England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection
Page 141
She giggled, pointing to his mail coat. “Your mail looks very heavy.”
He nodded. “It is,” he agreed. “In fact, it almost weighs as much as you do. It is built to withstand a great deal.”
“I have seen you wear more pieces of armor on your body,” she said as she watched him secure the vambrace on his right arm. “Why do you only wear pieces of it at times and then all of it other times?”
He looked at her as he shook his arm to settle the vambrace in to the correct position. “When I am outside of this fortress or any place exposed, I wear every piece of armor I own,” he replied. “I have a breast plate, back plate, greaves, and any number of other pieces. But when I am inside the fortress, I dress down slightly. I am not expecting an attack from within but one must always be prepared for the unexpected.”
She watched him finish with the coat and tug on his boots. “Have you ever been badly injured?”
He looked at her, finished dressing. “Nay,” he replied honestly. “I have been hit on more than one occasion, but never seriously.”
Before she could ply him with more questions, he bent over and scooped her up from the bed, covers and all, and carried her with him to the door. Chloë wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead against his cheek.
“Now,” he said softly, kissing her forehead. “I will go downstairs and find out what the king has to say and you will go back to sleep. The sun is just starting to appear.”
She gazed up at him, her face so sweet in the dim light of the room. “Keir?”
“Aye, love?”
“Please…,” she faltered. “Please come back to me when you are finished. I do not want the next time I see you to be in the great hall with everyone else around us. I want you to return to me before the sun rises when it is just the two of us.”
He looked at her, a faint smile on his lips, as he leaned over and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. “You tempt me beyond reason, lady,” he murmured. “If I return before sunrise, then we more than likely will not make it to the great hall at all. Your parents will come looking for you and should they find me here, we might be in for more trouble than we know.”
She held him around the neck as he kissed and nuzzled her cheek. “Please,” she begged softly, closing her eyes at his blissful attentions. “I cannot stand you away from me, not even for an hour. I will be counting the minutes until you come back to me.”
He kissed her ear, her cheek, her mouth. “As will I,” he agreed, gently setting her to her feet. “I will return as soon as I know what the king would have of me.”
“Promise?”
“Of course I do.”
She smiled, seemingly satisfied. “Go then,” she urged. “Hurry back.”
He took her hand and kissed it as he put his fingers on the latch. “I will.”
“Keir?”
“Aye, sweet?”
“I love you very much.”
His heart was softened by her words, her very presence. He cupped her face between his two enormous hands and kissed her gently.
“I love you, too.”
With that, he opened the door, made sure there was no one in the landing outside, before slipping out into the dark stairwell. Chloë shut the door behind him and bolted it, missing the man already.
*
“This is ugly, Keir,” Coverdale sounded exhausted. He looked exhausted, half-dressed as he met with his senior soldiers in his lavish solar. “We have a new Welsh prince rebelling against the king and Edward has requested support. This new prince is cunning and powerful, and he has already sacked Caernarfon.”
Keir stared at the man, shocked. “Caernarfon?” he repeated incredulously. “That place is a mighty and impenetrable bastion. That is pure madness to think the Welsh could overrun it.”
Coverdale lifted an eyebrow, turning for his great oak desk which held the missive sent by the king.
“I would agree with you, but Edward would not lie,” he said pointedly. He picked up the missive again and looked at the carefully scribed letters. “Caernarfon, Hawarden, Denbeigh and Ruthin have also fallen under Welsh control and the English garrison commanders killed. Edward is riding to battle again and he asks that you ride with him.”
Keir was stunned. He stood in the center of the solar, surrounded by his brother, Lucan, and other Coverdale knights, all of them as shocked as he was. His mind was whirling with the news and he held out his hand to Coverdale, who was still holding the missive.
“Did he ask for me by name?” he asked.
“He did.
“May I read the missive, my lord?”
Byron handed it over. Keir could read and write, unlike most knights, and he quickly read every word of the beautifully written missive that looked more like a piece of art than a communiqué. It had Edward’s stamp all over it. Then he read it again, more slowly, absorbing the contents and attempting to wrap his mind around the words.
“Madog ap Llewelyn, cousin to Llewelyn the Last, has declared himself the lawful Prince of Wales and has wrought much havoc throughout northern Wales,” he muttered, his eyes riveted to the vellum as he read it word for word. “The king has sent missives to all the great northern lords requesting men and material to gather at Beeston Castle in Chester. Remembering my meritorious service at the Battle of Irfon Bridge, the king orders me to take command of the Army from the North under the Earl of Lincoln’s supervision and move west into Wales by the first of October.”
“Are you serious?” Kurtis repeated, his normally calm voice laced with disbelief. “You already fought a hard-won battle against Llewelyn the Last, Keir. You ambushed the man and defeated him. You have done your duty.”
Keir snorted ironically. “It appears that I am ordered to do my duty again,” he said with more control than he felt. “Madog has overrun five castles and all indications are that he is moving for Harlech and Conwy Castles next. When the Army of the North moves, it will be for Harlech.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Kurtis was shocked into silence and Keir remained fixed on the vellum. Everyone was waiting for him to say more, but there was no more to be said. The contents of the missive had been revealed.
