Wildewood Revenge

by B. A. Morton

  “When did you realise that Miles was your son?”

  “The first time I laid eyes on him, the day he landed in France, fleeing from Gerard the younger. The opportunity to spend time with him, to help mould him into the man he is, was a precious gift. I began to believe that my life once again had purpose. When he suffered Guy’s attack I thanked God I had the skills to save him.” He gave a bewildered shrug. “Do you not see the irony, Grace, if it were not for the fact that I have twentieth century skills he would have died. And yet if I had not travelled he would not have been born.” He ran a hand through his hair and refocused. “It is a subtle balance, Grace, even after all my time here I have no real answer. I can only act upon the facts that are known to me and my own conscience. If my actions have influenced the future, then I justify it with the belief that they are not changes, but are meant to be.”

  “And yet you’ve not revealed your relationship. Miles thinks he is the bastard child of a family he despises, why would you have him believe a lie when he holds you in such high regard?”

  “For that very reason. His regard for me would cease to exist if he knew I had abandoned him and his mother for no good reason.”

  “Tell him the truth, he would understand.”

  “I cannot tell him the truth, and neither can you, Grace. Remember where we are, when we are, this is a time of great suspicion, you yourself have been accused of witchcraft. Miles would not understand, no one would understand. We exist in this life simply because we do not reveal the truth. I know you are tormented with the intrigue, how you dance around the deceit, how close you are to revealing your origin, but I would caution you against it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because unlike me, you are able to return, your gateway is marked. And as I have already said it is imperative that you do so to safeguard you and your baby.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why I can’t tell Miles, he is not like the Gerard’s of this world. He wouldn’t bay for my blood or demand the building of a stake. He’s not stupid, Hugh, he is your son. Surely you can see that he shares your reasoning and intellect. He would understand.”

  “Perhaps you’re right but we shall never know because he must never be told. If he knew the truth he would certainly accept the reason why you cannot stay. He holds you above his own life. He would rather die himself than endanger you or his child, and he would not be parted from you. He would not let you go alone.

  I have no knowledge of how this strange phenomenon works. You are the first of our kind that I have come across and have no idea whether one may pass freely between times if a doorway remains open. If Miles was able to travel with you he may be unable to return. The future of Wildewood depends upon him being here. If he is not here to lead against what is to come then unspeakable hurt will befall all who reside here. You must understand, Grace, as I tried to explain to Miles many months ago. He has a role to play which is vital and far greater than any individual need. I know this because of my knowledge of the future. It may not be what you want to hear, but it is the truth, Grace.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? That you’re not some madman in league with Gerard plotting to get rid of both me and Miles?”

  Hugh cocked his head, there were footsteps approaching, he dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “Grace, think about it. In your time did you know of Wildewood? Had you heard of this estate?”

  “No.”

  “Yet you had heard of the de Frouville’s and the castle at Ahlborett?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you see, simply by being here you have changed the course of history. When you go back everyone will have heard of Wildewood. That will be your legacy, your gift to Miles. Because of you the legend of the Wildewood Horde was created. They will soon be as much a part of local history and lore as the dragon that rests upon the great stone or the creature in the lake.”

  “But what will Miles think if I suddenly disappear? He’ll think I don’t love him, that I’ve taken his child from him.”

  “Does he know of the child?”

  She thought of the way he held her, his tenderness, his patience in waiting for her to admit what she was sure he already knew. “He suspects.”

  “If you remain there will be no child or no mother...”

  “If I do as you say and go back, could I return later after the child is born?” Perhaps there was a way to salvage this terrible situation.

  “I have no experience of this, Grace. But to have any chance at all, the doorway must remain intact. My own was destroyed when the WW1 trenches were filled. Yours may still remain open simply because of the ancient woodland in which it lies. If tree felling were to infringe upon the wood where you fell then we must assume that the portal would close forever.”

  Grace’s heart sank. If she were to wait until nearer the birth of her child, then she may lose the only way back to the greed of the timber merchants.

  “What choice do I have?” she asked desperately as she heard the low timbre of Miles’ voice outside the door.

  “If you go back you may well break Miles’ heart but you ensure his safety along with yours, your child’s and the future of Wildewood. If you stay I cannot guarantee the outcome.

  “What do you really know about Miles’ role? How do you know that his future here is so important? The king hinted that Miles was important to his plans, but Miles was adamant that he didn't want to be drawn back into a life he’d turned his back on.”

  Hugh smiled. “And that is exactly why he needs to stay. The king intends for something that must not be allowed to happen. Only Miles can stop it and he needs to be here to do so. I am not a soothsayer I cannot look at the leaves and predict the future. I know only key events and my knowledge of those alongside the fact that I have the Kings ear, has served me unerringly. Trust me, Grace, you must go back. If you stay and perish in childbirth you will deliver a far crueller blow to Miles than if you disappear from his life now.”

