Love Everlasting, page 25
The sand in Michael’s hourglass moved with incredible slowness. And with each grain of sand that sifted into the lower bulb of the glass Julianna was in greater danger. Bound by his own commands, Royce could only wait and pray that she’d stay safe in the keep until he reached her.
Inside Wortham Castle, Julianna was beset by ever increasing difficulties. The children were hungry, and so restless that even Baldwin was having trouble keeping them in order. Alice was so weak that she had fainted that morning because, according to Linnet, she had been giving most of her daily ration of food to her children. When Julianna scolded her, saying she needed to keep up her strength in order to protect the young ones, Alice burst into tears and would not be comforted.
Feeling the need of a bit of comfort herself, not to mention a few moments of quiet and fresh air, Julianna disobeyed William’s order to remain inside the keep.
“Bolt the door after me,” she told Etta as she sallied forth to the inner bailey. “Do not open it again, not even if you hear my voice, not until I give this signal, so you’ll know it’s not a trick.” She knocked twice, paused, then knocked quickly three times. When her maidservant nodded her understanding of the signal, Julianna headed for the battlements.
She knew the gates would soon be forced, but in the meantime she intended to be at the best vantage point to see exactly what was happening. Hurrying across the crowded inner bailey, she reached the steps that led to the highest point of the castle wall and started up them, certain she’d find William up there. The steps seemed steeper and more tiring to climb than they’d ever been. She knew why that was. Like Alice, she had been giving a large portion of her food to the children. She was weak and gasping by the time she arrived on the walkway around the walls. There William confronted her.
“Julianna, you are a fool to venture up here!” He glared at her in frustrated annoyance. They had long ago ceased to use titles or polite, formal language with each other. After weeks of siege they were more than friends, more than lady of the castle and seneschal; they had become something akin to comrades in arms and neither of them felt the need to mince words.
“I had to see for myself,” she said, stepping to the nearest crenel.
“Get down!” William grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the opening. “It won’t be long before they reach the inner bailey. You must return to the keep while you still can. Don’t give Kenric the advantage of capturing you. If you fall into his hands, he will use you against Royce.”
“I do understand, and I’ll go in just a moment.” She leaned her head against the stone and peered down at the battering ram that sat beside the road just across from the gatehouse. “William, I want you to know how grateful I am for the fine defense you’ve mounted.”
“It’s no more than my duty.” William turned away for a moment and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “If you want to see Kenric, look through the next crenel to your left. But in the name of heaven, be careful.”
Julianna moved to the crenel that William indicated. Kenric was standing close to the battering ram, broadsword in his hand, his tense posture clearly indicating his personal eagerness to storm through the gatehouse to the bailey. Once he was inside the castle walls, one of his first acts would be to seek her out and punish her for betraying him and for interfering with his schemes. At that thought a thrill of fear stabbed through Julianna and for a heartbeat or two her hand rested over her slightly rounded abdomen.
“Go now,” William commanded her. “Don’t make me take a man away from the walls to carry you to the keep.”
Julianna delayed just a few moments more, sending a last, sad glance toward the remains of Wortham village and the wide farmlands surrounding it. Everywhere she looked she saw devastation and she blamed herself for bringing the horrors of warfare and starvation to people who did not deserve such a fate. Were it not for Royce’s child nestled deep within her body, she would have offered herself to Kenric’s vengeance in order save Wortham and its people, even as she doubted that such a sacrifice would stop Kenric or the other besiegers. They were bent upon total destruction, and they wouldn’t stop until Wortham was leveled.
“All that might have been, now will never be,” she whispered, turning to leave.
“You don’t know that,” William declared with all the stout-hearted confidence she had learned to value in him. “We may yet come out of this with whole skins.”
Julianna couldn’t speak. She swallowed hard against the sob that would have burst from her throat. William turned back to give an order to one of the men-at-arms and Julianna headed for the stairs.
Her foot was reaching toward the first step down from the walkway when a sudden, icy-hot pain lanced through her left arm. When she looked in bewilderment at the spot she saw an arrow protruding just below her shoulder. She staggered and would have fallen to the bailey below if Baldwin had not caught her on his way up the steps.
“My lady!” Baldwin shouted.
“What the devil?” William lunged toward her, dragging her back to the walkway and into the protection of the wall.
“I was coming to find her when I saw the arrow strike her,” Baldwin said. “A lucky flight for the archer, and a fortunate escape for you, my lady. That random shot could have killed you.”
“Now will you listen to my warnings and get into the keep?” William shouted at her.
“Don’t be angry,” she said very calmly. “Baldwin will escort me to safety.”
“See that she stays in the keep,” William said to Baldwin.
