"You are probably right,” Nicholas agreed, as Miles crumpled into a lifeless heap at his feet. He had done things in his life which might keep him from attaining a place in heaven. Lying with Julie was just one of many.
He flung down his sword and bent over, hands on knees, drawing in great gulps of air. With his heart still pounding, he stared at Miles’ lifeless face. Conflicting emotions rose in his heart. This was the companion of his youth, the man who had fought alongside him in his struggle to retain Barstow Castle. The man who had guarded his back while fighting the Saracens.
But the man Miles had become had threatened Edward's safety when first Julianne bore him. He had abducted Julie twice, mistreated his own wife and children, and besieged Barstow Castle. He was a man whose greed consumed any moral convictions he might have held. Though Nicholas had not wanted to slay him, Miles’ pernicious deeds demanded nothing short of death. Surely, God would not hold the death of such a base knight against him.
He rose and placing a foot on the dead man's chest, tugged his blade from the great wound it had made. The speed with which they had come together had produced a force far greater than he could have done alone. One which had rent an excellent quality of chain mail and run clear through the man and out his back.
Sir Edgar limped to his side. “Orders, my lord."
"Aye.” The whole process of settling this mess lay ahead. With Miles dead, Norville's forces would be foolish to oppose his authority. However, he had given these men a chance before. This time he would not be so forgiving.
He looked up on the wall and, in the first rays of the rising sun saw Sir Marcus standing there among the archers. “You, there."
"Sir Marcus, my lord."
"Aye, I remember you from before. Come down here.” His voice rasped from the dryness of his mouth. He swallowed and addressed the wall archers. “Lay down your weapons, men. Some decisions about all of you will be made shortly."
Finally, Sir Marcus appeared, although he obviously did not relish confronting Nicholas.
"You swore allegiance to me last time, unfaithful knight. You broke your word and men are dead because of it. This time there will be punishment."
Marcus blanched. Whirling, he lifted his arm to summon his army.
Nicholas raised his voice even more swiftly, shouting, “You, up there. Lift your bows against us and my army will annihilate you. Stand down, accept my authority and you will be more likely to receive clemency."
A cheer erupted from the wall, as well as from those who had crossed the drawbridge to stand at Miles’ back. No one even looked at the dead lord. How little he had been loved by his own men.
The garrison began to move back into the keep's bailey, followed closely by Nicholas's army, their weapons in hand just in case. Edgar, though he doubtless hurt everywhere from the rough treatment he had received, moved among the men, assigning duties and billeting.
Nicholas left his army in Edgar's capable hands and looked around anxiously. What had happened to Julie? Finally, he spotted her lying on the wet grass, Lily kneeling beside her. He started toward her, but Eldred approached him.
"Harald is badly wounded,” the spy told him.
"Will he live?” Nicholas hoped so. The boy had proved himself a brave knight today.
"A man called Rannulf is carrying him inside,” Eldred added. “Whether he will live or not, is for God to determine."
Nicholas nodded. He had not been wrong in his assessment of Rannulf. “Go help Edgar cope with these people. I'm sure he knows who can be trusted.” Eldred saluted and dashed off.
Then, several of his new mercenary knights appeared to him, asking direction for the men-at-arms. He gave them orders, anxious to set all in motion and be free to attend his wife.
The pouring rain seeped beneath his armor, soaking his gambeson. But all was not so well that he could discard it. A stray arrow from some discontented archer could dispatch him more easily than Miles had.
Then he remembered Eleanor. He told one of the new knights to have Edgar locate her and make sure she was all right. He fervently hoped Miles had not killed her in his frenzied madness.
Finally, he was free to go to Julie. Lily met him halfway.
"My lord, Lady Julianne has delivered her babe."
He hesitated, prolonging the moment of not knowing. At the same time he became aware of the rank smell of his own sweat and the green odor of the trampled wet grass. Grass on which Julie lay. If she died again, it would have been a kindness for Miles to have killed him.
