The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (25 page)

Richard nodded, “I could do that.  Forgo the trial and send her on to the executioner.”

“No,” Damien replied quickly, more gruffly than he had ever addressed the king.  “I mean to say,” Damien cleared his throat.  “That is I am requesting you give her a pardon.”

Damien stood uncomfortably under the king’s long scrutiny.  He wanted to straighten to show the man he was strong despite his desire to beg and plead with this man to spare Keri.  But to straighten would send the wrong message to the king, something Keri could not afford for him to do.

“Pardon a witch?”

Damien shook his head clamping down on his anger at the king’s certainty of the accusations.  “She’s not a witch.”

“It’s a gamble I should not take with the people of England.”

Damien felt like scoffing.   Richard cared no more for the people of England than he did for England itself.  It was galling to serve a king such as him.  One who wished to be away from the land Damien was willing to give his life for.

Apparently the king wanted the rebels within his grasp for his tone changed, “I guess if you will serve me by bringing me the rebels I can see fit to excuse her from her trials.”

Damien studied Richard for a moment then nodded his head.  “Thank you sire.”

The king clapped him on the shoulder.

“Understand if I do not free her until you have brought me the rebels.”

“What of my sister?  I have served out the term of our agreement.”

A sneer crossed the king’s face.  “Consider this your last trial of loyalty.  If you do not bring me these rebels both women will be killed.  So do return with them in all do haste.  I
grow impatient to return to the Holy Land and wish this matter settled.”

Damien bowed to him and left the chamber.  The king’s words echoed in his mind, “Return to the Holy Land.”  He had known hadn’t he, deep down hadn’t he known Richard would always return to the fight?  His service was up for guarding the crown here at home, but what would the king do to get him to go into the fight with him.  He had already served his time in war, been among the victors and the fallen.  He had an uneasy feeling this was not the end but only the beginning of what the king would ask of him.

Through the corridors Damien's strides were long as his anger steamed him on.  All the way to the men's quarters.  He was two paces from his chamber when he heard the woman sobbing.  He stopped in his tracks and listened for a moment.  Along with the sobs were muffled pleas.  He would have ignored the female, left her to reap what she sowed for being in this area of the castle to begin with, but the sound came from one of his men’s chambers.

Flinging the door open it banged against the wall.  The explosion brought a shriek from the girl and it was Roland who turned to glare at him as he stepped into the room.

With a quick glance he took in the situation.  The young woman was pinned face down on the mattress by Roland who had her skirts flipped over her back, his legs holding hers open. 

“I will be with you in a moment,” Roland bit out before dismissing Damien and returning his attention to the girl.

“No,” she pleaded as a sob escaped her.

“Release her,” Damien ordered.

A chuckle full of malice escaped him.  “Do you know who this is?” he asked forcing her roughly back down onto the mattress when she tried to rise.

“A frightened child.”

“His majesty’s virgin niece.  He is expecting a large bride price and strong alliance with her virginity.”

“Release her.”  Damien’s voice boomed in the chamber and would have made a lesser man shudder.

With a frown he turned back to the girl, intent on destroying the king’s prize and disobeying Damien’s order.  The fury Damien left the king’s chamber with had not dissipated and he turned that on Roland.  Quick strides carried him to Roland where he seized him by the back of the neck and slung him sideways away from the girl.

He heard sobs escape her and then she was babbling.  “Shut up and get out!” he screamed at her.  When she immediately did not obey he added a stern, “Now!”  As Roland was struggling to regain his feet the girl jumped to hers and was rushing toward the door.  “I would hate for your virtue to be questioned with your presence here,” Damien warned before she fled the room.

“That was uncalled for,” Roland declared angrily once back on his feet.

Damien felt his thin thread of control snap and he lunged for the man he had once depended on.  A man who had once been his voice of reason was now more lost than he himself.  Roland was the one among them who had a family to think of.  He had a wife and children and had offered opinions that reflected his concern for them.  Whether it was in an effort to protect or feed them his voice was rational, not that of a man with nothing to lose.  Now that man was gone.

