[The deBurghs 07] - Reynold De Burgh: The Dark Knight

by Deborah Simmons

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘’Tis impossible,’ Sabina said.

  ‘I don’t understand why—’

  Sabina cut her off. ‘You must believe me, Ursula, for you don’t know all. There’s something I haven’t told you.’

  ‘What is it?’ Ursula asked, her expression stark.

  But Sabina only shook her head again. There were things she hadn’t told anyone, things she didn’t dare. About the dragon. About herself. They might not have mattered before, but now everything took on a new significance. What had once seemed simple had become painfully complicated.

  Worst of all, her vow, which had once been so crystal clear, was growing murky, clouded with other concerns.

  Chapter Nine

  M istress Sexton had something on her mind, and Reynold had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it. He could tell by the set of her chin and the glint of her blue eyes that it was probably not pleasant. In fact, she looked like someone who was heading to the gallows.

  And since she hadn’t spoken more than a few words since yesterday, Reynold didn’t need a genius like his brother Geoff to guess that she wasn’t too happy about what had happened, although she seemed to enjoy it at the time. Or had she? After a long, restless night, Reynold had begun to wonder what was real about their encounter and how much he had imagined.

  She had certainly chosen her time well. The hall was empty, but for the two of them, so at least they would not be overheard. Mistress Sexton was a born leader and knew better than to chastise her minions in front of each other. Reynold, his jaw tight, would bear this humiliation in private.

  ‘I would speak with you, my lord,’ she said, stopping to stand before him, hands clasped together.

  ‘Yes.’ Reynold steeled himself against what was coming, the prodding of his old wound, suddenly fresh. But rather than wait for her attack, he launched his defence, hoping to have done with it quickly. ‘If this is about the kiss, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

  Mistress Sexton made a strangled noise, and Reynold saw her face go pale and then flush. Was the memory too distasteful for discussion? Reynold turned on his heel and walked towards the windows, muttering a curse under his breath. Wasn’t this why he had left Campion, to avoid such entanglements? And yet here he was halfway across the country and worse off than he had been at home.

  ‘I release you from your vow.’

  Reynold whirled at her words. ‘What?’ She looked so uncomfortable that he might have spoken more gently, but for the fact that she was telling him to go, to leave Grim’s End behind. Would she rather face the dragon than his attentions?

  ‘I realise now that I asked too much of you,’ she said, and Reynold noticed that she could not meet his eyes. ‘I cannot ask you to risk your life for me, for us.’

  Reynold’s lips curled in contempt. She had been perfectly content with the arrangement until yesterday. Did she think he would ask for more in exchange for his service? As far as he was concerned, nothing had changed, except for his own brief lapse in judgement.

  ‘I’m afraid that my vows cannot be discarded so easily,’ Reynold said. ‘What happened to your concerns for the people of this area, your claim that the worm must be vanquished so that everyone can live without fear? Surely you do not want the beast to triumph?’

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘But neither do I want you to be hurt.’

  Reynold snorted. ‘Have you so little faith in me, mistress? I am no coward.’

  ‘Tis too dangerous!’ she said, ignoring his question.

  Reynold caught and held her gaze. The task always had been perilous, as was simply living in Grim’s End. ‘’Tis no different a threat than it was yesterday. Why release me now?’

  Mistress Sexton looked away, without answering, and Reynold grunted, his suspicions confirmed. ‘Then I will keep to my vow.’

  She glanced at him then, as though she might argue, but whatever speech she began was drowned out by a loud noise, a dull roar from outside. To Reynold it sounded different than the one yesterday, and he wondered if there were two worms. But he would not make the same mistake twice. He rushed to the doors, threw them open, and ran out in time to see a flash of fire streaking through the air to fall upon an abandoned hut, igniting the thatched roof.

  Right hand on his sword hilt, Reynold lifted his left to shade his eyes and search the skies, but he saw nothing and heard no more until Mistress Sexton’s shouts rose from behind him. He turned to see her pulling the cart that contained the pails, fearless of the beast, concerned only with putting out the blaze. And with one last check of the empty heavens, Reynold joined her, their efforts soon aided by the rest of the small band.

