Sword for His Lady (25 page)

The stone of the floor was hard against his knees but he folded his hands and concentrated.

A hard hand closed over his mouth.

“You'd better be praying for word that the lady has lost her child.” Donald tried to fight but Jacques was far stronger. The man must be a demon to be so strong. Donald flailed against him but to no avail. “When did you give her the concoction?”

Donald gasped when the baron lifted his hand from his mouth, but he felt the cold touch of steel against his throat.

“Keep your voice low, boy, or I'll slice you from ear to ear.”

Donald swallowed. “Aye.”

Jacques frowned. “Aye…what?”

Donald shook his head, refusing to utter “my lord.”

“You dismissed me.”

Jacques growled, his eyes becoming slits as his expression turned vicious. “You have nothing without me. Everything here will be mine.”

He patted the boy's tunic down, growling when he found the bulge beneath it. He reached inside the tattered collar and yanked the pouch free.

“You will regret failing me.”

Jacques lifted the dagger high but turned it and cracked the handle against Donald's temple. The boy went limp. Jacques lifted him and tossed him into the bunk. The impulse to kill him was strong, but it would be too simple a death. Once he was lord of Thistle Keep, he'd stake the boy out in the yard and watch him freeze to death as a warning to anyone thinking about disobeying him. He looked both ways before leaving the storeroom and walked toward the kitchens. He pulled his hood down low and stooped as he moved. He shuffled his feet when passing others and didn't much care if he was being deceitful. Claiming the prize was what mattered.

It was time to make his father proud.

* * *

The first snow fell just as supper was ending.

The children laughed and went outside to play in it. Isabel stood on the steps of the new keep, watching the moonlight turn everything into a silver landscape. The flakes came down in feathers that floated back and forth on their way to the ground.

“And the season changes.” Ramon stood at her side.

“Do you miss your place at the king's side?”

“Not one bloody bit,” Ramon growled. “Canvas tent walls fail to cut the winter wind.” He looked up at the new keep. “I am going to enjoy what we have built together.”

“Your men built the keep, my lord.”

He reached out and grasped her hand. “Yet you will fill it with life.”

She smiled. “I am not the only one.”

At the tables there were couples now. Ramon's men sitting beside women. The priests had turned a blind eye to it, for everyone knew most of the men who had marched off on the Crusade would never return. It was imperfect as far as Heaven went, but it felt very right. They had to make a life out of what they had.

The wind whipped and they hurried back inside where it was warm. A few candles were lit, offering a cheery welcome as they consumed the last of their supper. Isabel's drinking bowl was full again. She reached for it, not because she was thirsty, but because she couldn't bear to waste the beer. Tonight the snow was welcome, but soon the long months of winter would become a burden as everyone waited for spring and a new harvest. Everything would be measured and their stores stretched to last until new crops were grown. Everyone would be a bit thinner by then.

She drank down the brew, wrinkling her nose because it tasted somewhat bitter. Carrying a babe was twisting her senses. The scent of roasting meat made her run for the privy to retch, while she craved milk like a child. She finished off the rest of the beer and ignored the way her belly felt unsettled. Her babe needed nourishment.

* * *

Donald had something important to do.

He rolled over and tried to open his eyes, but it felt impossible. His head ached, making consciousness unappealing.

Still, something needled him.

Something important.

Jacques Raeburn's face surfaced in his foggy brain. The glow of evil intent pulled Donald from slumber. He flopped onto the floor as he grabbed his head. Agony threatened to keep him from his feet but he stumbled to the wall and used it to stay upright.

He had to warn…warn the lady.

* * *

“Christ's mercy,” the cook exclaimed. “What happened to you, lad?”

Donald stumbled into the kitchen, causing a stir as the maids who were settling down for the night saw the blood running down the side of his face.

“Come here and let me tend that for you.”

“The lord…the lord is here.”

The women clustered around him, urging him toward a stool.

“Nay. The lord is in the new keep.”

The cook pressed a wet cloth against his temple. Pain shot through him, threatening to steal away his consciousness.

