Perils of Wrath

by Park, Elsie

  “You’re a strong woman, Gail, inside and out,” Roland commended.

  She nodded, regarding Roland with equal approval, but her serious demeanor and wringing hands expressed her deeper worry at Audri being abducted and carried away.

  “Won’t Festus be down to investigate the disturbance you caused?” Roland asked as he slipped his gambeson on, the padded undercoat warming his cold body.

  “No, he won’t.” This came from the person behind Gail.

  “Lady Craven,” Roland said with a dip of his head as she came to stand before him.

  “He’s literally had a taste of his own medicine,” Honora said. “He’s the one who gave the sleeping powder to Doyle for your wine. He’s used that trick on others before. He keeps a pot of it in his chamber. He thinks I don’t know what’s going on, but I do. When this clever lad,” she reached over and tenderly squeezed Bryant’s shoulder as she spoke, “came upon his unconscious knight and saw that you and my daughter were gone, he came straight to me. After assisting these two,” she nodded toward Heath and Gail before continuing, “and learning from them what had probably happened, I knew that I had to get Festus out of the way. I took him some wine laced with an exceptional amount of powder. He’ll be out for hours.”

  “Thank you, Lady Craven,” Roland said as Heath helped him into his chainmail. “You are a brave woman indeed.” He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “And I swear on my honor that I will bring your daughter back.”

  “I trust you will, Sir Roland. You belong with her.”

  Roland nodded, understanding the approval Lady Craven had just given him. It meant much coming from one who’d experienced the opposite of love through Festus’s abuse. Honora’s faith that Roland wouldn’t cause the same anguish for her daughter gave him a special strength, an enhanced desire to control his anger and overcome his weakness to be worthy of Audri’s love.

  Heath took an extra leather belt and sword from around his waist. “This is yours, too.” He handed the sword to Roland, and he put it on.

  “And this, too,” Heath added, taking the crossbow from his squire. “Take this accursed weapon and save your lady.”

  Roland’s eyes lit up as he took it. “And I thought Bryant brought it for you.”

  Heath wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  Honora’s small hand gently touched Roland’s arm, and he turned back to her.

  She placed a folded parchment into his palm. He looked down at it in confusion.

  “There’s no time to explain, but I trust you’ll know what to do with it.” He looked at her. “Bring her home, Sir Roland.”

  Still confused, but knowing time was of the essence, he nodded and stuffed the parchment into his tunic where it safely rested against his chest.

  He turned to Heath. “You have the dungeon keys, I presume?”

  “Does the king wear a crown?” Heath returned, holding the keys up. They clinked as he shook them.

  “Good,” Roland said. “Get the siblings out. We’ll need Andrew on this trek.” Heath moved to their cell and unlocked it. The other prisoners begged for their own release, but Roland knew Heath also felt the pressure of time. He left the prisoners as he and the siblings joined Roland again.

  “What do we do with the others?” Heath asked Roland, flicking his head in the prisoners’ direction.

  Knowing a massive liberation would only complicate their present situation, he looked to Lady Craven for guidance.

  She took the keys from Heath and turned to Roland. “I’ll take care of them.”

  “Thank you, milady.” Roland dipped his head to her again before grabbing some torches from the various walls. He handed one to each of his male companions, retaining one for himself.

  “This way,” Andrew said, leading the two knights into the depths.

  Chapter 18

  Leaving the marsh behind, Audri and her escorts entered another wooded area. She guessed they had been traveling for about three hours, possibly more, and thought the distance to be a good six or seven miles from the tunnel. They came to a bridge that spanned a wide river surrounded on both sides by thick trees and began to cross.

  When they reached the middle of the bridge, a loud thunk met their ears as a single arrow embedded itself in the planks at Sir Doyle’s feet. The twins drew their swords. The thought crossed her mind to run, but, as they were in Scottish territory, she wasn’t sure if a second arrow would pierce her in the back if she tried. Sir Doyle grabbed Audri’s arm, pulling her close. Whether this act was for her protection or to keep her from escaping, she wasn’t sure.

