Defending His Lady (Norfolk Knights Book 4)

by Saskia Knight

  But he felt frustrated. Sir Gilbert wasn’t there, and he’d never imagined capturing the castle would be so easy. It seemed his brother William would be doing the real fighting. An approaching horseman soon brought the message that William’s fight had been swift and successful.

  “They surrendered, my lord, almost immediately. They were confused by the ambush and driven into the waters by our men, scattered and without leadership.”

  Rufus nodded but still felt some sense of unease. His gaze turned toward the direction of his own castle. Dawn had broken and the light filled the sky to the east where the sea and Wanham lay. Something wasn’t right. Why had it been so easy?

  “Where is he?” Rufus asked Lady Maud, who cowered with her maids in a corner of the hall. She looked around fearfully and called out for her men.

  “There are none at your disposal, my lady. Where is your father?”

  Lady Maud’s face blanched in the light of the darting flames of the fire. “How dare you enter my castle like a ruffian!”

  “Maybe because that’s what I am.”

  Suddenly there was a commotion, and Rufus turned around to find the traitor Bayard standing before him, dried blood on his face and clothes, his arms brought up hard behind him by the guards.

  “Ah, Bayard. So this is where you lurk, around the women’s skirts.” He turned to the men guarding Lady Maud and her ladies. “Secure them in the solar.”

  He nodded to his men who searched Bayard for arms. One withdrew a blade and handed it to Rufus who toyed with it, before looking up at Bayard. He had no intention of hurting the man, no matter what he felt for him, but there was no reason not to put the fear of God into him. From the expression on Bayard’s face, it was working. So much the better. “Leave us,” Rufus commanded his men.

  Rufus walked up to the traitor and looked him up and down in disdain. The man had hardly bothered to dress for battle, leaving it to others.

  “The king and Sir Gilbert will be furious when they hear of this!” said Bayard.

  “The king? I think not. The king is only anxious to secure funds to fight in France. He cares not for you, or for Sir Gilbert or his daughter, nor for me, come to that. The king only cares for himself.” Rufus sat down wearily and speared the dagger into the table before looking up at Bayard. “Come, sit, and I will tell you what you will do.”

  Rufus could see the thoughts and hopes swiftly followed by despair flit across the other man’s face. He stared at him, simply waiting. There was nothing more required to face down such a man as he. He could see the moment he crumpled, and he repeated his command. “Sit and listen.”

  This time the other man obeyed. “Our families were friends, once, Rufus. We could be again.”

  Rufus huffed a derisive laugh.

  “If you had married Sir Gilbert’s daughter none of this would have happened,” he continued.

  “If Lady Maud had not been in a liaison with the king, I would have.”

  Bayard’s eyes lit up with hope. “She is here now. Upstairs. Call off this fight, marry her and we can combine our wealth. Just think, Rufus, we can share all of this.”

  Rufus was curious to hear what the other man had in mind. “And what of our neighbors, the de Courcys, whose castle this is? What of them?”

  He shrugged. “Who cares? Not I, and nor will you once you have married Lady Maud. The king’s… affections have strayed and he has no longer any use for her. And she is with child and needs a husband.”

  “It is too late.”

  Bayard shook his head vigorously, imagining he was about to be saved. “No, it’s not! It’s not too late at all!” The man gulped with fear.

  Rufus shook his head, not believing how this man could for one moment believe Rufus would double-cross the de Courcys—who, with William, would be arriving to claim the castle at any moment—and marry such a woman as Lady Maud.

  “Even if I wished to, and I do not, I am already married.”

  “The marriage can be annulled.”

  “No.” Rufus said it with a finality. “I’ve had enough of listening to your plans that are no plans. What I want from you is to tell me where de Montmorency is.”

  “He’s… not here.”

  Rufus sighed and withdrew his dagger from the table, clenching it in his hand. “Do I really have to use force?”

  Bayard shook his head vigorously, his throat rippling with fear. “No.”

