By Stephen Windwalker
Editor of Kindle Nation Daily ©Kindle Nation Daily 2010
Editor of Kindle Nation Daily ©Kindle Nation Daily 2010
Today's Free Kindle Nation Short features the work of a favorite author among Kindle Nation citizens, Karen Fenech, as she takes us back to a time -- the first half of the 12th century -- that has been much on the minds of many fiction readers lately due to the sweeping saga of Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth.
by Karen Fenech
Kindle Price: $2.99
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"I love a good medieval and Karen Fenech has written a dandy! This one's a keeper." --New York Times Bestselling Author Kat Martin
"An excellent read." --Donna M. Brown, Romantic Times Magazine, four star review
"{An} entertaining storyline. Medieval romance readers will welcome this fine twelfth century tale."
---HARRIET KLAUSNER, MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW
"Ms. Fenech gives us a story of romance that teases with suspense and danger. Readers will enjoy watching this dance of love, subterfuge and revelation."
---LOVE ROMANCES FOUR HEART REVIEW
---HARRIET KLAUSNER, MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW
"Ms. Fenech gives us a story of romance that teases with suspense and danger. Readers will enjoy watching this dance of love, subterfuge and revelation."
---LOVE ROMANCES FOUR HEART REVIEW
To save her son and people from a deadly enemy, Lady Katherine Stanfield marries her former betrothed, a man she'd betrayed but has never stopped loving.
Katherine has never revealed her reason for the betrayal and now, five years later, believes her secret is safe.
But someone won't let the past rest. Someone with a secret of his own. She must stop that "someone" because he wants Katherine and her new husband dead.
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An Excerpt from
Betrayal
A Novel By Karen Fenech
Betrayal
A Novel By Karen Fenech
Copyright 2006, 2010 by Karen Fenech and reprinted here with her permission.
Chapter One
England, 1122
"Lord Ranulf is through the gate, my lady. Our men won't be able to hold him off much longer."
"Through the gate" meant Ranulf was minutes away from entering the keep. Her small force had put up a valiant fight, holding Ranulf and his knights off for almost two days, but Katherine knew the defeat was inevitable. Her force could not stand against the might of Ranulf's.
And once he was inside . . . Katherine closed her eyes.
"My lady?"
Katherine focused on Sir Guy, commander of her guard. He stood at the foot of her bed, where Katherine lay propped against pillows cuddling the boy she'd delivered three hours earlier. "Any word from de Lauren?" she asked softly.
Sir Guy shook his head slowly.
When Ranulf had first attacked, Katherine had sent a messenger to Nicholas de Lauren, asking for aid. De Lauren's keep was a half day's ride from her own. Her message had been urgent. De Lauren would have arrived here by now . . . if he were coming.
"'Twas never certain de Lauren would heed your call, Lady Katherine. We can wait no longer."
Nay, she had not been certain Nicholas would come. But she'd hoped. She and Sir Guy had come up with a plan if de Lauren did not render aid. In keeping with it, Sir Guy now stood garbed as a peasant. He was right. They could wait no longer for de Lauren.
Katherine ran her fingertips over the blonde hair so like peach fuzz that covered her son's pink scalp. Tears blurred her vision of him. His very existence as heir to Stanfield would condemn him to death.
Marriage to Ranulf would end this siege. He'd made his terms plain. He wanted Stanfield, her family's holding and its assets, and she was his means to that end. Or she had been. Her son's birth changed that. Marriage to her now would gain Ranulf nothing.
Unless her son were dead. If Ranulf learned of her son's birth, she had no doubt she would lose two children this day. Her son's twin sister, as perfect as an angel, lay at peace in the cradle by Katherine's bed. The girl-child had been stillborn. God had given and God had taken away . . .
And now, God forgive her, the only way to save her son from Ranulf was to use the boy's dead sister.
"Sir Guy," Katherine said. "How go the preparations for our departure?"
"All is ready. Horses await us in the forest beyond the hidden passages."
Sir Guy had been in service to her family since before Katherine's birth. Other than herself only he knew of the escape passages that existed beneath the keep.
Middy, Katherine's old nursemaid, stood dwarfed by Sir Guy. "Me lady," Middy said, "You are not yet healed from the births. How will you ride?"
Katherine did not need to be reminded of the long deliveries. Her slightest movement brought pain. "I will ride because I must," she said.
"Will you not change your course an' ride with us?" Middy asked.
Katherine shook her head. "When Ranulf finds me gone from here he will leave no stone unturned in his search. To ride with you is to risk capture for my son." Katherine glanced at her daughter. "Ranulf will see that the babe I delivered this day is dead. Only we in this room know of a second babe." Softly she added, "And I must make my appeal to de Lauren in person." She must not fail.
"How will you send word that the keep is secure?" Sir Guy asked.
"You will know to return when the Stanfield banner flies again."
Katherine hugged her child tight. She kissed him then wiped her tears from his pale skin.
"See him safe, Sir Guy, until I can reclaim him."
"I will protect him with my life."
Katherine nodded. She expected nothing less.
Middy shuffled to the bedside and Katherine placed her child in the old woman's outstretched arms. "Go with God, my son."
Katherine watched the door close behind them. A few minutes more and they would be in the passages. She could only hope that with the battle raging outside the keep their escape would go undetected.
She slid to the edge of her bed. Clutching the bedpost, she stood, and made her way to the hearth. The June air blowing in through her window now was warm, but it had been night when her labor began, and a fire had been lit. Low flames still licked at blackened logs.
Above the hearth, behind the likeness of her father, was the map to the passages. Her father had shown it to William when he'd married Katherine. William had not been concerned with escape routes when he'd asked to see the map, Katherine knew, but with the path that led to the Stanfield jewels that were her bride-price.
The jewels could finance a kingdom. Ranulf must not find them.
She removed the map and tossed it into the fire.
At her clothes chest, she tossed in her wedding band and withdrew the ragged and dirty peasant's garb that Middy had left for her. She withdrew a cloak sewn in the blue and white colors of Stanfield. She dressed quickly then went to her daughter and knelt before the cradle. Her eyes filled with tears. Tonight, she should be sitting vigil with her child in the chapel. Instead, her daughter would be here in this room, alone. And come morning, this tiny innocent would not be laid to rest. Leaving her child was essential to the plan she and Sir Guy had devised, but now that the moment had arrived, how could she do it?
Shouts rang out from below. The clang of swords. Screams, hideous screams. Ranulf was inside. Had enough time passed for Sir Guy and Middy to reach the passages? To think not was the way to madness.
Katherine's hands trembled with the need to take her daughter's body in her arms and flee with it. But she must choose life over death. Her son's life. She leaned forward and kissed her daughter's cold lips, then draped the cloak over her. The Stanfield cloak would mark the babe as hers and satisfy Ranulf's bloodlust for her child.
* * *
Night had fallen when she emerged from the passages. Stars lit the sky. She rubbed dirt over her face, hands, and in her blonde hair. Unbound, it fell to her hips. Blowing free in the wind, it would tangle and snarl. Even now, Ranulf's men may be searching for her. Very soon, she would not be recognizable as the lady of Stanfield.
The horse Sir Guy had promised was tied to a tree in the dense growth of the forest beyond the passages. A sorry sight the animal was, Katherine thought as she seized the reins. But dressed as she was, a sturdier beast would attract attention.
Katherine untied the reins and led the horse to a fallen log. She climbed onto it and, with the added height, mounted. Pain shot through her middle. She hung across the horse's bare back, inhaling and exhaling shaky breaths; then, gritting her teeth, she gained her seat and kicked the horse forward.
De Lauren's keep was west. The quickest way there was to travel the roads, but she kept to the woods. She knew the dangers criminals posed to a woman traveling without escort. But she couldn't risk encountering other innocent travelers either, who might be able to tell Ranulf's men that a lone woman had passed this way.
Low-hanging trees filtered the moonlight. But she knew the route well. So often she'd traveled between her land and de Lauren's. So long ago. A lifetime, it seemed.
The air cooled. Owls hooted. In the distance a coyote howled. The horses' sides heaved, but she pushed him on. She stopped at a stream, and sipped from a water skin that Sir Guy had thoughtfully provided, while the horse lowered its head to drink. The poor beast had carried her for hours. Best if she would dismount and relieve him of her weight. She was afraid the animal would not last to see her to her destination. But if she dismounted, Katherine knew she'd be unable to mount again.
She pressed on. Light from a low fire glowed a short distance ahead. Someone had made camp. "Easy, my lad," she whispered to the horse. She drew on the reins to slow the animal to a walk, then led him wide of the light.
The horse emerged from the cover of trees. The first grey streaks of dawn lit the sky and she saw the familiar massive stone fortress. De Lauren's keep. She felt relief to have arrived, though she was not certain of her welcome. She dug her heels into the horse's sides.
Three soldiers rode out to her. De Lauren's men-she recognized the black and gold colors they wore. Night patrollers. Two knights flanked her while the third halted his horse in front of her. She pulled up the reins.
The knight facing her said, "State your business."
"I am-" her voice cracked. She cleared her dry throat. "I am Lady Katherine of Stanfield. I beg an audience with Lord de Lauren."
The young knight grinned. "And I'm King Henry himself." He leaned forward on the saddle horn. "Come on, sweet, try again."
Despite her altered appearance and that she would arrive without escort, she hadn't considered that she would not be taken at her word. She'd given a ring that bore the Stanfield crest to her messenger to present to de Lauren along with her handwritten note. And she had nothing now to prove her identity to these guards. Or did she . . .
Katherine removed the gold chain and cross she wore beneath her ragged clothing. She held the neck chain out to the knight. "Take this to your lord as proof that I am who I say."
De Lauren would recognize the necklace as hers. Proof of her identity, though, was not the main issue, she knew. Her messenger would have left no doubt he'd been dispatched in her name. And yet de Lauren had not come to her aid.
The knight took the neck chain and Katherine clasped her hands tightly. The chain was thread-thin, the cross tiny, yet it was more than a serf would own. Katherine thought that fact prevented the knight from dismissing her claim entirely.
The knight nodded. The soldier to her left seized her reins. They led her slowly to the keep. As they neared, the knight in front called out, "Open the gate."
Though it was barely dawn, armed soldiers strode across the courtyard. De Lauren commanded a large and powerful army, a force, she knew, not to be challenged.
She waited in the courtyard, with two of de Lauren's guards, while the third entered the castle. The sun crested the tower now, blinding her with its light. Bright spots popped in front of her eyes. Her head spun. She clutched the pommel.
"Lady Katherine."
Her blurred vision cleared. The knight came into focus. The one who'd entered the castle now stood at her side, looking up at her. He held out his hand. Her cross dangled from his fingertips. Katherine's stomach clenched. Had de Lauren sent the man away?
"Lord de Lauren will see you now, my lady."
The knot in her stomach eased and Katherine nodded.
The knight handed the cross to her, then gripped her waist and lowered her to her feet.
She clutched his shoulders. Had he not held her, she would fall onto her face. Her legs trembled. "A moment," she said.
When she took a step away from the man, he must have still doubted her ability to walk unaided. He offered his arm.
Inside the castle, the morning meal was being served. The aroma blended with the floral scent of fresh rushes that crunched under her feet. Knights at table laughed and called out coarse jests to serving maids who responded in kind. What were her own people facing this morning? Katherine tasted bile. The merriment here was obscene to her.
