Medieval Ever After (38 page)

“I am heading to the postern gate,” he said. “I do not trust these fools that all of this activity at the gatehouse is not a ruse.”

Stephen gave him a grin. “What makes you think this is a ruse? There are thousands of Scots all over the bloody place. They are everywhere.”

Kenneth’s lips twitched. “I think all of Scotland has come down around us. What did you do to make them so angry?”

Stephen shrugged in an exaggerated gesture as if he had no idea. “I make them furious simply by living.”

“You have the same effect on me.”

They snorted as Stephen gestured to the bombs that Kenneth was carrying. “The postern gate is heavily protected but I agree with you,” he said. “Take what you must in case you need to defend it.”

Kenneth descended the stairs and emerged into the bailey, dodging a flurry of arrows that came sailing over the walls. The castle was completely surrounded by Scots, more than he had ever seen, and he was concerned as to how long Berwick could hold out against such an onslaught. It was worse than he had originally imagined it would be. He wondered what happened to the spies they sent out after Kynan, presuming that the men must have been discovered and killed. But that was his last calm thought before he came into view of the postern gate, seeing immediately that it had been torn off its hinges in a massive breach. There were dozens of English fighting off a flood of Scots who were struggling to pour in through the man-sized gate. It would only allow one man at a time but the Scots were attempting to dispute that. Limbs, heads and bloody bodies littered the area near the gate.

Kenneth dropped the bombs and unsheathed his broadsword. Before he rushed on the group, he turned in the direction of the gatehouse and bellowed one harrowing word.

“Breach!”

Stephen heard Kenneth from his post on the gatehouse. It was a booming, stressful cry. He would have known it anywhere. He ran to the east side of the gatehouse, able to see the postern gate from his vantage point. He could see a flood of men pouring through the opening.

“Seal up the gatehouse,” he snapped to the soldiers on the parapets, jabbing a finger at the two closest to him. “Get to the keep and seal it. Same for the great hall.
Move!
”

The men ran to do his bidding as both portcullises dropped and the soldiers began sealing up the gatehouse and towers, compartmentalizing their fighting areas so that if one portion was breached, another one would not automatically be compromised. The English were calm and decisive as they sealed up the castle and Stephen watched with satisfaction as one area after another was sealed off. But he also noted with some concern that the Scots seemed to be multiplying. They were literally everywhere and he divided his attention between watching them breach the bailey and the siege engines that were preparing to breach the walls.

Two of the siege engines were burning thanks to the oil bombs. Apparently, not all of the wood was wet and the dry wood had caught fire and was burning heavy smoke into the noon sky. The Scots struggled to dismantle and move aside the burning siege engines and pull the non-compromised towers up to the wall. It was a long process that had slowed them down considerably. However, the fight in the bailey was in full force and Stephen watched from the walls as Kenneth and about two hundred English soldiers fended off what must have been hundreds and hundreds of Scots. Stephen could see Kenneth near the gate itself, his massive broadsword cutting down man after man. He had to grin at the man’s enthusiasm.

On the north side of the castle, ladders were being pushed up against the walls. Stephen could hear the call for assistance go up from the northern wall and he moved to help along with several other soldiers. By the time he got to the north wall walk, several ladders were already alongside the walls and the enemy was beginning to mount the parapets.

Stephen unsheathed his broadsword, smelling blood.

THE SAVAGE CURTAIN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It had been
over two weeks since Joselyn left Berwick. She was counting the days since she last saw her husband because he had told her that their separation would not be a long one. No more than a few weeks, he had told her. Well, a little over two weeks was a few weeks as far as she was concerned and she was growing increasingly anxious. She had mentioned it to Lady de Lara, who in turn told her husband to send a soldier to Berwick to see how the situation was faring.

The soldier also carried a missive from Lady Pembury to her husband, something sweet and short. Joselyn was coming to see that Lady de Lara was most definitely the route to go in order to have her wishes known to Tate. The words were not even out of Toby’s mouth before Tate was moving to fulfill her requests. But, then again, Stephen was the same way with her.

Not that the past two weeks had been terrible. On the contrary, she was having a marvelous time. Toby was sweet and hospitable, and she liked her very much. She and Cade had also come to know each other better during this time and she could see that he was a generally sad boy but eager to please. She wanted to make him happy, to see him smile more, so she spent as much time as she could with him when he was not playing with Roman and the twins. But as time passed and Cade began to realize that a life he had never expected was opening up to him, he began to show more joy in things.

Joselyn had played a child’s game of cards with him the night before, along with Roman, Cate, Dylan and Alex, and she was coming to see the happy boy beneath the sad façade. Roman and Cade had conspired to cheat against Dylan and Alex, causing the twins to start fighting each other, and Joselyn had sat back and watched while Roman and Cade nearly busted a gut laughing about it. It had been truly hilarious to watch and in that small gesture, she found herself falling more deeply in love with her son. He would make Stephen proud.

