Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (23 page)

He glanced at her as he tightened
the straps. “These are called a vambrace,” he showed her the armor on the lower
part of his arm. “Have you never seen these before?”

She shrugged her soft white
shoulders. “My father does not wear armor,” she said. “We had two knights at
Exelby but I was never around them enough to ask them what they wore. I have
never seen a knight dress before.”

He winked at her. “Well and good
that you have not,” he muttered. “Were that the case, I would be forced to kill
someone.”

She giggled, pointing to his mail
coat. “Your mail looks very heavy.”

He nodded. “It is,” he agreed.
“In fact, it almost weighs as much as you do. It is built to withstand a great
deal.”

“I have seen you wear more pieces
of armor on your body,” she said as she watched him secure the vambrance on his
right arm. “Why do you only wear pieces of it at times and then all of it other
times?”

He looked at her as he shook his
arm to settle the vambrance in to the correct position. “When I am outside of
this fortress or any place exposed, I wear every piece of armor I own,” he
replied. “I have a breast plate, back plate, greaves, and any number of other
pieces.  But when I am inside the fortress, I dress down slightly. I am not
expecting an attack from within but one must always be prepared for the
unexpected.”

She watched him finish with the
coat and tug on his boots.  “Have you ever been badly injured?”

He looked at her, finished
dressing. “Nay,” he replied honestly. “I have been hit on more than one
occasion, but never seriously.”

Before she could ply him with
more questions, he bent over and scooped her up from the bed, covers and all,
and carried her with him to the door.  Chloë wrapped her arms around his neck,
her forehead against his cheek.

“Now,” he said softly, kissing
her forehead. “I will go downstairs and find out what the king has to say and
you will go back to sleep. The sun is just starting to appear.”

She gazed up at him, her face so
sweet in the dim light of the room. “Keir?”

“Aye, love?”

“Please…,” she faltered. “Please
come back to me when you are finished. I do not want the next time I see you to
be in the great hall with everyone else around us. I want you to return to me
before the sun rises when it is just the two of us.”

He looked at her, a faint smile
on his lips, as he leaned over and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. “You tempt
me beyond reason, lady,” he murmured. “If I return before sunrise, then we more
than likely will not make it to the great hall at all.  Your parents will come
looking for you and should they find me here, we might be in for more trouble
than we know.”

She held him around the neck as
he kissed and nuzzled her cheek. “Please,” she begged softly, closing her eyes
at his blissful attentions. “I cannot stand you away from me, not even for an
hour. I will be counting the minutes until you come back to me.”

He kissed her ear, her cheek, her
mouth. “As will I,” he murmured, gently setting her to her feet. “I will return
as soon as I know what the king would have of me.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I do.”

She smiled, seemingly satisfied.
“Go then,” she urged. “Hurry back.”

He took her hand and kissed it as
he put his fingers on the latch.  “I will.”

“Keir?”

“Aye, sweet?”

“I love you very much.”

His heart was softened by her
words, her very presence.  He cupped her face between his two enormous hands
and kissed her gently.

“I love you, too.”

With that, he opened the door,
made sure there was no one in the landing outside, before slipping out into the
dark stair well.  Chloë shut the door behind him and bolted it, missing the man
already. 

***

“This is ugly, Keir,” Coverdale
sounded exhausted. He looked exhausted, half-dressed as he met with his senior
soldiers in his lavish solar. "We have a new Welsh prince rebelling
against the king and Edward has requested support. This new prince is cunning
and powerful, and he has already sacked Caernarfon.”

Keir stared at the man, shocked. 
“Caernarfon?” he repeated incredulously. “That place is a mighty and
impenetrable bastion. That is pure madness to think the Welsh could overrun
it.”

Coverdale lifted an eyebrow,
turning for his great oak desk which held the missive sent by the king.

“I would agree with you, but
Edward would not lie,” he said pointedly. He picked up the missive again and
looked at the carefully scribed letters. “Caernarfon, Hawarden, Denbeigh and
Ruthin have also fallen under Welsh control and the English garrison commanders
killed. Edward is riding to battle again and he asks that you ride with him.”

Keir was stunned. He stood in the
center of the solar, surrounded by his brother, Lucan, and other Coverdale
knights, all of them as shocked as he was.  His mind was whirling with the news
and he held out his hand to Coverdale, who was still holding the missive.

“Did he ask for me by name?” he
asked.

“He did.

“May I read the missive, my lord?”

Byron handed it over.  Keir could
read and write, unlike most knights, and he quickly read every word of the
beautifully written missive that looked more like a piece of art than a
communiqué. It had Edward’s stamp all over it. Then he read it again, more
slowly, absorbing the contents and attempting to wrap his mind around the
words.

“Madog ap Llewellyn, cousin to
Llewellyn the Last, has declared himself the lawful Prince of Wales and has
wrought much havoc throughout northern Wales,” he muttered, his eyes riveted to
the vellum as he read it word for word. “The king has sent missives to all the
great northern lords requesting men and material to gather at Beeston Castle in
Chester. Remembering my meritorious service at the Battle of Irfon Bridge, the king
orders me to take command of the Army from the North under the Earl of
Lincoln’s supervision and move west into Wales by the first of October.”

“Are you serious?” Kurtis
repeated, his normally calm voice laced with disbelief. “You already fought a
hard-won battle against Llewellyn the Last, Keir. You ambushed the man and
defeated him. You have done your duty.”

Keir snorted ironically. “It
appears that I am ordered to do my duty again,” he said with more control than
he felt. “Madog has overrun five castles and all indications are that he is
moving for Harlech and Conwy Castles next.  When the Army of the North moves,
it will be for Harlech.”