She was escorted up stairs and down a short corridor. The knight stopped at a door that she knew opened into the solar. He knocked once, then opened the door for her. De Lauren sat at a table. That, two tapestried chairs, and a bench beneath the window were the only furnishings. Parchment was spread out on the table, before him. He looked at her.
She waited on the threshold, but he did not bid her enter. So be it. She entered uninvited, though not far into the room. It was she who was here begging favors. She curtsied, passably she hoped, since her legs felt less than steady. "Thank you for seeing me, my lord."
De Lauren stood. She stood only as tall as his shoulders and tilted her head back to meet his gaze.
He bowed. "My pleasure, my lady."
His bow had been shallow, his tone mocking. No doubt she looked a sight. Unlike him. Five years had passed since she'd seen him. His body still attested to the rigorous training that saw him through many a fight for his life. He wore his hair shorter now, the black ends just curling over his nape. His face was leaner than she remembered, but no less handsome.
"My lord," she said. "I am here in person to request your intervention with Lord Ranulf on behalf of my people of Stanfield-"
"Your people? Widowed what, a fortnight, my lady, you waste no time in asserting your repossession of Stanfield."
Katherine licked her dry lips. "As I explained in my message to you-"
"I received no message."
That did not bode well for Robert, her messenger. She closed her eyes briefly. She had to concentrate on the fact that de Lauren had not summarily dismissed her plea. Hope fluttered in her stomach. "Two days ago, Lord Ranulf laid siege to Stanfield Keep. My late husband had taken the bulk of our forces to defend an ally to the east. Our army was badly depleted in the battle that took my husband's life. The forces that remained were not sufficient to defeat Lord Ranulf. His troops overpowered mine last evening and seized the holding."
"You say you sent a messenger to me?"
"Upon Ranulf's arrival, I dispatched a messenger, requesting aid from you."
"What of Meredith, your late husband's ally to the north? Surely he would have rallied to your cause?" He looked into her eyes. "I find it surprising you would come to me. As you know, de Lauren and Stanfield have not been allied in five years."
Since her marriage to William. She'd broken her betrothal to de Lauren to marry William. "My lord, I could not risk approaching Lord Meredith. You may not be aware that Ranulf as well was my husband's ally."
De Lauren grunted. "Ah, yes. One jackal is dead, and the ones that remain battle each other for what was his."
Though she agreed with de Lauren's analogy, Katherine said nothing.
"Perhaps you should have paid Meredith or Ranulf a call garbed as you are at this moment. Your appearance, my lady, would raise doubt that the Stanfield wealth they seek has not been squandered."
She ignored the insult. "My lord, my cause is great-"
"Indeed."
De Lauren's eyes were cold. He might very well applaud her destruction by Ranulf. Gooseflesh rose on her skin.
"If you will not help me," she said, "then please consider the innocents at Stanfield."
He watched her in silence then said, "What will be my reward for retaking your keep from Ranulf?"
He would discuss terms. Relief made her light-headed. "Name your price, and it shall be yours."
De Lauren walked in a slow circle around her, looking her up, then down. "Your husband's demise has again made you a great heiress. Yet, I see no jewels."
Surely he did not think she'd traveled here with valuables? "They remain in safekeeping at Stanfield."
"Payment to be made after I have won your battle?"
She nodded. "Once the keep has been secured, I will obtain your payment."
"You are asking me to trust you to make good on your promise to meet my price?"
"I will gladly pay what I owe you."
De Lauren laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "I am no longer the fool I was five years ago, to now take you at your word."
Nay, he would no longer trust her. "Tell me your terms then, and I will honor them."
De Lauren bared his teeth in a smile that chilled her. "A gesture of good faith, perhaps?" He brushed his thumb across her cheek. Dirt stained his skin. "I recall great beauty beneath this filth. Will you offer yourself?"
He would make a whore of her? She felt as if something inside her died. In a whisper she gave him the only answer she could. "If that is what it will take."
He leaned toward her. "Five years ago the only jewel I sought from the wealth of Stanfield was you." His jaw clenched briefly. "That time has long passed. While you no longer appeal, I would have Stanfield. That is my price. Marry me this day and I will liberate your people."
She'd given up the dream of marriage to de Lauren five years ago. He'd left no illusion that what he was proposing now was a second chance at that dream. Through her he believed he would acquire Stanfield. A lie.
If she told him about her son . . . Nicholas was not Ranulf. Nicholas would not harm an innocent. No matter what he stood to gain.
But his aid was conditional. He would withhold it if she told him marriage to her would gain him nothing but overseeing lands for a child who was not his . . .
"My patience wears thin, my lady. I will have your decision."
He believed she'd betrayed him when she broke their betrothal. If she agreed to this marriage, she would betray him again. Softly Katherine said, "I will pay your price."
Chapter Two
"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
It was done. She and de Lauren were married. She would be free of Ranulf. As for de Lauren, she would be forever grateful for his intervention, despite how it was obtained, and she would do all she could to make up to him the loss of Stanfield.
The little priest completed the sign of the cross then lowered his arms and bowed to de Lauren. He rose from his knees. Her hand was atop his to receive the priest's blessing, and as de Lauren gained his feet, she teetered, and clutched his fingers. He didn't seem to notice her desperate grab; didn't even glance her way. She made it to her feet and he left her side.
She felt less than steady on her legs, due to fatigue and not pain. The worst discomfort had faded. She'd had no time to rest since her arrival at de Lauren Keep. Once she'd agreed to the marriage, de Lauren sent for the resident priest. A round-faced maidservant-Bessie she'd called herself-had offered a bath. No doubt a bath was in order, but time was wasting. Katherine had asked for a pitcher of water and had cleaned her face and hands right in the solar. Her hair needed the most cleansing. No help for that. She wound twine around it and left it to fall down the middle of her back.
The priest arrived as she'd knotted the twine. In the doorway to the solar, the small man exchanged words with de Lauren, then shook his head. She could guess a wedding without banns being read had agitated the good father. But until there was a wedding, de Lauren would not remove Ranulf from Stanfield. She was prepared to intervene herself-to plead her case, or to offer a sizeable dispensation if that was what it would take to satisfy the church-but de Lauren spoke again. The priest bowed. Katherine's stomach unclenched.
Now the wedding was done. Now they would ride to Stanfield.
Bessie held a tray out to Katherine with sweet meats, bread, water, and ale. "Some refreshment, Lady de Lauren?"
She had not eaten since yesterday, but her stomach burned. She waved away the food, took only a goblet of water. Her head pounded. How long until they rode to Stanfield?
De Lauren stood with his back to her, speaking with Stephen. During the brief wedding ceremony, she'd glimpsed Nicholas' younger brother standing at a side wall. Stephen had once been like a brother to her, too, but their camaraderie had ended when she'd left Nicholas. She'd missed Stephen.
She joined the men.
" . . . the keep is situated."
Stephen fell silent. Their eyes met. There'd been confusion there and concern for her as well as his brother when he'd questioned her following the breakup. Now, she saw only contempt. She looked away from it.
De Lauren turned around.
"My lord," Katherine said, "I would know your plans for retaking Stanfield."
"Would you?"
"I have knowledge that would enable you to come upon Ranulf unawares."
She did not want to reveal the existence of the passages. They were only useful because they were unknown. But Ranulf would spot a frontal attack.
De Lauren crossed his arms. "By all means, share this knowledge with us."
"There are passages beneath the keep that are unknown to all but myself and commander of my guard. It is through these passages that I escaped and made my way here to you. If you would allow me, I will draw a map of the caverns."
De Lauren pointed to the table.
She went to it. De Lauren followed, and turned a sheet of the parchment over. Katherine huddled over the table and picked up a quill. She took a breath. After a few moments, she straightened. "This area, beyond the road, is forest," she said. "The hidden entrance to the keep is north, through these trees for a quarter mile, to a narrow cave." She pointed to the X she'd drawn. "You must not veer from your northerly direction. The growth is dense, barely penetrable, and conceals the cave. If you veer you will walk past it.
"The cave's entrance is a scarce slit in the stone. One of stout proportions would find himself wedged between the rock. The passage remains tight for a time, but is straight. It declines gradually, widening with the descent. Eventually, you will reach its bottom. When you begin to ascend you will know you are entering the castle."
"And where does this exit?"
"The dungeons. The only way to access them is from a secluded hall at the back of the castle. It is a distance from the living quarters. Stairs from the dungeons lead to and from that hall."
De Lauren nodded to Stephen.
"When do you ride?" Katherine asked.
"Within the hour," de Lauren said.
"My lord, I would ride with you," Katherine said. "When you claim the keep, my people will not know whether you be friend or foe. My presence will reassure them."
De Lauren looked into her eyes. She had to force herself not to step back from the malice she saw there. "You are the soul of compassion this day, as well as a font of knowledge. Aye, you will ride with us, my lady wife. I would be certain that you are not in league with Ranulf and seeking to rid him of his strongest adversary."
A trap? He thought she and Ranulf had set a trap?
Her cheeks heated with anger. "Surely you know Ranulf's reputation. Do you believe I would entrust my people to his brutal care?"
"I have yet to see if Ranulf has held true to his reputation with Stanfield. I have learned firsthand what you are capable of." He leaned toward her, close enough that his breath brushed her cheek. "Heed me well. If you have made a bargain with that devil to betray me, take the opportunity while I am occupied with killing him, and make use of the escape passages."
De Lauren nodded to Stephen and the men left.
Katherine had stopped breathing. She exhaled now. Her hands had gone cold and she rubbed them together to warm them. She had naught to concern her. When he breached Stanfield, de Lauren would see that she had not betrayed him with Ranulf.
She heard the thunder of horses and went to the window. Stable lads led the large beasts into the courtyard. Knights, with the aid of their squires, donned mail and gauntlets. Servants loaded provisions onto packhorses. The vast courtyard was quickly becoming filled with de Lauren's mighty force.
The door to the solar opened. Bessie curtsied. "I'm to take you to Lord de Lauren, lady."
Katherine thought she would be taken to the courtyard to be told they were ready to ride. But she was led above stairs. She'd spent much happy time here, during their betrothal, five years ago. She remembered the keep well and could have asked Bessie where de Lauren awaited her, then made her way there, herself. But she followed Bessie.
Bessie led her down the narrow corridor to de Lauren's bedchamber. She'd been inside his room once, with his mother. Step-mother, Katherine reminded herself. Lady Margaret had been Lord Anthony's second wife, and their son, Stephen, was Nicholas' half-brother.
The love in her voice when Lady Margaret spoke of Nicholas made it easy to forget that she wasn't his birth mother. That she hadn't come into his life until his seventh year. Katherine remembered how the great lady had strolled around Nicholas' room. With a laugh, she'd teased, "No doubt once you occupy this chamber with my son, the decor will improve."
The large room had been sparsely furnished with a clothes trunk at the foot of the bed, and a pitcher and basin on a chair. Nicholas' polished armor and battle gear hung on a wooden stand. Katherine had smiled and thought Nicholas did not appreciate clutter.
