“You showed me. Remember?” Stuart snickered as his eyes traveled over her body. He licked his lips.
“Your moods change too quickly. It is odd, Stuart.” She continued to inch past him. “I did not show you the way, you merely saw me. I trusted you to know better than to use it. If you are caught within these walls, they will take you prisoner. You will be locked away until Lord Blackwell decides to set you free. It may be months—years even. Did anyone see you? If you hurry you can leave the way you came.”
“Nay.” He waved his hand in dismissal of the suggestion. “You think me odd, dear cousin? Surely that is of his influence. He has poisoned your mind against me.”
“Stuart—”
“And your body,” he snarled.
From their position, no one would be able to see her as well as if she were closer to the main gate—not that anyone knew to look for her. Cedric was left to tend to her and he would not search her out unless summoned. He was still angry with her for making him churn butter.
Stuart appeared to read her thoughts. “Nay, they are gone. Be assured. We will not be interrupted.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Della let the lie slip quietly from her lips. “Mayhap, if we get you out of the sun. Come, let us go inside for a draught of mead. Methinks it might help to cheer you. You look thin, cousin. Come, let me feed you before the men get back.”
“Do not play games, Della! I know how he has poisoned your mind. You don’t have to be afraid of him any longer. I know how you got that scrape on your face the first day I came back. I know he beat you in the hall for all to see. I know how he has humiliated you, disrespected you. I know of the whores he has slept with right under your nose. I am your friend, Della. I am here to help you. I have come to take you away from the heathen Vikings.” He held out his hand and motioned her to go with him. Glaring at her expectantly, he willed her to come to him. “I have come to claim your hand.”
“Nay, I stay with Strathfeld. It’s my home and my life.” She turned, intent on walking away. His words of Brant planted a small seed of doubt. If Stuart had heard tales of other women, did it mean it was true? Had Gunther lied to protect his friend? It would not be the first time a knight lied for his lord. Either way, this was a matter between her and her husband. It was not a reason to abandon her home or her people. She walked faster.
“Do you forget your own mother so soon?” Stuart sputtered in fury when she didn’t join him. “And for what? The lascivious touch of a godless barbarian?”
Della froze in mid-stride. She hadn’t forgotten her mother, but it was time to stop the hatred. The men she sought would never be punished for what they had done. Revenge and justice were not hers to have. And yet Stuart’s words still plucked at her heart, causing it to ache dully with longing. “It was too many years past. The men who did that will never be found. It’s time to let the pain die. I need the pain to die. I cannot live with it any longer. I need peace. If you love me, cousin, you will leave me be. You will let me make my own happiness here, and if happiness is not mine to have, then at least I will have some peace in my time.”
“Nay!” Stuart disagreed with a mighty growl. He pointed his finger at her in both accusation and absolution. Della watched him from the corner of her eye. “I bring you the peace you so seek. It is revenge I have come to offer you. Justice! That and your freedom.”
“Freedom?” Della said the one word in wonder. Her eyes swept over the yard. She heard him take a step toward her and could not move. Trembling, she remembered her mother’s face. The memory was as clear as it had ever been. Time hadn’t faded a single line or a single tortured scream.
“Yea, freedom from the tyranny of the Viking barbarian. Freedom from those endless nights filled with demons. Freedom from Lord Blackwell, black-hearted knight.” Stuart’s words grew softer by degrees until they were a gentle whisper. “True freedom, as only revenge can bring you.”
His breath fell hot against her neck. Her limbs would not move and her mind forced her to listen to what he had to say. Revenge. It was what she’d prayed for since that night long ago. Was it possible after all the years of waiting and praying? Could she avenge her mother?
“Come with me, Della. Remember what they did to her.” His breath fanned her cheek. He smelled of stale liquor and sweat. She barely noticed. “Remember her cries. The same cries you have heard every night since, at least before that heathen wove his spell about you.”
“I have not forgotten,” she whimpered. She wanted to move, but couldn’t. It was like that night, when she was a child—helpless, scared, weak. His hand hovered just above her hair to land hesitantly on her shoulder. She stiffened. Stuart frowned.
