by Lynn Kurland
“Oh, my lord Montgomery,” Phillip said in a high, squeaky voice, coming to stand very close to him, “what will befall us here? I see many very frightening lads with very sharp swords!”
“Aye,” Montgomery said shortly.
“I am not accustomed to this sort of thing in Faery!”
He elbowed Phillip in the ribs, but agreed loudly with the terrible danger they both seemed to face.
“This is my hall,” Gunnild said loudly. “Rid me of that usurper and his demon lover!”
Montgomery drew his sword, then rested it against his shoulder as he watched Boydin and Martin begin to argue with Gunnild about just who was in charge. Montgomery looked at Ranulf, who only shook his head. If he hadn’t still had quite a battle in front of him, he might have smiled. It was no wonder the keep was in the sorry state it was. Denys had likely spent all his time trying to keep his children—or his wife—from killing him so they might have what they seemed to want so much.
“Glory and riches,” Gunnild said, raising a sword that was obviously too heavy for her. “To me, men!”
“Food and wine,” bellowed Martin. “And wenches! Many wenches!”
The men looked torn. Montgomery would have gone to sit down and wait out the arguing that now ensued as Gunnild and her second son attempted to out-do each other’s promises, but out of the corner of his eye he’d caught Boydin slithering along the back wall as if he wanted to attempt an attack from where it wouldn’t be expected.
“Stay near me,” Montgomery said quietly to Phillip.
“Oh, my lord, I’m so frightened!” Phillip screeched.
Montgomery looked at him only to find the hafts of two wicked-looking knives poking out from his belt and the hilt of a sword gleaming in the depths of his cloak.
“You are your father’s son,” Montgomery murmured.
“Aye—my lord, to your left,” Phillip said sharply.
Montgomery turned and found himself engaging Boydin thanks to a rush against his men by lads who had obviously been unimpressed with Gunnild and Martin’s offerings. He fought off a very poor attack, then slapped his cousin’s sword out of his hands and glared at him. “I don’t particularly want to kill you,” he said shortly, “but I will.”
“You will not, you woman,” Boydin spat, diving for his sword. He staggered back to his feet with a curse. “All that talk of fierceness is nothing but talk. You haven’t the spine to run me through—”
He gasped.
Montgomery saw the bloody point of a sword protruding from Boydin’s chest, then watched him fall. Fitzpiers cleaned his sword on the back of Boydin’s tunic, then looked at Montgomery.
“One sent to Hell. Who next?”
“I don’t think you need to be choosey,” Montgomery said grimly. “Behind you!”
Fitzpiers spun around and engaged a garrison knight who apparently was interested in glory and wenches both. Montgomery shook his head. He didn’t want to, particularly, but he suspected he was going to need to start afresh with an entirely new set of guardsmen.
He took a deep breath, then threw himself into something that had evolved into a fierce fray. He wondered if the current pattern of absurdity was going to color the rest of his life. Gunnild and Martin were standing on the edge of the hall shouting at each other, his squire was making an enormous production of preparing to swoon from fear, and his steward was in danger of being relieved of his tasks as steward and taking on the one of garrison captain. François was guarding the four previously captured guardsmen and Petter and his lads were gingerly herding peasants bearing makeshift weapons into a group as well.
That left him and his trio of personal guardsmen to see to the rest of the garrison, a task he didn’t relish but could easily see the necessity of. He went about his work with his own lads for perhaps a quarter hour before he took a moment to reassess the situation. Peasants were standing in a large group in a corner, Phillip had pinned Martin in a corner with his sword, and someone else had taken over the swooning in the middle of the hall—Fitzpiers’s son Maurice, no doubt, who would also need a hefty infusion of gold in his purse to repay him for the humiliation—
He frowned.
That wasn’t Maurice in the midst of the hall, weeping loudly, that was Phillip. Maurice was taking on Gunnild under the watchful eye of his father, who stood there with his sword resting on his shoulder and a forbidding scowl on his face.