  Rufus sat back again in his chair. “I thought as much. So tell me, where is he?” He plucked some papers from beneath his surcoat and tossed them onto the table. “He needs to sign these.”

  Bayard glanced down at the papers.

  “He will sign over the castle and lands to their rightful owners—Sir Richard de Courcy. Where is he?”

  For the first time Rufus felt a shadow of apprehension when Bayard met his gaze. “He’s not here.”

  “That much I know. Tell me, or you’ll die.” Rufus was losing patience and leaned forward until his face was close against that of his enemy.

  “He’s fighting the enemy.”

  “Nay. He wasn’t amongst those who left the castle this morning.”

  “That’s because he left a different way. By sea.”

  That single word sent a chill wave of fear through Rufus’s body. He jumped up and called his men. “Guard him and the other prisoners,” he bellowed. “And the rest, come with me.”

  Chapter 20

  With Rufus’s sisters safely on their way to Yarmouth until the battle was over, Kezia, Lady Charlotte and a small group of men took their places on the sand dunes. It was the spot where she had first kissed Rufus. They were sheltered from the wind and from any eyes, scouting across the line of the dunes. Heavily cloaked, they lay in silence, scanning the dark sea, looking for lighter shapes upon it.

  It happened sooner than they’d imagined. Two boats silently slipping onto the sands on the crest of waves. Two boats and two times as many men in each.

  “Seems Sir Gilbert thought eight men would be enough,” said Lady Charlotte with a quiet huff of laughter.

  Kezia couldn’t help but think he might have a point.

  “There are but five of us.”

  Lady Charlotte glanced at the three heavily armed men who stood just below their watch and then turned to Kezia. “Aye, but we are two women with hearts and courage bigger than any.” She gripped the sword that hung at her waist and tapped her hand against the daggers stashed upon her person. Kezia was equally well armed. “And I have long wanted to fight these men.” She beckoned her men to come forward.

  Kezia gained courage from her words and smiled at her new companion in arms. “We do this for the family.”

  “For all of us. Including the unborn.” Lady Charlotte touched Kezia’s stomach. “Our future,” she said, before turning to the men who were now scrabbling out of the boats and onto the sand. But suddenly they saw more shapes upon the water—two more boats, eight more men. “You, Kezia, must return to the castle and fetch more men. There is no attack upon the castle, the attack is here, now.” She gave a soft grunt. “Sir Gilbert must have stayed to fight Rufus. Strange, I thought he might have shown up here.” She turned to Kezia. “You must go.”

  “No, I will stay and fight.”

  “If you do that, we are all dead. I need no protection, but you do. You’re carrying the future of our family. For all our sakes, you must stay safe.” With a push, Lady Charlotte sent her running.

  Despite her wish to fight alongside this brave woman, Kezia did what she had to do. As soon as she reached the castle she raised the alarm and sent the remaining men to the beach to support Lady Charlotte, and a messenger to Rufus. She could hear cries of rage and the clash of metal upon metal as she clambered upon her horse and raced back to the beach.

  She flung the reins upon a thorny tree and scrambled up the dunes. She could see at a glance that Lady Charlotte and her men, supported by the others who’d come to her aid, had the upper hand. If their enemies thought they had
the advantage of surprise, they were sorely mistaken. Lady Charlotte had out-maneuvered her enemy as easily as if she were playing a game of chess—a single remaining queen easily quelling any number of pawns.

  It seemed she was not needed. She scrambled toward Lady Charlotte who stood alone, watching the few remaining men retreating back to the sands and sea—a single boat managing to win the fight with the surf and pull swiftly away and out of sight. Lady Charlotte looked like an indomitable queen, surveying the ocean as if she owned it, blood dripping from her sword.

  “You did it.”

  Lady Charlotte turned around to face Kezia with an undisguised arrogance and smile. “You doubted it?”

  Kezia smiled. “No, never. With such a woman as you at the head of this family, we were never going to be vanquished.”

