Ellen's spirits remained low as Jane stood back and smiled at the scene Ellen made. The morning had quickly vanished and it was finally time for the reluctant bride to be escorted to Ravencliff's church, near the village. Ellen smoothed the skirts of her forest green wedding gown, her thoughts only on David. If he had survived the battle, would she be back in Scotland? Would they have had a child by now? She refused to close the door on the past year. Thinking about the happiness they shared in the past, kept her from dwelling on the near future. Would anyone find a way to prevent Nicholas’ plan from being completed? Ellen took a deep breath. It was too late for miracles. In an hour, she would be Nicholas’ wife. Ellen had to have faith something would reverse the course of events and everything would work out as it should.
* * * *
Bright sunlight glared on the white crystaline blanket covering the courtyard. Despite the cold, Hugh took his time escorting his daughter to the village church. Many high ranking guests waited for the bride to appear. The Duke of Ravencliff was aware Nicholas had subtly insisted his marriage to Ellen be held in Westminster Abbey, but King John had overruled him by leading his entourage to Ravencliff. Hugh was in no hurry to turn responsibility of Ellen's wellbeing over to Nicholas. If it were not for King John's edict, this marriage would never take place. Hugh wondered how much it had cost Nicholas in gold, to convince the king to draw up the decree.
He glanced at his daughter, but could not see her features. The hood of her fur-lined cloak protected her face from the worst of the cold. He saw her head turning from side to side as if she were looking for something. He patted the small gloved hand tucked in his arm. Courage, my girl, there is still time. There still might be found a way out of this debacle. Have faith, child. When Ellen looked up at him, he saw something new her gray eyes. Was there hope there? Had something happened he knew nothing about? His heart ached for his daughter, that he had been unable to find a solution to their problem. He felt Ellen squeeze his arm and saw the small smile. What foolishness have you planned, daughter?
The hard crust of snow crunched beneath their booted feet. Father and daughter said nothing as they continued on their way to the chapel, their horses plodding through the snow. Kitty followed slowly on her palfrey, with Geoffrey by her side as her escort.
Bishop Renfrew stood at the top step in front of the church door, a guard at his side. Hugh grimaced at the sight of King John standing by the bishop, intending to witness the marriage. The bishop wrapped the edges of his fur-lined cloak about his stout frame. The large hood kept his face in partial shadow, protected against the cold. Father Bernard should have been standing next to him, with Lord Nicholas, but no one had seen the priest since he had made a special trip to his brother's abbey, weeks before.
On the other side of the bishop, Nicholas waited. The fingers of one bare hand thrummed restlessly against his thigh. His tunic and hose were of fine black wool. Gold threads were embroidered in an ornate design along the hem of the garment and the sleeve edges. One side of his cloak was folded back over his shoulder, making him seem impervious to the brittle cold. His dark eyes were harder than obsidian. His mouth remained a tight thin line, the only sign of barely controlled impatience. The narrow, white scar dominating his right cheek, shone starkly in his wind reddened face.
"Do you not feel the cold, my lord?” Renfrew asked politely, while his own teeth chattered.
"Nay, I am not worried about it. After all, my bride will be warming me and my bed soon enough."
The bishop winced at the callous tone of the remark. “'Tis time some people were taught their proper place,” he murmured, and was rewarded with Nicholas’ wide smile, assuring him the bridegroom had missed his meaning. He soon forgot Nicholas’ smugness when four people arrived within sight of the church.
The nobility huddled in tighter groups, clearing a path for the bride and her family. The villagers stood further away, knowing they were forbidden to mix with their betters. Despite the cold, many of them waited out of curiosity. It was no secret how Lady Ellen felt about the Earl of Fair Haven. They had heard of her marriage to the Scotsman, and a few of those knew David had been murdered shortly after their marriage. Was it only a year past when Lady Ellen had been so happy? Whispered comments passed back and forth as they observed Lady Ellen's blank features. There was no radiance in her countenance as expected of a bride. Hoods remained low over their heads as they waited impatiently for the words to be said, so they could flee the cold and enter the shelter of the church.