Then who was now fighting off Martin?
Montgomery finished the lad he’d been fighting, then ran over to the corner of the hall and jerked Phillip away.
Only it wasn’t Phillip.
By the very saints in heaven, ’twas Pippa.
Pippa gasped, then shoved him aside just before Martin’s blade would have gone through his belly. Martin pulled back for another thrust, then there was the sound of a slap. Montgomery looked and saw the haft of a knife sticking out of Martin’s chest. ’Twas a very nice knife, golden handled and adorned with all manner of important-looking engravings. Montgomery looked over his shoulder in surprise. His brother was leaning back against the lord’s table looking utterly bored. Robin de Piaget, at his most dangerous.
Robin waggled his fingers negligently.
Montgomery vowed to thank Robin and Pippa later but he had too much to do at present to attempt it. He looked back at Pippa, then felt terror slam into him. Pippa had stepped away from the wall—only to have someone creep up behind her.
He reached out and pulled her behind him, then raised his sword against her attacker only to find that soul suddenly impaled on his sword. The lad’s hood fell back from his face to reveal not a lad, but Ada herself. Montgomery pulled his sword free of her body, feeling slightly ill at the sight, only to find Everard of Chevington standing there with a smirk on his face.
“I didn’t think you slew women,” he drawled.
Montgomery pushed Pippa behind him, then looked quickly for aid. Phillip was standing at his elbow with his sword in one hand and a knife in the other. Robin was, as it happened, now standing but a handful of paces away from his son. Montgomery exchanged a look with his brother, then turned to his own business. He threw himself at Everard furiously, forcing him back to the hall door where he rid him of his sword. He put the tip of his sword against Everard’s throat.
“Go in peace,” he said in a low voice, “or stay and meet your end in my hall.”
Everard jerked his head back, then stepped away from death. “You’ll regret this.”
Montgomery suspected he might, but he said nothing; he only watched as Everard backed away, then picked up his sword and ran across the courtyard. Montgomery supposed he might regret not having killed him, but something had stopped him.
He supposed that sort of mercy might catch him up one day.
He watched two other lads slip through the shadows as if they had something particular to accomplish. They weren’t his men, but he couldn’t have said whose they were. He turned back to the hall only to run bodily into his brother who was also watching those lads.
“Yours?” Montgomery asked.
Robin only lifted an eyebrow briefly. “You’d best go protect your lady, considering she kept that bloody Martin from sticking a sword into your back. You can thank me for her exceptional swordplay, you know.”
“Indeed?” Montgomery asked in surprise.
“Indeed. She wanted a special little something for Martin. I do believe she suspected he meant you harm.”
“How did she know that?”
Robin leaned close. “A ghost told her.”
Montgomery felt his mouth fall open.
Robin laughed and walked back into the hall. “Who’s left for me?” he bellowed. “By the saints, this has been a tedious battle with a depressing lack of skill shown!”
Montgomery smiled to himself, then strode back along the wall to stop near Pippa, then pull her behind him whilst the last pair of traitors were collected and added to the group standing in front of the hearth.
�
��You’re crushing me,” she squeaked.
He gave her a bit more room, but put his arm behind him and pulled her against his back. “I’m allowing you to hold me up,” he said weakly. “By the saints, Persephone, I didn’t expect to see you here in the midst of this madness.” He shivered. “Martin would have killed me if you hadn’t been here.”
“He would have, the liar,” she said with a snort. “No, don’t turn around.” She patted his back, then slipped out from behind him. “Gotta go. I’ll tell you everything later.”
He would have stopped her, but he was suddenly in the midst of backslapping from his men and howls of outrage from Gunnild. He ordered his men to escort Gunnild out to the lone intact guard chamber in the outer gates, then turned toward the midst of the hall in time to see Pippa running past Robin toward the kitchens. Robin looked at him, shrugged, then exchanged a laugh with Petter over something before he too left through the kitchens.
