by The Prisoner
Was Loutrant’s tale true? Had his true parentage fed his resentment of Brian and all the Fitzroys over the years?
“Do you have any idea what it was like being William’s son?” Loutrant’s voice was filled with bitter sorrow. “He hit my mother so hard once he broke her jaw. But you wouldn’t know, would you, Fitzroy? You had the perfect life.”
“Loutrant.” Brian shook his head. He wasn’t sure how he felt at the news the man who’d held him captive all those years had been his half-brother. Sick to his stomach, for one. This fiend was related to Hugh? The man who’d cut Katherine’s throat with nary a regret?
Loutrant looked down at the ground in front of him, seemingly unaware Marcus was creeping ever closer.
“I finally worked up the nerve to speak with my real father. After all, he’d lost his oldest son, or who he thought was, anyway.” Loutrant paused and glanced pointedly at Brian. “I—I thought he would be…I don’t know, if not happy, at least interested, curious, something.”
Brian wanted to shout a warning to Marcus, whose recklessness would surely get him killed. Brian knew what Loutrant was capable of and thought Marcus probably did too. But his brain was screaming disaster.
And where was Constance? She was not with Loutrant. Was she even now in one of these caves along here as Marcus had told him?
Loutrant laughed. “But he was horrified. Hugh wanted naught to do with the monster who killed his son.”
“Why would you have thought one son could replace another to my father?” Brian shook his head. “Especially a son like you. He would have accepted you, Finius, if you had come years before, before you killed Katherine.”
“She betrayed me,” Loutrant spat. “With you.”
“You used her to get to me.”
“I don’t want to talk about her any more,” Loutrant said, his tone soulless. “I want to end this now. I’ve already taken care of Hugh, and now you.”
Brian lost the ability to breathe. “You—you what?”
Loutrant smiled. “My only regret was the poison didn’t kill his whore, too.”
Rage exploded in Brian. Did this man have to take everything from him? He took a step toward Loutrant, but stopped when movement on the ledge below them caught Brian’s attention.
Marcus jumped on Loutrant, his sword waving. Loutrant was knocked to the ground.
“Brian.”
Constance popped up from behind Loutrant. Brian, though, gladdened to see her safe, raised his hand to stop her.
“Stay there, Constance,” he urged.
He took another step toward Loutrant and Marcus, who were struggling on the rocky ground. Brian noticed they were precariously close to a ledge.
“Marcus, be careful,” he warned.
Footsteps scrambling above caught his attention. Brian glanced up and noted Lucien, Stephen and Trevor had finally made it to the cliffs. Brian held up a hand to stay them when Trevor seemed determined to make his way down the rocks. His son frowned but obeyed.
A bloodied Marcus slipped from underneath Loutrant and he rose, but his left foot slid on the loose rocks.
“Nay,” Constance cried, her heart nearly stopping. She reached out her arms as though she could stop Marcus from falling.
Loutrant hunched over, breathing heavily. He abruptly straightened and, taking a step forward, offered his hand with a sly smile. “Take my hand, Marcus.”
“Fin, please,” Marcus pleaded. His leg shifted off the ledge.
Constance ran toward him, her own slippered feet sliding. She stumbled and fell.
Loutrant kicked at the man he once called brother. Marcus yelled and grasped the ledge with his hands, both legs dangling over. Pebbles shifted to the rocks below.
Brian sprang to his aid but Loutrant turned, holding a sword aimed at Brian’s heart. Constance felt the pain in her own.
“Stay away, Fitzroy,” Loutrant snarled.
“You can’t let him fall, Loutrant,” Brian said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t be so cruel.”
But he could. Constance knew it and she was certain Brian did as well. She stood. If she could get to Marcus from her position, could she help him?
“Take a step further and I will pierce his heart with this blade, my lady,” Loutrant said, not even looking in her direction.
“Fin…I…help me,” Marcus gasped.
Loutrant’s laugh was short and pitiless. “Help you, Marcus? Surely you are making some great jest, are you not?”
“Fin.”
“You betrayed me, brother. In the end you chose the Fitzroys over me,” Loutrant said. “Just as everyone always does. Help you? Aye, there is one way I will help you.”
Without moving the sword he aimed at Brian’s heart, Loutrant ground his right boot down hard on first Marcus’ right hand, which caused him to yank his hand away, and then finally the left.
“Nay,” Marcus moaned, slipping from the rocky overhang.
Constance stuffed her hand in her mouth to stifle her scream. Marcus fell past first one and then another cliff, onto the last before the sea. The crack of his body slamming into the rocks turned her stomach. She dared a glance below and knew from the way his neck was twisted, Marcus was dead.
