Kathryn Le Veque (11 page)

Chrystobel was weeping uncontrollably but she nodded. Gryffyn yanked her hair one last time as he thrust the dirk at her, placing it into her shaking hands. Then he let go of her hair and watched her fall to the floor. His gaze, furious only moments before, was now strangely impassive as he looked at his sister huddled in a terrified heap.

“It is your duty as a Welshman to kill the English vermin,” he told her. “If you do not, then I will know you are a traitor and I will kill you the first chance I get. Once you are dead, I will kill Izlyn and Father as well. I will leave no one in this family alive, so you hold everyone’s lives in your hand. Kill your husband or I will kill you. Is this in any way unclear?”

Sobbing, Chrystobel nodded her head. “It… it ‘tis.”

Gryffyn felt very powerful at that moment, pleased with his plan to kill de Poyer. As usual, he would have someone else do his dirty work for him. This time, it would be his sister.

“Good,” he grunted. “I will be down in the storage vaults. You are correct. It is the best place to hide. I will await word of your success.”

He meant it as a threat and she took it as one. Chrystobel remained in a ball on the floor, her face against the wooden planks, hearing Gryffyn as he stomped to her chamber door and swiftly quit the chamber. Like a violent storm, Gryffyn had swept along the land, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake. But the moment he vacated, the sudden silence was both comforting and eerie.

Once he was gone, Chrystobel jumped up and ran to the door, throwing the iron bolt so that he could not come back inside. Then she collapsed against the door, weeping and frightened. All she’d ever known from the man was terror, since she had been a small girl. He continued to put the fear of the devil in her, a primal instinct that had been instilled in her long ago. It therefore took her several moments before she was able to calm sufficiently.

Still sniffling, she pushed away from the door and made her way back to Izlyn, who had lain back down in the bed and pulled the coverlets fearfully over her head. The little girl was trembling, too, and Chrystobel lay down next to her, snuggling with the child to comfort her. All the while, Chrystobel was very torn with the course her life would take over the next few hours. She was terrified of Gryffyn, enough so that she was actually considering doing his bidding. She knew her brother well enough to know he meant what he said. He would kill them all should she fail.

But in the next breath, her new husband had sworn to protect her. She didn’t know the man and she didn’t yet trust his word – should she believe him? Or should she do her brother’s will simply to keep her family alive? Her entire life had been filled with these moments, threats of murder from a man who delighted in spreading panic. She was so very sick of the fear, so perhaps it was time to do something about it.

The dirk was still in her hand and she opened her palm to look at it, gleaming dully in the weak firelight. Perhaps it was time to take a leap of faith to save her father and her sister, to trust a man she had only known a matter of hours. She was coming to feel as if Keller de Poyer was her only hope, an English enemy who had sworn to defend her. Nay, she could no longer subject herself and her family to Gryffyn’s tyranny because to do so, ultimately, would only cause their deaths. This she knew as certainly as she lived and breathed. Someday, someway, Gryffyn would kill them all.

It was time to take a stand.



It was an hour or two before dawn by the time Keller made his way back to Chrystobel’s chamber. Over six hours of searching had failed to produce Gryffyn, so he put his men on shifts to watch over the Welsh inhabitants of Nether. Half went to bed while the other half remained awake and vigilant, guarding the unhappy Welsh.

The more the minutes passed, the more enraged he was about Gryffyn’s absence. He was coming to think that the man had fled the castle, which would have been the right thing to do. Gryffyn was more intelligent than he gave him credit for if that was the case, and as Keller made his way up to Chrystobel’s chamber, he struggled to push aside thoughts of the man. He didn’t want to carry that poison over into the lady’s chamber. He didn’t want that vile man on his mind when he looked at her.

The keep was dark and quiet at this hour as he reached the second floor landing. There were two chambers on this floor and he went to the chamber on the left, the one that overlooked the southern portion of the bailey. Lifting the latch, he gave a shove but the door was bolted. He knocked softly.

It took a moment for him to hear movement. He could hear feet on the floor, coming closer. Chrystobel’s voice hissed at him from the other side of the panel.

“Who comes?” she demanded.

“It is your husband, Lady de Poyer.”

He could hear the iron bolt being thrown, grating against the wood. The door opened slightly, but only enough to allow Chrystobel out. Keller was forced to step back as she came onto the landing, closing the chamber door behind her. He couldn’t help but notice that she was in a sleeping shift with a heavy shawl draped around her shoulders. A sleeping shift made him think of a bed, and a bed made him think of consummating their marriage. She also smelled of flowers, something he found quite alluring. He was still dwelling on the scent of violets when she began to speak, jolting him out of his somewhat lustful thoughts.

“Izlyn is asleep and I did not wish to wake her with our conversation,” she whispered. “I must speak with you.”

Keller could sense her grim mood. “How may I be of service?”

Chrystobel looked up at him, her brown eyes deep and bottomless. It was evident that there was much on her mind, a thousand questions without adequate answers. He was coming to see that the woman had no ability to hide her emotions. They were written all over her face. After a moment, she sighed faintly.

“Did you find my brother?” she asked.

“Nay.”

She grunted softly. “Nor will you, I suppose,” she muttered. “My lord, I must ask you something and I would beg you to be truthful.”

“I always am.”

She was very hesitant and the words came out in spurts. “You… you are a stranger here,” she said nervously. “I have only known you a few hours, yet you are my husband. I do not know you as a man of character or honor yet. I can only assume such things because of your rank. You said earlier that Gryffyn’s violence towards us would be no more and I very much hope… that is to say, I want to believe you. But there are things you do not know.”