Montgomery took stock. There were three guardsmen left, huddled uselessly in a corner. Petter and his lads were enjoying something François’s lads had brought them to drink, and Fitzpiers, Maurice, and Phillip were standing in a cluster, looking terribly fierce. He made certain Ranulf could manage the inside of the hall, then took himself out down the passageway and through the kitchens.
He caught someone slipping out a hole in his foundation just before he—or she, rather—managed it.
“Let me go,” Pippa said breathlessly. “I’m arriving tomorrow with a contingent of nobility.”
Montgomery felt a little breathless himself. “You came.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m assuming you wanted me to.”
He leaned forward and kissed her almost as thoroughly as he dared. “I believe the fact that we’re betrothed sheds light on that.”
“I don’t think you got quite around to that betrothing part, buster.”
He smiled. “I’ll remedy that as soon as possible.” He kept hold of her by means of an arm around her waist, then sat on the edge of the rock. “Whom shall I expect on the morrow?”
“Persephone, the lady of Alki,” she said, making herself at home on the rock with him. “Your brother was good enough to provide an escort for me.”
“I imagine he was.”
“He also brought a collection of unencumbered garrison knights who were tired of the damp, a few more horses, and some things to unpack in your kitchen.”
He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help himself. “And what did you bring besides your own sweet self?”
“Why would you think I’d brought you anything?” she asked archly.
He pursed his lips. “You’ve obviously spent too much time with my brother because you’re beginning to sound like him. And the reason I imagined you brought something with you is because you’re intimately acquainted with my sad addiction to all things twenty-first century.”
She kissed him quickly then pulled away and stood on the opposite side of his wall. “Hope the trunk in your solar has a good lock.”
“Pippa,” he said, reaching for her hand before she could escape entirely.
“Aye, my lord?”
He smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
“Oh, nay, not any more of this,” said a voice from the other side of the wall. Robin’s face appeared in the torchlight. “I had a delicious meal at Grandmere’s this morn and I don’t want to lose it. Come along, Persephone, before I’m too nauseated to stagger away from this rat-infested hole.”
“Robin?” Montgomery said.
“Aye?”
“Shut up.”
Pippa laughed, slipped her arm through Robin’s, then waved at Montgomery before she walked off with his brother to what Montgomery could see was a very luxurious, well-guarded, and quite enormous camp.
“Still time to bolt,” Robin said loudly.
“Not a chance,” she said, just as loudly.
Montgomery was going to kill his brother. After he thanked him for several things, namely his very useful and quite critical aid not an hour ago.
“He is besotted beyond all reason,” Robin bellowed. “If you didn’t agree to wed him, he would spend his days pacing a trench in front of his hall, waiting for you to change your mind.”
Pippa looked over her shoulder. Even in the faint moonlight he could see the expression of affection on her face. Aye, he would have. If he’d been alive to do so.
He waited for them to disappear into the darkness, then sighed and sat on the edge of the hole. He looked out over his keep and found that it was suddenly quite a bit more full of light than it had been but an hour ago.
It was all because of Pippa.
He smiled to himself, then heaved himself to his feet and walked across his courtyard. The princess had come to rescue the prince. Preparing the hall for her reception on the morrow was the very least he could do in return.
He was very grateful to be alive to do so.
Chapter 32
Pippa sat on the horse Robin had loaned her, took a deep breath, then looked around her and was overcome yet again by the generosity of her future in-laws.
Anne and Amanda had taken her under their wings that first afternoon at Artane and pressed on her every conceivable medieval frill. She might have been lacking hot showers and bagels, but she had enjoyed luxury camping, perfectly delicious meals, and the company of souls who loved Montgomery very much and were full of stories about him they thought she should know. Robin’s were told, she had been convinced during a lesson or two in swordplay, to help her see the error of her ways. Jake, Amanda, and Anne told her only what they thought would convince her she was doing the right thing—not that she’d needed any convincing.