  When the last of the flames were extinguished, Reynold surveyed the wet and weary residents of Grim’s End. They had battled valiantly, and now, more than ever, he appreciated their bravery. Having never witnessed any of the previous attacks, he could understand the panic that drove the other inhabitants away. Had anyone been inside the hut, they might have been roasted alive.

  Any blaze could be deadly, but this one seemed more so, though Reynold could not claim to have vast experience with fires. He gazed at the smoking remains as if to find an answer there, while something tugged at the back of his mind.

  ‘See?’ Urban asked, gesturing toward the burned building. His garments were covered with soot and ash, and there was no denying he had worked as hard as the others. Still, his tongue remained as sharp as always. ‘Think you that a chain will protect us against this?’

  ‘I see fire, but no dragon,’ Reynold said.

  ‘We heard it,’ Alec said, his eyes wide. ‘We were checking our traps.’

  ‘Yes, I heard something, too, but our flying beast remains elusive,’ Reynold said, squinting at the sky. Reynold was beginning to understand why no one had seen the creature except a madman, whose description he now discounted.

  ‘I saw its fiery breath,’ Mistress Sexton said. She looked so bedraggled that Reynold felt a sudden ache in his chest, a surge of pride at her courage and visibly flagging strength. Would that he could take her in his arms, but he knew she would not welcome his comfort.

  ‘And you could have been killed,’ Urban said to her. ‘This is what comes from wandering about out of doors, making ourselves targets for the beast.’ His accusing glare was not lost on Reynold.

  ‘I will not cower in the cellar while Lord de Burgh risks his life for us,’ Mistress Sexton said.

  Surprised, Reynold glanced towards her and saw her lift her chin as though daring any to deny her words. Reynold’s own mouth felt dry, curbing his response, but Urban might have argued had not Ursula’s voice rung out loudly in the hushed silence. ‘Urban, please help me back to the manor.’

  At her words, the others hurried to pile the buckets into the cart, and Alec began wheeling it toward the hall. Only Peregrine and Mistress Sexton remained behind while Reynold stood staring at the ruins, as though the answers to all his questions might suddenly come to him from the ashes.

  ‘Let us have a closer look,’ he said, gesturing towards his squire.

  ‘We did not finish our conversation.’

  Mistress Sexton’s soft speech again caught Reynold by surprise, but he shook his head. There was nothing to discuss, and right now he had more important things on his mind.

  Still, the stubborn female persisted, stepping close to lay a hand upon his arm. ‘I would not have you hurt or killed, my lord.’

  Reynold’s heart lurched, and once more he felt himself weakening. He wanted to believe her, to accept the promise he thought he saw in her blue gaze. But he could not let himself. He could be imagining things, and even if he were not, her concern was misplaced.

  ‘I don’t think you need worry about the dragon doing me in,’ Reynold said.

  ‘You would leave us then,’ she said, with a nod, though her expression held no joy.

  Reynold shook his head, his lips curving into a grim smile. ‘Unless it is invisible, I don’t think a worm
threatens your village.’

  ‘But the roar,’ she protested. ‘You’ve heard it,’ she added, looking bewildered.

  Reynold shrugged. ‘The sound could be made by anything, another beast, or, more likely, a horn or an instrument of man.’ The roar yesterday had been subtly familiar, but Reynold could not identify it. And although today’s was different, again he felt a tug at his memory.

  ‘But what about its fiery breath?’ Peregrine asked. ‘I saw that myself, and look at what it did.’

  ‘Now, that is something else,’ Reynold said, squinting at the sky. ‘The flames fly through the air, and yet we do not see their source. If you were not expecting a dragon, how would you explain it, squire?’

  Peregrine looked thoughtful. ‘You could send fire through the air with an arrow, especially the larger ones that are shot with a crossbow.’

  Reynold nodded. ‘But the smaller ones are also effective when wrapped in pitch-soaked ropes and set alight.’ In fact, there had been a time in his youth when he and his brothers had tried to outdo each other in acquiring such skills, until one of them accidentally set fire to the poultry pen, causing Campion to put an end to the competition.

