Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (37 page)

“I am here, child.  Breathe deeply.”

“Mama, what happened?”

“You tumbled down the stairs and hit your head. Be
still now and rest.”

Chloë did as she was told, taking a few deep
breaths, at least as deep as she could without causing herself excrutiating
pain.  Her gaze was focused on the ceiling and after a few moments, she began
to look about.

“Where are we?” she wept.

“Aysgarth Castle,” Cassandra replied. “We are at
Aysgarth.”

Chloë fixed on her sister. “Why are we here?” she
asked. “I must return to Pendragon.  Where is Keir?”

Cassandra stroked her sister’s head. “He is in
Wales.”

Chloë was confused. “Wales?” she repeated. “What is
he doing in Wales?”

Cassandra was puzzled by Chloë’s reaction. “He had
to go,”she said softly. “Do you not remember?”

Chloë had stopped the painful weeping by now but she
was shaking and sniffling, looking around the chamber as if she had no idea
what was happening.

“Where is Keir?” she repeated. “I want him.”

Blanche hovered over her daughter. “He is in Wales,
Chloë,” she said evenly. “He has gone there with the king.”

Chloë looked at her mother as if she truly had no
idea what the woman was talking about. Her mind was skittish, foggy, everything
coming to her in pieces. She remembered the battle at Exelby and going with
Keir to Pendragon. She remembered their declaration of love for one another,
but after that, things grew hazy.  She gripped her sister’s hands tightly,
looking fearfully between her mother and sister.

“He is in Wales with the king?” she repeated.

Both Cassandra and Blanche nodded. “The king
summoned him,” Cassandra said gently.

“But why?”

Cassandra glanced at her mother for support as she
spoke. “Well,” she said reluctantly. “There was some trouble with the Welsh
and… well, the king needed help. He trusts Keir.”

“He went to battle?”

Cassandra nodded sympathetically. “Aye.”

Chloë’s eyes welled with new tears. “I do not
remember any of this,” she whispered. “I only know that I love him but… but I
do not remember coming to Aysgarth and I do not remember him leaving for
Wales.”

Cassandra was growing increasingly distraught,
realizing that her sister’s memory had been damaged by the fall.  The lump on
her forehead shielded hidden symptoms.

“We came to Aysgarth so that we could seek
permission to marry,” she told Chloë. “I married Kurtis last week but father
would not….”

Thankfully, the physic interrupted her stammering statement
with a white willow brew and Cassandra was grateful for the reprieve. In
hindsight, she probably should not have told Chloë that her father had denied
the marriage to Keir until the man returned from Wales. That would come later,
when Chloë was stronger. Or perhaps she would remember on her own.  In either
case, Chloë’s spotty memory was very concerning.

 Between Cassandra and Blanche, they managed to lift
Chloë up so she could drink the bitter potion. It caused Chloë great pain but
she fought it, drinking down the brew with quivering lips before being lowered
back to the bed.  Her watering eyes overflowed as she lay still upon the
mattress, eyes closed, lips shaking.

“I want Keir,” she whispered, tears trailing down
her temples. “I want him here, with me.”

Cassandra stroked her head. “Kurtis went to fetch
him,” she murmured. “He will be here soon.”

“When?” Chloë breathed.

Cassandra looked up at her mother as she replied.
“Kurtis left for him four days ago,” she told her sister. “He should have already
found him by now and I am sure they are on their way back. You must have faith,
Chloë. Keir will be here.”

“My lady,” the physic was trying to get her
attention, standing at the base of the bed. “Will you move your toes for me,
please?”

Shaken, disoriented, Chloë gazed at the strange man
fearfully. “Why?”

“Please do it.”

As the man tossed off the coverlet, Chloë wriggled
her toes.  The physic sighed when he saw the movement, looking to Lady Blanche.

“Praise the saints,” he said. “She is able to move
her toes. That is a good sign.”

Blanche was visibly relieved, displaying perhaps the
most emotion her girls had seen in quite some time as she put her hand on
Chloë’s head in a comforting gesture.

“Thank God,” she whispered.

Having no real idea why everyone seemed so relieved,
Chloë kept wriggling her toes, eventually moving her legs about. But the
movement brought pain in her torso so she stopped moving around.   Everything
on her body hurt at the moment, from her head to her knees, so she simply
stopped moving and closed her eyes, feeling the drag from the physic’s powerful
potion pull at her.

“Cassie,” she whispered. “Please… I want Keir.”

Cassandra kissed her cheek. “I promise he will be
here soon.”

Chloë faded off, into the painless realm of sleep. 
When Cassandra was sure she was asleep, she looked up at her mother.

“What do we do?” she hissed. “If Keir cannot return,
what do we do?”

Blanche lifted a thin eyebrow. “I would stake my
life on the fact that the man will return, Cassie,” she said. “My bigger concern,
however, is Ingilby. We sent him a missive agreeing to his terms.  If Chloë
does not remember coming to Aysgarth, then I doubt she remembers the missive
from Ingilby.  I must seek counsel from Lord Coverdale in this matter.”

“Not father?”

Blanche waved her off. “The man is too foolish to
give sage advice.  This was exampled by his decision not to allow Chloë to
marry Keir before he went to Wales. You stay with your sister while I attend
Coverdale.”

Cassandra watched her mother as the woman swept from
the chamber.  Feeling fearful and sad, her gaze moved back to her sister, lying
so still and pale upon the coverlet.

The situation with Chloë did not seem to be
improving.

CHAPTER TWENTY
FOUR

Keir was stone-faced as they cantered along the road
that would take them through the small village of Corwin on the Welsh Marches
and straight on to the road to Wrexham.  From Wrexham, it was a matter of hours
to Chester. It was the road that the army of the north had taken from Chester
into Wales and the road that Stephen had taken to find Keir. The Marches was a
wild place and few roads traversed the mountains region. This one was the road
most traveled.

