De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (41 page)

Nicola’s expression was warm and loving as she gazed into his eyes. “You have spoken everything that is in my heart, Kenton,” she whispered. “I do not want you to leave Babylon. If I thought it would do any good, I would throw myself on the ground and refuse to allow you to pass, but I know that it would not do any good at all. More than likely, you would simply step over me and I would make a fool of myself, and as Lady le Bec, I would die before shaming you or dishonoring you. I have never been more proud of anything in my life, other than my children. You are my pride and my joy, Kenton, and I shall be expecting your return every single day that you are gone.”

He touched her cheek softly. “We have not spoken of the possibility that I may not be able to return,” he said quietly. “If that is the case, and death keeps me from you, then know that it is my wish for you to be happy and if that means remarriage, then you have my blessing. I only want what is best for you, my love. Be joyful and content in whatever life you choose if it is a life I am not a part of.”

Nicola was emotional after his speech, swallowing tears that were close to the surface. She couldn’t even entertain the possibility of his death but she knew it was ridiculous not to be aware of the potential. She was, but she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

“I should tell you something that will guarantee you will return to me,” she said, her throat tight with emotion.

He cocked his head curiously. “What is that?”

She fought off a grin. “St. John proposed marriage to me before he left for Conisbrough yesterday,” she said. “If you do not return, I am afraid I shall have to marry him.”

Kenton’s eyes narrowed. “Never,” he hissed. “I will be back, Madam. Rest assured. I will crawl out of my grave and return as a living corpse before I let you marry Brome St. John.”

Nicola laughed weepy tears. “You see?” she said. “I told you it would guarantee that you will return to me.”

He growled, pulling her into his arms, holding her so closely that he was surely crushing her, but Nicola did not complain. She was happily crushed by him, happily devoured by the only man she had ever loved, the only man she would ever love. All things in her world were well and true so long as she was with him.

When Kenton and Conor rode from the fortress a short time later, Nicola stood on the steps of the keep, waving to her husband, smiling bravely and believing that, no matter what, he would return to her. He had promised, after all, and Kenton le Bec was not in the habit of breaking his promises.

She had little doubt that the walls of Babylon would see him once again.

At least, that was her fervent wish.

May

These were not days of hope.

It was a gloomy, misty morning, one that reflected the mood of Babylon as of late. Days upon days of gloom, of sadness, and of uncertainty.

As Nicola gathered eggs in the kitchen yard and the twins played with their increasingly large lamb, she didn’t even have the energy to tell them to stay away. She simply let them do as they pleased, getting butted by the lamb and falling on their arses until Teague ended up tearing his breeches. But still, she didn’t stop them. She let it go on.

St. John had come…

Such a heavy, weighty burden his visit had been this time. The first time he’d come, about two weeks after Kenton had left, it had been to see if she had reconsidered his marriage proposal but when she told him that she had married Kenton, St. John’s entire attitude seemed to change. His shock turned to outrage and his outrage to bitterness. He tried to hide it but Nicola had clearly seen it. Embarrassed, rejected, he’d politely excused himself and had returned to Conisbrough where Nicola hoped he would stay.

But he hadn’t.

Three days ago, he’d come back with news that had traveled up from the south. It was very big news, indeed.
Warwick was killed at a place called Barnet,
he’d told her.
Warwick’s forces were scattered and defeated once and for all. His body and the bodies of his generals are in London, exhibited for all to see.
Nicola had listened with such horror that she’d nearly collapsed with it, accusing St. John of lying and ordering him to leave Babylon by screaming it at the top of her lungs.

Her screaming had brought Tab who, fearful his mother was being assaulted by a knight he’d only seen once before, grabbed the fire poker from the great hall and went after St. John with it. Brome had been chased from Babylon by a little boy with a fire poker, but Nicola knew it would not be the last she saw of him. He’d come to gloat, to tell her of Warwick’s death, knowing Kenton and his knights had more than likely been with Warwick when the man was killed.

Kenton had been with Warwick….

Nicola hadn’t slept since St. John had come with the news. Usually one to recall great detail in a conversation, Nicola could only seem to remember bits and pieces of what St. John had told her. She remembered that he’d told her of the location, a town just north of London called Barnet, where Warwick’s massive force had met with Edward’s very large army. Something had happened in it… men were confused and Warwick’s forces ended up fighting each other… Warwick had been killed in the melee. Then his forces scattered.

That had been in the middle of April, nearly a month ago, and Kenton had not yet returned. St. John intimated that perhaps he wouldn’t, that perhaps it was his body on display in London along with Warwick’s. She’d been crying since St. John’s visit even though at the moment, she was relatively calm. Still, her face was puffy and swollen, unnaturally pale. She felt dead inside, so very dead. Her sweet, noble Kenton dead and on display for all to see. It was too sickening to even think of.

