Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (42 page)

Kenneth’s gaze didn’t
waver. “Trust me; the lady is fine.”

Timothy ignored him,
managing to put his fingers against Toby’s neck to feel a pulse. “Her heart
feels strong enough.”

“It is,” Toby’s eyes
opened but her head didn’t move; she looked at the startled physic. “Did you
not hear Kenneth? I am fine.”

Momentary surprise was
replaced by confusion. “But…?”

“Please do not ask
questions.”

The physic stood with
his mouth gaping. “But… what will I tell Mortimer?”

Toby hissed at him.
“Tell him that you put me to bed and that I should sleep for hours. Tell him
not to disturb me, no matter what.”

“Are you going to
rest?”

“Nay.”

“Then where are you
going?”

Toby dared to lift her
head, looking at Kenneth. “I do not know. But I trust Kenneth.”

 Timothy was perplexed
but refrained from arguing. Kenneth left him standing in the entry hall as he
took Toby out into the muddy bailey. By the time they hit the ward, Toby’s head
came up again. 

“Is it safe?” she
asked.

“Not yet,” he shoved
her head back down.

They walked for
several more paces before she spoke again. “Now?”

“I believe so.”

Her head came up once
more. “Then put me down.”

He set her to her feet
and she noticed immediately that her pale surcoat was in danger of getting mud
all over it. She froze where he had set her.

“Pick me up!” she
commanded.

Dutifully, Kenneth
picked her up again and began his trek over to the stables.  Toby looked around
the ward at the remnants of the queen’s entourage; a carriage, a few men, and a
lot of horses. It was a big gathering.

“Now,” she looked at
Kenneth. “Would you care to tell me what this is all about?”

He remained silent as they entered the stable
yards.  “Can I put you down yet?   She looked at the soupy, muddy ground.
“Nay,” she told him. “You will have to carry me so my skirt will not become
soiled.  Answer my question; why did you bring me out here?”

Kenneth veered into
the stables. It was cold and dark inside, although it was dry.  It smelled strongly
of horses and hay and he set her to her feet.

“I was ordered to
bring you here,” he told her as they faced each other in the dim stable light.

She scowled at him.
“Who on earth ordered you to bring me out here?” she demanded, rubbing at her
arms.  “I am cold. The least you can do is go and get my cloak if you are going
to make me wait outside.”

“You will survive.
That dress is warm enough.”

She growled. “Go get
my cloak, I say. And bring me some warmed wine as well.  I shall catch my death
of chill out here and it will be your fault.”

“Good lord; have you
been ordering Kenneth about like that all along?”

It was a familiar
voice that didn’t register with Toby right away. Tate abruptly swung around the
corner and into the stalls, almost plowing into his wife because she was
standing so close to the door. Toby screamed at the suddenness of his
appearance, tripping over her own feet. She would have fallen had Tate not
reached out to grab her. She screamed again, startled by his grip, startled by
the face, but only for a moment; when she realized her husband was standing
before her, she threw her arms around his neck so tightly that she hit him in
the throat with her rush. 

Tate coughed a joyous
cough from his bruised Adam’s apple as he wrapped his mailed arms around Toby
tightly enough to crush her.

“My God,” Toby
couldn’t catch her breath. “My God, my God,
my God
!”

She seemed incapable
of saying anything else at the moment. Tate laughed softly, his face in her
hair, feeling tears sting his eyes. He was so emotional he could hardly control
it. He took a moment to breath in her scent; she smelled like roses. Then the
kisses started and he kissed her face furiously, listening to her gasp with
delight.

“What…,” she asked,
interrupted when he kissed her soft mouth, “are you doing here? How did you get
here?”

He didn’t want to
answer any foolish questions at the moment; he just wanted to taste her, hold
her, and convince himself that she was real. His hands moved to cup her face,
swallowing up her entire head with his enormous grip. He just stared at her,
drinking her in.

“Are you well,
sweetheart?” he asked, his voice trembling. “The missive I received from
Mortimer said that you had been injured.”

