The Silken Cord

by Leigh Bale

  What if he were killed? She might never see him again. Her heart clenched, but there was no time to say farewell. As her feet hurried up the stairs, knots of anxiety tightened in her stomach.

  Jenkin pulled Ariana and Markus back into the shadows at the top of the stairs. They huddled there for several moments, listening, waiting. Her body went cold and she wriggled her toes to get the blood flowing again.

  She heard a loud cry and then sounds of running feet. The fallen guard had been discovered.

  Jenkin’s eyes narrowed on Markus, his expression harsh. Markus looked away and Ariana prayed the boy remained calm and silent. She feared Jenkin would kill the boy if Markus gave him cause.

  Shouts and a loud clatter filled the air as guards pounded up the stairs and ran outside.

  “Search the hall and stables,” one of them ordered. “Alert Lord Carlinham of the intrusion.”

  Wulfgar had no one to defend his back. What if he couldn’t reach the sally port and their men didn’t arrive in time?

  “I think they’re gone,” Jenkin said.

  Moving out of the shadows, he paused before a solid door on the landing. Taking the key from a peg on the wall, he inserted it in the lock and swung the door wide.

  Despite Jenkin’s efforts to hold her back, Ariana crowded past, her gaze taking in the pleasant surroundings, the warm tapestries of red and green, the comfortable pallet to sleep upon, and the table laden with meat, bread, and a basket of red apples. A cheery fire burned in a brazier, warming the room. Candles flickered in holders on the table. She cried out with joy when she saw Dafydd sitting up on a thick sleeping pallet. Rubbing his eyes, he peered at them, blinking.

  “Ariana!” Throwing back the covers, he raced into her open arms.

  “Dafydd! Oh, Dafydd!” she held him tight as tears filled her eyes.

  She relished his warmth and the familiar smell of him. Elation radiated throughout her body. How grateful she was to find him.

  She had Wulfgar to thank. But they weren’t safe, yet.

  After a few moments, she drew back and glanced at Jenkin, who had pushed the door so it stood slightly ajar. He had pressed Markus into a chair by the bed and now watched her with a satisfied gaze. In his eyes, she saw such devotion she could hardly fathom his loyalty.

  How could she have ever doubted him?

  “Do you think we should remain here?” she asked Jenkin.

  “For the time being. We’re not yet discovered. If need be, I’ll take you to the dungeon and we’ll escape through the secret passage.”

  Ariana didn’t like that option. She’d had trouble holding her breath and didn’t want to endanger Dafydd’s life.

  “Ariana, why are you here?” Dafydd asked.

  “To take you home, silly.” Her voice trembled and she ruffled his hair.

  “But it’s dangerous. Lord Edwin wants you, not me. If he finds you here….” His brows lowered in a troubled frown.

  “We’ll just have to make certain he doesn’t find me, then. I’m relieved he’s treated you so well.”

  She looked about the comfortable chamber.

  Dafydd pursed his lips with disgust. “My comfort wasn’t Lord Edwin’s doing. He wanted to give me very little food. John, my guard, felt sorry for me.”

  “Then I’m grateful to John. Hurry and get dressed. We must be ready to leave the moment we have the chance.” She pulled his nightshirt over his head and replaced it with a tunic. In a matter of moments, the boy was clothed and she pressed the hilt of one of her daggers into his hand. “If anyone tries to harm you, use this. Remember, there’re times when a king must be fierce.”

  Dafydd’s eyes rounded but he nodded obediently. Even a boy of seven years could defend himself, if he used his wits. Dafydd had always been a thoughtful, intelligent boy. But now, he must fight for his life.

  Oh, please let him remember the lessons father taught him.

  Gripping Dafydd’s hand firmly in her own, Ariana pulled him toward the door. Jenkin moved back, his gaze centered on her. He had little time to react when Ariana screamed a warning.

  “Jenkin, look out.”

  A guard rushed the door, throwing it open and stabbing Jenkin’s back with a slim knife.

  “John, nay,” Dafydd shouted, but too late.

  Jenkin whirled about and slashed the man’s middle with his sword. John screamed and fell back onto the landing.

