Perils of Wrath

by Park, Elsie

  Roland moved to grab her, but Doyle’s sword against her neck stopped him. She lifted her chin up, trying to escape the blade’s cold touch, but Doyle pressed it closer, the steel grazing her tightened throat. She dared not swallow.

  “Let me go, or she dies,” Doyle said, backing his way down the bridge with Audri.

  “Let her go, or you’ll just die sooner than later,” Gaius bellowed back, stepping up beside Roland with his sword pointed upward toward the sky. “What does this woman mean to you?” Audri heard Gaius ask Roland.

  Roland looked at Audri. She could perceive the pain of frustration in his face as she was being dragged away. She knew he longed to attack Doyle, but fear for her life kept him rooted. “She means everything to me,” he said. “I love her.”

  Audri yearned to run to him, to feel the safety of his arms, but Doyle’s blade kept her from struggling in any way. She already felt the sting of a shallow cut, a trickle of blood dripping down her neck.

  “Very well,” Gaius said, slicing his sword down through the air. In that instant, an arrow embedded itself in Doyle’s skull, just inches away from Audri’s. She screamed as she was dragged down by the weight of Doyle’s lifeless body. Blood had splattered Audri’s hair, skin, and clothes, and she dared not think of the alternative had the bowman been slightly off his mark.

  Roland rushed to her side, squatting down to help move Doyle’s carcass off of her.

  “Filthy Scotsman!” Audri’s head turned at the shout. Sir Hammond charged at Gaius, sword raised. Roland stood fast, grabbing for his own hilt. He’d barely gotten his sword out when Hammond dropped to the wooden planks inches from him. Blood secreted from the back of his head. Audri looked over to find Heath, crossbow still in hand, lowering the fired weapon to waist level.

  Harold, infuriated over the slaughter of his brother, turned and ran at Heath with his sword. Heath didn’t have the spare bolts, as Roland had been the one who’d carried the crossbow. He dropped the weapon to the ground and reached for his sword as Roland scurried in their direction, but Harold was upon Heath before Heath’s sword was barely halfway out of its sheath.

  An arrow from the Scottish side whizzed past, embedding itself in Harold’s upper back just as he sliced his sword toward Heath’s head. Heath ducked and turned as Harold fell forward, his wayward sword running along the surface of Heath’s head.

  “HEATH!” Roland yelled, running faster.

  Audri, still stuck under Doyle’s body, pushed at the dead weight. Suddenly it was lifted from her and pitched aside by Gaius and one of his men. Gaius turned and extended his hand to her. She took it and he effortlessly pulled her to her feet. He ripped a piece of linen from his own undertunic and handed it to her. “For your neck, lass.”

  “Thank you, milord,” she said with sincere gratitude, taking the cloth and placing it against the cut at her throat. It was a minor incision but stung. Hearing footsteps, she turned. Roland and Andrew approached, Heath between them. The latter walked upright and was very much alive, but blood dripped down the sides of his face. She sighed, grateful for his spared life. She’d thought the worst when Harold’s sword connected with his head.

  Audri handed him the cloth she’d been using on her neck.

  Heath took it and placed it over the wound on top of his head. “I’ll live,” Heath assured her with a wink after seeing her concerned face.

  “You’d better,” Audri returned with a grin. “I have a lady-in-waiting who’ll be more than sore at you if you don’t return alive.”

  “Oh, he’ll more than live,” Roland said, bringing Audri into his arms. She wrapped hers around his middle, resting her head against his chainmail. It didn’t matter that the surface was cold and rough, Roland felt warm and tender to her. “The tip just grazed him. It left a lovely etch in his skull, though, spanning from the left side to the right. Heath will certainly have a scar, but it will be a great story to tell his children someday.”

  Heath smiled and puffed his chest out, hitting it with his fist.

  Roland turned to Gaius. “Had it not been for your bowman, he would have lost his life.”

  Gaius’s face showed pride. “That would be my head archer, Archie.” They all smiled at the fitting name. “He’s the best there is.”

  “Be sure to extend our gratitude,” Audri said.

