Battle Cry and The Berserker

by C. L. Scholey

  Juliette looked up at him at a loss. She had no idea who would risk the wrath of such an amazingly powerful warrior. Most assuredly it must be someone completely daft!

  * * * *

  Rory prowled around his chamber restlessly. He picked up Constantine’s pillow and breathed deeply her sweet scent. His head bowed dejectedly. He wanted nothing more than to take her small body into his embrace and hold her clasped tight to his chest. She would know beyond doubt she was then safe from harm. He slumped upon the bed, his head resting within his hands.

  “My lord?” came a cautious voice.

  Rory looked up as Mary hesitantly entered the room. She took in his lost expression, his devastation, and aloneness. She felt guilt consume her. “You care for the lass,” she said awed.

  “Aye, Mary,” he replied.

  “Yet you worked her to exhaustion,” Mary said with an air of confusion.

  “Nay, Mary, she sought the work to help her deal with the loss of her dear sister,” Rory said. A revelation dawned as to why his people were so aggrieved with him.

  “Her bruising?” Mary asked.

  “A terrible mistake,” Rory answered, consumed with guilt. Aye, he had bruised her. Another mark against him.

  “You threatened her in the great hall, we all heard,” Mary said, trying to understand.

  “Nay, Mary. No threats have I uttered to her. We were sorely pressed to hear over the noise she created ’tis all,” Rory said on a sigh. He returned the pillow to its place of rest and ran a large hand over his face.

  “I fear we have been unjust, my lord. In seeking to aid our dear lady we have placed her very heart at risk,” Mary said saddened. The harder she thought, the more she realized the Lady Constantine’s bravery was based in love and trust, and perhaps the longing of her sister as her lord suggested.

  “Mary, do you know of your ladies whereabouts?” Rory said with hesitant excitement. He approached her carefully, without any animosity lest he frighten her.

  “Aye, my lord. Never fear, she is fine. We too care for her a great deal and would not put her in danger. She but remains in the care of Lord Nicholas Christopher. Lady Juliette’s own betrothed,” Mary said, now smiling.

  Bewildered at first, Rory’s first reaction was to grab up his steed, race to the castle and run the man through. Yet he realized the man most probably had Juliette’s wellbeing in mind. Damnation, if the man cared for Juliette this much, he would never let the lass go. Poor Constantine. Perhaps they could put aside this one transgression and allow their little wives to visit after all.

  Rory’s first concern was to retrieve Constantine. He hoped she had not been as frightened as Juliette had been. He would then indeed be forced to run the man through. Perhaps they could meet on the field. The king would not be overly happy if they were to do damage to one another. He must take some time to think on a plan. Lord Christopher’s army was impressive. If Rory were the only one to enter into battle he would be demolished. That could not be helped. He would not risk his brother’s life. Rory would go alone. He would eat, rest, and face his opponents. Though positive his dearest wife must be terrified without him close by, Rory felt certain Lord Christopher would not dare harm one so defenseless. There would be no honor in that. Lord Campbell would not wed a daughter of his to one who possessed no honor, he was certain.

  * * * *

  Juliette was shown to a lovely chamber down the hall from Devon. After they dined, Devon led her through the halls, her small hand poised upon his arm. Rory had chosen to eat in his own chamber. They walked into the large room where the hearth burnt brightly against the cold companionably and Juliette turned to stare up into his face. She noticed how truly remarkable his features were. His wavy blond locks glowed in the torchlight. Juliette had never gazed into such clear blue eyes. She was also impressed her pummeling of his nose had left no mark. Most assuredly, he must be very strong not to have been bruised by her vicious and deadly assault.

  “I am sorry if I hurt you,” Juliette said in earnest. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Her emotions became confused.

  “I am uninjured, fear not. Yet whether I am still able to sire offspring remains to be seen,” Devon replied with a smile.

  “It would be a shame, my lord, if you proved unable. The earth would be deprived of such comely children,” Juliette said ducking her head.

  “Fear not, my lady, I will endeavor to procreate,” Devon said and laughed as she blushed deeply.

  “Of this I am certain,” Juliette replied.

