Marek (The Knights of Stonebridge Book 1) (11 page)

Could her story be true?

Impossible. He had ever suspected Katherine’s dalliance with black magic. But could she have succeeded in causing this unholy phenomenon?

And how to explain the sudden change within her? Marek’s wife had ever been selfish, spiteful, cruel. She had never shown the least interest in her daughter. In these days past, Marek noticed her repeatedly greeting the servants. She had herself carried sustenance to the men tearing down the old keep, treated them with kindness and gratitude. And not in a sexual way. Even though the workers surely knew her reputation, this woman’s attitude left no doubt that she was unavailable. There were no sly glances of invitation. Indeed, she allowed them no opportunity to make advances.

Nor did she make advances herself. She had ever delighted in humiliating her husband. She freely gave herself to any man, regardless of his station. The boy who had died in his shed had descended from a long line of pig farmers.

More evidence of her transformation.

And what of his strange sentiment towards her? Before he found her crying over the boy’s lifeless body, he had been lighthearted over their newfound benevolence. Those feelings had been dashed the instant he saw her on her knees at his side. But as he looked back, he remembered her sadness at the boy’s death. Had he not been so infuriated, he would have recognized compassion and anguish over the loss. He would also have been stunned at such a discovery. His wife had
never
shown compassion for another living being.

Father Jacob’s monotonous homily came to an abrupt halt. Behind Marek, the chapel door crashed open. He and all three of his brothers came to their feet, swords drawn.

***

The crash startled Kitty so much Bria nearly slipped from her lap when she jumped. On each side of her, Marek and his brothers flew towards the intruders, weapons drawn. She turned to see them racing to counter the hoard of thugs pouring into the church.
What the hell? There must be at least twenty.

Clutching Bria to her, Kitty scooted along the bench to the aisle. She had to fight against the other members of the congregation who, panicked, pushed and shoved their way to the side exit leading to the graveyard. The frantic villagers had created a bottle neck at the door. A couple of the invaders had managed to break through the knights’ defenses and, with hacking swords, attacked the helpless crowd trying to escape.

Kitty turned away, searched for another way out. She set Bria down but kept a tight hold on her tiny hand. Suddenly, William was before her.

“This way, milady.” He was so small, brandishing a sword that seemed far too big for him and waving it about as protection.

He scampered toward the long table where the priest had been saying mass only moments before. There was no other door to the outside, but she noticed a curtained entrance at the far corner of the nave.

Kitty ducked down and ran for the curtain, dragging Bria along with her. She let it fall behind them as they entered pure darkness. She peered out to see the boy racing back towards the fray. How could such a small child be so brave?

She leaned against the wall, her heart pounding inside her chest. She took a moment to look down at Bria, but she could see nothing. She felt the child trembling, but amazingly she remained quiet.

“Are you all right?” Kitty whispered.

“Where is Papa?” Bria asked, her tiny voice cracking. “What is happening?”

Kitty forced herself to remain calm. She had to get Bria to safety, no matter what else happened. She had to protect Marek’s child.

“We have to be very quiet,” Kitty said in answer to the little girl’s questions. “Stay right next to me.” Bria clutched her arm with her free hand.

Kitty felt along the wall, slowly making her way further from the commotion that had reached a deafening crescendo on the other side of that curtain. Wherever this passage led didn’t matter. It couldn’t be worse than what she was moving away from. Still, creeping into the unknown, enveloped in darkness, brought no end to her anxiety.

After a few minutes the darkness slowly began to dissipate. She could see a light ahead and crept forward in earnest. So far she’d heard no pursuers behind them and prayed they had escaped the murdering intruders in the church. She hoped Marek had slaughtered them all.

Please, God. Keep him safe.

As she got closer to the light, she heard voices, voices raised in anger, arguing. The hallway opened to a smaller chapel. Kitty got down on all fours, motioned for Bria to do the same and keep quiet. Slowly, painfully, they crawled to hide behind the altar.

“I will take my gold
now.
” The man’s voice was a deep baritone.