Lady Margaret had continued her tour. "Were you to remove the weapons from the wall, the atmosphere would be less a battlefield. I've tried for years to replace those instruments with tapestry. Nicholas has resisted me. But you my dear," she'd winked at Katherine. "My son can deny you nothing."
Remembering what she'd lost with Nicholas was painful. Katherine pushed those thoughts away.
What of Lady Margaret? If she still resided here with Nicholas, Katherine had not seen her. Probably, that was for the best. What would Nicholas' mother think at seeing Katherine now married to her son? Considering that Katherine had renounced him, she doubted the lady would be pleased.
Bessie knocked once at de Lauren's bedchamber.
"Enter."
Bessie opened the door. Katherine saw that the room was unchanged. De Lauren turned from the window. His expression was austere. Nothing had changed here, but her welcome.
Still, she was not a serf to quail at the lord's lowered brows. She met de Lauren's gaze. "You wish to speak with me, my lord?"
"It is not conversation that I would have from you."
The door closed quietly behind her.
"I will allow you no cause to seek an annulment once I have secured Stanfield," de Lauren said.
Annulment. She hadn't thought of it. But it would be his means of ridding himself of her when he learned Stanfield would not be his.
"Apparently you refused a bath and clean garments. If you believed by not bathing, you would delay this moment, be assured your appearance will not alter my course. We will consummate this union now."
The coldness in his eyes made her stomach drop.
"The bed would be more comfortable," he said. "But the wall at your back will suffice. It matters naught to me."
Again he reminded how he despised her. If he chose to, he could vent that hatred in the vilest of ways now . . .
Would he? Had he changed so much? She was afraid of finding out that he had.
If he persisted, he would soon know that she'd recently given birth. She'd wanted to wait until after the keep was retaken to tell him about her twins. While she could not tell him of her son until then, she would now have to explain about her daughter.
De Lauren crossed the room slowly and stood before her. His size and strength, that she'd once reveled in, now made her feel outmatched.
"My lord. I would have you know that yesterday I gave birth to a stillborn babe."
His eyes lowered and she guessed he was taking in her narrow waistline. She'd had a difficult pregnancy and had gained little weight. Now that she'd delivered, the only fullness she'd retained was in her breasts.
De Lauren looked into her eyes. "What is this? A ploy to forestall me?"
"Nay, my lord. I had to flee and leave my babe unburied. She is yet in her cradle at Stanfield."
"I will have proof of a birth long before we reach Stanfield."
They were standing so close now, their bodies brushed. She hadn't fed her babe since yesterday, and at this slight contact, milk spurted from her breasts.
De Lauren drew back slightly. The milk had formed patches on her gown.
"Not a ploy then," he said. "But another truth withheld until you were forced to reveal it."
No doubt he referred to her involvement with William, which she'd confessed to when her wedding to de Lauren was almost upon them and she'd had no choice. If she told de Lauren the truth of her first marriage . . . Tears pricked her eyes. She fought them back. Sweet Mary! Now wasn't the time. She could not be goaded into revealing more than she had.
"To touch you now may impede your healing," de Lauren said. "I will not risk my heirs. You may exhale, my lady. You have been granted a reprieve."
* * *
De Lauren called a halt in the woods beyond Stanfield. A chill breeze fluttered the hem of the mantle Bessie had draped over Katherine's peasant's garments before she'd left the keep. She recognized the mantle as one of de Lauren's. Black and gold, it bore his family crest on the back and on the thick broach that secured the cloak at her shoulder. The cloak covered her chin and fell beyond her toes, but more than the warmth it provided, she was grateful that her people would see her draped in de Lauren's colors, and know they were now under his protection.
Dawn was still a time away. The castle was a big, black shape in the scant light from a quarter moon. No sentries patrolled. No torches blazed. Katherine stood on her mount's stirrups, peering into the distance. There was an eerie quiet about the keep and it chilled her.
"Stephen. Hugh," de Lauren called out.
He led his men out from the cover of trees. Katherine watched them ride onto open ground. They were quickly swallowed up by the darkness. Soon after, she could no longer hear the horses' hooves pounding the dry earth. Her heart beat harder. Surely, de Lauren would not enter the keep with just two men?
Before long, she heard the horses returning, then de Lauren rode into view. Some of the tension left her body. What had he seen at Stanfield? Katherine pressed her heels lightly into the horse's flanks, urging the animal to close the distance to de Lauren. The horse was pulled back by the hand that shot out of the near-darkness and seized the reins.
"Nay, my lady," the knight mounted beside her said. "We will await Lord de Lauren here."
The knight was named Marcus. Armored as he was, she saw little of his face, but in the bright day, she'd seen his eyes were a clear green. He'd ridden by her side since they'd left de Lauren's keep. When they'd stopped to water the horses, Marcus had followed her on her brief walk to stretch her legs. She believed he was as much her jailer as her protector.
De Lauren stopped his horse in front of hers. In the filtered light she could make out his features. "My lord," she asked. "How fares Stanfield?"
"It is as quiet as a tomb," de Lauren said.
"Mayhap they await us inside," Stephen said.
De Lauren eyed her. "We shall soon find out."
Before Katherine could respond, he rode past her, deeper into the woods, where his army awaited his instruction. This time, a dozen men followed him out from the trees. Stephen broke away from the group, but rode only to the end of the trees. Riders gathered behind him.
Katherine turned to Marcus. "Why do they not follow de Lauren?"
Marcus pointed to the sky. "Lord de Lauren's orders are to wait here until the clouds make their way to the moon. One half hour by our count. He will be through the passage then, and launch the attack. Sir Stephen will lead the remainder of our army through the open courtyard gate, to him."
When she'd asked de Lauren to retake Stanfield, she had not thought he would face Ranulf with only a dozen men.
"Thirty minutes now seems a very long time," Katherine said.
Marcus did not reply. Like him, she watched the clouds. When the moon was covered, Katherine looked to Stephen.
He withdrew his sword and shouted, "We ride!"
Soldiers rode swiftly by her. One knight took up a position behind her. Another blocked her front. Marcus was to her right. A fourth knight nodded to Marcus as he took up a position to her left.
And the waiting began again. Katherine clasped her hands tightly. Faith, but she was no good at waiting. How many of these men, forced into a battle that wasn't theirs, would lose their lives this day? How many at Stanfield were already dead? And all for the greed of one man.
A horse neighed. The sound came from beyond the trees ahead. Someone was entering the woods. It sounded like only one rider approached, yet Sir Marcus raised his sword and the circle of knights around her tightened.
"Marcus, 'tis Hugh!"
"Approach," Marcus called out.
Hugh broke through the trees, reining in hard. The horse reared, then settled. "We've secured the keep."
Katherine's tensed shoulders and back relaxed. "What of Stanfield?"
"I'm to take you, Lady de Lauren," Sir Hugh said.
The sun was a pink ball on the horizon, making the stone of the castle, and the five separate towers that rose above the walls, gleam. Her home looked magnificent; unchanged. The gate to the keep was open. Katherine rode between her escort into the vast courtyard. Her mount danced beneath her, sidestepping the body of a knight. Stanfield's blue and white mantle over his armor identified him as one of her guardsmen. More knights, all wearing Stanfield's colors, covered the ground. Severed limbs lay beside the bodies they'd been cut from. A slaughter was what she'd feared and exactly what she was now seeing.
Fire had reduced the wooden lean-tos, used by craftsmen, to ash. Tenant huts that had housed her people who lived and worked here no longer existed. Heart pounding she dismounted. Sweet Mary! Old and young. Men, women, and children in servant's garb. Dead. A babe lay on his back in a sea of his own blood . . .
"Katherine?"
Katherine fought the hand that gripped her chin and turned her head from the babe.
"Katherine!"
Her head was tilted back and she looked into de Lauren's eyes. "Breathe!" He shook her. Hard.
She exhaled the breath she didn't know she'd held.
"Stanfield is a large keep with many servants and tradesmen," de Lauren said. "This cannot be all of them. The rest will be watching for your return. We must set things aright."
His message was clear: her people needed her. She nodded.
De Lauren watched her a moment more, then released her. He gave instructions to her escort to accompany him, and the men left.
She reached for the cross she always wore around her neck, to kiss it, then remembered she'd given it to de Lauren's knight as proof of her identity. She closed her eyes for a moment in a silent prayer for her dead people, then crossed herself.
She looked to the castle. Her daughter still lay in her cradle. Finally, she would lay her child to rest.
In the upstairs hall, soldiers removed more dead. More castle servants. Though she knew she'd had no choice but to seek aid, Katherine felt guilt that she'd not been here to stand against Ranulf with them.
She entered her bedchamber. The destruction here of furnishings and fabric was absolute. But the destruction of things was inconsequential compared with the loss of lives.
She turned to the cradle and went still. The wood was in splinters. Her babe was gone.
Ranulf! She brushed away useless tears and ran next door to William's bedchamber. More destruction of property here. William's shredded and broken possessions crunched under her feet as she made her way to his bed. Her late husband had not been a man to be trusted and so trusted no one. Even here in his own home, he'd slept with a dagger beneath his mattress.
Feathers spilled from a vertical slice in the mattress. But when she stuck her hand between it and the wooden frame, she found the weapon.
Back in the hall, she descended the stairs quickly. No doubt de Lauren had Ranulf in one of the dungeons, chained to a wall. She tightened her grip on the dagger. He would soon reveal where he had taken her child's body.
She followed the narrow corridor to the dungeon stairs. No guards were posted. She reached up and grasped a lit torch mounted on the wall then descended. Hers was the only light in a blackness so thick it looked touchable.
She wanted to hear Ranulf's moans of agony from the darkness, but there were none, just a persistent drip of water striking stone and the scraping of rodents. She would apply her dagger and his screams would echo to the tower-once she found him.
She held the torch high at the iron gate of each dank, malodorous cell. Empty. Despite her resolve, her steps lagged, as she neared the oubliette, a deep pit with the width and breadth of a clothes trunk. She shone her light above the grate, but only lit the narrow mouth of the hole. She would not reach Ranulf if he were down there, without de Lauren's help.
She found de Lauren in the courtyard, crouched over a body. Stephen and two other knights were at de Lauren's side. He stood as Katherine reached him.
"I must see Ranulf."
De Lauren nodded to the soldiers, who turned and left. Stephen remained. De Lauren glanced at the dagger, clutched in her fist.
"If you are thinking to slay Ranulf with that, your vengeance will have to wait. He is not here. He and his men were gone when I entered the keep."
There had been no battle, which explained why the dead bore only her colors.
"He must be found. This day. Now. He has fled with my daughter's body."
"He has not," de Lauren said. "I ordered the babe buried."
Her child's body was safe. She felt shaky with relief. The dagger slid from her hand. "Where is my child being readied for burial, my lord?"
"She is now in her grave."
It took a moment for her to comprehend what he'd told her. "Nay!"
"It is done."
When he would have turned from her, Katherine clasped his forearm. "How dare you!" She slapped him. Her hand stung, but she had the satisfaction of seeing his cheek redden.
"I will allow you that," de Lauren said. "This once."
She ignored his warning. "You had no right to prevent me from preparing my child's body for burial." Her voice quavered and she no longer had the strength to hold his arm. Her hand fell to her side. "You had no right."
De Lauren held her gaze briefly, then signaled to a soldier. "Escort Lady de Lauren to her daughter's grave."
