Lord of the Blade (17 page)

"A child?” Corbett asked in confusion. “Did
Lady Gilda realize any of this?"

"If she did, she never made it known. But I
suppose she suspected when my unwed maidservant's stomach blew up
larger than an inflated cow's bladder and I refused to send her
away."

"So you have another child, my lord?"
Corbett tried hard to understand.

"Yetta gave birth the same time as Gilda. I
was away that night, and when I returned - "

Corbett's mind drifted back to his
childhood. As the baron relayed his experience, Corbett relived one
of his own. Suddenly that horrible day that he'd erased from his
mind years ago, came into focus. Gilda giving birth. The
maidservant, too. It was all so clear now.

Corbett stepped into the room, and the
baroness screamed.

“
What’s he doing in here? Midwife, get
rid of the boy at once.”

A plump woman ran from the shadows of the
other side of the small room, and behind her Corbett could see a
maidservant lying on a thin pallet. The maidservant moaned softly
and rocked her large belly from side to side.

“
Aye, m’lady.” The midwife ran to the
door and tried to push Corbett out. “Ye shouldn’t be here, lad. The
baroness has just given birth.”

“
And pages are not allowed in my
chamber.” The baroness sat upright in bed, and held the squalling
baby to her chest.

“
I’m not a page,” said Corbett, “but a
sorcerer’s apprentice, m’lady.” He shook off the midwife and made
his way over to the bed.

“
Apprentice?” The baroness cocked one
eyebrow in response.

“
I’m so sorry, milady,” said the midwife.
“I’ll remove him at once.” She shuffled Corbett toward the
door.

“
Wait! The baroness stopped them. “Who
are you and why are you here?”

Corbett took a deep breath before
responding. “I’m Corbett of Steepleton in the north of Devonshire.
Son of the new lord of Blake Castle.”

“
New lord?” she asked.

“
Aye, my lady. The old Lord Steepleton
passed away two nights prior, and the baron appointed my father as
lord.”

“
What do you speak of, child? I wasn’t
informed as to the new lord of my husband’s fief. Who is your
father?”

“
My father is Evan Blake, milady. He was
the baron’s - ”

“
Captain of the guard,” she interrupted.
She looked toward the midwife, her face seeming to take on a darker
composure. “Midwife, clean up my child.”

A scream came from the shadows of the room,
then the cry of another infant.

“
Milady,” the midwife wrung her hands in
concern, “let me help the lassie, as she’s just birthed a babe of
her own and seems to be having difficulties.”

“
Nay, you’ll tend to my needs first or
I’ll see that you’re punished.”

“
She’s not as strong as you, milady. She
may die before she gets help.”

“
She’s only a servant and can fend for
herself until the rest of my maidservants decide to
arrive.”

“
They’ll be here soon. But this tower
room is far from the solar where the nobles’ usually give
birth.”

“
Take my baby, midwife, or I’ll have you
brought to trial for disobeying my orders.”

Corbett watched the midwife turn back to
glance at the shadows where the maidservant barely moved. With a
deep sigh, she took the baby from the baroness and started to wash
it in a basin of water. The baroness motioned for Corbett to come
closer.

“
What is it you want, peasant
boy?”

“
My father is a lord, m’lady. I’m not a
peasant.”

“
Everyone knows your father married the
vicar’s illegitimate daughter. Your father doesn’t deserve to be
lord of a castle let alone my husband’s captain of the guard. But
mark my words as soon as the baron returns from London it’ll be
rectified. My son will be the new lord as soon as he’s of age. My
new son Malcomn will rule Blake Castle and not your father or
anyone else of whom I disapprove.”

The midwife continued cleaning the baron’s
heir, and Corbett heard the maidservant’s infant crying in the
shadows. He wanted nothing more than to deliver the amulet and be
gone from this place forever. He held the amulet up in the
candlelight and felt the warmth leave his hand as the baroness
grabbed the token.

“
What is this?” she asked.

“
A gift from the sorcerer,
m’lady.”

“
What would I do with this wretched
thing?”