  Chapter Forty Five

  A dose of Martha’s potion was enough to sort her out and by morning the pain had gone and her temperature returned to normal. Grace convinced herself that food poisoning rather than anything suggested by Hugh was responsible. But the seed had been sown and she could think of nothing but his revelations. She avoided Hugh to the point where she began to wonder if his confession had merely been a figment of her imagination, a hallucination brought on by her illness, but she could not avoid the simple truth. Any medieval childbirth was fraught with danger. She knew that her own mother had required a caesarean delivery due partly to her diminutive stature and it was highly likely that she would require the same. Hugh had already made it clear he was not skilled enough to assist and unwilling to take a risk.

  A decision would have to be made and she swung between leaving it as late as possible so that she could postpone her parting from Miles, to the very real need to act before the baby was due. At the back of her mind was the thought that her angst could all be in vain, if in her absence the tree fellers had levelled the wood.

  The preparations for the wedding went ahead regardless and she was swept along as Martha and Belle created a beautiful gown, a feast was prepared and Linus talked excitedly of nothing else. On a glorious morning toward the end of May, as the sun kissed the treetops and marked their way east, the folk from Wildewood made the long journey through woods resplendent with bluebells and birdsong to Ahlborett and gathered at the tiny Kirk Knowe chapel to support their lord and his bride. Grace waited in the priest’s room at the rear of the chapel as Martha and Belle put the final touches to her gown and fixed Mayflowers in her hair.

  “Ye look perfect, mistress,” said Martha as she stood back in admiration. “Sir Miles will reckon he’s died an’ been taken by angels.”

  Belle, cracked the door, and peeked through the gap. “They be waitin’, my lady.”

  Grace took a breath and tried to calm her nerves. She clasped her shaking hands around the small posy of bluebe
ll and hawthorn that Linus had gathered for her. The thought of leaving Miles was just too difficult to contemplate; leaving Linus was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She couldn’t avoid the decision much longer, she knew that. Soon her pregnancy would be obvious to all and she would be unable to make the journey by horseback across the moor and back to the wood where Miles had found her.

  “Mistress don’t ye be weepin’ now,” said Martha as she dabbed at Grace’s face with the corner of her apron. “Saints above, tis the happiest day of any woman’s life and here ye are blubbering like ye wer goin’ to yon gallows. Ye’r weddin’ the catch of Northumberland, mistress,” She gave a sly grin. “I know I’d have a smile on me face if I were in yer position. That old bugger of mine gave up tryin’ to keep me happy years ago.”

  Belle giggled which set Martha off and Grace could not resist a smile. The two were incorrigible. “Of course I’m happy, Martha. I’m just overwhelmed by it all. You’ve all been so kind to me. It truly is a perfect day.” It was true, she was overcome with the kindness she’d been shown. The tears were solely for Miles and what she was planning to do to him.

  “Are you ready, my lady?” Hugh stepped from the shadows and took her small hand in his. “You look beautiful, Grace. Miles is indeed a lucky man.”

  “Is he?” Grace struggled to contain her emotion. Was she not compounding her deceit with this charade? Taking vows to be his forever when she knew that was impossible.

  Hugh dipped his head to press a gentle chaste kiss on her pale cheek. “He will remember this day always, with happiness; leave him with that memory at least.”

  * * *

  Miles stood at the altar with John at his side. The big man grinned broadly. All at Wildewood shared his delight at the wedding of their lord. Grace had stolen their hearts. Miles swung his gaze around, nodding his acknowledgement at the many members of the household who squeezed into the tiny chapel. Edward and Linus stood proudly together. Tom Pandy poised with his pipes. At the rear of the gathering Thomas of Blackmore, who had arrived to represent Hugh’s Templar’s, favoured Miles with a broad smile and Miles was heartened by his effort in attending. He knew the men had been busy in Lincoln, he’d heard there was trouble brewing and that even Hugh would be leaving soon.

  He sensed there was change afoot, that the king was orchestrating something and had been unsettled by it for some days. There was a gathering of momentum as if something critical to his future was about to happen and he was powerless to intercede. He could not forget Edward’s last conversation and the promise he’d made to Grace. He would not venture down that path again. His conscience would not allow it. He flicked his gaze between Thomas and Linus and shook off unwelcome memories. His unease remained however and he knew his distraction at recent events had affected Grace.

  He’d noticed the change in her behaviour, since their return from Alnwick. The hand straying to her hair, the distant worried looks when she thought he wasn’t looking and her reluctance to confide in him about her most precious secret. The one she carried in her womb. He had waited patiently, his joy at the knowledge that he was to be a father tempered by her reluctance to trust him. He’d put it down to wedding nerves. Perhaps with a ring on her finger she would finally realise they were meant to be and he could announce to the household that an heir would be born. Today all the insecurity and secrets would end and they could enjoy the rest of their life together.

  He nodded to Tom Pandy who took up the pipes and he turned as the chapel door opened and Hugh emerged with Grace on his arm. His throat tightened with emotion as he watched her approach. She was beautiful. As she looked at him he saw the tears in her eyes and fought back his own.

  He cleared his throat, took her hand from Hugh and they turned to make their vows.