  Lady Charlotte put her arm around Kezia, and they embraced and watched the men disappear up the lane toward the manor, rejoicing in their victory. They were quite alone. “Then, come, it is time to return home. The men say they’ve received word of Rufus and William’s successful advance. The de Courcy castle has been regained. I consider this morning a great success.”

  Laughing, they stood at the top of the dunes. Kezia noticed Lady Charlotte’s eyes narrow as if she’d seen something.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She pushed Kezia away. “Go now, and find your man.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Go find Rufus and tell him I would see him, here. Now.”

  Kezia looked again into the distance but saw nothing. She could distinguish men from trees and bracken, but not differentiate the subtle shades of gray which layered the sand, sea and sky here. It all looked as one.

  She jumped on her mount and headed toward where she knew Rufus would be. But then she heard what sounded like a muffled cry. She pulled her horse up sharply and turned around, back to the sea. She ran up the dunes but Lady Charlotte was no longer there. Instead Kezia was faced with Sir Gilbert, his bear-like shape a blot against the pale dawn sky, his bloodied sword pointed directly at her.

  “Ha!” cried Sir Gilbert. “I thought you’d be here with Lady Charlotte. Such arrogance to believe you could defend yourselves.”

  Kezia lifted her chin. “It is no arrogance, sir. We have defended ourselves. My lady mother has bested your men.”

  His lip curled to reveal rotting teeth and Kezia stepped away, unable to stop herself.

  “Bested, you say? Come here, wench, and I’ll show you who’s bested whom.”

  She shook her head. “Nay, I’ll go nowhere, but I suggest you do. Rufus and the others will be upon us at any moment.”

  “I have time to do what I want to do. First”—he lunged forward and grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him—“I want to show you something.”

  With her arm painfully twisted up her back, Kezia had no choice but to comply. She bit back the whimpers of pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt her. But she couldn’t prevent a cry escaping her lips at what she saw below her. At the bottom of the dunes lay the broken and bloodied figure of Lady Charlotte, motionless, open eyes staring blindly at the lightening sky.

  As the vision blurred she looked up into the sky and cried out. She was rewarded with a further tug on her arm, twisting it higher up her back.

  “I just wanted you to see what lies ahead of you.”

  “You’ll never escape.”

  “Ah, but I will. Have no fear about that. And it can never be proved who killed both the bastard’s mother and wife.”

  There was a sudden explosion of sound, and before Sir Gilbert or Kezia could move, she was thrown forward down the dunes towards the dead body of Lady Charlotte.

  For a moment, as she lay winded, gasping for breath, with her hands on Lady Charlotte’s bloody body, Kezia thought she’d been dealt her death blow. But then the clash of steel on steel sounded above her, and she looked up to see Rufus fighting Gilbert amid a cloud of sand. Rufus had somehow managed to knock her clear so he could have Gilbert to himself.

  She struggled to stand and climb the steep sand dune, desperate to ensure Rufus didn’t end up another victim of the man who’d begun his reign of terror on her life with Ethelinda. But as she reached the top of the dune she was relieved to see Rufus had the upper hand. His anger had fixed his face into a calm, cold strength which sent chills into her soul. With two swift blows, Gilbert’s sword was tossed aside and Gilbert was on his knees before Rufus, the point of the sword now worked between the two steel plates of his brigandine, the vulnerable point of his armor.

  “You won’t kill me,” Gilbert snarled. “You haven’t the guts.”

  “I defend my own, and Kezia is my own.”

  “Like your mother down there?”

  Rufus glanced to the bottom of the dune and saw his mother lying dead. He turned back to Gilbert with an expression which couldn’t be mistaken.

  “This is for my mother, and this”—he looked at Kezia—“is for Ethelinda.” Rufus turned back to Gilbert and thrust the sword deep into Gilbert’s body. Gilbert’s eyes widened with surprise and he looked down at the sword, from which blood leaked. He opened his mouth to speak but slumped to the sand before any word was uttered.

  With a grunt, Rufus withdrew the sword and re-sheathed it, his eyes moving between Lady Charlotte and Kezia.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked Kezia.

