Angie Arms - Flames series 04 (8 page)

“Of course,” Keri said, ignoring the scowl Cyrille sent to her when she took control of his horse’s head, to hold him still.

Stiffly Cyrille climbed from the saddle.  It had been a long journey for the injured man
, and she could tell by the way he moved, even before dismounting, he was in a great deal of pain.  She convinced him earlier to leave his hood off his head, so he could feel the sun on his face.  It was a rarity for him she knew, and she was glad to encourage it.  The first time she saw him, she would never have believed he would ever come to mean as much to her as he did.  She knew the story of his, injuries and how he saved her husband from the fate.  How could she not love the man, who loved his brother so much, he sacrificed himself?

She could not blame him for his reaction.  He was a man who lived alone among so many
, and she forgot he may not be as comfortable with her, as she was with him.  She did not think he desired her.  Damien once tried to give her to his brother, but he refused.  How wrong she was.  She saw his passion burning in his eye, but it had been too late.  Now all she felt was guilt for not realizing.  Of course a man such as Cyrille would not be comfortable with her leaning against him, sitting closely, when he could not touch her, or any woman.   

“What do we do now?” she whispered
, as three boys came from the direction of the stable, and took the horses away.  She immediately recognized Roland’s son, Will, who offered her a bow and a concerned smile, before leading her horse away. 

“I think it would be wise to stay here until we know what our next move will be.”

“You don’t know?”

“Of course not
, but I believe this will be the last place Garrick will look, if he was sent for you.  Tomorrow we will send the children away as planned.  Garrick has taken his army with him, so I will not ask the Countess to spare any men.  We will have to find help somewhere else.”

Keri nodded
, and walked slowly up the steps beside the limping man, a feeling of futility creeping upon her.  

Chapter 4

Garrick’s back ached as he shifted his leg from one foot to
another.  The King summoned him, and now he waited, as he waited since dawn this morning as the sun marched its way across the sky and was setting again, still Garrick waited.  The morning was cool as he and his men prepared to set sail, but the last minute summons from the King brought him here, and the ship with his army sailed without him.  Apparently that was the King’s order, while Garrick was left waiting.  He sweated throughout the humid afternoon on the dock, and now the chill was back in the air.  All he wanted to do was get the inevitable over with, so he could get food in his grumbling belly.

“Lord Garrick,” the steward said
, from the top of the gangplank.  “His majesty will see you now.”

It’s about damn time
, he thought to himself, as he made his way up to the deck of the King’s ship.

He knew why he was here
, and not with his men.  Lord Damien did not appear at the King’s summons, nor did he send his army to join Richard on his conquest to take back Normandy.  Garrick knew Damien well enough to know he would not begrudge the King his army, but Garrick knew the King well enough to know, he wanted not only Damien’s army, but Damien as well.  The King would take a hard line with Damien and insist he be here, as he insisted Garrick be here.  Damien wasn’t stupid, he knew if he did not meet the King here, he would need all his men to defend against those sent to punish him. 

The steward opened the door and motioned him inside, bowing as Garrick entered
, and then the door was shut firmly behind him.  The King sat at his dinner table, where food abounded.  The aromas would make Garrick’s mouth water if he was not so damn thirsty after waiting all day.

“Garrick,” the King said
, jovially enough, but did not rise.  “I regret I will only have your army fighting with me, and you not leading them, but I have another task for you.”  Richard picked up his wine and took a long swallow from it, before sitting the goblet back on the table. 

Garrick refused to show any sign that th
e King’s delay in seeing him caused him any discomfort.  He kept a steady gaze on the King’s face, and did not let it falter. 

“Damien refused my summons.  I have no doubt he is right this moment conspiring with John,” Richard said
, with a sneer.

Plowing
his wife was more like it, Garrick thought.  Exactly where Garrick wanted to be, at his own home, with his own wife, not here in the King’s state room tied to a dock, with his belly grumbling, and his mouth dry with thirst.  Still his gaze did not falter.

“I thought I might give him one more warning.  Threaten to send the Bastard after him
, but he knows the consequences just as you did.”  The King rose from his chair, took his wine in hand, and walked around the table to stand in front of Garrick. 