Oddly, Julianna was experiencing no pain, just a growing chill that extended from her wounded shoulder and arm to her throat and her heart. She remained on her feet, but never had the stairs seemed so high and steep, never before were they so treacherously narrow. With no handrail to grasp she clung to the wall, while Baldwin stayed between her and a fall that would have ended on the stones of the bailey so far - so very, very far - below.
“I can easily carry you,” Baldwin offered.
“No.” With a prayer that her knees would not buckle at her weight, Julianna placed a foot on the next step down. “I must return to the keep on my own two feet, else everyone there will take fright.”
“You are the one who ought to take fright,” Baldwin grumbled. “Don’t you know how important you are to all of us?” He glanced backward at the sound of a loud crash from the direction of the outer bailey, which was followed immediately by cheering that surely signaled the entrance of the besiegers.
Julianna did not look toward the noise. She was saving what strength she had left, concentrating on staying upright. She knew that Baldwin was restraining his usual quick gait to match her slow steps until they had crossed the bailey and reached the stairs that led up to the keep door.
Julianna looked at that staircase, knowing she’d never get to the top without help.
“If you will allow me to lean upon your arm, Sir Baldwin,” she said, “I will be most grateful.”
“It’s about time,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t refuse help when it’s offered.”
“Why not?” she asked. “Don’t men refuse help all the time?”
She knew Baldwin must have noticed how badly she was trembling. He did not ask permission before he put an arm around her waist so he could support her as they slowly climbed the steps. Above them the door was flung wide.
“Etta,” Julianna said as she stumbled through the entry, “I told you to wait for my signal before opening the door.”
“That was before Sir Baldwin went out after you,” Etta responded.
“Bar the door now,” Julianna ordered, not bothering to dispute with the maid. She needed all of her waning strength to stay on her feet.
Those in the great hall gasped and murmured in dismay at the sight of their lady with an arrow protruding from her shoulder.
“Oh, Julianna!” Alice rushed forward. “Oh, you poor thing. Baldwin, carry her to the lord’s chamber at once.”
“No.” Julianna was swaying with ever increasing giddiness, but she put out a hand to stop Alice’s well-meaning advance. “Baldwin, you are the experienced warrior here. Pluck out the arrow right here, in the hall, where all can see that I am still alive and awake.”
“Please, no, my lady,” Baldwin began. He frowned, shook his head, and backed away a step or two. “It’s not my place to handle you as roughly as that.”
“Do it now,” Julianna demanded. “Do it quickly and be done with it.”
“As you wish, then,” Baldwin said, capitulating to her superior rank and her determination. “Etta, bring a pitcher of unwatered wine and a roll of clean linen. Lady Alice, where’s the sharp knife you’ve been using to cut away cloth from around wounds?”
Within a few moments Julianna, who was by now extremely dizzy and who knew she was no longer entirely coherent in either thought or words, felt herself being pushed down onto one of the trestle tables. Alice took one of her hands and Etta grasped the other. Julianna knew what would happen next; for weeks she’d been doing the same job that Baldwin must now perform upon her, the unpleasant but necessary task of pulling arrows out of punctured flesh. She set her jaw and waited for the pain she knew would come before the wound could be cleaned and bandaged.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Baldwin said.
With one big hand he held Julianna’s injured shoulder down on the table, keeping it there securely. She saw his grim face above her and noticed the quick movement of his other hand as he grasped the shaft of the arrow and pulled.
In a swirl of blackness Julianna’s senses left her. When she opened her eyes again she saw that the left sleeve of her gown had been cut away and a weeping, sniffling Alice was bathing her shoulder with wine. Etta stood nearby with a linen bandage ready.
“Drink some of this,” Baldwin said as soon as the women were finished with her. He lifted her head and offered a cup of wine. Julianna drank, then choked and sputtered while Baldwin watched her with satisfaction lighting his harsh features. “It’s unwatered. It’s as good for washing out your stomach as your wound. I have a basin ready, if you need it.”
“I am not going to be sick,” Julianna said, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Baldwin. Now, help me to stand.”
“I’ll carry you to your room,” Baldwin said.
“I will walk there on my own two feet and thus show everyone here that I am not badly wounded,” she declared.
“You are as stubborn as Lord Royce. And as courageous.” Shaking his head, Baldwin helped her off the trestle table and waited until she had steadied herself. He stayed close beside her, one hand extended to catch her if she should fall, while Julianna slowly walked around the hall, speaking to the frightened people of castle and village.
This, she knew, was what Royce would do if he were similarly wounded. Then he, being a man, would no doubt return at once to his duty of directing the defense from the battlements. Julianna knew she wasn’t strong enough to climb again up the steps to the top of the wall. In any case, William was in charge of defending the castle in Royce’s absence, and he had done a fine job of it so far. Julianna’s duty was to hearten the folk who were barricaded within the keep. She paused in the middle of the great hall and raised her good right arm. A respectful silence fell almost immediately.