  Devon kissed her hand and bid her goodnight. He closed her door behind him whilst Mary aided her with her night clothes.

  “’Tis you who sent word of my sister,” Juliette enquired of Mary.

  “Aye, my lady. Please do not think harshly of me. My actions were noble if unfounded,” she replied with embarrassment. “I have come to care a great deal for your gentle sister. Actions transpired that led me to believe she was being ill-treated.”

  “She was not,” Juliette said with conviction. She could not get Lord Broc’s agonized expression from her mind.

  “Nay, my lady. Please forgive me. I only sought to protect her,” Mary replied, so terribly saddened Juliette had not the heart to be angry.

  “’Tis not my forgiveness you needs must seek. Knowing my sister she would not begrudge a mistake made of caring,” Juliette said kindly.

  Mary offered her a smile so filled with gratitude Juliette could not resist hugging the woman. She then left Juliette alone to seek her slumber.

  * * * *

  “Do not fret so, my brother. No one would dare harm her,” Devon said.

  “No, they would dare not,” Rory replied, eyes narrowed.

  Devon was hard-pressed not to shudder at Rory’s intensity. He sat at the great table sharpening his broad sword with long easy strokes. Rory’s gaze was centered. His thoughts focused.

  “I am truly sorry brother,” Devon said.

  “’Tis nothing,” Rory replied.

  Devon knew it was. He had been betrayed by his own people. Those he had sworn to protect. They had allowed another to take his gentle wife knowing she would be afraid and unable to defend herself. Taken her callously while he was away and had only offered to aid in her wellbeing. He cared nothing they only sought to protect her in their ignorance. They had not even bothered to confront him they were so cowardly.

  “What do you intend?” Devon asked.

  “I intend to retrieve my wife,” Rory ground out. He was not in the mood for a discussion.

  “Brother,” Devon began.

  “What, brother?” Rory suddenly snapped; his head rose to offer Devon a foreboding look. “I return home and am outraged that my people suffer. Little ones are gaunt and in need of clothing. Homes falling apart, the castle a mess. Winter is approaching, nipping at heels, and I saw the distress. I had hoped their fear of me would lessen not intensify. I acquire a wife of wealth for them, not even having laid eyes upon her, hoping to gain a dowry that would ensure their existence. I strive to show my men I will fight alongside them without failing if needs be. I only ask loyalty. ’Tis so much to ask? I will retrieve my beloved Constantine alone.”

  “Nay, you will not face an entire army alone!” Devon cried fearfully. “I will stand with you.”

  “Nay, my dearest brother. I have already lost my wife. I could not stand the loss of my brother and best friend as well,” Rory said. “I need time to plan.” Rory rose to his feet and placed a hand on Devon’s shoulder. He then walked from the hall solemnly and retired for the night.

  Devon also rose to leave. His head slumped forward dejectedly. He knew not what to do.

  Another had been in the shadows watching in silence. She gritted her teeth with conviction. This terrible wrong must be righted. They had judged him even before they had met him. Mary left the castle on swift feet, thoughts of slumber forgotten, she too needed time to plan. They had been sorely unfair to their lord. This must not continue. Sh
e had much work that needs must be done.

  * * * *

  Mary was not the only one to be slinking amongst the castle grounds in the early hours. Rosecliff felt gratified he remained undiscovered. The entire castle seemed to be in an upheaval. Rosecliff only prayed it was not due to the Lady Juliette’s excessive use of vocal cords, although it would serve Broc right. He should never have stolen his lord’s betrothed. Though the thought still nagged that Broc might have done them a favor. Nevertheless, Rosecliff was on a quest for his lord. He needs must discover if the Lady Juliette did indeed bay like ten packs of wolves at a full moon.

