by Sarah Hegger
“Lady Kathryn.” Gregory shook his head. “Nay.”
“Aye.” Kathryn pressed forward. “I know the way better than anyone. I can be there and back long before anyone else. I have been sneaking in and out of Mandeville since I first walked.” Her legs shook as she took a step closer to Gregory. She dared not look at Garrett. “All I ask is that you delay Sir Arthur. You can do that. He needs your men. Call them here. Persuade him to wait for them.”
“You have lost your mind.” He threw his hands in the air. “What is it with the air in this blasted castle? It makes all the women mad.”
“I can do it.” Kathryn held her ground as Garrett loomed over her. “Three days is all I need.”
“Nay.” Garrett’s toes nudged hers. “You do not have three days because I am not letting you go.”
“I agree with Garrett.” Gregory’s tone remained calm, but she could not ignore the implacable note in his voice.
“Three days,” she said. “I can have my mother here in three days. By that time Roger might have returned. Perhaps he can talk some sense into Sir Arthur.”
“Nay.” Garrett folded his arms.
Gregory shook his head.
Men! Kathryn nearly stamped her foot, but her case would receive no help from acting the petulant child. “I can be in and out before my father even suspects I am there. He will have no way of knowing I took her. We could hide my mother with Tom and Ivy.”
“Nay,” Garrett said, firmer this time.
Another headshake from Gregory.
“Aye.” Kathryn squared her shoulders. “I am going.”
“Not if I have to lock you up,” Garret said.
Kathryn raised her chin. “You can try, but my father has never managed that yet.”
Garrett growled and strode an agitated circle to the casement and back again. “Roger will wring your neck. We have a plan for your mother.”
Kathryn stepped into his path. “Sir Arthur is not going to wait for your plan. He is not going to wait longer than three days at the most.”
“Do not make me tie you to a chair.” Garrett meant it, too. It poured out of every fiber and sinew of his tensed form.
A pity for him then, that Kathryn had never allowed a man to command her.
* * * *
A day and a night of breakneck, but uneventful travel and Garrett still had not forgiven her. He had caught up with her the far side of Anglesea village as she made her ride for Mandeville. He had given it a spirited attempt to get her to change her mind, but Kathryn had stood firm. She had to do this.
Dagger saved her by vehemently objecting to her being tied to her horse and sent back to Anglesea.
Now, they skulked in the shadows beside Mandeville postern gate and argued, again.
Garrett had stubbornness to spare. He claimed it came from being married to Beatrice.
“I know the keep better.” The wall sentry turned and marched away from them.
Garrett wrapped her fingers around a small stick. “Then draw me a map, because if anyone is going in there, it is me.”
“She will never come with you willingly.”
“I was not planning on asking her.” Garrett pointed to the soft earth at their feet. “Now draw.”
Dagger, the betrayer, dropped onto his belly and gazed at Garrett with adoration. Over the course of their headlong ride, he had decided to make Garrett his newest god.
“You are going to bundle her up and carry her off like a sack of grain?” Her mother would die of fright.
“Never you mind how I am going to get her here.” Garrett jabbed his thumb at the ground. “All you need to know is that I am better at this than anyone you know. Now, show me where I must go.”
“I am not explaining to Beatrice why you got killed in the middle of Mandeville,” she said.
“You should have thought of that before you dragged us both on this crazed journey.” He jerked his head. “Draw.”
Already the sky to the east showed the first release of deep dark. So, Kathryn sketched out the interior of the castle for Garrett.
A flickering brazier from the walls provided barely enough light to see, but Garret must have absorbed it all, because with a nod he slipped through the postern gate.
No wait had ever felt longer. She divided her attention between the pearly fingers of day creeping across the east, and the dark maw of the postern gate. She strained to hear any sound from within.
Dagger pricked his ears and stood.
Garrett appeared, a figure running at his side. She had not even heard a whisper.
“Kathryn?” Mother’s voice rose from the cloaked form.
