Knight Triumphant (38 page)

Igrainia lay her head back on her pillow. She was in incredible danger here, and it appeared that there was little help for her. Even if Aidan understood her feelings and sympathized with them, even though Eric had spared him on the battlefield, he had just admitted he didn't have the power to stop the king from commanding what would and would not happen in her life.

At this moment, she refused to let fear and desolation grip her heart. Eric had met Aidan in hand-to-hand combat. He could have killed him.

He had not done so. He had walked away.

She closed her eyes. She was desperate for sleep, and she would sleep. And there was a way out of every prison.

She would find the way out of this one.

 

 

Cheffington had been a fortress in the days of Roman rule when, in conquering Britain, the Romans had decided that they conquered far enough. There was little beyond but hills, rugged mountains, and savages. They had contended that such fierce and murderous men were not really worthy of Roman effort, and so in coming north, they had built walls against the dangerous hordes to the north and forts built of wood on high mounds to protect the men they sent to the outreaches of their domain. When the Normans had conquered England, they had begun to build in stone, and when King David, raised at the English court, had come to claim Scotland, he had seen such natural defenses, and turned them into high fortresses of stone.

But whereas Langley was surrounded by the additional protection of a moat, Cheffington had none. The inner yard, the land between the defense walls and the tower, was far larger; and the castle was more of a sprawling center of commerce, with wagons going in and out on a frequent basis. The outer walls, if attacked by an army with heavy equipment and many men, were not so well constructed for a lasting defense.

But Eric hadn't a large force of men, and no siege machines.

They camped in the surrounding forest, and spent a day watching the comings and goings, and the activity within the courtyard. They watched the positioning and the rounds taken by the guards, and they watched the common men and women, working in the fields beyond the walls, carrying in supplies, going about the daily business in the castle. Masons worked to repair places in the stone and structure where time had taken a toll.

They purchased a wagon from a farmer, and Jamie and Jarrett, never having been seen by any of Niles Mason's men or at Langley, drove through the open gates on the pretense of trying to sell hay. They spent the day circling the public areas of Cheffington, hawking their hay, and watching. They returned and reported what they had seen—the many people engaged in business within the walls, the blacksmiths, weavers, laundresses, dyers, and more as they moved about in the courtyard. Eric found himself most interested in Jamie's information regarding a group of players who came, setting up a stage and a puppet show in the courtyard. As far as Jamie and Thayer could tell, the poor band of entertainers certainly appeared to come and go at will. They spoke with the guards, teased and mocked them, did cartwheels and other acrobatics until they could gain a few coins from those men as well as what they were able to receive from those who watched their shows.

Thayer went back the following day with Timothy and Brandon. They wore rough wool cloaks and again, hawked hay throughout the afternoon.

The guards were on the lookout, but they were watching for armed outlaws, ready to descend upon them. No one gave a second glance to poor farmers selling their excess hay for whatever they could earn.

They spoke long that night, drawing diagrams in the dirt with the layout of the inner castle and walled town. Jamie talked earnestly about the people with whom he had talked. He was convinced that most of them, terrified of the English rulers, would turn their backs and offer no resistance if “outlaw” troops descended upon the English guard.

Gregory and Rowenna sat in on the discussions. Later, at night, when Eric lay alone, his mind still working in a constant flow of strategy, Rowenna came to him, sitting by his side.

He glanced her way.

“What does Gregory ‘see'?” he asked her.

“Images do not come to his mind at will; only God really knows the future, and there are those who would debate that, since He has given man free will,” Rowenna said.

“Ah.”

“But he believes in the Lady Igrainia,” she told him. “He wants you to know that she is strong, and clever, and that she can fight her own battles very well.”

“Um. Well, I believe that,” he murmured. Then he asked her, “And what of the fact that she is with the English? She is, after all, one of them.”

Rowenna nodded. “Yes, she is English. But Gregory doesn't believe that she deserted Langley, rather that she loved her brother.”

“I'm trying to believe that as well,” he told Rowenna.

She sat silent for a moment. Then quietly, she left him.

When morning came, Eric determined that it was time for him to enter Cheffington as well, hidden in the hay in the back of the wagon. He had to be careful, since both Niles Mason and Robert Neville knew his face. The robes of a friar stood him well, and he took his own assessment of the strength within the castle.

He watched the entertainers, spoke with the acrobats, and seamstresses.

Throughout the day, he noted the guards—where they met, where they stored their weapons, where they slept, how many were on patrol.

He saw Igrainia.

She was at some distance from him, on the arm of an older, silver-haired knight. Lord Danby, certainly, as the fellow was, deferred to by every man and woman who came close to him. Igrainia was dressed in fine garments, and she talked earnestly with him, smiled frequently, and seemed content and at ease.

He watched her with both relief and anger. Had she been forced to flee? Or was it that she perhaps considered herself free at last, among her people, the English?

He longed to run across the courtyard, seize her, and shake her. He fought the temptation.

A sudden flurry of activity behind the drape drawn by the entertainers caught Eric's attention. He hurried there, drawing the curtain, to find that one of the guards had seized upon Jamie, and was making demands regarding his business at the castle.

He held Jamie by the cloth of his shirt at his throat. Against the pulsing blue vein that ticked just above the man's hold, the guard pressed the blade of his knife. That Jamie could defend himself, Eric knew.

That he could do so now without creating a commotion, he wasn't at all certain.

Eric walked quickly behind the man and seized him around the neck from behind. The fellow struggled; he tightened his hold. Eventually, he fell.

Jamie stared at Eric, and exhaled. “Very good timing, Eric,” he said. “But we can't leave the body here.”

“No,” Eric said thoughtfully, “we can't.”

