Battle Cry and The Berserker

by C. L. Scholey

  “Would you like to see Juliette soon?” Nicholas asked, changing tactics.

  Constantine’s expression changed. She would love to see her sister. Poor Juliette, had she come to understand how strange her betrothed was? Perhaps it would be wise to inform her. “Truly I will see Juliette?”

  “On my honor,” Nicolas replied and put as much heartfelt enthusiasm into his voice and smile as he could muster. He became happy at Constantine’s own smile of overwhelming gratitude. That was much better. But still he would be ever careful of the quiet young lass. Her terrible fear of him would lessen soon he was certain now.

  Constantine shuddered at Lord Christopher’s lopsided grin. Though he was a handsome man, for some outrageous reason he reminded her of Puddles, Uncle Emit’s slobbering old slack-wit hound. Constantine swore the dog offered the same type of confused dim-witted expression. She offered her own hesitant smile. She would suffer through the ride, but once with Juliette, she would promptly inform her that the man was daft. Drat.

  * * * *

  Lord Christopher’s castle was truly grand. He paraded Constantine around at his side as though she were some prize conquest. With flourish he showed her to ‘her’ room. Once inside the chamber, Nicolas opened an armoire filled with lovely gowns for her inspection, he even offered up a few for her admiration. He informed her he would buy her many more. She would be happy under his protection.

  Constantine became angry. Was she to stay here as his plaything? What kind of man wanted to engage in dress up with a woman?

  “Rory will come for me,” Constantine informed him petulantly. Indeed, Rory would come. He would then save both her and her sister. Constantine could not stand the thought of poor Juliette married to this man.

  “Never fear, my lady. I will keep you safe,” Nicolas said, his tone soothing. Constantine glared at him. But he had that idiotic lopsided grin on his face once more. Before she knew what he was about, he gripped hold of her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.

  “Never fear. I will retrieve Juliette and reunite the two of you. You will be happy living in my home. Now, you must consider it your home.” He gave her a light kiss to her temple, spun around, and was gone before she could respond.

  * * * *

  With the help of serving maids, Constantine was dressed in a lovely long-flowing deep green gown. At her approach of the great table, Lord Christopher came and took her small hand in his. The maids had informed Nicholas Constantine was overly quiet while she had been dressed. They tried to solicit even a meager response to no avail.

  As the day had progressed Constantine had an ever-growing concern that perhaps Lord Christopher had not been entirely truthful with her about him fetching dearest Juliette. Only time would tell. She also desperately missed her Rory. He must have discovered her absence by now. How the castle guards would explain this, she had no idea. Constantine was positive they had been discovered, though why no alarm sounded had her confused. For one brief terrifying second, Constantine thought perhaps Rory knew what was to take place. He had conveniently left the castle with Devon, leaving her unprotected. But what would he gain? He already had her dowry. Perhaps he just wanted to be rid of her. He harped overmuch on her use of excessive noise when distressed. Certainly it was not enough for him to want to be rid of her. Was it? What could Lord Christopher gain if she were to reside with him?

  Constantine thought hard. She refused to believe Rory would desert her. Though the thought plagued her still. Her lands would not pass to Rory until her father died. Could Lord Christopher acquire the lands through his marriage to Juliette if she were gone? A terrible thought entered her mind. What if Rory were to be accused of foul play if she went missing and her father declared her wealth and titles null and void. Upon his marriage to her sister Lord Christopher would have it all. Was this possible? Why keep her alive? Perhaps he did just want her as a plaything. He fully intended to keep her here, and he had already admitted his intentions. Perhaps he would use her to keep Juliette from interfering. Perhaps Juliette had not wanted to wed him at all. Lord Christopher could use Constantine to make her sister obey; Juliette would do anything for her.

  Constantine’s thoughts raced wildly. At least she would be able to see Juliette again. Yet how would she ever be able to cope with the loss of Rory? She was angry with herself for thinking of him unjustly if even only for a brief moment. Lord Christopher must want her wealth, she felt positive. What would he do with her? If she disobeyed in the slightest, would she be locked away or starved? Would he beat her?