How could a man like that, a man so loved, end up laid out like a slaughtered animal?

God, she was so very miserable. The tears she’d cried for days had dried up simply because there weren’t any left. All that was left now was a great hole in her chest where her heart used to be. Why did God allow her to become so happy only to rip it all away, like ripping a fingernail off and leaving nothing but excruciating pain in its wake? She didn’t know and, at the moment, she wasn’t on speaking terms with God. She had prayed for Kenton’s safety and those prayers had done little good. Perhaps she should have allowed Kenton to be taken by Edward those weeks ago because at least he might still be alive. Instead, she had schemed for Warwick to save him and now Warwick was dead.

They were all dead
. Edward had taken the throne of England, now for good. There was no one left to fight him. Henry was finished and England was now in the hands of the Yorkists. Nicola should have been happy but she found that she hardly cared. Putting Edward on the throne had cost her far too much. She simply couldn’t think any longer. With an aching head and aching heart, she collected the last of her eggs and sat down to watch the boys play with the lamb. She couldn’t even find any joy in it.

“My lady?”

Nicola turned, sluggishly, to see Raven standing a few feet away. The girl was noticeably pregnant these days, with a gently rounded belly beneath her apron, but Nicola couldn’t even become upset over it. At least she had something to remember the man she loved. Nicola wasn’t even sure she had that, although it was still fairly early to tell. Her menses were due but hadn’t come and if she did say a prayer to God, it was for that alone.

If you are going to take Kenton from me, at least give me his son….

“What is it?” Nicola answered without any enthusiasm.

Raven pointed to the inner ward beyond the kitchen yard. “Lewis wishes to speak with you, my lady,” she said. “He is waiting outside of the gate. Can I show him in?”

Nicola nodded; Lewis, one of the prisoners who had been returned from Conisbrough, was a sergeant whom Kenton had put in charge of Babylon while he was away. Camden Lewis seemed like a good man and he was very polite to Nicola, so she nodded feebly to Raven’s question. The girl scooted over to the kitchen yard gate and opened it, motioning forward the sergeant, who had been waiting there patiently. He approached Nicola with great respect and when she turned her attention to him, unenthusiastic, he bowed politely.

“Lady le Bec,” he said. “I thought to tell you… I know that the knight from Conisbrough came to tell you that Warwick was killed, but….”

Nicola turned away. “I do not wish to discuss it,” she snapped, but just as quickly realized she sounded terrible and rude. She took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Lewis, ‘tis simply that… it is a painful subject these days so if you wish to discuss it, I am not one to do it with. I am sure there are a number of other soldiers who would willingly speak with you about it.”

Lewis was shaking his head the entire time she was speaking only she couldn’t see him because her head was turned away. “My lady,” he said, rather urgently. “I came to tell you that we can see men approaching through the mist, remnants of an army bearing the colors of Warwick. They must be Sir Kenton’s men returning to Babylon.”

Nicola looked at him, stricken. She was so startled that she stumbled as she tried to stand up, dropping all of the eggs in her apron. Raven, who had been listening, began squealing with excitement as Nicola grabbed hold of Lewis before she collapsed completely. The world was rocking dangerously as she stared at the man in astonishment.

“Where are they?” she demanded.

Lewis was already moving, trying to pull her along so that he could take her to the gatehouse, but her legs wouldn’t seem to move. He called over to the boys, playing with the lamb.

“Young masters!” he bellowed. “Come and help me with your mother! She must come with me!”

Teague and Tiernan looked over to the sergeant, who was frantically waving them over. With their mother standing there, looking as if she were about to faint, they ran over and began pushing her from behind at the sergeant’s prompting. Lewis pulled while the twins pushed, and Nicola began to gain control of her legs. She started to move, slowly at first, but by the time they hit the kitchen yard gate, she was running.

“Where are they?” she demanded again.

Lewis, running alongside her, was pointing off to the east. “They are coming from that way,” he told her. “Huddersfield, more than likely. All of the big roads to the south cut through Huddersfield in this area.”

Nicola wasn’t listening anymore. She broke away from them, running to the gates of Babylon, which were just starting to open. When the gap between the gates was wide enough for her to slip through, she did, tearing down the road as fast as her shaking legs would take her.

It was cold and misty still, with the sun struggling to break through, as she raced down the rocky, muddy road. There was water everywhere; in puddles in the middle of the road or alongside the road, and she plowed through the puddles without missing a beat. She never bothered to ask how far out the army was, but if the men on the walls had sighted them, in mist no less, then they couldn’t be too far out.