Katherine blinked tears and cleared her view of him. "I will never forget that you have done this."
Chapter Three
De Lauren watched Katherine make her way to her daughter's grave. Her shoulders were erect, but trembled. In not allowing her to prepare her child for burial he knew he'd dealt her a terrible blow.
Earlier, he'd spotted an oak, sprouting the first buds of spring. The huge tree stood alone in Stanfield's meadow. It looked like a mighty guard keeping watch over the land, he'd thought, and ordered Katherine's child buried near it.
Katherine reached the grave, he saw, and knelt before the small wooden cross, staked into the earth there. It was a private moment. One he would not intrude on. He turned away.
Stephen came up beside him. "You had no choice but to keep her child from her, Nick. It would have been cruel to allow her to see the condition Ranulf left her babe in."
An image of the little girl's decapitated body came to de Lauren and his jaw tightened. On its own that atrocity was reason enough to send Ranulf to hell.
Stephen sighed. "In so doing, though, her mind is now set against you."
"Her mind has been set against me these five years past. I will continue to survive it."
"She was not your wife, these five years past."
"You made your reservations on this marriage clear before it took place, Stephen, I have no wish to hear them repeated now."
"I will not repeat them. I will say only that though she appears to have no hand in what Ranulf has done here today, I do not trust her."
De Lauren raised an eyebrow. "Think you I do?"
Stephen shook his head slowly. "Nay, but I fear that you can be made to. I know how you cared for her. That you have cared for no other since. I hoped that would not always be the case. I would see you happy, brother."
"Happy?" de Lauren said. Aye, he'd been happy with Katherine. More fool he. "You are a romantic, Stephen. Seek out a bride who will make you happy, if you must." His jaw clenched briefly. "May you not find happiness fleeting. For me, fear not, I have Stanfield. I am the happiest man in England."
De Lauren eyed his brother. "Enough of this talk. I would have a tally of Ranulf's devastation to Stanfield. Men. Servants. Livestock. Provisions. Lord Michael, Katherine's father, had a steward he thought highly of who kept records of such. See if he yet lives and can produce these accountings for us. I would present them to the king with our current numbers when Henry questions my retaliation against Ranulf."
"Think you, after all this, our king will side with Ranulf?"
"I do not underestimate Ranulf's powers of persuasion to sway the king in his favor. Ranulf is like a chameleon, forever changing his colors to suit his needs. And do not forget, I have not been in our king's favor since Stanfield fell out of my hands and to William Norris."
"Aye, the king favored you to head a strong alliance between the mighty keeps of de Lauren and Stanfield, but it has been wrong of him to blame you for that loss."
De Lauren smiled briefly at Stephen's fierce defense of him. "Perhaps. Or perhaps Henry was right. That I should have forced the marriage then. Katherine's father had given his word and would have honored the match or warred with me and our king to prevent it. Though Lord Michael doted on his daughter, he would not have sacrificed his land and his people in a battle he would not have won. Henry would have had me as his vassal to both de Lauren and Stanfield, rather than that conniving William Katherine wed, and we would not be engaged in this battle now."
"If you had it to do over, I do not believe you would do different," Stephen said. "You would not have married Katherine if you believed she preferred another."
De Lauren grunted. "Do not be too sure."
* * *
Katherine looked at her daughter's grave, and felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. The child was buried. What was done was done. But it needn't have happened this way. She could have had a last moment with her daughter. De Lauren had made sure that moment was not to be. She would not have believed him capable of such cruelty.
She'd had no choice but to appeal to him for aid. A petition to the king would have taken days for a response. If it was not intercepted. By then Ranulf would have been firmly ensconced at Stanfield with her as his lady and her son . . . Katherine dug her nails into her palms. Her son either forever exiled or as dead as his sister.
Tears filled her eyes. But what were her son's prospects now? She'd underestimated de Lauren's hatred of her, and in so doing, she had plucked her son from the jaws of one wolf and placed him on the platter of another.
This night was to be a night of celebration. With her keep again secured, she'd planned to tell de Lauren of her son, and then make haste to reclaim her child. She glanced at the battlements, where even now a man clung to the flag pole there, unfurling the Stanfield banner. Sir Guy would be watching for that banner as his signal that Stanfield had been restored to them.
She leaned forward and kissed the wooden cross, then stood. Sir Guy would be watchful, wary of some trickery by Ranulf, but de Lauren's men in their black and gold colors were even now patrolling the grounds. Sir Guy would see that de Lauren protected Stanfield and know their plan had been successful.
He would return with her child. She had to intercept him. But she would have to get away from de Lauren to do that.
She'd been escorted to her daughter's grave, then the knight had left her alone. As she made her way back to the courtyard, no one followed her. Had de Lauren called off his guard?
Where was de Lauren? All around her knights were busy carting away the dead or seeing to chores normally performed by castle servants. One man, a tall formidable redhead, sat on a tree stump while another man prodded a thick finger to a wound on the redhead's forearm. The wound oozed yellow fluid. If not treated, she could see, the knight could lose the arm.
The infection was too advanced to be an injury sustained in the hour since de Lauren and his men had been inside Stanfield. All the more reason for the wound to be treated quickly. She'd learned how to use herbs to heal from her mother and had continued on for her, treating the sick and injured of Stanfield when her mother had died. She would treat the knight after she saw Sir Guy.
She scanned the courtyard. De Lauren was not among the men there. Her tight stomach muscles eased. She could not have stood a delay in seeking out Sir Guy.
A mound of ash replaced the stables that had stood north of the courtyard before Ranulf's invasion. No Stanfield horses were about. Whether Ranulf was a thief or had destroyed the animals in his rage was unknown.
De Lauren's knights had tethered their horses to stakes set into the ground. She found the horse she'd been given to ride among the others and mounted it.
Keeping an eye out for de Lauren, she left the courtyard. A handful of crofter's cabins in the woods had been abandoned years earlier by their owners, who'd chosen the comfort and security of living behind the fortress walls. The cabins were run down, mostly forgotten, and Sir Guy had suggested the one farthest south as a place to house her son. Katherine had agreed.
She waited in the shadow of the castle while two of de Lauren's knights rode past her. She held her breath until she'd cleared the open ground and was hidden behind a wall of trees. She rode the horse at a walk, listening to the sounds around her. No human voices. No hoofbeats. She dug her heels into the mare's flanks.
The fine animal responded and broke into a swift gallop. She made good time. Before long, she ducked low, beneath a dangling branch and rode into the small clearing where the cabin was. She reined in. Sir Guy stepped out from behind a tree. He clutched a sword in his scarred fist. He sheathed his weapon, then lifted her from the horse to the ground.
"My lady, I did not expect you," he said.
"I did not expect to be here," Katherine said. "Ranulf is gone. De Lauren is at Stanfield."
"All is well, then." Sir Guy nodded, then squinted into the trees she'd ridden out from. "You are here without escort?"
"De Lauren does not know of my babe. Nor can he." Her lips trembled and she pressed them together briefly to still them, then said, "Even though he is now my husband."
"My lady?"
"There is no time to speak of it. You must continue to see to my son. I will come to him when I can and together, old friend, we will see him home."
"Aye, my lady."
Time was passing. She didn't know how long she had before she was missed, but she could not leave without seeing her child. She lifted her skirts and ran into the cabin.
Middy met Katherine at the door and knelt at her feet.
"Praise be to God, me lady. You are safe."
Katherine clasped Middy's wrinkled hands. "As we all are."
Over the old woman's head, Katherine saw another woman, beneath the one narrow window. She sat in a wooden chair, nursing the babe. So this was the wet nurse Sir Guy had selected from Stanfield.
Katherine didn't know this plump female. She'd refused William's dictate to select a nurse to attend their child after the birth. William had wanted her free to travel with him to King Henry's court, where he sought to advance his position with the king. Her husband and his ambitions, be damned, she'd thought. She'd see to her child herself.
William had surely found his place among his fellow demons, but even from the grave, it seemed, his will prevailed. She was still unable to attend her child. It hurt now seeing her son being nursed by another. She envied the woman.
The young woman's eyes widened in unmistakable fear; she plucked the babe from her breast and lifted him to Katherine.
Katherine exhaled deeply. Her face must have betrayed her. She hadn't wanted to frighten the nurse. Ranulf was the one responsible for her separation from her son. She owed this woman her gratitude.
"Pray continue," Katherine said softly. "I would not interrupt my son's feeding."
The nurse smiled, showing overlapping front teeth. In one breath she said, "He's a good eater, he is, lady. Going to be a big lad."
Milk filmed one corner of his mouth. Katherine reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers over his soft damp skin, then kissed him. "God willing," she said.
She left the cabin, and with assistance from Sir Guy, she mounted the horse. The breeze stung her wet eyes and cheeks as she rode out of the clearing. She'd told Sir Guy that together they would find a way for her son to return to her. She had to cling to that.
She remembered the wounded knight at Stanfield and led the horse to a brook where moneywort grew. The root would draw the poison that festered in the knight's arm.
"Easy now," she whispered and nosed the horse between narrowly spaced trees. Birds soared from the branches above her. A rabbit dashed past the horse's hooves.
Katherine reined in and fitted her foot into the stirrup to dismount. She heard hoofbeats. De Lauren emerged from the trees.
How long had he followed her? Her mouth dried. To the cabin?
"You set a swift pace, my lady," de Lauren said as he halted the horse beside hers. "I was hard pressed to match it. Where are you riding to, I wonder. Or where from?"
He knew naught of the cabin. Relief left her shaky. "I have reached my destination," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"
If he was hoping to catch her in a lie, in this she'd spoken truth. She dismounted and crouched in the moist soil on the bank by the brook, where the moneywort grew.
"It appears you've developed a fondness for filth since last we kept company."
No doubt the rippling water that dulled her reflection served her well at the moment, but she said, "You may recall when we kept company the threat of becoming dirty did not deter me from replenishing my supply of medicinals."
When he could take time from his duties, Nicholas had dismissed her father's escort and accompanied her into the forest, himself, she remembered. Often, to this brook. For an instant, the breeze brushing her neck became his lips.
The sensation faded and she felt bereft.
She focused on the green moneywort and explained about the knight, then asked, "Have you sought me out for a purpose, my lord?"
"I had not sought you out at all, but glimpsed you while on patrol with my knights." De Lauren leaned on the pommel. "Had I not seen the carnage at Stanfield, I would wonder if you had traveled to this isolated spot without escort to meet Ranulf."
Katherine felt her cheeks heat with anger. The blood rush steadied her. "Forgive me, my lord, if I am not grateful that my people's suffering has convinced you I am not Ranulf's accomplice." She crushed a delicate stem in her fierce grip. "He should be en route to the king's tower for his foul deeds this day. It is near impossible to accept that he is not."
A muscle throbbed in de Lauren's jaw. "He will meet his end shortly. Do not doubt it."
"Your reputation is such that I do not believe Ranulf will challenge Stanfield once word of our marriage reaches him," Katherine said.
"Think you, I will await him? That I will ignore this attack on what are now my lands and people?"
Of course he would not, she realized. De Lauren was not respected and feared because he turned the other cheek to his enemies.