“’
Tis not for you, but for the baron’s
first born. ’Tis a talisman to keep the baby safe.”

“
What an odd thing to say. And such an
odd gift.” The baroness flipped the amulet over in her hand and
studied it closely. “Is that all the sorcerer said?”

“
Aye, m’lady. Nay.”

“
Well, which is it, boy? Aye or
nay?”

Corbett remembered something Orrick had told
him the night before. A prophecy he’d had. He’d been told to keep
it a secret, but surely Orrick didn’t mean to keep it from the
babe’s own mother. He questioned whether or not to mention it, but
when her eyes locked on his, he somehow found himself telling her
anyway.

“
He told me last night that the baron’s
first born would be known by the mark of the dagger on the back of
its neck.”

“
The mark of the dagger?” broke in the
midwife examining the baroness’s baby as she spoke.

“
Leave my chamber at once!” Gilda
ordered.

Corbett felt as if a weight had been lifted
from his shoulders. Her long finger pointed towards the door. “Get
out of here and take this with you.”

She hurled the amulet as if she were burned.
It went sailing across the room, ricocheted off the wall and rolled
across the floor. Corbett watched it disappear into the shadows
near the maidservant’s pallet and heard it settle as it thudded
into a soft object.

“
Give me my baby, midwife.”

“
Aye, milady.” The midwife put the baby
into the baroness’s arms and escorted Corbett to the door.

“
But the amulet - ” Corbett tried to see
exactly where it had landed, but she pushed him out and closed the
door.

He peeked through the keyhole, watching the
midwife stoop to recover something from the ground before lifting
the servant’s baby and cradling it in her arms. She held the quiet
baby to her ample breasts. With her back to the baroness, she
swaddled the sleeping child and tucked something into the blanket.
Then she knelt and laid her hand upon the maidservant’s neck.

“
She’s dead, milady,” Corbett heard her
reply.

“
Bring me her baby,” ordered the
baroness.

Corbett watched the midwife rise, then bless
herself before turning around. “Her baby is dead also.”

The baroness’s stiff spine relaxed and she
slipped down beneath the bed covers. “Was it a boy or a girl?”

“’
Twas a . . . a boy, milady.”

“
Bring him here at once.”

A hand on Corbett’s shoulder startled him
and he jumped to his feet, away from the keyhole.

“
Pardon me, but I must bring the towels
to milady.” A linen girl knocked quickly and then entered, closing
the door in Corbett’s face. He had been so engrossed with his
spying he hadn’t even heard her come up the winding staircase.
Slowly, he made his way to the bottom of the treacherous stairs,
glad his chore was finished.

He was wondering what he’d tell Orrick when
a slamming door and running footsteps from the top of the staircase
caught his attention. He hid in the shadows and watched as the
linen girl ran from the room with a bundle in her arms. She moved
much too quickly for such a dark corridor and such steep stairs,
and almost seemed as if she ran for her life.

With the squeak from above, Corbett heard
the door open once again, and this time a loud crashing noise of
something falling. Down, down it tumbled, landing at the bottom of
the stairs.

Peeking out from his hiding place, he spied
the midwife prostrate on the floor, her neck twisted at an odd
angle. Slowly, he made his way to the scene and kneeled next to the
plump woman. The midwife’s neck was surely broken from the
fall.

“
She always was clumsy,” came the
baroness’s voice from a few stairs above him. Her tall, lean figure
moved down the last few stairs, her shadow ten feet high on the
wall behind her. The flickering firelight blazed in her eyes, an
empty pitcher dangled from her fingers.

“
Now I’ll have no one to get my water,
will I?”

She held the pitcher forward and Corbett
noticed a long crack running from top to bottom.

“
Run and fetch it for me, child.”

Corbett hesitated, and the baroness’s eyes
followed his to the pitcher. She lowered it to her side and held it
in the fold of her gown.

“
Disregard the water, and go fetch my
henchman, Thorpe, instead.”

Corbett remained quiet with downcast
eyes.

“
Did you hear me, boy? Or did you have
something you wanted to say?”