“Close your eyes. Remember,” he urged her. Della obeyed. “Remember the acrid smell of burning flesh, how they cut her nether hair. Remember how they raped her, one after another, until she bled their heathen seed from her body. Remember what they did to your brother. He was alive when they cut him out, was he not? Did he cry for you to save him? Does he cry still?”
“Enough,” she begged, opening her eyes.
Della didn’t want to hear anymore, as air filled her lungs in great heaves. Her eyes blurred and her vision swarmed until blackness threatened to overtake her. The images were too close to her heart and she began to weep. Stuart grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake to force her mind back to reality.
“You are too cruel,” she whispered.
“Nay, not me. The cruelty you speak of belongs to another. Avenge your mother. Avenge your slaughtered brother. Remember them. Honor them. Remember how the babe cried as they sliced his throat.” Stuart had her undivided attention. He smiled as he loosened his hold on her shoulder. Della didn’t move. “How long did he live, Della? How many hell-filled moments?”
Della did remember, all too clearly. Her hand fluttered to her stomach, protectively covering her own baby. She felt her mother’s pain—more real to her now that she was to bear her own child. She didn’t remember telling Stuart of her brother’s death, but she had been young when they were together. Who knew the details she’d confessed all those nights they sat alone, whispering in the moonlight? Her limbs were numb with the pain of the past and a detached fear came over her. Her tears dried on her cheeks and she absently wiped her runny nose on her sleeve.
“I offer revenge for what they did to your mother and to your brother. I offer revenge for what they did to you, for what they took from you.” His voice was harsh.
“You…know who?” Her throat tightened in horrible anticipation and her heart squeezed in her chest, until it felt as if it caved in on itself. Gooseflesh covered her arms. She was unsure if to believe his claim, but part of her wanted it to be true so badly. “How?”
Della could not ignore him. She wanted revenge. She wanted their blood to spill as her mother’s and brother’s had.
“I have been looking for them since our childhood. I have not told you for fear you would get your hopes up, but it has been my life’s mission to make you happy and to avenge your mother. Finally, after all these years, I have discovered the truth.” Stuart nuzzled his stubbly cheek against hers. Della flinched at the sudden, intimate touch, but didn’t pull away, not really feeling him. “Where do you think I was all those years? Working for the king? Nay! I was working for you. My life’s work has been to make you happy.”
“Tell me,” she commanded, paralyzed.
“I came as soon as I discovered the truth, for I feared you were in danger.” The smile was back fully on his face when she pulled away to look at him. Della could no longer smell the stink of his breath. Her body could no longer feel. Her eyes could no longer see.
“Tell me who they were? One of Lord Blackwell’s men?” Della mentally ran their faces through her mind. Most seemed too young to have been there.
“Nay. It was Lord Blackwell,” Stuart growled victoriously. He grabbed her arms and pulled her back against his body. Squeezing her painfully, he kept her from running.
>
“Stuart, Brant is too young. I remember the men being his age now when it happened.” The acute disappointment threatened to choke her. She wanted to vomit.
“Nay, not Brant. His father,” Stuart affirmed. “It was Blackwell’s father. That is why you knew not to trust him at first. You must have felt the blood connection between them. That was before his pagan spells wove over your senses and blinded you to the truth.”
“But how? Why?” She shook her head. Nausea continued to rise chokingly in her throat. Della shut her eyes. “I cannot believe—”
“Think on it Della. Blackwell Manor borders your own land. Mayhap he thought to take your land for his own. Mayhap he was a sadistic barbarian. Your mother was a very comely woman.” Stuart let his hand drop from her shoulder, as if he knew she was not going to leave him. He was right. Her will had drained from her limbs.
Della turned to him, tears streaming freely down her face. She swayed on her feet. “But how—”
“How did he know you would be on the coast?” Stuart broke in with confidence. “Think, Della. His land is not far from here. He would have had spies in your father’s house. A servant would hardly be noticed as she cleans. A small page could have easily been bought. Blackwell would have known exactly where to find you and your mother. Yea, it was even a captain who lured your father to drink that night, was it not? Captains. Ships. Vikings. It all makes sense.”
