Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (34 page)

“It is, my lord.”

“She is the nosy sort.  She may
bombard you with questions on Keir’s condition, but do not tell her he has gone
to battle.”

“Understood, my lord.”

Michael waved the man on. 
Spurring his charger forward, he could only hope now that he reached Keir
before the man reached Harlech.  As it was, Michael was going to be chasing the
English army through the badlands of Wales, something he was not particularly
looking forward to doing.  A lot could happen to a lone English knight with
Welsh rebels about, especially if they were out for blood.

Michael briefly considered
turning back, but given the consequences, he was willing to risk his life,
mostly because he knew that if the situation was reversed, Keir would do it for
him. There would be no question.

He pushed on.

***

Standing in Chloë’s borrowed
chamber at Aysgarth, Kurtis watched his sister-in-law calmly finish packing
whatever bags she hadn’t already packed for her return to Pendragon.  He was
agitated, angry and frustrated, a bitter combination that made him pace about. 

Kurtis was trying very hard to
think like his brother but he was beginning to second guess himself, especially
since Chloë seemed so determined to have Keir’s son returned to him.  He was
terrified he was fighting a losing battle, terrified of what Keir would do to
him when he found out.  The situation was beginning to bleed out of control.

“You should never have sent a
missive to Ingilby agreeing to his proposal you’re your provisions,” Kurtis
fumed. “The proposal was addressed to Keir, not you. It is his right to respond
to it.”

Chloë didn’t rise to his anger. 
She knew Kurtis was upset and she understood why.  But that didn’t change
facts.

 “My mother gave me permission to
send it,” she told him. “She approved of every word written. I thought we
agreed that I would make the decision for Keir.”

“You decided,” Kurtis shot back.
“I never agreed with you. I still do not.”

Chloë sighed faintly and returned
to the satchel she was securing. “I am sorry you do not understand,” she said
quietly.  “As much as I respect you, Kurtis, I must make my own decision in
this matter. I must do what I feel is best for Keir.”

Kurtis growled and turned away,
pacing the wooden floor like a caged animal.  “This is
not
what is best
for my brother,” he grumbled.  “Do you not understand anything of the art of
negotiation, Chloë? I would stake my life on the fact that Ingilby will not
kill the boy because in doing so, he loses his only bargaining tool. Did you
not think of that? What you have done is play right into his hands. You have
made a naïve mistake and committed yourself to something you had no right to
commit yourself to.”

Chloë looked at him, a flicker of
uncertainty in her eyes. “But what if he is not bluffing?” she wanted to know.
“What right do I have to play with Merritt’s life?”

“You do not even know if the boy
is Merritt!” Kurtis was starting to shout, pointing fingers at her as he spoke.
“You know nothing of these games and neither does your mother. You have behaved
stupidly!”

“Kurtis,” Cassandra admonished
softly. “You are unkind. Chloë is only trying to do what she feels is best.”

Kurtis was furious. “She had no
right to do it,” he snapped. “I told her to wait for Keir. I have even sent
Michael after him.  If your sister does not trust my judgment better than that,
judgment that Northumberland trusts implicitly I might add, then I have no idea
what I am doing here. I should be on my way home if your sister is too stubborn
and foolish to listen to sage advice.”

By this time, Chloë was tearing
up, turning back to the bags on the bed and struggling not to weep.

“I do respect your judgment,
Kurtis,” she said softly. “But I feel strongly that I cannot take the chance
that Ingilby will not do as he has threatened. Who will tell Keir that his son
was killed because we did not agree to his demands?”

“And who will tell Keir that his
betrothed has married another man?” Kurtis shot back. “You are involving
yourself in deadly games, Chloë.  What if your amazing plan of committing
yourself to St. Wilfrid does not work? What if Ingilby captures you and marries
you? Do you have any idea what that will do to my brother? He will go mad and
your foolish surrender will have been the cause of it.  Are you so perfect that
you think you know everything?”

