He was carrying something in his arms. Since it was growing dark, they couldn’t really see what it was, but Josephine knew. She left Andrew’s side to rush out to Sully, helping him with the bundle. Sully set the bundle to its feet and it was suddenly clear that it was a child or a very tiny adult. Sully had hold of one side of the person as Josephine had the other, and they slowly made their way towards Andrew.
In fact, that was when Andrew began to take notice. The more he watched, the more suspicious he became and, abruptly, he came off the steps of the church and headed for the approaching figure as if nothing was wrong with him in the least. He was moving with surprising strength.
Ridge and Thane and Donald tried to keep up with him, in case he collapsed again, but he didn’t seem to need their support. But the moment Andrew gazed at the face of the tiny figure between Sully and Josephine, he began to waver. In fact, he staggered, the suspicion on his face turning into utter astonishment.
The man was in shock.
“Mother?” he whispered. “My God… Mother?”
Lady Elaine looked up at her tall, mighty son, her ghostly-pale face illuminated in the light torches that were in iron sconces on the steps of the chapel. For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then, a smile spread across her face, lit with the joy of a thousand happy memories.
“You have grown since I last saw you,” she murmured.
Andrew could hardly believe it. He tried to move towards her, to embrace her, but his legs wouldn’t work correctly. He fell to his knees again and Elaine, who had hardly been able to walk herself, rushed up to him, putting her arms around her boy. As Josephine stood back with tears in her eyes, Andrew buried his face in his mother’s cold, poorly-dressed torso and wept.
It was more than he could take, more than he had ever hoped for. Everything he’d dreamed of, the longing he’d felt all of these years, vanished in those few brief seconds when his mother held him in her arms and, for just a few moments, he was a child again. A child who had terribly missed his mother.
“Mother,” he whispered. “My God… my sweet mother… I did not know if you would still be alive.”
Elaine held him tightly, feeling the warmth and strength of her youngest son in her arms once more. She was shockingly composed as Andrew came apart.
“I could not go without seeing you again,” she said in a tone that all mothers use when comforting a child. “Somehow, I knew you would still be alive. From the moment you were born, you were a strong and beautiful baby, and I knew you were destined for great things. Your brother tried everything he could to rob you of your life, but you were too strong for him. Your light, your goodness, was too strong for his darkness. You are my angel of righteousness and justice, Andrew. I could never leave this earth without seeing you again.”
Andrew pulled his face from the folds of her dirty garment, gazing at her with such love and delight that there wasn’t a dry eye in anyone witnessing the reunion. It was so very sweet, and so very touching.
“I am so sorry I did not come sooner, Mamma,” he said, his big hand reaching up to touch her face as if to convince himself that she was real. “I wanted to be able to defeat Alphonse, not simply damage him. I wanted to be able to punish him for what he’d done to you. Please forgive me for not coming sooner.”
Elaine cupped his face with her tiny, cold hands. “You came when it was right that you should,” she said, seeing his tremendous guilt. “I am still here. We are together again. There is nothing more to worry over.”
To Andrew, it was as if she’d never left him. He felt like he did when he was a child, and his mother was always there to encourage and reassure him. The joy he thought he’d lost when he was separated from her returned full-force, and he stood up and embraced his mother as tightly as he dared. She was alive.
She was here.
He could hardly believe it.
But as he held his mother, he caught sight of Josephine standing a few feet away, wiping the tears from her eyes. It was such a beautiful reunion and he was so very glad she was a part of it. In fact, she had instigated it. When he reached out a hand to her, Josephine came to him and he pulled her into their embrace, holding the two women he loved best in this world.
For him, this night had brought his life full circle – married to the woman he loved, and his mother returned to him. From this point forward, his life was going to be a grand and satisfying thing, indeed. If one believed in things like karma or fate, the ballad of The Red Fury was a tale of all things great and powerful – a tale of good over evil, of wrongs that were righted, and of love everlasting.
