“Me, m’lady?” he wondered.
“For opening the gates for me,” she added.
“Oh, ‘tweren’t me, m’lady,” he said, looking down at his boots. “I mean, I woulda if the order was given. Nothin’ against you. It was just that...”
Solace’s brow knit in confusion. “You didn’t open the gate?”
“I did,” he said. “But I was forced ta, if ya take me meanin’.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I had closed the gate. Me heart was breakin’, but an order is an order. When all of a sudden, this demon came charging up the stairs. He knocked over the two at the door and charged directly inta me. Said if I didn’t open the gate he was gonna knock me teeth out.” He shrugged. “I opened the gate.”
“Who was he?”
“Don’t know, m’lady. Never saw him before.”
“What did he look like?”
“If ya don’t mind me sayin’, he looked like a bloody demon. Dark as night, except for those eyes. They seemed ta glow!”
Solace nodded slightly, a disbelieving grin twitching her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“I’m glad I could do it, open the gate that is,” Hagen added. “I’d hate ta see ya hurt.”
Solace nodded, calling forth a small smile. To whom do I owe my thanks? she wondered. And for what reason? Was it Graham? She almost laughed out loud. Go against Alissa? That was something Graham would never do.
“M’lady?”
Solace looked up at Hagen.
“Where’s yer escort?”
“Escort?” she echoed. “I don’t have one.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lady. I know it’s not me place, but do you think it’s safe ta be out alone?”
“We’re in Castle Fulton,” Solace replied, growing tired of the argument. “There is no safer place.”
Hagen glanced at the two guards at the door. “We were informed early this evenin’ that there is a murderer in the castle.”
Solace straightened. “What?” she gasped.
“We were told to keep a watch out.”
“The dungeon guard was killed, m’lady,” one of the men at the door added.
Solace’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Why wasn’t I told?” she asked.
“Lord Harper said it wasn’t necessary to worry the ladies,” Hagen explained.
Solace’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Graham Harper?” she gritted out between clenched teeth.
***
Steel gray eyes watched Baron Barclay’s army solemnly through an arrow slit in the wood hoarding scaffold. A group of men were positioned a good distance from the moat, well out of range of the castle’s archers. They continued construction on a trebuchet that when completed would hurl deadly projectiles over the castle wall.
Earlier that day, messengers from Barclay brought terms of unconditional surrender to lady Alissa. She would have been a fool to surrender on such terms. He was sure that Farindale would hunt her down and kill her if she did. Many a lord would lose his life before losing his castle. Logan knew this from experience. He had been in more sieges than he had cared to think about. Still, the pay had been good, and more important, the loyalties and favors he had gained were invaluable.
The Baron had amassed a good-sized army. The line of soldiers and tents stretched as far back as Sullivan’s Hill. Sullivan’s Hill...
His mind drifted back to another army, another time...
Castle Fulton rose up into the sky around him, its gray turrets reaching for the crimson-painted clouds like thick fingers grasping for the safety of the heavens above. On the walkways of the castle wall, soldiers scouted the land for the coming army, their hard, callused fingers nervously tracing the hilts of their sheathed swords. Archers checked their bows, plucking at the strings, and inspected their freshly cut arrows. Around them, at the top of the castle walls, hoarding scaffolds were being built in preparation to drop hot, bubbling oil on any attackers.
He watched as a piercing cry drew the attention of one of the soldiers. The armored man swiveled his head to watch a boy chase after a sheep that had strayed from the flock being herded into the castle. Five other men were having great difficulty keeping the skittish animals in line. Logan looked away from the men to the large carts of food, hay and other supplies that filled the road leading into the castle. Villagers moved with quick desperation into the protection the large stone walls of Castle Fulton offered.
Nearby, another guard directed the incoming carts, his pointing finger darting in one direction, then another, shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard above the din. A small calico cat leapt off of one of these carts and raced through the outer ward, darting between the legs of Logan’s horse. The gray-speckled horse whinnied and reared slightly, but he steadied him with a firm hand. He was a young boy of thirteen. His black hair lifted in a breeze that swirled in over the walls and slowly resettled onto his broad shoulders. He turned his gray eyes from the cat who disappeared into the inner ward to his brother who stood beside his mount.
“Don’t do it, Logan,” Peter begged, placing a trembling hand upon the horse’s neck.
A smile came easily to Logan’s lips; his gray eyes sparkled like the edge of a freshly drawn blade in the setting sun.
“It’s too big a risk,” his brother insisted, his brown eyes filled with worry. “You‘re being foolish.”
“Afraid, Pete?” Logan mocked with a cynical twist to his charming smile.
Peter straightened his shoulders, but refused to give in to the goading. “You know what Father will say if he finds out.”
Logan shrugged, his black hair waving defiantly in the breeze as he cast his gaze toward the open gate and the steady stream of villagers entering. “Then he won’t find out.” He turned back to his brother. “Will he?” Peter turned away from Logan’s hard stare. “Don’t worry, Pete. I just want a look. I’ll be back before the sun sets.” He turned his steed and headed out through the outer ward gates and down the road into town.
“Be careful!” Peter called after him.