“Lord Raeburn is here.”

The cook lifted her hand from his head. “What did you say, boy?”

Donald stood up but his knees were weak. “Baron Raeburn was here…” He patted his tunic and felt a wave of horror go through him. “He plans to poison the lady. To make her lose her babe. I must warn Lord de Segrave.”

Someone rang the bells in the church.

Isabel rolled over but it was still dark. She bit her lip because she ached. A deep ache that curled her up into a ball.

She heard a pounding on the chamber door a second before someone shoved it in. “Ramon!”

Ambrose didn't stay behind the wall separating the bedchamber from the receiving chamber. Ramon was on his feet, his sword in hand before he realized who was in the chamber.

“Raeburn was in Thistle Keep.”

Isabel blinked; her thoughts were moving slowly.

“I'll run him through if I find him,” Ramon announced.

“Stay here,” Ambrose insisted. “It is your lady he wanted to poison.”

Ramon looked toward her. “Isabel?”

She tried to answer but her mouth was dry and all she ended up doing was moving her lips.

Mildred walked into the room, as Ramon lifted Isabel up from the bed.

“Drink this now…we have to purge you,” Mildred said firmly.

Mildred's concoction was foul but it soothed her throat. Ramon held Isabel up, cupping her neck with one hand to keep her in place.

“There now,” Mildred soothed.

Isabel gasped as her belly clenched violently. She flopped over and vomited.

Isabel had no idea how long it lasted, only that she had never hurt so much in her life. Every muscle felt strained and sore and even her insides burned. Ramon cradled her, smoothing her hair back from her face. She succeeded in locking gazes with him, but there was no peace there. Only a burning rage that nearly scorched her.

“The babe might yet be lost,” Mildred said.

Isabel looked at Mildred, horrified. Her nurse had tears glistening in her eyes. “The boy says that devil Raeburn has himself a woman of the east with him. Says she brewed up a poison to make you lose the child.”

Tears fell down Mildred's cheeks. Isabel wanted to cry but there was no moisture in her body.

“I am going to kill that bastard,” Ramon swore. “To hell with the law and the barons' council.”

“But…you…cannot…risk your position…”

“For myself, I would not. But for you, I will choke the life from him with my bare hands.” His teeth were bared, his eyes bright with the need for vengeance. “I love you.”

Ramon stroked her face and she grabbed his hand, pressing it tightly against her cheek.

“The barons…might demand your life if you kill a baron. Do…
not
,” Isabel beseeched him.

He leaned down and kissed the back of her hand. “That is the only thing I cannot grant you, my love. I will not allow him to harm you.”

He pulled away from her and it felt as if he were being ripped from her. He gripped his sword and began calling for his men before he left the outer chamber. Isabel curled into a ball, willing her womb to cradle her child. She would not lose it.

She would not.

* * *

He wanted blood.

The fever burned brightly as Ramon led his men through the night. Jacques had moved his men a few times, but the land was scarred where their camps had been. The newly fallen snow made it simple to follow the tracks to where he nested now.

Jacques was just making it back to his men when Ramon found him.

“Raeburn!” he snarled, taking in the woodsman hood and common clothing. “I am not surprised to see you using trickery to gain your way.”

Jacques's men jumped from their beds, running to support their lord. Ramon pointed his sword at him. “I will have satisfaction.”

Jacques laughed and threw his arms out wide. “If you strike me down, the barons' council will have your head for it, as I am unarmed!”

“I have your squire to swear that you poisoned my wife,” Ramon declared. “Dishonorable action deserving of a dishonorable death.”

“The word of a whore's whelp?” Jacques spat on the ground. “My captains will speak the truth. That you cut me down while I had no sword. Which testimony do you think will carry more weight?”

“He is right.” Ambrose grabbed his shoulder and held him back. “As much as I wish it were otherwise.”

“Get your sword, Raeburn!” Ramon ordered. “Face me.”

Jacques shook his head. “I think not. In fact, I plan to live long enough to hear that your heir has slipped from his mother's womb.”

Ambrose growled. “You have no honor.”