  “I will,” Gaius promised. He turned to Heath. “And you probably saved me from serious injury or death with that exemplary shot. Thank you.” His face showed approval of the knight. “You handled that crossbow as if you were born with it in hand.”

  “Oh yes,” Roland piped up, grinning. “It’s his weapon of choice. He loves it.”

  Heath glared at him.

  Gaius motioned for his men to deal with the bodies.

  Audri stepped from Roland’s embrace but remained at his side. His left arm snaked around her waist.

  Gaius returned his attention to them. “I want you to know that I wouldn’t have agreed to this arrangement had I been aware of the true circumstances surrounding it. Especially now that I know that this good woman is not here of her own free will as Doyle pledged she would be, and she’s already devoted to my long-lost kin.” Gaius viewed his grandson with kind but remorseful eyes, no doubt thinking of all the years he could have known him and spent time with him. He certainly thought the same of his deceased daughter. “We aren’t barbarians,” Gaius said. “We have hearts that can be swayed. We’re just people fighting for our lands, our freedoms, our peace—”

  A splash interrupted him and, for a moment, turned everyone’s attention to the bodies being dumped over the railing. He continued, “And justice for the wrongs done to our families.”

  A Scottish guard approached Heath and handed him a bolt. It was the one that had killed Hammond, saving Gaius’s life. Heath nodded and took the thick metal dart.

  “I suppose you’re wondering at the state of the pact and what it means for the security of Guildon,” Gaius said. He leaned an elbow on the railing and stared out over the water rushing below them. “The Battle of Bannockburn has set in motion a great machine, rolling forth in the form of Scots eager to take back their lands. As for what the future holds, I cannot be certain. I am not our king. I do not control all the factions in Scotland.” He faced Roland, handing Honora’s confession back to him. “But as for the regions under my power, I consider my grandson’s presence in Guildon enough of a treaty to keep it off our list.” He smiled. “As long as you reside there, you’ll have no fear of my attacking. Family loyalty runs deep in the Murdoch clan.” The Scotsman extended his hand toward Roland.

  Roland took it, his hand gripping his grandfather’s forearm as Gaius firmly took hold of his grandson’s.

  “I still can’t express my full joy in discovering my daughter’s son, a ray of light in these troubled, war-torn times.”

  “Perhaps I’ll venture over on occasion to visit my kinfolk,” Roland suggested.

  “Is that a promise?” Gaius said, squeezing Roland’s arm tighter.

  “That’s a promise,” Roland nodded.

  Gaius’s thick beard parted with his wide grin. “Good, I’d like that . . . I’d like that very much. Haulstone sits just beyond this bridge. You’d be my honored guest.”

  Gaius suddenly pulled Roland to him, wrapping his broad arms around him. Audri smiled at the unforeseen turn of events, and tears formed in her eyes again.

  Gaius pulled back and regarded Audri. “You would have made a breathtaking wife for the grandson I had planned to give you to, but since you’re already attached to my other grandson . . .” Audri blushed while Roland chuckled at Gaius’s words. “I’ve certainly not been given the short end of the stick.” He laughed heartily and then focused on Audri. “I trust this incident hasn’t deterred you from accompanying Roland on his visits.”

  Audri shook her head. “On the contrary, Lord Murdoch, my eyes have
been opened in more ways than one this day, and I’d be pleased to see you again.”

  Gaius nodded at her and grinned—a warm, heartfelt gesture. “Now, go in peace. Enjoy it for as long as this world sees fit to grant it.”

  Roland placed his hand on Gaius’ shoulder. “’Til we meet again . . . grandfather.”

  Roland then took Audri’s hand in his, the heat of it warming her. They walked together across the bridge, Heath and Andrew following at their heels. Heath picked up the crossbow where he’d dropped it in the mud and placed it over his shoulder. With a last glance at Lord Gaius Murdoch, already astride his horse, they headed home.

  On the trek back, Sir Heath showed Andrew how to arm the crossbow while Roland told Audri what had happened in the dungeon after he woke up on the rack.

