Come the Morning

by Heather Graham

  Finishing his speech, Ulric smiled. Then, in a split second, he brought his knife to the man’s throat, and ripped it open. At his side, Eleanora screamed, wrenching away in pure horror. Mellyora lived in a violent world in which she’d seen death far too many times; and still, she’d never witnessed so brutally cold an act in all her life. She choked, clutching her stomach, backing away from the wall.

  Ulric had given no thought to the murder. None at all. It had meant nothing to him.

  The dead man fell. Ulric reached out for Eleanora, dragging her back against him. “Traitors, all! I will suffer no ill fate, Mellyora, for I am an English subject, while all of these people are treacherous bastards, cloying to the Scot’s king in times of trouble! I will give you just enough time to come out of the gates, lady. If I do not see your beautiful blue eyes before me in a matter of minutes, I will slash Eleanora’s throat. Your husband’s mistress, some say, eh? Will you let her die for such a sin? Or is the daughter of the great Adin too honorable to condemn her for such a reason?” he taunted.

  Waryk would come, Waryk would come …

  Aye, she could hold the fortress. The fortress could hold itself. She had always wanted to prove herself, and she’d had no choice but to do so, but now …

  “You know that I will do this thing!” Ulric thundered.

  “Aye, you’ll do it, we’ve seen that, Ulric!” she called out to him. She tried to keep her voice as cool as his. “But you’re right; Eleanora was long my husband’s mistress, while I am lady here, and Waryk’s wife.”

  “My lady! The ice in your heart makes me crave you all the more!” he cried out with mock gallantry.

  “Nay, Ulric. I will come out—”

  “Oh, madam, what a wise thing to do! Your charity toward those who have wronged you is most exemplary. I meant to give Eleanora one more chance. See whom I would have let die for her next!”

  Mellyora bit deeply into her lower lip as Ulric motioned to one of his men.

  Ewan, still weak, barely able to stand, was dragged forward. Her heart skipped a beat. Ewan, still loyal, still proud. To be dragged forward, threatened anew …

  “You would kill a man half dead already?” she demanded.

  She could see Ulric’s grin. “Aye, lady—”

  “Let him!” Ewan cried out with a sudden burst of strength. “Don’t surrender the fortress, Mellyora, don’t—”

  He broke off as Ulric spun around, striking him with a heavily gloved fist with such that he fell, knocked unconscious.

  “Half dead, all dead … what will it be, Mellyora MacAdin? The Lady Eleanora has a throat, so slim, so easy to cut …”

  “I told you that I’m coming out. But I want Eleanora and the rest of your prisoners. The gates will not open unless you make this agreement. I will not come with you to watch others coldly murdered after I have surrendered myself.”

  Ulric grinned, amused. “The other prisoners are but added weight. In good faith, I’ll send them toward the gates now. Eleanora comes when I see you through the gates.”

  “I will wait between the gates. When all your prisoners have entered past the portcullis and it has been closed again, I will come to you.”

  Mellyora backed away from the wall. Jon reached for her. “I can’t let you do this.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t let him butcher Eleanora or anyone else in cold blood like that, my God, did you see what he did to that poor man—”

  “Aye, a warrior, willing to die for Eleanora of Tyne, he was so sworn. You cannot die for her, Mellyora—”

  “He doesn’t want to kill me, Jon. He wants to use me. Against Waryk.”

  “And that he will.”

  Mallory stood at the wall with them, brooding over the matter. “We’ll offer him a ransom.”

  “He doesn’t want money, Mallory. He is seeking vengeance.”

  “You can’t go to him.”

  “But if I go to him, it will buy time. We have to have that time!”

  “I can’t let you go—” Jon began again.

  “What do we do against this enemy? He will kill, and kill again. He will bring forth all our people, and slay them one at a time before these walls. And I don’t really intend to go, Jon.”