Sometimes Garrick thought the man tried to goad him.  After all
, Garrick held the title of Lord, which Richard himself bestowed upon him.  Yet Richard never stopped calling him bastard in front of his face.  No one else dared.  Garrick kept a passive face, despite the anger that was beginning to bubble inside.

“I want you to take care of Lord Damien,” Richard said
, as he took a drink, then turned away to walk to the portal, and look out at the sea.

“Am I to convince him to join your campaign?” Garrick asked
, watching the King closely.

He saw the back of Richard’s head move
, as he shook his head no.  “I already gave him his chance.  It’s just as well, I don’t trust him.”

Garrick could tell
him Damien was a much more trustworthy Lord to have in his realm than he himself.  Garrick was not so sure if John promised him a dukedom, he would not slit Richard’s throat.  There were times he wanted to do it just for the pleasure, now was no different.  Still his face did not falter.

Richard turned back around to face Garrick
, and took the two strides that brought him to stand in front of him.  “How does your lady fare?” Richard asked.

Garrick forced himself to remain impassive.  Never had Garrick imagined the control the King would have over him
, when his majesty granted his marriage to the Countess.  Now the King could just snap his fingers and have the lovely young woman’s life extinguished.  Garrick would not allow it.  Whatever the King wanted, Garrick would give it to him, to keep his family safe.

“She is doing well.”

“That is good,” Richard said, clasping his hands behind his back, and taking a couple strides in a circle in the small cabin.  “We must do what we must to keep our women safe, do we not?” the King asked, stopping to face him again.

“Indeed,” Garrick replied.  He pressed his teeth tightly together
, but was of a conscious enough mind, he left his facial muscles relaxed, and for all the King could tell, there was not a thought in his head.  

“Rid me of Damien.”

He stared at the King, and a bitter taste came to his mouth. 

“Take care of his wife too,” Richard said.  “I need her son when he gets old enough to take his properties.  But kill the rest of them, that way Kennet will have no one to give him ridiculous ideas about defying me. 

“And the sister?”

Richard snorted.  “Of course get rid of her.  What use is she to me?”

Garrick knew Richard did not require an answer to his question, so remained silent.  Thankfully the King dismissed him.  As always he refused to bow his way from the room, he did after all, provide the King with an indispensible service, so felt confident the King would not have him beheaded for such a slight in respect.  The man probably thought with Garrick’s upbringing he was not aware it was required not to turn his back on the King when leaving his presence.  Garrick was not so ignorant, he just refused.

~   ~   ~

It was the witching hour.  Warner didn’t believe for one minute there were witches about, only people like him.  The ones who preyed on the innocent, benefited from other’s pain, and whose souls were as black as the night around him.  He was at home this time of night.  This was his time to lurk about.  Only the dregs of society found their places in the early morning hours.

The Fenton Bastard was one of those.  He was fascinated by the man’s success.  He was a kindred spirit.  He recognized another man who sold his soul to the devil.  Only Warner didn’t do it for power, money, or survival, he did it for the sheer pleasure.  He didn’t care who wore the crown of England. 

He followed a distance behind the Bastard now, keeping to the shadows as he moved among the decrepit little shacks
, the lowest human forms called their homes.  This was where the Bastard would find his whore for the night.  Warner knew much about the man, and his tastes.  He knew until his wife came along, Garrick only went to the whores.  Unlike Warner, he only went to them for sex.  Warner learned long ago whores were easy targets.  If he could not find an innocent life to take, a whore did just fine, though not as satisfying, a kill was still a kill.

Garrick came to a stop in front of a doorway, perhaps at the worst looking shack of all.  The pine bough roof was missing at one corner, the rest was dried with age and should have been replaced long ago.  The walls were also dry and brittle.  It suddenly occurred to Warner a fire in such a place would take everything from these people, some even their lives, because the old, dry buildings would go up like a torch.

Garrick called out to the person inside the structure, and a young woman stepped out into the light of the low hanging moon.  She was pretty, still too young to have the lines of a lifetime of sorrow marking her face.  When Garrick was done with her, Warner would play.  It would be quite the thrill to kill the woman the Bastard just lay with.  It would complete the circle, and make them a team.

Garrick spoke to her and then followed her quickly into the structure.  It was but a short time before the Bastard stepped back out.  Warner had to admire a man who got his business done and moved on.  Warner waited in the shadows until the Bastard was out of sight
, then he moved toward the small shack.