"Ranulf however, poses but one threat." De Lauren straightened in the saddle and looked into her eyes. "Apparently you have no qualms about venturing beyond the walls of the fortress unescorted. No doubt, you have been secure in the knowledge that should you be taken, your late husband would pay any price for your safe return. I would advise you to curtail your inclination to ride out alone and make use of the escort I will provide for you. You are now lady of de Lauren as well as Stanfield. There are those who would seek to bring me to my knees through you. Be forewarned, any attempt by my enemies to use you against me would fail."
Katherine stuffed the herbs she'd gathered in the pockets of her cloak, then stood and brushed mud from her hem. He'd drawn blood with those words.
She kept her head lowered until she was sure her eyes and her voice would not betray her hurt, then met his gaze. "Fear not, my lord. I know full well how highly you value me."
She gained the saddle. De Lauren inclined his head for her to precede him. They wended their way out of the dense growth enclosing the brook. The forest widened and she kicked her mount into a gallop, anxious to return to Stanfield and work on restoring her home.
The forest was alive with the promise of spring. Patches of short green stems that would be wildflowers sprouted from the yellowed ground and strained toward the sun. The day was deceptively beautiful, Katherine thought.
Two knights, wearing de Lauren's colors, met her and de Lauren on the road to the keep. They reined in. Katherine saw a man in her blue and white, slung across the back of one knight's horse. She sucked in her breath. The back of the man's skull was crushed.
"Where was he found?" de Lauren asked.
The knight whose horse bore the body said, "A league north, my lord. Not long after you left us we came upon him." He held out a wad of blood-stained parchment to de Lauren and said, "We found this clutched in his fist."
De Lauren unfolded the paper, glanced at it, and said, "It would appear we have found your messenger, my lady."
Katherine closed her eyes briefly.
De Lauren nodded to the soldiers and they led the way into the courtyard. She rode slowly by de Lauren's side, mindful of the bodies still to be removed. Blood stained the ground where others had lain.
De Lauren dismounted, tethered his horse, and went into the castle. Katherine put the sight of Robert's crushed skull from her mind. She would make a bandage from the scraps of cloth on her bedchamber floor, pummel the herb into juice to spread on the wound, and then find the red-haired knight to administer the treatment.
The ring of an anvil striking metal echoed in the distance. She passed a team of men repairing the gates to the castle, which Ranulf's soldiers had rammed into splinters.
"Aye you! Move yourself!"
Katherine knew that shout. She shielded her eyes from the sun. Livvy, the stout cook, stood pointing to a sack on the rump of one of de Lauren's packhorses. Livvy jerked her thumb at a squat lad Katherine remembered from the Stanfield stables. The boy hefted the sack on his shoulder and, staggering beneath its weight, headed toward the back of the castle where the kitchens were.
Katherine moved quickly. Livvy and the boy had survived Ranulf's attack. Were there others?
"Glad I am to see you safe, Lady Katherine," Livvy said when Katherine reached her.
"And I you, Livvy. Can you tell me of others who found safety?"
"There be ten of us, lady, what hid out in the garderobes. No one come looking for us amid that filth. Haldrake, he took charge and got us there in time." Livvy sniffed. "I ain't seen no one but from our little group until his lordship and his men come, and now yourself, lady."
"We will pray others were able to flee and will return to us shortly," Katherine said quietly.
"Lady Katherine!"
She turned at the familiar voice of her steward. On tiptoe, Haldrake stepped over a bloody patch of ground and made his way to her. As usual, Stanfield's steward was dressed as if he would at any moment be called upon to greet the king. But his fine tunic and hose were creased and dirty, and the violet plume in his cap drooped over his ear.
"My lady." Haldrake bowed low. "I am relieved to see you returned."
"Thank you, Haldrake. I have heard from Livvy that your quick wit saved our people's lives."
Haldrake lowered his gaze. "It is kind of you to remark on my small role to thwart Lord Ranulf, my lady." Haldrake bowed low again.
One of Haldrake's duties as steward was to note the comings and goings of the castle staff. "Have you any knowledge of others who've survived?"
"Not others who eluded Ranulf, my lady. But there are some who were absent from Stanfield at the time of the attack. Four kitchen maids had been out gathering berries. They saw the banner lowered and found safety in the forest. They have recently returned.
"David the woodchopper and his family are away visiting their eldest daughter, who married a lad from Wessex. They and one hunting party are expected back this night. The tanner's son and miller's daughter were engaging in a-ah-picnic at the time of Ranulf's attack." Haldrake cleared his throat behind one thin, pale hand. "The miller wishes your blessing for a marriage between his girl and the boy."
Katherine nodded absently and took a step toward him. Her eyes intent on his, she asked, "How many people in all, Haldrake?"
He shook his head slowly. "One and thirty by my count."
Katherine linked her hands so tightly they shook. Over one hundred and fifty people had been alive at Stanfield yesterday. She pressed her clasped hands to her forehead. She wasn't without blame for this massacre. It was her lack of protection of Stanfield that had enticed Ranulf. When William died, she'd put off acting on Sir Guy's advice that she petition the king for temporary enforcements until another army could be recruited. William's death had given her a freedom she'd thought lost, and she feared King Henry's solution to the problem of security at Stanfield would be to select another husband for her. She closed her eyes briefly. Her selfishness had caused this.
"I have been approached by Sir Stephen de Lauren for an accounting of Stanfield's losses," Haldrake said. "How am I to proceed, Lady Katherine?"
She lowered her hands to her sides. No doubt tales of her marriage to de Lauren were already being bandied about the keep. Her people would want to believe the rumors true. That Stanfield was again secure. They would be anticipating confirmation from her, awaiting her command of loyalty to her husband.
Her husband. She glanced at the thick ring de Lauren had taken from his finger and placed loosely on hers to seal his wedding vows. Vows made without love, she'd known, but still, as he'd spoken them, she'd hoped.
She hadn't understood then how completely he hated her. And now that she did . . .
Her neck prickled. So callously he'd buried her daughter. Given the chance, how would he use her son?
She looked up from the ring to de Lauren, who now rode out of the courtyard. Telling him of her child so he could obtain an annulment of the marriage was impossible now. They would have to remain wed. De Lauren would have to continue to believe Stanfield was his.
Until? Her throat tightened. She rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty, heavy. She'd last slept the night before her labors began. Two days had begun and ended since. Surely it was fatigue now filling her with the fear that she would not find a way to bring her son home.
For now, she would make sure she had a home for her son to return to. Without de Lauren, Stanfield would again be open to attack. She would not make the same mistake she'd made when William died, and leave Stanfield vulnerable. She needed to rebuild Stanfield's defenses. That would take time and Sir Guy's help. But she would see it done.
Haldrake stood waiting for her to tell him whether or not to provide Stephen with a tally of Stanfield's losses.
"Provide the numbers Sir Stephen requested," Katherine said. "Following the evening meal, I will announce that Stanfield has a new lord."
Chapter Four
Katherine spotted the red-haired knight in a row of other men, digging graves in Stanfield's cemetery, a flat section of land south of the keep. Ten days earlier, she'd stood and watched while William's body had been laid to rest in the tomb in Stanfield's chapel reserved for Stanfield lords.
It was an obscenity to her that William's remains had been placed there. He had been a man without honor in life. He deserved none in death.
In his last battle, she knew, he'd warred on a lord he'd been allied with. William had abandoned that alliance for one with a more powerful lord. Another ruthless act in five years of the same.
He hadn't confided the identity of this lord he favored to her, but since the defeat, she'd wondered where that lord had been when the battle had turned against William.
She'd have liked nothing better than to give the command for him to be interred with criminals who'd died out of the church's favor. That dishonor would have stripped him of the status he'd achieved-status he'd craved as much as breath. There would have been justice in that, she thought.
But there'd been their unborn child to consider. The one right thing to come from a union so wrong. In the end, she'd put her wants aside. She could not hurt the child by dishonoring its father.
She put thoughts of William from her mind and focused on her reason for being at the cemetery. She made her way to the red-haired knight. His thick curls were matted to his forehead. He lowered the shovel he held shoulder-high and bowed, "Lady Katherine."
"I noticed that your arm is injured," she said. "I am accounted a good healer. I would treat your wound, if you will allow me."
His gaze lowered to the stained cloth that covered his arm from wrist to elbow. "I would be grateful."
She turned and walked away, leaving him to follow her. Ranulf's invasion had left her without pestle and mortar, among other equipment. She crouched and selected two flat rocks from a patch of recently overturned soil. They would serve to ground the moneywort.
In the kitchens behind the keep, Livvy and two young girls kneaded dough. Steam rose from a pot over the hearth. Katherine peered into the pot.
"I have need of a portion of this boiled water, Livvy," Katherine said. "And a deep bowl."
Livvy stepped back from the long table, centered in the room. "I got a bowl near deep enough to hold the Thames. I'll fetch it."
A few minutes later, Katherine had water, a scoop, and two clean cloths. Smoke from the hearth made the kitchens hazy. She wouldn't risk overlooking any infection. Better to treat the knight outside in the bright sunlight.
Before she left the kitchen, she placed a knife in the flames beneath the pot.
She led the knight out through the portal they'd just entered, to the coarse stone table outside, used to prepare meals when the kitchen heat became oppressive.
She unwound the dirty bandage from the knight's arm. She doused the rocks with some of the hot water, then placed a moneywort root atop one rock and ground it with the other rock. The juice in the stem mixed with the root forming a paste.
"We need this cloth cut into strips for bandages," Katherine said.
While the knight applied his dagger to one cloth, Katherine plunged the other into the steaming water. She removed it with the scoop, waved the rag a few times to cool it, then placed it on the wound to loosen the infected crusts.
"Where did you learn your healing, my lady?"
"At my mother's knee," Katherine said as she cleaned the wound.
"I confess I am grateful to your mother, who has spared me further ministrations from Sir Victor."
"Sir Victor, I take it, is the knight who administered this treatment?"
"Aye. As a physician he leaves much to be desired. Lord de Lauren's physician is at de Lauren Keep at present."
"How long have you been in service to de Lauren?"
"Three summers."
"Not so long," Katherine said.
"Nay. But I feel at home. Something I had not felt in a very long time."
"You were not content in your previous position?"
"Before the conqueror's coming, my family was Saxon with lands in Northumbria. When my father was stripped of his title and holdings, he took the only course open to him and swore fealty to Duke William. My father hadn't the stomach to war on his neighbors, but had no choice if he would not have his family reduced to beggars. Because of him, I was able to gain my knighthood regardless of my loss of nobility and am able to earn my way in the world."
It was a familiar story. Noble families, generations old, suddenly forced to swear fealty to the enemy to survive.
"I believe we've cleaned all the infection," Katherine said. "I will return in a moment."
She retrieved the knife from the hearth in the kitchen and rejoined the knight. Her teeth gritted, she laid his arm flat on the table and ran the tip of the blade down the length of the cut, searing the skin.
The stench of scorched flesh rose in the air. The knight stiffened. His arm shook. She took another root from her pocket, used it to scoop up the paste on the rock, and smeared it on his burned flesh. The knight released a breath. The root also soothed pain, she knew. She glanced up, into his eyes.
"You have the touch of an angel, my lady." His face had paled, but he spoke with a smile that rose higher on one side. "Were you not the lady of my liege-lord, I would spirit you away and make you my own."
