So Worthy My Love

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Elise absorbed the information in silence, aware that her husband seldom missed a detail. Before their trip to Lubeck, he had been totally indifferent to the woman . . . but his caution had become apparent shortly after their return. Whenever Frau Hanz had drawn near enough to listen during his discussions with the men, he had deliberately changed the topic or pointedly fell silent until she left. It became a matter of rote, when he called the men to private council in his bedchambers, that either Fitch or Spence would be posted outside the door to guard against possible eavesdropping. If there was naught but one thing Elise had come to realize about her husband in their brief time together, then it was surely the fact that he was not a man to be taken lightly. His confrontation with Gustave had given vivid evidence of his quick cunning and agile wit, and possibly the thing that made him even more dangerous to his enemies was his courage to carry out feats of daring with both aplomb and finesse, usually to the surprise and utter distress of his adversaries. Considering his capabilities, Elise concluded with some pride, perhaps it would be more appropriate to pity the foolish ones who were eager to challenge him.

  “You needn’t worry yourself about Hilliard, my lady,” Sir Kenneth assured her, intruding into her thoughts. “ ‘Twould take better than the likes of him to outwit your husband. Mark my word, my lady.”

  His tender assurances brought a soft smile of gratitude to Elise’s lips. “I shall be glad to, Sir Kenneth. And thank you.”

  “ ‘Tis always my pleasure, my lady.”

  He left her and raced up the stairs two at a time and, a short moment later, returned to take his leave of the keep. A rattle of hooves on the bridge and the clanging clank of the lowering portcullis gave evidence of their departure from the courtyard.

  In the silence of the hall Elise recognized her own easement of tensions. It was rather encouraging to think she would not have to endure Frau Hanz’s glowering frowns and sour disposition any longer. Her spirits soared apace with the release as the day aged, and with renewed enthusiasm, she bundled herself in a warm cloak and tugged on the old hide boots. Sherbourne gave her a brief argument at the gate, but at her sweetly voiced pledge to go no further than what was safe, he yielded and cranked the wheel that lifted the heavy iron grating.

  Beyond the bridge, Elise wended east along the wall where the reflected sun had cleared a narrow path in the snow. A soft southern breeze brought a light, evasive essence of spring to her nostrils, and she pushed back the hood of her cloak to let its gentle warmth caress her face. For a time she stood bathing in the invigorating brightness of the sun and was about to walk on when a spot of color near the base of the wall caught her eye. Small green leaves had sprouted in a crevice, protected yet warmed by the sun. And in the midst of the green . . . Elise knelt to see it better. Aye! ‘Twas a white flower, so tiny as to be almost apologetic for its brazen presence. Tugging off her glove, she reached down and carefully plucked the bloom.

  Once, long years ago, she had gathered wildflowers to braid a crown of many colors to adorn her father’s dark hair. Her mind drifted back in sweet recall and teased her with random shards and scattered glimpses of another time and another place. A haunting recollection came winging back of a narrow beach buttressed with towering cliffs that were themselves punctuated with caves. Eternally lapping waves washed over the beach, and an exhilarating sense of freedom filled her as she remembered racing barefoot along the stretch of sand as a child and her father giving chase. A memory drifted back of misty moors dotted with wooded crests, a large cottage, and tumbled ruins whereon they had sat and leisurely pondered the gamboling clouds high above. He had loved that place, and many were the times he had encouraged her to go back just to wander the moors, to explore the caves as she had done when she was a child, to enjoy the damp breezes on her skin, and to sit upon the stones. It was strange that in the last couple of months or so before his abduction his urgings to go back to their cottage and to that place of sweet, remembered dreams had grown stronger. He had even made her promise to return there upon his death, to take possession of her mother’s portrait that had for years hung in the house, and do all the things they had done when they had been together.

  Elise lifted her head as if she heard a voice speaking to her from the past. It seemed to echo in her mind. Go back. Go back. Go back. Go back.

  A shout rang out from the tower, capturing her attention, and she turned her head as another answered from afar. Shading her eyes against the reflected light of the snow, Elise scanned the road until she caught sight of a pair of mounted riders racing along the path. Her heart quickened with excitement as she recognized the tall, familiar form of Maxim on the back of the stalwart steed. Lifting her skirts, she raced back over the rough ground along the wall. The low rumble of horses’ hooves echoed from the bridge as it was crossed, stilling the trilling song of a nearby bird. The drumming seemed to reverberate within Elise’s chest, filling her with excitement, and as the men rode into the courtyard she quickened her pace and raced across that same wooden expanse.

