another and waited for Kenna to continue.

Closing her eyes, ’twas clear another vision overtook her. Dristan continued to watch his healer from his saddle, although he did not wait long for her to once more come back to them. The look of sorrow was one he was not prepared for.

“Taken
. . . it appears. Thrown into the pit and dungeon, my liege,” she whispered. “The garrison continues to fight on in your name.”

“We must go, and now,” Dristan bellowed.

“My lord I−” Geoffrey began. His words halted from his lips as he slid from his mount.

“Geoffrey!” Kenna cried out the same instant Nathaniel leapt from his horse to catch his friend as he fell. Blood once more began pouring from his wound.

“Take care of him, Dristan ordered. “Ian, you come with me.”

Their stallions reared in their eagerness to run as both men turned their steeds. Dristan called out to several of King Henry’s knights, who were only too eager to join him as he rode off to claim what was rightfully his. ’Twould not go well for Hugh when he got him within the reach of his sword. Dristan pressed onward, knowing within his heart Amiria would not fare well in Hugh’s clutches.

It had seemingly been days since Patrick had bolted the door of the garderobe. He had become immune to the putrid stench rising up to meet his nose, or so he thought, muffling a cough. Cut off from his sisters and any form of security, he was about at his wits end to this hiding business. He was, after all, a page to one of the most notorious knights in all of England. Surely a page such as he should not be hiding away, doing nothing.

He glanced through a crack in the frame of his confinement, but only saw the flickering flames of the nearby torch lighting the passageway. ’Twas time to take a chance for surely something must have befallen Amiria, since she had not come for him by now.

He quietly unlatched the door and peered without. Seeing nothing, he scampered down the corridor and made his way down the tower stairs. All was silent and frightfully so.

He slowed his pace at the entrance to the Great Hall and examined the number of men who lounged about drinking and eating their fill. To his dismay, he did not recognize any of Berwyck’s garrison. The men’s laughter grated on his ears whilst they boasted of their easy victory. Patrick could not miss how Sir Hugh sat at the high table, lording over all.
The traitor . . . What trickery is this?
he wondered. Patrick listened only long enough to hear Sir Hugh bellow to the men to get their sorry arses out to patrol his battlements. Patrick soundlessly quit the room. He had heard more than enough.

Keeping to the shadows, he made his way towards the kitchens and held his finger to his lips to silence the servants, who were surprised and overjoyed to see him. Cook led him to the back of the room behind some barrels of flour. He was joyful to see Lynet, although he frowned at her change in clothing. Dressed in a gown of coarse wool, she was frantically mixing various herbs together.

“Here, you but need put the potion into our enemies’ ale and wine.” Lynet gave the satchels to Cook, explaining, “’twill make them sleep.” She turned to her brother and said, “Sir Hugh has thrown Amiria, along with Riorden and Ulrick, into the pit. You must continue to hide, Patrick. Be safe.” With a look of concern in her eyes, she gave Patrick a quick peck on his cheek and rose. “Now, I must be on my way,” she said softly and left to return to the healing of those in need.

Patrick, having learned of Amiria’s fate, could not believe anyone, even someone as foul as Sir Hugh, would sink so low as to put a woman in Berwyck’s pit. ’Twas a foul place and far worse than his most recent place of hiding.

Since Cook would see to serving those in the Great Hall, Patrick held out his small hands for another pitcher. “I will do my duty to my sister and descend below into the bowels of the castle and encourage the guards to drink their fill,” he declared. With the pitcher in his hands, he gulped down his feeling of the sudden fear attempting to creep upon and consume him. Trying not to spill the contents of the jug, Patrick slowly made his way down the steep steps into the depths of the most dreadful place to be found within Berwyck’s walls.

Reaching the final step, he moved into the light where three guards immediately came to attention.

“Who goes there?” asked the tallest guard.

He made an excuse as he held out the jug. “The ale is an offering from Sir Hugh for a job well done.”

The men took the jug, taking turns as they greedily guzzled down the brew. With a loud belch, one went back to his post and waved Patrick away to fetch more.

