by Sakwa, Kim
Greylen and Gavin knelt on either side of Malcolm as Duncan and Ian held his arms and legs. Their daggers still in hand from releasing Gwen, they sliced diagonally through their palms. Then they joined their hands together above Malcolm’s prone body.
This kill would be both of theirs.
Greylen reached behind his back and unsheathed his sword, placing its tip over Malcolm’s heart. Then he and Gavin covered the hilt together and raised the blade.
Greylen felt a hand upon his shoulder at the same time that Gavin looked up. Greylen turned his face, tilting his head to look up at Gwen. He intended to justify his actions. Malcolm must die, surely she realized that. The words, however, caught in his throat.
His wife stood calmly by his side. Her fingers, hesitant at first, brushed his forehead and cheeks, then pressed deeply into his skin. With that same deliberation, she rubbed her fingers across her own face, covering herself with the paint she purposely took from him. She said not a word, but her next actions made her intentions clear. His wife extended her arms, locking her elbows as she placed her torn, bloody hands before them, palms up.
Her silent demand to be a part of this kill.
Greylen and Gavin reached for their daggers. Greylen saw and felt her push against each of their blades. They cut diagonally from one end to the other, just as they had done themselves. Then they placed her hands on the hilt and covered them with their own.
They didn’t look at Malcolm as they raised the blade, only at the hands joined together in the center. Three sets of hands once joined so long ago as they stood before Father Michael. Tonight, those same hands joined again. In vengeance.
Greylen and Gavin brought the sword down with such force it embedded deep within the ground beneath Malcolm’s body. They never looked at him again.
With the greatest of care, Greylen pried his wife’s hands from the hilt of his sword. Then he cradled her broken body. He looked at none of his men as he walked with her from the courtyard. He only looked ahead. ’Twas all he could do.
He would look only ahead.
Alex and the elder MacFale were found badly beaten in the dungeons below the keep. Gavin ordered the men onward so their wounds could be tended. Greylen, however, rode back slowly. He was as silent as Gwen. Gavin, too, was silent as he followed behind them throughout the long journey.
Greylen turned toward the lake before entering the gates of Seagrave. He cradled Gwen in his arms as he walked into the water and held her in the shallows as Gavin washed the dirt and blood from her body and hair. She stared at the sky, silent.
Gavin left to fetch a clean shirt, and they carefully slipped it over her head when Greylen stepped from the water. The soaked shirt they had placed on her hours ago remained on the shore, a painful reminder that neither could touch.
The sun was just beginning to rise as they took the stairs. Greylen glanced to Gavin, who returned a look of sorrow so deep ’twas hard to speak.
“I’ll send for Lady Madelyn,” Gavin said hoarsely.
Greylen couldn’t speak, he only nodded in reply and held Gwen more closely. Gavin came back mere moments later. “No one’s about,” Gavin assured him as he held the door. Then followed again as Greylen took the stairs to his chamber.
Greylen sat on the chair in front of the fireplace and waited for his mother. She must have been close by, for she appeared just as he settled. She placed a cup to Gwen’s lips, which Gwen drank with no prodding. Gwen sat unflinching in his lap as his mother stitched the wound on her forehead. His mother began looking for other wounds, but Greylen only shook his head, silently informing her there were none to be sewn.
She left as quietly as she had arrived, brushing her hand across Gavin’s shoulder as she passed him where he stood outside the chamber doors.
Finally hearing the latch click into place, alone with his wife, Greylen gave in, his roars of agony filled with despair. He was so lost in his own sorrow that he would later find out the battle being waged beyond his chamber.
That of Gavin’s own battle as he beat his head upon the back of Greylen’s door for each bellow that escaped his commander’s lips. Of Isabelle’s pleas as she knelt by her husband’s side, begging him to stop. He would learn that it continued for so long that Isabelle finally collapsed at Gavin’s feet, jarred awake hours later when Duncan lifted her into his arms. He was told, his sister’s last memory as she was taken away was the sight of her husband standing sentinel at her brother’s door. His door now marred with Gavin’s blood.
Greylen didn’t know how long he remained on that chair with Gwen in his arms, but the defeat that swept through him that morning was something he had never experienced before. He had no idea what happened in those hours that they held her, only that she was badly beaten and so traumatized she still couldn’t speak.
He finally placed her on their bed and crawled in beside her, holding her in his arms. She slept deeply from the potion his mother had given her, but not peacefully. She trembled and cried out, caught in nightmares he’d not been able to awaken her from.
Hours later, he called for Gavin. He had to find out what happened during the time she’d been held. His mother had already given Gwen more drink to ease her pain, but ’twasn’t her body that hurt. Her mind was broken. He tried to find a spot where he could place his lips, just one tiny spot where he could give her comfort.
He finally stepped from the bed, watching in agony as Gwen curled into a ball. The move had to cause excruciating pain, yet she didn’t make a sound. His mother took his place immediately, humming softly as she brushed her fingers through his wife’s hair. He dressed quickly and left the chamber.
He went to the nursery first. Anna was busy with Isabelle and the babies, and he asked that she continue to keep Tristan. Gwen was in no condition to receive her son, and he couldn’t subject Tristan to further upset.