She supposed she would have time enough in the future to talk to Jake about his adventures, find out how Jennifer had survived without chocolate, and meet Abigail, who was apparently married to Montgomery’s brother Miles.
“Paranormal oddities,” Robin had said, more than once, with a knowing nod, also more than once.
Pippa wasn’t going to wish those oddities to be anything but what her mother would have said they were: the long, long reach of Karma finally delivering on what had been paid for in advance.
Then again, perhaps that was giving credit where it wasn’t due. She wasn’t sure even Karma could manage to deliver something as wonderful as a man who paced in front of his barbican as he waited for his future bride to arrive.
Montgomery strode down his bridge, then hopped off the end and walked over to take the bridle of her horse. He smiled up at her. “Good morrow to you, my lady.”
Pippa almost fell off her horse into his arms, but Robin cleared his throat so loudly that she didn’t dare. She contented herself with looking at the man she loved and being grateful that she was two feet from him instead of eight centuries. She held her hand down and had a lingering kiss on the palm for her trouble.
“Oh, by the saints, none of this,” Robin said, urging his horse forward and almost sending Montgomery into the moat. “This is the lady of Alki, and she isn’t accustomed to such familiarities. I can see I’ll need to sit between the two of you constantly until the wedding. And as you can see by my company, Montgomery my lad, we’ve come for a long engagement.”
“Not unless you’ve brought food, you haven’t,” Montgomery said pointedly.
Robin pointed over his shoulder at a wagon behind him. “Compliments of Grandmère, who would like to come but is feeling poorly. She sends her good wishes, things for your lady’s pleasure, and a demand that you both present yourselves at her hall as soon after the wedding as possible. Nicholas, Jennifer, and the lads are a day behind me, as well as Miles, Abigail, and their terrifying brood. Nick sent a message to Mother and Father, who have invited you to come eat through their larder after you’ve made the required visit to Segrave. I believe they have extended their hospitality to last through the restoration of your hovel here. I understand Isabelle has also issued an
invitation for a lengthy stay where you might sun yourself amongst her grapes.”
“Very generous of them all,” Montgomery said.
Robin pursed his lips. “Aye, think of me fondly whilst you’re in lovely France and I’m freezing my sorry arse off in the north.”
“I will,” Montgomery promised, then he promptly ignored his brother in favor of Pippa.
Pippa tried not to blush profusely as Montgomery led her horse across the bridge as if she had indeed been a very fine lady. It was difficult to access her inner diva while on horseback where she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t land facedown in courtyard muck, but she did the best she could. She couldn’t say that she wasn’t profoundly relieved to put her hands on Montgomery’s shoulders and let him help her off her horse.
“No kissing,” Robin bellowed from behind them.
Montgomery bent and whispered in her ear. “Do you know who he reminds me of?”
“Kendrick?”
“Exactly, the poor lad.”
She laughed and pulled away from him before she was the one who would be creating rumors about her entirely inappropriate pre-wedding behavior.
“I suppose you could wed her here in the stables,” Robin said distinctly. “Don’t see any holes in these walls.”
Montgomery took a deep breath, no doubt counting to ten at the same time. “I’m going to kill him.”
“He got me here without trouble,” Pippa said. “That might earn him a reprieve.”
“A temporary one,” Montgomery agreed. He looked at the wagons behind her. “What, love, did you bring in those other wagons?”
“All kinds of stuff,” Pippa said, “including Robin’s bed. He wasn’t going to sleep in one of yours—”
She would have finished her sentence, but Montgomery had pulled her behind him and drawn his sword. She put her hands on his back, then peeked around him in time to see a rider come thundering into the courtyard. It wasn’t one of Robin’s men because he was wearing the wrong colors.
“Who is that?” she asked uneasily.
“Bloody hell,” Robin wheezed. “ ’ Tis Henry’s messenger.” He leapt down off his horse. “Where can I hide?”