  Maxim reined Eddy about as he heard the light patter of running feet behind him. Having cautioned Sherbourne to keep a close eye out for Hilliard, he was surprised to see Elise coming across the bridge. His first instinct was to reprimand the knight for allowing her to venture out alone, but as his wife neared, Maxim’s heart fairly leapt within his breast at sight of her dazzling, disarrayed beauty. Rosy-cheeked and breathless, with her hair spilling in glorious color down her back, she was an unforgettable and unreproachable vision. He could think of no harsh rebuke when faced with such beauty.

  Maxim’s feet struck the ground, and he swept off his helmet, letting it fall to earth as she flew into his arms. Catching her close, he swung her about in a circle until she laughed aloud in dizzy glee. Halting, he searched out her lips, heedless of any who watched, and the couple passed a long moment in rapturous stillness ere she came to earth again.

  Sir Kenneth lifted his visor and wiped the back of a gauntleted hand across his mouth as he watched the pair. Feeling a strange blend of envy and amusement, he could not help but think that even with the loss of title and lands, the Marquess was a most fortunate man.

  Maxim released his wife, and her arms slowly slid from his neck. He saw her eyes grow sad as she raised a clenched fist between them and gradually opened it to present a small white blossom. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, he saw the smallest trace of fear beneath the sadness.

  “Spring has come,” she whispered forlornly. “Can the beast be far behind?”

  Maxim removed a leather gauntlet and traced the back of his fingers along her cheek. Resting his hand upon the coolness of it, he caressed the corner of her lips with his thumb. “We were on Hilliard’s ground in Lubeck, my love, and still we won the day. Here”—he nodded toward the narrow road—“he must come on ours.”

  Chapter 25

  SOUTHWESTERLY BREEZES swept the northern climes and brought a sweet, wet promise of spring to Faulder Castle. A pair of days passed, bringing a tumultuous thunderstorm that washed the slopes with a heavy downpouring. Even as night settled hard and stygian black over the land, thunder continued to rumble in the distance. An occasional flash of lightning lit the roiling clouds and the surrounding countryside with its blinding brilliance. It was a night of threatening violence, and Elise, brushing her hair near the hearth, started suddenly in alarm as a bolt of sizzling brightness transformed the dark shadows of the bedchamber into a ghostly white. In the next instant an horrendous crack rent the silence, sending her flying from her chair. Fretting now, she paced the floor in anxious worry, wondering if the road would again prove impassable. Fitch and Spence had managed to cart their trunks and possessions to Hamburg where Nicholas was preparing his ship to sail, but after their return, it seemed the very heavens had opened lofty floodgates to unleash a veritable torrent of water upon the land. The occupants of the castle were once again held prisoner by the elements, for the rains threatened to sweep away any who would foolishly tr
averse the deeply rutted muck of the road. They could only console themselves in the fact that if the rains kept them from getting out, they also prevented Hilliard from getting in.

  The waiting wore heavily upon all, and their nerves stretched taut. Maxim fretted as he watched the days sundered beneath the pounding rains and relentless storms. He eyed the glass and marked the time of each passing hour, seeing naught but a dwindling hope for his wife’s escape.

  Finally the sun broke free of the clouds, and its warmth seemed to spur the men into a frenzy of activity, and though Elise had thought they waited only for the road to dry, the men hardly considered the lane now as they worked to ready the wall and castle for the attack that was expected. The dried wood they had previously stored was now piled in a long, continuous mound at the base of the outer wall. Fresh kindling was stacked beneath the kettles of rendered fat, and supplies of arrows, quarrels, rocks, cannonballs, kegs of black powder, and barrels of small, broken bits of jagged iron were taken to the wall. The recently repaired outer gates were drawn closed and a thick bolt of iron laid across them before the portcullis was lowered into place behind them, on the courtyard side.

