Authors: Delilah Devlin,Myla Jackson
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Delilah Devlin & Myla Jackson
This became the mind-numbing routine for the rest of the long afternoon. Percy didn’t attempt to send soldiers against the wall again. Geoffrey speculated he intended to inflict as many casualties as he could from a distance before launching another attack to breach the walls.
His tactics were working. Casualties among Rathburn’s force mounted, including one of the women archers in the north tower. Jacq mourned the loss of every one of them.
As the sun set on the first grueling day of the siege, Jacq sent up a silent prayer to God and Rufus to deliver them from this nightmare.
* * * * *
Rufus pushed his men, stopping only when it became too dark to distinguish the trail before them. While the others fell into exhausted sleep, Rufus paced.
“Rufus, for heaven’s sake, get some rest,” Donald urged. “You will be of little use tomorrow if you’re too fatigued to fight.”
“I cannot rest when I know not what awaits us at Rathburn.” Rufus paused in his pacing. “Do you think she is still there?”
“And where else would she be? The castle is likely under siege at this very moment.
Besides, with a fine stallion like yourself coming to her rescue, what woman could resist?” Donald yawned loudly.
Rufus snorted, and then sat on the ground next to his friend. “I cannot rest. My mind is racing.”
“Does that mean we both must be awake?”
Rufus ignored the note of complaint in his voice. He shifted uncomfortably, then asked casually, “Donald, what do you know of love?”
Donald blew out a loud sigh. “Women love. Men lust.”
“Yes, yes. I know. But how do you suppose a…woman…knows when she is in love?”
“Having no experience, I have heard she is consumed by thoughts of her beloved.
Her appetite decreases because her stomach is in turmoil, and she loses
sleep
.”
Rufus’ stomach burbled. “It sounds like an illness.” And he recognized every symptom.
“Aye, ‘tis an illness. But it is what binds the best of marriages. The woman loves and cares for the family they make together. The man slakes his lust upon her.
Everyone is satisfied. Now, may I sleep?”
Rufus snorted. “She is too stubborn for her own good.”
“By ‘she’, I assume we are still speaking of Lady Jacq?”
“Yes.”
“My friend, she is stubborn enough to survive. Now Rufus, for God’s sake—sleep!”
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Jacq’s Warlord
Rufus slumped down on the ground and looked at the stars above him. Was she looking at the same sky? Was she thinking of him?
* * * * *
Jacq spent an agonizing night atop the wall. By turns Geoffrey, Gwen, the priest and even little Annie begged her to come inside the keep to rest, but she refused. She shared her misery with the other warriors who kept watch throughout the night.
Gwen clucked over her stubbornness, but satisfied herself with changing Jacq’s bandages and applying a poultice to her wounds to ward off infection. Father Haskell brought warm furs to wrap around her, and Annie carried her meal and shared it with her.
Although her arm throbbed incessantly, she managed to take catnaps, seated with her back against the stone parapet. When she wasn’t napping, she was thinking.
Drawing up her knees, she rested her head. Her life had certainly taken a few strange turns in the past weeks. She fretted she no longer knew herself. She began to see facets to her personality she’d never dreamed of. It was a fact, she’d never thought herself capable of killing and yet she had. She’d never seen herself as particularly brave, but she’d defended herself against Percy’s attack that day in the woods, and she’d battled against trained warriors and prevailed.
She’d fallen in love.
Jacq understood the desire burning so fiercely between herself and Rufus. The lust had been a powerful and tangible thing. A force of nature. The instinct to mate with him—the need to hold his powerful body to hers, to breathe in his scent, draw his thrusts deep inside her—was imprinted on the strands of her DNA.
When had it become love? More importantly, how could she ever let it go?
The priest’s prayer had brought her here, but once her purpose was fulfilled, could she stay? Should she? She knew Rufus desired her every bit as much as she did him, but he’d never said he loved her and she doubted he ever would.
Possession seemed the strongest emotion he could offer her. What belonged to him, he held ferociously. Remembering their many private battles, she realized each stemmed from her resistance to his ownership. She was a woman from the future…she belonged to herself.
