Beyond Reason

by Avril Borthiry

  Robert chuckled. “Nay. I promise you'll be safe if you stay at Glendennan.”

  The boy looked at his feet, bent his ankles and pointing his toes to the ceiling. “Alright,” he said. “I'll tell you 'is name.”

  Chapter 13

  Bernard and Lucas had left at dawn. With evening approaching and no sign of their return, Robert paced his office floor with impatience and some anxiety. The temperature had plummeted through the day as a ferocious north wind explored the hills and valleys. Even the snow hesitated to venture out into the icy air and stayed tucked inside a quilt of bleak, grey clouds. Travelling would be unpleasant, if not downright hazardous.

  At last, as twilight deepened, the portcullis of Glendennan rattled and clanked a noisy ascent on frost-covered chains. Robert breathed a sigh of relief. The travellers, it seemed, had returned.

  A short time later, Bernard stood on the threshold of the office, eyes bleary from the wind and lips pinched blue with cold.

  “You look like hell.” Robert's quiet observation carried no flippancy. “Is my squire still in one piece?”

  “One frozen-solid piece, aye.” Bernard blew into his hands. “'Tis colder than the grave out there.”

  Robert gestured to the empty chair at the fireplace and Bernard flopped into it, thrusting his hands towards the flames.

  “Tell me.” Robert sat back, eager to hear the news. “What did you find out?”

  “Plenty. The innkeeper was happy to oblige. The nose you took pleasure in breaking belongs to Percy Gilpin, younger brother of Cedric and Samuel. Samuel is indeed young John's sire. I'd choke before calling him a father. He's known locally as a very brutish fellow. In truth, all three brothers are known as trouble-makers.”

  “So.” Robert frowned into the flames. “I was right about the attack being a pay-back.”

  “It would seem so. Samuel is the ring-leader. He runs with his brothers mostly, and other ruffians on occasion. They found his wife's body in the lake a few years ago, covered in bruises. He denied killing her and nothing was proven, but local gossip paints him as the killer. From what you told me about the marks on the boy, I can believe it.”

  The image of the child's bruised body darkened Robert's mind. “Well, we have the bastard this time. The boy is a witness. He's already admitted his father was in the woods.”

  “Aye, but the man's likely gone to ground with his band of louts. I've put the word out, though. When he's caught, they'll bring him here.”

  “I'll put up a reward for his capture. Did you tell anyone we have the boy?”

  Bernard shook his head. “Nay. The innkeeper just happened to mention the lad when he was telling me about his mother.”

  “And the missive? Did you find a courier?”

  “Aye, I took care of it.” Bernard shifted in his chair. “How's Isobel?”

  “She's rallied, thank God.” Robert lifted the small wooden knight from the chess board at his side and ran his thumb over the crack in the wood. “Angmar has returned home and left Isobel in Mary's care.”

  “Good news.” With a groan, Bernard pushed himself to his feet. “Well, now that I can once again feel my legs, I'm going to arrange for a warm bath.”

  Robert stood and placed the chess piece back on the board. “My thanks.” He shook his friend's hand, flinching at the icy touch. “Hell's teeth, you're still frozen.”

  “Aye.” Bernard grimaced and adjusted his crotch. “I fear there are parts of me that may never work again.”

  The door closed, leaving Robert with only the soft whispers of the flames in the hearth. Unhindered, his thoughts wandered, seeking an unclouded avenue of hope for the future. But solitude, as it sometimes will, began to cast unwelcome shadows across his path. Unwilling to examine them, Robert shifted his thoughts elsewhere.

  He reached over to the chess board and moved a black pawn two spaces. Then he lifted the board, taking care not to spill the pieces, and left his office in search of solace.

  He knew where to find it.

  Mary answered the door to Isobel's chamber and was quickly dispatched elsewhere. Isobel, wrapped in a blanket, sat in a chair by the hearth. At the sound of Robert's voice she turned to him, granting him a smile that lifted his spirits.

  “Robert!”

  He set the chess board on the nearby table and bent to kiss her. It was a quiet embrace, his lips gentle, yet it didn't quell the surge of desire that burned through his veins.

