Rising Fire, page 11
The worst feeling flooded through her then, making her want to weep from despair. Looking at him, she knew.
“You and Mother must leave Yester. Go as soon as you can. Something is coming. You must leave and be safe,” she urged. She could feel the doom approaching faster, and she knew that it would cause many people to perish. “Take James and his parents. Take whoever will listen to you and leave in the night.”
“Hush, lass,” Gavin soothed, wrapping his arms around her once more. “Nothing can change our destiny. Nothing can keep us safe if it is not meant to be. And your mother and I would never leave you.”
“But you must,” she said.
He did not answer then. He did not need to, for she knew her parents would never abandon her.
“Go, now,” Gavin said softly as he released her. “Your mother could use your help with the laundry.”
Brienne wiped the tears from her face and nodded. He picked up his hammer and went about his task without another word. As she left the smithy, she glanced back and had the very strong feeling that she would never watch him work the metal again.
Chapter Ten
“Are ye ill?”
Brienne smiled and shook her head. “Nay, Mother. I am well.” She walked to the stream and knelt at her mother’s side, taking the tunic from her and placing it on the flat rock.
“Then why do ye come to help with this? I know ’tis yer least favorite chore to do and you avoid it at all costs.”
“Father suggested it.”
Her mother laughed softly but did not say anything. They worked in silence for a short while, stretching the dirty clothing over the rocks, rubbing them with soap, rinsing them and hanging them to dry over branches. After everything that had happened to her this morn, the mundane chores soothed her.
She knew the steps of how to do these things. And for a short time, her life was the one she’d known it to be. It was almost as if she could step back and forget all that she’d seen and heard and learned and be the young woman she’d always been.
“Look at me, Brienne,” her mother said. Lifting her head up from her task, she smiled at the woman who’d raised her. “Ye are different somehow, I think.” Only the shiny glimmer in her mother’s gaze told her she was teasing.
“Different?” she asked, sitting back on her heels. “How am I different?”
Her mother studied her face and her form and then met her gaze. “Yeu have the look of a woman who has been well kissed!”
Brienne could not stop herself from touching her mouth then, remembering all at once the sensations that had poured through her when William had kissed, caressed, and touched her. She’d never felt anything so wondrous, and she was caught in the web he wove around her with his hands and his mouth.
“Mother!” she said. “I have not—”
“Hush now, Brienne,” her mother said, taking hold of her hands. “James has our permission to court ye, and a few kisses are to be expected. What man would not try to steal a few from the woman he wants to marry?”
In the sensual onslaught caused by William, she had forgotten that kiss from James. It was nice, but would never come close to the heady, intense power of William’s.
William had urged her to return to her life and to forget about him, but how could she stop her body from remembering the passion in his touch or her desire for more? How could she consider becoming another man’s wife?
“From the expression on ye face, daughter,” her mother began with a knowing look on her own face, “ye are not thinking on young James’s kiss or his proposal.”
She let out a sigh and touched Brienne’s cheek. “Ye father thinks ye have been spending time with the strangers ye encountered on their way here to Yester. A knight named William?”
“You know about them?” she asked. Her father had promised not to tell her.
“Ye father and I keep no secrets from each other, Brienne. He worried about the attractive, young knight who seemed interested in our daughter. Ye cannot expect that he would not tell me of such matters and ask my counsel in how to best protect our daughter.”
Her mother stood and walked over to a shady place among the trees, away from the other women who also washed there by the stream, waving her over. Brienne followed and sat at her mother’s side. Her mother turned her and began to untangle and then make a new braid in her hair.
“It must seem exciting to have someone new, someone from outside the village, pay attention to ye. And when that someone is a handsome, strong, young knight, it is difficult to keep things in order.” Her mother’s hands rested for a moment and then began anew, weaving the long plaits together in one braid. “Whatever brings him to Yester will also take him away. And ye place will remain here. The excitement of the moment cannot replace a lifetime of commitment.”
“Mother, there are things . . .”
“Hush now and pay me heed. He will leave. Ye will stay. And ye will bear the cost if ye allow him what ye should not.” She tied the bottom off with a strip of leather and patted her shoulders. “Sometimes we have no choice. I suspect the woman who birthed ye had none. But do not allow the excitement and interest of such a man to spin yer head until ye make bad choices.”
Her mother had never once referred to Brienne’s parentage. She had never brought up the subject of Lord Hugh willingly.
“Men of power use and cast aside, whether that be women or tools or playthings they no longer want. Remember that, Brienne. Men of power use.”
“Mother, I—”
“It is just a little advice for ye, love,” her mother said, standing behind her. “Now, let’s carry the washing back to the cottage.”
With nothing else to say, Brienne followed along, helping through the rest of the day but not without noticing the glances that her parents shared.
It was only in the dark of the night that Brienne allowed herself to relive those few moments of fearless passion. She knew she should have refused him and rebuffed his advances. She should have at least attempted to push him away.