  Stealthily, Rosecliff wandered the halls until he had come about Broc’s brother helping Juliette retire for the night in the late evening. Their exchange had been brief which led Rosecliff to ponder yet again. He himself would strive to engage in conversation with one so beautiful. Perhaps Broc’s brother was daft. Rosecliff remained pressed near a wall until the serving maid retired. He waited, biding his time until before dusk, when the castle settled, until he felt certain Lady Juliette slumbered. He then, with stealth, approached her room. Rosecliff opened her chamber door. He entered quietly and could hear the lass’s softly expelled breath. On careful feet, he made his way to the bed. Juliette lay sleeping. Her angelic features bathed in the moonlight. Rosecliff smiled down at her still form. How beautiful she was. Whether or not she bellowed as one dying as if tortured, he could not help but feel sympathy for her. Poor lass would no doubt be terrified of him. He was so much larger than the gentle child. He must painstakingly go to great measures so as not to frighten her. Rosecliff placed a gentle large hand over Juliette’s mouth.

  She awoke instantly. Juliette could make out the man’s large features in silhouette against the lone candle light and slightly flickering hearth fire. She was unaware of his identity and Juliette became frightened. Fearing another kidnapping was eminent, Juliette waited not. Both small feet came up swiftly and deftly slammed into her aggressor’s belly. Aware from her last attack she had not much time, Juliette took hold and plunged her sharp teeth into the man’s hand. He pulled back to disengage her and managed to successfully dislodge her grip. Juliette lunged directly for the man’s hair feeling this was still the greatest tactical move.

  Rosecliff howled, taken off guard by her vicious assault, ’twas not a woman but a demon come to life! He danced back quickly while Juliette clung to his hair swinging wildly about the room. Rosecliff grabbed at her wrists to release the pressure on his hair yet was unprepared as Juliette slammed her foot solidly into his groin. Groaning loudly Rosecliff doubled over and slumped to the cold floor.

  “Has it never occurred to you just to yell?” Devon enquired. He stood nonchalantly, hair tousled from sleep, in his breeches, bare chested, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his massive chest. At first hearing the struggles emanating from Juliette’s room, he was concerned and had raced to save her. Though seeing the distress of the poor man, Devon felt a certain empathy for him.

  “You could have offered aid.” Juliette glared at him, breathing heavily.

  “How true. My good man, do you require aid?” Devon asked down at Rosecliff as he groaned once more.

  “Be serious,” Juliette yelled outraged.

  “I am serious, my dear. The poor man looks as though he will never sire children,” Devon said and smiled deviously. Indeed, poor Rosecliff still rolled about on the floor in agony.

  “She has killed me,” he squeaked.

  “Nonsense man, she has not killed you. That privilege belongs to my brother,” Devon informed him grimly. He put a hand under the man’s arm and pulled him to his feet. He then made his way to the door.

  “What about me?” Juliette demanded as the men moved toward the door, her face reddened in frustration and embarrassment, she stomped a foot.

  “Does thou thirst for more action, my little berserker? Perhaps later today you could decapitate some hapless nights. Or tussle with a bear. How does thou feel about wrestling with wild boars?” Devon laughed and ducked, slamming her door as a hairbrush was thrown wildly at him.

  * * * *

  “What do you here?” Rory demanded angrily as the sun rose, dressing, while his brother brought a strange man into his bed chambers. He had only just fallen asleep so great was his worry for his beloved. Only to be awakened by a new threat. Again his people had let him down by allowing yet another intruder to breach his walls.

  Rosecliff shrank back terrified. The man looked wild. He had been told of Broc’s reputation. He did not want his head mounted and paraded around on a pike for all to see.

  “I only bring word to Lady Juliette,” he whimpered. “Please, my lord, have mercy.”

  “What word have you?” Rory asked coldly. It was no doubt how to sneak Juliette away.

  Rosecliff shuddered. He had no choice. “My lord seeks to know of Juliette’s...”

  “Juliette’s what?” Rory demanded.

  “Her...voice.”

  Confused, Rory stopped his tirade. Her voice? What was this nonsense?

  “What mean you he seeks to know of her voice?” Rory growled, now positive the man was stalling.

  “’Tis the truth, my lord, this I swear,” Rosecliff whined. “Lord Christopher only wished to seek if the Lady Juliette suffers from the same ailment as your wife.”

  “My lady wife is ill?” Rory asked with tremendous concern.