Finally, he gathered his courage. “Julie? Is she living?"
"Yes, Lord Nicholas. The babe, I'm sorry to report, was stillborn."
"A son?” Was it to be the other way around this time, the son dead and the mother alive?
He had dearly wanted the boy, but if Julianne's body lived, they could have another child. Then he noticed the unhappy expression on Lily's face. Why was that? Something was wrong besides the death of the babe.
Forgetting Lily, Nicholas hurried to Julie's side.
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Chapter 26
Nicholas dropped to his knees beside Julie and took her hand.
"How fare you, dearling?” But the answer was apparent. Her thick lashes lay against her pale cheeks and she lay unnaturally still. Just so had Julianne looked after Edward's birth nearly a year ago. And that frightened the hell out of him.
"Do something, Lily,” he commanded, hoping to force her into saving Julie.
The witch shook her head. “I can do no more, Lord Nicholas. It is the bleeding as before."
Nicholas gritted his teeth. “Bloody hell!” The empty void Julie had filled for the last year crept back into his chest. He wanted to howl his rage at whoever was taking her.
He slipped one arm under her head and raised it from the muck. His lovely Julie, birthing their child in the pouring rain, her golden curls encrusted with dirt. It was not to be endured. At least, when Julianne had labored, she had had the dignity of a soft bed in a warm room.
Nicholas settled down in the mud and pulled Julie onto his lap. Laying her head on his shoulder, he held her tightly against him. Every few seconds, she shivered. If only he could give her some of his warmth, some of his blood, some of his life.
He kissed her cold cheek. “It is all right, dearling, you will be fine. I will care for you all the rest of my life. Such as this will never happen again."
She appeared to be asleep, but her breathing was shallow and irregular. His belief, that if he simply loved her enough she would live, began to crumble. Fear reared up like a mighty wave, ready to drown him in its fierce onslaught.
"Julie, open your eyes!” He gave her a gentle shake. Awake, she had a chance. If she slept, death could easily steal her from him.
Images of her laughing face, her fierce rejection of what she called her shrinking violet role in his century, her tactful handling of Lady Beatrix and all the servants, her joy in the wondrous Christmas tree, all rolled through his mind. This procession of memories would be all he would have to comfort him over the years.
He smiled sadly. He had always thought he wanted a woman he could order around, a meek soul who would see to his creature comforts, a woman who would lie placidly beneath him in bed, and bear his children. He had been wrong. He wanted this exciting twenty-first century woman more than life itself.
Lily gripped his shoulder. “It's too late, Lord Nicholas. Nothing has changed and Julianne's body is dying as before. Preventing death is almost impossible, even for a...witch. Which I am not, though you would have it so. Now, we must deal with things as they are. Put Julie down, my lord."
Reluctantly, Nicholas complied, laying Julie back on the wet grass, which had begun to steam from the warmth of the rising sun. Lily pulled back her sleeve, and glanced at something Nicholas had seen in the future, a kind of clock strapped to the wrist.
"Quarter before the hour, so we must hurry,” she murmured, more to herself than him.
"What for?”
he snarled angrily. “Cannot she die fast enough for you?” It was cruel of him, but the ugly words spewed from his lips before he could call them back.
"For more reasons than you could imagine,” she snapped back, surprising him with her vehemence. Before he could remind her of her place, she added softly, “Julianne died at six in the morning. It is now but fifteen minutes till six."
Nicholas felt his anger melt, to be replaced with an intense grief, so strong he could hardly breathe.
"Is naught to be done, Lily?” He still clung to the hope she would once again pull a winning card from her bag of tricks.
Lily shook her head. “We must send Julie to the future or she will die, still encased in Julianne's body."
"Do not send me away.” Julie's weak voice drew their instant attention.
"Sweeting, did you hear what Lily said?"
"Is that true?” Julie's eyes flickered to her friend who nodded.
Nicholas leaned down and grasped her hand. “When you are safe, my love, Lily can bring you back. You can do that, cannot you?” Nicholas glanced up at Lily. To his dismay, her expression was not encouraging.