Carefully, Kitty peered around the stone slab behind which she hid. Two men stood on the other side, Father Jacob was one of them. There were no benches for anyone to sit. No stained-glass windows to let in light. Several torches burned in sconces along one wall. This chapel was tiny compared to the other one. The room itself was just large enough to accommodate a handful of people.

“You will receive payment when I give it. How dare you desecrate the house of God with your filth?”

One of the thugs towered over the priest. She recognized him by the same ragged attire as his companions. “I am doin’ ye a favor,” he sneered. “’Tis the perfect opportunity to get rid Stone’s wife and ‘ave you pay what you owe me and at the same time.”

Kitty covered her mouth. They meant to kill Marek's wife?
Her
? Why?

Father Jacob pointed in the general direction of the main chapel. “Unless I find her dead in yon nave, you will not get a copper from me. And this time, she had better stay dead.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Rest assured, priest. The Whore of
Stowbridge
is most likely dead as we speak. Stone and his brothers are no match for my men. If nothing else, we outnumber them six to one.”

“The name is Stonebridge, fool, and do not underestimate Lord Stone, nor his brothers.” Father Jacob peered at the other man, eyes narrowed. “If she is
not
dead, let us wait.” He tapped a finger against his lips. “I have something I want you to get from her first.”

CHAPTER NINE

Suddenly, the man produced a weapon. Kitty had not realized the man had a knife until the blade flashed in the dim candle light. He pressed the tip to Father Jacob’s throat.

“I will take my payment now.”

Father Jacob slapped the thug’s arm away. “You threaten me? You will get paid when I pay you. Not before.”

Kitty motioned a reminder to Bria to keep silent. She kept her eyes on the two men, hoping for a chance to slip away to safety. Her concern now must be for Marek’s child.

“I want what’s owed me,” the other man demanded.

“I do not walk around with sacks of gold beneath my robes, you fool. Asides,” he smirked at the man holding him at knifepoint, “I trust you satisfied yourself on Garnetta when last you visited. Let that hold you for a day or two.”

Who is Garnetta?

The brigand moved in front of him and stepped closer, again threatening him with the knife. “That bitch is no even exchange for gold. But I bet she be willin’ to tell where you keep your stash,” he said.

Trapped between the man and the wall, Father Jacob launched at him just as the other man made to thrust the knife into his stomach.

As the two men struggled, it became immediately apparent to Kitty that Father Jacob was no match. He was nearly half the man’s size and possessed absolutely no fighting skills.

More importantly, she suspected the priest knew something about Katherine, something Kitty needed to return to her own time. If the thug killed him, she might never find out what it was. She took three easy breaths and blew them out through gently puckered lips.

Desperation overrode logical thought. Without waiting to make a plan, Kitty urgently motioned for Bria to keep quiet and stay put, then rushed to Father Jacob’s aid.

If not for the grave circumstances, she would have laughed at the men’s surprised expression when she darted from behind the stone altar. The stranger released Father Jacob, who then slumped to the floor. Was he already dead?

Kitty did not think. She delivered a snap kick to the man’s groin that caused him to double over in pain. Still he managed to keep himself upright while maintaining his grip on the knife.

Years of devoted study came to her without thought. She did not have to think to recall the forms of all her belt tests nor the moves she had practiced in sparring class. It was like finally being able to speak a foreign language without first having to translate in her head.

With an upward thrust to the man’s nose, Kitty laid him out. Blood gushed from his face as he fell back onto the stone floor. The knife had already fallen from the man’s hand, and Kitty barely noticed Father Jacob crawl over to retrieve it.

She stood over the fallen outlaw, her chest heaving with the labor of breathing and the adrenaline pumping through her. Clutching the knife, Father Jacob knelt on the floor. He reached out, felt for a heartbeat, oblivious to the blood that had slowed to a trickle from the man’s face.

He looked up at her then, sheer wonder in his expression. “He is dead.”

Kitty dropped to her knees, as well.
Dead? He can’t possibly be dead.
The enormity of the fight, her first real fight, and the dead man at her feet threatened to overwhelm her. She took deep gasping breaths. Her hands started to tremble. She clenched her fists trying to still them, but the trembling soon spread to her whole body.