In the years to come, as men would sing great songs of battle, of the mercenary who had killed his wicked brother in order to save the women he loved, there were those who wondered if such tales were really true, for certain, men like The Red Fury became more legend than truth over the centuries. Myth and fact often became twisted, combined to create stories of valor for men to bring them hope and courage.
Men like The Red Fury embodied hope and courage.
Passing into legend, their legacies would live on.
EPILOGUE
Summer, 1234 A.D.
It was a field of yellow flowers that had her attention.
Outside of the postern gate of Haldane, negotiating with a farmer who had brought a wagon full of bushels of dried beans with him, Josephine could see the field of flowers of to the north and, like a siren’s call, the lure was nearly too much for her to bear. She would have loved to have run through them. Quickly, she finished up her negotiations, paid the farmer, and had him bring the bushels in through the gate and into the kitchen yard.
But she remained outside, her gaze on the flowers.
In fact, the entire countryside seemed to be full of flowers. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and, inside Haldane, life had changed drastically. Sometimes it was hard to believe just how drastically.
Josephine turned to the kitchen yard of Haldane, seeing the moated keep beyond and a good portion of the outer bailey. It didn’t even look like the same place, the one she’d first come to last autumn. It had been such a dark, terrible place under the thumb of a heavy, dark man. She remembered thinking that everyone seemed to be bent over, cowering under the weight of Alphonse’s oppression.
But it wasn’t like that now, nor had it been since Andrew had taken the helm. In fact, the man had injected life into a dying castle, and into a dying family, like a bolt from heaven. Now, Haldane was returning to the place it was before the event of Alphonse, a name that no one mentioned these days. It was gone, erased, turned to dust and scattered upon the wind.
Haldane Castle was finally healing.
Josephine stood there a moment, reflecting on the past several months and rubbing at her gently swollen belly. Andrew’s son was due in a couple of months; at least, Andrew made sure everyone knew it was his son, as if Josephine had nothing to do with it. It was a running gag between them these days. He would ask about his son, put his face down next to her belly to speak to the boy, and then tell Josephine how great and powerful his son would be, and how, together, they would conquer the world.
Because of this, Josephine swore she was going to run off and have the baby in secret just so she’d have a chance to bond with the child before Andrew ran off with him to raise him alone, raising him in a group of knights like a pack of wolves. Andrew thought that was quite funny. Josephine did not.
But a smile came to her lips as she thought on her husband and his great love and enthusiasm for his family. She’d never seen anyone so attentive or sweet, both to her and to his mother. It was almost as if the man was still atoning for the guilt he’d carried around all of these years. But as time passed, that guilt, too, was fading.
As Josephine headed back towards the small bridge that crossed the moat and led into a side entrance of Haldane, she saw Andrew coming towards her from the gatehouse. He waved when she looked at him and she came to a pause, shielding her eyes from the bright sun and
waving back.
“How is my son?” Andrew asked.
Josephine cocked an eyebrow. “You saw me not an hour ago,” she said. “He was fine then, and he is still fine, but I am growing fatigued. I believe I will go inside and lie down for a while.”
Andrew was immediately at her side, putting an arm around her shoulders. “And I shall escort you,” he said, worried. “We must take care of you and my son.”
Josephine eyed him. “You were never this concerned for me when it was only me,” she said. “I am starting to think you love this child more than you love me.”
He grinned at her, that flashy grin that could always soften her. “I think I love you a little more,” he said. “But only a little.”
“Thank you. You are quite kind.”
It was a sarcastic response and he snorted, kissing her on the side of the head as they began to head into the castle. But abruptly, he came to a halt. “I nearly forgot what I came to tell you,” he said. “A messenger has arrived from Torridon, in fact. Donald is at the gatehouse as we speak.”
Josephine was immediately interested in the arrival of her friend. “Bring him in!” she said. “I would see him!”