As his fists rained blow upon blow on the other man he felt a keen loss for the friendship that he would never have again.  The king he served faithfully and without hesitation, turned good men like Roland into evil men.  Damien had once been good but that had been changed, as Roland was changed.

Only when Damien was exhausted, his knuckles raw and bloodied, did he stop.  He collapsed onto the rug next to where Roland’s battered body lay unconscious.  Perhaps the saddest part of their fight was now the man who lay unconscious had a slight twist of a smile upon his face.  Roland enjoyed the fight, the oblivion it brought to him.  Damien recalled screaming in Roland’s face he was his conscience and his sanity but he knew it was too late, for both of them.  King Richard had seen to that when he killed Roland’s wife in front of them, in front of her own children.  Oblivion born from total exhaustion claimed him and he welcomed it.  Content to sleep beside his friend whose soul was as lost as his own.

Chapter 18

For Damien the days that followed became dark as he left his men behind and struck out on his own.  He wanted his search to be as inconspicuous as possible but if he were to take anyone it would have to be Cyrille and he was anything but.  It had been a long time since he was without anyone at his back, at least that’s what he told himself.  The reality of it was he could not get the thought of Keri from his mind.  He did not doubt Richard would release her when Damien was successful, but that term could be used loosely to suit Richard.   His waking moments were spent wondering where she was, what she was doing. 

She had asked him once what Richard would do with her and he had said he would marry her off.  Was he already choosing a husband for her?  Would the man Richard chose be kind to her, give her the adoration she deserved?  Would he beat her to break her spirit?  He hoped the man would ignore her but he knew a woman such as she would never be ignored.  These were the dark thoughts that plagued him as he tried to keep his wits while he searched for the men who plotted a revolt.

Damien looked around him now, searching in the darkened interior of the tavern, the smells of human bodies and ale mixed to create an odor that turned his stomach.  He pretended to take another drink from his mug, his eyes shifting in search of the group of men who were supposed to meet here tonight.  The hour was growing late and he began to doubt this meeting was actually going to take place.  For three nights he had sat at the same table on the same bench so he could watch the comings and goings of the small room.  Perhaps his information was wrong and the rebels were far from here and he had been sent here only to be thrown off the scent. 

His eyes came to rest on one of the men sitting in the far corner, Daniel Montgomery.  He too was surveying the room, taking in his surroundings and watching the door closely.  Another once around the room and Damien spotted another man not far from him also finding his surroundings of keen interest.  The door opened and a man stepped in, hesitating near the door.  He locked eyes with both men and gave a nod before moving further into the room.  Within a few moments they had shuffled around until they and an additional man had joined them.

If someone didn’t know to look for this meeting they would not notice it was going on.  The men moved back and forth, as if merely moving about the room but they were talking amongst themselves.  Damien watched them, discreetly until they began to shuffle away from one another.  Damien stood and went out the door, mixing into the blackness of the night.  One by one the men left the tavern, their horses carrying them away with Damien taking note of their direction then mounted his own horse and followed the last man.

He stalked him for 15 minutes as he rode from the village.  This was the man who had entered the tavern last, could this be the ring leader.  Damien knew each of those men were leaders in the rebellion against King Richard, each coordinating their men with the others in an effort to succeed not only in the ousting of Richard but his death as well in order to clear a path
to the crown for John.  He was pretty sure these were the men he was sent after and soon he would confirm this.

The man’s saddle squeaked and his horse chomped away at his bit making it rattle against the reins.  The man’s belt held a dagger and something else that seemed to chime each time his horse took a step.  All this noise was not present with Damien and his horse and they over took the man, the piece of rope he slipped around the man’s neck as soon as he had begun to turn at the motion of Phantom’s head moving into his field of vision bit into his skin.  Any action was too late for the man was yanked from his saddle and left dangling in midair before Damien dismounted taking him to the ground with him.  He wasn’t a small man, nearly the same size as Damien, but that did not make him hesitate, knowing he was superior in battle to any of these rebels.  He allowed the stranger to reach panic mode before relaxing his grip on the rope about his neck. 

