Montague - The Warlord Part 6

The gates shut behind her and she started uncertainly down the dark ramp, the treacherous walk lit only by faint moonlight. It appeared steeper than the one at Remmington, though she'd never actually set foot on the thing. The gatekeeper called to her over the wall, as if he read her mind.

"Watch yer step. One tumble and ye'll break yer neck."

"Thank you for the warning," she mumbled.

Tess picked her way down the steep ramp, tempted to kiss the ground when she finally reached the bottom. She hurried down the castle lane, pausing a moment where the lane met the king's road. She quickly took the direction opposite the one they'd ridden in from Kelso Abbey, and at the edge of the forest she turned around for a last look at the forbidding castle. She still couldn't believe she'd escaped so easily. She didn't feel very satisfied over the accomplishment. If the truth were known, she would almost face being returned to the MacLeiths someday if she could stay in Kenric's beautiful room until she felt better. Every bone in her body ached.

Tess turned and walked away from the castle before self-pity could interfere with her plan. Walk until dawn, she told herself, then find a hiding place to rest during the day. That plan seemed reasonable. Staying warm while she slept would be a challenge, but she could face that problem later. Her immediate concern was getting as far away from Kenric as possible, before he discovered she was missing. She'd escaped once from Langston Keep, so why couldn't she escape again? Of course she lacked a horse and a knight's protection, but as long as the impossible odds were ignored, that bit of logic made some sense.

The sun was well over the horizon when John shuffled toward the kitchens to take his morning meal. He noticed the baron's men running in all directions on his way from the postern and learned the reason for the commotion from a pa.s.sing soldier.

"The new baroness has disappeared," the soldier told him, shaking his head in disbelief. "You didn't see anything on your watch?"

"Nay," John replied, perplexed by the news. "Cook's wife was the only female at the postern gate last eve." John scratched his beard. "At least... Nay, I'm sure 'twas Cook's wife. The master's lady is a pretty thing, I'm told. Small and dainty, ain't that the way of it?"

"Aye. The baron is half crazed thinking someone s.n.a.t.c.hed her. As if any would dare risk that one's wrath."

" 'Tis unlikely," John agreed. The soldier hurried away to search the b.u.t.tery, leaving John deep in thought.

"Nay, it could not be," John told himself, grinning at his foolishness. Still, it wouldn't hurt to double-check. Cook would probably think him strange indeed, but he'd rest easier once he knew for sure.

The kitchen was in as much chaos as the rest of the castle, the servants busy searching every barrel and store for the new mistress. John thought it laughable, the tiny crevices being searched for a grown woman. 'Twas unlikely any lady could fit in the small turnip barrels, yet their lids lay scattered about the room. He finally located Cook near the flour bins, but the gatekeeper's face turned as pasty as the flour when he spied the big woman standing nearby.

"Where did you go last eve?" John grabbed the woman's arm and spun her around.

"Nowhere," Cook's wife gasped, stunned by the sudden attack.

"What goes here?" Cook bellowed. He jerked John's hand from his wife's arm. "What..." He steadied the pale gatekeeper by the shoulders. "Are you aright? Ye're the color of wax, man."

"Your wife did not leave the castle last eve?" John whispered hopefully. Cook shook his head. "Is there another of her size in the castle?"

"Me wife's one of a kind. A man in my position can afford a well-fed woman. She's-"

"Oh, G.o.d," John wailed. "I am a dead man."

"What are you talking about? Why-"

"The b-baron," John stuttered. "Where is the baron?"

"The stables, last I heard."

The gatekeeper disappeared through the kitchen door faster than he had ever moved before.

John searched frantically for his overlord, and finally spotted him near the gate to the outer bailey. He rushed forward, but the soldiers surrounding their baron acted instinctively to protect the warlord from this unknown threat. John soon found himself facedown in the dirt with three swords at his neck.

"The mistress," John croaked. "I must tell the baron-"

He was suddenly hauled up by the collar, his feet dangling in the air.

"Where is she?" Kenric roared.

"I swore it was Cook's wife," John blurted out, inspired to new terror by the look on Baron Montague's face. "Huge as a horse, she was-"

"Answer!"

John tried twice before he could get the words past the baron's new hold on his throat. "Family," he gasped. "Said she was going back-"

Kenric tossed the man aside like an old rag, already turning toward the stables. Fury hastened his steps, for his worst fears were confirmed. Tess was outside the walls. The chit could be frozen already, or the meal of any number of dangerous creatures who lurked in the woods. A woman alone would not last a day in the frigid wilderness, especially a woman weakened by a fever. If he found her alive, she would wish for death before he was done with her.

Less than a quarter hour later, Kenric's warhorse thundered through the gates with fifty others, their riders hastily armed yet ready to face any danger. The group stayed on the main road until they entered the forest, then Kenric began dispatching men every quarter mile to search the woods. A half hour later they drew to a halt.

"She is on foot," Kenric told Fitz Alan, though he spoke more to himself than to his friend. "She could not have journeyed this far."

" 'Tis unlikely," Fitz Alan agreed.