It was near the nooning meal on this warm day as Joselyn sat with Toby in Toby’s well-appointed solar. Toby was without the baby as the child napped in the room above her head, and her other children were outside with a big, burly man who had been introduced to Joselyn as Wallace. Joselyn was not entirely sure about the gruff old man when she had first met him but she had come to see that he was something of a grandfather to the de Lara children. They clearly adored him. She was not sure if he was a servant or a soldier, but mostly, he was a playmate and mentor. When the children weren’t with Tate or Toby, they were with Wallace.

Cade was with him, too. She could hear the children playing some sort of game from the bailey as she worked on a piece of needlepoint in a frame. She had never had much time for lady-like pursuits so this was fairly unfamiliar territory. She had jabbed her finger with the needle several times as Toby sat across from her and wrote on parchment. Joselyn had discovered that Toby managed all of Tate’s books and estates, and she greatly admired the woman for her learned ways.

“Ouch!” Joselyn jabbed herself for the tenth time in as many minutes, sucking the finger with the blood prick. She looked at Toby. “I am not getting any better at this. I would do better chopping wood.”

Toby snorted, looking up from her quill. “You have not given yourself enough time to become familiar with the techniques,” she said encouragingly. “I think your bird looks very good.”

“It is a butterfly.”

Toby stared at her a moment before breaking down into laughter. “Your butterfly looks terrible.”

Joselyn burst into snickers. “You do not have to be so cruel about it,” she teased.

Toby lifted an eyebrow. “Did you not know that about me? I am a cruel woman.”

Joselyn watched her return to her books, her smile fading. “Nay, you are not,” she said softly. “You are one of the kindest people I have ever met. Growing up, I never truly had a friend. Then, when I went to Jedburgh, emotional attachments with others were discouraged. The nuns believed the only attachment should be to God. I suppose this is the first time I have ever had someone to really talk to.”

Over the weeks, Toby had heard more of Joselyn’s harrowing life and she looked at the woman, her expression soft with sympathy. “You and I had the same kind of life,” she replied quietly. “Before I met my husband, I managed my father’s affairs because he was too drunk to do it, tended my bedridden mother, and raised my little sister. My entire life revolved around ensuring that our family survived. I never had a friend, either.”

Joselyn smiled timidly. “Do you suppose we are friends now?”

Toby nodded her head emphatically. “Of course we are. We will be the greatest of friends forever.”

Joselyn’s smile grew. “I hope so,” she said sincerely. She watched Toby as the woman winked at her and returned to her parchment. “Would you tell me how you and your husband met?” she asked as she returned to her sewing.

Toby paused, looking at Joselyn with twinkling eyes. “Good Heavens,” she exclaimed softly. “Where to begin? Tate came to my father’s town seeking donations for young Edward, not yet the king at that time. Tate was Edward’s protector, uncle, father all rolled into one. Stephen and Kenneth were the king’s bodyguards. I met all three of them at the same time.”

Joselyn forgot about the ugly needlework before her, much more interested in Lady de Lara’s story.

“Was it love at first sight?” she asked.

Toby looked at her as if she were mad. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “Tate and I had a very rough start. He did not like a woman who spoke her mind. But he warmed to me, eventually.”

Joselyn thought back to when she and Stephen had first met. “Odd you should say that you and Tate had a rough start,” she said faintly, thinking back to that turbulent day. “Stephen and I had no less a rough beginning. We were forced to wed on the eve of surrender, neither one of us wanting to wed the other, and during the ceremony my mother went mad and threw herself into the hearth. Stephen took me from the hall before I could watch her burn to death.”

Toby’s eyes opened wide with horror, with sorrow. “Oh, Jo-Jo,” she murmured. “I am so sorry to hear that. Truly.”

Joselyn shook her head, thinking it odd that the memory didn’t pain her like it once did. “It was terrible, that is true,” she replied. “But in a strange way, it was also how I came to discover what kind of man I had married. Stephen built a coffin for my mother and prayed over her for hours from what I was told. And he did this without even knowing me. He did it because it needed to be done.”

Toby watched the way Joselyn’s face softened when she spoke of Stephen. Knowing the man as she had for years, she was thrilled beyond measure to see such adoration in the woman’s eyes.

“Stephen is a wonderful man,” she agreed softly. “So is Kenneth. You and I are extremely fortunate to be admitted into their exclusive club. Surely no finer men walk the earth.”

Joselyn smiled, thinking on her enormous and handsome husband. “I have offered to find Sir Kenneth a wife,” she said. “He does not seem too keen on the idea.”

Toby laughed. “He will be when he meets the right woman. Stephen was never too keen on the idea, either, but that has changed.”

“Only because he was forced to marry me.”

“Then perhaps we need to force Kenneth into marriage.”

Joselyn pretended to agree. “What enemy daughter can we saddle him with?”

Toby laughed heartily, returning to her parchment and still snorting. Knowing Kenneth as she did, it was a humorous suggestion indeed.

Joselyn pushed aside thoughts of Stephen before they dampened her mood, returning to her own project to keep her mind occupied. As they resumed focus on their individual tasks, the soldiers on the walls began taking up a cry. From where they sat in the solar, both women could hear it and Joselyn looked at Toby with both fear and curiosity. Toby cocked an ear, listening.