  Elise was in the bedchamber when a sudden, sharp explosion rattled the windows. Her heart filled her throat as she raced to the shutters and threw them open. Half-expecting to see Hilliard and his troop of cavaliers charging along the lane, she witnessed instead a small geyser of mud and debris just settling to earth on the top of the ridge. Her searching gaze found Maxim standing on the wall, crouching over the breech of a small cannon. Sighting along its barrel, he gave directions to Justin and the two knights as to where it was to be positioned. Gradually they moved the piece until he was satisfied with its new sighting, then the cannon was reloaded and relit. The weapon barked again, and once more a dirty plume leapt upward, this time in the middle of the narrow lane.

  A cheer went up from the men, and in jovial spirits they applied themselves to another reloading. Maxim bent to sight the gun again, and once more the new position was tested. Thus it went until the road was marked every twenty paces or so with broad, muddy smudges trailing almost to the end of the bridge. When satisfied the cannon was well-laid and ranged, the men crossed to the other wall adjoining the gate to perform the same task with the companion gun.

  Elise considered what the men’s efforts had brought about since the departure of Frau Hanz, and the realization began to settle down in her mind that they were working more zealously to fortify and defend the place than arranging for their departure. Escape no longer seemed their concern.

  Later that evening, as she waited for Maxim to join her in their bedchamber, she heaved a deep sigh of fretting impatience. Though she had only seen Hilliard at the communal hall, she had heard enough from Maxim and the men to know that the agent would not be satisfied until he had seized and slaughtered all of them, even if he had to pluck every last stone from Faulder Castle in his quest. To imagine now that their small force could stand their ground and take on the impact of his assault made her heart tremble within her breast.

  Feeling her anxieties building up, Elise danced in a series of small circles, swirling the skirts of her robe high and wide as she swept about the room. She halted her dance with a little gasp when her eyes lit on her smiling husband. He was leaning against the closed door where he had, for the last moments, enjoyed a rich display of pale, slender thighs.

  Maxim dropped the latch into place, locking the portal behind him, and strode across the room to take his wife in his arms. His parting mouth covered hers in a long, thorough kiss that sapped all the strength from her limbs, then, much to her surprise and disappointment, he caught her hands and stood back. He gazed into her searching, questioning eyes as if he longed to memorize every detail of their beauty. At last, with a heavy sigh, he set her free and turned away, but immediately he faced her again. This time a strange look of reluctant sadness showed through the otherwise determined mien he had assumed.

  “There’s a matter of grave importance I wish to discuss with you, my love.” An odd, husky tone had invaded his voice, hinting of his troubled mind.

  Elise stared at her husband in some puzzlement over his manner, sensing the matter to be of a serious nature. “You have my leave to speak, Maxim. What troubles you so?”

  Chafing over his difficulty to forge ahead into the straight, bare facts of their predicament and thereby strip her of all hope of escape, he looked away and scrubbed a hand over his chin. He was unable to find the right opening that would soften the shock of what he was about to say. Tentatively, he approached the subject. “My love, believe me when I tell you that my intentions were to see you taken to Nicholas’s ship and then to the safety of England . . .

  “See me taken?” Elise grasped hold of his words, and when she spoke, her tone was thick with emotion. “You planned awry if you thought to send me away from you, my lord.” Her voice betrayed her crumpling composure. “How can I leave you when you’re the very reason my heart beats?”

  Maxim saw the rush of tears in her eyes and reached up a hand to cradle her cheek as his thumb wiped away the moisture that trickled down its delicate smoothness. “It fair rends my heart to see your tears, my love. Yet it troubles me even more to tell you that the time for flight has passed. If we go now, Hilliard would catch us on the open road, and we’d have no defense. He must come to us and fight on our terms.”

  “How can so few hold off so many? We know now since Nicholas sent word to us that Hilliard rode out of Lubeck with more than four score hired mercenaries. What are we to do?”

  “Truly, we would have little chance of winning the day if that number enters the courtyard, but if I’ve planned well, ‘twill cost the major part of Hilliard’s forces to reach the wall. Therein lies the crux of the matter. Though my provisions were to see you safely away by now, it cannot be done, for the threat of Hilliard taking you is too great. You must stay here with us behind these walls, and in this matter I must beg your forgiveness.”

  Elise stared at him in wonder, beginning to understand that he was afraid for her and was strangely ashamed that events had not worked to allow for her departure. “Is this the thing that eats at you, my staying?”

  “I thought I had planned well enough to see you gone by now, my love,” Maxim confessed in a hushed whisper. “It pains me much to know that I’ve failed you.”

