The Lady and the Falconer (7 page)

She opened the wooden door and entered the gatehouse. Two soldiers were stationed near the doorway, both straightening at her entrance. They glanced at each other, and Solace saw the confusion in their gazes.

One of the men stepped forward, shifting his stance uneasily. “M’lady, did you come here alone?”

“Yes,” Solace answered, a little baffled by the question. She had traveled to the gatehouse many times alone. And not once had any of the men questioned her.

“Is there something we can help you with, m’lady?” the other guard wondered.

“I’m going to speak with Hagen,” she replied, turning to head up the spiraling stone staircase leading to the upper floor of the gatehouse. But then she halted, facing the men. “Is there something wrong?” she wondered.

The first guard ran a hand through his thick sandy brown hair. “Well, no. It’s just that...” He cast the other guard a glance for help before continuing, “...with the Baron just outside the castle... well, maybe you shouldn’t be walking around alone.”

“He’s outside,” Solace explained, “not inside the castle.”

The blond-haired guard bobbed his head. “Yes, m’lady.”

Solace turned away from them, moving up the staircase to the second floor. She scowled. Were they truly worried for her safety? Or was it something else? She couldn’t help but wonder at their strange behavior. She was safe in her own castle!

Solace entered the second-floor room, nodding to the two guards who stood near the door. They straightened to attention as she walked toward the gate guard.

Hagen was a head taller than Solace, his mass of moppy red hair thick and uncombed. Freckles splashed his cheeks. He stood as she approached him. “M’lady,” he greeted with a bow of his head.

“Hello, Hagen,” she said. “May I have a word with you?”

He nodded his head and they moved to the far corner of the winch room. As she crossed the room, Solace glanced at the wooden post around which thick ropes were wrapped, the mechanism used to raise and lower the drawbridge under Hagen’s orders. She turned her attention back to the red-haired man next to her. Hagen had worked for her father for over ten years. He wasn’t a particularly ambitious man, and it had surprised Solace that he had taken it upon himself to open the gates for her, disobeying her stepmother’s direct order. “I’d like to thank you,” she said softly.

“Me, m’lady?” he wondered.

“For opening the gates for me,” she added.

“Oh, ‘tweren’t me, m’lady,” he said, looking down at his boots. “I mean, I woulda if the order was given. Nothin’ against you. It was just that...”

Solace’s brow knit in confusion. “You didn’t open the gate?”

“I did,” he said. “But I was forced ta, if ya take me meanin’.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I had closed the gate. Me heart was breakin’, but an order is an order. When all of a sudden, this demon came charging up the stairs. He knocked over the two at the door and charged directly inta me. Said if I didn’t open the gate he was gonna knock me teeth out.” He shrugged. “I opened the gate.”

“Who was he?”

“Don’t know, m’lady. Never saw him before.”

“What did he look like?”

“If ya don’t mind me sayin’, he looked like a bloody demon. Dark as night, except for those eyes. They seemed ta glow!”

Solace nodded slightly, a disbelieving grin twitching her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“I’m glad I could do it, open the gate that is,” Hagen added. “I’d hate ta see ya hurt.”

Solace nodded, calling forth a small smile. To whom did she owe her thanks? she wondered. And for what reason? Was it Graham? She almost laughed out loud. Go against Alissa? That was something Graham would never do.

“M’lady?”

Solace looked up at Hagen.

“Where’s yer escort?”

“Escort?” she echoed. “I don’t have one.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lady. I know it’s not me place, but do you think it’s safe ta be out alone?”

“We’re in Castle Fulton,” Solace replied, growing tired of the argument. “There is no safer place.”

Hagen glanced at the two guards at the door. “We were informed early this evenin’ that there is a murderer in the castle.”

Solace straightened. “What?” she gasped.

“We were told to keep a watch out.”

“The dungeon guard was killed, m’lady,” one of the men at the door added.

Solace’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Why wasn’t I told?” she asked.

“Lord Harper said it wasn’t necessary to worry the ladies,” Hagen explained.

Solace’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Graham Harper?” she gritted out between clenched teeth.

***

Steel gray eyes watched Baron Barclay’s army solemnly through an arrow slit in the wood hoarding scaffold. A group of men were positioned a good distance from the moat, well out of range of the castle’s archers. They continued construction on a trebuchet that when completed would hurl deadly projectiles over the castle wall.

Earlier that day, messengers from Barclay brought terms of unconditional surrender to lady Alissa. She would have been a fool to surrender on such terms. He was sure that Farindale would hunt her down and kill her if she did. Many a lord would lose his life before losing his castle. Logan knew this from experience. He had been in more sieges than he had cared to think about. Still, the pay had been good, and more important, the loyalties and favors he had gained were invaluable.

The Baron had amassed a good-sized army. The line of soldiers and tents stretched as far back as Sullivan’s Hill. Sullivan’s Hill...

His mind drifted back to another army, another time...

Castle Fulton rose up into the sky around him, its gray turrets reaching for the crimson-painted clouds like thick fingers grasping for the safety of the heavens above. On the walkways of the castle wall, soldiers scouted the land for the coming army, their hard, callused fingers nervously tracing the hilts of their sheathed swords. Archers checked their bows, plucking at the strings, and inspected their freshly cut arrows. Around them, at the top of the castle walls, hoarding scaffolds were being built in preparation to drop hot, bubbling oil on any attackers.