Ellen slowly climbed the steps and curtsied before the king and his bishop. She stood and glanced at the man, who barely smiled. Lady Margaret stood a short distance from the king's side, her eyes bright with moisture. The tears were not a product of the cold wind, nor were they tears of joy for the wedding about to take place.
Nicholas barely contained his fury when he saw Ellen had refused to wear the gown he had had sent to her. “You think to defy me, Lady?” Nicholas clenched and unclenched his fists as he spoke only loudly enough for those on the steps to hear. He fought for control of a temper that threatened to become unleashed before witnesses. “Your father spoiled you and your late husband failed to keep you in your place. It will all change, beginning tonight.” He continued to keep his voice low and threatening, but failed to intimidate his bride. His anger escalated when Ellen boldly stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Is there anyone who has reason this marriage should not take place?” Bishop Renfrew glanced about the large gathering. The gathering was a sham and no one would be allowed to speak up, not that anyone would. Who would dare defy the king's order?
"I do!” A tall hooded figure moved closer to Ellen. His hood was pulled forward, keeping his identity in shadow. Two men, their faces similarly hidden, followed him. The speaker's sure stride parted the crowd, clearing a path to the steps before them. “The lady has a husband. Would you make an adulteress of her?"
One of the stranger's companions moved closer to Ellen, while the other made his way to Lady Margaret and stood behind her. Castle guards moved closer, hands on swords, but perceived no real danger.
"She is free to marry,” Nicholas snapped. “The lady's husband is dead this past year, killed in battle, shortly after their marriage."
"Less than a year,” Ellen amended, earning a black look from the earl.
Nicholas continued. “The soldier who followed them that day into battle in the wood, managed to escape and came to me at Fair Haven, seeking help. It was too late. I could not understand why he came to me, rather than go to the heathen Scot and tell him of his loss. There were no bodies, just blood and torn cloth. Unfortunately, the soldier eventually died of his wounds and cannot be questioned."
"How convenient for you,” Ellen muttered.
"I call you liar and a traitor.” The stranger threw back his hood and removed the eye patch. “Did you think we would not escape the slavers you sold us to?"
Nicholas was taken aback by the announcement. David was supposed to be dead.
Incompetent fools. They said they dropped the bodies into a lake, never to be found, that they had been weighed down with heavy stones. If you want something done right, you must do it yourself.
Ellen's knees buckled and the hooded man by her side, grabbed her arm to steady her. “David,” she whispered, and whispered a quick prayer of thanks he was safe.
"An imposter! A demon come to confuse us!” Nicholas shouted, attempting to frighten everyone into confusion.
"Here? On hallowed ground? On this of all days?” David scoffed. “The only demon present is you, Nicholas."
"I bear witness to his words.” The figure beside Ellen bared his head.
"Gordon!” Ellen fought the dizziness threatening to overcome her. She stumbled into her brother's arms, shedding tears of joy, while those assembled to witness a wedding rejoiced in the reunion. The villagers cheered, and hugged each other in relief; Ravencliff's heir had returned home safely.
Gordon glanced u
p at the rasping sound of steel being stealthily drawn from its sheath. “'Ware, David” he shouted in warning, as he pushed Ellen against the church's recessed entrance.
His companion pushed Margaret back, as well, then stood before her in a protective stance. When she tried to get around him, he grabbed her arm and grumbled at her. “You have not changed a bit in all these years, woman."
Margaret looked up into the thin bearded face. “Will?” she half whispered, afraid to believe her eyes. “It is you!” Margaret flung her arms about his neck and held on tightly.
Will bent slightly to ease the tension of his wife's hold on him. “Easy, my girl,” he laughed, “or you will succeed in doing what the Saracens failed to do."