But Logan barely heard. His mind was already on the sight that would greet him. An army! In full plate mail! Riding huge war horses! He had never seen an army. How many knights will there be? he wondered. How many foot soldiers? He had accompanied his father to many tournaments, but that was nothing compared to an army! He had to see them, just a peek over Sullivan’s Hill. Then, he would return home...
But he never made it back.
Quickly, Logan pushed the bitter memories out of his mind. Instead, he concentrated on Farindale’s downfall. It wouldn’t be long now. He just needed to find his brother.
And to do that he must find her. Solace. But how was he, a common falconer, going to impress the lady enough to get her to tell him where his brother was? Perhaps the best approach was the direct one. ‘Hello, m’lady. You don’t know me, but I’m looking for my brother. Yes, we’d like to kill your father, but pay that no mind.’
He groaned softly. How could he ask her when she was the daughter of his enemy? Perhaps he could say Peter was a friend. But what if he was locked in the stocks? How would it look for him to be searching for a man who was Farindale’s enemy?
Perhaps he should just keep his mouth closed and his eyes and ears open. But where had that gotten him? He could be here for years.
The thought of soft hands and full lips rose in his mind. He cursed silently. The wretched beauty’s image had plagued him the entire day. Her stubborn stance against her mother was admirable. And when the woman had struck Solace, a peculiar feeling of protectiveness had surged inside him. Logan had even found himself stepping forward.
And now, late at night, instead of trying to formulate a plan to find his brother, he was thinking of her large green eyes and wondering what her full lips tasted like.
Why did it have to be Farindale’s daughter he thought of? Why couldn’t it be some wench who would sate his lusting so he could get on with his mission? Why couldn’t it
be her sister? She seemed willing enough, rubbing herself along the length of him, making it quite apparent she was more than interested in him. But he was not in the least attracted to her. He had seen her kind before, nobility with no honor, no loyalties. He found himself sneering at the thought of Beth. She was, indeed, beautiful. But her blue eyes held no warmth, no compassion, no sincerity. He could take her and enjoy it as much as taking a warthog.
Suddenly, the falcon on his shoulder shifted its weight slightly, and he could feel its claws press into the leather patch he had sewn onto his tunic. Logan glanced at it for a moment. Its brown eyes were wide and alert.
Logan glanced out of the slit in the scaffold, wondering what had caught the bird’s attention. Barclay’s soldiers continued work on their siege machines. Logan took a step to the other side of the hoarding to peer over the crenel of the castle wall. His eyes scanned the courtyard below. Torches hung near the outer gatehouse, throwing patches of light into the deserted ward.
It wasn’t until she stepped into a pool of light that Logan saw her exiting the gatehouse. He scowled. Now what would a lady be doing out this late at night? And why would she be in the gatehouse? What was Solace up to?
***
The next morning, Logan sat alone at the end of a table in the Great Hall, as always. The peasants never sat near him and his bird, leaving him in peace. Which was fine with Logan. Fewer people to have to be cautious of. A serving girl reached around him to refill his mug, then moved on down the table. He dipped a sop into his trencher and chewed on the porridge-soaked piece of bread. The falcon eyed the food with interest and Logan tossed him a small chunk of meat.
The falcon lifted its head, and Logan followed its gaze to see Solace marching up the aisle between the rows of tables that filled the Great Hall. He straightened on the bench as he noticed her tiny fists were clenched, her jaw tight, her eyes narrowed with anger. A grin twitched his lips and his eyes twinkled with amusement as he wondered who was going to be on the receiving end of her wrath. As she marched toward the head table, servants stepped out of the path of the approaching fury and hounds slunk under tables for cover.
She stopped just short of the head table, facing her stepmother, Beth and Graham. The conversation in the room gradually trailed off as everyone waited to hear her flare of temper. Logan leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word. The falcon on his shoulder shifted position, it, too, looking toward the head table.
Solace clenched and unclenched her fists.
Slowly, Graham raised his gaze from the trencher of porridge before him. When his eyes came upon Solace, he smiled beatifically at her.
Solace stepped up on the platform that elevated the head table. “I should have you clapped in irons!” Solace exploded with a barely reined fury.
“Solace!” Alissa hissed.
Solace placed her clenched hands on the table, leaning toward Graham. “What gives you the right to command my guards not to tell me about a murderer?”
“A murderer?” Alissa blanched.
Logan froze, straining to hear the conversation as the entire room erupted in a flurry of astonished whispers.
“M’lady,” Graham said calmly, “I was only trying to protect –”
“Protect my sister. Protect my mother. But I need no protection from you.”
“What is this about a murderer?” Alissa asked, her voice hushed but firm.
“The dungeon guard was found with his head smashed,” Graham replied.
The next few exchanges were washed out as murmurs of disbelief swept through the Great Hall. Logan clenched his fists, desperately trying to hear the conversation. The rumblings ebbed quickly, and he heard Solace ask, “Were there any prisoners missing?”
“No,” Graham answered, leaning back in his chair. “That was the strange thing about it. The poor man wasn’t even robbed.”
Solace straightened away from the table. “Did any of the prisoners see or hear anything?”