He watched as a piercing cry drew the attention of one of the soldiers. The armored man swiveled his head to watch a boy chase after a sheep that had strayed from the flock being herded into the castle. Five other men were having great difficulty keeping the skittish animals in line. Logan looked away from the men to the large carts of food, hay and other supplies that filled the road leading into the castle. Villagers moved with quick desperation into the protection that the large stone walls of Castle Fulton offered.

Nearby, another guard directed the incoming carts, his pointing finger darting in one direction, then another, shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard above the din. A small calico cat leapt off of one of these carts and raced through the outer ward, darting between the legs of Logan’s horse. The gray-speckled horse whinnied and reared slightly, but he steadied him with a firm hand. He was a young boy of thirteen. His black hair lifted in a breeze that swirled in over the walls and slowly resettled onto his broad shoulders. He turned his gray eyes from the cat who disappeared into the inner ward to his brother who stood beside his mount.

“Don’t do it, Logan,” Peter begged, placing a trembling hand upon the horse’s neck.

A smile came easily to Logan’s lips; his gray eyes sparkled like the edge of a freshly drawn blade in the setting sun.

“It’s too big a risk,” his brother insisted, his brown eyes filled with worry. “You‘re being foolish.”

“Afraid, Pete?” Logan mocked with a cynical twist to his charming smile.

Peter straightened his shoulders, but refused to give in to the goading. “You know what Father will say if he finds out.”

Logan shrugged, his black hair waving defiantly in the breeze as he cast his gaze toward the open gate and the steady stream of villagers entering. “Then he won’t find out.” He turned back to his brother. “Will he?” Peter turned away from Logan’s hard stare. “Don’t worry, Pete. I just want a look. I’ll be back before the sun sets.” He turned his steed and headed out through the outer ward gates and down the road into town.

“Be careful!” Peter called after him.

But Logan barely heard. His mind was already on the sight that would greet him. An army! In full plate mail! Riding huge war horses! He had never seen an army. How many knights were there? he wondered. How many foot soldiers? He had accompanied his father to many
tournaments, but that was nothing compared to an army! He had to see them, just a peek over Sullivan’s Hill. Then, he would return home...

But he never made I back.

Quickly, Logan pushed the bitter memories out of his mind. Instead, he concentrated on Farindale’s downfall. It wouldn’t be long now. He just needed to find his brother.

And to do that he must find her. Solace. But how was he, a common falconer, going to impress the lady enough to get her to tell him where his brother was? Perhaps the best approach was the direct one.
‘Hello, m’lady. You don’t know me, but I’m looking for my brother. Yes, we’d like to kill your father, but pay that no mind.’

He groaned softly. How could he ask her when she was the daughter of his enemy? Perhaps he could say Peter was a friend. But what if he was locked in the stocks? How would it look for him to be searching for a man who was Farindale’s enemy?

Perhaps he should just keep his mouth closed and his eyes and ears open. But where had that gotten him? He could be here for years.

The thought of soft hands and full lips rose in his mind. He cursed silently. The wretched beauty’s image had plagued him the entire day. Her stubborn stance against her mother was admirable. And when the woman had struck Solace, a peculiar feeling of protectiveness had surged inside him. Logan had even found himself stepping forward.

And now, late at night, instead of trying to formulate a plan to find his brother, he was thinking of her large green eyes and wondering what her full lips tasted like.

Why did it have to be Farindale’s daughter that he thought of? Why couldn’t it be some wench who would sate his lusting so he could get on with his mission? Why couldn’t it be her sister? She seemed willing enough, rubbing herself along the length of him, making it quite apparent she was more than interested in him. But he was not in the least attracted to her. He had seen her kind before, nobility with no honor, no loyalties. He found himself sneering at the thought of Beth. She was, indeed, beautiful. But her blue eyes held no warmth, no compassion, no sincerity. He could take her and enjoy it as much as taking a warthog.

Suddenly, the falcon on his shoulder shifted its weight slightly, and he could feel its claws press into the leather patch he had sewn onto his tunic. Logan glanced at it for a moment. Its brown eyes were wide and alert.

Logan glanced out of the slit in the scaffold, wondering what had caught the bird’s attention. Barclay’s soldiers continued their work on their siege machines. Logan took a step to the other side of the hoarding to peer over the crenel of the castle wall. His eyes scanned the courtyard below. Torches hung near the outer gatehouse, throwing patches of light into the deserted ward.

It wasn’t until she stepped into a pool of light that Logan saw her exiting the gatehouse. He scowled. Now what would a lady be doing out this late at night? And why would she be in the gatehouse? What was Solace up to?

***

The next morning, Logan sat alone at the end of a table in the Great Hall, as always. The peasants never sat near him and his bird, leaving him in peace. Which was fine with Logan. Fewer people to have to be cautious of. A serving girl reached around him to refill his mug, then moved on down the table. He dipped a sop into his trencher and chewed on the porridge-soaked piece of bread. The falcon eyed the food with interest and Logan tossed him a small chunk of meat.

The falcon lifted its head, and Logan followed its gaze to see Solace marching up the aisle between the rows of tables that filled the Great Hall. He straightened on the bench as he noticed her tiny fists were clenched, her jaw tight, her eyes narrowed with anger. A grin twitched his lips and his eyes twinkled with amusement as he wondered who was going to be on the receiving end of her wrath. As she marched toward the head table, servants stepped out of the path of the approaching fury and hounds slunk under tables for cover.

She stopped just short of the head table, facing her stepmother, Beth and Graham. The conversation in the room gradually trailed off as everyone in the room waited to hear her flare of temper. Logan leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word. The falcon on his shoulder shifted position, it, too, looking toward the head table.