Gordon growled when Ellen refused to remain where she was, and pushed her way past him and his friend, to a spot where she could see all that went on. She glanced at the king, who appeared amused. Wedding guests scattered and watched the duel from a safe distance.
David spun around, barely missing Nicholas’ deadly thrust. He loosened his cloak and tossed it aside, then drew out his own blade. David brought his sword up in time to deflect Nicholas’ next move. He continued to step back, forced to fight defensively, and David had all he could do to prevent Nicholas from drawing blood.
Nicholas forced David back, until David's heel met with the bottom step and he fell, dropping his weapon. His sword clattered against the steps, out of his reach. David lay very still, breathing heavily, and stared up at Nicholas. Months of captivity made him careless.
The thrill of victory glowed in Nicholas’ eyes. “I should have killed you myself, months ago,” he hissed. “You have stood in my way once too often.” Nicholas gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and raised the weapon high, ready to plunge it into David's body.
At the last moment, David rolled sidewise, reached his own sword and regained his feet. “Then or now would make no difference. You will gain nothing by my death, but the gallows you deserve.” The clash of steel sang out in the cold afternoon air. A surge of energy flowed through David, and he moved steadily forward, meeting Nicholas’ blade, blow for blow. David drove his enemy back.
Nicholas parried David's thrust, but was slow to recover his stance. He left himself open for a strike, which left a deep gash in his upper arm. His numbed fingers released the useless weapon."
David's sword moved to Nicholas’ throat. The temptation to finish off this man who had cost him so much, was almost too strong, but David backed away. “I bring charges against you, and place you under arrest for the attempted murder of Gordon of Ravenscliff, as well as the failed attempt on my life."
Nicholas sneered with contempt. “'Tis no matter to incite someone to a plan, to which they have all ready committed themselves."
"Save your words,” King John added. “Bind his wound and hold him secure until Bishop Renfrew is ready to return to London.” The guards, who had moved to stand at either side of Nicholas, grabbed his arms and unceremoniously pulled him away from the gathering.
"Your stepmother has an interesting story to tell. I'm sure King John will find it enlightening,” David finished with disgust.
"This is not the end of it, Scotsman. I will finish you. I will finish you all. Do you hear me?” Nicholas shouted as he was dragged away. “One way or the other, I will have what I want."
Ellen took a tentative step forward, then ran down the church steps and threw herself into David's arms. “You are alive. I knew in my heart you were not dead, but I could not prove it. Had I been able, not a whit of this ‘wedding’ would have taken place."
David laughed and twirled her about, then set her away from him, a question in his eyes. He touched a callused finger to her soft skin. “On this day, a year ago, we took vows to bind us forever. I would renew those vows, if my Sprite is willing.” His eyes searched hers for an answer, and found the love he knew would always be there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Thinking back on the events of the last month, Bishop Renfrew realized many of Nicholas’ friends had left the festivities when they were told Nicholas was being taken to London the day after his wedding was stopped. The bishop did not relish the idea of taking a prisoner to the Tower, and was grateful when King John changed his mind and sent soldiers on ahead with the prisoner. Renfrew rejoiced in the turnabout of the day's events. King John had been reluctantly gracious in allowing the Duke of Ravencliff and his family to abide by David's and Ellen's wishes to renew their vows.
Renfrew attributed that to Ellen's quick wit and quicker mind. She was, indeed, a fitting bride for her Scots husband. Even the king could not sanction a marriage when the first existed still. Renfrew smiled. Visiting Ravencliff was a good idea while the King stewed over Ellen's parting words. When asked again about gifting the king with the colt, Ellen sagely replied, ‘How can I give to the king that which rightfully belongs to another?’ John's features had turned to a scowl as Ellen dropped into a deep curtsy, then hurried away when dismissed. Renfrew let his thoughts slip away and turned his attention to the festivities.