  ‘I cannot believe that someone or something is shooting flaming arrows at us,’ Mistress Sexton argued. ‘’Tis too great a distance. And what of all the animals that were attacked?’

  ‘One thing at a time,’ Reynold said. ‘For now, let us consider how else a blaze might be sent from afar.’

  Mistress Sexton appeared baffled, while Peregrine’s face screwed up in concentration. But the squire only shook his head, for once unable to produce an answer from his seemingly vast store of learning.

  Reynold was trying to tap his own store, though it was not as fresh in his mind. ‘Campion Castle has never been besieged, but none the less we all learned the craft of siege warfare,’ he mused aloud.

  ‘We?’ Mistress Sexton asked.

  ‘My brothers and I,’ Reynold said.

  ‘All seven of them,’ Peregrine noted.

  ‘You have seven brothers?’ Mistress Sexton echoed, with a startled expression.

  ‘No, I am one of the seven de Burgh brothers, sons of the Earl of Campion,’ Reynold said, and somehow the words caused a catch in his throat. I am a de Burgh and proud of it.

  His lips curved at the reminder of his heritage, and suddenly Reynold recalled what had eluded him. ‘My brother Geoffrey is the scholar of the family, so he would know more. But if I remember aright, he said that Good King Richard discovered some kind of incendiary weapon abroad that he later used against his enemies at home.’

  A jar that carried fire inside it, Geoffrey called it, for he was intrigued by various references in old books. Some versions could not even be doused by water, but fed upon it, Geoff claimed. And unless Reynold was mistaken, there had been talk of a loud roar accompanying the delivery.

  ‘But how would someone send something like that through the air?’ Peregrine asked.

  Reynold shrugged. ‘A catapult or some kind of pipe. Geoff tried both.’

  ‘What?’ Mistress Sexton’s eyes were wide.

  ‘We were all enlisted to help him with his experiments,’ Reynold explained. ‘Although some said his efforts were too much like alchemy, Geoff defended the practice as a science and declared there was nothing wrong with a search for knowledge.’ And there wasn’t—until someone’s hair was singed, and, once more, Campion put an end to it all.

  Mistress Sexton stared at him, as though dumbfounded, and Reynold smiled. ‘Seven boys will get up to some mischief.’

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘Nothing he could not handle,’ Reynold said. And he realised it was true. There was nothing Campion could not mend, except perhaps a son’s leg that was not quite right. Drawing a deep breath at the reminder, Reynold bent down to inspect the remains of the hut that had burned. It was easier now that he knew what he was looking for, and, taking up a stick, he poked at a small object that glinted in the light.

  ‘See this?’ Reynold asked.

  Peregrine nodded.

  ‘It might be a piece of the jar used to carry our fire,’ Reynold said.

  Peregrine kneeled close to inspect the glass, then glanced up at Reynold in wonder. ‘I saw bits like this elsewhere, but thought it was just a part of something that had been left in the house.’

  ‘’Tis not the first I have discovered here either,’ Reynold admitted. ‘But when they said they used sand to put out some of the fires, I thought perhaps the heat had worked upon it.’

  Peregrine gaped at him with such a comical expression that Reynold laughed. ‘I do not have my brother Geoffrey’s learning, squire, but just enough to stumble along.’

  At that admission, Reynold’s thoughts turned sombre once more. He gave Peregrine, kneeling beside him, a sharp glance. ‘Perhaps we should send a message to Geoff,’ he muttered. Although he hated to call his brother away from home and family, he knew Geoff would be intrigued by the mysteries of Grim’s End and possessed more of the knowledge needed to solve them.

  Apparently, Peregrine did not agree. The boy shook his head and surged to his feet. ‘We don’t need any help. You are doing just fine. Isn’t he, mistress?’

  Mistress Sexton, who still appeared bewildered, nodded her head. ‘Of course.’

  Reynold straightened, rubbing his bad leg as he rose. It was stiff from bending and had set up a familiar dull ache, which made him speak more harshly than he intended.