Katherine returned his smile and reached for the cloth strips. "What, sir, no lady to call your own?"
"Alas, nay. But I am ever hopeful."
"As no doubt are the ladies," Katherine said.
He lowered his gaze from hers, but his smile remained. "You are too kind."
His humility was feigned. No doubt this man knew his appeal. Katherine laughed.
"Once the wound is bandaged, you must keep it dry," she said. "In two days, we will remove the cloth and see how the wound fares."
The knight stopped smiling, and bowed over her hand. "My thanks. A one-armed knight would be disadvantaged." He kissed her fingertips lightly. "I am called Simon, my lady. At your service."
* * *
"If it be all right, lady, I'll light a torch."
Katherine realized she'd been squinting at the lute she held, marveling over the miracle that the instrument had not been crushed beneath the boot heels of Ranulf's army. The room was now dim. She looked to the window. A sliver of red sun glowed like fire above the horizon. A shadow crept along the floor.
"We've done all we can for this day, Elspeth," Katherine said as she hung the lute back in place, on the wall in this guest bedchamber. "I imagine Livvy is becoming quite frantic over the serving of this evening's meal. I'll light the tapers. Carry a message to her that I will be down shortly."
"Aye, lady."
"And have water sent up for a bath."
Elspeth walked to the open door, but stopped on the threshold, and turned to Katherine. "Will you be wanting me to come back, lady? Since Middy's not here."
When Katherine had outgrown the need of a nursemaid, Middy had stepped into the role of lady's maid. Part of the role, Katherine remembered. Middy had no fashion sense and little talent for styling hair. Katherine had undertaken those tasks herself.
Katherine's pregnancy promised to liberate Middy from that chore. The old woman had been elated at the prospect of caring for another generation of Stanfield babes.
"Lady Katherine?"
Katherine nodded. "Aye, Elspeth. I will have need of your help."
A short time later, Katherine waved Elspeth back. "Enough."
Katherine felt a breeze on her now-bare neck and patted her skin. Elspeth had wound Katherine's hair into an elaborate coil. It felt wonderful to be free of the weight of her hair on her back.
"My lady, you look beautiful."
Katherine smoothed her palms down the front of the kirtle she wore, a sapphire blue she'd put into storage when her pregnancy advanced. She'd had the trunk brought to her chamber when she realized Ranulf had left her nothing in the trunks in her room that was wearable.
Despite Elspeth's best efforts, the linen remained creased in places. Beautiful? Hardly. But she was finally clean.
Katherine left Elspeth and went to the great hall. De Lauren's men lounged against walls, or sat at the long trestle tables, goblet in hand. She could hear the buzz of conversation.
Her own people rushed about de Lauren's men, placing goblets, trenchers, and jugs on the tables. Once de Lauren arrived, the meal could begin. And once over, she would announce her marriage.
This marriage would ensure her son had a home to return to. She'd had the right of it earlier, when she'd decided not to pursue ending her marriage at this time. Without de Lauren, Stanfield would again be open to attack. She would not make the same mistake she'd made when William died and leave Stanfield vulnerable. She needed de Lauren until she could rebuild Stanfield's defenses.
Katherine spotted de Lauren's thick-necked young squire. The lad, she'd noticed, spent his day shadowing his lord. Rare that he wasn't trailing after de Lauren. The boy would be sure to know de Lauren's whereabouts, though. Katherine hailed him and posed the question.
"Lord de Lauren is on the battlements with Sir Stephen," the squire said. "Seeing to the night watch. If there's naught else, lady, Lord de Lauren bade me deliver a message to Sir Hugh."
The boy took a step back, clearly torn between good manners and his eagerness to fulfill his duty. "There is naught else," Katherine said.
She left the hall to go to de Lauren. Some daylight remained. No torch was needed to light her path on the staircase leading to and from the battlements. At its widest, ten men could station themselves abreast, forming a wall against soldiers who would attempt to breach the battlements and take out Stanfield's archers. As she climbed higher, the passage narrowed until no more than two could fit. A defensive measure in case the stairwell was breached, she remembered Father telling her.
She'd first learned of castle defense and management from his bedtime stories, she thought with a smile. He had not intended those stories to be lessons, she knew. He'd talked of things he knew about to forge a relationship with her.
But Mother had died in childbirth during Katherine's twelfth year, and the son and Stanfield heir had died with her. Instead of remarrying to secure his line, Lord Michael had declared Stanfield would be Katherine's one day. "When the time is right," he'd said. "We will choose a man to rule your lands with you."
Father had been delighted when Katherine had welcomed de Lauren's courtship. De Lauren's lands bordered Stanfield. An alliance would strengthen both holdings. And Lord Michael had seen proof of de Lauren's strong leadership over his people, when Nicholas had taken over for his slain father, Lord Anthony, who'd been killed in King Henry's victory at Tinchebraie. Father had known de Lauren would rule Stanfield well.
Aye, Father had wanted that match, but he hadn't forced it. In a time when fathers bartered daughters for wealth and power, he'd wanted her happiness above all else.
And she'd been happy.
Then two days before her wedding to de Lauren, she'd gone to Father in the common hall. He'd sat by the hearth, setting up the chess board for their nightly game. She'd told him she would marry William Norris.
Lord Michael glanced up from the board. "What is this?"
She repeated herself. "I would marry William Norris, Father."
"Has de Lauren done aught to turn you against him?"
"Nay." She shook her head. "Nay."
"Then we will have no more talk of a marriage to Norris. Bridal apprehension, I'm told, is not unusual." Her father smiled. "While we play, I will enlighten you on the turmoil de Lauren is doubtless experiencing." He winked at her. "I know what of I speak."
Tears filled her eyes. She closed them and a moment later felt Father's calloused fingers brush her wet cheek. "Sweeting. Tell me what has distressed you."
Father would have run William through with his sword that very night if she'd told him. William's death, though, would not have enabled her to marry de Lauren. If it had, she believed she would have killed William herself.
She'd lied. Told Father she'd misjudged her feelings for Nicholas, that William was her heart's choice.
They had their first true quarrel.
"Do you not wonder why I dismissed Norris from my service? He is neither loyal to lord nor king, only to himself. His landless state consumes him. Can you not see he seeks an heiress, not a wife he will cherish? He will take no joy or pride in you, fearing you will overshadow him. As his wife, you will walk behind him, rather than at his side." Father slammed his fist onto the chess board, scattering the pieces. "I will not hand you over to such a man!"
She'd insisted and a fortnight later, in Stanfield's chapel, Father had placed her cold hand in William's.
She reached the battlements now. She blinked back tears and left the stairwell.
De Lauren stood pointing to a turret and speaking with Stephen. They were alone on this side of the battlement.
Her hair was still damp from her bath and she wore no cloak. Goose bumps sprang on her arms. She rubbed them and moved closer to the high battlement wall. She now walked in shade, but the wall cut the wind, and she felt warmer.
She reached a corner that blocked her view of de Lauren and Stephen. They were a short distance beyond the corner. She heard Stephen.
". . . fortress is on a ridge. We will need to approach carefully to avoid being spotted by Ranulf's tower watch," Stephen said.
Katherine, about to step into the open, stopped.
"Marcus, Simon, and three others will accompany me," de Lauren said. "We will remove the patrol and gain entrance from the front, then open the gates for the bulk of our army. Hugh and the remainder of our men will scale the castle walls from the rear. You will remain here, Stephen."
"Leave Hugh to see to Stanfield. I will ride with you," Stephen said.
"Nay. You will protect this holding. Ranulf may be awaiting news that Katherine has returned, then attack again. It is doubtful word of the marriage has spread beyond our two keeps this soon. Ranulf left Stanfield defenseless. It is likely he still expects it to be so."
"Aye, if Ranulf doesn't know of your interest here," Stephen said. "He may return."
"I will send to de Lauren Keep for men to accompany me. Those who rode with us here will remain with you," de Lauren said. "Ranulf will not breach Stanfield a second time."
Katherine shuddered, but her fear wasn't for her home. She'd trusted de Lauren to retake her holding, and trusted him now to defend it. He was leaving a sizeable army to do that when he marched on Ranulf's fortress. He'd left men to protect de Lauren Keep as well. Ranulf's army would be at full strength, while de Lauren's forces would be divided. She was afraid for him.
"I do not like this," Stephen said. "I do not like you facing Ranulf without me at your back."
"You are needed here, Stephen."
A silence ensued, then Stephen said, his words clipped, "Aye, lord."
The wind shifted. Katherine shivered and hugged herself.
"We will march on Ranulf in two days," de Lauren said.
"Two days," Stephen repeated.
Katherine closed her eyes briefly. "Oh!" She screamed as she was yanked out from behind the corner by de Lauren. He'd moved with the stealth of a cat. She hadn't heard his approach.
She tugged her hand to free it, but he held firm, and stood looming over her. "Join us, my lady spy," he said softly.
His quiet tone alarmed her more than a shout. She knew him, knew the softer he spoke, the greater his anger. But she was no spy. At least, not the way she believed he meant it. She'd been eavesdropping. She flushed with embarrassment over that. But that was the extent of her crime.
"I am no spy. I sought you out so we may serve the evening meal. I overheard your words with Stephen. That is all."
He watched her in silence, his eyes intent on hers. She blinked quickly, tugged her hand again, but de Lauren did not release her.
"I am guilty of eavesdropping." She sounded breathless, and forced some strength into her voice. "Nothing more."
His gaze stayed fixed on her. She felt like a butterfly pinned to a board, but kept her eyes on his. Finally, he relaxed his grip, holding her hand loosely between his fingers. She slid it out.
"Take great care, Katherine," he said. "That you do not push us both to a point of no return."
Back in the hall, Katherine led de Lauren to the lord's table, on a dais, overlooking the common room. She signaled to a serving girl to relay the message to Livvy that the meal could commence, then took her place to de Lauren's right.
De Lauren's squire went to stand at the wall, behind de Lauren. When de Lauren reached for his goblet, the boy sprang forward to fill the cup with wine. As an afterthought, it looked to Katherine, the lad tilted the jug over her goblet.
"Lady Katherine cannot abide grapes," de Lauren said. "Fill her cup with water, Anson, then find your meal."
De Lauren had surprised her with that remark. Katherine didn't think he'd remember that grapes made her vomit.
Stephen took a seat to de Lauren's left as a serving girl placed a platter of meat pies and vegetables on the table. Despite de Lauren's ample provisions, Katherine had ordered a simple meal, served cold. Gerald, the flutist, had been found hiding in the well, but there would be no music. Stanfield would pass this night in mourning.
She and de Lauren shared a trencher. Katherine eyed the pie he sliced for them with distaste. She couldn't fit a bite into her stomach. It felt weighed down by rocks since her encounter with de Lauren on the battlements. She'd made no sound, she thought, but he'd detected her presence. He was now more suspicious of her.
De Lauren ate, for the most part, in silence, nodding occasionally to Stephen. He glanced from her to her untouched food, but made no comment. He ended his meal a few minutes later. It was time. She stood.
She didn't need to call for attention. She saw John the tanner tap David the woodchopper on his shoulder, then point to the dais. Word spread quickly among the gathering after that.