“Mother.” Her mother. Safe at last. Kathryn steadied herself against the wall.
Garrett moved fast, staying to the shadows with her mother and already leaving her behind as they entered the trees where the horses were hidden.
Without allowing her a moment to greet her mother, he had her mother on Striker.
“She rides with you,” he said, before leaping onto his horse.
Kathryn scrambled up behind her mother, and dug her heels into Striker.
Her heart still thumped against her chest. Her hands slid slick with sweat on the reins. She had barely recovered from Garrett appearing with Mother and they already headed deep into the woods, Mandeville growing further behind with each pound of hoof against earth.
Garrett certainly knew his way about an abduction.
She wanted to giggle all of a sudden.
“What is happening?” Mother’s whisper cut into her thoughts. “He said I had to come. It was a matter of life and death.”
So that is how he had done it. “It is. I will explain later.” Kathryn tightened her arms about her mother. “I promise.”
Mother’s forbearance lasted until midday, when they slowed the horses to a walk.
“Explain.” She shifted in the saddle and pinned Kathryn with a stare.
“Your daughter thinks she is rescuing you,” Garrett said without turning around.
“From your father?” Mother gaped, and then her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Kathryn, you must take me back.”
Kathryn jerked on Striker’s reins. This must be how Cecily lived day by day, without sensible thought in her head. Mother could not want to return to that animal. “I cannot.”
“He is my husband.” Mother straightened her shoulders. “I made vows to him that you cannot force me to break.”
Garrett glanced over his shoulder. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. “Might I suggest you discuss this later,” he said. “They will not be far behind us.”
“Nay.” Mother wriggled and nearly unseated both of them. “I belong with my husband.”
“Well, you cannot go back now.” Kathryn wanted to beat her fists against the ground. She had expected her mother to be shocked, but her anger completely wrong-footed her. “Garrett did not lie. This is a matter of life and death. If I do not get you back to Anglesea, there will be war.”
Mother blanched. “Kathryn! What have you done?”
“Nothing.” She could not hold her mother’s accusing glare. “Sir Arthur is going to make war on Mandeville. To rescue you.”
“Why would he think I needed rescuing?”
Kathryn had no words.
Fortunately, Garrett stepped in. “Sir Arthur is not himself. We thought if we could bring you to Anglesea, we might prevent the war.”
“This conversation is not finished.” Mother gave a regal wave. “We must make haste. I will not have war between our keeps over this.”
* * * *
Kathryn stood with her arm about Mother, as the noise in the armory threatened to shake the keep. They had barely stumbled off their horses before the fighting started. Any conversation between her and Mother would have to wait.
Angry enough to come to blows, Garrett and Sir Arthur stood nose-to-nose and bellowed at each other.
“Stop them,” Mother whispered.
Kathryn shook her head. A woman could get crushed in the clash of two such large men.
Gregory pushed them apart, but the men came right back together.
“Get out of my way, boy.” Sir Arthur shoved Garrett, hard enough it sent him stumbling back.
“Do not think I won’t wipe my feet on you, old man.” Garrett lunged.
Gregory caught him. “Enough!” Gregory’s shout rattled the rafters.
Everyone froze.
Gregory hardly ever raised his voice. Taller than Garrett and Sir Arthur, with a pair of barn-like shoulders, he loomed over them. “Neither of you is helping,” he said. “We have enough trouble at our door without rushing out and grabbing more.”
“Are they still fighting?” With a big sigh, Beatrice sidled up.
If her father and husband threatened to dismember each other, Kathryn would be doing more than sighing. Then again, if her husband threatened to dismember her father, Kathryn would cheer him on. Even hand him the gutting knife. “Gregory is keeping them apart.”
Beatrice snorted. “Good luck to him. I have tried and failed to do that for years.”
“Sit.” Gregory pressed Garrett onto a bench. He kept one huge hand on his shoulder and glowered at Sir Arthur.