  “Oh, Roland,” Audri said as she stepped over a large rock. “I can’t believe so much has happened in one day. It was almost more than I could take, and I’m relieved it’s ended well.”

  Roland nodded, “Yes, a heavy weight has been lifted off our shoulders.”

  “And you, Andrew,” Audri said, turning to the young man five paces to her left. “I’m utterly pleased to see you alive. Where were you several days ago when we infiltrated the dungeon? Autumn was beside herself with worry that they’d killed you.”

  Taking a break from the crossbow instructions, Andrew handed the weapon back to Heath. “Sir Doyle had ordered those same two knights to have me deliver a sealed document to Lord Murdoch. They took me through the tunnel and sent me along this very path to meet him. The knights returned to the castle, but a guard stayed at the tunnel entrance to make sure I returned.”

  “And how was meeting my grandfather for the first time?” Roland asked. “Gaius must have posed a daunting figure.”

  Andrew nodded, his eyes growing large. “Oh, he did, Sir Roland, he did. He was the epitome of a stout Scottish warrior sitting astride his large gray warhorse. We met halfway across the bridge, me on foot, him on his steed. We made the trade, his sack of gold for my parchment, the contents of which I knew nothing about until Lord Murdoch opened it up and scanned it. ‘So this is the plan to relieve Stirling, is it?’ he had said. It was then I knew I had just delivered vital strategies and numbers to aid the Scots in the battle for Stirling Castle. I felt I might lose my stomach, feeling like the most abhorrent traitor in all England.”

  Andrew walked for a time in silence, as did Audri and the knights.

  “I could see the disgust in his face, too,” Andrew continued, “over who he thought I was: a base person betraying my own country for money or power, though he wasn’t above accepting the information from me. I don’t know why a stranger’s opinion bothered me so greatly, especially someone I never thought to see again, but it did. When he asked me why I turned traitor, I opened up to him, telling him the truth, that my sister was held ransom under penalty of torture and death should I not complete this assignment.”

  “How did Lord Murdoch respond to that?” Audri asked.

  “He actually said he was sorry,” Andrew stated, his brows arching upward in astonishment. “There was true regret in his eyes. He told me he knew well the pain of losing a loved one and he hoped I would find my sibling alive upon my return. That struck my heart, and I couldn’t find it within myself to hate the man, my apparent enemy.” Andrew’s expression was pensive, considerate of the Scotsman. “He’s a decent man, Sir Roland, of that I am sure.”

  Roland nodded. “I feel a great contentment in hearing this account, Andrew, for it has gained me more insight into who my grandfather is. Thank you.”

  Much of the remaining hike was completed in silence as Roland, no doubt, thought about his kin. Audri mulled over the recent events, especially her relationship to her mother.

  It had pained Audri to watch her slowly deteriorate into a shy, scared little lamb because of Festus’s ill treatment.

  “There’s a real strength and aptitude in your mother, Audri,” Roland said to her after a time, as if guessing her thoughts. “I think her seeing you grow in your own strengths has really helped bring hers out.”

  Audri nodded but still said nothing. She pondered her situation, questions of her origin occupying her mind.

  “It’s been an eventful day, hasn’t it?” Roland commented in reverent observance.

  Heath snorted, looking over from giving Andrew instructions again. “You say that as if we’ve just spent the day shopping. Yes, I’d say that Audri being abducted, me being drugged, you getting the tar beaten out of you, witnessing the deaths of Sir Doyle, Sir Hammond, and Sir Harold, dodging an attack from Haulstone, finding out you’re the grandson of Haulstone’s earl, and Audri discovering she wasn’t born to the woman she’s called mother all these years is certainly something we can term an eventful day.” Heath shook his head at Roland before turning to Andrew and taking the crossbow from the young man, arming it with the bloodstained bolt.

  Roland gave Audri a half-smile, and she returned it.

  As they finally neared the tunnel that would lead them back to the dungeon, Roland brought up the subject she was hesitant to discuss.

  “I can imagine the deep thoughts going through your mind just now,” Roland said. “Especially over your birth.”