  ‘Perhaps you should reconsider, mistress. My father is a powerful earl. He can put pressure upon your liege lord to protect those who have sworn him allegiance. Or he can step in to aid you himself, with his sons and their armies behind you.’

  Mistress Sexton looked stunned. ‘I don’t understand,’ she admitted. ‘Are you saying that something else, some person, is responsible for the attacks on the village?’

  Reynold nodded. ‘Person or persons—a band of outlaws, perhaps, too cowardly to face soldiers. The de Burghs can provide both infantry and mounted knights to do battle against any number.’

  Mistress Sexton shook her head warily. ‘And how is Grim’s End to support these armies? We cannot even feed ourselves. And who or what are all these men to fight? The dragon, whether man or beast, never shows itself, attacking only to disappear for days.’

  ‘Then a garrison could be left here,’ Reynold said, spurred on by what he couldn’t name. It wasn’t the leg talking any more, but something else that goaded him to speak, to let Mistress Sexton know that she had only the least of his family when she could do far better with the rest.

  But she continued shaking her head. ‘I want no host of strangers here. You agreed to slay the dragon, and I released you from your vow. But if you are willing to help us against whatever is threatening our village, we would be grateful for it.’ She paused to look him at him directly. ‘You, not an army of soldiers.’

  ‘She’s right, my lord. This is your quest, no one else’s,’ Peregrine said.

  Reynold heard the boy, but he had eyes only for Mistress Sexton, gazing at him calmly. And he had ears only for her words, which were far more welcome than any nonsense from the l’Estranges. When given the opportunity to call upon his brothers, she put her faith in him, alone, a faith that Reynold sorely needed.

  The time might come when he would have to send for his family, when whatever menaced Grim’s End could not be caught or fought by Reynold and his squire. And perhaps he was just postponing the inevitable. But for now, only he would try to solve the mysteries of the abandoned village, keeping Mistress Sexton to himself for a little bit longer.

  With a stiff nod of acceptance, Reynold turned to head toward the manor, and Mistress Sexton and Peregrine fell in beside him. Their company was familiar and welcome, and Reynold felt his tension ease. As long as they both forgot about the kiss, perhaps things could continue on as they had before.

  As they followed the old track, Peregrine pointed towards the church with its elaborate
carving. ‘Maybe there never was a dragon,’ he said. ‘Maybe the founder of the village killed some invader or had a dragon as his device.’

  Mistress Sexton looked so appalled by the notion that Reynold barked out a laugh.

  ‘Well? It could be true,’ Peregrine said. ‘Like Uther Pendragon, King Arthur’s father!’

  ‘You are awfully well read for a squire,’ Reynold said, not for the first time.

  ‘Thank you, my lord. The Mistresses l’Estrange have been training me up for knighthood.’

  ‘Yes, so you’ve said.’ Reynold slanted the boy a glance. ‘I’m thinking that’s not all they were training you for.’

  Peregrine flashed a grin. ‘I admit that they did place special emphasis on dragon lore, just to make sure I would be able to aid you in your quest.’

  Reynold shook his head. He had not yet put his mind to fighting the new enemy, but he was heartily relieved not to be facing a giant winged foe.

  ‘Who are the Mistresses l’Estrange, and what do they know of our worm?’ Mistress Sexton asked.

  ‘Not much, apparently,’ Reynold said. ‘Else they would not have wasted so much time training Peregrine in old legends and stories of exotic beasts.’

  ‘’Tis time I do not regret, for ’tis better to be prepared than not,’ Peregrine said. He flashed another grin. ‘But at least now you don’t have to don those furry breeches!’

  Sabina followed the two males into the hall as if in a dream. Although they seemed to be in high spirits, she felt dazed and battered by the events of the past two days. And even as she tried to sort through her thoughts, they returned to one moment in time.

  Like a treasured memento to be taken out and viewed again and again, one memory came to mind. And once more, she felt the soft grass upon her back, a heavy weight above, and opened her eyes to see the incredibly handsome face of Lord de Burgh above her own. The nearness of any other man might have startled her and sent her into a panic, but not this one. She had never felt so secure, so free from fear, and yet so alive, so full of something else…