  “She howls as one possessed. We have never heard the like. I fear the dead would rise again just to run. By the Saints, my lord, never has candle wax been so coveted, for one’s ears. I meant not to take Juliette, just ask her if she but howls as her sister. This I swear.” Rosecliff replied anxiously.

  Devon threw back his head and howled with laughter. “’Tis not the sweet Juliette’s voice he needs must fear but her prowess. The lass fights like a mad wolf.”

  Rory narrowed his eyes at him. “Be still brother, think you this is amusing? My poor wife only howls when in distress.”

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but ’tis Lord Christopher’s castle that is distressed,” Rosecliff answered annoyed. Most certainly his lord had never sought to purposely upset the banshee. He took offence Broc even thought such a thing.

  Rory settled vicious eyes on the man who took note and shrunk back now terrified. “If any harm has come to my wife I will disembowel you. Tell me quickly how she fares.”

  “She is well, my lord, I swear. She has been harmed not. Lord Nicholas only feared you would not take her back.” Rosecliff whimpered.

  “Why would he think such a thing?” Rory asked incredulous. “She is my wife.”

  “’Tis her caterwauling. When she lets loose, all reach for their swords fearing an attack is eminent. I am most certain half the castle is now deaf. Truly you wish her return?”

  Rory grabbed the man up off his feet and glared deeply into his frightened eyes. “You tell your lord I demand the safe return of my wife. Send a message we are to meet on the field tomorrow after daybreak. Return swiftly or I will seek you out with your demise of the most importance on my mind. Do you understand?”

  Rosecliff nodded quickly. He was then escorted roughly from the castle by both men.

  “Think you he was lying?” Devon asked, a frown to his face.

  “Nay, brother. Truly, who would make up such a ludicrous tale?” Rory replied.

  “I have met Lord Christopher during the tournaments. He seems a decent enough sort of fellow. Perhaps he will allow Juliette to visit,” Devon said.

  “Perhaps.”

  “What think you Rory?”

  “I have an uneasy feeling about Constantine.”

  “Most certainly Lord Christopher will not cause her harm. Do not fret.”

  “’Tis not that brother. My little wife may try and wreak some havoc on her own. He had best keep a close eye on her. Or I will be sorely vexed if she inadvertently causes herself harm.” Rory’s gaze again turned murderous. He could not shake the feeling poor Constantine
was huddled in the shadows fearful without him. He was beginning his plans for her safe return.

  * * * *

  “Gregory, ’tis a mess. Constantine has been taken, I am told, to Lord Christopher’s, whilst Juliette now resides with Lord Broc. Have they all gone mad? Stealing two defenseless lasses in the middle of the night. What the devil are they about?” Emit cried and continued to pace erratically about the room.

  “Calm yourself my friend. No harm has come to either. I am told both are quite well and causing their own damage,” Lord Campbell said soothingly. It was so like Emit to fuss as a mother hen.

  “How can you remain so calm? The poor children are most likely terrified and sobbing somewhere all alone.” Emit ceased his pacing and looked close to shedding a few tears of his own. Though he knew the girls thought of him as overbearing, he remained steadfast in his conviction it had been in their best interest. He most assuredly loved them both. They were as close as he would ever get to having children of his own.

  “Most certainly our dearest Constantine will be alone if she has been moved to tears,” Gregory said and chuckled.

  “Oh my, think you she has howled?” Emit asked, eyes raised.

  “Most certainly. I am told Lord Christopher’s household runs for cover when she but approaches,” Gregory replied.

  “Oh dear.”

  “I am also told Lord Broc’s men have taken to wearing protective devices when coming within reach of our gentle little Juliette.”

  Emit scowled. Though happy Juliette appeared to be able to handle herself, the method was a bit un-seemly. He had not been happy at all one of their castle knights had endeavored to teach Juliette that particular move along with a few others. The gentle seasoned bear of a knight had daughters of his own and knew the perils some women faced. Regardless, Emit had thought it would only cause trouble in the future. Fortunately Constantine sought not the same activity. He was certain one bellow from her lips and the entire castle... if not those for miles, would come to her aid. Or perhaps by that time it would be her attacker who would require aid of his own.