The Cast Of A Stone

by Avril Borthiry

  “By all the saints, Bee. You might have warned me she was here.” He glared at his sister, who shrugged.

  “Sorry, brother. I didn't want to spoil the joy of your return. She arrived three days ago.”

  Stephen groaned. “God give me strength.”

  “Who is she?” Emma asked.

  “Anne,” Stephen replied, his voice bitter. “Miriam's charming sister.”

  “The same Anne who fell in the moat?” Emma looked at Bee, who giggled.

  “Aye, one and the same. Slipped on the bank and went straight in, so she did. I fell to my knees and whispered a fervent prayer, which God chose to ignore. 'Twas a very sad moment in my life when the wench surfaced again.”

  Emma laughed. “Why don't you like her?”

  “You'll see.” Stephen wrapped his arm about Emma's waist and led her into the hall. “Take little notice of anything she says. She has a serpent's forked tongue.”

  A momentary hush fell over the room when Stephen entered, followed immediately by a cascade of greetings from serfs and servants alike. Christophe looked up at the interruption, his puzzled frown turning into an expression of absolute delight as he rose to his feet

  “God be praised!” Christophe held out his arms. “Welcome home, brother. We were in despair of ever seeing you again.”

  Stephen stepped into his brother's strong embrace.

  “'Tis good to be back, Christophe. Miriam, you're as beautiful as ever. Anne, you haven't changed at all.”

  Bee had a sudden coughing fit.

  “'Tis good to see you, Stephen.” Miriam held out a delicate hand, which Stephen brushed with polite lips. “We've been quite worried. Anne was asking about you only yesterday, weren't you dearest?”

  “Indeed I was,” Anne purred. “Thurston is not the same when its most handsome knight is absent.”

  Stephen smiled. “I haven't returned to Thurston alone this time.”

  “I see that.” Christophe raised a brow. “I'm curious to learn who stands so quiet and serious at your side.”

  “As am I.” Anne's dark eyes snaked over Emma's form. “Who might this be, Stephen?”

  “This is Emma.” Stephen wrapped an arm around her. “The most precious person in the world to me. She's to be my wife.”

  Christophe's jaw dropped open and Miriam gasped.

  “Your...” Anne gave a short laugh. “Surely not.”

  “Aye, Emma and I are betrothed.”

  “Isn't she beautiful?” Bee shot a smug glance at Anne. “I love her already.”

  “Well, congratulations, little brother. 'Tis long overdue. In fact, I had recently considered choosing a wife for you.” Christophe smiled at Emma. “But it appears you have already chosen, and chosen well. She's beautiful indeed. Lady Emma, this is my wife, the lady Miriam, and my sister-in-law, lady Anne. Welcome to Thurston, lass.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sleep held Emma captive, forcing her to face a darkness so thick it suggested substance. Someone moved within it, hiding, stalking, waiting. She flinched at the familiar stench of foul breath and stale sweat. A shadow separated itself from the darkness and pressed against her, muttering familiar words.

  ...beyond sweet, Emma...beyond sweet...

  Terror chilled her to the bone as strong arms folded around her, solid, unyielding. She attempted to scream, but her petrified voice could only whimper.

  “Emma, hush. You're safe. Wake up.”

  “Nooo...please. Please don't.”

  “It's alright. Sshh.”

  Stephen's voice reached into her mind and peeled the darkness away. Relief shuddered through her as the terror subsided.

  “Stephen.”

  “I'm here, love.”

  “Argante –”

  “'Twas a dream, little one.” His hand stroked her back. “Only a dream.”

  Two heartbeats drummed in her ears; Stephen's strong and steady, her own galloping like the hooves of a runaway horse. She drew several long deep breaths, and her heart slowed.

  A blackbird's sweet song drifted through the window, confirming the imminent arrival of a new day. Somewhere in the distance a rooster crowed, his raucous call a harsh contrast to the glorious voice of his smaller cousin. Emma turned her head and blinked in the darkness, her eyes picking up a hint of dawn's approaching light.