Della could not deny that his words did indeed make sense. What Lord would not be jealous of Strathfeld land? It was envied, wealthy property with rich soils.
“She died for land?” Della asked in bewilderment. It didn’t seem fair. It couldn’t be true. “For petty greed?”
“Yea. And now, because of your marriage, the heathen’s blood finally possesses that land she died for. If you stay with Blackwell, they will have won. So, it is Blackwell who must pay for the death in place of his godless father.” Stuart clearly thought she couldn’t deny him any longer.
“Nay.” Della shook her head, proving him wrong. As the initial shock wore off, her sanity returned. “I will not punish the child for the sins of the parents. Give me the whole of your knowledge and I will ask Brant to seek out the truth. I am sure he will bring swift justice to the responsible parties.”
“The sins of the parents flow through the blood of their children. It is in his blood, Della.” Stuart paced back and forth, pulling at his short hair until it stood wildly on end.
“Nay. To believe that would be to say Rab deserved to be ill-treated for the adultery of his mother. I cannot give credence to such judgments and I know deep inside, you cannot either. Would you be judged for your father? Would you judge me by mine?”
Stuart stopped pacing and turned his cold, narrowed eyes to her—hating her logic, as it didn’t fall in with his. As he spoke, his words increased in volume until he was screeching at her. “You are coming with me. This is my land. You will be my wife. You will be loyal to me. You will love me. That is the way it should have been, if not for your father’s meddling. I am the rightful heir to the title of ealdorman. I am the true lord of Strathfeld!”
“Nay, Stuart. You are mad.” Della backed away from him in fright. The man before her was a stranger. The boy she had grown up with was gone. Part of her wondered if he’d ever existed. His eyes rolled in his head as he raged more to himself than to her. He flung his hands frantically.
Ready to run from his ranting, she began to turn. Instead, she bumped into an iron clad chest and fell to the ground. Looking up in surprise, she saw Cedric.
“M’lady?” he asked, as he made no move to help her. His arms were folded over his chest. He glanced questioningly at Stuart and then back to her. The knight frowned, his red eyebrows furrowing as he studied her.
Della reached for him, knowing how bad it must look, her talking to a man who was forbidden from entering the castle. When Cedric didn’t help her to her feet, she pushed herself to standing and dusted herself off before looking up at the young soldier.
“Cedric. Thank goodness it’s you. Please, you must help me. My cousin, Sir Stuart, has gone quite mad. He thinks to be the Ealdorman of Strathfeld.” Della rested her hand on Cedric’s arm as she motioned to Stuart. As she turned, she froze at the smirk on her cousin’s delighted face. Her heart sank from her chest.
“And so shall he be,” Cedric gloated behind her in merriment. “So shall he be.”
* * * * *
“I don’t see any signs of a raid,” Gunther said to Roldan. He reined in his horse as he motioned his hand along the evening sky. Their band of knights had ridden hard all afternoon. “There is no smoke, no signs of trouble, and I have yet to see a slaughtered cow.”
As if to prove his point, a nearby heifer mooed loudly in the pasture. The sound caused the herd to move further away from the mounted men. Gunther’s scowl deepened.
“Yea, it is odd. We passed the area it was supposed to be nigh on an hour ago. Methought perchance they had been mistaken in the location, but none of Strathfeld’s people live beyond yonder ridge.” Roldan shook his head. “This is not as it should be.”
“I agree,” Gunther said. Both men looked steadily at each other. His stomach tightened, as they turned to the men behind them. “Who reported the raid? Let the man come forward.”
“It was Cedric,” one of the knights hollered from the back. “He was left behind to guard Lady Blackwell.”
“Yea, the coward volunteered to be a nursemaid,” another knight offered. The soldiers laughed.
