Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (46 page)

“I will speak with Ingilby now,” he said, moving
past Kurtis. “You will take my wife upstairs and confine her to her room.  Stay
with her. Under no circumstances is she to leave the room.”

“Wife?” Kurtis repeated, his surprise registering.

“Wife,” Keir replied flatly. “The priest just
married us.”

He started to move again but Kurtis stopped him. “Wait,”
he said. “Keir, Ingilby has the boy at the gate.  He is threatening to kill the
child immediately unless Chloë is brought out to him.”

Chloë’s brow furrowed. “Child? What child?”

Kurtis was looking at his brother as Keir looked
furious and sickened. Giving his brother a long look, he turned to Chloë and
forced himself to relax. 

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her arms gently, “I want
you to listen to me very carefully and with great calm. What I am about to tell
you is important and I need your level head. Can you do this?”

Chloë nodded solemnly but Keir suspected she really
didn’t mean it. Nonetheless, he continued because there wasn’t much time. 

“Do you remember when I went to Wales?” he asked.

Chloë was listening intently. “I do.”

“How much of that do you remember?” when he could
see she had no idea what he meant, he tried to explain. “Do you remember what
happened after I left?”

Chloë’s brow furrowed as she thought very hard. “I
remember that you went to Wales because the king asked it of you,” she said hesitantly,
as if it might be a trick question. “I... I am not sure what more you could
mean.”

“Do you remember that Ingilby sent a missive to
Aysgarth addressed to me?”

She cocked her head. “He sent
you
a missive?”

“Aye.”

“While you were in Wales?”

“Aye.”

Chloë’s big brown eyes were intense with thought as
she struggled to recollect. “Nay,” she finally said. “I am sorry, but I do not
remember a missive. Why?”

His big fingers caressed her arms as he spoke. “Ingilby
sent a missive, addressed to me, that in essence said he had found my son and
wanted to exchange the boy for you,” he watched her features glaze with shock.
“You felt that such a decision would destroy me so you sought to make the
decision yourself. You sent Ingilby a missive stating that if the boy was
indeed Merritt, you would consent to be his bride.”

Her eyes widened. “I
did
?”

“You did. You truly do not remember any of this?”

She shook her head, with great astonishment, and he
could see the tears coming. “I do not remember anything,” she sniffled. “Does
he truly have Merritt”

Keir kissed her on the forehead and gave her a hug,
comforting her. “I do not know,” he said, realizing that it was a struggle for
him to keep a calm head about such an emotional subject.  If the boy really was
Merritt, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would react. He’d never really given it
much thought because he was convinced Ingilby was lying. “I am going to speak
to Ingilby now to tell him that you and I are legally wed.  I will negotiate
for the boy if it is indeed Merritt.”

Chloë was starting to weep. “If it is him, we must
get him back.  I cannot believe that Ingilby found him.”

Keir cocked an eyebrow. “Nor can I,” he said with
some suspicion. “In fact, it is my belief that he does not have Merritt at all
and that it is another trick to try and obtain you.”

Chloë wiped at her eyes, struggling for control. “I
want to go with you when you speak with him.”

“Absolutely not.”

She grabbed him. “Keir, it is me he wants. If I sent
him this missive as you say I did, then perhaps he needs to hear from my own
lips that I….”

Keir cut her off, turning her for the stairs that
led to the upper floors. “Nay, Chloë,” he said firmly. “Do not argue with me.
Go upstairs and lock yourself in”

She winced when he pushed her a little too
forcefully and aggravated her injured back.  Keir saw her flinch and he stopped
pushing, returning to the comforting husband when he realized that he’d been a
bit too harsh.

“I am sorry, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead,
rubbing at her back gently. “I did not mean to hurt you, but you will do as you
are told. Please. I do not have time to argue with you.”

Chloë opened her mouth but her reply was cut off by
the sight of her mother, emerging from the upper floors.  Blanche’s intense
gaze fell on Chloë and Keir.