  A gentle snore at her side told her Stephen had drifted back to sleep. Drowsiness enticed her to do the same, but she fought it, fearful of returning to the dark recesses of her subconscious.

  Instead, she eased herself from Stephen's arms, slipped quietly out of bed and tiptoed to the window. She squeezed herself onto the cold sill, pulled her knees up under her chin and leaned back against the rough stone.

  Absorbed in thought, she nibbled on the remains of a fingernail and stared out across the awakening countryside.

  Over a week had passed since her arrival at Thurston. In that time, Emma had learned to love Bee, admire Christophe, and tolerate Miriam. Despite her best efforts, she could not find any liking for Anne, sensing both animosity and jealousy from the dark-eyed beauty, who made it quite clear she wanted Stephen for herself.

  Emma no longer had any doubt about where Stephen's heart lay. He demonstrated his love for her often, both privately and openly, making it clear to all that she was his. Still, Anne persisted with her flirtatious remarks to Stephen and a condescending attitude toward Emma.

  Bee avoided Anne whenever possible and made sure Emma did the same.

  “Tell me,” Bee had reasoned, “would you go into a room where a viper was on the loose?”

  As daylight crept across a cloudy sky, the forests beyond the castle came alive with birdsong. The sights and sounds prompted memories of her humble woodland home. Over the past few days, Emma's anger toward Alex had faded. She discovered, however, that her anger had served as a shield against the painful emotions that lay beneath. Those emotions were now exposed like raw wounds, which bled grief and confusion.

  Why had he lied to her? Alicia, her mother, had been his wife. His wife! Why would he hide that? And how could he kill his own wife? It just didn't fit the image of the gentle man she thought she knew, the man who had raised her and loved her. Everything had changed and little of it made sense. Despair twisted her heart. She leant her head against the cold stone and fought back tears. She missed Alex and her home so much.

  “We can go back if you like, little one.” Stephen's voice made her jump and she turned to look at him. He sat up in bed, arms resting on his knees, hair ruffled from sleep, his soft gaze on her. “I know how much you miss it. I miss it too.”

  “How do you do that?” A surge of love for her gentle knight quickened her heart. “How do you always know what I'm thinking?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “You were looking out across the forest, the birds were singing. I knew you were pining.”

  “I do miss it. But I don't think I'm ready to face Alex yet. I'm too scared of what he might have to say.”

  “As you wish. But if you ever feel the need to return, you'll tell me. Promise?”

  Emma nodded. “I promise.”

  She turned and looked out beyond the castle walls. The morning light revealed a soft white mist blanketing the forest. Only the tree tops were visible above it, their crowns decorated with the jewelled colours of early autumn.

  “It's beautiful here too, Stephen.” Overcome with a sudden need to escape, she reached out and touched the stone in front of her. Thurston's walls had been built to defend against those without. It occurred to Emma those same walls also served to confine those who lived within. “Do you think we could go for a ride today? Perhaps practice some archery in the forest?”

  “I was just about to suggest it, my love. We haven't left the castle since we arrived.” He slid off the bed and grabbed Emma's cloak from the back of a chair. “Put this on and come with me. There's something I want to show you.”

  “What?”

  “It's a surprise. Come.”

  Myst
ified, Emma grabbed his hand and followed him from the chamber. He led her to the end of the hallway, where a small door sat flush in the wall.

  It opened reluctantly, the bottom of it scraping against the wooden floor. Emma blinked into the gloom beyond and saw a small staircase winding up into blackness.

  “Christophe and I used to sneak up here when we were children, even though our father forbade it.” Stephen pulled her into the shadows. “I remember he caught us one time. We spent a week mucking out the stables as punishment.”

  “Where does it go?” Nerves fluttered in her stomach as darkness surrounded them.

  He grinned. “You'll see. Don't let go of my hand.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Of course. I'd never put you in danger.”

  The steps finished at a trapdoor. Stephen pushed it open and it fell back with a crash.

  He climbed out and turned to lift Emma through the gap.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Stephen!”

  “Trust me. Close them.”