  Audri nodded, taking a deep breath. “I admit it has shaken me.” She paused. “The tense situation with Doyle and the Sco—I mean your grandfather—didn’t help.”

  “I realize that, too,” Roland said.

  At the tunnel entrance, Heath handed Audri the armed crossbow and its lever, mumbling something about it being the worst weapon ever devised and bringing a smile to her lips at his reluctance to admit he really liked it. Sir Heath used some flint and steel hanging in a pouch on the tunnel wall to relight their tar-covered torches.

  They entered the tunnel and started their descent, Audri still holding the weapon.

  “There were clues, Roland,” Audri continued, knowing she needed to talk about it. “Clues that I refused to consider. It explains why I look nothing like her . . . why I thought it odd that she couldn’t have more children after supposedly having me. I’m guessing she never could have children.” Audri looked at Roland, the side of his face illuminated by torchlight. “I wonder if things will be different between us now that I know.” She returned her gaze to the ground, watching her footing on the uneven ground.

  She felt Roland look at her in the dim tunnel.

  “I, too, was raised by someone not of my blood,” he reminded her.

  “I know,” she nodded. “How . . . how did you handle it?”

  Roland didn’t answer immediately, thinking it over. “I’d known since I was small that my parents had died, but what made the difference in my ability to handle it had everything to do with the people who took me in. First Emmy and then Lord and Lady Beaumont. They treated me as if I were a child of their own flesh. They loved me as their own, making me their own. A parent isn’t necessarily the one who gives birth to you or who assists in the conceiving.”

  Audri blushed at the intimate image that brought to her mind, grateful it was too dark for Roland to see her changed hue.

  “Whether of the same blood or not, true parents,” Roland continued, “are those who love and care for you, who give of their time, means, and substance for you. True parents are there when you need them, who treat you with patience and understanding, even when you make mistakes—as children often do. All these things can be performed by someone not of your blood, making them a true parent. I’m grateful that I’ve experienced exceptional examples of true parenthood, especially since my birth parents didn’t have the chance.”

  Audri pondered the actions of the woman she called “mother,” the woman who had perched herself on Audri’s bed to play dolls with her, who had told romantic tales and wonderful stories by the fireside, who had talked with her into the wee hours of morning about hopes and dreams, who h
ad ridden horses with her to picnic in the meadows, who had soothed her fears with kind words of encouragement, who had delivered countless hugs, who kissed away the pain of childhood bumps and bruises, who had instilled in Audri a strong faith in the Almighty and His magnificent works, who had set an example of devotion, perseverance, and love.

  Audri felt peace wash over her. “I know Honora has fulfilled her role as a true parent, showing me so much love and care that I can’t imagine anyone else filling that role. Her very name signifies her life, and she deserves my continued unconditional love. You’re right. Nothing should, nor will, change between us. If anything, it will make our bond as mother and daughter stronger. I love her with all my heart.”

  He nodded at her. “Good lass. Be sure to tell her that.”

  “I will,” Audri assured him.

  She shifted the crossbow to her other shoulder, holding it with one hand so she could plug her nose with the other. Though the putrid smell was still as strong as she remembered from earlier, she realized she hadn’t stepped over any corpses. Strange.

  Roland was apparently of the same mind.

  He stepped to the right side of the tunnel and stretched his torch toward the earthen wall. The cadavers that had previously been scattered about the pathway were now pushed to the right side of the shaft, leaving the left side clear.

  “Looks like someone has started to clean house,” Roland observed.

  “I suspect Lady Craven,” Heath said.

  They wended their way to the main cavern and stopped short, in awe at what they saw.

  Maids, servants, an apothecary, the barber surgeon, and even a few guardsmen scurried about, tending to sick and injured prisoners. Some prisoners still sat in their cells, but all the doors had been opened wide. Blankets had been brought down to warm the frailest. Good food, not table scraps, had been delivered from the larder for them to eat, being placed on one of the large dungeon tables. What torture devices that could easily be moved had been pushed up against the walls, leaving a large space in the center of the main cavern. Only the two racks were left unmoved, having been converted into surgery tables.