“Fine sword he has at his side.”

“Indeed. We can make use of it.”

“Eric, I have befriended one of the seamstresses here. The lass came to me, talking, perhaps saying more than she should. She introduced me to her father the tall, big-necked fellow there. He is the leader of the entertainers. We can cover the body here, for now, and set it in the wagon when they're breaking down.”

“How do you know we can trust him?”

“He was at Berwick, and barely escaped.”

“You believe him?”

“I saw some of his scars.”

“So what are they doing here?”

“Relieving the English of all the coins they can. And watching, of course. Always watching.”

That night, Eric, Jamie, and the others rode through the gates with a full wagon. When they reached the forest, they had the bodies of a number of the guards.

And the tall, thick-necked man who led the troupe of players.

 

 

Igrainia thanked God that she had been born the daughter of an earl. And though her father was gone, her brother now held his title. She knew that Robert Neville was frustrated to near fury. He dared not insist on any matter since he was only
Sir
Neville and Aidan was
Lord
Abelard.

Lord Danby also provided her with a strange margin of safety. He had arrived soon after she had herself, early in the morning the day after. She was summoned that afternoon to dine with him and the others in his great hall. He was filled with concern for her, and quick to assure her that she was now among her people, and safe.

“I am distressed to hear, of course, that you consider yourself really married to that outlaw,” he told her, pacing the hall.

“I am really married to him,” she said.

“It's a matter the king will deal with for you,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Robert Neville is a fierce warrior in the king's godly fight here, and he is dismayed that you are so against the prospect of becoming his wife. Igrainia . . . the king has said that it will be so, and therefore, you must resign yourself.” He came to where she sat at the table, taking both her hands, and looking at her earnestly. “Spend time with him. You'll begin to remember him as your husband's kinsman and good friend.”

“I'm afraid, Lord Danby, that spending time with him only makes me realize how he resented the fact that Afton was the lord of Langley.”

Danby sighed with frustration. At that point, Robert Neville entered the hall with Sir Niles Mason.

Mason, she thought, looked like a fox. His features were fine, he gave the appearance of an aesthetic man. He was anything but.

He was in the prime of life, a proven knight, hailed for his victories against the bands of Scots who often seemed to arise everywhere. Niles was one of those men who quickly put a subjugated people in their place. Those of little importance, Afton had told her, usually died on the battlefield, but Niles enjoyed the entertainment of a good execution. He delighted in hunting down the men the king most despised, and with the law behind him, creating a show of butchery.

“Ah, Lord Danby, trying gently to talk sense into our ungrateful beauty.”

“The lady is deeply concerned with the legality of her situation, and, of course, her immortal soul,” Danby said.

“Do you think so?” Robert Neville inquired, following Mason to the table to help himself to Lord Danby's ale. “I think that she has become bewitched, indeed, that she may even be an enemy of the king.”

“Bewitched?” Niles Mason inquired. “I think that the lady has fallen where many of the most gracious of our fair and noble women may—to the nightly talents of such an animal as the outlaw. Don't forget, I know this man, Lord Danby. He is a like a wolf in the forest, hungry, matted, dirty, and probably desperate. Not so grand as he would have us believe. He brought down Langley through sickness, not prowess.”

Robert looked at Niles sharply. “And he attacked and slew a party of well-trained knights to get back into the castle when he had escaped from it,” he reminded him. “He's a dangerous man.”

Niles Mason stood by Igrainia, smiling down at her. “Perhaps, when he came into the castle, filthy and diseased as he was, the lady had already decided that she was longing to be rid of her husband, and willing to take up with a wolf.”

She started to rise, furious, then afraid. Aidan had come into the room. “Sir, you are speaking about my sister!” he stated.

“Aidan, he speaks because fools are incapable of keeping their mouths shut, and you are above an argument with such a man.”

“This will stop immediately!” Lord Danby thundered. “Sir Niles! Igrainia has suffered a great deal and you will not torment her with such discourtesy. And you do, indeed, owe her brother an apology. Where is your sense of chivalry? There is no need for any of this. The king will soon know that she is in our care; his churchmen are already debating the legal issue. In time it will be settled, and Robert, you and the lady will come to peace with the situation.”

Igrainia was tempted to stare at Robert and tell him that she would rather die. She managed to refrain. With Danby here now she was eager to be a guest at the castle, rather than a prisoner.

“There is one thing that will certainly solve it all,” Niles said. His dark eyes, as sharp as his face, turned on her. “He was my prisoner. Due to die. And because of the plague he brought upon good men and women, he escaped.”

“He escaped! You fled with the first sign that the illness was real!” Igrainia accused him.

“My life is valuable to the king. If I die, it will be at arms, defending the realm,” he told her. “But that outlaw was my prisoner, and I swear, he will be so again, and once his head and limbs and extremities are severed from his body, the legal state of your marriage will not matter in the least, Igrainia, because he will be dead. Excuse me, Lord Danby. Since it seems that I do distress the fair and innocent Igrainia, I will dine with my men this evening.”

Robert Neville had come to the chair at Igrainia's side.

“Aren't you going to follow your dear companion at arms—and butchery?” she inquired.

“No, my dear betrothed. I am going to suffer through your hatred, with kindness of course, until such time as . . . as you are legally my wife, bound to honor and obey.”

Igrainia looked across the room and saw that Aidan was watching Robert. “Sir Robert!” he said suddenly. “On another matter of importance, I was talking to the head of the guard. He says that he's greatly distressed. Men have been disappearing. Can it be that they are deserting, going over to the enemy?”

Robert scowled.

“Lord Danby, were you aware that a number of men had disappeared?” Aidan asked politely.

“What's this?” Danby said sharply.