Andrew nodded. “You will,” he said. “I told him to meet us in the hall. He has a great deal to tell.”
“Like what?”
Andrew resumed their walk, now heading into the shadows of the keep as they moved for the side entrance. “There is a good deal that has happened these past few weeks, evidently,” he said. “First and foremost, Alexander finally had a conference with Colin Dalmellington and told Colin that one more move against Torridon, however small, and the king would strip him of everything. Donald says that Sully is greatly pleased by that.”
Josephine looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Then he kept his promise,” she murmured. “He promised he would keep Colin away from Torridon if you… if you…”
Andrew knew what she meant. She still couldn’t bring herself to speak of that horrible battle in the chapel of Haldane, where Andrew avenged his mother, Nicholas, and Josephine. Alphonse’s death simply wasn’t something they spoke of. The man was dead, and the terror was over. That was all that mattered, and they refused to reintroduce that darkness into their lives, even in conversation. Andrew gave her a gentle squeeze.
“Aye, he kept his promise,” he said quietly. “Torridon needs this peace. The last time I was there, the walls were almost completely repaired, and the structure was in good condition, so the promise of a Dalmellington peace is the best possible news. Now, Sully will have a fortress that isn’t constantly under siege and your sister can deliver their child without the threat of war hanging over them.”
Josephine’s smile grew as her thoughts shifted from the king’s fulfilled promise to her sister’s impending baby. “I cannot wait to hold my nephew,” she said. “Won’t it be lovely that our son and Sully and Justin’s son will grow up together?”
Andrew nodded, caressing her shoulder as they headed into the dark confines of the keep. “But my son will be the stronger and more intelligent of the two,” he said.
Josephine laughed softly. “That is a terrible thing to say.”
“It is not terrible if it is true.”
She simply rolled her eyes at the man’s ego. As they came in through the side entrance, it opened up into an alcove that was attached to the two-storied hall of Haldane, which now proudly flew the new d’Vant banner, something that he’d had commissioned to incorporate the de Carron crest.
Now that Josephine and Justine were the last of the de Carron line, Andrew only felt it was right to continue that line in the new d’Vant crest. Originally, the de Carron crest had been two black serpents facing each other against a field of white, but Andrew added a sword in the middle of them. Demon Slayer, he had told Josephine, who had wholeheartedly agreed to the addition.
In fact, Andrew stopped to admire his new crest as it hung from the beams near the hearth. Demon Slayer was also above the hearth, having been anchored there by Andrew and Sully, as a memorial to those days of vengeance that were now gone. Andrew had even sent a missive to Abe in Edinburgh to let the old man know that Demon Slayer had, indeed, lived up to its name. He knew the old man would have been pleased.
“Lady d’Vant!” Donald entered the hall, his fond attention on Josephine as she stood next to her husband. As Donald walked, he tossed off cloaks and saddlebags, leaving a trail for the servants to pick up. “Ye’re looking quite well, my lady. Have ye been well?”
Josephine smiled at her dear friend. “I have,” she said. Then, she held up a hand. “If you’ve come to tell me again that your father wants me to name my son after him, then save your breath. Andrew and Ridge have already put in their requests, so I am not in need of any more names.”
Donald grinned. “My father’s attention has turned to other prospects.”
“What other prospects? Do not tell me he is hounding Justine to name her child after him!”
Donald laughed. “Nay,” he said. Then, he puffed up a little. “It is quite possible that I have a marital prospect, ye know. My father now has hopes that I will name a future son after him.”
Andrew and Josephine looked at each other, amused. “Is this so?” Andrew demanded. “Do tell, lad.”
Donald looked quite proud of himself as he took a seat at the long, scrubbed feasting table in front of the hearth.
“’Tis no one ye know,” he said. “There is a lass from Edinburgh that has had my attention. I met her when we went to save Josephine from her marriage to yer brother. Red-haired, delectable dimples – her father is the wealthiest merchant in town, which makes my father very happy. Paget is her name.”