  “Halt and state your business, Britons!” a voice rich with a heavy Scottish accent shouted from the trees beyond.

  “Sir Doyle Lorcan of Guildon,” Doyle spoke loudly to be heard over the flowing water. “These are my knights, Sir Hammond and Sir Harold. My business is with Lord Gaius Murdoch, Earl of Haulstone, concerning this woman, Lady Audrina Gibbons . . . I am expected.”

  There was no response for a time. Audri longed for the Scots to reject Doyle’s explanation, forcing them to turn around and go home but knew in her heart it wouldn’t be so.

  “Sheath your weapons,” the Scotsman ordered.

  Doyle turned and flicked his head at the twins to do as they were told. Eyes wary, the knights hesitated before reluctantly placing their swords back into their scabbards. But they kept their hands on their hilts.

  A robust, red-haired Scotsman astride a massive warhorse appeared from the thicket beyond the bridge. A battle axe hung on each side of his saddle. The warrior wore chausses, a long brown leather tunic, and a sword. He was flanked on both sides by several longbowmen on foot, also in leather armor. The bearded warrior moved his mount forward, halting where the wooden planks of the bridge started. The bowmen remained just behind their leader as he dismounted and sauntered toward the small group, stopping ten feet before them.

  “I am Lord Gaius Murdoch, Earl of Haulstone,” the man said in his highland brogue. He bowed to Sir Doyle.

  “Lord Murdoch, we finally meet.” Sir Doyle bowed back, his firm grip still holding Audri’s arm. “Here is the subject of our communiqué.” He let her go and shoved her forward a pace, bringing the warrior’s eyes upon her. Audri observed the large man with apprehension, her mind recalling stories of Scottish brutality against those they considered enemies. Audri looked to her left, viewing the surge over the railing, and briefly entertained the thought of jumping into it. Did she dare chance her survival? She knew how to swim, yes, but the rains had swollen the rivers to massive proportions. And if the deep current didn’t kill her, the cold water in this northern region certainly would. Returning her gaze to the Scotsman, she wondered if death might be the better choice.

  Gaius’s beard moved as his mouth turned upward, baring his teeth in a smile. “Striking. Yes, quite satisfactory.” He deliberately walked around her, taking in her ensemble before coming to stand ahead of her once again. “I must say her attire is a bit peculiar for a woman.”

  “I thought it best,” Doyle lied, “seeing as the trek would be rough in places.”

  Gaius nodded. His eyes finally left her and turned to Doyle. “Very well. Your proposal to extend our peace agreement through a marriage union certainly intrigued me. She is of the nobility, aye?”

  Doyle nodded. “Yes. Lady Audrina Gibbons is a woman of noble birth. She is the docile ward of Lord Festus Craven, Earl of Guildon, and daughter of Lady Honora Gibbons Craven, duchess of Guildon, and her late husband, Lord Allan Gibbons, Earl of Warrenstead.”

  The Scotsman’s eyes glanced over at Audri again. Gaius lifted his hand in the air and snapped his fingers, signaling a guardsman from his end of the bridge to come forward. The sentry approached, stopping beside his lord and eyeing Audri.

  This was it. The point of no return. Audri shivered under her cloak, looking at all the armed men. If she ran, s
he’d be caught. If she jumped into the river, she’d die. If she died, the agreement would go unfulfilled, leaving her mother, Gail, and all the good villagers in Guildon vulnerable to Scottish attack. If she willingly went with the Scots, her loved ones would be safe through her sacrifice, for now. But her mother would still be facing her real threat—Festus’s cruelty. If Audri wasn’t in Guildon anymore, who else would risk her life working to save Honora from his violent hand? And she would never see Roland again before his sure death in the dungeon.

  She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. She saw no way out. Even if Roland somehow escaped the dungeon, he’d be too late. Once she was taken to Haulstone, Roland would have to contend with the castle’s entire armed forces to get to her, and that would end in his own imprisonment or death.

  Audri’s heart hammered in her chest, drowning out the noisy river current as the Scottish guard stepped toward her.