They had been riding hard since mid-morning, when
Keir had emerged from the keep of Dolwyddlan with an expression that suggested
had had just emerged from an argument with the devil.  He had promptly ordered
his charger saddled and upon collecting his gear, rode swiftly from the castle.

 Michael, riding hard beside him, deduced what had
happened. Keir was clearly upset, silently riding as if to put great distance
between himself and the army of the north. Moreover, Lucan had been left
behind, which would not have happened unless Keir had been forced to make a
decision based upon his emotions and not his orders.  Lucan was left behind so
he would not get caught up in Keir’s disobedience.  The man could plead
ignorance to Keir having disobeyed a direct command.

So they rode hard, like madmen in flight, thundering
along the rocky road and hoping the chargers didn’t come up lame from the bad
terrain. The weather had cleared from the nasty storm that had blanketed the
area for the past several days, so they didn’t have to deal with rain or wind. 
The roads, however, were muddyand difficult to pass.

They continued for the rest of the day, passing
through the burgh of Corwin towards sunset and continuing on even after that. 
They had already paused twice to rest and feed the chargers, big beasts that
functioned on great mouthfuls of wet grass, and as the sun set to the west and
a blanket of stars came out in the night sky, the horses were growing weary
again.  Michael’s charger was beginning to bleed from the mouth so they reined
the horses into an easy trot until they came to the next village.

Llangolen was a fairly large town, one that
inhabited the Welsh Marches to the east of the Cambrian Mountains. There was
one massive street that ran through it, the Street of the Church, and no less
than five taverns lining the avenue. There were probably more that they didn’t
see because there seemed to be a lot of drunk people walking through the
street, disappearing down alleyways or into other taverns. 

There was light and music wafting into the dark
night, and Keir and Michael dismounted their weary chargers in front of one of
the larger taverns. They tethered the beasts and scoped out the area before
moving into the tavern, Keir inspecting the room as they walked through the
door and Michael covering their back.  It was usual when they traveled together
that they were on high alert.  Trouble was everywhere, especially for men who
carried weapons.

Keir went straight to the bar keep and demanded that
their horses be tended.  The bar keep, a big man with long, thin hair on his
balding head, barked at a boy who was working in the kitchen behind him, and
the lad bolted from the structure and out into the dark night.  As the boy ran
off, Keir then ordered a meal for himself and Michael.

Michael was already wandering the main room of the
tavern in search of a suitable table.  It was full of people, drinking and
eating and laughing, and a blazing fire belched smoke and sparks into the
room.  Michael found a table near the door where a pair of traveling merchants
sat, promptly kicking the men from the table and confiscating it.  He tossed
the remainder of their meal onto the floor, waving Keir over.

More exhausted than he would admit, Keir removed his
gloves, slapping them down to the table top as he kicked a chair away from the
tabletop and lodged it up against the wall.  He sat heavily, pulling off his
helm and peeling his hauberk back so he could scratch his scalp.

Serving women began to swarm the table, bringing
wine, brown bread and slabs of mutton in gravy.  Keir set the helm down next to
his gloves and poured himself a healthy measure of wine.

“When did you eat last?” Michael asked as he poured
his own wine.

Keir simply shook his head, his handsome face
stubbled and weary. “I cannot remember,” he admitted. “It seems like years
ago.”

Michael smiled faintly as Keir drained half his cup
in one gulping swallow.

“I heard during my travels that your army took a
sound beating north of Harlech,” he said. “I cannot imagine that you have had
much rest during the past several days.”

Keir sighed with exhaustion. “The Welsh were waiting
for us,” he muttered. “Five days of hell just north of Harlech, struggling to
make headway so we could make it to the castle. We were boxed in and never
budged, at least not until I convinced de Lacy that we needed to call a
retreat. Then, and only then, did the Welsh decide to let us go. That is why
you found us at Dolwyddlan, licking our wounds.”

“So Harlech is in trouble?”

“From what we know, she has been badly compromised
with a very long siege.”

“Where is Edward?”

Keir wriggled his eyebrows. “We have sent messengers
out, hoping to slip past the Welsh, but I have not heard anything as of yet.
The last we knew, Edward was moving up from the south to aid Harlech.  It is
quite possible that he met the same resistance we did.”

Michael took a healthy drink of wine before
following Keir’s lead into the food. They tore off great hunks of bread as they
delved in to the meat.

“How was Chloë when you last saw her?” Keir asked,
his mouth full.

Michael’s mouth was also full. “She was well and
happy,” he replied. “However, I will say that she misses you a great deal.
After you left, it took her almost four days to get out of bed.  She was quite
emotional.”

Keir sighed faintly, with regret. “She is a very
emotional woman,” he said. “She put on a brave front the day I left, for my
benefit I am sure, so I am not surprised to hear she suffered after I had left.
I suspected she would. I suffered, too, although I had no bed to crawl in to. I
miss her so much that I feel it in my very bones.  There is not one minute of
one day since we have been apart that I have not longed for her.”

Michael shoved bread in his mouth as another serving
wench brought a great bowl of boiled carrots to their table.

“I thought that the missive from Ingilby might send
her back to bed again, but surprisingly, she was very strong about it,” he told
Keir. “She seemed very resolute and determined to do what she felt best for you
and for Merritt. Kurtis had a devil of a time keeping her at bay.”

Keir shook his head, feeling some frustration. “My
brother is weak when it comes to women,” he said. “He will let Chloë do as she
pleases, afraid to upset her if he protests.”

“He most definitely protested,” Michael countered
firmly. “Do not have any doubt for a moment that your brother was not quite
upset about Chloë’s determination. He was furious.”