“Come along,” he said softly.
It was a struggle to get down the spiral stairs. Joselyn was behind him, moving faster than he was, and he swore she would have run him down in her haste had he not had a good hold of her. When they reached the entry level, he took her into the small solar where he had taken her the first time they had met. This was the room where they had become acquainted with dark and short words to one another. He forced her to sit on a stool near the hearth as he took a flint stone and sparked some life into a bit of dry kindling. In little time, a warm fire was growing. When he was certain the blaze would not flare out, he turned to his wife.
She was perched on the stool, gazing at him expectantly. He put a massive palm over her hands folded in her lap.
“I will bring the boy to you,” he said. “I want you to stay here and think calmly on what you are going to say to him.”
She nodded, trying to think on his words but realizing she was too excited to adequately do so. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. As he stood up to leave, she grabbed his fingers. “I do not think I can be calm or emotionless when I speak with him,” she said, her gaze suddenly imploring. “Do you think… that is, would you tell him for me? I think you would do a better job of it than I can at the moment.”
His cornflower blue eyes twinkled. “I will tell him if that is your wish.”
“It is.”
He simply nodded, squeezed her hand, and quit the room. Joselyn heard his footsteps fade away, taking a deep breath and struggling to compose herself. As the fire snapped in the hearth and the room warmed, all she could do was wait for the moment she had dreamed of for eleven years. But she had never dreamed it would come about under these circumstances, not in her wildest fantasies. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and thanked God yet again for Stephen of Pembury.
In the dark dustiness of the bailey, Stephen made his way across the dirt towards the great gatehouse of Berwick. He glanced upwards, noting the sentries on the battlements and the faint light from the torches illuminating their way. All was quiet for the most part as he entered a small room on the ground floor of the gatehouse where the sentries usually congregated on cold nights. There was a hearth, a small table and little else. As soon as he entered the room which, with his bulk was no easy feat, he came face to face with a young boy seated at the table.
He would have known his wife’s eyes anywhere, for the boy most definitely had them. Big, pale blue eyes gazed up at him anxiously and Stephen had to swallow his momentary shock. The boy also possessed his wife’s fine features and he actually stared at the lad a moment, dumbfounded by the sight. He was the spitting image of Joselyn. The child had dark auburn hair, long around his ears, and as he stood up, Stephen noticed that he was already taller than his mother. He was a big, healthy lad. Stephen took a deep breath before speaking.
“You are Cade?” he asked.
The boy nodded. “I am, my lord,” he replied.
“I am Stephen. You will come with me.”
“Aye, my lord.” The boy’s handsome features twisted somewhat. “May I ask a question, my lord?”
“What is it?”
“Am I in trouble?”
Stephen suddenly realized how it must look to the child. A big man came to take him from virtually the only home he had ever known, without explanation, and brought him to an unfamiliar castle with strangers all around. Now another big stranger was making demands. If the boy was frightened, he didn’t show it, which pleased Stephen immensely.
“Nay, lad,” he motioned for the boy to follow. “Gather your belongings and come with me.”
Cade scooped up his measly satchel and did as he was told. He scampered after Stephen, walking very quickly to match Stephen’s big strides. As Stephen strolled back to the keep, Cade was fascinated by his surroundings. Ettrick Castle was not nearly as big as Berwick. He was distracted by the dogs upon the battlements for a moment and had to run to catch up with Stephen as the man drew near the keep.
Once inside the cool, dark keep, Stephen opened the first door they came to and ushered Cade inside. It was dark but for a small fire in the hearth. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Cade realized there was a young woman in the room, gazing back at him with eyes as wide as the heavens. One look at Cade and she suddenly burst into tears. While Cade was afraid he had done something to warrant such a thing, the massive knight closed the door to the solar and went to kneel beside the weeping woman.
Cade watched curiously, with some trepidation, as Stephen put his enormous arm around the woman’s shoulders and kissed her on the temple. Then the knight looked at him.
“As I said, my name is Stephen,” he said quietly. “I am Baron Lamberton, Guardian Protector of Berwick. This is my wife, the Lady Joselyn.”
Cade was not sure how to react, so he simply bowed because he didn’t know what else to do. But his gesture caused the lady to weep harder and he watched, wide-eyed, as Stephen comforted her.
“Cade,” Stephen began as gently as he could. “What do you remember about your childhood?”
Cade cocked his head. “Childhood, my lord?”
“When you were very small. What is your earliest memory?”
Cade blinked his big blue eyes thoughtfully. “I… I remember being with the nuns,” he said, having no idea why the knight was asking such questions. “I remember being in the gardens and eating carrots out of the ground. Is that what you mean?”
Stephen smiled faintly. “Aye,” he replied. “And your parents? Do you know anything about them?”
Cade shook his head, his deep auburn hair glistening in the flame. “Nay, my lord. I never knew my parents. I was told they died. That is why I went to live with the nuns. Why do you ask?”
By this time, Joselyn had stopped crying and she was gazing back at the boy with warmth and gentleness. He was very well spoken. Stephen glanced at her before continuing the conversation, noting the expression on her face. She was in love with the boy already. He continued carefully.