She had not. Instead she’d allowed him to touch her and to kiss her and to hold her. Brienne knew there would be nothing between them, and no amount of hoping would make it different. Yet those few stolen moments of passion would be in her memory forever. If she had to give him up, if whatever was coming parted them, at least she had those memories to enjoy.
As she lay on her pallet on the night of the most strange and incredible day of her life, Brienne wondered at the path her life would take. Would all of this pass when William completed his task and left? Or would the growing danger she could sense rise up and claim them all? Though the door and window shutters were closed, a chill wind passed through the cottage, sending shivers of dread through her.
Danger. Danger was close and getting closer.
Brienne just never expected it to arrive so quietly at her door the next morning.
William sat near the fire, watching Roger and Gautier trying to accept all that he had shared. They’d seen him transform into something else when Brienne was threatened. They’d seen his arm become a weapon and yet still be part of him. And they both told him how his body grew and turned blue, like ice, as he went on the attack.
“Berserker,” Gautier had whispered afterward. They’d all grown up hearing the legends of old, especially since their Norman ancestors began as Norsemen in the Viking north before moving to France’s warmer shores. Berserkers were humans, taken over by the power of the god of war. They fought without thought or concern, often continuing to fight even when they had grave injuries. Some whispered that old priests gave warriors a nectar to make them change into these battlefield giants.
But William had taken no nectar or concoction. He did not believe in the old gods, be they Norse or the ones that Marcus claimed as his, the older Celtic ones. He was a warrior and not a berserker. And yet he did not remember anything that happened from the time he heard Brienne’s voice in his head, screaming his name, until she said his name in Marcus’s camp.
William drank more of the wine and waited for his friends to give their answer. He must move in the morning and wished to have them at his back. But after this morning and what they claimed they’d seen, he did not know that they would be there.
“Will you change again?” Roger asked, drinking the last of his wine down in one mouthful. “Into . . . whatever you were?”
“I know not,” he answered truthfully. “I know not how it happened, nor what happened.”
“She caused it,” Gautier said, nodding at both of them.
“Do not blame Brienne.”
“I am not placing blame, Will. I think you changed because you knew she was in danger. The old berserkers needed the call of battle to enrage them. You, well, it looks like all you need is her.”
William could not argue with him. He knew that both times he’d felt some change come over him had involved her. The first time, when he’d watched her and the young man from the forest. This second time when she’d called out to him somehow. Both times she’d needed to be protected. Both times he’d needed to protect and claim her. And each time the change pushed him further than the last. How far would it go?
“What did the old man tell you? When you spoke?” Gautier asked.
“He . . .” William looked at each of them and leaned in closer so no one would hear their words. “He said they worship the old gods and that there is a war coming between good and evil. And they want me to lead them.”
The silence was heavy and foreboding as it settled around them. It sounded even more foolish and maniacal when spoken aloud like that. How could a sane man believe any of it?
“She, the girl with the strange gaze, knew about your father,” Roger said. “Your true father, the king. I know that was whom she referred to being in danger. Do you think it’s true?”
“Do not speak of such things!” he warned. “I would not jeopardize what little chance I have by exposing it.”
“Will.” Gautier shook his head, then glanced over to the gathering of men near the tents and back at him. “It is the worst-kept secret at court. Those over there who know not the truth suspect it. Your mother was not the most discreet woman among the king’s . . . favorites.”
“You did not answer me, friend,” Roger said. “Is the king in some kind of danger from this?” He motioned with his hand in the direction of Hugh’s castle.
William had thought on that all day, while watching Brienne return to her village and while finalizing his plans. And he knew the truth of it—if the king suspected Hugh of some duplicity, it would not be difficult to imagine that Hugh knew of his suspicions. And if treason was in the air, the king was in grave danger.
“Aye, he is.”
“So no matter if we understand everything at hand or if we simply carry out the orders the king gave you, his safety is part of this?” Roger clarified.
“Aye,” he said, nodding at them.
Roger stood and dusted off his legs. “Then we have no choice but to carry out his orders and find out the heart of the matter. My mother’s mother used to tell stories about the old gods, but I know not whether they exist. It matters not. The king’s safety is the only thing.”
When he said it that way, William’s path became clear—meet Hugh, seek out his plans, and report back to the king. William stood and shook hands with both of them. A huge weight seemed to disappear from his body and soul now that he knew his friends would guard his back and be by his side in whatever happened.
“When do we go?” Gautier asked as he stood.
“I think midday. Four of us with the others at the ready.”
“Will he invite us in?” Roger asked.
“I come from the king. Not offering us hospitality would be an insult. So, aye, I think he will. If for nothing else than to discover our reasons for being here.”
“Do you think he knows we are here?”
William thought on the sight of Lord Hugh below in the valley, staring up at him and laughing. “Aye, he knows. Any man who controls his lands as Hugh does knows every time a stranger steps across the lines of his property. He knows.”
“I will post extra guards,” Gautier said as they walked to their tent. “And I think it should be Armand who comes with us.”