  “Failed me? What of the rains? The storms? Are you God that you can hold them back? Give heed to the truth of the matter. There was naught else you could do.” She slipped her arms about him and dropped her head against his chest, feeling there the slow, reassuring thud of his heart. “Do you not ken my love for you, Maxim? Though the threat of death looms near, I’d never want to leave you.”

  Maxim reached a hand beneath her chin and lifted her face as his own lowered. “I was a stranger to love until you came into my life,” he breathed above her lips. “Now my whole being is illumined with the joy of love, and I stand in much awe of what you’ve done to me. You are my life, madam.”

  His kiss was gentle and loving, but as it lingered, their emotions turned on a different path. A slow warming began to spread through their minds and bodies, and all thoughts of Hilliard were swept away as the velvet robe slid to the floor.

  The dawning sun rose with dire crimson hues above the ragged shreds of clouds and spread its warmth across the land, forcing the last dregs of the morning mists to retreat to the lowest hollows, where with reluctant lassitude they would eventually evaporate. It was still in the sweet hush of early morn when the alarm rang out from the tower, shattering the tranquillity of the castle and snatching its occupants to their feet in quick response.

  “Hilliard has come!”

  Elise smothered a cry as Maxim leapt from the kitchen table and charged outside. She quickly ascended to her chambers where she threw open a window to watch what transpired. Near the middle of the road where it breeched the ridge, Hilliard came to a halt astride an outsized mount. On either side of him
, his hirelings spread out in double ranks, preparing for an attack. Fitch and Spence scurried to light a fire beneath the kettles of fat as Maxim, with long, leaping strides, crossed the courtyard and climbed to the wall where one of the cannon awaited his attention. Sir Kenneth already manned the second gun, and as Sherbourne gave him aid, Justin came rushing to lend Maxim assistance.

  Hilliard raised a white flag and, with a pair of mounted escorts, rode forward on his charger until he was within hearing distance of those on the wall.

  “Lord Seymour!” he bellowed. “Give up this foolishness! Yu are out-manned and cannot hope to hold this fort against so great a number! I have four score men behind me! Vhat do yu have behind yu? A handful counting the vench? Give yurself up, and I vill allow the others to go free.”

  “Humph” Justin scoffed. “That blackguard would hack us to death the minute the gates are opened, every last one of us.”

  “We bested you in Lubeck!” Maxim taunted. “How many did you have beside you then? ‘Tis my thought you have not come with nearly enough!”

  Hilliard’s ponderous cheeks deepened to a mottled red as anger took hold, and he silently mouthed a renewed promise to crush Maxim Seymour’s face beneath his booted heel. Spurring his mount around, he raced back to his army. Taking a position in the middle of the line, he lifted his arm high with a roar of command. A long moment passed as he wallowed in the power he exercised, then, sweeping his arm downward with a wordless howl, he sent his forces forward. His own mount danced with impatience, but the agent held him with tight restraint as he watched the two lines move forward toward the Faulder redoubt.

  Sir Kenneth waited until the advancing line was almost to the ranging mark, then he dipped the lighted wick down to the fusehole. The spark lit and touched off a loud explosion that sent a large volley of iron pieces hurtling forcefully through the air. They landed in an eruption of earth, mud, and flailing bodies, and the knight shook his fist in triumph as he counted perhaps four or five men that had been taken out of action. Only one of the fallen rose, clutching his side where a jagged shard protruded, and limped back toward the ridge. Sherbourne hastened to help Kenneth reload, as Maxim lowered a flaming wick to the touchhole of his own cannon. He stepped aside just as the gun barked and recoiled on its trunnion. His guncrew of one leapt forward to swab and reload ere the smoke was cleared, and when the heavily laden vapors lifted, Maxim assessed the damage. It seemed as if a broad hand had torn a large gap in the line. A man writhed briefly in a muddied swale, then lay still. The whole attack had stalled, for Hilliard’s warriors now stood in awed confusion. They had been prepared for shafts and spears, but they had hardly been prepared for life-sweeping bombardments of well-aimed cannons filled with scrap iron. The other gun barked its say again, and this time a leaden ball landed, spewing forth a large geyser of mud, rocks, and lifeless humanity. Another report of iron missiles came hard on its heels, shredding another section of advancing soldiers. As the devastation became apparent, cries of alarm rose up. The line wavered, then broke. Turning on their heels, the men raced back toward the ridge, shouting and wailing in fear.