Loutrant shook his head, his smile pure evil.
“And now,” he said, very casually, as though they were talking about the harvest, “I will deal with you, Fitzroy.”
“It’s over, Loutrant,” Brian responded. “There is no way for you to escape us all. Even if you kill me, my family will avenge me.”
“My family!” Loutrant shouted, his face contorted, his color a dark murderous red. “They are mine. And you cannot take them away from me. Not this time. Not like you took Katherine.”
“Finius, Katherine would have loved you, but you showed her no kindness. She loved you in the beginning.”
“Until you turned her against me.”
Brian shook his head. “Nay, it was you who turned her against you.”
Constance watched Loutrant’s hand shake and the sword pointed at Brian with it. Up above, the rest of the Fitzroys had not moved. What were they waiting for? Didn’t they know Brian was about to die?
If they would do naught, then she would save him. But how? She crawled forward on her hands and knees, praying Loutrant had forgotten her presence.
“Life was always so perfect for you, wasn’t it?” Loutrant asked. “I used to dream I was you, did you know? Before you came to Katherine. When first my father…I mean William Loutrant died, I pretended to be you.” Loutrant laughed. “I even entered a tournament under your name. I didn’t win, but it didn’t seem to matter. Just your reputation was enough to have all the maidens come running to me.”
On her same rocky ledge, just under where Marcus had dangled, Constance spied the loaded arbalest Marcus had strapped to his back lying there. It must have fallen off when he fell. If she could get to it without Loutrant’s notice, she might be able to fire it.
“And your ring,” Loutrant continued, his voice lapsing oddly into the melodic tones of the minstrel. “It was hard to put it on the burned knight’s body. I wore it for days, wishing it could be mine.”
Constance’s hand closed around the heavy arbalest. Her father showed her how to operate one when she was young. She only hoped her aim was true.
“I have waited a long time for your death, Fitzroy. I should have killed you when I ended Katherine’s life. ‘Twas a misjudgment on my part, but one I will not repeat.”
Constance rose up on both knees, the arbalest grasped firmly in her hands, ready to shoot the arrow at Loutrant.
Brian stared down at the blade of Loutrant’s sword, his expression blank. He had not once looked in her direction but Constance knew he felt her presence. She supposed he did not want to draw their enemy’s attention.
On the cliff above Brian and Loutrant, Trevor had once more decided he was impatient at waiting. He descended several steps.
“Stay there,” Loutrant warned.
; Trevor stopped but moved his left hand to the hilt of his sword.
Loutrant pressed the point of the small sword at Brian. His hauberk stopped the sharp point, but if Loutrant thrust hard it would penetrate the mail.
Constance decided it was now or never. She raised the arbalest and aimed for Loutrant’s chest.
“Farewell, Finius,” Brian said, raising the dagger he had hidden in his hand.
Loutrant smiled, no doubt thinking he had triumphed at last.
Constance shot the arbalest, the arrow going straight to its target with amazing precision. She held her breath, watching the dawning horror on Loutrant’s face as he stared down at the arrow piercing his heart.
Loutrant turned, surprise clouding his eyes. “Constance?” he whispered, color draining from him, turning him a ghastly white.
Constance dropped the arbalest and stood. Her heart ached with pity and her stomach turned because of it. How could she feel sorry for a man such as Loutrant?
The sword he held clattered to the rocks. He fell to his knees, gasping for a breath.
Brian dropped his dagger and reached his arms down to her ledge. He grasped her hands and used his enormous strength to pull her up to his cliff. “Constance,” he whispered, studying her intently, all the feeling in the world infused in her softly spoken name.
She touched her fingers to his cheek, and they embraced.
Then Brian broke from her and knelt beside Loutrant.
Loutrant grasped Brian’s hauberk, his fingers tangling in the mail. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but the only sound he managed was a cough. Blood spurted from the corner of his mouth. Brian eased him down on the rocks.
Lucien, Stephen and Trevor came forward, the three of them pulling Constance into their arms one at a time and then all at once.
“Nay,” Constance said, when Trevor made to go to Brian and Loutrant. “Let them be.”
“You—you killed him,” Trevor said, awe in his voice, his jaw dropping open.
“I couldn’t let him harm Brian,” Constance whispered.
Loutrant sputtered from the ground and Brian leaned close.
“You…”
“Don’t talk,” Brian said.
Loutrant laughed but it came out more like a bark. “It—it really is over now, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” Brian nodded.