Armand was the best fighter after William, even better in battle than Roger, Gautier, or Herve. He was better at seeing patterns in dangerous situations than Roger and able to use his head as well as his sword. “Very well. Tell him on the morrow.”
The camp settled down for the night and a chill wind ripped through the tents, making some of the men shiver aloud. William felt it, and he needed no priest of the old gods or the one true God to tell him what his battle-ready gut could explain quite simply from experience— it was a harbinger of danger.
Even with so many unknown people and possibilities facing them, William slept well that night, as he always did before going into battle. His dreams did not show him battle plans though. Instead visions of a lass with black hair and amber eyes teased him through the long night. And the taste of her mouth, the feel of her soft flesh in his hands and against his body felt so real, he woke with his own flesh hard and ready to pleasure her.
Unfortunately, she was not to be his. And never could be.
As he rose and began to prepare to ride into Yester, he prayed that she was safe in the village and would stay out of his dealings with her lord. And he hoped that Gavin would keep her safe.
Chapter Eleven
Brienne walked back from the well and along the path and never noticed the man standing in front of their cottage. But others had. She heard the murmurs growing as she got closer and looked up. But no one would meet her gaze, and everyone appeared to be interested in something else.
The man, the warrior, standing at her door stared only at her. She’d seen him before, at Lord Hugh’s side, both as they went about their business in Yester and whenever the lord rode out. Eudes was his name, and he bore a long scar on one cheek and down his neck, which added to his frightening appearance.
“You, girl,” he called out as he pointed at her. “You are to come with me now.”
Her heart pounded in fear. A summons to the castle was never good and usually deadly. Had Lord Hugh discovered she’d been with the strangers? Had someone reported her actions to him? Glancing around, she saw no one willing to help her.
“Why?” she asked, trying to delay in hopes that someone would scurry off and find her parents. “Where are you taking me?”
The words were not enough to stop him. He walked over to her and grabbed her arm in his meaty hand. His expression showed his surprise that any person here would question his order.
“You will find out when we get there.” Then, with a nod to others she’d not noticed, he pulled her along with him, his long legs covering the ground at a much faster pace than she could keep. Soon she was running, and when she could no longer do that, he dragged her as if he had not realized. Through the village, to the gates, and then over the bridge into the castle yard, they went at a relentless pace.
“Sir. Please.” She tried to pry his fingers loose so she could slow down and catch her breath. “A bit slower, I pray you.”
“My lord does not brook delays when he gives orders,” he barked out at her. “He wants to see you now, and I will not answer to his anger if I take too long getting there.”
She gave up then and found another soldier at her side, clutching her other arm and forcing her to keep up with them. None of the villagers even glanced at her as they passed by. Those living inside the walls of the castle and keep went about their tasks, taking no notice of the young woman being dragged within. As they passed the walls, doors, corridors, and stairs, Brienne knew she would never find her way out if she could escape. Then they reached what she thought was the third story in the farthest of the two sections of the keep and came to a stop.
When they released her, she crumpled to her knees, unable to breathe from both exertion and from the fear that was taking hold of her now. She’d been inside the keep a few times, coming with Gavin to deliver work to the steward in the great hall. But this chamber, on a high floor, was a place to which no one from the village was invited.
A few minutes passed, and no one attempted to help her to her feet or assist her in any way. The soldiers who’d escorted her stood in silence near the doorway, and Eudes stared out a window in the one wall. Pushing herself to her feet, she decided it was better to meet her fate standing than groveling on the floor. Brienne brushed the dirt from her gown and pushed the now-loosened tendrils of hair back out of her sweating face. The chamber was small, but the rushes on the floor were clean and fresh. A large chair sat at one end of the room, opposite the doorway. No other furniture was present. She glanced around to see if anyone waited outside in the corridor. Now each passing moment added to her fear. What did Lord Hugh want with her? Why bring her to what looked to be the family’s section of the keep? Eudes frowned at her when she moved.
Then, without warning, he was there, in the doorway. Larger than she remembered him to be and younger, as well. He entered with the vigor of youth and not the age she knew he must be. How had he changed?
“Girl!” Eudes barked out as he shoved her back down to her knees. “My lord,” he said, as he bowed. “I brought her as you commanded.”
“Eudes, help her to her feet and get out,” Lord Hugh said in a softer voice than she’d imagined he would use.
Barely a second passed before she found herself standing alone in the center of the chamber before her true father. She kept her gaze down, not daring to meet his. He circled her slowly, and she felt his intense stare as though he touched her, gliding over her body and face.
“Come.”
With nothing more than that, he walked from the chamber into the corridor and away. Her hesitation lasted a breath, and she followed him. No one else was present. The chambers they passed were empty, and the silence was interrupted only by the sounds of their feet moving along the stone floor. The chamber they entered was the last one before the stairway. Larger than the first one, this had a long table with many stools and chairs around it. But it was as empty as the first one until he clapped his hands.