  * * * *

  Nicholas gazed thoughtfully at Constantine as she sat quietly beside him. Her look was pensive, and Nicholas thought she must be feeling very alone and frightened. But soon enough she would be feeling better. He had sent word to Juliette and waited for his messengers return. They would know soon enough as to when Juliette would arrive.

  “Eat, lass,” Nicholas encouraged. Her food remained untouched. He lifted her chin with his hand and smiled at her lost lonely expression.

  “I am too saddened and...afraid,” Constantine confided. She was battling her tears.

  “Fret not lass, we only wait for word of your sister,” Nicholas informed her.

  “Truly?” Constantine asked, her brown eyes skeptical and huge with unshed moisture.

  “We should know of her arrival within the hour,” Nicholas said with a smile.

  Yes indeed, his messenger would arrive and Constantine would lavish praise upon him for saving her and reuniting her with Juliette. He could hardly wait. It would be nice to have two beautiful women fawning and fussing over him. Nicholas smiled broadly. Everything was falling neatly into place.

  * * * *

  Constantine continued to sit, growing sadder by the moment. She looked at her trencher of unappetizing food. She thought perhaps it might taste better if Rory were at her side. She sniffed delicately; a small tear trailed its way down her cheek and dripped silently from her chin, landing upon her lap, soaking into her beautiful gown.

  Taking note of this, Nicholas became visibly distressed. Nicholas jumped to his feet as his messenger unexpectedly entered the great hall. He raced to him wanting the news he sought that would calm little Lady Constantine.

  “What news have you?” Nicholas demanded with great anticipation, almost dancing with unrestrained delight.

  “’Tis not good, my lord,” the young man informed him.

  “What mean you, not good?” Nicholas had a sudden sinking feeling in his belly, and his body stilled with sudden apprehension.

  “I fear the Lady Juliette was not there,” the young man informed him.

  “What mean you, not there?” Nicholas all but spluttered.

  The man stepped back a pace. Nicholas grabbed him by his shirtfront, dragging him closer. Nicholas towered over the shaking man. In his flustered state, Nicholas lifted the smaller man up off his feet. He widened his eyes as he waited to hear the rest from the man. His actions seemed almost wild at his distress. He needed to calm the Lady Constantine. Hearing her sister was gone would not calm her at all.

  “She was gone, my lord, taken,” the frightened man cried out.

  “By whom?” Nicholas thundered, now enraged. Who would dare risk his wrath by taking his betrothed?

  * * * *

  Constantine knew. Rory’s quest was to fetch her sister for her, she felt certain. He did love her, yet now she was here all alone with a man whose face grew redder by the moment. Juliette would not come to save her from her daft and mad betrothed. Rory would never again put his comforting arms around her. They would never again make love. Oh, the pain of her loss was unbearable...

  “Waahhh.”

  * * * *

  Nicholas released his hold on the frightened man before him dropping him to the ground like a sack. His hand went to his sword hilt. God have mercy they were under attack! By the Saints, Nicholas had never heard such a battle cry. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could not believe it. He, Lord Chris
topher, was actually fearful. A terrible thought raced through his mind. If he were so distressed, the Lady Constantine must be absolutely terrified. Could it possibly be Broc? The eerie howl was bellowed out again.

  “Fear not, Constantine, I will protect you!” Nicholas cried and raced to her.

  Constantine had only paused for a breath as Lord Christopher threw her over his shoulder. He raced madly with her from the hall. Constantine was terrified. She knew Lord Christopher was enraged. What would he do with her? Now that he no longer would be able to get Juliette, holding her hostage would render his need of her moot. Constantine regained the breath that had been knocked out of her at Lord Christopher’s manhandling. She bellowed again.

  Nicholas raced wildly with Constantine slung over his shoulder. The battle cry again sounded.

  “By God, ’tis closer. They must have somehow breached the walls. Never fear, Constantine, I have you,” Nicholas shouted. He raced for the tower hoping to secure her inside. He would then join his army and engage in the first real battle of his life.