“You win, Brian,” Loutrant said. “But you always do.” His gaze stared straight ahead.
Brian closed Loutrant’s eyelids and bowed his head in prayer.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“We’re here, sweetheart,” Brian whispered in Constance’s ear. He’d stopped his horse short of the stables, allowing his brothers, son, and the men they’d brought with them to go on ahead. Behind them the sun turned the sky orange and red as it greeted the dawn once more.
She stirred in his arms. “What?”
He laughed low. “We’re home.”
Constance rubbed her eyes and straightened on Valiant. “Home?”
They’d left right after burying Loutrant and Marcus. She’d slept the entire ride home from the sea, obviously exhausted.
Brian dismounted and then reached up to assist her down. She leaned against him and he wrapped his arms tight around her. He would never let her go.
“You aren’t ever leaving my sight,” he told her. “I intend to watch you day and night.”
“Only if I am allowed to watch you,” Constance returned.
“I agree.”
Constance turned in his arms and gave him a serious look. “I am sorry about Hugh.”
Brian nodded. “So am I, but I have mourned my father. It is time to let go of the past.”
“Do you mean that?” Constance smoothed the lines of his forehead. “You once told me you wished to die in Loutrant’s dungeon.”
“I thought it was my destiny to die there. God’s ultimate punishment for my sins.”
“You do not feel that way now, do you?”
“Nay.” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “I wanted to die then because I felt as though I had naught to live for. I have much to live for now.”
“Such as?”
“My son,” Brian answered. “Mayhap a grandchild, though, I do not want to think too closely.” He smiled wryly. “And you.”
“And yourself.” Constance leaned up and kissed him. “You must want to live for yourself.”
“Aye.”
Constance sighed. “I am sorry for the loss of Marcus also. I think he wanted to be good.”
“One more victim of Loutrant.”
“At one time I thought of myself as a victim,” Constance told him. “And I thought you did as well. Another Katherine to be rescued. I did not want to be weak to you.”
Brian smiled. “You are no victim, sweetheart. If not for you, I would be dead at the hands of Loutrant. You are the bravest person I know.”
They shared a deep kiss, and then Constance pulled his arms back around her.
“Are you surprised about Hugh having sired Finius?” She asked against his chest.
“Nay,” Brian replied. “Well, mayhap a little. It’s a bit difficult to realize my father loved another woman before my mother.”
“He was nothing like any of you.”
“Aye, for he was raised by William instead of my father,” Brian agreed. “My father would have welcomed him if he’d come before any of this.”
Constance nodded. “I am certain you are right.”
“I usually am,” he teased her. He held her at arms length and kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you, you know.”
Constance caught her breath. “Nay, I did not know.”
His heart hammered in his chest. “Aye, I do. Very much. More than I have ever loved any one.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered. A single tear slid down her cheek and he brushed at it. “I have loved you since we were held prisoner. Mayhap even before.”
“Before?” Brian raised an eyebrow.
Constance smiled through the tears that now flowed down her cheeks. “I adored you even when I was a small girl.”
“I think I fell in love with you the first day you brought me that horrible trencher,” Brian admitted. “I did not recognize the feeling for a long time. I don’t think I ever knew what love was until you.”
“Oh, Brian.” Constance kissed him, her lips salty wet with her tears.
“I wasted a lot of years, sweetheart.” Brian went down on one knee in front of her. “I do not intend to waste any more.”
Constance blinked very rapidly. She backed up just a half step.
“I want children,” Brian explained. “Enough to fill the castle.” He laughed when she turned green. “I know it is a lot to ask of you. But I will do whatever I can to see you do not regret loving me.”
“I do not,” she assured him.
“Constance,” Brian said. “Will you become my wife, my lady fair? Will you forsake all others as long as we both shall live?”
Constance’s eyes shone with love and happiness. “As long as you promise we will live a very, very long time.”
“I vow it.”
Constance reached out her hands and helped him rise. He kissed her hard.
“Shall we go and tell the others our glad news?” Constance asked.
His grinned. “Are you in a great hurry, my sweet?”
Constance frowned. “Nay. Why?”
“The day promises to be a warm one,” Brian told her, casting his gaze briefly at the lightening blue sky. “I thought mayhap we could go the waterfalls and spend the day…”
She licked her lips in anticipation. “Aye?”
“Teaching you how to swim.”
A word about the author…
Sharon Lanergan has been writing since childhood when she first fell in love with ancient legends and romances of bygone eras. Though fascinated by those days of old, Sharon is grateful to live in California in the 21st Century.
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