Vaguely aware that the priest reached out a hand to her, she jumped when he gripped her arm. She snapped her attention to him, grateful to look anywhere but at the dead man. Father Jacob’s face was smeared with blood. His own?

“He is dead,” he repeated. “You saved my life.”

They continued to stare at each other for several long moments, neither of them speaking.

Finally, Father Jacob asked, “Why did you do that?”

“Mother?”

The tiny voice drew Kitty away from the morbid scene. She turned, intent still on protecting Bria. Would the child be scarred from watching her mother kill a man? She thought of how the violent death of her father had affected Vanesa.

A mother’s instinct overtook her. She stood, scooped Bria into her arms, and turned away from the body staining the chapel floor. Father Jacob was at her back almost immediately. Instinctively she pulled Bria away from him.

“I have never seen anyone fight like that, certainly not a woman. Where did you learn such a thing?”

Clamoring behind them drew their attention.

“Papa!” Bria began to cry at sight of her father. Marek rushed over, drawing them both into his embrace.

Holding Bria in his arms, he pulled away to look at them, but kept a tight hold on Kitty. “You are not hurt?” He looked from one to the other. With obvious relief, he pressed his lips to his daughter’s temple. Looking again at Kitty, he reached up and brushed her hair from her face. “Thou art unharmed?”

The relief in his expression caused Kitty’s heart to race. No way had he played a hand in his wife’s death, despite his hatred of her. She knew her smile was weak, but it seemed to appease him. She nodded.

“Father, she killed that man,” Bria said, pointing over her father’s shoulder.

By this time, Bryn and William had joined them. William hurried over for a closer look. “Did you stab him in the face?”

Kitty did not know what to say. How would she explain to them that she had killed a man with her bare hands? It seemed completely impossible even to her. She pressed a hand against the nausea that threatened.

Father Jacob was the one who spoke. “She saved my life,” he said, incredulous at the idea. “When he attacked me, your wife came forward, risking her own life to aid me. Together we struggled against him.”

“But when mother hit him –”

“How are the others?” Kitty interrupted Bria.

“We have seen worse. Many from the village have been lost today. But there are more injured than can be counted. Remi and Thane are organizing removal of the dead.” Marek pinched the bridge of his nose. “They fought bravely, even without weapons.”

Did he fight back tears? Kitty wondered that a man would feel such a loss for people who, only days earlier, had been ready to lynch him for harboring a witch, for somehow causing past crops to fail, for being the cause of their poverty. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. Marek didn’t smile when he looked at her, but Kitty could see in his eyes that he was glad for her support.

He patted Bria softly on her back. “All’s well, bobbin. The scary part is over.”

Bryn stepped around them to the man who lay dead upon the floor. “Do we think this to be the leader of that rabble?” He nudged the man with the toe of his boot, then squinted more intently at the man’s face. He glanced up sharply at his brothers.

Sensing that they recognized him, Kitty waited for one of them to speak. It was William who enlightened her.

“’Tis Joshua,” he said without trying to hide his excitement.

“Why would a groom from our own stable attack the entire village during mass?” Bryn asked.

From the stable? Kitty’s thoughts flitted back to last night when she’d tried to take a horse into the village to find Marek. There had been a man offering to fetch her a horse. Was it this man? She did not think so. That man had been older. He’d had missing teeth. She’d felt another’s presence on the road, but had brushed the thought aside. Had this man been stalking her even then? Had he intended to kill her last night? Had Thane saved her life?

“They wanted to rob us,” Bryn deduced.

Marek disagreed. “’Twould have been easier to ransack the keep as well as the village while we were thus occupied.”

“What then?” Bryn asked. “Assassination?”

Kitty met Father Jacob’s eyes. They stared at each other, but neither offered an explanation.

“Perhaps,” Marek said. “But who?”

Kitty pulled her gaze away from the priest. “We should see to the wounded,” she said, taking Bria from Marek’s arms and setting her gently on the floor.

“Aye. Bryn, help me remove this scum. William, you and Father Jacob go with her.” His lingering gaze was intense.

Heat rushed to her face. Kitty hoped it was too dark for the men to see her blush.