  “Sweet heaven,” he murmured against her mouth. “What you do to me.”

  “And you to me,” she said, touching her fingers to his cheek.

  “I thought you might like to indulge me in my second favourite pastime.” He winked, drawing a chuckle from Isobel. “But you'll tell me, sweetheart, if you tire.”

  Isobel nodded and then gasped as she picked up damaged knight. “Oh, no. What happened?”

  “An accident. It fell.”

  “A pity. The knight is my favourite because it reminds me of the man I love. Of all the pieces on the board, this is the one I would least wish to see damaged.”

  Robert smiled even as her words roused the familiar sense of foreboding within him.

  “Before we begin,” he said, “there's something I must tell you.”

  He explained about the letter to Edward, offering Isobel hope where perhaps none lay. Indeed, the trust he saw in her eyes burdened him. It was obvious she didn't fully comprehend the enormity of what he'd done. In truth, he had no way of knowing how Edward would respond or even if he would respond before the wedding. He could only wait as time flew by, dragging the days with it.

  ~ ~ ~

  The vicious north wind decided to stay a while. The next ten days proved to be one of the coldest snaps in living memory as the icy wind sank its frozen teeth into every surface. It turned the ground as solid as Glendennan's auld grey stones. The castle opened a welcoming door to the villagers and any needy travellers who ventured along the icy road. Grateful for the food in their bellies and the warmth of the fire, folk huddled together at night in the shelter of the great hall.

  On the morning of the 23rd December, winter at last loosened its harsh grip upon the land. By the next day – the holy eve – most of the villagers had returned to their cottages. Glendennan, meanwhile, bustled with preparations for the celebration of Christ's mass – and a noble wedding.

  Late that afternoon, as the sun sank behind the shadowed hills, a lone knight rode out of the east. Hair the colour of ripe wheat brushed at his shoulders, hinting at his Saxon ancestry. A tall man, he sat at ease astride an enormous ebony stallion, which drew to a halt at the closed gates of Glendennan. The knight hailed the sentries atop the battlements and declared the reason for his visit. Moments later, the portcullis clanked its ascent and allowed the stranger entry.

  Angmar, sitting in silent thought by her hearth, had heard the steady clip of the knight's horse as it passed by her door. Few times in her life had the good witch cursed her ability to see that which had not yet occurred.

  She cursed it now.

  Chapter 14

  From within the stable, Isobel heard the familiar sound of the portcullis opening, but paid it little mind. Out in the bailey a horse whinnied and voices carried easily on the thin winter air. As the voices drew near, the chestnut mare rolled her eyes and shifted in her stall.

  “Hush, Cinnamon.” Isobel stroked the mare’s nose. “It's alright.”

  Since the incident in the woods, the little mare had been unsettled. As soon as she was able, Isobel had visited the stable every day in an effort to establish fresh confidence in the animal. In reaching out to the mare's troubled spirit, Isobel discovered that her own inner turmoil became easier to manage.

  For some reason, in the past few days, things had changed a little. Her gentle lord had become somewhat surly with his villeins and servants. When questioned, he had brushed Isobel's concern aside. “I'm fine,” he insisted. “Everything is fine.”

  Yet Isobel understood that Robert was
denying his emotional burden, and suspected it had to do with Joanna's imminent arrival. So far, apparently, there had been no response from Edward. In truth, Isobel also feared what the future might hold. Both of them, she knew, were dancing around unwanted possibilities, avoiding and refusing to face them

  The late afternoon sun spilled its splendid light through the stable's open doorway, illuminating particles of dust that hovered around Isobel like a golden mist. When a shadow blocked the light, she turned to discover the source. Her eyes widened at the sight of the large black stallion entering the stable. He was a horse of great size, standing taller even than Argyle, led by a blond-haired knight of equally impressive stature.

  “Don't stand behind him.” The knight handed the reins to a stable-lad. “He's a feisty old warhorse trained to kick anyone who approaches from the rear.”

  The lad acknowledged the knight's command with a nod and steered the horse into a nearby stall.

