Ruth A. Casie (9 page)

“
That was our plan but the king summoned me.
”
He nodded and flashed a tight-lipped smile at the people who walked by and congratulated him.
“
I
leave for Glen Kirk as soon as I can
,
if I have to wake the king’s guard to open the gate.
”

“
We’ll go with you.
”

He gave his brothers a penetrating stare.
Finally
,
he relaxed.
“
No
,
you both stay here and enjoy the entertainment.
But thank you for the offer.
Bryce rides with me.
”
Alex headed for the door.

“
Where are you going
,
Lord Alex?
Aren’t you staying for your wedding feast?
”
asked Edward
,
who stood by the door speaking to Howard.

“
No
,
sire.
”
He laughed as if amused.
“
I
have a long journey to be with my wife.
”

He watched Cameron sidle up and lead Barbara away.
Both were quickly lost in the crowd.

A shiver of unease crossed his back. He focused on the king’s message still on his desk. He’d been back at Glen Kirk for weeks, and he still hadn’t told Lisbeth she was his wife. He let out a loud sigh. He could wait no longer. What would he say? He paced in front of the hearth. His quick mind was blank. He should have told her when he first arrived. He saw that now.

Chapter Eight

It was a warm day for October. Lisbeth stepped out on the terrace ready to harvest the last of the berries. She planned to take advantage of the unseasonably mild weather. The hunters had brought her a brace of ducks and she wanted them served with a berry glaze. She knew the most succulent ones were on the other side of the garden wall. But all morning she had felt a compulsion to go to the lodge. Perhaps she could pick a few berries there; that’s all she needed. The mix would be perfect with the duck. If she went quickly no one would miss her. She stood still. She had the feeling that eyes bore into her back. She turned and found Bryce stepping out from the library’s terrace doors.

“Good day, Lisbeth.” He joined her in the garden.

“Bryce.” She forced a smile and gave a brief nod.

“I’ll walk with you.” He relieved her of her basket, abruptly caught her elbow, and firmly escorted her down the path. “I wanted to speak to you.”

They strolled among raised flower beds, trellises of roses and down paths of neat hedges. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves. The polished charms in the trees caught the sunlight and twinkled like fallen stars among the branches. She glanced at Bryce. The expression on his face gave nothing away.

“It’s time we called a truce.”

“A truce?” She stopped, but he gently tugged and pulled her along.

“Yes. We appear at odds with each other over something I cannot even remember. Let’s let bygones be bygones. What say you?” He gave her a polite, unemotional sideways glance.

His aloofness unsettled her. “Of course, Bryce, I don’t think anything’s wrong. We simply grew apart over the years. We just travel on different paths.”

He stopped and she glanced up at him, and for a moment saw him as the boy she grew up with and her brother’s good friend. Her brow wrinkled with the memory of her and Laura shadowing the boys when they were children.

“You’re deep in thought. It must be something serious.” He moved her along the path.

“I was thinking of Richard, and how Laura and I plagued you. We watched you train with father’s sword master and cheered for you both.” She heard the melancholy in her voice.

He escorted her to a nearby bench and sat with her. “Yes, it was all very confusing at times. You cheered as loud for me as you did for your brother. It seemed whoever made a good hit got the cheer.” They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Do you remember—” he turned to face her, “—why your father’s sword master was training us?”

“You and Richard took swords from the barracks and were practicing—at least that is what you told Father. I don’t think I ever saw him so angry. When he asked you to explain, you told him you both wanted to be great knights.”

“You know it took us a long time to forgive you.”

The shock of discovery hit her full force. “How did you know I told Father?” She brought her hand to her throat. She had had a vision the day she watched them fight. It was a vision she would have later and would prove true. She had never told anyone that she’d seen Richard die by the sword. Not then. All she knew was she had to make them stop, so she ran to her father. She closed her eyes.

“Not to worry.” He patted the hand in her lap gently. “We weren’t happy at the time. Your brother did not have nice words for you and—” he sighed, “—neither did I.” He bent his head toward her. “Not very knightly, I assure you. The sword master taught us much about the weapon, fighting and ourselves. In the long run you did us a favor.”

“Yes, you both were different after that, more grown up and more responsible.”

“You miss him. Richard, I mean.”

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.

