“I love my mum and da in Sheffield, but I love my new mum and da here in Corvus Croft, as well. I would not choose to go back,” the miller’s foster son told her.
Trying to mask her surprise and newly found apprehension, Serine passed out the crusty bread and rich cheese that she had brought and looked longingly over the sea. She had thought it would be so easy. She would no more than suggest that they take a boat and run away and they would all but race to the waiting vessel. It was not to be. These children had known a taste of freedom and found serfdom bitter on their tongues. The mere fact that they had spoken their feelings was enough to show Serine that they no longer thought as serfs, giving humble obeisance to their overlord. Like the other people of Corvus Croft they spoke their minds.
Somehow Serine knew she must get as many as possible down the cliff and onto the boat waiting in the cove below. If some of the older children did not want to go along, Serine would take them to some point down the coast and let them return to Corvus Croft.
She was certain she could get them onto the boat by insisting that they gather water lichen. Hopefully, it would not occur to them to suspect that the boat was ready to set sail as soon as all were aboard.
She was about to suggest they venture down the cliff when Hendrick came running toward her. “There is a ship in the cove below, Mother,” he gasped, “and men with weapons.”
Serine stood and shielded her eyes from the sun. She wished she dared place her hand firmly over Hendrick’s mouth. It was unlike Hendrick to blurt out information that would alarm his companions and thwart Serine’s plans. She was about to chastise him when she realized all was not as she had expected. From her vantage point she could see not only the men, but several little boats bobbing some distance from the coast.
She could only hope that Ellis and Short Will would run for cover. Serine shooed the smallest children away from the edge so they would not be seen and started back toward the cliff, but Ethyl’s firm hand stopped her.
“Send the swiftest of the boys running to warn the village. Take the little ones and follow as quickly as you can. I will hold the marauders below as long as I have arrows.”
Hendrick lost no time in following Ethyl’s orders, but Tim and some of the older boys began rolling rocks and clods down the path and dropping them over the cliffs. They would not be dissuaded, and Serine realized that her plans had come to naught. The boys were willing to fight for their new families and their freedom.
“Serine. This is not the time to argue. Take the babes and return to Corvus Croft else you’ll see these children taken again.” Ethyl nocked her arrow and carefully let it fly.
She did not look back to see if Serine heeded her advice. While the boys created a diversion, she shot an arrow and ran quickly to another spot in the hope that the men would be tricked into thinking there was more than one archer on the cliffs. It was the same ruse that had fooled the Celts. There was no reason it should not fool the Celts’ enemies.
Before a dozen arrows had flown Ethyl saw the little skiff that was to have been their escape move quickly into the water. Ellis and Short Will had escaped. Now it was up to Ethyl and her aspiring army to hold the enemy at the bottom of the cliff until help could arrive.
Her arrows were all but spent, and she reserved the precious few she had remaining to pick off the men who made their way to the top of the cliff. Soon there would be no choice but to run, for she knew neither herself nor the brave lads who stayed with her could fight them hand to hand.
She made her way back toward the trees, motioning to the youths to follow. It was then she felt the earth tremble. With shouts of anger, challenge and the pure joy of a fight the Celts came thundering in on their ponies.
They rode without saddles and clung to the shaggy little horses as though a part of them. Ethyl could not help but admire their ability. As she loosed one last arrow and made to slide out of sight among the trees, Rory called to her.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he pulled his horse to a stop beside her.
“Of course.” She bristled. “Those men are soldiers, not archers. I doubt they could hit a tree with a spear. And our lads did an admirable job of holding them down the face of the cliff where they could do me no harm.”
Rory laughed. “I will give them the chance to fight.” He kicked his horse into action but his voice floated back, and the words “Drojan is coming” brought both joy and dread to Ethyl’s heart.
* * *
The sounds of fighting were far behind her when Ethyl saw a cart rumbling through the meadow. Her heart lurched as she recognized Drojan leading the horses.
They stopped with some twenty feet between them, moving together again but one step at a time. They had not seen each other since they had bade farewell after spending a night of amazing lovemaking.
“I feared for you, Ethyl,” Drojan said, breaking the silence.
“Did your Runes not tell you where I’d be, Seer?” Ethyl’s words were softened by the quaver in her voice.
“I saw men and boats near the water. I saw you and Serine and many children. I thought you meant to escape, and could not bring myself to believe you would leave me.”
She moved closer...so slowly. “I am here,” she reminded him.
“As is a band of invaders,” he countered.
“I held them until the men of your village could come. No man could have done more.” Again the challenge.
“Had they not come you would have been on your way to Sheffield with your lady.” It was an accusation, but the sadness in his voice touched her heart.
She took the last steps, though he did not move, even when she stood before him.
“I would not leave you, Drojan. And if you are but half the seer you claim to be you must see that.”
“I can see nothing when my eyes are blinded with your brilliance.”