  Unhindered, sunlight once again streamed into the stable and chased the shadows from Isobel’s corner. As the knight turned to leave, his gaze drifted to where she stood. He froze mid-step, one fair brow rising in apparent surprise. A slow smile curved his mouth as he inclined his head. He had a kind face, Isobel conceded, returning his smile.

  “My lady,” he said. “I take it you are resident here at Glendennan?”

  “I am, sir, and bid you welcome. You're in need of shelter this holy eve?”

  “I’m certainly in need of rest, aye, but Glendennan is my intended destination. I'm here on official business.”

  Curiosity stirring, Isobel approached. “I see. Then please allow me to accompany you indoors. I’d be happy to introduce you to Lord Montgomery. May I know your name, sir?”

  “Sir Elias Burrell at your service, dear lady. Thank you for your kindness. However, my business does not lie with Lord Montgomery, although I should probably make my presence known before proceeding further.” He presented his arm as he regarded her with obvious interest. “May I know your name, or do you prefer to remain a mystery?”

  Isobel laughed as they stepped into the courtyard. “Forgive my wandering mind, Sir Elias. My name is Isobel. Isobel De Clancy.”

  The knight paused, his grey eyes narrowing. “Formerly Isobel Stanford? Sir Richard Stanford's daughter?”

  Isobel's heart skipped. “Why, yes. Sir Richard was my father. You knew him?”

  “No, I did not have that pleasure. 'Tis you, in truth, I seek, my lady. I've been searching all of England for you.”

  “All of England?” Uneasy, Isobel frowned. Did this have to do with Simon and his debts? “What is this about? Do I have need for concern?”

  The knight shook his head. “No, no. Not at all. Please don't alarm yourself. Forgive me, but my reason for being here should not be discussed in these casual surroundings. Might I be allowed to refresh myself and meet with you this evening?”

  “Of course.” Isobel sighed with relief. “I shall look forward to it. I admit, sir, you have me most intrigued.”

  “Might I know what you find so intriguing, my lady?”

  Isobel spun around to see Robert standing behind them, a dark expression on his face.

  “Rob...er, my lord, I didn't see you there.”

  He raised a brow and cast a cool glance at Isobel's hand where it rested on Elias's arm. “I must assume you know this knight well, since you are displaying such familiarity with him.”

  As if scalded, Isobel pulled her hand away, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. Why in Heaven's name would he say such a thing? “You misunderstand, my lord. We–”

  “Indeed you do,” Elias said, his voice calm. “I was simply escorting the lady across the courtyard. I trust I am speaking with Lord Montgomery?”

  Robert met the knight’s gaze. “And you are?”

  “Sir Elias Burrell, my lord. I'm here to discuss a family matter with the Lady Isobel. I humbly request the pleasure of your hospitality over the next few days while certain affairs are settled.”

  “A family matter?” Robert cast a puzzled glance at Isobel. “I wasn't aware the lady had any family.”

  “I haven't.” Bewildered, Isobel regarded Elias anew. “I have no living relatives, sir. There must be some mistake.”

  “There’s no mistake, my lady. If I might be allowed some time to prepare, I’ll meet with you later to explain.” He offered Robert a guarded smile. “By your leave, of course, my lord.”

  Robert appeared to ponder for a moment and then gestured to the door. “The great hall is to the left. Ask for Edith and tell her to attend you.” He turned to Isobel. “My lady, I would speak with you in my office.”

  Isobel followed him, her anger dissolving into incredulity. The hurt remained. “Why were you so rude just now?” she asked, struggling to keep the tremble from her voice.

  “Do you have any idea what this family matter is about?” he asked, ignoring her question as he closed the office door.

  “I know as much as you,” she replied, folding her arms to stop herself from shaking. “Please, Robert, answer my question. You truly shamed me with your comment. The implication was insulting.”

  He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “I saw you leaving the stables with him. It unsettled me to see you so comfortable with another man.”

  “Ah, well, that explains it. I understand, of course, exactly how you felt, having seen you so recently with Joanna.”