  In this moment of panic, she questioned her faith in God’s justice and mercy. A deviant feeling of guilt enveloped her body as she resigned herself to her fate.

  “HALT!” someone shouted from the English side of the bridge. “Don’t agree to anything!”

  Everyone turned toward the voice. The Scottish archers drew their bows back and pointed their arrows in that direction, ready to fire.

  Audri couldn’t believe her eyes. They welled up with tears of relief and joy at Sir Roland approaching the bridge at a run. He had escaped the dungeon! Upon seeing Sir Heath and Andrew behind him, she knew how. The trio came out of the woods breathing hard. Roland carried a crossbow over his shoulder, but seeing the bowmen, he stopped and slowly set it down at the foot of the bridge to show he meant no malcontent. Andrew and Heath stopped and stood beside the weapon.

  Roland started to cross the bridge. “I am Sir Roland Beaumont of Fairhaven, adopted son of Lord Calan and Lady Elsbeth Beaumont who are known to be strong supporters of peace between England and Scotland. Believe me when I say that this agreement is misleading, bearing false information.”

  Sir Doyle pointed at him. “That man is a threat to our cause, a dangerous cur,” he shouted to Gaius. “Kill him now!”

  “NO!” Audri yelled, her heart hammering. She took a step toward Roland’s advancing form only to be yanked back by Doyle.

  The archers stood poised, awaiting their leader’s signal.

  Gaius regarded Roland with curiosity before boring his eyes into Doyle’s. “I consider myself to be a reasonable man,” he said. “And, as this is my land, I will hear him out before making that decision.” He turned to his archers. “Stand down!”

  Audri breathed out, relieved, as they eased the tension in their bows, dropping their arms and pointing the arrows at the ground.

  Doyle’s nostrils flared, his lips pressed tightly together as he looked back at Roland. Audri had never seen the man so enraged.

  Sirs Hammond and Harold, who had drawn their swords when Roland first appeared, clearly thought better of advancing on him. Roland stared them down as he passed by, a safe distance from their blades. They sneered and spat in his direction.

  Roland sauntered up to Sir Doyle, Audri, and Gaius, his murderous eyes locking with Doyle’s before he turned a softened expression on Audri. His eyes told her that everything would be all right. At least she hoped that’s what she read in them. She gave a silent prayer asking God to forgive her earlier doubts.

  Roland faced Gaius. “Milord.” He bowed. “I’m sure this man,” he indicated Doyle with a flick of his head, “has you believing that this good woman is of noble birth.”

  Audri didn’t understand what he was talking about. Of course she was of the nobility. Her heart sped up. He was taking a great risk lying about it in order to defraud the agreement and get her out of it. If the Scots didn’t believe him, he’d be shot. He also risked war between Guildon and Haulstone. She glanced at the stout Highlander. Maybe she should play along and admit she wasn’t of noble blood, but that might get her killed as well. Roland eyed her, the slight shake of his head warning her to remain quiet. She peered into his face. Was that remorse she saw? For what? What was he about to do?

  Roland turned to Gaius. “I have a signed confession from Lady Honora Craven that this woman, Lady Gibbons, is not her birth daughter, but in fact, was a babe born of a servant in Honora’s former household and adopted by Lady Craven.”

  Audri gasped, her hand covering her mouth. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. She stared at Roland but saw verity in his face. She closed her open mouth, her hand moving to rest above her racing heart.

  She remembered only one time when she’d entertained the notion that Honora might not be her birth mother. She had been about eight years old, having noted, perhaps for the first time, their vastly different features. But she’d contentedly brushed it off as a ridiculous idea after Honora assured her that she simply took after her deceased father. Audri had trusted Honora’s words and had no reason to think otherwise after that.

  But now . . . now this. To think that her fleeting impression had been the truth after all. To think Honora had lied to her all these years. Why?

  Audri became lightheaded and felt her body sway. But the fear of fainting and leaving her unresponsive body open to the control of others overrode the sensation. She concentrated on breathing slow and deep until she steadied her racing heart and mind.

