Lord of a Thousand Nights (31 page)

Restlessness gnawed at him, and he stepped out into the rain and strolled through the camp to where he could see the wall of Harclow. Dotted along its length were the soldiers keeping watch, fewer than normal because of the rain. The mud and wet only made dangerous work more perilous, and Morvan's army needed the rest anyway.

For weeks the assaults had continued, the siege towers had rolled forward, the machines had hurled their missiles. The men within Harclow kept falling, just like Morvan's own, and their numbers must be much diminished, but old Maccus would not yield.

Ian himself had commanded one of the siege towers every day since he arrived. It was a great honor, and the assignment had surprised him. But it was not honor that he had felt while he waited atop, sword ready, as the high wooden construction was rolled to the wall. Something else prickled in his blood then, so forcefully that its name could no longer hide.

Fear. Its pervasive power astonished him, and he had no experience dealing with it. But he knew what it was, had known in his soul since he rode to meet Thomas Armstrong that day.

When he was eighteen, he had known such fear once and had succumbed to it completely, but then it had died in him, and his skill in warfare had been enhanced by his freedom from it. Others might lie awake before battle anticipating the death that awaited, but not Ian of Guilford. Others might debate the cost of rushing to the aid of a stranger outnumbered at the Battle of Poitiers, but he had never reckoned with such accounts.

Until now. All around him were battle-hardened men
who had long ago learned to control fear, but suddenly he was a green youth again, bloodied for the first time, calculating risks he had never noticed before, relying on instincts that he no longer trusted.

He circled toward the lake, passing the path that led to the periphery of the camp. He peered toward the tents that held the merchants and washerwomen and whores who formed the little town that had sprung up to serve the soldiers. Normally, on an empty day like this, he would go there and pass some woman a coin to break the monotony. Today, the notion of following that path struck him as somehow obscene.

Because of Reyna.

Reyna. She was at the heart of it all. She was in his head worse than ever, and the fear was hooked firmly to those images and thoughts. He did not admit this to himself with any rancor or blame. He simply recognized the truth while he walked through the mud to the lake's edge.

Across the expanse of water, he could see the break in Harclow's outer wall that David had made with his gonnes. It had taken many tries to find the angle that would hurl the round stones across the lake, but then David had fired a day's worth of balls until the wall had cracked and fallen. It had been an experiment more than anything else, to see if the repeated impact could effect such a thing from such a distance. But today, while they lay on their cots in the tent that they shared, he and David had come up with a way to make the achievement more meaningful.

Images of Reyna claimed his thoughts again in their insistent way. He wondered what she was doing right then in Carlisle. Did her thoughts turn to their last hours together as often as his did?

My love
. It had sounded so right when she said it, just one more strand in the seamless intimacy they had shared that night. Perhaps he should not put too much weight on a simple endearment, but that night another emotion had also demanded its name, and the fearful, hopeful youth resurrected inside him badly wanted to believe that they were together in this.

They had been her words, not his. Why hadn't
he
spoken them to
her
, if not that night, then the next day before they parted? Had he left it unsaid to reassure himself that he would survive to speak of it later? Was the fear so entwined with the love?

Fear. It kept coming back to that. The love and fear were two sides of a transparent coin—impossible to see one without the underlying side of the other affecting the view. What did he fear? Dying, that was certain. Losing her, to be sure, either through death or disillusionment. Loving her?

He retraced his steps back through the camp. A small fire burned outside his tent under a high canvas awning, and he settled himself on a log near it. Morvan emerged and walked over to join him.

“Do you think we should try this plan, Ian?”

“It is no more dangerous for the men than any other assault. The walls on the lake are barely manned. If the surprise comes fast enough, it might work.”

“We will prepare for it, then, and if the opportunity comes, we will do it. I will want you with David on it, though.”

Ian shot him a sharp glance. Morvan had not missed the fear, it seemed. He sought a discreet way to remove Ian from the tower.