Josephine was genuinely thrilled. Andrew helped her to sit opposite Donald and took a seat next to her. “That is wonderful news, Donald,” she said. “I am very happy for you. I should like to meet Paget someday.”
Donald nodded. “Ye will,” he said, “although I think de Reyne had his eye on her, too. Her father did business at the castle. That is how we both saw her.”
Josephine glanced at Andrew, seeing that the man was fighting off a grin. “No offense, Muir, but Ridge de Reyne has a bit more of a pedigree than you do,” he said. “Are you both competing for the same woman?”
Donald shook his head. “Ridge has gone south,” he said. “That is something else I came to tell ye. Ridge has asked to be released from his oath to Alexander and, after everything that happened with Nicholas and Blackbank, Alexander released the man. Evidently, he is making his fortune now in the tournament circuit and doing very well from what I’ve heard. He took some of the king’s inner circle with him, knights who worked closely with him. I suspect he’ll be dropping by to visit ye one of these days.”
It was surprising news about Ridge but, in a sense, not so surprising. Ridge de Reyne was destined for greater things than a mere king’s bodyguard. Both Andrew and Josephine felt that way.
“I hope he does,” Andrew said. “If he grows bored of the tournament circuit, then I know a mercenary army that could use his sword.”
Donald grinned. “That has become Thane’s domain,” he said. “How is the man coming along, by the way?”
“He is doing very well,” he said. “He maintains The Red Fury name and reputation. That has not changed, and he has more work than he can handle. But he says men find it strange that a big, blond knight bears the name of The Red Fury. They do not understand it, except for those men who worked with me in the past and knew of me. But that is a part of my life that no longer exists. The Red Fury that I was has passed into legend.”
Donald watched the man’s expression, seeing absolutely no remorse in that statement. The Andrew d’Vant he’d known for the past several months was a man of contentment, skill, and wisdom, as he’d proven in bringing Haldane Castle back from the brink of death. Once known as The Red Fury, that was a name that Thane now used, carrying on the fearsome mercenary tradition.
“It does
not matter,” Donald said quietly, his eyes glimmering warmly. “Ye’ll always be The Red Fury to me, no matter who assumes the name.”
Andrew gave him a lopsided grin. “Mayhap,” he said. “But I am quite content being the Earl of Annan and Blackbank, as my father had wanted. I have a very big task restoring the castle and my family name. That is the greatest legacy I could want.”
Donald understood somewhat. He started to reply but a small figure caught his attention, entering through the main hall entry. Lady Elaine shuffled into the room, some flowers in her arms from the newly-restored castle garden that she and Josephine had tried so hard to coax back to life.
Dressed in fine clothing, Elaine looked like a completely different person. The woman still walked hunched over as a result of all of those years in a low-ceilinged vault, but she had filled out and regained her health for the most part. She was sweet and thoughtful, and Josephine was absolutely in love with the woman. Having lost her mother so early in her life, Elaine filled a void that Josephine never really knew she had. Therefore, when the woman entered the room, Josephine stood up in spite of her husband’s protests, and made her way over to Elaine and her flowers.
“Look, Josephine,” Elaine said proudly. “The foxgloves have bloomed.”
Josephine smiled at the woman’s excitement. “There are many of them, too. This whole castle will be filled with flowers soon enough.”
Elaine handed a couple of stalks to her, with very pretty deep-pink flower bells. “They are very old plants,” she said. “Andrew’s father’s mother said they had been planted a hundred years ago. I do not know if that is true, but they certainly make beautiful blooms. It is good to see them alive again.”
Living life through Elaine’s eyes over the past few months had been a wondrous experience for Josephine. For a woman who hadn’t seen the world in so many years, everything around her was full of excitement and joy. Josephine often thought that was how people needed to always live their lives – with joy and excitement. Since marrying Andrew, that was exactly what Josephine had tried to do. The world was wonderful again and she was happy.
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