  “Ah, Mellyora, he is dangerous—”

  “Jon! I know that, but I am the lady here, and God knows who else he is holding, who rode with Lady Eleanora when she came here.” She lowered her head. Once again, Ewan had been willing to die to defend the honor of his home. He was hurt out there. He was barely recovered from the last wounds he had received.

  But she was carrying Waryk’s child. Ulric knew that. She didn’t think that he wanted her so much; he wanted the gates opened. His only chance to storm the fortress.

  “Jon, listen, this can work. I can go between the gates, we can receive his prisoners … and then, close the main gates before he can come at us again.”

  Jon arched a brow. “You know that though he is saying that he will exchange you for the prisoners, he plans treachery already. When the portcullis opens to let the prisoners through, he plans to rush the gates.”

  “Aye, but we’ve more defenses than he knows. The oil is ready; our archers will set fire to their arrows, and his men will burn like tinder—they’ll have to retreat. He will not gain access to the fortress!”

  Jon sighed, looking down.

  “Jon, I am my father’s daughter, I know warfare. If I were laird here, would you question me?”

  He looked into her eyes. “I don’t question you. I fear for you.”

  She reached out, caught his hand, squeezed it.

  “Be ready, be prepared!” he called out to their archers.

  “Lady Mellyora! I will kill Ewan MacKinny if I do not see your lovely face very quickly now, and after Ewan, I slay the beautiful Eleanora!”

  She saw him conferring with Renfrew once again. Renfrew lifted an arm, and she knew that he was directing different men to rush the gate.

  She started down the stairs from the parapets to the portcullis, already being raised. It was heavy; the winches were difficult to man. “This must be closed quickly once our people are in. Have men ready to help them. They may be terrified and hurt …”

  May be. She would never forget Walter of Tyne, and the way that he had died, so coldly, so quickly, so mercilessly …

  The gates were open. She stood between the two sets, waiting. She stood very still, as if she were incredibly calm.

  The tenant farmers, craftsmen, and villagers from the mainland came first. She saw their gratitude in their eyes as they passed her, and saw their pity as well.

  The men came next. Garth, Tyler, Geoffrey … half carrying, half dragging Ewan along with them. Tyler spoke to her. “My lady, you can’t do this!”

  “Tyler, for the love of God, get in. Get Ewan on in, the others …”

  She didn’t recognize all the men. Eleanora’s escort, she assumed.

  “Send Eleanora, now!” she shouted to Ulric.

  Ulric pushed Eleanora forward, and the woman came. Mellyora saw her eyes briefly, and saw her thanks, and her admiration. Small comfort. She shivered. She would make it back inside, she told herself. But, for a moment she realized that Ulric might seize her. She might die. And Eleanora would be here …

  She closed her eyes, waiting.

  “Come out, Mellyora MacAdin!” Ulric demanded.

  She heard the sudden thunder of horses’ hooves. Aye, they were ready to storm the gates!

  “Close the portcullis!” she cried, and she raced for it.

  She was startled when Mallory suddenly came running out of the gates, toward her. “Mallory, have you lost your mind? Get in—” she began.

  But Mallory was grim-lipped. He gripped her hard by the shoulders, and was powerful for a man who had spent his days counting rents earned and monies spent. She was so stunned that she didn’t even fight back at first. Then, as she was thrust inexorably toward the front gate and away from the closing portcullis, she knew. She didn�
��t know how or why, but Mallory had willfully and determinedly betrayed her. When Ulric had known about the movements of those in the fortress, it was because Mallory had somehow sent him the information. He had known when Waryk would ride, when he would return. And now …

  “You bastard! Why?” she cried, aware that it was too late. The Vikings and Normans were rushing by. They’d be caught in the portcullis …

  But she would never reach safety.

  “For your father, for the Vikings!” he said.

  “Not for my father! My father became Scottish!”

  Mallory smiled at her ruefully while men rushed around them. “For the riches then, my lady. All these years, I have counted your revenues … all these years. So much … gold, silver, and coins. Now, lady, riches will be mine. I will go a-Viking.”