Keller took her statement very seriously. He crossed his big arms, bracing his legs apart as he settled in for the conversation. “I suspect there is a great deal I do not know about this place and about you,” he said. “But the question is whether or not you intend to tell me, or if you intend on keeping secrets.”

She looked both surprised and offended. “It is not secrets I keep but family realities,” she said. “This is
my
family and there are things….”

He interrupted her. “I told you earlier than you and your family belongs to me now,” he said. “I am your family and it is my right to know what goes on here. What is it that you are not telling me?”

Her nervousness was growing worse. “All families have issues that they do not wish to share with outsiders,” she said. “You, my lord, are an outsider.”

“I am your husband.”

“But I do not
know
you.”

“If you continue to keep secrets, you will never come to know me and I will always be a stranger to you. Is that what you truly wish?”

Nay, she didn’t. Chrystobel looked at him, his intense gaze and intelligent face, and realized that he made a good deal of sense. He was her husband, and would be forever, and it was time to build the bridges of trust unless she wanted a miserable marriage. She would have to make the first move because she very much wanted his help and she wanted to believe him when he said he would defend her. With a deep breath for courage, she opened her mouth to speak but tears popped to her eyes instead. It was fear, pure and simple. She had to fight through it.

“Gryffyn came to me earlier this evening,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. Then she held up her right hand, the one clutching the dirk Gryffyn had given her, and extended it to Keller. “He told me I had to kill you. He told me that if I did not, he would consider me a traitor and kill me and Izlyn and my father. He said he would kill us all if I did not abide by his command.”

Keller eyed her a moment before taking the dirk. It was small, but sharp enough to do damage. He inspected it a moment, struggling not to feel an inordinate amount of hatred towards Gryffyn. Emotions were misplaced in warfare, and this was definitely war. Gryffyn had challenged him since nearly the moment he had entered the walls of Nether, and now the game was increasing in intensity. It was growing deadly.

Gryffyn was including his sister in his games, instructing the woman to murder on his behalf. The fact that she had divulged her brother’s scheme told Keller that she wasn’t allying herself with her brother, which relieved him tremendously. She could have very easily obeyed him, but she hadn’t. Instead, she had come to Keller for help. He knew she had done it more out of fear of her brother than of her loyalty to her new husband, but it didn’t matter. Trust went both ways, and now it was time for him to earn her trust. She was placing her faith in him and he would not fail.

“Why did you not send word to me in the bailey that he had come to you?” he asked calmly.

Chrystobel shook her head. “How?” she asked. “You have taken all of the servants away and I could not leave Izzie alone. I knew you would come to me, eventually. But there is more you should know.”

“What is that?”

Chrystobel felt terrible telling him such things, ashamed at her brother’s appalling behavior. “He admitted to being behind the attempt on your knight’s life,” she said. “From what I could gather, he meant the arrow for you.”

Keller wasn’t surprised to hear that. Rather than be angry about it, he thought the entire circumstance ridiculous. It was a coward of a man who stood in the shadows and directed others to do his deadly deeds only to fail at them.

“I am sure it was but, like a fool, he entrusted other fools to do what he should have done himself,” he said almost philosophically, glancing up at her to see her genuinely contrite expression. He felt rather sorry for her. “Do you know where your brother is now?”

She nodded. “He is in the storage vaults,” she said helpfully, relieved that he wasn’t taking her brother’s nasty behavior out on her. “There are many places to hide in there but only one way in or out. You will find the door to the stores on the level beneath this chamber, cut into the floor of the small feasting hall that my father sometimes uses.”

Keller nodded, absorbing the information, and turned to leave. Chrystobel, however, reached out to grasp his arm.

“Please,” she begged softly, blinking back tears. “He means what he says. When he discovers I have betrayed him, he will kill me.”

Keller put a big hand over her small one, feeling her warmth as it seared through his glove. For a moment, he was so caught up in her magnificent eyes that he almost forgot what he was going to say. Quickly, he regrouped.

“Nay, he will not,” he said quietly. “I will send my men up here to guard your chamber. No one will get past them, and once I catch your brother, he will understand the meaning of my wrath. I swear he will never be a threat to you or your family again, my lady. I will not betray your faith.”

Chrystobel believed every word. There was something about the man that was deeply sincere. She nodded her head.

“I believe you.”

He took her hand and, removing it from his arm, kissed it softly before letting it go. “Return to your chamber, now,” he instructed. “Bolt the door and do not open it for anyone but me or my knights. Is that clear?”

Chrystobel was still reeling from the kiss to her hand but managed to nod. “It is.”

He smiled faintly at her as he pointed to the door. “Go inside,” he told her. “I will not leave until I hear the bolt thrown.”

Chrystobel somehow managed to make it back into her chamber, dutifully locking the door as he had instructed. She leaned against the door, listening to his boot falls fade down the stairs, before looking at the hand he had kissed. She could still feel his lips against her flesh, a gesture that had made her heart race and her knees tremble. There was something overwhelmingly powerful about the man, something she had never before experienced. All she knew was that his presence was growing stronger by the minute.

She should have been rightfully nervous about trusting him to subdue her brother. She should have been terrified that all would not go as planned and that Keller would fail her in spite of his declaration. She knew what her brother was capable of. She had yet to know what Keller was capable of. Perhaps he would be weaker or less cunning than Gryffyn, but somehow, she didn’t think so. Keller de Poyer was anything but weak. She hoped that her brother had finally met his match.

Gazing down at her hand, the one Keller had kissed, she could only pray that she was right.