“None,” Jacques answered easily, gaining several snorts of amusement from his men. “I prefer profit, as do my men. I have always been better at planning, which is why my men follow me. That is why they will swear you cut me down in my own camp. Kill me and you'll end up hanged in the spring by the barons' council.”

Ramon felt his bloodlust rising further, but he had to think. Rash actions often led to mistakes, and mistakes cost lives. His own master had taught him that as a young squire. Time and time again he'd witnessed the truth of it on the battlefield. Today, he struggled for the discipline to keep his head. Because he had far more to lose than ever before.

“I challenge you, Baron Raeburn. On the field.”

“Why would I meet you?”

“Men do not follow cowards. For a coward will sacrifice his men when there is enough profit in it,” Ramon declared in a clear voice that carried through the morning air. “Fail to meet me tomorrow and you are a coward. Every man behind you will know it and know that you might sell them out.”

Jacques was still arrogant and sure of himself, but the men behind him lost their smiles. They stiffened as they cut looks between themselves.

Ramon looked up at the men behind Jacques. “And I will cut every man in this camp down while they sleep. Such is the death deserved by those who follow a coward and poisoner of women. Meet me or ride away. But be assured that I will find you if you stay too near.”

* * *

“Fool!” Jacques yelled as Ramon turned his stallion and rode away. “I will enjoy fucking your woman when my next arrow puts you in your grave!”

He certainly wouldn't be meeting anyone on the field of valor. Such was for fools who wasted their days devoting themselves to chivalry. He had profit to gain.

When he turned around to face his men, they were silent, looking at him with hard glares that even he couldn't shake off. By the time he arrived at his tent, he realized there wouldn't be an easy way to dismiss Ramon's challenge. Jacques sat in his chair and refused to be bothered. He snapped his fingers and Rauxana brought him his drinking bowl.

No, he would not be answering Ramon de Segrave's challenge.

His captains arrived within an hour to question him.

“The men want to know—”

“If I will meet Segrave at the tiltyard?” Jacques sneered at them from his chair. “Why should I? There is no profit in it.”

“Then are we to leave?” the second captain asked. “If we stay here, the snow will make it simple for him to find our camp.”

“My father has charged me with wedding Isabel of Camoys.” Jacques stood up. “I will not be the first son to lose land.”

“Then meet Segrave on the field,” his captain said flatly. “Kill him on the field and the widow will be yours to claim.”

“You do not tell me how to act.”

His captain narrowed his eyes. “I'll not follow a coward or wait to be slaughtered in my sleep. You poisoned the man's wife. His challenge is just. So too will be his retribution on us if you don't face him.”

Jacques felt the first stirrings of uncertainty. “Have you forgotten how much gold I have placed in your hand?”

“I risked my life for that gold,” his captain answered clearly. “And a dead man has little use for coin.”

There wasn't a hint of fear in the man, which was why Jacques had chosen him. Now, the same qualities he'd seen as beneficial were becoming a noose.

“Tomorrow,” Jacques snapped, “I'll kill Segrave on the field and hang you by nightfall for this disloyalty.”

The two captains didn't look away. Jacques felt a chill on his neck that he hadn't experienced since the last time he saw his father. Both men left the tent as Jacques sat back down.

So be it.

He lifted his drinking bowl and drained it.

Segrave was a hulk of a man, which made him slow.

It would be a pleasure to kill him on the field where his men would see who was the stronger baron to follow. By tomorrow night, he'd be sleeping in a keep.

With Ramon de Segrave's head by his bed.

That thought gave him pleasure. For if Rauxana's potion had failed to do its work, looking at her husband's severed head certainly would.

* * *

“He could ride for London,” Ambrose said.

Ramon nodded at Ambrose. “Let him.”

Ambrose gave him a menacing look. “I would rather take some men and wait on the side of the road for the maggot.”

Ramon stopped on his way across the yard. “Nay.” He looked around the yard, with all its openings and outer buildings. “All are needed here. It is time to secure this keep until walls can be built. We must think of those looking to us to safeguard them.”