  She giggled and did as he asked. He turned her, pulled her back against his chest, and whispered in her ear.

  “I lay the world at your feet, little faerie.”

  Emma opened her eyes and gasped. For a heartbeat, she felt as though she was hovering in mid-air. Miles of countryside stretched out around her, an endless patchwork of colour and texture.

  “Oh, Stephen,” she whispered. “It's beautiful.”

  They were on the roof of the keep, or at least, the ledge that surrounded it. Only a waist-high wall separated them from the drop to the cobbles below.

  “On a clear day, you can see the city of York.” Stephen gestured into the mist. “If this cloud clears, we'll come back tonight and watch the stars.”

  “I would like that.” Emma peered over the wall and shivered. “‘Tis a terrible drop.”

  “Aye, which is why our father didn't want us playing up here. Come, you're shivering. Let's go back.

  Emma had refused the services of a lady's maid, much to Miriam's surprise and Anne's scornful huff. Although her bruises and cuts were gone, the thought of a stranger touching her body still discomforted her.

  So, she washed and dressed herself, grabbed her bow and quiver and ran down the stairs. The thought of escaping the confines of Thurston put a smile on her face. With her mind already riding through the forests, she leapt off the bottom step, turned the corner and collided with Anne.

  “For Heaven's sake.” Anne scowled and smoothed her skirts. “Watch where you're going. 'Tis not ladylike to run.”

  Emma grimaced. “I'm sorry, my lady. I meant no harm.” She tried to push past, but Anne grabbed her by the arm, eyeing the bow and quiver.

  “You shoot?”

  Emma wrenched her arm free, fighting a surge of annoyance. “Aye, I do.”

  Anne laughed. “I suppose you sword-fight as well.”

  “That too.”

  “By all the saints. Stephen has found himself quite the little gamine. Archery and sword-fighting?” Anne stepped back and raked a vicious gaze over Emma. “Such vulgar behaviour for a lady. But I'm not surprised. You seem quite comfortable having a man in your bed ere your marriage as well. He'll be hard pressed to show proof of your virginity after your wedding night.”

  Emma gasped and her stomach twisted. A flush of heat swept over her skin as her mind swam with a stupefying mix of shock and shame.

  “Enough.”

  Stephen's shout carried over the strange hum that had settled in Emma's ears. She turned to look at him, noticing the flush on his skin. Why was he so angry? Her mind, still numb, could not fathom at first what drove his temper. She blinked, and her frozen thoughts began to thaw.

  Anne spun round. “My lord, I did not see you there.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stepped toward her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “'Tis a vicious bitch you are, Anne.” He spat at her feet. “If you were a man, you'd be feeling the sting of my blade. You speak of things you know naught about.”

  Anne stiffened. “Stephen, open your eyes. Can you not see what she is? Or rather, what she is not? I doubt the girl is even of noble blood, and your brother has also voiced his doubts –”

  She yelped when he pinned her against the wall, his words hissing at her through gritted teeth. “Still your tongue, woman.” His hand held her in place, pressed on her chest at the base of her throat. “And apologize to my lady.”

  “I'm...I didn't... I...” Anne wrapped her hands around his wrist in an effort to push him away but he held her fast. Her eyes searched his face in an apparent plea for mercy. “Please don't hurt me, my lord.”

  “Then apologize,” Stephen snarled. “We're waiting.”

  Emma's heart lurched with pity at Anne's expression of fear, which was obviously real. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Stephen's arm. “Stop,” she said. “Leave her be.”

  He shook his head. “Not until the witch apologizes to you.”

  “'Tis of no consequence, truly.” Emma tugged at his sleeve. “Please, Stephen.”

  He grunted and stepped back, his eyes still fixed on Anne's face. “Very well. But if I ever see you near my lady again, I swear –”

  “What the hell is going on?” Christophe strode toward them, shoulders stiff, brows knitted in a frown. “I've just had a servant tell me my brother was strangling my sister-in-law.”

  “The woman needs strangling.” Stephen scowled and wrapped a protective arm around Emma, who saw Anne flinch at Stephen's words.