Ethyl slipped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder. There was a smile on her lips. At least the man was a realist. Even in the first throes of love he had not said she was beautiful, which she was not, and most like had never been. He had said she was brilliant, and that she would not deny, for her newly found love for Drojan made her feel as though she glowed from within.
She felt his lips press against her forehead. A gentle, wonderful kiss that demanded nothing more than love returned in kind.
“Come,” he said, “show me where they fight. By the time we reach them there will be wounded who will need to be taken back to the village.”
Ethyl squared her shoulders. What did he think she had been doing while the others were sounding the alarm? How did he think the men had been kept from reaching the village?
“There are already wounded men,” she said somewhat sourly, “albeit they are the enemy.”
“Your enemy, or mine?” Drojan asked.
“Ours,” came the reply.
Chapter Ten
Even as he fought, Rory could not ignore the suspicion that Serine and the children had been on the cliffs above the sea for reasons far removed from gathering herbs and lichen. His heart sank as he realized that even as she proclaimed her love for him through the actions of her lovely body, in her heart she longed to return to her own land.
He wondered if she had sent the children with the warning, or if they had come on their own accord. There was no way of knowing, for she concealed from him her innermost thoughts even though she could not conceal her desires.
An ax whistled past his ear and he knew that he would do well to concentrate on the battle that surrounded him and put aside his affair of the heart with Serine.
His sword slashed faster and the enemy backed away, knowing instinctively that their adversary was possessed by more than the simple love of battle.
With his men behind him, Rory chased the retreating marauders over the side of the cliffs, where they tumbled to the ground below, dragging their wounded comrades. Insults and threats sounded across the water as Rory and his men chased the boats out
to sea. Defeated, the invaders were more than anxious to be well away from the Celtic madman who continued to threaten their lives.
It wasn’t until they were well gone that Rory had time to notice that Drojan had stopped beside him.
“Well done, warlord. Your brother will be pleased with your work, though he be disappointed in not having returned in time to enjoy the battle himself.” The seer clapped Rory on the back.
“Why did you not warn us?” Rory demanded. “Surely you must have seen danger of this magnitude.”
“I saw the woman and children near the water. I saw boats and confusion. I felt a threat, but thought it might be but the inner battle of the Lady Serine torn between her desire to return to her own country and her desire for you.”
Rory raised his eyebrows and Drojan shrugged. “As you can see,” the seer said, “my heart overruled my head.”
Now it was Rory’s turn to shrug. “I know the feeling,” he admitted as the two men laughed at their own failings.
* * *
Rory returned to the village amid shouts of jubilation. The celebration was twofold. Not only had Rory conquered the Viking pirates, but the woman he had brought to Corvus Croft had sounded the alarm that had saved the village.
The excitement of the moment had sent all thought of Serine’s desire to return to Sheffield from the minds of the children. They were being hailed as heroes and unwilling to cast any aspersions on the festivities.
Serine, however, was unaware of their silence. She retired to her rooms, waiting for the summons from Guthrie that would most likely herald the end of her freedom. She would be allowed no second chance to whisk the children away and could only pray that the opportunity would present itself so she could escape with Hendrick sometime in the future.
She watched listlessly for Rory and his warriors to return. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, and lurched again when she realized he had been bloodied. She longed to go to him, before he was told of her failed escape, and explain that her desire to leave Corvus Croft had nothing to do with her love for him.
She wanted to tend his hurts and keep him from being hurt more. But it was not to be. He went directly to the hall where Guthrie waited and it was but a few minutes before Serine heard a knock on the door and knew she was summoned to account for her actions.
With heavy heart Serine left the questionable security of her rooms. Somehow she must salvage custody of her son. They would not take him away from her. She would not let them. Regardless of her attempted escape, she had saved the life of the headman’s brother and lost her own heart in the bargain. They owed her a debt of honor and she vowed not to let them forget. She vowed they would not take Hendrick from her.
Voices called out to her as she passed the crowd. A cheer went up as she entered the hall. Perhaps all was not lost, she thought as she approached the dais where Guthrie and Rory stood. Hendrick was talking animatedly with several of the other children, the excitement of the day obviously still upon him.
Serine stopped before the men and stared boldly at them, daring them to punish her for what she knew was right and just.
Another cheer went up and Serine looked around to see Ethyl enter the hall. Serine was relieved to see that Ethyl looked none the worse for wear. In fact, she glowed with happiness and excitement. Probably having to do with the fact that Drojan stood at her side.
For a moment Serine felt a surge of envy. How she would have loved to have known Rory was beside her, but it was not to be. Serine stood alone, as she had always stood alone. Even her husband had done little to succor or defend, leaving her much to her own devices as he had gone about fighting in the Crusades.
Perhaps it was her fate to stand alone, but somewhere in her heart was a deep desire to be loved and protected. To pass the scepter of authority and let someone else take the responsibility from her shoulders.
Her eyes met Rory’s. As though reading her mind, he stepped from the platform and drew her toward his brother.