“I will go with you, Keir,” Blanche had obviously
heard a good deal of their conversation. “Since I sanctioned Chloë’s missive,
it is only right that I stand with you in this.”

Keir eyed the woman as she came off the stairs and
went straight to her daughter, carefully pulling her into an embrace.

“Although I appreciate your offer, Lady de Geld, you
will understand when I say that I will face Ingilby alone, as Chloë’s husband.”

Blanche kissed Chloë on the temple and let her go.
“Ridiculous,” she said evenly. “I am responsible for this situation. Let us go
now to resolve it.”

By her tone, there was no way Keir was going to keep
her from attending him. He just knew it. He grunted with frustration, looking
to his wife, who looked rather apologetic for her mother’s forcefulness. 
Without another word to Blanche, he took Chloë by the hand and directed her
towards the stairs once more.

“To your chamber,” he commanded softly, turning to look
at his brother. “Go with her for now, but monitor the situation from the
window. Watch me; I may have need of you.”

Kurtis nodded sharply, moving to take Chloë by the
arm to carefully help her up the stairs. Keir watched Chloë until she
disappeared from view, turning for the keep entry only to realize that Blanche
was watching him.  She was just staring at him, the dark eyes calculating. 
After a moment, she turned away from him.

“I am satisfied that my daughter has married you,”
she said, as close to an approval as she could come. “Now, let us get rid of
this nemesis once and for all, shall we?”

“Do you really think we can?”

Blanche eyed him coolly. “I think
you
can.”

Cocking an eyebrow at the woman, Keir let her take
the lead and followed her from the keep.

CHAPTER TWENTY
SEVEN

Keir had never actually seen Ingilby, so when the
gate of Aysgarth was opened, leaving the big fang-toothed portcullis as a
barrier, Keir wasn’t sure who to address.  There were a dozen men standing at
the gate, all of them in armor, now angrily posturing.  In his bloodied tunic
and without his armor, Keir came to a halt about ten feet from the portcullis. 
Blanche stood slightly behind him, partially obscured by the shadows of the
gatehouse.

“I would speak with Ingilby,” Keir announced in a
booming voice.

The men shuffled on the outside of the portcullis,
grumbling, shouting to each other, and in the midst of it emerged a tall man in
fine clothing. He had blond hair, graying at the temples, rather
cultivated-looking, and he focused his blue eyes on Keir immediately.  In fact,
he even smiled.

“You must be St. Hèver,” he said.

Keir remained cool.  “I am,” he replied. “And you
are Ingilby.”

Ingilby nodded faintly, is gaze studying Keir very
closely.  “Finally, I am permitted a glimpse of the man who has come between
Lady Chloë and me, and now I see why. She must think you quite handsome.”

Keir thought the comment rather ridiculous given the
circumstance, pausing for effect before answering. “So now you have seen me. Is
that why you have come? To see if I was more handsome that you are?”

Ingilby, too, stood well back from the portcullis for
safetys sake just as Keir was, so  in essence, they ended up speaking very
loudly to each other, and there were two  armies within ear-shot. When Ingilby
was finished studying the enormous warrior standing in the shadow of the
gatehouse, he crossed his arms expectantly.

“Not entirely,” he said. “What happened to
Alphonse?”

Keir was factual. “As I was bringing him out of the
vault with the intention of turning him over to you, unharmed, he felt the need
to injure two men and gore another before taking a hostage.  He was properly
dealt with.”

Ingilby, remarkably, remained cool, which was in
stark contrast to the rage he had been in not minutes earlier.  The death of
Alphonse had him infurated but the appearance of St. Hèver, strangely, calmed
him. At least, now he had a look at the man who was standing between him and Chloë
de Geld.  There wasn an odd satisfaction in that awareness.

“He was murdered,” Ingilby said simply.

“He was punished.”

“We could debate this all day.”