  Chapter Forty Six

  The celebrations continued into the early hours, though at midnight, to roars of approval from those gathered in the great hall, Miles carried his bride to his chamber.

  “Bloody hell, Miles, who on earth invented spiral stairs?” said Grace, as he narrowly avoided taking her head off as he rounded yet another curve. She was putting on a brave face determined not to let what was to come, spoil their wedding night. “I’ll be unconscious before you get me where you want me at this rate.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be fit for naught by the time I’ve climbed all these stairs.” He struggled to open the chamber door with one hand and with a measure of relief deposited her on his bed. Collapsing next to her he drew in a much needed breath and allowed a slow smile. “I’d mention about the additional weight, but as we are all now aware, there’s a very good reason for that.” He reached across and pressed gentle lips against the swell of her abdomen.

  Grace felt her heart constrict, bereft at what was to come. Miles had announced the forthcoming birth with such pride and the household had been jubilant at the thought of an heir. She’d accepted their good wishes graciously and studiously avoided eye contact with Hugh. Any control she may have had over the situation seemed to have been taken from her. Now Miles knew for certain that she carried his child, she knew he would covet her, protect and attend to her with utmost devotion, which would make it all the more impossible for her to leave him.

  “You’re very quiet,” remarked Miles as he watched her in the candlelight.

  She cast aside her anguished thoughts and sought a mischievous smile to cloak her sadness, “Just wondering if you’re going to be a good husband.”

  Miles reached across and began to remove the flowers from her hair. “And how do you think a good husband should behave?” As each flower was cast to the floor he pressed a kiss to her cheek, her nose, her downcast eyelids.

  “Oh, pandering to my every whim, getting up through the night with the baby...” she struggled to continue, her words catching in her throat as she realised that he would never get the chance to hold his child.

  “I imagine I could do that, if I had to. Are you going to be a good wife I wonder?” He began to unfasten the many tiny laces that adorned the front of her gown, muttering impatiently at the complexity. “Are you going to obey me as a good wife should, and submit to my every demand?”

  “Never,” she replied and with a smile she reached up framing his face with gentle hands. She gazed at him taking her fill, storing up memories for the time when that was all she would have. His hair was now short and she much preferred it. He’d been clean shaven too at the start of the day, but now a dark shadow cloaked his jaw and she felt it prickle her skin. He watched her through half closed eyes, and the desire in them matched the sadness in her own. How could she do it, how could she walk away from this man? Hugh had said she would not survive if she stayed, but how could she survive if she left without him. She pulled him down to her and sought solace and oblivion.

  * * *

  If she had thought she would have difficulty in slipping away, her fears were proved unfounded by the news delivered the following day. Thomas of Blackmore, who had shared the joy and celebration of their wedding, revealed his true purpose in making the long journey from Lincoln to Wildewood. He had come on the king’s orders to fetch Hugh and Miles to join the other knights in support of his campaign in Gwynedd against Llywellyn Gruffud.

  “No...” protested Grace. This was too cruel, she had imagined she would have days, weeks even, to acclimatise herself to the notion of leaving Miles. She’d never imagined that he would be taken from her first.

  “I must go, Grace. The king demands it and as we have discussed before, what the king has given, he might also take away. I cannot refuse him.”

  Grace sobbed wretchedly. “But you said you wouldn’t get drawn back into anything; that you would resist.”

  “I’m going to support the king, alongside men I trust. I do not intend to deviate from an honourable course. It’s a skirmish that has the king worrying unnecessarily, we shall have the upstart Gruffud defeated by the summer’s end.” He turned to include Hugh. “Isn’t that right, Hugh, we shall run off
these usurpers and I shall be home in plenty time to greet my child.”

  Hugh nodded slowly. “Grace, I shall ensure Miles returns safely to Wildewood. The venture is perhaps ill-timed but the sooner we leave, the sooner Wildewood will have its lord returned...,” he patted her arm kindly, “...and the easier it will be for you.”

  She knew what he meant; the easier it would be for her to slip away while Miles’ back was turned. “When do you leave?”

  Miles took her hand “Thomas awaits us now, Edmund is preparing the horses.”

  “You’re not taking Edmund surely?” They were all leaving her, she couldn’t bear it. She felt tears hot against her cheeks and Miles pulled her to him with a sigh.

  “Edmund will stay, as will John, together they will watch over you. I trust them both.”

  “But, what if Gerard reneges on the truce in your absence?”

  Miles gave a sour smile, “You need not worry about Gerard, he too has been summoned at the king’s command and accompanies us; reluctantly albeit.” He took her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. “Grace, all will be well, I will return in time for the birth. I would never abandon you. You know that.”

  Grace clung to him, inhaling his scent as if her very life depended on it. “I love you...” she whispered as he pulled gently away.

  “I know you do.”

  “No, I really love you...more than you’ll ever know.”

  She watched them as they rode away, Miles, Hugh and Thomas. Three brave knights off to fight for the king. She’d not had time even to say her goodbyes to Hugh, though the look he cast her way as they cantered through the gateway was enough to reassure her that he would keep Miles safe, and that thought alone would sustain her through the coming months.