  Ulric himself came riding hard to where she stood. “I’ve delivered her!” Mallory said proudly. “I will be rewarded—”

  She screamed as Ulric swiftly swung his sword, nearly decapitating Mallory. Blood sprayed over her. She tried to run, but the portcullis had closed. Ulric was on top of her. He reached down and caught her by her hair. She screamed again in pain, but he released her, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her up to the horse. He spun the animal around, racing away from the gates.

  She heard the horrible screams of the men caught between gates even as they rode from the walls of the fortress. She struggled against Ulric, fighting fiercely.

  She could smell burning flesh.

  From atop the wall, her men were shouting. The archers aimed at Ulric, but Jon cried out in fierce command. “Nay, you’ll hit our lady!”

  And Ulric was free to take her up.

  They kept riding. The scent of burning flesh seemed to permeate her nostrils. The screams of the dying rose all around her.

  The fortress had been saved, she realized.

  But she was lost herself …

  CHAPTER 24

  They arrived too late.

  With Daro and his men at his side, Waryk realized that he had probably never ridden with such a ferocious force of men before.

  But it didn’t matter. When they reached the mainland, he saw the burned ruins of the new wall, and of many of the cottages. But he saw no bodies strewn about, and as they headed for the water to the isle, he suddenly heard the cheers that were arising from the fortress at his arrival. He looked anxiously to the wall. Even at his distance, he could see Eleanora, Tyler, Geoffrey, Thomas, Jon, Igraina, Jillian … even Ewan.

  But not his wife.

  He nudged Mercury and tore across the water. The gates opened as he reached the land and continued across the slope. He rode into the courtyard, and he was surrounded. Jon of Wick, Ewan, Eleanora, all trying to tell him what had happened.

  “A traitor within our own gates!” Jon cried to him furiously. “My lady was in command, she had a strategy, she could have saved those he intended to murder, and closed the gates upon him as well. But she was betrayed. By Mallory!” Jon spat on the ground.

  Ewan was ashen. He leaned upon Tyler, looked up at Waryk, and shook his head in misery. “Her plan was good. It would have succeeded. And he meant to murder more people, she had no choice …”

  Waryk felt as if ice swept his veins, as if he were cold beyond death.

  “Where is she?” he rasped out.

  And Ewan, pained, shook his head. “He took her. And rode away. And he is in great force; Lord Renfrew has made it into a battle between the Scots and the English. He claims he rides against Peter of Tyne and Eleanora, for betraying King Stephen.”

  “Where did they ride?” he demanded.

  “North, toward the settlements still largely Viking,” Ewan said. “I’ll ride with you—” he said, turning toward the stables.

  But he staggered, and fell. Eleanora gasped, rushing to his side. “Ewan, poor Ewan, I will stay with you, the others must ride now.”

  Waryk turned, and saw that Daro, Peter, Angus, and Ragnar and others had arrived behind him. He saw that Geoffrey, pained, stood in the courtyard as well.

  “Water, lad,” he said wearily. “We need water for ourselves, and the horses, and then we ride again. Northward.”

  Mellyora didn’t know where they were when they at last stopped.

  It was night, darkness surrounded them, but they had come to high ground with a natural stone boundary to the south, and Lord Renfrew commanded that it was the best place to make camp for the night.

  “We should push on,” Ulric argued.

  Renfrew disputed him. “Men falling from their saddles cannot fight. We don’t even know yet if Daro and Waryk have destroyed one another. If they have not …” He shrugged. “We can make a defensive stand here if we have to. Our troops are equal to Waryk’s, and we could win a major battle here.”

  Ulric remained disgruntled, but he dismounted, and shouted out orders to camp.

  A large command tent was quickly assembled for Lord Renfrew. Rugs were thrown over the bare ground, furniture was provided, a fire was built in the center so that the smoke could escape through the vents cut into the thick fabric of the tent.

  Mellyora was beyond exhaustion when she was brought before Renfrew.