The vision had recurred for days.
She saw her brother on the Welsh battlefield and witnessed the killing blow.
At first she thought it was a nightmare
,
but something inside her told her she saw the truth.
Panic robbed her of contentment.
Lisbeth sobbed when she told her mother.
But there was no denial
,
no disbelief.
She looked into her mother’s eyes and realized her mother already knew.
She didn’t shed a tear when the official word came from the king that Richard was dead.
She had already shed them all.

“Aye, I miss him, too,” said Bryce.

She looked at his somber profile and saw a different man. They sat in silence, each deep in thought.

“Well, I came to see Alex.” They both got up. He took her hand, brushed her knuckles with his lips, and tucked her arm in his. He set their course for the terrace.

“Thank you for your company, Bryce.”

“I’m glad we had this little talk.” He took her hand and lingered over her knuckles before he kissed them—again.

He left her in the garden. She watched him climb the terrace steps and enter the library.

* * *

“Bryce,” said Alex, as his friend came through the terrace doors.

“You must be thirsty.” An amused expression lit Bryce’s face. “Here, let me help you.” Before Alex could respond, Bryce had one of the two tankards out of his hand. Bryce was already poised to drink it.

“You said you wanted to sample any new batches to ensure it was the quality you expected.”

Bryce stopped the tankard almost at his lips. “Most definitely, I wouldn’t want you to spoil Wesley’s reputation for fine ale.”

He motioned to Bryce to sit with him. “I was meeting with my brewer, when I saw you had arrived. I wasn’t expecting you. I’m glad Lisbeth kept you entertained.”

“I thought we would take a ride to the river.” Bryce sat down in the armchair near the library table. “I’m here to tell you my men found tracks. They think they’re from the raiders. Would you like to join me and get a firsthand account?”

“Yes, I would. Cheers.” He raised his tankard. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Lisbeth picking berries on the other side of the garden fence. It was good to see her and Bryce reconciling.

“Have you told her yet?” Bryce took another pull on his ale.

Alex kept his eyes focused out the terrace door. “No.” This is not where he wanted this conversation to go. “I had the impression you were at odds with Lisbeth. You appear to have solved your differences.” If he didn’t know his friend so well, he would have missed Bryce’s momentary hesitation.

“We spoke of Richard.”

Alex’s face lit in a distant smile. “Aye, he was a great companion. His death was a surprise to everyone. I had never seen Wesley in such anguish.” He let out a deep sigh. “It took many tankards to ease his pain.”

“To Richard!” Bryce raised his tankard.

“To Richard!” Alex gave a similar salute.

Bryce drank the ale thirstily. The foam left a smear of caramel liquid on his upper lip. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. The ale finished to the last drop, he plunked the tankard onto the table. “I’ve always enjoyed Wesley’s ales. I’ve never tasted a bad batch. This isn’t quite the same.” Bryce took the tankard out of Alex’s hand and began to drink. He gave Alex a questioning look. “I may need a third to make a final decision.”

Alex stood, empty-handed and sported a wide grin. “Hold up. You’ll drain me dry.”

“I didn’t think Wesley’s ale could get any better but you’ve proved me wrong.” He took another gulp. “You may have a new business—supplying ale to the court.”

“It is good, isn’t it? I have been working with my brewer on the recipe. Well, if you’re ready?”

Bryce hesitated for a moment. He looked at the tankard and quickly drained it. “Yes, I’m ready. We can stop by your barracks and gather some of your men.”

Alex and Bryce went directly to the barracks. “Lord Alex.” The bower rose from his bench when the men walked in. His shirt was covered with down from the gray goose feathers he used to make the fletching.

“Where are Robby and the men?” asked Alex.

“They haven’t returned from patrol, m’lord.”

“Tell Robby to bring the men and meet me at the river.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

Alex nodded his gratitude and left with Bryce for the stables.

They rode from the castle down toward the river where Bryce’s men waited.

“We found two sets of tracks. Some are by the river and others leading toward the bridge. We’ll split up. My men are up ahead. I’ll take them to the bridge. You can follow the tracks by the river,” Bryce said as they slowed their horses, his troop coming into view.

“You and your men can cover more ground. You take the river. I’ll investigate the bridge and wait for Robby and the others,” said Alex.

“We can meet up later,” said Bryce. At the forest edge, Bryce and his men continued on while Alex rushed toward the cliff.

* * *

The berries Lisbeth had gathered tumbled forgotten from her hands. A tremor touched her lips while the vision slammed behind her eyes. She didn’t doubt the vision’s truth. Sometimes a bright light, warm and comforting, accompanied the vision; other times the wind howled, cold and disturbing. Today, panic clearly filled the air.