Nicola ran and she ran until her chest felt like it was about to explode and then she came to a stop, but only momentarily, coughing and struggling to clear her lungs, before taking off again, but this time much more slowly. Her legs were on fire, her chest was swelling, but she had to keep going. She had to make it to the incoming army, men bearing Warwick’s colors.

They would know what happened to Kenton. Oh, God…Kenton!
Suddenly, she came to a halt, unable to run any further. Weak, dizzy, she stood in the middle of the road, in the middle of the mist. It was like a nightmare; she couldn’t run anymore but she so desperately wanted to. She had to know what happened to Kenton.

Kenton….

“Kenton!” she screamed. “
Kenton!”

There was no reply other than the birds in the trees.
Oh, God… please let him be coming home! Please let it be him!

“Kenton!” she screamed again. “Kenton, answer me!”

There was no immediate reply, simply more birds. The tears started to come then but Nicola fought them, taking staggering steps in the direction she had been running. She had to make it to the army, to discover what had become of her husband, and the tears she was trying so hard to stave off began to fall as she haltingly wiped them away.

“Kenton!” she screamed one more time, her voice breaking. “Please, Kenton! Ken -!”

“Nicolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

A bellow broke through the mist, carving through it like a great broadsword, louder and sweeter than the cries of angels. Nicola gasped when she heard her name, startled to the bone, but in the same breath, she recognized the voice.

Oh, dear God… it’s him.
It’s him!

“Kenton!” she screamed again.

She forced her legs to move although they were as weak as a newborn colt’s. She started to run again although it was more like shuffling, shuffling through the mist as Kenton’s voice came once more, plowing through the fog, echoing off the trees.

“Nicolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Nicola shrieked at the second call. “I am here!” she cried. “I am here!”

Suddenly, there were men in front of her, foot soldiers looking beaten and worn, but men who grinned when they saw her running in their direction. She was panting Kenton’s name, steady with the rhythmic falling of her feet, and suddenly more and more men were coming into view. They were all on foot but as she traveled back through the column, she could see a wagon and a couple of horses towards the rear. It was too misty for her to see who was on horseback so she simply called Kenton’s name again, looking for direction.

“Kenton!” she cried.

“Nicola!”

Suddenly, a man lurched out of the wagon, jumping out of it and landing heavily on the road. The man’s right leg was heavily wrapped and it was clear that he couldn’t walk on it for he nearly fell when he jumped out of the wagon. As Nicola ran closer, the vision of her husband’s face came into focus and at that moment, it was as if no mist or distance were between them any longer. The sun had come out and Kenton’s face was there, stronger and more beautiful than she had ever known it to be.

He was alive!

Kenton wasn’t moving but Nicola was. She ran at the man, throwing herself at him so hard that he lost his balance and toppled over onto the road. The rear half of the column came to a halt as men rushed forward to pull Kenton and Nicola out of the mud.

But Nicola wouldn’t let go of him, not for anything. She clung to him, weeping, even as men righted the pair, and even as he struggled to regain his balance, she continued to hold him as if fearful if she let go, he would disappear before her eyes. But Kenton didn’t mind. He had tears in his eyes as he held her, so tightly he could hear her spine crack.

“’Tis all right, love,” he murmured. “I have returned. I told you I would, did I not?”

Nicola was so overwhelmed she couldn’t even speak. The smell of him, the feel of him, was nearly too much to bear. After the misery she had gone through, the grief she had experienced, to have him alive in her arms was an astonishing turn of events. It took her several long moments before she could gather her wits.

“You did,” she sobbed, finally pulling back to look the man in the face. He was shaggy with beard growth, and needed a haircut, but she didn’t care. He was the most beautiful sight in the world. She ran her hands over his face just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “You swore to me that you would return and you have. But we heard that Warwick was killed! Is it true?”

Kenton simply stood there as the men around him began to move again, heading for that great bastion of Babylon not too far in the distance. But Kenton was solely focused on his wife.

“Aye,” he said quietly, kissing her twice, tremulously. “He is. Edward is upon the throne now and he is there to stay. But let us speak of it inside where it is warm and dry. I do not believe I have been warm or dry in over a month.”

So the news St. John bore had been correct. Nicola pondered the confirmation of such information as she and Kenton slowly began to walk towards Babylon, following the rest of the army. Men were pouring out of the fortress now, coming to help the others along, and there was great joy now that the remains of the army had returned. Weeks of waiting, of speculation, and of fear, had finally come to an end as the army of Kenton le Bec returned to Babylon.