When he entered his study, Guy MacFale and Alex were already waiting. Looking at them now, he was sorry that he’d not come to them. They looked as bad as his wife. His men were present as well. They would all learn what happened and live with the details as they were revealed.
Greylen took a shot of brandy before turning to Guy. “Gwen’s said nothing. Were you aware of any of the actions that transpired?”
Guy closed his eyes, shaking his head as if images raced through his mind. “Malcolm and his men returned four days past. I was locked within my chamber and knew not of their plans, though I found out bits and pieces from the servants who brought my trays. They told me the men were plotting to take your wife and had been watching your patrols. They’d overheard that a race was to take place and of the long runs your wife had been taking. They were disgusted that your men boasted of her endurance and waited daily for her to seek the run that would take her far from the keep. They knew already that she had only one guard with her.”
“Did you see her when she was inside the keep?” Greylen asked.
“Aye, but ’twas hours after she arrived. Your man here was already inside by then.”
Greylen turned to Alex and waited for the rest. He was covered with short wounds, deep enough that they had all been stitched, and his right hand was covered with bandages so thick ’twas impossible to discern the damage beneath. Alex looked straight into his eyes and recounted the events as they took place.
“I rode to the doors alone. Kevin tried to stop me, but I’d been the last to see her, the last to have her guard.”
“You had not had her guard, Alex,” Greylen corrected. “The keep was your duty.”
“Aye, but had I not been relieved, I would have known sooner she was unprotected.”
“Did you tell her to seek a shadow before going the distance?” Greylen asked, repeating the same words Alex had, no doubt, been given countless times already.
“Aye.” He remained silent for a moment, then he smiled softly. “She saluted me, sir.” Alex looke
d again to Greylen. “‘Aye, aye, Captain’ were her exact words.”
They all smiled, as if they could picture their mistress doing just so. Alex went on as their smiles faded. “I gave Kevin a blow to the back of the head and rode to the doors.”
“What did you think to accomplish alone?” Greylen asked, though he knew he would have done the same.
“If I could get to her, and somehow free her, ’twould have been the best of it. Yet to at least be inside, I hoped to protect her and assess the countenance of the men who held her. I offered myself in return and was quickly disarmed before they led me into the great hall. Malcolm said nothing to me, but he ordered two of the men to bring her from below.”
“What was her condition?” Greylen asked.
“She’d been beaten already, though not with the blow that covers her eye as I’ve been told. Her hands were covered with dirt and blood as if she had dug to try to free herself. She stood proudly before them, sir,” Alex said. “She never took her eyes from Malcolm. Then he proposed a game of sorts…and laughed as he explained the rules.”
Greylen waited for Alex to continue, his control fading as he watched a tremor run through his man. “The game, Alex?”
“I was brought before her, and Malcolm instructed her to watch as they killed me bit by bit. He told her if she wished to show mercy at any time, ’twould stop the game. Mercy meaning she would willingly give herself to him.”
Knowing what Alex’s living form bespoke, Greylen swallowed the bile that crept up his throat.
“I told her never to give,” Alex shouted. “I made not one sound as they inflicted each wound, and my eyes, they never wavered from hers. I swear I showed her only strength.” Alex came out of his chair, clearly as shaken as he was then. He shook his head, running his fingers harshly through his hair before he finally sat again and continued, “Then they began dislocating the fingers in my right hand, one by one. ’Twas the sound of the bones cracking that made her give. She did, though I begged her not to. I didn’t see her again. They beat me unconscious as she was led away.”
“He didn’t take her, Greylen,” Guy said quickly. “She fought his attempts as I’ve never seen before. It seemed ’twas her plan to get him alone, for she still had a trick up her sleeve, so to speak.”
“How do you know this?” Greylen demanded, looking to him.
“I escaped my chamber with the help of one of the servants. I knew I was no match alone for Malcolm and his men, but I saw what took place from the steps above. I waited in his chamber after I heard your wife’s shout of ‘enough’ with such force, ’twas the bravest word I’ve ever heard spoken. I waited behind the curtains, my own dagger ready to kill him for his atrocities. In my weakened state, though, I had to be sure I chose the right moment. She was in terrible shape, already beaten and filthy from the dank cells below. He taunted her for a time, saying things no one should speak, as he tried to break her with his words and cuts from his knife. There was a struggle, and she began fighting back, but so slight he easily overtook her. I made my move then, and she hers.” Guy paused, reaching for water, as he’d barely taken a breath since he began.
“She had a dagger of her own, and she reached for it. She tried to go for his throat, but he caught her before the blade found its mark. He was so enraged he didn’t see me as he dealt the blow that now covers her eye and knocked her out cold. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I removed him from your wife. Had I not been there, he’d have taken her even in her unconscious state. I was easily disarmed and, though badly beaten, I had inflicted enough wounds upon him myself that he was in no state to hurt her further. As I was taken from the room, he ordered her stripped and tied to the post outside. Then I found myself in the dungeon next to your man until your men arrived and freed us.”
The room became silent with the end of the events as they were told, and Greylen turned his chair to face the wall. “Leave me.”