Patrick took the pitcher and made it appear as if he returned above to fill their request. Instead, he waited in the darkness on the stairs for the herbs to work their magic. When he heard the loud thuds, as one by one the guards fell to the floor, he quietly came down the remaining steps to peer within the room. Snores met his ears, and Patrick gave a sheepish smile. Looking for the keys and finding them hanging from the belt on the tall guard, he gave a brief laugh at his cleverness and turned towards the first of several cells. ’Twas time to free his sister.

Thirty-nine

Amiria was freezing. Her legs and body exhausted from trying to keep herself out of the sticky slime beneath her feet. She swore when she was released from here, she would demand the pit be filled in forevermore. The dungeon itself would be punishment enough, since the cold penetrated down to one’s bones at this level beneath the keep.

How long had they remained here in the darkness, she did not know. It seemed God had forsaken her, but still she continued to offer up prayers to save her and her guardsmen from the hellhole they found themselves in.

For she was not alone in her misery
. . . nay, she was not. Riorden and Ulrick shared her fate as they huddled together, trying to find enough warmth between the three of them. Unfortunately, they were failing and would not be able to endure the extreme temperature much longer. They had attempted to climb one on top of the other to escape, but had failed to reach anywhere near the top of the slick and icy walls. Now they stood there shivering in the cold dampness of their prison. ’Twas almost ironic she would wind up in the pit of all places, and yet this was better than in Hugh’s bed.

Images of how she had put up a valiant fight flashed within her mind. At least she had taken down two opponents afore Hugh had stepped in to take over, in his pursuit to become victorious. His remaining men had poured from the doorway and she could do nothing to stop them whilst Hugh had bellowed at them to get the gates opened. In the end, the narrow passageway had been her downfall when she inadvertently tripped over one of the fallen men. With nowhere to go when her feet flew out from beneath her, Hugh had brought his sword forward, knocking her blade from her hands. To watch his face light up as he grabbed her and then feel his lips viciously crushing her own, she did not know which had been worse.

Repulsed, she had done the only thing she could think of and, clenching her gauntlet hand into a tight fist, she had swung back her arm. Blood had oozed from the cuts she slashed across his face. Amiria had then been the one to smile in satisfaction. Her small victory had not lasted long, however, for he had retaliated in kind, knocking her senseless.

She had roused briefly at the sound of those coming to her aid. The feeling of a knife to one’s neck tended to bring one back to their senses though. The sound of Hugh’s voice, threatening to slice her throat if her men advanced further, had added to her disbelief and disappointment she had failed. Her eyes had met Riorden’s and she had seen his displeasure from her disregard to follow his orders. ’Twould have made no difference, however, since deceit had won the day.

Left with no alternative since her life was in jeopardy, Riorden and the other guardsmen had surrendered their swords in surrender. They had been herded down the stairs of the tower at the point of steely blades. Turquine and Taegan had put up the biggest fight as they were led down into the depths of the dungeon whilst Killian and Nevin had followed suit, voicing crudely how the men would pay.

Amiria thought she was to have shared their same fate when her men had been thrown into their cells. But the iron doors had closed with a loud clang and the key had been inserted to lock the men in. The guardsman had then turned to Ulrick and Riorden, and, with a leer, they were shoved coldheartedly down into the castle’s pit.

Hugh had advanced on her and she had felt his breath on her skin that began to crawl at his touch. He had told her in no uncertain terms she would be in his bed, but not afore Amiria learned her place. She had let out a scream in fear whilst she, too, was pushed into the murky depths below.

The rancid stench had immediately risen up to meet her, even as her feet sunk up to her ankles in slime. The two men had broken her fall, but she had gagged at the smell surrounding them. Once she had gained her balance, she came to the fast realization there was not much room to move between the three of them. ’Twas as the torch light faded above to only a glowing glimmer that she had turned to her companions. They had found themselves thrown into hell.

She had not been able to see her own hand, let alone the faces of Riorden and Ulrick, but they had made quick work of divesting themselves of their armor. At least it had kept the majority of the muck off their feet, but their holding was slippery to say the least.