There'd been an air of anticipation among her people since she'd escorted de Lauren to the lord's table. They watched her now in silence, eyes wide. She felt de Lauren's gaze on her as well.
"Yesterday," she said, "during Lord Ranulf's invasion, I sought aid from Lord de Lauren. That is how Stanfield came to be under his protection. While at de Lauren Keep, his lordship and I were wed."
* * *
De Lauren listened as Katherine's people obeyed her command and pledged themselves to him. Many accompanied their oaths with horrific tales of Ranulf's brutality.
"His lordship be looking for you, Lady Katherine," John Tanner said. "He were sure someone knew where you'd hid and that you'd be given up." John smoothed back the few hairs that remained on his head. His protuberant eyes bulged further. "No one here would give you up to Ranulf, my lady. I be thinking Lord Ranulf, he figured that much out for hisself and lost his head."
Gerald, the flutist, cleared his throat. "I couldn't see nothing, hidden as I be in the well, but I could hear. Screaming and begging as the soldiers talked of sawing off limbs and poking out eyes, then went and done it." Gerald choked then cleared his throat again. "T'were sounds I ain't never going to forget."
"Lord Ranulf, he ordered the land salted so's nothing would grow," Livvy said. Her hands were clasped at her ample belly, so tight the knuckles protruded. "He called for the salt but then yelled, 'nay.' Said he wouldn't salt land that would soon be his."
A short while later, when the last of Stanfield's people had sworn fealty to him, de Lauren refilled his wine goblet and climbed the stairs to the battlements. He nodded to several of his guardsmen as he made his way to a spot by the wall where he would be alone.
Stars lit the sky. Moonlight bathed the land in a soft glow that hid bloodstains, ash, and pits dug into the earth from the hooves of Ranulf's charging destriers. He couldn't see the devastation, but it was there just the same. De Lauren's grip on the goblet tightened. While he still breathed, Ranulf would not have Stanfield.
De Lauren heard footsteps and turned. Stephen came up beside him and braced his palms on the stone wall.
"I thought I would find you here," Stephen said.
"Predictable am I?"
Stephen shrugged. "On occasion to a brother who knows you well." Stephen inhaled deeply. "Ah, fresh air. 'Tis welcome to clear the stench of the day. I have found myself a willing wench and will soon be abed."
De Lauren smiled. "I will not expect you at first meal, then."
Stephen laughed. "No doubt there is another female about, eager to please the lord of the keep."
"Mayhap," de Lauren said. "But I will not make her acquaintance this night."
"Will you seek out your wife?"
De Lauren eyed Stephen and said quietly. "You overstep, brother."
"I cannot apologize for it," Stephen said, but he flushed. "I do not know what game Katherine plays, but I fear her traitorous heart. You would do well not to forget you caught her spying on us this very evening."
"I forget nothing."
"How did you know we were being overheard? No sound came from that corner."
Nicholas raised his cup to his lips and caught the fragrance of the wine. "From her scent," he said. "The wind shifted and carried it."
"Ah, perfume. Then you knew our spy was a woman."
De Lauren nodded. He didn't add that he knew that woman was Katherine. That she still sprinkled rose petals in her bath. And that the blend of roses and her skin's own natural fragrance gave off a scent he could never mistake.
Chapter Five
Katherine knelt beside de Lauren on the cold stone steps leading into Stanfield Keep. The sky was pink with the dawn. Morning dew made the land glisten.
Four steps above her, Father Juttan raised his arms in the sign of the cross. He was blessing the army of knights and foot soldiers about to depart for battle with Ranulf. Katherine clasped her hands tight, and added her own prayer for their safe return.
With the blessing completed, de Lauren stood. She rose with him. He turned to her. "In my absence," he said, "Stephen is in command. I have left instructions that no one is to leave the keep until my return. Not even you. I will not allow you to indulge your impulse to venture beyond the protection of the fortress when that impulse risks Stanfield."
"These are my people. I would not endanger them."
"Then we are in accord."
De Lauren turned away from her and descended the steps to his horse. Stephen joined him there. The brothers exchanged a quiet word, then clasped arms briefly. De Lauren mounted.
"God speed, my lord," Katherine murmured.
Stephen climbed the steps and stood as she did, watching de Lauren leading the knights and foot soldiers from the courtyard.
"Will he send word, Stephen?"
Eyes narrowed, Stephen turned on her. "And what word do you seek? That you have lost another husband in battle?"
"I could never want Nicholas' death."
"Unless you would gain from it. Was your plan to manipulate Nick into marriage, and add de Lauren Keep to your worth? I will remind you, my new sister, that I remain my brother's heir-title and holding-until you present him with a son. If Nick should die before that happens, you will have no more than you had before this marriage."
"I planned no marriage." She shook her head and whispered, "You know naught of what you speak."
"I know that five years ago you used Nick to ensnare William Norris, the one you favored. Now you are using him in this battle with Ranulf of Warbrook." Stephen's voice throbbed with emotion. "Were I my brother I would have left you to Ranulf. Like to like. The decision was not mine to make, however, and so here we are. Know this, Katherine, if my brother falls in this game you play with Ranulf, I vow, you will not long survive him."
He stalked by her, kicking up a breeze in his haste to be away from her. She'd made a powerful enemy in Stephen. De Lauren, she knew, was not a man to be influenced by others. But Stephen had his brother's trust and love. Both could be strong weapons against her. She could not underestimate them. Stephen would wield them well when Nicholas returned. She shivered in the slight breeze and clutched her elbows beneath her thick fur-lined cloak. When Nicholas returned . . .
* * *
De Lauren drew his horse to a stop. Eyes narrowed against the setting sun, he peered at Ranulf's keep on the rise in the distance. An additional tower was being added to the keep. That made six. Ranulf prospered. Prosperity gained, no doubt, by preying on the defenseless. As Stanfield had been.
De Lauren clenched his jaw. Not long now and he would have Ranulf at the point of his sword. Patience. Patience. He'd been telling himself that since he'd led his troops from Stanfield, forcing himself not to push the men beyond their endurance to make the day's ride to Ranulf's holding sooner. De Lauren needed his men rested. Ranulf would not go quietly to his death.
De Lauren had spent the last two nights observing Ranulf's castle defenses. From this spot in the trees beyond the keep, de Lauren found what he'd been looking for. A weakness.
Despite the glare of last night's full moon, one small section of the high curtain wall that enclosed Ranulf's castle had remained in deep shadow. De Lauren nodded in satisfaction. Tonight, two at a time, a contingent of his men would scale that wall.
De Lauren rode back through the trees to where he and his men had made camp. Though he could not see them, he knew men were positioned in the branches above him. Scouts ready to sound the alert should Ranulf's men venture this way.
In the camp, knights sat sharpening their blades, or tossing rocks between two trees in a game of skill. Anson ran to de Lauren as he drew his horse to a halt. De Lauren tossed the boy the reins and dismounted, then went to Hugh, who was leaning against a tree, watching the play. A shout rang out. Marcus slapped a few coins into Simon's palm.
"We go tonight," de Lauren said to Hugh. "We will launch our attack at dusk before the moon rises to give us away to the tower watch."
Hugh nodded and straightened from the tree. The light filtering through the branches above him bleached his thinning blonde hair near white. "It is almost dusk now. I will give the word."
Again, they made no cook fire that would reveal the presence of a campsite. De Lauren ate lightly with his men from the provisions they'd brought with them, then the knights departed to don their armor.
De Lauren donned the breastplate with the crossed swords that were his coat of arms, but declined the similarly decorated helm. He could conceal the breastplate, but not the helm. He could not risk the emblem being identified before he was ready to announce himself.
A lone owl hooted in the distance. De Lauren looked to the sky. No moon, but a scattering of stars gave off a soft light. 'Twas time.
Once he'd breached Warbrook Keep, Hugh would lead the rest of the army to the battle.
De Lauren led Marcus, Simon, and seven other mounted knights from the camp, then he and Simon separated from the others. The remaining knights also broke off in pairs. They were five groups of two altogether.
De Lauren had observed guards stationed to the north, south, west, and east of Ranulf's fortress. De Lauren's teams had each been assigned a station and would dispense with the guards there. He and Simon took up their own position in the woods.
"They come," Simon said quietly.
De Lauren peered through the dense growth at the approaching guardsmen. The two patrol guards were his and Simon's to dispatch. One rode slightly behind the other. Simon pointed to the rear guard, a burly man with a mop of curly hair, then to himself. De Lauren nodded.
The guards drew nearer. Close enough that de Lauren could hear the clip-clop of their horses moving at a walk, but not close enough to make out more than the men's muffled voices.
Ranulf's guards circled wide of the holding. From what de Lauren had observed earlier, the guards kept a distance from the trees that encroached on their route-the trees where de Lauren and Simon now waited.
The guards were as close as they would get. De Lauren nodded to Simon and the two men charged out from the trees.
De Lauren rode toward the guardsman in front. He expected the man to halt, draw his sword, and engage in battle. Instead the guardsman kicked his horse forward. De Lauren gave chase. When his horse was parallel to the other, he launched himself from the saddle, onto the other man. He struck him from his horse. The guard grunted on impact, but he too, wore a breastplate, and de Lauren felt the jolt as well.
They rolled in the dust. The man had the wide chest of a barrel and would not be pinned. He drew his dagger from his waist, aiming high. De Lauren seized the guard's thick wrist and twisted, turning the blade inward, away from himself. He used his other arm like a bar, pressing it against the guard's throat.
Their raised arms trembled. De Lauren forced the blade back, back, into the guard's neck. Blood splattered de Lauren's chin.
He wiped his face, rolled the guard's body over and took the man's cloak, draping it about his own shoulders.
Simon gained his feet as well, and did the same with the cloak of the guard he'd killed. The cloaks were the red and green of Ranulf's house and concealed de Lauren's own yellow and black.
De Lauren looked to the keep. "Ranulf awaits," he said and mounted his steed.
At the gate, de Lauren called up to the tower guard, "Open!"
The twin gates slowly swung apart. De Lauren and Simon rode between them.
Shouts rang out from the back of the holding and de Lauren knew his men had topped the curtain wall. Ranulf's castle was now under attack from the rear.
De Lauren's men, led by Hugh, swarmed into Warbrook's courtyard. Ranulf's knights drew swords and advanced on de Lauren's army to defend the keep.
De Lauren flung Ranulf's colors from his shoulders. He raised his sword and shouted, "No mercy!"
* * *
"My lord, we've searched the entire holding. Ranulf is not about."
De Lauren nodded to Marcus. Proof of his men's thoroughness was all around him. The battle had raged throughout the night. The smell of death rose from the bodies strewn on the rush-covered floors.
Not all of the bodies belonged to Ranulf's men. De Lauren's knights went about now collecting their own dead for transport back to de Lauren Keep.
De Lauren had allowed one of Ranulf's guardsmen to live. The man sat on the floor in the great hall, amid the bodies of the men he'd fought beside. A length of chain used to pen the dogs at night linked his wrist to a loop in the wall.
De Lauren stood over the man now. The guard's pale, sweating face, blanched further. "You live to deliver my message to Ranulf," de Lauren said. "Tell him de Lauren is now lord of Stanfield, wed to Lady Katherine one week past. The lady and the holding are lost to him. And tell him when he raises his head from the hole he hides in, I will lop it off."