“I’m making myself crazy,” she murmured.
Tired, she closed her eyes, only to be prevented from falling into a deep sleep by Geoffrey’s voice, ringing loudly in the still night air. “Time to look to the walls.”
Jacq cursed under her breath, hauling up her long frame to peer over the wall. At Geoffrey’s instruction, torches dipped in pitch were tossed over the side at intervals to illuminate the walls and ensure the enemy wasn’t trying to use the cover of night to scale them. This time like the last, the torches revealed no signs of a stealthy assault.
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For tonight, Percy seemed content to pull back, setting up camp near the tree line.
Every so often, his men would yell a taunt or shout an obscenity, reminding the people of the castle they were near.
Their continued harassment kept the defenders awake throughout the interminable night. By the time the first light of morning spread across the horizon, the people of Rathburn were exhausted and weary of the game.
Percy and his men on the other hand were rested and ready to renew their attack.
“Lady Jacq!” Percy called out from below.
Jacq stood and looked over the side. “What do you want, Percy?” She struggled to keep fatigue from sounding in her voice.
He’d ridden out from his camp alone. The early morning sun rising behind him glinted off his hair, creating an effect that looked like a halo. Jacq’s lips twisted at her fanciful thought. Percy was no angel.
“Why do you persist in this defiance, Jacq?” he asked, his voice all the more insidious by its teasing tone. “You know you will be mine. Give yourself over to me and I will let the good people of Rathburn live.”
All through the previous night, she’d tossed his suggestion around in her head. If only he could be believed… “Go to Hell, Percy!”
“Tut, tut. Did we not sleep well last night, love? Don’t let fatigue cloud your better judgment. My offer can be withdrawn at any moment.” He shook his head, his expression even from the distance held disappointment. “Think about the women and children, Jacq.”
She let the moment draw out, refusing to answer him.
Finally, he turned his horse back toward his camp. She shuddered at the thought of her fate in his hands. So far, Rathburn’s inhabitants hadn’t wavered in their dismissal of his offer. She wondered if that would change the longer the siege drew out.
Jacq flexed her left arm. Although stiff, so far it appeared to be healing well despite the fact the wound had reopened during the battle the previous evening. She looked out over the bare expanse of the hill. What had been a lush, green meadow was now a trampled field with large craters, strewn with debris from broken ladders, discarded bits of rope and dark bloodstained patches of dirt. The trebuchet stood alone, an ominous giant in the pearly gray dawn. Percy’s force lay in the shadow of the tree line making it difficult to see movement in his camp.
Suddenly, men stepped out of the shadows.
“Heads up! They’re coming again!” she shouted.
The men and women around her scurried to their positions, ready for the next round of the game. Percy hadn’t learned any new tricks. Once again, two rows of archers approached beneath the cover of their shields.
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Jacq’s Warlord
A hand clamped on her shoulder. “Think you the wicks on the last of your bombs will still light?” Geoffrey asked, worry and fatigue deepening the furrows in his forehead. “The dew wasn’t very heavy last night.”
Jacq shrugged. “I soaked them in oil. They might start slowly, but they should burn.”
Geoffrey grinned. “We’ll keep their shields up so they won’t see what’s coming until too late.”
A moment later, arrows rained down on the attackers, many falling short of their targets. The shields remained up, and Geoffrey and Jacq took advantage to send flaming arrows to the few remaining stakes in the ground. When the first burst into flame, the men on the ground retreated. The explosions did little damage, catching only a few with shrapnel in their backsides, but Rathburn’s warriors cheered.
“I hope they have splinters in their asses!” Jacq flung her good arm around Geoffrey and hugged him, laughing. “Round one is ours!”
The rest of the morning didn’t go as well. Percy was relentless. The sound of the trebuchet arm creaking as it was pulled back for each reload, then cracking sharply as it sprang forward to deliver its missiles, filled the defenders with constant dread. Percy’s men inched closer, while the castle’s warriors ducked low behind the merlons to avoid the enemy’s arrows.