“Indeed we could, but I am sure that is not your
preference. You came to Aysgarth for another reason.”

Ingilby dipped his head. “Indeed I did,” he replied,
an almost conversational mood settling. “I have come to accept the terms of Chloë
de Geld’s missive. I would like my bride brought to me and I am sure you would
like your son delivered to you, so let us move past these trivialities and
conduct business.”

Keir remained business-like. “Correct me if I am
wrong, but the missive that Lady Chloë replied to was, in fact, addressed to
me.”

“It was.”

“She had no right nor permission to respond in my
stead, making her offer null and void.”

Ingilby lost some of his composure. “She has offered
terms and I have accepted.”

Keir’s jaw began to tick but he remained in control.
“I would see the boy before we go any further.”

“And I would see Lady Chloë.”

“The boy first.”

“Lady Chloë
first
.”

Keir shrugged. “I fear we are at an impass already,
for I will not move forward with anything until I see the boy you allege to be
my son.”

Ingilby was beginning to lose his cool.  He’d come
too far and did not take kindly to St. Hèver’s obstacles. With a grunt of frustration,
he motioned sharply to the men around him and Keir could see more shuffling
going on. There were voices, men moving about, and in the midst of it he began
to hear a soft, frightened voice. 

A man suddenly appeared from back in the crowd
carring a child over his shoulder and as he drew closer, Keir could see that
the little figure was bound and there was a sack over his head.  The soft
sounds of fear were coming from the child and Keir felt his composure slip as
the child was dumped roughly on the ground.

“Here he is,” Ingilby said, rather smugly. “Now, you
will produce the Lady Chloë.”

Keir crossed his enormous arms, trying not to look
too concerned for the softly weeping figure on the ground.

“Remove his hood.”

Ingilby didn’t reply. He just looked at Keir. After
a moment, he moved over to the child, now seated on his buttocks, and kicked
the child in the leg.  The child screamed and fell onto his side, weeping
hysterically.

“Bring me Lady Chloë or I will beat your son to
death right before your eyes,” Ingilby snapped. “I am finished negotiating.
Bring her to me or he dies!”

Keir remained stiff and unmoving, although inside,
he was ripe with fury.  Before he could respond, Ingilby kicked the boy again
and other men joined in, kicking the child as he screamed for mercy. Keir
watched with horror for a few long, painful seconds before breaking from his
stance and rushing back into the bailey.  He began to shout for archers and
within seconds, soldiers on the battlements were making tight their bows. 

Ingilby and his men heard the call for arms and
broke off from the injured boy, running for their lives as the soldiers on the
battlements let their arrows fly. 

Keir saw that Ingilby’s men were scattering.  He
bellowed for the portcullis to be lifted and as Ingilby’s men dispersed and
arrows rained down, Keir rolled under the small gap between the portcullis and
the ground and scrambled to his feet, dodging a hail of arrows to reach the small
boy wallowing several feet away.  He heaved the child up around the torso and
made a break for the portcullis, which had now paused with about a two –foot
gap between the iron teeth and the ground below.  It was enough space for one
person to slide through at a time.

Keir tossed the child under the portcullis and
prepared to follow when an arrow suddenly struck him in the back, followed by a
second one in the shoulder near his neck.  Keir went down as several of Ingilby’s
men, with shields slung over their heads, now rushed at Keir from their haven
of safety behind several trees.  Keir was too injured to fight them off but he
struggled to crawl through the portcullis gap as Blanche, having remained
silent throughout his exchange with Ingilby, grabbed the man by a hand and labored
to pull him under. 

The old woman was yelling for help, surprising for
the usually austere lady, but these cries were from the heart and soldiers from
the gatehouse joined her as they all attempted to pull Keir underneath the
portcullis. The majority of his body was outside of the portcullis,
unfortunately, and Ingilby’s men had a better grip on him as a bizarre
tug-of-war ensued.