"I'm sorry, my lord. With Julianne's body dead, Julie would have no place here."
Julie began to sob. Nicholas dropped back to his knees and cradled Julie's head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Remember, dearling, I will love you always.” He smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. He felt like his heart was being torn from his body.
Julie continued to sob as if her heart were also breaking. Nicholas had never felt so powerless.
Lily glanced at her watch again. “There's no more time. You must go.” She placed the larger of the two amulets on Julie's muddy palm. “Rub it, Julie. Do it now!"
"I won't go, I won't, I won't,” Julie screamed and tried to heave the amulet into the nearest puddle.
In a movement almost too swift for Nicholas to follow, Lily grabbed Julie's raised hand and drew Julie's index finger across the stone. “Take her back to the future,” she commanded in a voice Nicholas had never heard her use before. A shiver spiraled up his spine.
As he watched in horror, Julianne's body convulsed once, then lay still. He snatched up his wife's body, cradling it against his chest. The staring eyes told him that life had fled.
"Julie, my dearest love,” he murmured over and over, trying to accept she was gone but failing. He stopped just short of snatching his dagger from his belt and plunging it into his chest. That was no answer. He had his people and lands to care for, all his responsibilities. As he mourned, Lily pressed something into his hand, something warm and quivery.
Shaken, he raised his eyes and saw he no longer stood on the muddy field before Norville Keep, his dead wife in his arms. But he knew beyond a doubt where he was—in his own bedchamber on April 15, 1250, just at dawn. And there was Lily, in her old form as the village healer, holding Edward and standing to one side, her attitude subservient. Behind her, Eleanor, Gwyneth and Alda hovered weeping. And in his hand was the smaller of the amethyst amulets.
Julianne lay on the bed, her eyes closed in death, and Julie, whom he had grown to love and need with all his being, had been whisked to the future with no hope of return. And this time, he was truly alone—forever. He bowed his head and wept.
She was no longer lying in the mud. Shaking her head, Julie tried to clear the cobwebs.
Suddenly, two large hands grabbed her shoulders. “Are you okay? You look like you'd seen a ghost."
"Wh...what?” She opened her eyes. She was standing with Nicholas in a corner of the great hall, holding the larger of the two amethyst amulets.
"You started trembling and turned so white I thought you were going to faint."
"I...I'm all right.” At least physically this was true. Her own body felt different from Julianne's. Not weakened from childbirth, in fact quite whole and healthy. Her hands were slightly different, the fingers longer and slimmer. She could feel the taut muscles she'd been missing for a year. And her breasts were fuller, her hips a little wider. This body was truly hers.
Then she looked up at the man standing next to her and gasped. This couldn't be Nicholas. These amber eyes were soft, his manner laid back, not sizzling and self-assured like the man she loved.
She peered at him. “Nick?"
"Who else?” he grinned, then dropped his gaze to what she was holding. “I say, is that amulet for me? You remembered my birthday, Julie. How smashing of you.” He took the amulet from her shaking hand and dropped it over his head.
"Yes, it's for you. Happy birthday,” she said mechanically, trying to absorb the enormity of what had just happened.
She had returned to the exact moment she had departed the twenty-first century as Lily had promised. Well, almost. Nick wasn't suggesting they both rub their amulets and wish for their heart's desires. And anyway, that was Nicholas in Nick's body. Oh, how confusing.
Glancing around, she saw people who did not exist in Nicholas's time. Members of the Medieval Society. How out of place they all looked. This was a pale imitation of the room where she had lived for the past year. The artificiality and bareness of it all struck her. It did not appear to be the home of a large group of people, just a costume ball for a bunch of pretenders. She spotted Lily across the room, standing near but just apart from a group of chattering ladies. Lily smiled sadly, but made no move to join Nick and her. A moment later, Lily turned and melted into the crowd.