  Robert flinched and Isobel's hands flew, in shame, to her face. “Heavens above, I'm so sorry, Robert.” She reached out to him. “I shouldn't have said that.”

  He groaned as if in pain and took her in his arms, holding her so tight she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. “I deserved it,” he murmured. “Forgive me. I don't know what possessed me to speak as I did. I love you, Isobel. So much.”

  “Then show me,” she whispered, winding her fingers through his dark curls. “We have plenty of time.”

  Did she imagine the brief shadow of sadness in his eyes? He growled as his hands slid down her spine to span the curve of her waist. She felt the thickening of his arousal between them and drew a breath of excited anticipation.

  “Aye,” he said, bending to kiss her. “We have plenty of time.”

  The lack of conviction in his words did not go unnoticed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Elias chose a quiet seat in the corner of Glendennan's great hall, the location giving him a clear vantage over the comings and goings of the castle. He enjoyed watching people unawares. A harmless hobby, it was intended only as a study of human interaction and behaviour. He had long recognized the subtle language of mannerisms. The way people moved often told him of their thoughts as plainly as if they had voiced the words out loud.

  With a genuine sense of pleasure, he cast his gaze around the hall that had been decorated in celebration of Christ's birth. Sweet aromas of freshly-cut pine and holly subdued the stronger odours of burning tallow and roasted meats. A flaming yule log spat and crackled in the hearth. Several of the castle dogs, drawn to the warmth, were stretched out in front of the fire.

  In the midst of this canine pack, a little fair-haired boy lay on his stomach with his chin propped up on his hands. Legs bent at the knees, the boy's feet flailed around behind him in the manner typical of a bored child. Elias smiled at the charm of the scene, and fleetingly wondered to whom the child belonged.

  The hall was alive with the hum of pleasant conversation and joviality. People gathered in groups, playing dice or chess while enjoying a cup of spiced ale or mulled wine. Laughter mixed with cries of dismay as gambling bets were won or lost. Due to the early hour, the main dais stood empty. Soon, no doubt, Lord Montgomery and his higher ranking knights would make an appearance, and the festivities of the holy eve would begin.

  Elias's thoughts turned to Isobel, which put another smile on on his lips. When he'd first arrived, he'd paid little mind to the small figure standing in the shadows of the stable. But when the rays of the setting-sun had cau
ght Isobel's hair, the vision of it had stunned him. . Lit by the golden light, the woman had seemed almost otherworldly.

  His smiled faded as he recalled the confrontation in the courtyard. Elias had guessed immediately that Montgomery and Isobel were lovers. Not a difficult deduction, since he'd noticed jealousy in one pair of eyes and tears in the other.

  Edith, in the time-honoured fashion of a gossiping servant, had informed Elias of the upcoming marriage. She had also made it quite plain that all at Glendennan knew of the affair between the master and the young widow. Indeed, he'd been given the distinct impression that most of the servants saw Isobel as little more than the master's plaything. Everyone was, apparently, waiting with bated breath to see what would happen once the master's betrothed arrived in a few days.

  Elias felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Isobel. From what he'd seen, the woman possessed a gentle nature and an admirable intelligence. And, despite what Edith had implied, he doubted Montgomery's feelings for the lady were insincere. The emotion in the man's eyes had spoken of more than just the casual bedding of a vulnerable widow. A sigh escaped him as he fidgeted. Things were about to change for Isobel and Montgomery.

  No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than the lady herself entered the hall. At the sight of her, a twinge of excitement jabbed his stomach. He was eager to share the information he carried. Sharing the lady's company also appealed to him, he realised, with some surprise.

  Isobel paused for a moment and looked about. The child by the hearth gave a small squeal, scrambled over an unfortunate dog, and ran to her, throwing his arms about her legs. Elias frowned as Isobel crouched to hug the boy, showing obvious affection. Was the child hers then? It certainly appeared so.

  As she rose to her feet, she noticed Elias and nodded in recognition. She then said something to the boy, who responded with a reluctant nod of his own before returning to his spot by the fireplace. Elias stood as she approached.