He was shouting angrily by the
time he was finished. Chloë held her tears as long as she could but his words
were hurtful.  She was attempting to do what she felt best but Kurtis didn’t
think much of her thought processes. He was condemning her, perhaps rightfully,
perhaps cruelly, but it was condemnation nonetheless.  Distraught, she burst
into tears and fled the chamber.

Cassandra tried to grasp her
sister as the woman moved past her but Chloë slipped her grip, fleeing the
room.  Furious, Cassandra looked at her husband.

“That was a terrible thing to say
to her,” she hissed. “How could you be so cruel?”

Kurtis’ fury was doused by his
wife’s anger. Still, he maintained his firm stance. “It is true,” he said. “She
is young and naïve. She has no idea what she is doing and refuses to listen to
anyone else.”

With a growl, Cassandra bolted
from the chamber and after her sister.  Kurtis remained in the room, wondering
if he’d been too harsh, when he suddenly heard his wife scream.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Cassandra emitted no ordinary
scream; it was long and painful and full of hysteria. Kurtis was seized with
panic. Racing from Chloë’s bedchamber, he took the steep spiral stairs to the
second level far too fast.  When he was about half-way down, he could see what
had provoked his wife’s scream.

Chloë lay at the bottom of the
stairs in a heap with Cassandra hunched over her, weeping loudly.  When she
glanced up and saw her husband, she cried out to him.

“She has fallen down the stairs!”
she cried. “Call for the physic!”

Kurtis managed to race down the
remainder of the stairs, nearly falling himself in his haste, until he reached
the bottom. He ended up plummeting to his knees, nearly topping over his wife
in his urgency to get to Chloë.  The first thing he did was put his fingers on
her neck.

“She is alive,” he hissed with
relief as he felt the fast, weak pulse.  “What in the hell happened?”

Cassandra was sobbing heavily.
“She must have fallen,” she wept, then spat vicious at her husband. “Or perhaps
she threw herself down the stairs after your terrible words.  All I know is
that I have found her lying here.”

“You did not see her fall?”

“Nay,” Cassandra wept.  “Chloë,
sweetheart, can you hear me? Chloë, wake up!”

Kurtis paled, shouting to anyone
who could hear him to find help for Lady Chloë.  His heart was thumping with
fear as he gazed down at her, pale and still.  Gingerly, he reached out to roll
her on to her back to gain a better perspective of her injuries. Cassandra was
clutching at her sister, preventing him from getting a good look at her. 
Kurtis eventually had to push his wife aside so he could get a look at her
injured sister.

“Chloë?” Kurtis rubbed her soft
cheek, seeing that she already had a massive lump forming on her forehead.
“Chloë, can you hear me?”

Chloë remained still and silent,
and Kurtis’ panic began to grow by leaps and bounds. She was so pale that her
lips were nearly blue. He looked up at his wife, a sobbing mess beside him.

“Go find your mother,” he
commanded softly, swiftly. “Tell her what has happened. And for Christ’s sake,
get the physic up here. I am going to return her to her bed.”

Cassandra was quivering so badly
that she stumbled when she tried to stand up.  Kurtis could see how shaken she
was and he put a big hand on her head in an effort to console her.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he tried
to sound comforting but the truth was that he was just as frightened as she
was. “Everything will be all right. Hurry, now. Find your mother.”

Cassandra managed to get her feet
on the second try, nodding at her husband and scurrying away.  Kurtis watched
her as she descended the stairs to the entry level before hoisting Chloë up
into his arms.  She groaned softly at the movement, in pain, and Kurtis thought
she might be conscious, but she did not respond to further attempts to rouse
her.  Swiftly and steadily, Kurtis mounted the treacherous stairs for the upper
levels.

With shaking arms, Kurtis laid
her upon her bed, watching for any signs of recovery from her, but as the
minutes ticked away and Chloë remained still he began to feel some
desperation.  There wasn’t much more he could do for her until Blanche and
Cassandra appeared, followed shortly by the castle surgeon, a tall man with
long, spindly fingers.