  “So you are the Viking’s daughter, Waryk’s great prize.”

  She lifted her chin, and told him, “The property is the prize, Lord Renfrew. You failed to seize the property.”

  He arched a brow, comfortably taking a seat in a folding camp chair. He didn’t invite her to sit. “Ah, yes, men desire property. But then again, most men desire women as well. And you, as a wife with property … I imagine Laird Lion has the sense to appreciate his incredible good luck. As Adin’s daughter, you created quite a stir. Men vied for you, offered your father fortunes for your hand. And now, among other things, you have driven Ulric quite to distraction.”

  “He is easily driven to distraction then.”

  Renfrew grinned. He studied her so long that she began to feel a greater sense of fear. “He said that you threatened to kill yourself if he touched you.”

  “It wasn’t an idle threat.”

  Renfrew laughed. “Ah, but harder to do than you might imagine while the instinct to survive still rages within you. And I believe, my lady, that you are a fighter, a survivor. But then, Mellyora MacAdin, if I decide to explore for myself just what manner of prize you might be, I will not give a damn if you threaten to kill yourself or not. Of course, you won’t. What woman takes her own life when she carries the child of the man she loves, eh?”

  He stood suddenly, walking over to her, and around her. He touched her face, allowed his hand to fall to her breast. Her heart thundered, she longed to lash out at him, and she fought to control her temper. She carried a knife in a sheath at her calf. The knife she always carried. But she was surrounded.

  “Ah, wouldn’t you love to kill me, Viking’s daughter!” he said. “You should take care. I am keeping Ulric from you.”

  Was that true? It didn’t really matter. If she killed Renfrew, someone would kill her. And he was right in that she didn’t want to die. Not while she lived with hope.

  “You will not find me fascinating this evening, Lord Renfrew.”

  “Oh, and why not?”

  “I am exhausted. And sick. If you touch me—”

  “You’ll kill yourself. I’ve told you what I think of that threat.”

  She shook her head. “No, my lord Renfrew. I shall vomit all over you.”

  As she had expected, he backed away. He waved a hand toward her. “You may sleep in the pallet in the rear. Don’t try to escape. My men have been ordered to hack off your toes if they catch you so much as slipping outside. I will maim you, lady. I swear it.”

  She didn’t doubt it, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Whatever the morning brought, she would have to bear. She was too weary, and too relieved, to try to escape tonight.

  The pallet in the back offered her a little privacy. She had been left water with which to wash, ale to drink, and bread and che
ese to eat. She couldn’t manage the cheese; she wolfed down the bread. She scrubbed her hands and face, and lay down to sleep, staring into the darkness, wondering how it was possible to be so numb and in such pain at the same time. She was just so tired. She prayed that Waryk was alive. That he and Daro had made peace.

  What if they hadn’t? What if they had slain one another? How would she survive? How would she make herself care …?

  Tomorrow, she would find a way to fight again. Tomorrow.

  He would come for her. He was alive, and he would come.

  Waryk would come.

  She closed her eyes. Despite herself, she dissolved into tears. They were even more exhausting, and at last, she slept.

  They found the trail that night and followed it—it was not difficult to track such a large party of mounted men and baggage. By the following morning, they were not far behind, but Waryk saw, with Daro and Angus, that the enemy had found a spit of land on which to make a stand which offered them a natural defense. They would be at a severe disadvantage if they charged in without preparing their battle tactics. “We need to make a large shield, so that our men can approach and have refuge against the archers who will have the advantage of height,” Angus said.

  “Aye,” Daro agreed wearily, and Waryk, clenching his jaw in frustration, knew that they needed to take time and prepare. But he was desperately worried about Mellyora. She was a fighter, and Ulric was so brutal.

  But though they had as yet to be seen by the Viking camp, there had been women among the Vikings who had returned to the valley, and from them, Waryk was able to learn that Mellyora seemed to be well. She was being kept with Lord Renfrew, and though she had no freedom to move about the camp, she had been seen, and she was well.