"Tess knew that Ian Duncan could not give her sanctuary. And she had no wish to return to the MacLeiths." Kenric frowned, realizing his thinking was clear for the first time since discovering Tess had left the castle. He cursed himself again for sleeping in the hall last night, for thinking he could face his wife's injuries with a calmer head in the morning.

"Where else would she go?" Fitz Alan asked. "A convent?"

"The king." Kenric wheeled his horse around, his expression grim. "There is nowhere else for her to turn. She's taken the road to London."

The men backtracked to the castle, then began searching to the south. The lane was frozen solid, rutted and packed down by carts and horses, which made tracking nearly impossible. They kept their eyes to the sides of the road instead, searching for any unusual tracks in the light cover of snow.

"There!" Kenric pointed to a break in the frozen brush to one side of the road. Following the small set of footprints into the forest, they eventually came to a small clearing bordered on three sides by steep hills and littered with enormous boulders. Kenric scanned the open field, then nudged his horse forward to follow the tracks to a rocky outcropping flanked by two boulders.

"Stay where you are," a small voice called out. Tess slipped from her hiding place behind one of the huge rocks to face her husband. The arrow aimed at Kenric's chest added enough weight to her command that his men heeded the order and pulled their mounts to a halt. Kenric ignored the threat and continued to advance.

Tess looked close to frozen. Her face was the color of wax, her lips nearly as blue as her gla.s.sy eyes. The dark smudges of exhaustion surrounding her eyes gave his bride a hollow, haunted look. As near as Kenric could tell, she could collapse at any moment.

"Stop, I say!"

There was a frantic note in her voice, but Kenric just shook his head and allowed his horse to move steadily forward.

"I'll put an arrow in you. I swear I will."

Tess sounded nearly hysterical, but Kenric's voice was determined.

"I will still take you back."

"I won't go back to MacLeith," Tess shouted. That announcement finally made Kenric pull in his mount.

"I would rather die by your hand or your man's," she vowed, nodding toward Fitz Alan. Kenric stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. She drew the bowstring tighter. "I mean what I say."

"What are you talking about, you little fool? I am taking you home with me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Kenric's horse skitted nervously and he took a moment to calm the animal. He resisted the urge to gallop forward and claim his errant wife. Her bow was pulled tauter than he'd believed her capable. If she had any skill at all with the thing, her arrow would slice through his chest if she decided to skewer him. How was he to know that retrieving a wife would require full armor?

"Stop this nonsense, Tess." He tried to keep the anger from his voice. The arrow aimed at his chest did call for some diplomacy. But he couldn't help adding, "You will come home with me this instant!"

"You rejected me," Tess accused, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "You do not want me for wife. You even brought your men to see my flaw so they can justify your claim when you pet.i.tion for an annulment. I will not live a fortnight beyond my return to Remmington. The MacLeiths are not known for their forgiving nature. If I am lucky, I will not live a day. How can you send me back, knowing my fate?"

"Only yesterday I promised you would never return to Dunmore MacLeith," he reminded her, allowing Tess to see some of his anger. Did she really think him such a monster? "I did not reject you. My men will only testify to the king that my reasons for killing Gordon MacLeith are justified."

Tess didn't respond to that enlightening statement, but her eyes grew wider and her bow arm began to tremble noticeably.

"If you do not lower that bow soon, you will shoot me by accident." Kenric's horse pawed the ground and snorted, as if echoing the impatience of his master. Tess still hesitated. "A flesh wound will not improve my mood, wife."

"You... you would not trick me?" she asked, even as she slowly dropped her weapon.

Kenric spurred his horse forward. He leaped off the warhorse and grabbed his wife in one motion, his grip on her shoulders painful.

"You are never to run from me again," he shouted, so loud that Tess winced. "Is that clear enough for you?"

"Aye, husband," she said quietly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to whisper in his ear. Kenric was so surprised by the unexpected action that he let her. " 'Tis a fact I have never swooned, but there is the oddest... ringing in my ears and..."

Her voice faded and she went limp. Kenric shook his head and lifted her into his arms.

"Sick with fever and you think to journey alone to London," he muttered. "You are incredibly bold or incredibly ignorant. I do not think I have decided just yet."

"Have someone gather her things," he told Fitz Alan, nodding to the bundles still lying on the ground. "I am curious to see what other surprises she's packed."

Kenric mounted with little difficulty, s.h.i.+fting his limp burden to one shoulder as he gained the saddle.

"The mistake is understandable," Fitz Alan said.

"The mistake was idiotic," Kenric snapped. "She should have known I wouldn't send her back to those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"They've had five years to terrorize her," Fitz Alan said cautiously. " 'Tis doubtful she will forget that fear overnight."

Kenric didn't give any indication that he'd heard the words, but he took them to heart. He felt Tess stir in his arms and he pulled aside the cloak. Her eyes were still gla.s.sy, her face deathly pale. They stared at each other, each trying to read the other's thoughts. Tess finally broke the silence.

"Have you decided my punishment?" Her voice was flat, without emotion.