  Jenkin pushed the door closed, but he couldn’t lock it. Markus stumbled to his feet.

  “Don’t move,” Jenkin growled and the boy froze.

  “You killed him,” Dafydd cried, sniffling. “He was good to me and you killed him.”

  “I’m…sorry. I didn’t know.” Jenkin staggered, reaching out a hand to brace against the wall.

  “Jenkin, are you all right?” Ariana pushed Dafydd behind her and clutched her dagger in her fist. Her heart pounded as she waited to see if other guards tried to storm the room.

  “He struck my shoulder, nothing more.” Nodding his head, Jenkin eyed the door. No one came. All was quiet, except for an occasional shout in the bailey below and the subtle sound of steel clashing against steel.

  The battle had begun.

  Their men must have gained entry to the castle. The desire to go and help Wulfgar was strong, but Ariana knew she couldn’t leave Dafydd.

  “Ariana.” Jenkin stumbled again, the color draining from his face. His right hand gripped his sword, his left hand raised to her in supplication.

  He coughed and bloody spittle stained the corner of his mouth. His legs buckled and he slumped on the floor.

  “Jenkin.” She ran to him.

  This was no shoulder wound. He was wounded worse than she’d thought. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the thick carpet. Markus shifted on the chair, his face white with horror. Ariana knelt beside Jenkin.

  “Jenkin, let me check the damage.” Tears blinded her and she brushed them away.

  He grasped her hand, pulling it to his chest, just over his heart. “Nay, princess. Let me look at you one last time.”

  A lump formed in her throat. She could hardly breathe. “Jenkin, please.”

  “I’ve loved you all my life.”

  How could he say such a thing now, after she’d spurned him? She felt unworthy of his devotion.

  Wretched.

  Dafydd knelt beside Jenkin and cupped his hands around the fallen man’s arm. “Jenkin? Are you gonna be all right?”

  Ariana gave a shaky laugh. “Of course he is.”

  But she knew better. He was dying. She could hear it in the way his breath rattled through his lungs.

  Jenkin. Her loyal protector.

  Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers and showed a faint smile. Then he relaxed his hold and exhaled slowly. His eyes stared at her, glazed in death.

  Ariana felt the color drain from her face. Jenkin was dead. It had happened so fast, she could hardly believe it.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she closed her throat around a sob. She’d never get the chance to thank him. Never be able to make amends for breaking his heart.

  Dear Jenkin. She had wronged him, but she couldn’t promise him her heart when it belonged to another.

  Ariana reached to close his eyelids and then lowered her cheek to press against his, shuddering as sobs tore from her throat. “Rest well, my dear friend.”

  Dafydd sat beside Jenkin, his young face etched with grief as tears poured down his cheeks. He threw himself into her arms, sobbing. She smoothed his hair and held his trembling body, taking comfort that he was all right.

  “It’s my fault he died. If he hadn’t come to save me, he’d still be alive,” the boy cried in a mournful whisper.

  Markus coughed and Ariana looked up, seeing his eyes crinkled with compassion. She hadn’t thought Edwin’s son would be tender-hearted. Yet, it seemed to be true.

  “Hush, now. It’s not your fault.” Ariana soothed Dafydd. “He died defending us. Never forget the sacrifice others h
ave made to keep you safe.”

  With their father and brothers gone, Ariana felt it her duty to teach Dafydd to be a king. And she was determined to teach him mercy as well as duty.

  “Now, you must be strong,” she urged. “A good king must be resolute, but also have compassion for his people. You’ve learned a valuable lesson today. Never take your people for granted.”

  Nodding his head, Dafydd let go of her and stood, his gaze trained on Jenkin’s ashen face. Dafydd blinked his eyes and hardened his small jaw, but didn’t look at all convinced as he sniffed noisily.

  Markus. How could she protect Dafydd and keep Markus from running away?

  She couldn’t. Not if he was determined to escape.

  The sounds of battle increased. Screams and shouts filled the air, accompanied by loud thuds and clash of arms.

  It wasn’t safe to remain here. More guards could discover them at any moment.

  Ariana was alone, the only protection her brother had. She hated to leave Jenkin, but she must get Dafydd outside the castle.