~   ~   ~

He might be the King’s assassin but he did not want to be caught here.  Whoever found him, would likely try to kill him.  There was a time a place like this was his home.  A time so long ago, he was glad it was a memory he left far behind.  He was lucky he was born a boy with enough ambition to rise above such a horrid place.  For his older sister, there was no hope.  Born to a lowly whore, her destiny was already planned out, from which there was no escape.  Their mother sold her to her first man when she was still a child, before Garrick was even born.  His sister died several years ago, but not before passing the torch of misery to her own child.  Garrick did not even know his niece’s name, but he knew where to find her.

Garrick did not know what to expect when he laid eyes on her for the first time.  He did not expect her to be so pretty, or young.  She still had a lifetime of misery ahead.  He wanted to offer her so much, she was his only living relative.  But he never knew his sister, merely had her pointed out to him once
, that that particular whore in the shack down from his mother’s was his sister.  They never spoke, but he came to know his sister was as despicable a human being as their mother was.  He knew he was the last person who should judge such a thing, for he carried that family tradition in his own way.  The only thing he could offer his niece was money, because if she was like her mother, and her grandmother before her, he did not want her anywhere near Ryann.

She seemed kind, which made him feel guilty for not doing more when he left the rundown dwelling.  He did leave her with enough coin to make her own way in the world
, if she so chose.  She could leave her little hovel and afford a decent home, she could buy clothes, and have a chance at finding a good husband, so she would not have to turn her own child into a whore, if she were to have one.  The choice would be hers and Garrick left her, knowing he did all he could do for the woman he did not know.

He did not make it from the small dwelling
s before a woman’s voice called him from the shadows.  His first choice was to ignore her, he had no use for whores.  No matter how long he would be separated from his lovely wife, whores had no appeal for him.  Against his instincts he stopped, and turned, as the woman stepped from the shadows.

“I have something for you,” she said
, and from behind her she pulled a child.  A young girl whose blond hair glowed in the moonlight, looked up at him, and he saw her blue eyes were rimmed in red.  “She is a virgin, fit for a man of your stature.  What price will you give me for her?”

For a moment Garrick saw red.  This could be his mother standing before him, offering his sis
ter’s innocence, or even his own, for a little coin.  He wanted to kill the woman.  As quick as the thought came to his mind it left.  This was the girl’s only hope, her only chance of survival in the harsh world she was born to.  It was likely the woman before him was also sold at a tender age.  Could fault be placed at the woman’s feet for trying to survive?  Perhaps, just as much fault as could be placed at his own for the same.

He dug into his coin pouch, pulling out a small amount.  What was a small amount to him
, was a windfall for the woman.  The coin was barely in her hand before she shoved the little girl at him.  The woman then turned and hurried away.  Garrick quickly reached out and took the little girl’s hand in his, and pulled her along behind him.  If the girl’s mother had friends, she could be on her way to them to tell them of the richly dressed man in their midst.  He did not want to wait around to find out.

The girl was an inconvenience to say the least.  He had a job to do.  But there was something about the little girl, with her blond hair and blue
eyes, which made him think of his wife.  She would move hell and high water to save the child from such a horrid fate.  Perhaps, it was his chance to begin making penance for killing his friend.  The thought left a bitter taste, as he hurried to the room at the little inn. 

He spared only enough time to throw his personal items in his bag
, then dragged her back out the door, and threw her onto the back of his horse, Malik, as easily as he did the bag.  Vaulting into the saddle behind her, he turned the horse and galloped away, toward Scotts Manor. 

He rode throughout the night, stopping late the next morning to rest Malik
, and see that the girl got some food in her.  The girl’s name was Lilly.  She seemed frightened of him at first, but as he spoke with her and fed her, she seemed to relax.  He saw intelligence in her, and knew Ryann would be delighted to have this child running about underfoot.  As the girl ate her bread and cheese, Garrick could not help but let his mind wonder to his wife, waiting for him at home.  One day there would be peace, he vowed, and there would be nothing that could pull him from her side. 

They rode throughout the day, stopping at night fall to make camp.  With any luck he woul
d be at Scotts Manor by the next evening.

~   ~   ~