***

Kitty held Bria’s hand and pulled her along to the big chapel. She hardly recognized it as the place she’d been hearing mass less than an hour ago. Bodies were strewn all over. Benches had been overturned. Arrows littered the floor and lodged in wooden beams. She was reminded of Scarlett walking among the injured after the fall of Atlanta.

The bodies of the marauders were easily discernable from the villagers. The brave citizens of Stonebridge had been laid out in neat rows, while the attackers still sprawled where they’d fallen.

As she spent what seemed like endless hours wrapping wounds, comforting the distressed, or just fetching water, Kitty had little time to reflect on the revelations of that morning. Father Jacob had taken charge of the infirmary, much to her relief, so she merely had to follow his demands. Neither of them spoke of their shared ordeal.

Still, Kitty realized she was in mortal danger. Father Jacob wanted her dead. Why? And what did he know about Katherine’s death and Kitty’s journey from the future?

Marek and his brothers had removed the dead and spent the early part of the afternoon digging graves. Now he supervised the removal of the injured from the church. Those who were able returned to their homes. The rest were carted off to the castle keep. Many, still fearful of attack, camped in the bailey.

The chapel had yet to be cleaned, but finally no more bodies remained inside, dead or alive. Father Jacob stood in the graveyard reciting rites and prayers for the dead. They had lost twelve souls that day.

Anxious as Kitty was to return to the keep, she stood outside the group of survivors and family members wailing over lost loved ones. She kept her head down against the drizzle now swirling around her, as much from fatigue as respect. She occasionally glanced around, but recognized none of the anguished faces.

She did spy the charred ground beneath the remains of her own funeral pyre. Silently she slipped away from the impromptu funeral and walked over to it.

Had it only been a week since she had awakened to find her bed ablaze, then only moments later been knocked to the ground from this very pile of wood by Marek Stone? It still seemed impossible.

If Vanesa were not in such danger, the whole experience would prove some adventure. If only she had let Vanesa sleep with her that night. Would they have both been sucked back through time, or would her daughter have been left to die in Kitty’s bed? Had the bed really even been on fire? If so, the house itself would have burned. If she was able to get back there, would she find that Vanesa had been lost in the fire?

The pain from that thought caught her breath. Tears came unbidden. She had to believe that Vanesa was safe, alive at least, and that she would get back to fight for custody of her. Vanesa just needed time. When the legalities were taken care of, there would be time for counseling, time to heal. But she had to get back, to give her that time.

She rummaged around the charred grass at the base of the pyre, looking for some clue. She shoved half-burned logs out of the way, but her search revealed nothing, no hint as to how this had happened or how she could get back.

Kitty turned away. It was then she saw it. Trampled amongst ash and mud, she spotted her medallion peeking from the muck. She squatted down, grasped the edge, and pulled it free. As she brushed away the mud, revealing the familiar etchings, the hairs on her arms tickled.

The medallion was whole.

***

It was nearly dark by the time Kitty crossed the bridge into the bailey. A few makeshift tents had been erected, but most people had thrown some kind of pallet on the wet ground. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but apparently all that mattered to these people was the relative safety inside the walls of Stonebridge Castle. The villagers looked defeated, half-starved, broken. Many glanced at her as she passed but most simply ignored her. She climbed to the landing and looked around at those camped there. What were all these people supposed to eat?

The injured had been brought into the hall. Surprisingly, the numbers were smaller than she expected. She had washed and wrapped so many wounds that afternoon, she imagined the majority of the people from the village must be in need of medical attention.

Kitty looked around for Marek. She spotted him at a table by the fireplace, head down, resting on his arms.

He looked up at her approach. “Ah – here you are.”

He looked so genuinely glad to see her, her heart swelled inside her chest. Kitty sat on the bench next to him. “You look tired.” She reached out, squeezed his shoulder. Her fingers seemed to tingle at the mere touch of him. He really did look tired, exhausted. She wanted nothing so much as to soothe all the worry from his brow, to drag him upstairs and curl up next to him in that monstrous bed of his.

Instead, she had more bad news to deliver. Something
otherworldly
was going on. That medallion was the key somehow. She just needed to figure out what it did.