He looked at the dead midwife lying at his
feet and couldn’t believe the baroness hadn’t even a tinge of pity.
He wanted to run and tell his father of the mishap, but his father
was with the baron in London by the king’s invitation. He wanted to
run and find Orrick, but wasn’t sure as to where the sorcerer had
gone. Corbett’s own mother was back at Blake Castle - too far north
to even think of making the journey by himself. He knew no one at
Torquey Castle and had never felt as confused and alone as he did
right now.

“
Look at me,” demanded the baroness, and
Corbett found himself obeying, mesmerized by the intensity of her
eyes.

“
She tripped and fell, do you
understand?” She guided his mind and he could think naught but what
she was telling him. She nodded, and he did so as well. “You’ll
tell my henchman Thorpe about her mishap.”

Corbett swallowed deeply, feeling that
weight upon him once again. He couldn’t do anything but nod slowly.
He saw the baroness’s mouth turn up in a slight smile.

“
That’s a good boy,” she said. “Now be on
your way.”

“
Aye,” he answered to the fire-breathing
baroness with blazing eyes, towering above him. “I’ll go at once to
find your guard and tell him the midwife has tripped and
died.”

“And when I returned,” continued the baron,
“both Yetta and the baby were already buried. I never even had a
chance to see the son they say she gave me."

"I am truly sorry." Emotion rushed through
Corbett’s being. He shook his head, trying to clear away the
vision. He thought he’d forgotten everything from long ago, but
lately he was remembering. Mayhap these were like the premonitions
Orrick said he was capable of having.

"Is that why you seem to keep Malcomn from
encountering danger?" Corbett finally broke the silence. "You could
not bear the thought of losing yet another child?"

Corbett's words seemed to pull the baron
from his melancholy.

"What?" He shook his head in disgust. "That
was all his mother's doing. And just between you and I, I am not
even certain he
is
my son."

"What brings such a hard accusation to your
lips?" Corbett eyed the man, wondering what other stories were
deeply hidden within him.

"My dear betrothed was no virgin on our
wedding night," he explained, "although she didn't think I noticed.
And she bore Malcomn earlier than was her given time."

"Then you did not confront her on this
important matter?"

"No,” said Kenric with a shake of his head.
“No, I didn’t. I had nothing left to live for, and I gave up
caring.”

"I have never known a man such as you. You
let your heart rule over your head."

I felt I had done an injustice to Yetta. I
was going to let everyone know about Yetta and our child but when
I’d learned they’d died, there no longer seemed the need to tell my
tale.

"I cannot believe this story that pierces my
ears.” Corbett pushed up from the chair, but the baron ordered him
to sit.

"I saw a vision of Orrick in my room
recently,” the baron conveyed. “Only it was so real. I believe his
lips spoke the truth."

"What did he say?" Corbett himself had seen
visions of Orrick since his disappearance, but not since childhood.
He had never told anyone, especially Kenric, for fear he would be
deserted as a child who had truly lost his mind.

"My baby did not die!" exclaimed Kenric.
"Orrick told me my child still walks the earth. I must find him if
it is the last thing I do. The prophecy of Orrick states my true
heir will bear the mark of the dagger on the back of the neck. I am
a very ill man, Corbett. I need a warrior who will search for my
true son until he is found."

"I will be loyal to you, my lord. I will
start the search immediately."

"Please keep my secret, in case my true heir
is never found."

"I understand, my lord."

“And that brings me to the reason I have
called you here today." Kenric straightened up in bed as if he were
about to discuss something of great importance. "Malcomn tells me
that he saved your life during the attack in the forest. Is this
true?"

Of course. Malcomn would have to brag about
his own endeavors in order to bring praise and attention to
himself. True, he deserved at least an acknowledgment for his
heroic act, but Corbett had not been able to bring himself to give
it

"Aye, 'tis true.”

“Then I think ’tis time he’s dubbed a
knight.”

What was he saying? How could even suggest
such a thing? Especially when he wasn't even sure if the boy was
his own son.