That Serine’s husband was no longer among the living had made a difference. The wanting, the needing to love and be loved was still the same, but the reason for denial had been removed and Rory looked upon Serine with a gaze fired by desire. Even when he felt deep in his heart that she had gone to the sea to take the children and escape, he still could not give voice to his doubts, nor brand her with his accusations before his brother and the council.
He could only hope that Serine had sense enough to do likewise. A well-meant confession would have been folly.
“I assume the invaders were routed?” Her words were directed more to Rory than to his brother.
A smile of pride and satisfaction brightened Guthrie’s face. “Rory has rid us of the invaders, and I have rid our people of the wolf that plagued our livestock. It has been a most satisfying day.”
“I am pleased for you, my lord,” Serine said politely, still wondering how much the man guessed of her thwarted plans.
“How lucky it was that you chose to take the children toward the water,” he probed gently.
“I had hoped to add lichen to my supplies,” she replied in a voice as cool as if she told the truth.
“One of the men who arrived early thought he saw a lone ship running along the shore, away from its fellows. Did you happen to notice it?”
“I believe there may have been such a ship. In the confusion I imagine it might have been separated from the rest.” What a cool liar she was becoming, Serine mused silently.
“One of our captives says he knows nothing of the ship and swears it did not belong to his people.”
“Perhaps it was an errant fisherman,” she suggested blandly. “I have never been knowledgeable in the identification of boats and was in no position to bid them stop and give account of their presence.”
Guthrie looked at his brother. It was obvious that further questioning was useless. Serine would admit nothing. “So be it,” he said aloud. “This is not a time for questions. It is a time for celebration. It is the time to reward those who have served us so admirably this day.”
He raised his arms above his head and the people cheered. “Thanks to the Lady Serine, our village has been spared invasion. And thanks to my brother, Rory, the invader has been driven from our shores.” Again the people cheered. “They must be rewarded for their services,” he proclaimed above the shouts of the throng.
Now he held out his hands for silence and was accorded his appeal. The townsfolk quieted, some of them silently reaching out to lay their hands on the children they claimed and loved as their own. Would Guthrie’s gratitude strip them of their newly found families?
His face told them nothing, but he smiled upon all with confidence and they trusted him to do what was best for all involved.
He signaled to Drojan, and the seer led them away from the boisterous crowd where they could talk without easily being overheard.
“It has not escaped me that very likely you deceived us by asking to take the children on an outing,” he said quietly. “Not being used to devious women, Damask granted your request. There is no way for me to prove my belated apprehensions. Regardless of the reasons for your presence on that cliff, your subsequent actions were done at great risk to yourself and for the benefit of the people of Corvus Croft. If our women could bear children I would gladly release both you and your son, and any of the children of Sheffield who chose to go with you, and allow you to return to your home. However, such is not the case. You will, however, be allowed the continued custody of your son, with Rory as your—”
“Jailer.” She finished the sentence for him. “And you have a very shallow concept of how to show your gratitude.”
Guthrie refused to take offense at her accusations. “Your son will have every opportunity here in Corvus Croft....”
“Except that of his birthright as hereditary lord of Sheffield,” Serine retorted.
“If Sheffield is more important to you than Hendrick, you are welcome to return to your estate, alone.” It
was Rory’s voice that issued the challenge.
“Your memory is very short, it seems.” She flung the words at him.
“If you wish to compare memories, or the lack thereof, I will be more than happy to do so...but privately.” He turned to his brother. “There is no sense in trading insults for the entertainment of the entire village. I’m sure Serine and I can work out some sort of amicable agreement between ourselves. And right now I am weary from riding and fighting and feel encrusted with the blood of my enemies.”
“Of course,” Guthrie agreed. Actually, he had been enjoying the sparring match with Serine, but saw Rory’s point. It was better to allow the woman to leave than to have her somehow best him before the townsfolk. “Go and refresh yourself.” He glanced meaningfully at Serine and concluded, “And take your woman with you.”
Serine gasped aloud, but Rory had taken her arm and was propelling her through the crowd toward the door. “Hold your tongue, lest you lose what little advantage you have left.” He thrust her ahead of him toward their apartments.
“Advantage! Every advantage should be offered me,” Serine protested as they reached the door. “First I saved your miserable life, and now I have saved your village from invasion. In my country a personage with such recommendation would be honored and rewarded.”
He closed the door behind him before answering. “The very fact that you were at the water’s edge when the invaders arrived has given question as to whether they were there on your bequest. Until my brother can ascertain the truth of the matter you will do well to tread lightly.”
“Old Ethyl risked her life to keep the men from reaching the top of the cliff,” Serine noted.
“Ethyl’s actions are not in question,” Rory told her bluntly. “Nor are the actions of the children. It is only yourself and your intentions.”
“How can you accuse me?” she demanded.
“Because I know what I would do in like circumstances, Serine. Now, send for the servants to bring water. I need to cleanse myself of the blood and sweat of battle as well as the shadows of doubt. Perhaps when the haze of weariness is washed away I will see things more clearly and more to your benefit.”
Barbara Leigh Page 13