The guard's prominent Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and he nodded quickly. Outside, de Lauren's men had assembled the castle people. The servants were old men, and women whose young children now buried their faces in their mother's skirts. De Lauren eyed the group. A sorry lot they were, with their ragged clothing hanging on near-emaciated frames. Severe punishment, indeed, for these people to be tied by law to Ranulf of Warbrook.
Ladies, probably the wives of the fallen knights by their costly attire, huddled together in the sharp wind. Clouds covered the morning sky. A storm was brewing.
Absent was the lady of the keep, whom de Lauren knew had passed away recently.
De Lauren nodded to Hugh.
"You may leave," Hugh said to the servants. "Lord de Lauren does not prey on the innocent." He turned to the ladies. "You will receive safe escort to Warbrook's closest ally, Fenwick Keep."
The servants scattered, leading the barnyard animals with them. Eight of de Lauren's knights departed with the ladies.
"We await your orders, lord," Hugh said.
"Light torches," de Lauren said.
A short while later, fire had devoured the tenant huts, lean tos, and barns. Smoke rose from the ashes.
"Finish it," de Lauren said to Hugh.
Hugh staked the de Lauren standard into the ground before the castle steps.
* * *
"My lord, we were not expecting you," Gerard of Montrose said.
Ranulf Warbrook nodded to Gerard, a lord who at thirty plus two years was Ranulf's own age. Gerard, who'd once stood tall and sturdy as an oak, like Ranulf himself, now appeared as if a breath would bring him to his knees. Disease ate away at him. Patches of his skin were routinely cut away, yet the sores returned.
Gerard appeared more gaunt than when last Ranulf had seen him. Montrose Keep was a holding Ranulf had long coveted. When Gerard passed on, Ranulf would petition Henry for control of it.
"I trust I have not come at an inopportune time?" Ranulf asked.
"Nay. Nay, Ranulf, you are always welcome."
Ranulf sauntered into Montrose's great hall, keeping pace with Gerard whose step was greatly slowed. The scent of fresh rushes was in the air. Light from the many torches mounted on the walls illuminated rich tapestries and glinted off jewel encrusted ornaments.
A fire burned in the hearth. Ranulf loosened the ties at his throat that secured his cloak. He followed Gerard to the two armchairs set across from the flames and selected the one farthest from the heat. Gerard, Ranulf noticed, took a coverlet from the back of the chair and spread it across his lap.
"So tell me, my friend," Gerard said. "What brings you my way and at this late hour?"
Of Ranulf's allies, Montrose Keep was the greatest distance. Ranulf had traveled the last four days, since his attack on Stanfield, stopping at each of the neighboring keeps looking for Katherine. These lords were Stanfield's allies. Katherine may well believe she could seek protection from one of them. Ranulf hoped that was the case, for if she put these allegiances to the test, she would find she stood alone. Not since her father had ruled Stanfield would men rally against the house of Warbrook.
Ranulf accepted the goblet a buxom serving maid offered, then lifted his gaze from her cleavage to Gerard. "I need to know if Katherine of Stanfield has been in contact with you."
Gerard reached for the steaming cup of tea the maid set on a table by his chair. "Nay. Am I to expect word from her?"
If she had not reached Montrose by now, Ranulf believed she would not come here.
She continued to elude him. Ranulf clenched his fist, then slowly uncurled his fingers. "Should she send word or arrive here-"
"We will certainly detain her," Gerard said.
Ranulf nodded. "My thanks." He drained his goblet and gained his feet.
"The hour grows late," Gerard said. "Will you and your men not spend the night?"
"As much as I would enjoy a trouncing at the chess board," Ranulf said with a smile, "I would begin the return journey to Warbrook."
"I am glad of your visit, Ranulf, however brief." Gerard glanced away, raised his hand and waved it as if embarrassed. "I have been concerned about you. Since your lady Celeste's passing."
Ranulf lowered his gaze and drew out a silence.
"Forgive me for being artless in prodding a still fresh wound," Gerard said, shaking his head.
"Naught to forgive," Ranulf said. "Now, I must be on my way." Ranulf stood. "My respects to Lady Grace."
"She will be sorry not to have seen you," Gerard said.
"Another time and soon."
Ranulf mounted his horse. He had a small contingent of men with him. He led them out through Montrose's gates, riding at a trot, until he'd cleared the hilly terrain surrounding the keep. Once on the open road, Ranulf spurred his horse into a full gallop.
Gerard had mentioned Celeste. Ranulf sneered. He had not thought of his late wife since the day he'd buried her.
Each night of the last two months of her life, he'd visited Celeste in her bedchamber. Ranulf's physician, Burton, greeted him at Celeste's door, bowing low.
"You have not allowed my lady wife to die, yet, have you Burton?" Ranulf had asked.
Sweat trickled down the temples of the stooped physician and he shook his head quickly. "Nay, my lord. She lingers."
"Excellent. Leave us." Ranulf took his place in the armchair by Celeste's bed. A branch of candles flickered on a bedside table. Ranulf could see her features, sharply outlined by deep hollows beneath her cheekbones. Her skin appeared translucent.
He'd ordered the candles lit at all times. He wanted to see Celeste clearly when he visited her. More, he wanted her to be able to look upon herself. To see the leeches gorging on her bare arms.
She lay on the massive four tester, her face as white as the coverlet on her pillow. Her once-glorious black hair hung limp.
She resembled a corpse. She would soon become one. But not yet.
Ranulf took one of Celeste's long black strands between his thumb and index finger. He leaned in close, brushing his lips against her ear. "Celeste," he whispered. "I am here, my love."
Celeste whimpered. As always of late when she heard his voice. Good. Pain and fear had not yet taken her mind.
Six years he'd been wed to her. The daughter of a baron in France, she'd come to him with a handsome dowry of gold and foreign lands, and she was one of seven children born of the same mother. The only daughter. He'd confirmed this and further investigated her lineage before offering for her. As far back as Ranulf could determine, Celeste's female ancestors had birthed well and often.
And Celeste, like the female ancestors she sprang from, was no fragile blossom. She was taller than most of the women of his acquaintance, but, while not given to fat, had the voluptuous curves and broad hips of a breeder.
His face went hot, and he yanked the hair he held. She had not bred even one son.
He stared at a leech, swelling with Celeste's blood. When their first wedding anniversary had also marked the fact that they were childless, Ranulf had demanded Burton cure Celeste of her inability to carry children. Burton had prescribed bloodletting in short bursts to cleanse Celeste's system of impurities. The treatments had done naught.
Six years later, Ranulf's nursery remained empty. Three, sometimes four, miscarriages in one year. After each aborted pregnancy, he'd instructed Burton to increase the duration of the treatments.
Her last miscarriage had been two months ago. Her final failure, he'd decided then. He'd instructed Burton to begin another course of bloodletting. And never issued the order to stay the treatment.
His French wife had deceived him with her appearance, her fertile lineage, and her tearful promises of "next time" following each failure. Duplicitous bitch. Ranulf had made sure her death was a long one.
She'd lasted longer than he'd expected. Ranulf bit back on his molars briefly. Would that she'd sustained his sons so well as she sustained herself.
He unclenched his fist and caressed Celeste's cheek. Her skin felt cold, and dry as wax.
"Congratulate me, Celeste," he said. "I am to be remarried. Katherine of Stanfield is my intended."
He would marry Katherine, joining Stanfield to Warbrook, becoming the most powerful house, second only to the king. And she would give him an army of sons.
Her fertility and her ability to carry her pregnancy to term was fact. While at court, William Norris had shared glad tidings of his impending fatherhood with Ranulf. Ranulf paid William a visit shortly after, and confirmed Katherine was gently round with child. Proof that she'd carried to full term had lain in the cradle at Stanfield.
He would not be cheated again. Katherine would fill his nursery, and enrich his holding with the addition of Stanfield, and then, she, too, would die, freeing him to take another heiress to wife.
"My lord . . ."
Had he imagined Celeste's voice? He wasn't certain she'd spoken above the drip drip of her blood striking the silver pans beneath her arms.
"My lord . . . Kill me, and have done with it, I beg of you." She tilted her head with an effort that winded her, and looked into his eyes. "If you ever had a care for me, Ranulf, grant me this mercy."
She hated the bleeding, he knew. Each time he'd ordered the treatment, she'd pleaded with him on hands and knees not to subject her to the leeches.
"Mercy, my lady? You ask for mercy. I will grant you the mercy you have shown my offspring these many years. Burton!" Ranulf shouted.
The door to the chamber slammed opened. Burton scurried in, head bowed. "My lord?"
"See that Lady Celeste is nourished, that she may live to see another sunrise."
Celeste had been dead going on four weeks now, Ranulf thought. By week's end, Warbrook would have a new lady.
Ranulf drew his horse to a stop and signaled his men to make camp for the night. They rose early, riding hard through the day and night, reaching Warbrook Keep two mornings later.
Ranulf drew his horse to a stop in Warbrook's courtyard. What was this? He gaped at the bodies and devastation to the keep, and then spotted the standard staked into the ground at the castle steps. Crossed swords. De Lauren. Ranulf clenched his fist.
Inside was more destruction-the tapestries of likenesses of Warbrook lords hung on the walls in tatters. Ranulf's eyes watered from the stench of rotting corpses that littered his hall. Among them sat one soldier, chained to the wall like a mongrel dog.
Ranulf approached the soldier, whose name he couldn't recall, and cast his long shadow upon the man. The soldier trembled.
"My-lord," the soldier stammered. "Lord de Lauren bade me give you a message."
Ranulf fixed his unwavering gaze on the man at his feet.
"De Lauren said-" The soldier's voice cracked. He swallowed then resumed speaking. "Tell Ranulf that de Lauren is now lord of Stanfield, wed to Lady Katherine one week past. The lady and the holding are lost to him. And tell him when he raises his head from the hole he hides in, I will lop it off."
Ranulf's cheeks heated with anger. He drew his sword and drove it to the hilt into the soldier's belly.
"My lord, do we ride on de Lauren?" Gavin, commander of Ranulf's guard, asked.
Ranulf's grip on his sword whitened. "Nay."
As much as it galled him to admit it, the balance of power between him and de Lauren had shifted drastically in de Lauren's favor since his marriage to Katherine. Though Ranulf had crippled Stanfield's defenses, it still had the wealth to re-arm and until that was fully accomplished, Stanfield would draw on de Lauren's significant resources. Only a fool would war on de Lauren now.
History had repeated itself. Five years earlier, Ranulf had found himself threatened by an alliance between de Lauren and Stanfield. He'd squelched the threat then. He would do no less now.
Ranulf narrowed his eyes. The answer to this wedding between de Lauren and Katherine was a funeral.
"Find Ellis," Ranulf said to Gavin. "Bring him to me."
Gavin went in search of the other knight. A few moments later, Ellis entered the hall.
"You wished to see me, my lord," Ellis said. The knight bowed slightly.
Ellis had ridden with Ranulf in search of Katherine and still wore his mail. His cheeks were red from the hard ride.
"I have an assignment for you, Ellis."
"I live to serve, my liege. Who is it you wish me to kill?"
"Nicholas de Lauren."
... continued ...
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