Ambrose surveyed the two keeps and the people moving around the yard. The sun was up and the snow still fell. The keeps would now be the center of everyone's lives. If the food was poisoned, they would all die.

“Aye,” he agreed. “I'll see to posting sentries.”

Ramon should have been more pleased by Ambrose's words. But all he could think about was the fact that he might have acted too late. He looked up at the new keep. It was impressive, a true marvel, but it would be nothing if Isabel was lost to him.

Nothing.

* * *

Ramon rose with the dawn and went to the church. Isabel wanted to go with him but her body refused. When she woke again, it was to the sound of Thomas bringing in her husband's armor. The harsh sound of metal clanking against metal threatened to drive her insane.

“Do not ask me not to go.” Ramon gave her a firm look.

“Be mindful of…” Isabel tried to sound strong, but her voice was only a husky shell. Her throat was still raw. She struggled to conceal it, to show her husband only a happy expression.

The sides of her lips felt like they were cracking.

“Save your breath, Isabel.” He tempered his tone, and that was worse than hearing him press his will upon her.

“I am strong,” she protested. “The king…the king might demand your head if you ride against another baron.”

“Richard would not. I have a confession.”

“From a boy, who never had a choice in who he served.”

Ramon sat on the edge of their bed and covered her lips with his hand. There was a hard certainty in his eyes. A glimpse of the man she'd first faced when he'd ridden up to her keep.

“He had a choice.” There was a firm note in his tone that she knew she could never argue with. “He might have come to me. Each man must accept when his honor is more important than those he serves. Just as every man must answer at the day of judgment for his lies. The boy made his choice and will answer for it. I will let him live a day longer than his master, but no more.”

He pressed a kiss against her cheek and stood up. His squire was ready with the padded under tunic that went beneath his mail. There was grim focus in his motions, a determination that she felt radiating from him.

“Jacques has no honor,” she said.

Ramon flexed his fingers as his squire slid a gauntlet into place. “Which is why I must ride against him. Only a baron has the right.”

“I cannot bear to lose you.”

Ramon waved his squire away. “I will join you in the yard.”

The squire and his assistant gathered up the remaining pieces of armor and headed out of the chamber with them. Ramon came close again, sitting beside her and reaching out to smooth his fingers across her cheek.

“As I cannot bear to lose you. As long as Jacques draws breath, you remain his target. I could never be worthy of you if I did not face this threat. Pray for me, tell me you understand, but do not ask me to be a coward. You could never love a coward.”

And
he
wanted
to
be
worthy
of
her
love…

It was there in his eyes. A need as great as her own. Her breath was frozen for a long moment as she found her secret yearning fulfilled.

“No, you are not a coward, nor could you ever be.” She blinked away the tears stinging her eyes. “I am proud to be your wife. I want to continue being your wife more than anything else. You let him be after he wounded you, so let him be now. Let us live in peace.”

His eyes brightened, his expression softening for a moment. He stroked her cheek.

“An attack against myself, I could ignore.” His expression hardened. “Against you? I will fight to the death. You are the keeper of my heart. I can deny you nothing except this.”

“You could die,” she argued. “And I will be here without you.”

“I cannot live knowing the man who harmed you draws breath. Forgive me for that failing.” He kissed her cheek before he left.

She was sure that her heart left with him.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Mildred was horrified, but Isabel only waved her into the chamber.

“Hurry. I must go to the tiltyard.” But her legs weren't cooperating. They quivered so badly Isabel was learning against the wall next to her wardrobe. “Help me dress, Mildred.”

“I will not,” Mildred stated firmly. “'Tis back to bed that I will be helping you with.”

“I must go,” Isabel beseeched Mildred. “I cannot lie here while he dies.”

“I do not think the baron will be the one dying,” Mildred informed her.

“You have never seen Jacques Raeburn,” Isabel whispered. “He lacks all honor. Do not deny me every moment with my lord. Besides, I never gave him my favor to carry…”

Isabel held up a long ribbon. It was green and fluttered from her hand. “I must make sure he has it.”