A feathery tickling between her breasts distracted her from further thought. She raised her hand and touched a warm stone. The smaller amethyst amulet now lay against her lavender velvet gown. Furtively, she rubbed it. Nothing happened. Not that she'd really expected instant transportation to the time she'd just left, but just in case...Nick interrupted her thoughts.
"Terrific gift, Julie. It looks good with my tunic. Thanks, dear.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
No bells or whistles. Definitely Nick, not Nicholas.
"I'm glad you like it.” She wondered when she could get away from this castle and its hurtful memories. She could hardly wait to return to her own cottage. With the door locked and the covers pulled up around her neck, she could lick her wounds. Then she would emerge like one of Hemingway's characters, stronger in the broken places.
And do what? Well, for starters, she knew a lot about the thirteenth century now, more than any other living person. The book she'd planned to write would include some unknown details about everyday life in the Middle Ages...and each word she penned would bring a painful memory of Nicholas and the year they'd spent together.
After dinner a lute and a recorder began to play some thin, reedy music.
"Come on, Julie. Let's dance.” Nick captured her hand and led her to the center of the great hall. The trestle tables had been removed and the benches now lined the walls. Other couples joined them. Too heartsick to resist, she let Nick guide her through the intricate steps of a medieval dance.
As her feet moved with the music and her head started to pound, cold reality hit her—she had lost Nicholas forever! She wanted to burst into tears.
The music finally stopped and they returned to their seats on the dais. “Nick,” she murmured, feeling incapable of sustained conversation. “I'm exhausted. I need to go home."
"That's my fault, Julie. I've worked you too hard. Is your car here? Let me see if George is through in the kitchen. He can run you to the village, and I'll come pick you up tomorrow. I'd take you myself, but I have to play the host.” He grimaced, but it was pretension. He truly loved all the pomp associated with hosting the Medieval Society's May Day Feast.
"Thank you,” Julie murmured.
She hoped George came soon. She needed to go home, be alone to mourn the loss of Nicholas and their baby. She couldn't stay here pretending to enjoy herself when her heart ached so badly. Tomorrow she'd go to Lily and sell her soul if necessary to go back to her true love. Tomorrow everything would be all right.
"Come, dear brother.” She laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “Julianne has earned her rest. You need to..."
"Aye,” he interrupted, too filled with hurt and anger to give a chivalrous response. “I know what you will say.” The amulet had disappeared from his hand. He looked at Julianne's neck, but it was not there. He checked his pouch. Not there either. Filled with rage, he rose. Bloody hell! Lily must have it. The stone had just been used and as usual had immediately sought out its true owner—Lily.
He collected himself and faced his sister. “You know what to do, my dear. Prepare Julianne for burial."
After a year of bloody battles, he had learned just how much Miles coveted his holdings. And the danger he posed to both himself and his heir.
"And Eleanor, I want my son guarded day and night. Your husband is a danger to him."
He narrowed his eyes at Lily. Now was not the time to discuss matters, but later they would have a long talk. He could see she got his message. Hopefully, she had thought of some way to right matters.
As before, he stalked out of the chamber and descended the stairs to the great hall. Could Lily somehow have returned the amulet to his pouch since last he looked? He checked, but the jewel was still not there. Not that he was surprised. By now, he expected nothing less than the unexpected from Lily and her magical necklaces.
He sank down in his chair, a grim expression on his face. Everyone in the keep either disappeared or moved away. Maude brought bread, cheese and ale, but for once omitted her seductive ploys.
He pushed the food away and laid his head on his folded arms. The table was hard, but he was too tired to care. He would close his eyes for just a minute or two, just...a...min...
Julie stripped off her ball costume and slipped into a warm flannel gown and robe. It might be the beginning of May, but the night air was still chilly.
She walked to the window and pulled open the curtains. The moon was just setting in the West. Could Nicholas see the same moon? Absently, her hand strayed to her stomach. Her heart ached to have her baby back in the safety of her womb. No, Julianne's womb. And not so safe after all.
The Amethyst Amulets Page 30