There were tears in
Toby’s eyes as she gazed back at him. “I fell off the horse and broke three
ribs,” she told him. “But I am as good as new.”

He sighed heavily, one
hand moving to touch her torso as if to convince himself that she was indeed in
one piece.  It brought him more relief than he could have imagined.

“Thank God,” he
murmured. Then he took her by the arms and looked her in the eye. “You foolish
woman; you could have been killed with what you did. What in the world
possessed you to lure those soldiers out of Harbottle?”

The tears in her eyes
spilled over. “I could not let them find you. I was terrified they were going
to kill you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead, her temple, listening to her sniffle.
“It was very brave of you but very foolish. I was so… well, it does not matter.
All that matters is that you are well. And Mortimer… he has been a respectful
to you? He has not harmed or touched you?”

She wiped at her eyes.
“Not yet,” she didn’t know why she suddenly felt so weak and frightened. “But
he has been using Kenneth to ensure my behavior. I refused to do his bidding
once and he beat Kenneth. He has not done it again so far, but he has
threatened.”

Tate tore his eyes off
her long enough to look at St. Héver; the big blond knight’s gaze was steady,
as if there was nothing amiss. But Tate knew Kenneth well enough to know that
the man would never react or complain about any personal offense against him.

“Is this true?” he
asked Kenneth, pulling Toby tightly against him once more.

Kenneth cleared his
throat softly, glancing at Toby before replying. “It was not that bad,” he
said, wanting the focus off of him. “He did, however, make a pact with your
wife shortly before your arrival. He told Lady de Lara that he would kill me if
she did not spend one night with him in the conjugal sense.”

Tate’s nostrils flared
as he looked at his wife. Toby nodded emphatically. “The queen’s arrival
interrupted his plans, thank God. But he seemed to know that you had sent her.”

“How did he know that?”
“I do not know.  But when he was told the queen was approaching, he looked at
me and said ‘Dragonblade’”.

Tate fell silent a
moment, his arms around his wife, his cheek against the top of her head. It
felt so good just to hold her again even though he knew they were not out of
danger yet.  He could not relax. After a pensive moment, he sighed heavily.

“It was Isabella’s
idea to disguise me as one of her own guard to gain access to the castle,” he
said softly.  “Stephen and Wallace are here also.”

“I know,” Kenneth replied. “I saw them both.
Where is the king?”
Tate lifted an eyebrow. “Safe,” he replied vaguely. “More importantly, there is
a ten-thousand-man army a mile to the south, awaiting my command to unleash on
Wigmore.”

Toby looked at him
with shock. “Ten thousand men?” she repeated. “Why are they here?”

Tate rubbed her arms
affectionately. “When I received Mortimer’s message, my first thought was to
raise an army bigger than anything England has ever seen. I was prepared to
raze Wigmore and destroy everything, and everyone, in my path in order to gain
you back.” He sighed, watching the fear in her eyes. “But when my fury cooled,
I knew that the one person who had the best chance of securing your release was
Isabella. She holds much power over Mortimer. So I went to see her in London.”

“That is why you did
not come for me right away?” Toby was beginning to understand.

“Exactly. As much as I
wanted to rush to Wigmore, I knew I had to lay my plans well against Mortimer.
The man is no fool.”

She gazed up at him,
feeling foolish for ever doubting him. “So what now?”

He shrugged. “Isabella
will order him to let you go.”

“It is that simple?”

“If he wants to retain
his life it is.”

“What if he does not?”

“Then I raze Wigmore
and him with it. I will destroy him.”

His voice had taken on
a deadly tone. Toby held him tightly, not wanting to let him go.  “Take me from
here now,” she begged. “Why can you not take me out this moment?”

In truth, Tate hadn’t
anticipated seeing her the moment they arrived and he surely did not anticipate
having her in his arms in the privacy of the stables. Now that he had her, he
had absolutely no intention of letting her out of his sight. He had what he
came for.