Morvan caught the look. “It is not that,” he said, acknowledging both Ian's suspicion and the fear itself. “You
are clever in matters of construction and strategy, and as the plan unfolds there may have to be sudden changes made. Between David and yourself, if something goes wrong, it might still be salvaged.”

They had never developed an easy friendship, and so it surprised him when Morvan spoke again. “As to the other, I think no less of you. All knights must face it sooner or later, except the ones lacking in wits or imagination. You used to fight like a man with nothing to live for. Now you fight like a man with everything to lose. Of the two, I would rather have the latter by my side.” He walked away into the camp before Ian could respond, but then there was nothing to say.

Ian returned to the tent. He found David sitting on his cot, making calculations in the dirt with his pointed stick. “Twenty rafts, I would say, each large enough to hold ten men. Better a good number of smaller size, so there is a chance of more making it across.”

Ian flung himself down on his own bed. “If the rains continue, the rafts will be wet enough that flaming arrows may not ignite them. Still, some are bound to go down, so you are right.” He studied the map etched into the ground. “This will only get us inside the first wall, of course.”

“How often have you seen strongholds stand after the enemy has breached the wall?”

Never, Ian had to admit. But old Maccus was turning out to be a tenacious foe.

He tried to give himself over to rest, but it would not come. With exasperation he swung up and walked to the opening again. Perhaps he would gather some men and begin work on those rafts.

“Does she know?” David's quiet voice asked.

Ian turned in surprise. He assumed that David referred
to his feelings for Reyna. No doubt he smelled of that, just like the fear. “Nay.”

David calmly continued his calculations. “She is bound to hear of it. The story is better known than you think. The men in your company, for example, are aware of most of the details. If they have never indicated so, it is because they fear your reaction and your sword.”

Ian felt his blood run a little slower. In his cool, impassive way, David had just broached a subject about which Ian never spoke. Perhaps he had always suspected that the company knew. Maybe that was why he avoided close friendships with any of those men. Inevitably the questions, then. Ultimately the judgment. One could remain indifferent to the opinions of people who didn't really matter.

“Christiana. Would she speak of this to Reyna?” Ian asked.

“Nay, if only because she herself is ignorant. We were not in London when the rumors spread.”

“But you heard the rumors all the same.”

“I knew before that. When I saw Elizabeth's interest, I made it my business to learn about you. All kinds of information passes among merchants.”

Ian felt a chilling resentment. “And you told Elizabeth?”

“Only enough so that she would know the truth when the story followed you to court, as it eventually had to.”

“You think that
you
know the truth?”

“I know that you were a boy who didn't want to die. I know that your father should have put aside pride and anger.” He paused. “I know that a bad woman played an elaborate and dangerous game, and won. Such a woman at any age is more formidable than most men. When they are young, they do not even comprehend the destruction they will cause with their schemes.” He tapped
the stick against his boot. “She has a child, I'm sure you know. A boy nine years old.”

“Not
my
son.”

“Nay, not your son. He is the image of his father.”

“His father was ignorant and innocent.”

“If you say so. I had drawn no conclusions from any of this.”

“I'm sure that you are the only one who hasn't. The typical conclusions are sordid and damning.”

“I smelled the truth upon first hearing the tale. No doubt others did too.”

“You have knowledge of the world. You have experience with what people can be.”

“And you think that your wife does not? Perhaps you underestimate her. I am continually amazed at the capacity of women to be understanding where their men are concerned.” He turned back to his calculations. “I think that we will need five men working on each raft. Since you show evidence of driving me mad with your pacing, perhaps you should go out and choose them.”

Ian thought that an excellent idea. He turned to leave, only to find the opening filled with Morvan's looming form. The big man pushed past, hauling a soldier by the scruff of the neck. With a sweeping movement he threw the man down on the ground. “Look who I found lurking around your company's tents, Ian.”

The man cringed at Morvan's feet. It was Paul, a member of his company sent to Carlisle to guard the women.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ian demanded.