  Nicholas took the steps two at a time. Seeing his intent and noticing the sharp incline had Constantine bellowing again. He meant to lock her away. Worse still, he might throw her from the high tower. She was doomed.

  Nicholas raced to the top of the stairs. His heart pounding in his chest. God have mercy, but this was exciting: saving the fair damsel, while a battle rages all around. The battle cry sounded once more. By the Saints it sounded right behind him. Had they stormed the castle? Their army must be great indeed. Nicholas raced into the high room and slammed the solid door closed. He must catch his breath and regain his composure. He placed Constantine on a mound of straw and drew his sword. He was ready.

  Constantine took in his wild crazed features. His huge body near trembled from exertion. Lord Christopher’s look was murderous. He was about to run her through, she was certain. Constantine threw back her head and howled as she had never before howled.

  Completely stunned that the God-awful noise was not in fact a battle cry, but was originating from none other than the Lady Constantine’s own mouth, Nicholas fled backward. In his haste to escape from the sound, he turned quickly tripping over his own feet. Ever agile, he was up in a flash racing for the door, his hair near standing on end. Opening the heavy door, Nicholas threw himself into the hallway almost running over his squire who had followed his lord and slammed the door behind himself. Nicholas leaned up against the door, his arms spread wide as if to bar Constantine’s escape.

  “By the Saints, she is possessed! I have never heard the like! I felt certain her head was about to spin round!” Nicholas rasped. His face had drained a deathly pale. He clamped his jaw closed tightly lest his teeth chatter.

  “Calm yourself, my lord, ’tis only a woman,” the young man said soothingly. Though after hearing the howls it was easy to agree. It was truly a remarkable sound.

  “Damnation, I have been tricked. Broc wished the banshee to be taken so he could steal the quiet gentle one,” Nicholas mumbled aggrieved, he felt positive. Now he knew why he had escaped detection. It was not his stealth but stupidity. Perhaps the lass had not been abused at all. He had in fact saved Lord Broc.

  “My lord, she quiets,” the squire near whispered, his ears cocked, listening.

  Nicholas pressed his ear to the hard door. The howling had ceased, but great sobbing remained. Not a cruel man by nature, Nicholas was at a loss. Her weeping distressed him, yet he was fearful of her bellowing. Cautiously he opened the door and peeked in.

  “Constantine? Be ye through your attempt to deafen us?” Nicholas whispered into the chamber.

  She did not answer. With caution Nicholas stepped through the door and approached her with hesitation. Constantine was slumped in the straw, her hands covering her face. When she looked up at him terrified, Nicholas stopped short and splayed his hands wide.

  “No, no. Please, my lady, do not bellow again, I beg you. I am unarmed against your voice,” Nicholas implored.

  “You frightened me,” Constantine whimpered accusingly.

  Nicholas’s eyes shot up at that. She was one to talk! His heart still pounded. There was not a brush in the land that could flatten his hair, he felt certain.

  “Come now, Constantine, how did I frighten you?” Nicholas questioned.

  Now it was Constantine’s eyes that widen. Drat dim-witted men.

  “You kidnapped me. You refused to produce Juliette. You raged at your messenger, then grabbed me up like an offering. I am terrified of heights, yet you throw me in your tower. Then you draw your sword on me. I am defenseless against one so powerful.” Constantine’s bottom lip quivered ominously.

  “Defenseless?” Nicholas snorted. “I feared we were under attack.”

  Nicholas squatted on the ground before her. He clasped her chin in his hand and took a firm hold. His look as he glared into her eyes had her breath catch in greater fear.

  “You will tell me the truth, or by God I will lock you in this tower a fortnight. Do you hear and understand?” Nicholas said with certain menace. Constantine swallowed hard and nodded as best she could with her face so firmly held. “Has Lord Broc caused you harm? Has he been overly cruel to you?”

  “Nay, my lord, he has harmed me not,” Constantine whimpered. His fierce gaze bore into her a moment longer before he released his grip.