“Perhaps I can,” he
smiled warmly at her. “Perhaps it is as easy as that.”

“If you are going to
do it, you had better do it now,” Kenneth told him seriously. “Mortimer is
quite fond of your wife. Queen or no, he will be looking for her eventually. 
You will need time to get clear of this place before he realizes she is gone.”

Tate’s smoky eyes
glittered. “I will take her back to the army but then I plan to return,” he
said. “I intend to have a serious discussion with Mortimer about his abduction
of my wife.”

Toby tugged on him.
“It does not matter,” she didn’t want Tate engaging Mortimer in any manner of
conflict; not now when they were so close to freedom. “You do not need to
confront him. I am whole and sound and he has not touched me. Please, Tate; let
us leave this place and never look back.”

As he gazed into her
frightened face, he realized that his vengeance, at the moment, was the most
important thing on his mind. He realized that it had always been the most
important thing on his mind save his wife’s reclamation. He wanted to punish
Mortimer for taking Toby.  He very much wanted to make the man pay for his
sins. It wasn’t even about king or crown any longer; Mortimer had attacked him
personally and Tate would not stand for it. His pride, his family, was at
stake.

But as he held Toby in
his arms, he realized that vengeance was futile. It was a waste of his strength
and attention. He had his wife and that was all that truly mattered, but it was
difficult to fight off the lingering need for justice. He struggled to refocus
on the task of getting her out of Wigmore; his mind raced through the queen’s
escort in the ward, the strength of the men he saw upon the battlements and the
state of the main gates the last time he saw them. If they were closed, it
would make his escape far more difficult. But the last he saw, they were open.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed a horse blanket that was laying over one of the
stall partitions.

Tate swung the blanket
around Toby’s shoulders for both protection and a disguise. She stood out
brilliantly in her pale gown and he needed to make her less conspicuous. He
smiled at her when she looked puzzled by the action.

“Kenneth,” he said as
he secured the blanket around her shoulders. “Return to the hall and locate
Stephen and Wallace. Have them meet us in the bailey. We are taking Elizabetha
home.”

Kenneth nodded
shortly, feeling a tremendous sense of relief. He turned on his heel and quit
the stable, his mind focused on finding Stephen and Wallace. But just as he
exited the door, heading into the stable yard, a body was waiting for him. And
that body drove a broadsword into Kenneth’s torso.

Kenneth fell to his
knees as de Roche removed the blade, bringing it up for Tate, who was just
emerging from the stable. Toby screamed as she saw the flash of the blade a
split second before Tate pushed her out of the way. Tate jumped back as well
but not far enough; the tip of the broadsword sliced him across the collarbone
and down his chest.  It was a nasty gash but not deadly. Giving Toby a shove
back into the stables, Tate unsheathed the broadsword at his side and launched
into a full offensive against de Roche.

“So you think…,” de Roche
dodged a heavy blow and answered with one of his own, “to take your wife away
unseen? I will give you credit for a clever disguise, Dragonblade. I would not
have guessed you to come as the queen’s own guard.”

Tate thrust and
chopped skillfully at de Roche, rewarded with nicking the man on the forearm
enough to tear a good portion of the mail away. He was without his custom
broadsword because it was too recognizable; he was using young Edward’s
instead. It was a good blade, but it was not the fearsome dragon-hilted blade.
He wished fervently that he had it against an opponent as strong as de Roche.

“That was always the
trouble with you,” Tate said as he ducked a rather sloppy chop by de Roche.
“You do not think for yourself. You only do as you are told and that is why you
have never been able to outsmart me.”

De Roche was on the
defensive, backing away from Tate and nearly tripped over a stone in the muddy
earth. “That is where you are wrong,” he said, bringing his blade about. “I
found you in the stable, did I not? How fortunate for me that Mortimer ordered
me to saddle St. Héver’s charger. Had I not been occupied with the beast, I
would have never seen St. Héver bring the lady to the stables. And I would have
never seen you enter shortly after him. The right place at the right time, as
it were.”