Ravencliff's great hall rumbled with laughter and music, for the first time in over a year. Servants partook of the feast, along with soldiers and nobility. Renfrew watched the goings on, amazed at the feelings of well-being, but one thought kept invading his pleasure. What became of the priest? Nicholas had said Bernard made it clear he intended to be back at Windsor in time for the wedding. Had he arrived, someone would have sent him on to Ravencliff. No one has heard from the man since he left Ravencliff. Perhaps his brother was more ill than at first believed, and Bernard chose to stay with him. Renfrew shook his head. Bernard thinks only of what is good for Bernard. He will be sorely disappointed to learn of this turn of events.
"Your Grace is enjoying the festivities?” Hugh asked as he signaled for a page to refill the bishop's cup.
"Most assuredly,” he replied. “Never have I seen a happier bride. And you tell me young David was her choice for husband?” Renfrew was surprised when told Hugh had enough faith in his daughter's judgment, to allow her to make her own marital choice.
"She is an exceptional young woman. You must be quite proud of her.” King John joined in the conversation. “I must admit, she has a quick wit and even quicker mind. Whatever became of the mare and colt that did not exist?” There was laughter in the king's eyes at having been bested by a young woman unused to the ways of the court.
"Very much, your majesty. I am also proud of my younger daughter for the way she supported her sister through a trying time.” Hugh glanced about the hall. “It seems Kitty has disappeared. If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I should find my younger daughter and have her join us.” The duke stood, nodded to the bishop, then left the head table.
* * * *
Laughter bubbled from the center table like a fine wine. “Had the pirates succeeded in getting around the tip of Portugal, we could have very well been on our way to the holy lands, as slaves. Storms kept the ships from getting very far, and Will had a plan worked out for our escape.” David looked past Ellen at her brother, “Or was it that girl you were so enamored of, and who kept you occupied when we had to leave?” David wrapped an arm about Ellen's shoulders and drew her closer for a kiss, as he continued to bait his best friend.
Gordon swallowed, and pointed a dripping chicken leg at David, as if in warning. “I will have you know, I intend to go back and find her, as soon as we have settled things here.” He took a bite from the chicken then dropped it on the pewter plate before him, and wiped his greasy hands on the tablecloth. “I managed to save something for you, Ellen, and I will retrieve it shortly.” He stood and gave the couple a warning glance. “Do not disappear, as Kitty has done. She must have gone off with Geoffrey.” Gordon left the table and hurried above stairs, anxious to retrieve something he had slipped into his chamber.
* * * *
Will gazed at his wife, taking his time to notice all the little changes in her features. “These many years away, we
re made bearable only by my sweet memories of you. I promise you this, Margaret. Never again will we be separated such as the crusades have done to us.” He gingerly touched the dark hair, reveling in its softness, still finding it hard to believe they were reunited.
"It was so strange, Will. One day Ellen asked me a question, and I saw your face, as clearly as I see it now. And I saw this scar, wondered how you came by it.” Margaret traced the jagged, thin white line down the side of her husband's face, from graying temple to hardened jaw. He was thin, but time could change that. More important, he was alive and she intended to make up all the time they had lost.
Will reached for his wife's hands and laced his fingers with her. Her hand felt soft and soothing lying against his own callused palm. He lovingly rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. “Soon, we will go home."
"Yes, soon,” she agreed. “As soon as all is settled here."
"That was ill done of you, Uncle, to be gone so long,” Ellen interjected. “Do you know the grief you put Aunt Margaret through?” Her eyes held a hint of laughter as she spoke seriously to her uncle.
"I am sorry for that, niece, but you would have to speak to the pirates about it. Had they not interfered I might have been home years sooner."
"Had they Ellen to contend with they would not have dared to abduct you,” David added, unable to remain serious. “When we arrived in Scotland, my father told me about this wedding. Tell me, my beautiful bride, how did you manage to stand up to the king? What made you do it?"
To Every Love, There is a Season Page 23