She spun around trying to pinpoint a direction and abruptly stopped. Facing south, she licked her lips nervously and tasted the sweetness of fresh water. A rushing sound burst in her ears. The river. Her head snapped east toward the river path and she ran. As she careened down the narrow trail, the outstretched branches tugged at her dress, pulled off her shawl and clawed at her face and arms. She took no notice. The cadence of her footfalls beat out a mantra,
not him
,
not him
,
not him
. She rushed on faster, mumbling enchanted words under her breath.

She exploded out of the forest and stood on the riverbank as the bridge gave way, sending the horse and rider plunging into the angry current. Swiftly the horse surfaced and headed for shore with an empty saddle. She stood on the bank, still mumbling as she scanned the river until she glimpsed a clear red aura shining deep in its middle. Her relief was momentary when the blackness began to creep in. There wasn’t much time.

Quickly she pulled off her heavy dress and, wearing only her chemise, dove into the river.
Save him
was her only thought. Down she plunged kicking hard against the current. The usually clear water, now choked with mud, churned with debris. She screamed the words in her head and made her demands. In response, the current slowed and as the mud began to settle, a lifeless hand beckoned to her from below.

Desperate to reach him, she kicked hard toward the deep river bottom. She was a strong swimmer and reached him quickly. She pulled on his arm but he didn’t budge. Something pinned him in place. She dropped his hand and pulled herself around him. The murky water made it difficult for her to see what held him. She resorted to running her hand over every inch of his body to locate what kept him captive. Her lungs burned. She needed to surface but she pressed on.

Frantically her hands felt their way along his leg until she found his foot caught in the debris. She shoved the timber away. The exertion cost her precious time and air. With one hand she grabbed his shirt collar and kicked off the bottom. With her free arm she reached for the surface. She didn’t take her eyes off him.

The higher she got, the more the water cleared. The wild current fought to get free of her restraint. She didn’t think. She focused on getting Alex out of the water.

The hand holding Alex’s collar cramped, sending spasms of pain up her arm. She did not let go. The last of her breath spent, her lungs screamed for fresh air. She forced herself not to breathe. She was certain she would break free of the water soon. Alex’s weight pulled at her. She wasn’t making any progress. If she didn’t do something quickly they would be back on the bottom. She glanced up. The light was brighter. She was close now. She held her legs together and undulated like a graceful giant fish. Once again her free arm reached hard and pulled the water out of her way. One last hard kick and she exploded into the air as if propelled from underneath. Alex floated face down next to her.

She gulped for air, exhausted. There was no time to waste. She held on to him as the current pulled them toward the rapids and the steep falls beyond. She turned him onto his back and swam for shore. She dragged the large knight onto the bank where his warhorse stood snorting and stomping. Worn out but thankful, she collapsed next to Alex gasping for air. Her hand was on his chest.

He didn’t stir. She fixed her eyes on his chest but she didn’t see any movement. She scanned his face. A small trickle of water escaped his mouth.

She rolled him on his side and pounded on his back. Nothing. She pounded again. More water trickled out of his mouth. She reached inside his wet shirt. No heartbeat.

She kept the building panic at bay.
Think
. Calmness overcame her. She rolled him onto his back and knelt above him. She placed her mouth over his and gave him her breath. She’d given her breath before, when the blacksmith’s wife gave birth and the baby didn’t breathe. That day she had tried everything but nothing worked. She wanted to move the baby’s chest, just one breath. In desperation she breathed for the child. It worked then. It had to work now.

She felt the tingle at her lips and a dizzying current raced through her. She closed her eyes and gave him another breath. Her hand pressed hard against this chest. She searched for a heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, anything to indicate he lived.

He shuddered with a shallow breath. Reassured, she felt a faint but steady beat and sank back on her heels. She observed the deadly gray pallor on his face retreat. His arms twitched as they came to life. His face contorted in a spasm as he choked to clear his lungs. He pushed himself up coughing out the last of the river sludge and sucked in large quantities of air.

Relief surged through her. She rose, retrieved her dress lying in a pool of sunlight, and quickly slipped it on. She calmed the restless warhorse with her gentle touch and whispered words, When she ventured a glance at the knight, she found herself staring into his compelling gray eyes. His gaze was riveted on her face. A fresh spasm of coughing took him, and she turned to leave.