  Nicholas stood and narrowed his gaze. He was right. He had been duped.

  * * * *

  Nicholas felt positive it was Broc that took Juliette. The harder he thought, the more positive he became that Constantine’s abuse had been but a ruse. Indeed, Lord Broc would have found it difficult to get close enough to the banshee to lay a hand on her. Absently, he wondered if Broc had even attempted to bed the wench. Perhaps if he gagged her first.

  “My lord?” Rosecliff, Nicholas’s steward asked hesitantly.

  Dusk had fallen and both men sat companionably with warmed mugs of ale. Nicholas looked to him, a trusted friend.

  “Aye?”

  “Suppose you, my lord, the Lady Juliette possess the same...ailment?” Rosecliff began with greater hesitancy.

  “What mean you?” Nicholas asked, eyes narrowing.

  “Perhaps healthy lungs are a family trait,” Rosecliff pondered.

  “Nay, not my dearest Juliette...Good God, think you she may?” Nicholas asked aghast. Damnation, he would be rendered deaf on their wedding night.

  “Think you Broc has discovered your transgression?” the steward asked.

  “Aye, and has been laughing with hysterical relief since.” Nicholas growled. Drat the man was indeed a monster.

  “How fares the Lady Constantine?” Rosecliff enquired.

  “Both she and her vocal cords slumber, thank God,” Nicholas replied. Nicholas had only just come from her chamber to make sure all was well. The poor maids that aided her earlier were too fearful to go near her lest she let loose again. Nicholas found it hard to believe someone who looked like an angel in slumber could terrify the devil himself. He ran a quick hand over his tired face.

  “What do you with her?” Rosecliff asked. He knew his lord was angry but she was just a helpless lass after all.

  “I must return her and retrieve Juliette,” Nicholas declared.

  “Vocal cords and all, my lord?” Rosecliff whined.

  “Think you she may actually bellow as an entire army as well?” Nicholas said, then grimaced. His Juliette was beautiful, but beauty would fade. That noise would linger forever...and ever...and ever. Nicholas slammed his mug to the table. “Perhaps a plan of action is called for.”

  “I am at your service, my lord,” Rosecliff replied.

  “I must somehow get word to my dearest Juliette. I needs must find out if the lass bellows like ten handfuls of cats in heat,” Nicholas declared.

  “How, my lord?” Rosecliff asked.

  “You shall aid me,” Nicholas said, his scheming begun.

  The two men leaned closely together. Between them they mu
st devise a way to return Constantine to Broc. They must discover any ailments of Juliette. Their mission weighed heavily between them.

  * * * *

  Constantine awoke with a plan. Nicholas, or Lord Daft, as she referred to him, must take her home and soon. It was apparent he could not tolerate her howling, yet Constantine had no control over its happenings. It only occurred when she became distressed. Though the only other person who was aware of this was now at Braven. It mattered not. Constantine remained resourceful. Though Lord Daft’s anger was fearsome, Constantine had come to the conclusion he meant her no great ill will. He could have caused her tremendous injury when angered yet offered up only threats. Perhaps he coveted her wealth but by God, he would not acquire it. This she swore. With tremendous resolve, Constantine headed for the great hall to break her fast. When none had shown to aid her in her day attire, she paraded about in her bedclothes. Protocol be damned.

  “Constantine, what do you unclothed?” Nicholas asked astounded as she seated herself beside him.

  “I seek sustenance, my lord,” Constantine replied innocently.

  “In your night shift?” Nicholas asked incredulous.

  “None would aid in my apparel,” Constantine replied. Deviously she let her eyes sadden and her bottom lip quiver.

  “Never mind, lass, you look...fine,” Nicholas said brightly. By God, just the sight of that bottom lip in motion was enough to send three seasoned knights fleeing in different directions.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Constantine said, graciously sucking in the offending lip. She smiled happily and began to eat off Lord Christopher’s own trencher. She grinned into Nicholas’s face. “After all, we are family. ’Tis my home now.”