  The secret passageway!

  “Come on.” She pulled Dafydd to his feet.

  Markus stood against the wall and she wondered what to do about him. Never could she harm him. But she might need some bargaining power before they escaped the castle.

  “You’ll come with us,” she told Markus.

  He clenched his jaw and nodded. “All right. I don’t a…agree with how my father has t…treated your people.”

  His tone was laced with disdain and it was obvious the boy bore his father no affection. He might yet try to escape. So be it. Her first priority must be to Dafydd.

  Grasping her dagger, she led the way and hurried down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom when she heard guards searching below in the dungeon.

  “Er, do you think they was trying to free the prisoner?”

  “Aye, but Fulcher must have surprised ‘em. The prisoner is still locked in his cell.”

  Poor Vachel. They couldn’t reach the secret passageway.

  Turning in the opposite direction, Ariana led the two boys out into the bailey. It was dark and the chill air embraced them. Confusion filled the yard as people ran about in the darkness. Men were screaming, slashing at one another with swords, axes, and any other weapon they could find.

  Evan! He stood with many other Welshmen, fighting to gain entry into the winch room so they could raise the portcullis.

  Other Welshmen were rounding up Edwin’s mercenaries at sword point. As evidenced by their bare feet, lack of clothing, and sparse weapons, most of them had been taken by surprise.

  Where was Wulfgar?

  Torches flickered along the ramparts. It would be morning soon. The sky had lightened, a flush of orange to chase away the dark.

  Inhaling the chill air, Ariana saw puffs of breath as she exhaled. She skimmed the wall of the gatehouse, holding tight to Dafydd’s hand. Markus followed behind, but she expected him to bolt at any moment.

  Where should they go?

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sally port! Wulfgar had told Ariana it sat on the east side of the gatehouse. An outcropping of rock on the outside of the castle wall shielded it from casual view. Perhaps she could find it in all the confusion of fighting men.

  She peered at the buildings, trying to get her bearings. She stood with Markus and Dafydd on the west side of the gatehouse. Men fought in the bailey, blocking their way. If she could skirt around to the other side of the castle, they might be safe.

  Pulling Dafydd with her, she raced along the inner wall, aware of someone high upon the ramparts shouting at them. Booming voices could be heard and Ariana knew they’d been seen.

  Something whizzed past her face and thunked into the ground at her feet. An arrow!

  On she ran, dodging slashing swords and axes as men battled against each other. Dark shapes unfolded at the top of the wall. Dogs barked, snapping at her heels.

  She jumped over a dead man lying sprawled across their path. The scent of death filled the air.

  One of Edwin’s mercenaries whirled on her so fast she almost charged into his burly chest. Inhaling a sharp breath, she sucked in her stomach to evade the slicing arc of his sword. The sharp point clipped her left hand, drawing blood. She bit back a cry at the stinging pain.

  The giant man loomed over her, his angular face cast in shadow.

  Merciless.

  “Look out,” she shouted, trying to push Dafydd back. Her ankle twisted beneath her and she groaned.

  Sensing easy prey, the giant’s eyes filled with venom, his mouth curved into a cruel grin.

  Oh, where was Wulfgar when she needed him?

  “Stay back,” she warned the giant as she brandished her dagger. She stabbed the air in a threatening gesture, but the man laughed at her puny effort, his great chest shaking with mirth.

  “Oww,” he yelped when Dafydd snuck up on his side and drew back his foot to kick him in the shin with his pointed shoes.

  “You leave my sister alone.” The boy kicked him again hard.

  The giant’s hollow eyes widened then gleamed deadly. Ariana saw the flash of his teeth as his lips curled in a sneer. “You’ll pay for that, little whelp.”

  The mercenary never saw the club of wood being aimed at his head. Climbing on the woodpile, Markus smacked the man just above his left ear with a stick of firewood. The giant tilted to the side and grunted.

  Markus had helped them.

  Ariana had no time to consider why. The hulking brute turned on Markus, drawing back his arm to thrust with his sword. Markus’s eyes widened but he sprang off the woodpile and dodged the blow. The giant roared with rage.

  Now was her chance!