  “And it says here,” Roland held up a folded parchment, “that both Sir Doyle and Lord Craven are aware of it, that they are knowingly deceiving you.”

  “This is outrageous!” Doyle shouted.

  Gaius remained calm, though some irritation came through his words directed at Audri. “And are you deliberately involved in this act of deception?”

  Audri turned to him, baffled. All she could do was shake her head.

  Roland answered for her, “She’s had no idea of her true heredity until now, milord, of which fact this confession also states.” He glanced at Audri again, his expression showing the sincerest regret for having her find out this way.

  “Can you believe this lie?” Doyle roared, letting go of Audri. She tried to back away, but her back hit the railing directly behind her.

  “Is it a lie?” Gaius raised his eyebrows, taking the parchment from Roland. Gaius’s inquisitive gaze lingered on Roland’s face for a time, as if he deeply pondered the man before him. He unfolded the parchment and viewed it. His eyes moved back and forth over the words as he read. He folded it back up, keeping it in hand as he took in a slow, deep breath through his nose, exhaling with deliberate calm. Audri sensed he was a man of deep thought who didn’t jump to conclusions. She began to feel an honest respect for the Scotsman.

  Gaius focused on Roland again, tipping his head to the side as if trying to determine something in Roland’s bruised face. “You seem . . . familiar to me,” he said. “I know the name of Beaumont. Even among Scots, it holds great honor and integrity, so I trust your words. But it isn’t your adoptive family that piques my interest but who your birth parents are. Do you know who they are?”

  “Lord Murdoch,” Doyle interrupted with a nervousness Audri had never seen in him. “You’re wasting your time with this deceitful maggot. We should conclude our business.”

  The Scotsman turned on Doyle with aggravation evident in his stiff bearing. He pointed a finger at Doyle’s face. “I am lord here, and I say when we conclude our business.”

  Doyle glared at Gaius but backed down. “As you will, milord,” he muttered through tight lips.

  Gaius faced Roland again, raising his eyebrows at him as a signal to proceed.

  “I am the birth son of highland folk,” Roland disclosed. “They were born to different clans that forbade them to marry, so they escaped into England. Five years after having me, their only child, they were falsely accused of being spies. They were arrested, tortured for months, and hanged, all by this dishonorable knight standing here,” Roland s
aid, turning and pointing at Sir Doyle. The head knight tensed, his eyes darting around, eyeing the bowmen. Some of them had taken it upon themselves to raise their bows again.

  “I was saved by good villagers who took me to safety in another region of England. That’s where I met my adoptive parents.”

  “I see,” Gaius said, scrutinizing Doyle in disgust. “And what were your parents’ names?”

  “Olin and Sharee Fletcher,” Roland said with pride.

  Gaius inhaled through his nose, his eyes grown larger.

  Roland squinted at the man in curiosity. “Did you know them?”

  Gaius closed his eyes, his beard trembling under his bottom lip. A lone tear escaped from his eye. “Sharee was my daughter,” he said. He opened his eyes again. “My only daughter. And because of my pride, she ran off, never to be a part of my life again.”

  Roland was clearly taken aback. Audri gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth again. That meant that Roland was . . .

  “You’re . . . you’re my grandson.”

  Roland stood silent, his mouth agape. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to convey.

  “I have a grandson from my only daughter,” Gaius said with reverence more to himself, his eyes welling up more. “You . . . have so much of my Sharee in you,” Gaius observed, his brows pulled out in tender emotion.

  “Well, isn’t this a touching reunion?” Doyle sneered, bringing Gaius’s eyes to the man who had murdered his daughter and son-in-law.

  Gaius’s brows drew together and his nostrils flared in pure ire as he pointed an accusing finger in Doyle’s direction. “I promise you will not be leaving this place alive.”

  Audri’s eyes widened at the sound of bowmen pulling their strings taut. She looked around. Their arrows were pointed at Doyle.

  In one swift movement, Doyle grabbed Audri with one hand, bringing her up against his chest as he drew his sword with the other. His arm tightly encircled her waist, pinning her arms to her side and holding her to him.