For a moment, no one spoke.
Kurtis was shocked into silence and Keir remained fixed on the vellum. Everyone
was waiting for him to say more, but there was no more to be said.  The
contents of the missive had been revealed.

Coverdale sighed heavily, moving
for the wine. It was early in the morning to be drinking but he found he needed
it. 

“I will supply you with five
hundred men, Keir,” he said quietly, turning to look at the knight who was
still looking at the vellum. “Staring at that missive will not change the
contents.  You must ride to Chester immediately because men will be arriving
and looking for direction, including Henry de Lacy, the Earl of Lincoln. You
must be there to lead them.”

Keir stared at the vellum a
moment longer before handing it back to Coverdale. He was thinking so many
things at that moment – although it was a great honor to be called back to
service by the king, Keir wanted no part of it. He wanted to marry Chloë and return
to Pendragon to live a nice, quiet life with his new wife. He didn’t want to
return to Wales and back into the heart of the nasty fighting that had gripped
the country for so long.  He’d never heard of Madog ap Llewelyn, but he had a
feeling the man was going to be the bane of his existence from now on. 
Already, the man had disrupted his plans of a wonderful and happy life.

“Kurtis,” he said, his voice raw
and somewhat weak with resignation. “Is it possible that Northumberland has
received the call for support for Wales?”

Kurtis knew what his brother was
feeling; God help him, he knew all too well.  He, too, had served with Keir in
Wales, back when they were young and had a false sense of immortality.  Since
they had done their duty in Wales, they had happily retired to the north of
England to relatively quiet lives. Kurtis has seen action against the Scots but
it had been nothing like the vicious wars in Wales. Something about the
Welshmen was brutal and animalistic, fighting on a level rarely seen. Kurtis
didn’t relish getting back in to that situation as he nodded to his brother’s
question.

“More than likely,” he replied.
“If that is the case, he will more than likely keep me at Alnwick and send
other knights with the army.  With the Scots border being so close and
potentially volatile, he will want me with him.”

Keir turned to look at him,
silent words passing between the brothers. They both knew the stakes and Kurtis
would much rather go and fight with his brother, but the truth was that his
liege was old and set in his ways, and he depended upon Kurtis a great deal. He
would not let him go to Wales, not even to fight for the king.  Kurtis began to
feel some desperation as he gazed into his brother’s eyes.   They would be
separated and Keir would go to battle without him.

“Perhaps we should just tell
Edward that you are not to be found,” he said, grasping at the last straws of
hope. “Pembury can go in your stead.  Let Michael fight off the Welsh this
time.”

Keir opened his mouth to reply
but Coverdale cut him off. “Keir will be marrying a niece of the king,” he
reminded them. “If Edward finds out that Keir shirked a direct order, the
consequences could be critical.  I forbid you to even consider such a thing.”

Keir was much calmer than he
should have been.  His gaze lingered on his brother, on the other knights in
the room, all the while have difficulty believing that any of this was real. 
To be ordered back to Wales to quell a rebellion that was already massive and
deadly in size was not a light undertaking. It was as critical and serious as
it could possibly be, the worst news he could have imagined to hear. Perhaps it
was a big joke meant to rattle him. He simply couldn’t believe what was
happening, not now when he was finally happy again and his life was in order. 
It was God’s cruel joke. 

As Keir wrestled with his
immediate future, Coverdale watched him closely for any signs of an explosion. 
He couldn’t believe the man was taking the news so calmly but sought to
capitalize on the Keir’s seemingly numb demeanor.

“The men will be ready to leave
at dawn on the morrow,” he told Keir. “Take this day to get your affairs in
order. At daybreak tomorrow, you will ride for Chester.”

Keir turned to him. “Summon a
priest,” he said quietly. “If this is to be my last day with Chloë, then I
intend to marry her this day.”

Coverdale nodded. “I will send
for one immediately.  Is there anything else?”

Keir struggled to collect his
thoughts. “Aye,” he muttered. “Send for Pembury. I have need of him.”

“Of course.”

There wasn’t much more to say
after that. Keir has his orders, as horrible as they were, and he quit the
solar in silence, waving off Kurtis when the man tried to follow. All he could
think of was how Chloë was going to accept the news. Keir had a thousand preparations
to make before he departed Aysgarth but the only thing he could think of at the
moment was Chloë.  He wanted to hold her, to make love to her, to swear he
would return to her when the madness in Wales was over.

As he mounted the stairs to the upper
levels of the keep, he realized he was scared to death that he would not return
to her.  He couldn’t stomach the thought of not growing old with her, of not
seeing any children they might have.  He couldn’t stand the thought of going
back on his promise to her. Perhaps she would lose him, after all.

When he reached her chamber door
in the dark, shadowed hallway, he realized that his palms were sweating.  It
was a struggle to remain calm. Softly, he knocked on the door and in little
time, Chloë answered. 

Seeing her smiling face was
something of a shock, one that almost put tears in his eyes, but he fought the
extreme emotions surging in his chest and smiled in return.  He slipped into
the room and she bolted the door behind him.

“Well?” she demanded, turning to
him.  Dressed in a soft white dressing gown, she looked radiant and beautiful.
“What did the missive say?”

He continued to smile, holding
out his arms to her. “Unlatch my armor and I will tell you,” he tried to sound
as casual as he could.  “By the way, I was thinking as I was walking up the
stairs about our wedding date. We have not set one, you know.”

Successfully diverted, Chloë
nodded as she unfastened the straps on the forearm protection. “My mother is
sending out announcements today,” she said. “In fact, the riders should have
already left, as it was her intention to begin sending them out at sunrise.
Mother was preparing missives last night with the help of Coverdale’s scribe. 
There should already be several going out this morning and, I am sure, one
directly to Ingilby.”