  “And why is that?” Christophe looked from Anne to Stephen. “What did she do to merit your hands around her throat?”

  “She insulted Emma.” Stephen's lips curled in disgust. “The woman possesses a venomous tongue, brother, and well you know it. And my hands were not around her throat, even though the thought was in my head.”

  Christophe frowned at Emma. “What was said that so insulted you, my lady?”

  Caught between pity and a sense of shame, Emma swallowed a sob. “'Twas –”

  “'Twas all a misunderstanding, my lord,” Anne interrupted. “Emma bumped into me and I confess I lost my temper. I said some things I do now regret.”

  “God's teeth, woman.” Stephen ran his hand through his hair. “That's your idea of an apology? Or could it be you don't want my brother to hear the filth you spewed?”

  “Enough!” Christophe cursed and blew an exasperated breath. “Christ, give me strength. Last night, a servant's babe was stillborn. This morning, I find I've lost the fealty of two fine knights to a Baron in Northumberland. As lord of Thurston, these are things I might expect to hear. I do not expect to hear that my family are behaving as spoiled children and fighting in the hallways.”

  “Yet your sweet sister-in-law also implicated you in her little tongue lashing.” Stephen eyed his brother angrily. “If you have concerns about my choice of bride, my lord, perhaps you should discuss them with me rather than the women.” He glared at Anne. “Especially this one.”

  “Stephen, please.” Emma clutched at his shirt, desperate for the arguing to stop. “No more, I beg you.”

  Christophe's jaw tensed. “Watch your tongue, little brother.” His eyes flicked briefly to Emma. “I have no concerns about the choices you've made, but there are indeed things to discuss before you wed. Until God sees fit to grant me a son, you're still heir to Thurston. With that comes certain...expectations.”

  “Then you and I will discuss those in private.” Stephen shot another scowl at Anne. “I find the air in here unpleasant. Excuse us, my lord. Emma and I are going for a ride.”

  Emma wrinkled her nose as they stepped outside, her nostrils flaring at the odours of stagnant water and human waste.

  “Actually, the air out here is no less unpleasant. It really does stink.” She cast a sideways glance at Stephen, whose taut expression told her his thoughts were elsewhere. She hung onto his arm, trotting at his side as he strode toward the stables. “There's something I'd
like you to do for me, Stephen.”

  His jaw relaxed a little, although he still did not look at her. “Aye, sweetheart, and what is that?”

  “Slow down. Unless this is a race, in which case I do willingly forfeit.”

  She smiled, noticing the twitch at the corner of his mouth. He stopped and swung her into his arms, laughing at her squeal of delight.

  He relaxed his shoulders. “I swear that woman makes me so angry.”

  “I noticed.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, little one.” His chest rose and fell against her. “With all my heart.”

  The pleasure and beauty of a late summer morning awaited them outside the castle gates. Pale sunlight seeped through thinning clouds, reflecting off a mist that blurred the finer details of field and forest. The horses' hooves kicked odours of wet leaves and dew-kissed earth into the air. Stephen insisted they kept the animals to a walk, since the mist obscured much of the road ahead.

  Emma didn't care whether they walked, trotted or galloped. Her entire being soaked up the release from Thurston without reserve, every pore in her body savouring the space, the scent of the forest, and the sounds that reminded her of home. Her lungs welcomed the deep breaths of fresh air, which she savoured until her head swam with dizziness.

  Content and relaxed, she reflected on the morning's events with little discomfort, and a question came out midway through her thoughts. “Why is she not married?”

  Stephen looked at her. “Who? Beatrice?”

  “Nay, Anne. Well, aye, Beatrice too, I suppose. But I was wondering about Anne.”

  “She was married. Anne's a widow.”

  Emma pondered for a moment. “But she's so young. How sad. Was he ill?”

  “He was old. 'Twas an arranged marriage. He died only months after they wed. Death was likely preferable to the poor bastard.”

  “Stephen! Did you know him?”

  “I met him once, when they came to Christophe and Miriam's wedding.”