“I ask because the nuns were mistaken, Cade,” he said softly. “Your parents are not dead.”
Cade’s expression washed with disbelief and then confusion. “They are not dead?”
Stephen shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “Does this displease you?”
The boy had to think about it. He scratched his head, his brow wrinkling up into a frown. “I…I do not know,” he said honestly. “You say they are not dead?”
“Nay.”
“But how do you know?”
“Because Lady Joselyn is your mother.”
Cade’s focus was riveted to Joselyn, who struggled not to burst into tears again. She smiled timidly for lack of a better reaction as the boy stared at her, she thought, with some horror. After an eternity of silence and uncertain staring, Cade finally lowered his gaze and seemed to shrink away.
“I do not have a mother, my lord,” he turned for the door, unable to look at them, terrified by these confusing strangers. “Can I please go home? I want to go back to Ettrick.”
Joselyn looked at Stephen with horror but Stephen was fixed on the frightened, disoriented young man. He moved away from Joselyn and went to stand next to Cade, who was by now struggling not to cry. The boy’s head was lowered, his hair hanging over his eyes. Stephen cleared his throat softly.
“I realize this is a surprise, Cade,” he said softly. “You have been alone your entire life and suddenly a stranger says she is your mother. But you must not judge so harshly. It is not that your mother wished to be separated from you. What happened was out of her control. She loves you now and has always loved you.”
Big, fat tears rolled down Cade’s cheeks and splattered onto the dusty floor. Stephen knelt down beside the boy, feeling genuine sorrow for him.
“I am sorry that you are upset by this,” he said with concern. “It was not our intention to upset you but I am not sure there was any simple way to tell you this news.”
The boy just stood there as big t
ears rolled off his face. He was struggling so hard to be brave, wiping furiously at his cheeks as if angry at the tears for falling. He clutched his satchel to his chest, holding silent for quite some time as the news sank deep.
“I want to go home,” he whispered tightly.
“I would like for you to stay and hear me out. Will you do this?”
Cade shook his head, struggling not to sob. “I do not want to hear anymore. Please let me go.”
Stephen sighed faintly, not daring to look at his wife. He was afraid to see the anguish in her eyes. “Please, Cade,” he said gently. “Please let me finish. This is important.”
Cade just stood there, holding his satchel against him as if it were a shield to protect him. He was disoriented and frightened. But there was also a small part of him that was very, very curious and, more than that, desperately hurt. He didn’t even know why, but he was hurt.
“W-why?” he finally whispered.
“What do you mean?” Stephen asked softly.
Cade continued to silently weep, silently wipe at his wet eyes. “If she is my mother, why did I go live with the nuns?”
Stephen looked at Joselyn then; surprisingly, she was composed. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking imploringly at Stephen in response to Cade’s question. Stephen sighed faintly as he turned back to the boy.
“Because your father is dead and your mother was too young and too ill to tend you.” It was a sweet and noble lie. “She never stopped loving you, Cade. But she knew that the nuns could take much better care of you than she could. She loved you so much that she had to make a very hard decision that was best for you.”
Cade tried not to sob, fighting so hard to be strong. Watching the young man struggle just about broke Stephen’s heart. He was not beyond such compassion. Cade kept wiping at his damp face, trying hard to compose himself as he finally turned and looked at Joselyn. She returned his gaze with a surprising show of strength and composure.
“You should have kept me,” the boy suddenly hissed, though it was without force. “I am strong. I could have worked when I was old enough. You did not have to send me away where no one would love me.”
Stephen watched his wife’s reaction very carefully, hoping she would not crack, but the most she did was nod as if to agree.
“I was very ill when you were born,” she told the child. “I was also only twelve years old, just a year older than you are. I was very young, Cade. I did what I thought was best so that you would always have food in your mouth and a roof over your head. Please understand… understand that I loved you so much that I would do anything to ensure you had a comfortable life. To have kept you would have been selfish because there was no way I could have provided for you on my own. I loved you so much that I had to give you to someone who could take care of you.”
It was not exactly the truth but Joselyn was following Stephen’s lead. She was not sure Cade would understand how he really ended up at the abbey. Perhaps it was best to spare him some things. By this time, Cade’s tears were fading as he stared at the woman who looked a good deal like him. The pale blue eyes studied her carefully as he struggled to accept what he was being told.
“You were only twelve years old when I was born?” he asked, almost suspiciously.
Joselyn nodded. “Aye.”
“I will be twelve years old in two months.”
Joselyn couldn’t hold back the smile. “I know, on the fifth day of the month.”
Cade’s eyes widened briefly. “You know my day of birth.”
She laughed softly. “Of course I do.”
Oddly, that small gesture seemed to convince him. This whirlwind of a day that had brought stunning news still had his head spinning, but he wanted to believe. He truly did. His tears vanished as his gaze lingered on Joselyn a moment longer before turning to Stephen. By now, the knight had risen from his crouched position and Cade had to crane his neck back to look the man in the face. He was positively enormous.
“You told me that my parents were not dead,” he said,” yet you also told me that my father died. I do not understand.”