Coverdale sighed heavily, moving for the wine. It was early in the morning to be drinking but he found he needed it.
“I will supply you with five hundred men, Keir,” he said quietly, turning to look at the knight who was still looking at the vellum. “Staring at that missive will not change the contents. You must ride to Chester immediately because men will be arriving and looking for direction, including Henry de Lacy, the Earl of Lincoln. You must be there to lead them.”
Keir stared at the vellum a moment longer before handing it back to Coverdale. He was thinking so many things at that moment – although it was a great honor to be called back to service by the king, Keir wanted no part of it. He wanted to marry Chloë and return to Pendragon to live a nice, quiet life with his new wife. He didn’t want to return to Wales and back into the heart of the nasty fighting that had gripped the country for so long. He’d never heard of Madog ap Llewelyn, but he had a feeling the man was going to be the bane of his existence from now on. Already, the man had disrupted his plans of a wonderful and happy life.
“Kurtis,” he said, his voice raw and somewhat weak with resignation. “Is it possible that Northumberland has received the call for support for Wales?”
Kurtis knew what his brother was feeling; God help him, he knew all too well. He, too, had served with Keir in Wales, back when they were young and had a false sense of immortality. Since they had done their duty in Wales, they had happily retired to the north of England to relatively quiet lives. Kurtis had seen action against the Scots but it had been nothing like the vicious wars in Wales. Something about the Welshmen was brutal and animalistic, fighting on a level rarely seen. Kurtis didn’t relish getting back into that situation as he nodded to his brother’s question.
“More than likely,” he replied. “If that is the case, he will more th
an likely keep me at Alnwick and send other knights with the army. With the Scots border being so close and potentially volatile, he will want me with him.”
Keir turned to look at him, silent words passing between the brothers. They both knew the stakes and Kurtis would much rather go and fight with his brother, but the truth was that his liege was old and set in his ways, and he depended upon Kurtis a great deal. He would not let him go to Wales, not even to fight for the king. Kurtis began to feel some desperation as he gazed into his brother’s eyes. They would be separated and Keir would go to battle without him.
“Perhaps we should just tell Edward that you are not to be found,” he said, grasping at the last straws of hope. “Pembury can go in your stead. Let Michael fight off the Welsh this time.”
Keir opened his mouth to reply but Coverdale cut him off. “Keir will be marrying a niece of the king,” he reminded them. “If Edward finds out that Keir shirked a direct order, the consequences could be critical. I forbid you to even consider such a thing.”
Keir was much calmer than he should have been. His gaze lingered on his brother, on the other knights in the room, all the while having difficulty believing that any of this was real. To be ordered back to Wales to quell a rebellion that was already massive and deadly in size was not a light undertaking. It was as important and serious as it could possibly be, the worst news he could have imagined to hear. Perhaps it was a big joke meant to rattle him. He simply couldn’t believe what was happening, not now when he was finally happy again and his life was in order. It was God’s cruel joke.
As Keir wrestled with his immediate future, Coverdale watched him closely for any signs of an explosion. He couldn’t believe the man was taking the news so calmly but sought to capitalize on the Keir’s seemingly numb demeanor.
“The men will be ready to leave at dawn on the morrow,” he told Keir. “Take this day to get your affairs in order. At daybreak tomorrow, you will ride for Chester.”
Keir turned to him. “Summon a priest,” he said quietly. “If this is to be my last day with Chloë, then I intend to marry her this day.”
Coverdale nodded. “I will send for one immediately. Is there anything else?”
Keir struggled to collect his thoughts. “Aye,” he added. “Send for Pembury. I have need of him.”
“Of course.”
There wasn’t much more to say after that. Keir has his orders, as horrible as they were, and he quit the solar in silence, waving off Kurtis when the man tried to follow. All he could think of was how Chloë was going to accept the news. Keir had a thousand preparations to make before he departed Aysgarth but the only thing he could think of at the moment was Chloë. He wanted to hold her, to make love to her, to swear he would return to her when the madness in Wales was over.
As he mounted the stairs to the upper levels of the keep, he realized he was scared to death that he would not return to her. He couldn’t stomach the thought of not growing old with her, of not seeing any children they might have. He couldn’t stand the thought of going back on his promise to her. Perhaps she would lose him, after all.
When he reached her chamber door in the dark, shadowed hallway, he realized that his palms were sweating. It was a struggle to remain calm. Softly, he knocked on the door and in little time, Chloë answered.
Seeing her smiling face was something of a shock, one that almost put tears in his eyes, but he fought the extreme emotions surging in his chest and smiled in return. He slipped into the room and she bolted the door behind him.
“Well?” she demanded, turning to him. Dressed in a soft white dressing gown, she looked radiant and beautiful. “What did the missive say?”
He continued to smile, holding out his arms to her. “Unlatch my armor and I will tell you,” he tried to sound as casual as he could. “By the way, I was thinking as I was walking up the stairs about our wedding date. We have not set one, you know.”