“Do not think to look at me like that.” Sir Arthur stuck his chest out. “I answer to nobody.”
“You answer to your wife,” Gregory said. “And right now, she does not need you rushing around like an avenging angel.’
Sir Arthur grumbled but took the bench opposite Garrett. He had not taken kindly to the news of their rescue. Not at all, and despite Kathryn’s vehement protests, blamed Garrett for the entire thing. “I will make them tremble before the might of Anglesea.”
Even worse, he remained resolved to march on the holy land. Once he and Garrett had finished trying to pummel each other. Just when had matters gone from bad to horrible?
Gregory beckoned a cowering Rob and his mead jug closer. “Let us discuss this calmly.”
“I wish William were here.” Beatrice tensed and ran a hand over her belly. “He has a way of calming my father down.”
“Bugger calm!” Sir Arthur sprang to his feet.
Garrett leapt up.
“And here we go again.” Beatrice flinched.
“Will they fight?” Matty arrived on Kathryn’s other side.
Beatrice glared at Matty. “Why do you sound as if you would like that?”
“I would not.” Matty squeaked and ducked behind Kathryn’s shoulder. Kathryn applauded Matty’s wisdom in staying clear of Beatrice.
“Mathilda!” Mother gaped. “Where have you been? What happened to you?”
Matty’s mouth dropped open. Then she threw herself into their mother’s arms. “Oh, Mother. I am so glad you are here. I have had the most terrible time.”
Beatrice gasped and grabbed Kathryn’s arm.
Kathryn glared at her sister. She agreed with Beatrice. Matty’s need for attention could not surface at a worse time. “Not now, Matty. There are bigger things at work.”
Sir Arthur thumped the table. “I will not sit idly by while—”
“You will do nothing.” Garrett wrenched free of Gregory. “What you propose will bring war down on all of us.”
“Scared, bastard?”
“Of you?”
Flushed with excitement, Matty peered over Mother’s shoulder.
Beatrice grabbed Kathryn, and doubled over. “Oh, dear God!”
“You have upset Beatrice.” Garrett yelled at Sir Arthur.
Sir Arthur grabbed Garrett by the tunic. “I would never upset my daughter.”
Gregory sprang after him.
All three men went over in a crash of benches and tables.
Matty squealed.
“Stop it.” Kathryn could not loosen Beatrice’s grip on her arms. She jerked her head in Matty’s direction. “Make her stop please, Mother. She is not helping.”
The men disappeared in a tangle of grunts, arms and legs.
Mayhem. Everywhere she looked.
A piercing whistle ripped through the hall.
Everything stopped. All gazes swung to the door.
Roger.
Her heart leapt. He stood in the doorway looking tired and travel strained but so beautiful she wanted to fling herself at him.
He surveyed the room. “What, in the name of God, is going on here?”
Where to start?
“They are fighting.” Beatrice panted and squeezed Kathryn’s arms. “And I am having a baby.”
“Now.” Garrett ran for Beatrice.
“Get her out of here.” Sir Arthur bellowed.
Roger moved past her to Beatrice and Garrett. “Get her upstairs.”
“Sir Roger.” Matty wriggled out of Mother’s arms. She threw herself against his chest. “Thank the Lord you are come. They have all gone quite mad.”
Roger started, and glanced at Matty. To his credit he kept his arms at his sides.
“Sir Roger.” Mother pried Matty off him. “It is good to see you.”
“And you.” Roger frowned. “When did you arrive?”
“You may very well ask.” Sir Arthur strode forward. “Ask the bastard what he encouraged your wife to do.”
Finally, Roger’s gaze sought her. “My lady. Are you well?”
“Aye.” Kathryn nodded. Tears misted her vision and she shook her head to clear them. She had missed him, like a huge piece of herself.
“Good.” He nodded, and walked past her. “Now.” Roger turned to the room at large. “We will all sit down and speak of this.”