Gunther frowned at Roldan, who in turn nodded. Swallowing visibly, he looked around one more time. He gripped his reins and spurred his horse in a tight circle. Clearing a path through the men with his steed, he galloped toward the keep. Roldan was directly behind him.
“Back to Strathfeld, with much speed. There is trouble at the castle,” Gunther yelled, spurring his horse faster to race forth to Strathfeld.
The men’s faces sobered and soon they beat a trail back toward the castle. Gunther feared they might be too late.
Chapter Twenty Two
Blessed Saints!
Della moaned as she fought for consciousness. Her heavy eyelids fluttered and she forced them open. All around her was ominous darkness and she could make out a faint humming, low and cheerless, coursing through her ears. Soon the humming turned to crackling and the darkness began to fade into an orange glow. She blinked several times, trying to focus her vision.
The strong odor of musty animal skins penetrated her nostrils. Even fainter, but not any less repugnant, was the smell of stale air and rotting wood. Shivering, she closed her eyes, willing the stench to go away. It only grew stronger with her concentration and she was forced to once again open her eyes.
The eerie orange light that radiated around her grew as her eyes shifted around in her head. Her temples throbbed as if someone had driven wooden spikes into her skull and she pressed her palms over her eyelids. When the pain lessened, she pulled her hands away and was able to focus on a decaying piece of timber. It leaned against a wood and earth wall. She was in an old cotter’s hut.
Jolting fully awake, she realized she couldn’t be at Strathfeld. There were no old dwellings like this on her land. Then she remembered Stuart and his declaration. Nausea rose in her throat, making it hard to concentrate. Her body ached terribly. She pushed up from the cot she was on, feeling the rub of dirty, matted fur under her hands. A matching fur had been thrown over her body for warmth. Though she tried to remember more, the last thing she recalled was Cedric’s cruel laughter before her world had gone black.
“Yer awake.”
Gripping the fur coverlet in terror, she spun around on the bed to face the bearer of the loud voice. Instantly she was sorry. White lights shot through her eyes with a searing pain. The pitiful, sullied chamber dimmed for a moment. “Cedric?”
“Yea.” All formality was gone from his tone.
Della blinked several times. Cedric sat on the only chair in the chamber, one leg lif
ted to rest atop a roughly hewn wood table. The chair was tipped back on two legs and he chewed absently on a piece of leather that hung from his thick lips. Taking the strip from his mouth, he snorted and spat disrespectfully on the floor in her direction before putting the leather back between his yellowed teeth.
“Cedric, where have you taken me?” Della asked as calmly as she could. The cottage had clearly been abandoned long ago and she doubted anyone would be left in the area to hear her cry out. “You know your lord will not take kindly to your kidnapping me.”
“Now, the way I see it, his lordship might not care at all that you are gone.” He didn’t take the leather from his mouth as he spoke. “He didn’t seem to care that you were there.”
The venomous barb was calculatingly delivered. Trying to ignore his laughter, she lifted her shaking fingers to the welt on the back of her head. She winced to feel the wound covered in dry blood. “What did you do to me, Cedric?”
“Oh, that. It would seem m’lady fainted and fell upon my fist.” He laughed harder and the piece of leather jiggled from side to side at the movement.
“You dared to lay a hand on me?” Della bristled in disgust. Her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears. She mentally checked her insides for any feelings of violation. Satisfied the welt was the only injury done to her, she sighed in relief. His insistent chomping turned her stomach and she looked at the crumbling fireplace instead. The low fire crackled, but didn’t drown out the sound of his mouth. “You dare to lay hand on a lady?”
“You deserved it, making me churn butter.” Sulking at her reprimand, he didn’t meet her eyes. “It is woman’s work.”
“Why, Cedric? Do the codes of honor mean naught to you? You swore allegiance to Lord Blackwell. Your name will be forever scarred by this folly. You will be blackened for eternity.” Della focused her attention haughtily on him. She had years of practice behind her and knew how to handle fighting men. In her most commanding tone, she ordered, “Take me back and I will ask Blackwell to be lenient with you.”
Lord of Fire, Lady of Ice Page 32