“What is your name?”

The man stuttered in a way that clearly told Damien he was delaying the inevitable.  The rope tightened and the man was nearly close to collapse before Damien eased the grip on the rope.  “Your name?”

Between gasps the man managed to choke out, “Pierson Alsford.”

“What is your business on this night?” Damien asked in a voice that was outwardly calm but inside he was in a frantic turmoil to see this task completed.

“I was just at the tavern getting a drink or two.”

The last word came out as a squawk when the rope cut it off.  “I know you support John.  You and your three buddies.”  The man had the audacity to smile at him.

“Who are the others?”

Pierson shook his head.  This time the rope stayed tight around his neck until his eyes bulged from his head and he was only seconds from dying. 

“Who?” Damien demanded in a scream beside the man’s ear knowing the haze of confusion that was surrounding him as he struggled to breath.

“Daniel Montgomery,” Pierson wheezed.  “Bolton Elspeth and I don’t know the other man’s name.”  When the rope began to tighten he franticly declared, “I don’t know the other man I swear it.  He is titled and that is all I know.”

“Where will I find these men?”

“I don’t know,” the man spat in anger only to have the air cut from him again.  “Where?”

“Bolton and Daniel go to Penrith, I don’t know where the other man goes.”

The struggle that ensued was one Pierson could not win and by the end he lay prone on the ground, Damien crouched over him, the hair on the man’s head held tightly in one of Damien’s fists and his other hand held his dagger to Pierson’s throat.

“What is planned?”

“I don’t know,” he said letting out a small whimper as the blade began to draw blood.  “I don’t know, they do not tell me.”

“Then what’s your role in all this?” 

“I have men I am to gather and meet everyone at Bewcastle.”

“Why Bewcastle?” Damien asked with a sinking feeling.

The man shook his head and managed an “I don’t know,” in a whisper before Damien ended his life.  He was supposed to present the king with prisoners but this man would only be a hindrance whether he took him prisoner or released him.  Rising from him he wiped the blade across the man’s tunic to clean his blood off it before sheathing it at his waist.  Removing his sword he used it to sever the man’s head from his shoulders and feeling close to losing his dinner he dropped it into a burlap sack he tied to Phantom.  Since when did his noble service require such an action?  He took a moment to empty his stomach in the bushes after all, the threat of burning in hell for all eternity become more and more a reality with each passing day.  Taking the reins of Phantom he swung into the saddle and headed toward Penrith and the men he hoped to find there.

~   ~   ~   ~

Keri turned to the servant who was sent to her.  She didn’t understand why Richard would send her with orders to dress his prisoner in the finest gown she could ever hope to adorn her body.  She wasn’t sure what was done during the witch trials but surely the gown would be ruined before the day was out.   At least she would go to her death looking like a lady although she had long since been stripped of that title.  She wondered not for the first time what had become of Damien.  It would seem as if he had just abandoned her.   Why wouldn’t he?  She was just a nuisance to him.  Her imprisonment was just another notch of success to go in what must be a long line of notches.  She couldn’t imagine the man failing at anything.  She wondered if he had earned a title and found herself saddened by the thought he probably never would and would likely die somewhere in battle just another pawn for Richard.  The last thought made her shove it angrily away before she found herself in a morose mood once again.  She had enough on her plate today without worrying about Damien and his future. 

“She is ready,” the servant called and the tower door was flung open and two hulking men stood just outside ready to escort her. 

Down the steps, through corridors, the walk to her death seemed endless as her heart seemed to drop to her feet with every step.  This was it.  The moment she had waited for, it seemed a lifetime.  At least her children were safe, she thought for the hundredth time.  Wasn’t that the best thing she could hope for now?  Her offspring would live on, perhaps make a difference in England, she hoped beyond all else if they never did anything they would be happy. 