Logan’s hand closed around his mug of ale. If they said anything, he would have to make another, more dangerous visit to the dungeon. He lifted the mug to his lips. He drank the ale, but didn’t taste it.
“None of them are talking,” Graham said. “My dear, you needn’t concern yourself with this. I’m handling it.”
“You?” Solace gasped. “You couldn’t handle a murderer if you held a sword to his throat!”
“Solace!” Alissa hissed.
“Solace, I’m here and I plan to help with the siege in any way I can,” Graham said in a slippery voice.
“Then why aren’t you helping guard the castle walls?” she demanded.
“I feel I can be more helpful inside.”
“Solace,” Alissa said, firmly, “that will be all. Graham is quite right. This is a man’s job. You can’t possibly handle the guards in a time of siege. Much less a killer. Good heavens, what would you do if you found out who it was?” As she laughed, Logan’s spine stiffened. He couldn’t stand her condescending tone. “Tell him to stop killing your people... please?”
Graham joined in the laughter.
Solace glared at her stepmother. “No,” she whispered.
“Go, child,” Alissa said, flicking her wrist as if swatting away an annoying fly. “Go practice your embroidery.”
Solace stood motionless for a long moment. Logan felt her anguish. He felt her embarrassment. She should say something, he thought. Defend herself.
But she didn’t utter a word.
Solace turned away and moved out of the Great Hall, holding her head high. Logan watched her go. Impulsively, he rose and strolled after her into the hallway outside the Great Hall. He found her pacing back and forth, her arms straight as pins, her fists clenched into balls. She was murmuring as she moved, shaking her head and twisting her features in a mockery of someone.
Logan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. A grin came to his lips as he watched her stomp back and forth, a bloom of hot red coloring her cheeks. She was enchanting in her anger. His eyes devoured her slender form as he heard her mutter, “How dare he? Order my own men to keep secrets from me? My people are in danger!” He watched her storm five steps and spin like a little whirlwind to march the other way. She was one whirlwind he wouldn’t mind being caught in.
“Practice your embroidery. I’d like to practice my embroidery -- around your neck!” she whispered harshly.
Logan’s grin widened into a full-fledged smile. She was spirited! He had to give her that.
“Thinking he could find a murderer!” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “He can’t even find his own sword in a siege!”
Logan laughed out loud, his pleasure rolling from his throat in a low timbre.
Solace gasped and whirled to face him.
Logan pushed himself from the wall to approach her. Those brilliant green eyes flashed like precious emeralds caught in torchlight as she glared at him, the remnants of her anger seeping into her whiplash greeting. “Do you always spy on women?”
“Spy?” he asked in shock. Spying was something he had never been accused of where women were concerned. There were so many other things to do with them. Especially women with large green eyes and full, kissable lips. “No,” he answered in a low voice.
Solace stepped away from him as a flash of unease crossed her features. “What do you want?”
A dangerous question, Logan thought. His gaze brushed her lips before rising to her eyes. “I came to offer my services,” he said softly.
Solace frowned slightly. “Services?”
He would gladly offer her his services -- any services -- if only she would tell him where Peter was. “Protection.”
“Protection?” Solace echoed in disbelief. “You’re a falconer!”
“If there’s a killer in the castle, it might be dangerous for you to be walking around alone in the courtyards so late at night.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Have you been watching me?”
Logan’s laugh was low.
“No. I was in the courtyard and I saw you.”
“Oh,” she said, fidgeting slightly, averting her gaze at her erroneous assumption. “Well, thank you very much. But I’m safer in Castle Fulton than anywhere else.”
The amusement suddenly left Logan. She was too naive, too trusting. “Don’t be too sure. A murderer can be anyone. Someone you trust, even.” He saw the change in her immediately. Determination clouded her eyes; her chin rose in defiance. He knew instinctively what the little spitfire planned to do. His brows furrowed. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”
Shock rocked her body and she stepped away from him, bowing her head to conceal her thoughts. “Don’t be silly.”
His hand shot out, capturing her chin and lifting it until her eyes met his. Radiant orbs challenged him, dared him to contradict her. They were so vibrant, so full of life and courage. “Solace,” he murmured. He’d hate to have to extinguish that life if she got too close to the truth. He dropped his hand. “Be careful.”
She nodded once and backed away down the hall. Logan watched her go until she was swallowed by the darkness.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER SIX
Solace stared down at the map of Castle Fulton spread out on the table before her.
“All the outer walls are stationed with extra guards,” Captain Montgomery said.
Solace watched the captain of the guard’s finger trace an area on the map. She turned her gaze to him as he ran his hand over his blond mustache and down his beard. His brown eyes gazed intently at the detailed sketch for a moment before shifting to Solace. “I expect that the arrow attacks will start any time now, and it appears the trebuchet might be ready tomorrow, at the earliest. With any luck it will rain and slow the production.”
“You’ve doubled the men at the gatehouse?”
The captain nodded. “And we have men in the storerooms listening for sappers. No one’s going to tunnel into Castle Fulton without us knowing about it.”
“Well done, Captain,” Solace congratulated. “I’m certain Barclay will have a very difficult time finding entrance to Castle Fulton.”
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