So here they stood, since sitting was not an option. The men continued to try to warm her, for she had one in front and the other to her back. But ’twas to no avail. Amiria had tried to change position with her two guards numerous times, but Riorden and Ulrick only grunted their responses of nay. They would do what they could to keep her warm no matter the cost to themselves. Chivalry, it seemed, reigned on in Dristan’s knights, no matter what ordeal they faced.

Numb from the cold and drained from standing for so long, Amiria became aware of a faint sound. She raised her weary head and listened again. Was it just her imagination, or did she hear a barely audible and familiar whistle? Aye . . . there ’twas again, and she squinted in the darkness as a light appeared from above her.

She saw no ghostly apparition beckoning her on towards the heavens, nor a frightening banshee claiming her to join the souls already doomed in the underworld. Instead, Finlay poked his head over the side and spoke softly, “Lady Amiria, can you hear me?”

Joy filled her heart when a rope was lowered. One by one, they began their climb ’til they reached the top ledge and eager hands reached out to their aid. Freedom had never felt so good, and Amiria looked around at all, who began to speak, asking of her welfare. It seemed that despite a few scratches and bruises, all had fared well.

Thomas stepped forward and offered her his cloak, which she accepted gladly.

“How is it you are free, Sir Thomas?” she asked in amazement and looked upon each of her guardsmen, who gave her a sheepish grin. Dristan’s men were no better and began to laugh in earnest.

Their circle around Amiria opened ’til one small form came forward, shuffling his feet with downcast eyes.

“Patrick!” Amiria called, and looked about her men, who began clapping the boy on his back. His smile broadened and Amiria watched her young brother beam with pride at his accomplishment.

“Yer da would be proud o’ this young
laddie,” Killian boasted, as if he were Patrick’s sire. “’E ’n Lady Lynet put ’erbs in the ale tae make the guards fall asleep but ’twas the courage of yer brother that ’as freed us all!”

Amiria gathered her brother in her arms in a fierce embrace. “I am so very proud of you Patrick,” she said quietly. She felt his arms wrap themselves around her waist and she was never more grateful for anything in her life than to know her siblings were safe.

She felt him loosen his grip and saw his embarrassment afore the men at such a sign of affection. Trying to regain his composure, he tugged on his sister’s arm ’til Amiria leaned down so he could whisper in her ear. “I was so scared, Amiria, but I dinnae show it,” Patrick muttered.

Amiria saw his chin tremble slightly and gathered him to her once more. “I would imagine you were, dear brother, but you have done well in obtaining our rescue.”

Patrick beamed at her praise, and the guards began to gather around them in a protective shield of strength. ’Twas clear in their stance they were more determined than ever to keep them safe and secure as they reclaimed the castle in Dristan’s name.

Riorden took control over the group and began to strategize their plan to return above, even whilst the men put in their own words of advice. Amiria shushed them when their voices began to rise in volume. She spoke quickly to Patrick, ordering him to return above to hide out in the
garderobe once more. His grumbles reminded her of her husband and she ruffled his hair, telling him to scoot. He did so, even though he voiced his displeasure of where he must needs return.

Without haste, Riorden, Ulrick, and Amiria donned their armor despite the smell and swords were thrust into their willing hands. One by one, the men began to ascend the stairs from the core of the castle. Riorden halted Amiria, as her foot was placed on the first step, for they were the last to depart the dungeon area.

“You will stay behind me at all times, else you stay here where I know you shall remain safe,” he demanded gruffly. “Your word, Lady Amiria.”

“Aye, Captain de Devereux, you have it,” Amiria agreed as he looked her up and down to assess the truth of her words. He must have believed her since he began to take the stairs two at a time in order to catch up with their men.

She trembled slightly as she made to follow him and gave a quick prayer that God above would be with them this day. She would not feel secure ’til she once more found her own blade in her hand instead of one that already felt too heavy for her to lift. She had the notion on just where she would search. Amiria knew the first order of the day would be to find that low life scum Hugh. God help him when he was at last afore her so she might exact her revenge for her trip into the pit! She began her steady climb up the steep steps to follow her new Captain with a look of sheer determination lighting her face.