The large door before her opened and she was ushered into a large room, crowded with numerous people, all wearing what must be their richest clothes as they milled about.  The two men who escorted her motioned her forward, toward another guard who stood near a dais the king himself sat upon.  The other guard beckoned to her so with her head high she moved further into the room, unable to take her eyes from the guard.  If she looked about her, at the rich opulence of the room she might just lose her calm demeanor.  Her back stiffened more so by the time she reached the guard she felt as if her taught muscles would snap her in two. 

With a callused hand the guard offered her a hand up onto the dais.  Lifting the skirt of her gown slightly she took the step up and remembered to bow to the king at the last moment.  No use giving him a reason to lop off her head before everyone she thought as she halted before him. 

The man in his regal clothes looked as if he would be a proud king even if he sat upon his throne naked.  She knew no one in the world would dare challenge him if he chose to do so.  The thought almost made her laugh but she shoved the image to the recesses of her mind so she did not look totally mad before him by falling into peals of laughter.

“Take a seat,” Richard said only giving her a moment of attention as he watched the troubadours she had just noticed performing before the dais.  She numbly watched, her mind whirling and unable to grasp the antics and humor of the story they portrayed.  At the end everyone near broke into great guffaws of laughter then applauded.  Keri did the same although she had no idea of what she was clapping for.

“I am glad to see you look better than the day you were last brought before me,” Richard declared his keen eyes falling on her.

“Thank you,” she murmured wondering if his complement was for the clothing he sent her.

“It would not do for word to get out you were not well cared for.”

Keri’s eyes darted to the king, her mouth falling open.  “I thought my condition would not matter as I face the trials.”

A frown broke across the king’s face.  “Normally it would not but I have freed you from the trials under Damien’s assurance you are not a witch and do not wish harm upon my title.”

“His word is all that was needed?”

Richard looked at her as if she had grown two heads.  “No my dear, his service is what was needed,” he said with humor at her ignorance edging his voice.

“I thought you already had his service,” Keri said as apprehension began to build in her. 

The king studied her for a moment and she got the uneasy feeling she would not like what he said.  “I have agreed to drop the charges against you in exchange for him finding the rebel leaders and bringing them to me.” He sighed as if he did not want to continue.  “Damien is a loyal man, but only to the one who wears the crown.  He was loyal to my father,”

This meant at one time Damien had opposed Richard.

“I almost killed him but Damien is a good knight, a strong fighter so he and his brother went on crusade with me.  Mind you I had their loyalty because I have their sister.”

Keri nodded.  She knew this must have been when Cyrille was nearly killed and with the weight of his sister’s fait on his shoulders too Keri could see it turning Damien into the man he was today.  A fierce man, a hard man, a man who hid behind his armor in order to remain strong and in control.

The rest of what the king had said began to sink in and Keri found herself speechless, her body frozen to the high back of the chair.  It was no secret John apposed his brother, claiming their father had left it to him, John, and not to Richard, because Richard had tried to overthrow
their father while he was still holding the crown.  Nor was it a secret John was not shy about leading a revolt which would place Richard’s rebel leaders on the front lines of the building firestorm and the man sent to hunt them down right alongside them. 

“I see by the look upon your face you do not agree with me sending him away for such a task,” Richard continued, his voice cutting violently through the fog that seemed to swirl about her.  “You now find yourself in a similar situation as his sister.”

Keri turned her head to see the colors of the troubadours bouncing around swirling together, the laughter of the viewers running together, driving into her skull until she felt as if she would puke.  “Do not worry for Damien, for the two women he cares most about is my guarantee he will complete this task.”

She turned back to the king and stared at him for several breaths, she only knew she exhaled and inhaled because she heard the loudness of it overcrowding the rest of the noise in the room.  “I will be gracious enough to offer you the comforts of my home without having to be locked away in the tower.  That however does not come without a price.”

She felt like a lion’s prey that had been run aground, lying helpless within its jaws.  “I understand the price you ask but I must be fair and make you aware I carry another man’s child.”