"Nay," Kenric replied. Tess looked as if she'd been through quite enough at the moment. An hour ago, he would have cheerfully beaten her. But now? Now he wasn't so sure. "What punishments have you received in the past for disobedience?"

"A week locked in my room," she said, her voice pitifully weak. "On a diet of bread and water. Sometimes a week to work in the kitchens, or the stables, or in the fields, or-"

"I understand," Kenric drawled. His mouth quirked downward at the edges. "These are the punishments you usually received from the MacLeiths?"

First she nodded, then she shook her head. "Mostly the whip."

She closed her eyes, simply too tired to keep them open any longer. Tess felt a little guilty about relating such trivial punishments. She wouldn't mind any one of them. Given the way she was feeling, a week in her room... Nay, in Kenric's room... That sounded like heaven.

6.

The next time Tess awoke she was surrounded by billowing golden clouds that floated in the deepest, truest blue sky she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Beautiful," she breathed in awe. " 'Tis just as I imagined."

"What is?" a deep voice asked.

She raised her arms, trying to embrace the lovely clouds. "Heaven!"

Something cold and wet was slapped over her eyes, blinding her to the beautiful scene. She frowned and cried out "No!" as strong hands pushed her down, down, down, into a deep, black hole. She clutched at the air, trying to slow the fall, but she landed painlessly on something soft. Her eyes opened slowly to the blackness of the pit surrounding her. One by one flames flickered and rose up around her in a complete circle, so high and hot that she was certain her skin was on fire. Her body seemed made of stone, unable to rouse enough strength to attempt an escape from the inferno.

The faces of fiery demons took shape in the flames, demons exactly like the ones painted in the doomsday scenes in Kelso Abbey's chapel. With horned heads, bulbous eyes, and razor-sharp teeth, the creatures held Tess's full, horrified attention. The head of one monster curled away from the fire to loom over her, laughing down at her helplessness while his breath blasted her face with molten heat. Tess squeezed her eyes shut and screamed in mindless terror.

A pair of strong arms suddenly reached down and s.n.a.t.c.hed her up and out of the pit. She feared the demon had her until she found enough courage to open her eyes, amazed to find herself in Kenric's arms.

Now where had he come from?

"Don't let me fall," she pleaded. She clutched at Kenric's arms and looked past his shoulder into the fiery pit looming below them, shuddering over the flames licking at the heels of Kenric's boots. "It was awful down there."

"I have you."

He kept talking, but his words seemed to blur and run together until they became a low hum, drifting to nothingness. s.n.a.t.c.hes of murmured conversations sometimes penetrated the edge of the silence, but the sounds evaporated again before they could leave a lasting impression. Time became as distant as reality. No past, no present, just the swirling colors of an unknown dream that lacked shape or substance. The void didn't fade away until the humming sound began again, growing louder and louder until Tess was forced to leave the empty dream. The hum became a voice, a bit familiar, yet she couldn't put a face to the sound as it droned on and on. Was that Latin he was speaking?

"A priest," she whispered, thinking she recognized his forlorn chant. A priest had been sent for, which meant someone was dying. She tried to open her eyes but couldn't accomplish the simple task. It took a moment to make the connection, to realize that she was the one dying! She began to cry, but stopped when she heard Kenric's voice bellow through the haze, his words perfectly clear.

"I'll not send for a priest!"

"But you must honor her request," someone answered. "She is dying."

"Tess is not dying. I will not allow it!"

Tess closed her eyes and let herself float away into the fog again, greatly relieved to know she wouldn't die. Aye, that was certainly a nice worry to set aside. Kenric would keep her safe. He would protect her. With her thoughts on Kenric, another strange dream began to take shape in her mind. She saw Kenric not as a grown man, but as a lad of no more than fifteen summers. He stood among a group of boys about the same age, yet he towered above them, his body already developing into the powerful warrior he would become. Standing in the center of the group, he faced a pock-faced boy with mousy brown hair. The two were arguing fiercely, and Tess strained to hear their words.

"You are a b.a.s.t.a.r.d," the boy sneered. "Your mother was nothing more than a wh.o.r.e who spread her legs for the king."

Kenric's fists were balled at his side, rage hardening the lines of his face, yet he made no move toward the taunting boy. The strain of his anger could be heard in the crack of lingering youth in his voice.

"You will take back those words and declare yourself a foul liar," Kenric demanded loudly. "Or I will kill you, Royce of Northton."

"Oh, ho," Royce laughed, his lip curling in disgust. "So the king's b.a.s.t.a.r.d would kill a man for speaking the truth. Well, I have news for you, Kenric of the King's Wh.o.r.e. You could not do it." Royce turned confidently to his companions, looking for support. "Have you never wondered why seasoned warriors fall so easily against him in tourney? I trow the king's gold eases their falls, making his b.a.s.t.a.r.d look the better man."

"For G.o.d's sake, Royce," a boy called from the crowd. "You talk treason. Do not-"

"Shut up." Royce's eyes narrowed on Kenric. "I have waited a long time to see this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's blood soak my blade. He mocks us with every tournament he wins, making us look like foolish boys. Explain how we can beat him in practice when seasoned knights fall to him like old women in tourney?"