By midmorning, the stench of burning tar, scorched timbers and sweat filled Jacq’s nostrils. Grappling hooks sailed once more over the top of the wall and ladders were leaned against the stone. As fast as someone raced along the scaffolding to cut the line or fire an arrow at a man scaling a ladder, another replaced it.
Jacq grabbed a gourd bomb and lit the fuse, jumping up to toss it over the side, then ducking down to keep from being hit by another volley of arrows. This was no way to defend. They wouldn’t be able to stop the soldiers coming up if they couldn’t stand long enough to shoot at them.
A shout alerted her to a soldier climbing over the wall behind her. With a shrill battle cry, she drew her sword and ran to confront him. He was already on his feet, sword drawn.
Weary from her injury and lack of sleep, Jacq felt like she was moving in slow motion, like a dream. She met the first slashing arc of the sword with her own, both hands wrapped around the pommel. Each ragged beat of her heart, each harsh breath she dragged into her lungs, was loud and labored. Beaten back with every blow, her thoughts began to disassociate with her battle, finding the safe place inside her where she grew calm and resigned that now would be the moment of her death.
Her feet slid out from under her and she let go of the sword. She watched in fascination as the warrior’s blade rose high above his head.
Rufus, I love you!
Regret that she’d never have the chance to tell him swept through her.
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“Jacq!” Gwen’s frantic call woke her from her stupor in time for her to roll from beneath his blade. When she looked back to her attacker, his face twisted in agony as he tried to reach behind him. He dropped his sword and pitched forward to the rock walkway next to her, an arrow lodged high in his shoulder.
Gwen stood behind him, her chest heaving, her bow still raised. Their gazes met and Gwen shuddered, closing her eyes briefly, before she ran to Jacq and held out her hand to pull her up.
“Look! Lord Rathburn comes!” a cry went up from one of the soldiers on the wall.
Jacq leaned heavily against Gwen, dragging her down with her until they were both kneeling on the cold stones. A deep wrenching sob racked her body, and Gwen’s arms circled her. As Gwen crooned, rocking her, Jacq gave way to her profound relief.
* * * * *
When Rufus had passed the first landmark at the border of Rathburn lands, he urged his men to hurry. Within the hour they reached the edge of the forest that opened onto the wide expanse of green surrounding the keep.
The castle was not yet in sight, when they heard a thunderous boom. Not waiting to determine the source of the sound, they spurred their horses to greater speed, charging out of the trees and into the clearing.
With one glance, he read the field of battle. The walls of the castle were just now being breached. The arm of the trebuchet sprang forward, and the cries of those inside the walls could be heard above the din of combat. Smoke reeking of sulfur choked the misty air, masking their arrival until they were within shouting distance. The attention of the attackers was focused on the men carrying the roughly hewn log of a battering ram toward the gatehouse.
With swords raised, Rufus and his men swept down on the enemy army. Spotting Percy screaming orders from the rear of his force, Rufus raced straight for him.
With all their focus on the castle, Percy’s soldiers were caught by surprise when they were attacked from the rear. Archers threw down their bows, drawing their swords to defend themselves. The men scaling the walls realized they no longer had cover of the archers and slid down the ropes to join the fight on the ground. The battering ram was dropped to roll down the hill, knocking more than one of Sedgwick’s soldiers off their feet. Confusion gave way to a pitched battle once the soldiers recognized the source of the new threat.
Rufus noted the change in the direction of the battle and a surge of satisfaction swelled inside his chest. The Rathburn soldiers remaining in the castle would be able to fend off those who managed to penetrate their defenses. Now, he could concentrate on dealing with Sedgwick.
Slashing his sword with the fury of a madman, he sliced and hacked his way through a sea of enemy soldiers, clearing path to Percival.
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“Kill him, you imbeciles!” Percy screamed, his voice rising to a fevered pitch.
Careless of the men who stood beside him, he wheeled his horse and rode toward the center, surrounding himself with his own men.
“Why don’t you do your own fighting, Percy? End this like a man. Or are you afraid?” Rufus roared over the battlefield cries, taunting the man who would steal his land and kill his people.
More warriors fell to Rufus’ sword until only two remained standing between him and Percy.