Greylen waited for the doors to close behind them. As soon as he heard the latch click into place, he spent the next hour destroying everything in his sight. It took half a bottle of brandy before he was calm enough to leave his sanctuary, but he did, and Gavin waited just outside the doors.
“Is Isabelle holding up?” Greylen asked as they stood in the hallway.
“Aye, but she wants to see Gwen.”
“And my wife?” Greylen asked.
“Still in shock.”
“I’m going to sit with her by the fire, Gavin. Wait until we’ve settled, then remove the mirror from the bathing chamber.”
Greylen watched helplessly as his wife lingered in a state of unresponsiveness. She’d not said a word and only continued to stare blankly before her. Though she took the potions his mother placed to her lips, she never left their bed. Worse, she always curled into a ball when he had to leave her.
His mother stayed with her the few times that he’d been called away and also while he spent time in the nursery with Tristan. When he was with his wife, sadly, he found that he was just as silent with her as she was with him. In truth, he didn’t know what to say, and offered her comfort the only way that he knew how. He held her in his arms, praying for a sign of life, a reaction of any kind, be it tears or fury.
The third morning after he had brought her home, he dressed her when they awoke. Hoping some fresh air might do her good, he took her to watch the sunrise. He held her hand as they walked to the stables, noting oddly that Gwen positioned herself a step behind him and never directly at his side. She made no sounds as he lifted her atop his mount, nor any during their ride down the narrow path. She sat unmoving between his legs as they looked to the waters.
In no hurry to return, he leaned back, taking her with him. She was asleep moments later, tucked safely against his side. He’d slept so fitfully the past nights, listening to her cries, that now as the sun warmed them, he gave in to his exhaustion. Gavin’s shout awoke him, alarm and a sense of dread sweeping through his entire body.
Gwen was no longer beside him, and he ran, knowing the only place she could be—the water. She was fighting her way through the oncoming waves, the weight of the dress he had chosen pulled her down as she continued even farther. He called to her over and over again, finally diving beneath the waves and swimming as he had done only once before. She didn’t make a sound as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and offered no fight as he swam with her atop his chest back to the shore.
’Twas as he lay with her in the surf, catching his breath, that she finally looked at him for the first time since he’d brought her home. But her eyes were filled with only emptiness.
His anger got the better of him. “You would leave me? You would leave your son?” She only stared back, her look more confused than he’d ever seen. “Why, Gwen? Why?”
She finally broke then, anger and despair together. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore.” She covered her face in her hands and began to cry.
He’d not have it and grabbed at her hands, pulling them away. “Talk to me,” he demanded. “I am here. I have been here, Gwen. ’Tis you who have not.”
“I can’t remember, Greylen,” she shouted back. “I can’t remember what he did to me. I didn’t seek Kevin. I am to blame for everything that happened.”
“Gwen, there were five of them. They would have taken you both and most likely killed Kevin had he been with you.”
“I gave in, Greylen. I couldn’t let them torture Alex.”
“Gwen, you’ve never been put to something such as that. How can you blame yourself for such a sacrifice?”
“How can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?” she cried. “What they’ve done…to me. How?”
“You think so little of me, that I’d cast you aside or shun you?” He had to make her see. “You fought them, Gwen. You acted without fear, no matter what you felt inside. You performed as a leader. You spared your man’s life for the
sake of your own. You thought to kill your enemy yourself.”
“How do you know? ’Twas only Malcolm and I in that room, and I did try to kill him, but he stopped me. I don’t know what else he did.”
“He did nothing, Gwen. Gavin’s father stopped him, and he’s the one who told me of your battle with Malcolm. Just as Alex told me of your behavior as they tortured him before your eyes.”
She was silent for a moment before she spoke again, her words only a whisper this time. “He didn’t?”
Greylen knew what she asked and knew she needed to hear it again. “Nay, he did not. And had he, ’twould not have mattered to me. You are mine, Gwen. Nothing could shame you to me, especially a circumstance beyond your control.”
“But you’ve not talked to me—you’ve not brought my son to me. Not even a whisper as you hold me.”
“Ah, Gwen.” He sighed, shaking his head in regret. “I knew not what to say. How could I promise to love and protect you in the aftermath of what happened? You suffered for hours without my protection. ’Tis I who have failed you.”
“You never failed me, Greylen. You saved me from them.”
“Is it so bad that you can’t live with it?” he asked of her walk to the water.
“It just called to me, Greylen, or maybe I called to it. I don’t know. But then you were there. You are always there.”
He pulled her into his arms, all of the unspoken words at last put to rest. They lay on the beach a long while after, exhausted from their outpouring.
Greylen took Gwen back to their chamber where he left her for but a few minutes to have Anna fetch a tray. When he returned, their room was empty, but the doors of the bathing chamber were open. He hadn’t told her of the mirror, and she’d been so drugged and dazed those past few days, she hadn’t noticed when he or his mother had taken her inside.
She was standing in front of the chest, her hand reaching for the empty wall. He removed his shirt as he moved to her. Then he gathered her in his arms from behind, his bare feet encompassing hers as they stood there.