  Ariana stabbed toward the man’s chest, but he shifted his weight and she clipped his shoulder instead. Blood spattered across her tunic and his angry bellow filled her ears.

  Smack!

  With a powerful swipe of his hand, he knocked her back and she rolled across the ground, her ears ringing. She blinked her eyes, trying to focus. The giant drew back his sword and faced Markus.

  A blaze of panic tore up her throat. He would kill the boy.

  The mercenary paused, jutting his chin, his brow furrowed. “You! What are you about, boy? Where’s your father?”

  Thank goodness he recognized Markus.

  “Leave him alone.” Dafydd battered the man with his small fists. The boy wasn’t strong enough to do any damage. Instead, Dafydd’s weight buckled the giant’s legs and the man fell to his knees.

  Thud!

  Lashing out with his fist, the warrior knocked Dafydd back in the dirt. Dafydd landed on his hands and knees and shook his head, his eyes dazed.

  Ariana regained her feet and blocked Dafydd with her own body, trying to protect him, her fingers numb as they clutched her dagger. Tendrils of hair fell into her eyes, damp with sweat, blinding her. How could she fight this man?

  A deafening roar filled her ears. The mercenary squawked as he was flipped over and landed with a thud.

  Wulfgar!

  The mercenary’s mouth dropped open. No longer did he face a woman and children. Now he faced a full-grown, battle-hardened warrior. And Wulfgar was every bit as large as the giant.

  “Run,” Wulfgar ordered, pointing toward a doorway a short distance away.

  The mercenary’s gaze centered on Wulfgar as he came to his feet cautiously, his sword gripped in his fist. Facing each other, the two men braced themselves for battle. With a loud cry, the mercenary aimed a lashing blow at Wulfgar’s middle. Stepping to the side, Wulfgar deflected the blow and the clash of steel rang in Ariana’s ears.

  “Come on.” Pulling Dafydd with her, she ran toward the castle wall. Markus followed. Fighting raged all around. He obviously preferred her to the danger of battle.

  They ducked inside and Ariana slammed the wooden door, engulfing them in gloomy shadows. There was no bolt to lock the door. The musty scent of grain met her nose. In the shadows, she saw the bodies of
two guards lying sprawled across bags of grain stacked to the side. Mice skittered past her feet and she gasped.

  The fighting had obviously made it to this room. Perhaps the guards had chased Wulfgar here when he came to open the sally port.

  At the other end of the room, another smaller door stood wide open. Cold night air struck her face and moonlight sprayed across the floor, glinting off dust motes floating in the air.

  “The sally port. We’ve found it.”

  Running to the door, she braced her hands against the jam and peered over the edge. The door was situated halfway up the outer wall of the gatehouse. A ladder had been lowered on the outside, resting against the wall. No doubt it had admitted Wulfgar’s men into the keep. High above, clouds scudded across the sky. Soon, it would be morning.

  “The darkness will cover our escape.”

  Dafydd smiled as he crouched in front of the door, still holding her dagger in his hand. He was visibly trembling.

  Markus shook his head and bolted for the door. It wasn’t safe for him in the bailey.

  “Wait,” she shouted.

  Too late! He threw open the door…and ran into a man’s chest.

  The dark shape of the man moved forward, tall and threatening, clearing the way. Markus screamed and staggered back.

  With a high pitched squeal, Dafydd tried to scurry over to Ariana. The man grabbed Dafydd by the scruff of the neck and jerked him back, shaking him hard. Dafydd dropped his dagger and shrieked and clawed, but the man held tight.

  “Oh,” Ariana cried, recognizing the man.

  Edwin of Carlinham.

  How had he found them? Had he seen them come in here?

  Her blood chilled. So close. A few more moments and she and Dafydd would have slid down the ladder and run into the forest to hide until Evan could come for them. Just a few more moments and they would have been free.

  Edwin kicked Dafydd’s dagger aside and closed the door behind him. He brushed back his cloak to reveal a sword and long, thin knife sheathed at his side. He pulled the blade free. A nasty smile spread across his hawkish face. Wrapping his arm around Dafydd’s throat, he twisted the boy’s arm behind his back and Dafydd grimaced with pain.