Stephen could see that Cade was an intelligent, thoughtful boy. He liked him already. “It was the truth,” he told him. “Your real father is dead, but since I am the lady’s husband, I am now your father. Both of your parents are living and would like it very much if you would consider living with them for a time. We would like to be your family, Cade, if you will allow. I know it is a lot to ask after all these years, but perhaps you will consider it.”
Cade scratched his head. He had a lot to absorb in his eleven year old brain but, the more he thought on it, the less distress he felt. In fact, he was feeling somewhat pleased and overwhelmed at the moment. He could hardly believe any of it but there was something deep inside of him, afraid yet excited, resistant yet not. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a mother and father. He was shocked that he was actually going to find out.
“You are a baron, my lord?” he asked.
Stephen nodded. “I am,” he replied. “At such time as you return to Ettrick Castle to foster, it will be as the son of Baron Lamberton. Does this displease you?”
Cade shook his head. “Nay, my lord.”
“Will you stay with your mother for a time and come to know her before you return?”
Cade turned to look at Joselyn again, who was smiling faintly at him. He stared at her, nodding after a moment, before turning back to Stephen.
“Who was the knight that retrieved me from Ettrick?” he wanted to know.
Stephen lifted an eyebrow, putting a massive hand on the lad’s shoulder. “That,” he said, “was the Earl of Carlisle and uncle to King Edward.”
Cade’s mouth popped open. As a boy, he was understandably impressed by men with titles and weapons. “You are his vassal?”
“And his friend.”
Cade’s young face suddenly lit up. “You are so rich and powerful, my lord?”
Stephen laughed softly, turning the boy in Joselyn’s direction. “No more than anyone else, lad,” he said. “I have duties to attend to. Will you watch over your mother while I am gone? It would be a good time to come to know her.”
Cade nodded, setting his satchel to the ground and hunting for a place to sit. Joselyn watched the boy, memorizing every line of his face and every lock of his hair. She was still dazed by his appearance, as if she was living a dream, but it was a dream well worth living. She wanted desperately to know her son and watching him interact with Stephen, and the way Stephen had handled the boy, had touched her deeply.
“Are you hungry, Cade?” she asked. “There is much food in the great hall.”
Cade nodded. “Aye, my lady. I could eat.”
She stood up. “Come along, then. I will also take you to the kitchens were my fawn is. Would you like to see him?”
“You have a fawn?”
“I do.”
“But how did you catch him?”
Stephen stood out of the way as she opened the door, leading the young man from the room. “His mother was killed so I took him,” she said, passing by her husband as she spoke to her son. “Do you like sweet cakes?”
The boy nodded eagerly. “I do, my lady.”
“If my husband has left any untouched, I shall be happy to feed them to you.”
Stephen grinned, watching the two of them walk from the keep, wondering how long it was going to be before Cade grew a round belly with all of the sweet cakes Joselyn would undoubtedly feed him. Still, he was relieved and pleased to see that they were at least getting along after their uncertain beginning. He could not have hoped for better.
As he walked out of the keep behind them, he didn’t miss when Joselyn turned around and blew him a kiss. He winked in response. He stood there a moment, watching them walk towards the hall, touched when Joselyn slipped her hand into the crook of Cade’s arm and the boy didn’t back away. He looked a little surprised, but didn’t pull away. When they disappear
ed into the warmly lit great hall, Stephen gazed up into the starry night, silently thanking God for the appearance of Cade Alexander Pembury.
THE SAVAGE CURTAIN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kenneth was a man with a plan.
He had been in the hall with Tate when Lady Pembury had returned with a young man who was about her size and looked a great deal like her. Kenneth and Tate had vacated the table when the boy arrived so that Joselyn could have some private time with him. But they left for another reason as well. They wanted to continue their conversation in private.
The night was mild, a blanket of stars blazing across the dark sky. Kenneth and Tate crossed the bailey towards the gatehouse, noting the enormous form of Stephen on the parapet next to the gatehouse. He was in conference with several soldiers. Tate’s dark eyes lingered on Stephen, silhouetted against the night sky.
“Are you sure that you do not want to tell him?” he asked.
Kenneth shook his head. “He is too emotionally involved in his personal life right now,” he replied. “He is not thinking clearly.”
Tate grunted in disagreement. “His decisions have been flawless since assuming this post, Ken.”
Kenneth came to a halt, crossing his massive arms and casting a distracted eye out over the bailey. It was clear that he was somewhat edgy, with much on his mind. “I am suggesting we release MacKenzie so the man can lead us back to the rebels,” he said in a low voice. “The man is useless in the vault. Something has to be done because as it is, Berwick is a target waiting for an attack. It is my sense that the rebels are building but Stephen does not seem to think this is so.”
Tate watched Kenneth’s body language. He was tense, highly unusual for the man who was consummately cool even in the heat of battle.
“He trusts you,” Tate replied evenly. “He has already told me that he is sending Joselyn back to Forestburn with me come the morrow. I would say that is a strong indication that he is listening to you. So why not tell him what you wish to do with his prisoner?”
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