Time was flying by yet it was
moving unbearably slow as Chloë remained unconscious. It was an odd and painful
state.  While the woman hovered anxiously bedside, the surgeon proceeded to
examine the limp and bruised form.

The anxiety mounted as Coverdale
and Anton appeared, having heard of Chloë’s accident from a frantic servant.
Soon, the room was crowded with family and friends alike, all waiting with fear
and anticipation for the surgeon’s assessment. 

It was an odd vigil, one of
uncertainty and concern. Cassandra stood with her stoic mother, weeping softly
as the surgeon went through his paces.  He lifted eyelids, checked ears, felt
along the neck and shoulders.  He listened to Chloë’s heart and pressed on her
ribs to feel for any broken bones. He inspected the bump on her head and
instructed a frightened serving woman to bring him cold water. Then he rolled
Chloë onto her side and began feeling down her spine.

As the room watched
apprehensively, the surgeon came to a halt when he felt something on her spine
that was significant enough to cause him to pause.  He ran his finger over it
again and although unconscious, Chloë emitted an unearthly moan.  The surgeon
gently rolled her on to her back again and resumed his inspection of her limbs.

“Why did she groan like that?”
Blanche wanted to know. “What is the matter?”

The surgeon was running his hands
down her thighs to feel for any broken bones. “I am not certain, my lady,” he
said in a strangely high-pitched voice. “It could be bruising and nothing
more.”

Blanche, ever stoic, seemed to
show an undue amount of emotion. “But there is something wrong?”

The surgeon nodded, meeting her
eye. “Something is out of place on her spine, I can feel it. It is causing her
great pain.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened as she
looked between her mother and the surgeon. “Her back is broken?”

As Blanche put her arm around
Cassandra’s shoulders to quiet the woman, the surgeon shook his head. “I cannot
know, my lady, for it is too soon,” he said.  “Only time will tell us what
damage there truly is.  At this moment, I am concerned with reducing the
swelling on her head and back.  As soon as the water arrives, I will make a
paste that I will apply to the areas in the hopes of reducing the swell.”

“But there are no broken bones?”
Anton spoke up, seemingly genuinely concerned.  “She is intact?”

The surgeon shook his head.
“Other than her spine, of which I am not certain, I do not feel anything, not
even on her skull.   Did anyone see her fall?”

Everyone seemed to look to
Cassandra, who shook her head. “I did not see it,” she said. “I did not even
hear it.  These walls are so thick and sound does not travel well.  All I know
is that I was descending the stairs and I saw her at the bottom.”

By this time, Kurtis was moving
to his wife, reaching out to comfort her, but Cassandra saw him coming and she
jerked away from him angrily. She was still furious with him for being cruel to
her sister, perhaps even causing the results lying on the bed before them. In
any case, Cassandra didn’t want him to touch her.  It was a harsh and bitter
move.

Kurtis put his arms down,
watching Cassandra with devastation on his face.  He was struggling not to feel
guilty about what had happened but try as he might, he could not shake off the
sense that somehow this was his fault.  He had been yelling at Chloë and she
had fled from him, upset, apparently so upset that her carelessness caused her
to fall on the steep spiral stairs.

His gaze moved from Cassandra to
Chloë, lying pasty upon the coverlet.  He had lectured Chloë on how her loss
would affect Keir’s life. Now, they were facing something unexpected, something
terrible and potentially shattering, and he couldn’t shake his guilt. 

To hell with Ingilby and his
proposal; to hell with Chloë and her counter-proposal.  All that mattered now
was that Chloë was gravely injured and Keir needed to be here, not on some icy
hill in Wales fighting rebels in a foolish battle.  Kurtis’ mind, his grip on
his emotions, was slipping. He was feeling panic and distress as he had never
felt it in his life.