Successfully diverted, Chloë nodded as she unfastened the straps on the forearm protection. “My mother is sending out announcements today,” she said. “In fact, the riders should have already left, as it was her intention to begin sending them out at sunrise. Mother was preparing missives last night with the help of Coverdale’s scribe. There should already be several going out this morning and, I am sure, one directly to Ingilby.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Why him?”
Chloë shrugged, unfastening the other piece of armor. “Mother feels that if he knows I am betrothed, he will leave me alone and seek a target elsewhere.”
Keir grunted. “Absolutely not,” he grumbled. “Sending him a missive is asking for trouble. She may as well go to him personally and laugh in his face. He will see it as a direct insult.”
The pieces of armor came off in her hands and she deposited them into his big palm. “I do not see how,” she argued gently. “If he knows I am married, then why continue to pursue me? He will know I am out of his reach.”
Keir just shook his head, displeased with Lady de Geld’s intentions. “This is not a wise decision.”
She watched him bend over to remove his mail coat. “Should I tell her what you have said?”
He peeled the mail coat off and stood up. “Nay,” he said. “I am going to find your mother myself and see if the missive has gone out yet. If it has not, it never will. If it has, then I will send someone out to retrieve the messenger. It was foolish and arrogant of her to send a wedding announcement to a man who very nearly razed her castle because of an unrequited love. I fear he will only be a threat to you in the future.”
Chloë could see he was upset about it and she made her way to him, timidly, as he laid the mail coat over a chair.
“I am not worried, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You will protect me.”
He looked at her, sharply, as if she had just struck him. All he could think of was that he could not protect her if he was in Wales. She was smiling up at him and he felt his control slipping. He couldn’t look at her and not feel the horrific pangs of grief slash at him like claws.
After a moment, he reached out and pulled her against him, holding her so tightly against his chest that she grunted when he tightened his grip. His cheek was against the top of her head, feeling the soft texture against his skin. He sighed faintly, deeply distressed at what he must tell her. The time had come.
“I want you to listen to what I am about to tell you very carefully, sweetheart,” he demanded. “It is important.”
Chloë held him tightly, burrowed against his chest and belly. “Of course.”
He paused a moment as he collected his thoughts. “Do you remember when I told your mother of my history as a knight, that I mentioned my service for the king in Wales?”
She nodded, rubbing her luscious hair against his cheek as she did so. “I do. Is that what was contained in the missive? Did the king send something to that regard?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he caressed her back gently with one big hand. “He remembers my victory against the Welsh prince. It was a great victory although I think it was skill coupled with a good deal of luck. It seems that there is another uprising in Wales at this time and the king has requested my assistance with it.”
“Your assistance?” her head came off his chest, the big brown eyes gazing up at him. “What does he want from you?”
He held her head between his hands, his thumbs on her cheeks. “He wants me to go to Wales and help him quell the uprising. It seems that I am the only man in all of England who knows how to suppress a rebelling Welsh prince.”
She looked at him for a moment, digesting the information, before shaking her head. “You cannot go,” she said flatly. “We are getting married soon and we are going to live peacefully at Pendragon. You have already done your duty for the king. He will have to find someone else to help him quash the Welsh.”
He almost laughed. She said it firmly, as if she was issuing a command to both him and the king. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
The brown eyes grew cloudy when she realized there was no choice in the matter, and she pulled away from his caressing hands.
“You cannot,” she countered sternly. “You and I are to be married soon.”
“Aye, we are,” he agreed. “We will be married today before I leave.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Leave?” she repeated, growing increasingly agitated. “You are not leaving.”
He sighed faintly, seeing that an explosion of epic proportions was brewing.
“Sweetheart, I must,” he said gently. “I do not have a choice. The king has placed me in charge of the armies gathering in the north. I am to lead the armies into Wales and support the king’s efforts against Madog ap Llewelyn as he tries to usurp the king in Wales.”
Her mouth popped open. “Who is this Madog?” she snapped. “I have never heard of him. And you cannot go because we are to be married.”
He shook his head, exasperated because she did not seem to understand what he was telling her. Everything revolved around their marriage, around what she wanted for her perfect life. He wanted it, too, but the reality was harsh and brutal.
“Chloë, my sweet love, listen to me, please,” he went to her, grasping her by the arms and holding her firmly when she tried to pull away. “We will be married today and I will send you back to Pendragon with Pembury. You will stay there, well protected, until I return from Wales.”
“Nay,” she said angrily, the tears starting to come. “You cannot go, Keir. You swore you would never leave me, not ever.”
He pulled her into an embrace even as she struggled. “Of course I will never leave you,” he kissed her head, her angry red cheek. He tried to look her in the eye but she was still fighting him. “I will always be in your heart, your soul, in everything about you. A man cannot love something as much as I love you and not be a part of the very air you breathe.”
The tears were falling now, fast and furious. She gripped him, sobbing loudly as she collapsed against his chest. Keir held her tightly, so very sorry she was so upset. His heart ached for the both of them.