Gregory straightened his tunic. “Your father wanted to make war on Mandeville to get Lady Rose back.” He indicated her mother. “In an effort to prevent war, Lady Kathryn and Garrett rode to Mandeville and…fetched her.”
“Fetched?” Roger stared at her.
Kathryn fidgeted beneath his steady, ice-blue gaze. “Garrett came with me to keep me safe.”
“I see.” He put his hands behind his back. “And did Garrett see fit to explain to you, whilst you fetched your mother, that he and I already had the matter in hand?”
She nearly lied, but decided against it. “He did, but time was pressing and I…”
He nodded. “You decided not to trust me and to take matters into your own hands.”
Nay, that was not it at all, but Roger had already turned his back, and approached his father.
“Come, Kathryn.” Mother touched her arm. “This is not a place for women. Let the men talk.”
Reluctantly, Kathryn followed her out. A cold, remote stranger stood in place of her husband.
* * * *
As much as Roger wanted to follow Kathryn out of the armory and upstairs, this had to be dealt with first. Dear God, exhaustion dwelled in his bones and made itself at home there. “So”—he took the bench beside his father—“war?”
“Aye.” Sir Arthur clenched his fists in his lap. “Will you support me?”
“Nay.” Roger laid his hand on his father’s shoulder. “But not for the reasons you think. Let us talk first of Henry.”
“You have more news.” Up came Sir Arthur’s head.
His father’s hope sliced him clear to the bone. “No more.” He shook his head. “But I spoke to a few people who are returned from pilgrimage. They say we should take heart that a body has not been found. Things work differently there, and Henry may very well be alive.”
Sir Arthur nodded, his shoulders drooping.
“Newt found me in London.” Roger poured his father a tankard of mead and handed it to him. “He is putting together the pieces of a plan Garrett devised.”
“A fool’s errand.” Sir Arthur stood and straightened his back with a loud pop.
“I think not.” Roger stretched out his stiff legs. He had ridden hard through the last two days to reach home.
Sir Arthur
turned to him. “You trust Garrett?”
“With my sister.” Roger kept his tone light. “And now with this thing with Mandeville.”
“I cannot like it.” Sir Arthur shook his head.
“That may be.” Roger rose beside his father. “But you gave Anglesea into my care, and I must run it as I see fit.”
“What is this plan?”
Roger pictured his father’s reaction to Garrett’s underhand machinations and for the first time in weeks, he wanted to smile. “You do not want to know,” he said. “You are just going to have to trust us.”
Sir Arthur stared at him for a long moment. At last he nodded, and sank onto the bench. “This is a whole new world we live in now.”
“Aye.” It seemed Roger had not slept since he left Anglesea. “A world in which a man must think first, and then act.”
Sir Arthur strode to the casement. Dawn broke across the sky in a vivid splash of scarlet over the sea. “Then it is a good thing that I have you as my heir.”
Chapter 31
Kathryn entered the chamber Mother now shared with Matty. Facing the landward side of the castle, the casement overlooked the bailey and the fertile land beyond the castle wall. A pleasant chamber with rich furnishings that would have functioned as a lord’s solar in a lesser keep than Anglesea.
Lady Rose sat by the casement, calm and serene on the bright, cheery cushions.
“Mother?”
“There you are, sweeting.” Mother motioned her closer.
“Where is Matty?” She had parted from her mother and sister outside the armory, wanting to see if Roger would follow her out. Instead, Gregory had politely closed the door on her with a compassionate smile.
“Around.” Mother breathed deep and folded her hands in her lap. “I thought we might talk alone first. We have had quite the adventure.”
Kathryn sat on the bed, not sure she wanted to hear what her mother had to say. A brightly embroidered bed cover mocked her mood. She still struggled to make sense of their hasty words during their ride for Anglesea.
Mother rose and hugged her. The familiar scent of rosemary clung to her mother, the smell of childhood and brief snatches of happiness amidst the grim reality of Mandeville. Despite Father, they had managed to carve out moments of sweetness.