“I just came to see the lads for a bit, didn't I? No great harm, as I see it.”

“You are supposed to be in Carlisle.”

“I was getting bored.”

“Bored.”
Morvan roared. “By God, if anything has happened to my wife or sister because of your negligence—”

“If it has, it ain't my fault.” Paul raised an arm to ward off the blow promised by Morvan's anger. “I couldn't stop 'em from going, not with them all determined-like, and that big one, well, show me the man who wants to try telling
her
what to do. And they did take Gregory with 'em at least, and insisted it wouldn't be for long. And I did suggest that maybe I should come and let Sir Ian know at least, but Lady Reyna was most insistent that I shouldn't bother no one over such a small thing, and the dark one agreed, and the big one, well, when they left she practically threatened me, just stared at me dangerous-like and felt her dagger hilt and told me to obey their orders and all would be well.”

Morvan's expression got darker. “Are you saying that the ladies have left Carlisle?”

“Aye, that's what I be trying to explain. Got on a boat and ordered me to stay at the house, but it got very boring just sitting there in that empty place with only that old hag of a servant. So I decided that a quick visit here would do no harm.”

“This is Lady Anna's doing,” Ian said. “She did not want to go to Carlisle, and she all but cursed me when I gave her your instructions, Morvan.”

“Do not accuse my wife of starting this, Ian.”

“Are you suggesting that Reyna forced Anna into leaving? Hell's teeth, Morvan, your wife could pick her up with one arm.”

“Perhaps we should find out where they all went,” David interrupted. He lifted Paul to his feet and solicitously gave his garment a few dusting swipes. “Do you know where they were headed?”

“Seems to me I think I heard talk of Glasgow. A quick journey by way of the sea mostly, they assured me.”

Two husbands looked to Ian with annoyance. Only Reyna would have interest or cause to go to Glasgow.

“No doubt Anna joined in for the fun, and Christiana went along to keep an eye on them both,” David said dryly.

“I will go after them,” Ian said. “You can not leave, Morvan, nor will you need me for some days with this rain.”

Morvan nodded. “Take extra horses with you, Ian, and at least two men. When you find them, send a man back to me in haste with word of their safety.”

“I will come with you,” David said.

“Nay, David, you will stay here,” Morvan said. “You convinced me of this plan of yours, and now I have warmed to it. You will need to supervise the preparations. Ian, when you find Anna, tell her for me that I am most displeased and that she is to return with you at once. As for Lady Reyna, I leave her to you.”

Grabbing Paul by the shoulder of his garment, Ian dragged him out to the fire. “When did they leave from Carlisle?”

“Seven days ago.”

Seven days. Since they went north by boat, they would be in Glasgow soon. It would take too long to follow by way of Carlisle and the sea. He would have to cross Armstrong lands. With hard riding he might get to Glasgow before they left.

“Gregory was to be with them the whole way?”

“Aye. And Lady Anna took a bow and sword. Dressed like a man, too, but then she always does that, which is odd for a woman, not that she looks all that peculiar, for some reason—”

“Why the hell didn't you come at once and tell me of this, Paul? While I do not think ill has befallen them, if it has I can not protect you from Morvan.”

Paul glanced over his shoulder cautiously. “I would have explained inside the tent, but he was fit to kill, wasn't he, and it wouldn't do to throw oil on the fire.”

“Speak sense, man.”

“Well, I assumed that you already knew they had gone to Glasgow. I sent word about it back with your man, didn't I? No reason for me to come at once and tell you, if he was going to.”

A chill danced down Ian's spine. “My man? What man?”

“The one who came five days ago with a message from you to Lady Reyna. Not from our company, but I figured Morvan had given him to you. He came asking for her, said he had a message and gift for her from you.”

“I sent no man, Paul.”

“Nay? Then who—”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just as I told you now, where they had gone and when.”

Ian's head almost burst as fear and love joined and transformed into one ripping fury.

“Describe this man.”