  She bit her lip to prevent the tears and shook her head. “No.”

  “Good.” He went to the bottom of the dune and knelt beside his mother’s body. Kezia stood, tears streaming down her face as she watched him gently close his mother’s eyes. He picked her up, cradled her in his arms, and carried her up the sand and onto the road to the castle.

  There were people everywhere, celebrating the victory against the de Montmorency family, celebrating the return of the castle to the rightful de Courcy owners. But as Rufus, his mother held gently his arms, his eyes on the mid-distance, walked up the road toward the castle with Kezia at his side, the cheers and laughter quieted, and the men-at-arms moved to one side, A wave of silence flowed behind them.

  At the gatehouse Rufus paused for the first time and looked down at his mother in the privacy of the flint walls. Kezia touched his arm, trying to connect with him, to bring him comfort, but he shook his head without looking at her and stepped into the busy bailey yard.

  Celestria was sharing a joke with a young knight, while Katherine and William were hugging each other in joy at the victorious outcome. It was Lora who first noticed them. Then, one by one people gasped and brought their hands to their shocked faces. William turned to face them when he heard Lora’s cry.

  A long keening wail rose into the later afternoon air, filling it and everyone with dread. It came from Katherine, as William aided Rufus in setting the body of Lady Charlotte upon a bench. Katherine stood frozen to the spot as Rufus shook his head and stepped away. He met Kezia’s gaze and she knew what he wanted her to do—to confirm what they both already knew. She knelt and rested her cheek against Lady Charlotte’s chest and her mouth, listening. When she looked back up at Rufus, she shook her head. Lady Charlotte no longer lived.

  Kezia stepped away, first one slow step and then another. And with each step the reality of what had just happened sunk in. But it wasn’t until she was standing apart from the circle of crying and stunned family who knelt beside the dead woman that the full import of Lady Charlotte’s death hit her. In one fell swoop, everything had changed.

  Chapter 21

  Kezia couldn’t have said how long she stood apart from the family—unable to intrude—listening to the grieving of Lady Charlotte’s daughters, watching the silent lines of grief etched in the face of her stalwart sons, and feeling utter guilt and utter sadness. Guilt that, because she was with child, Lady Charlotte had sent her away. If she hadn’t been carrying Rufus’s child, and if she’d stayed, she might have been able to save her. And sadness because she’d only just begun to know her. Bu
t slowly the servants returned to work and life went on.

  Kezia watched as Rufus tried to comfort his sisters but Katherine shook off his arm angrily and continued to kneel by her mother. Katherine’s hands and cheek were smeared with Lady Charlotte’s blood. “Katherine, please. You must allow the men to take Mother inside.”

  She shook her head and wailed and clung to her mother’s hand. Rufus firmly peeled her hand away and lifted her. “You must, Katherine. We must do this for Mother.”

  This time she allowed him to hold her and give her comfort while he nodded to his men to take the body inside. It was only after that had been done that Rufus moved and, for the first time, Katherine caught sight of Kezia.

  “Kezia! Are you, too, hurt?”

  Kezia swallowed and shook her head. “Nay.”

  “But you were with her when she died?”

  Again she shook her head. “But I should have been, and would have been if she hadn’t told me to go.”

  Rufus frowned. “She told you to go, rather than stay and fight together?”

  Kezia couldn’t meet his gaze. “Aye.”

  “You must not blame yourself, Kezia,” said Katherine.

  Kezia stepped away. All she could feel was blame. “But I do. If I….” A sob hitched in her throat. “If I,” she tried again, “hadn’t been…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  “Been what?” asked Rufus.

  Kezia looked away, unable to face Katherine, her hands shifting of their own accord to her stomach.

  “What is it, Kezia?” Rufus came and took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye. And what she saw there was fear and tenderness. “Are you ill?”

  “Nay. Not ill,” said Katherine. “Mother and I suspected Kezia is carrying your child, and I believe that is why Mother sent Kezia away.”