“You see me wounded, but alive and undefeated,” she said, proud that her voice sounded surprisingly strong and clear with only the slightest tremor in it. “We will not submit to traitors! We will continue to fight!” She said much more, though later she could not recall exactly what she had said. It was enough that everyone in the hall shouted hearty agreement with her.
Then the cook sent out kettles of soup for the midday meal. It was thin soup, made from the third rendering of the bones of the very last chicken, flavored mostly with dried herbs and with a few turnips and onions added. But it was hot, and Julianna drank her cup gratefully. She ignored the growling sounds by which her stomach demanded more substantive food.
Only when the brief meal was ended did she accept Baldwin’s repeated offer of assistance to climb the stairs to the lord’s chamber and to the blessed privacy of her bed. She refused the cup of wine Alice brought to her, certain that Alice had laced it with herbs or poppy syrup to make her sleep. She slept all the same, in spite of the ache in her wounded shoulder, and she did not waken until repeated blasts of a trumpet roused her.
The days grew longer in early May. Even so, the shadows were lengthening by the time the sand finally ran out in Michael’s hourglass.
“Now,” Royce said to Brian, and the squire promptly lifted the trumpet to his lips and blew several long notes. Before the sound ended Royce was spurring his horse toward the castle gates, leading the charge to regain his own home.
He took advantage of the temporary bridge over the moat, deftly guiding his mount to avoid the deserted battering ram. As he rode through the gatehouse and into the outer bailey, he saw at once that the inner gate stood open. Without slowing he galloped through the second gatehouse to the inner bailey, where the light was all but gone. There, on the ground or up on the walkway around the walls, men were engaged in hand-to-hand combat by torchlight. In such close quarters archers were useless, so it was broadswords and knives and battle axes and, occasionally, mailed fists on chins or heads butting into stomachs.
Royce rode straight to the keep steps, laying about him with his sword as he progressed, making combatants move aside to let his horse pass. Up on the small porch at the top of the staircase he saw a huge man in leather armor, who was repeatedly ramming his shoulder against the keep door. With a wild yell, Royce leapt from his horse, landing halfway up the steps and then knocking to the ground anyone who stood in his way. His mind was all aflame with the knowledge that Julianna was somewhere within the keep, in danger of her very life.
The man at the top of the steps met him with a snarl. One slash of Royce’s sword sent him off the landing, clearing it of enemies. Then Royce placed his back against the keep door and fought off anyone who dared to advance up the steps. Michael soon joined him, fighting with surprising zest and strength, considering his old injuries. A few steps below Michael, Brian employed his short squire’s sword with equal vigor.
As the first red haze of battle fury began to clear Royce noticed Cadwallon leading his men through the inner gate on foot, having gained the bailey by way of the breach in the castle wall. Arden stood on the battlements pounding William on the back and grinning, while Braedon’s squire waved Royce’s red and gold banner for all to see and Braedon shouted for the erstwhile besiegers to surrender or die.
The men who were trying to fight their way up the keep steps paused and then retreated. When they reached the bailey, Cadwallon’s people quickly disarmed them. All over the bailey and the walls, knights and men-at-arms were laying down their swords.
All except one. Kenric stepped out of the crowd with his broadsword still in his hand, his scowling face dirty beneath his helm, his chainmail stained with blood. His appearance was so fierce that those near him moved away until Kenric stood alone in the center of a small open space.
“Well now, Royce,” Kenric shouted, “have you come to defend your traitorous wife?”
“Julianna is an honest woman,” Royce declared in a loud voice. “You are the traitor, Kenric.”
“Can you prove that claim?” Kenric laughed, a false, forced sound, and Royce understood that he felt cornered, as a hunted animal is cornered by hounds and armed hunters. Being Kenric, he wasn’t going to give up; being cornered, he was going to fight to the death.
“I challenge you, Royce. Come down here and fight for your lady’s honor.”
“By all means,” Royce said. “Let us finish this quarrel now.”
“Be careful, Royce,” Michael urged as Royce passed him on the steps. “Kenric will try to kill you, but we need him alive, so we can wring the entire truth out of him, along with the names of his associates.”
“Leave Kenric to me,” Royce said through tight lips. He had grown calm again, and he knew Michael was right, but he could not allow anyone, least of all Kenric, to abuse Julianna’s name. Any slur upon her honor reflected on him. He had no choice; he had to answer Kenric’s challenge.
Chapter 17
Julianna reached the great hall before Baldwin caught up with her.
“My lady, I beg you, go back,” Baldwin cried. “The fighting isn’t over yet.”
“Yes, it is!” Etta yelled, all but tumbling down the steps to the hall in her excitement. She was followed by most of the older children. “I looked out through an arrow slit and saw Lord Royce’s banner. He has come to save us! Lord Royce is here!”
“Lord Royce! Lord Royce!” The women and the few old men in the hall took up the chant and all of them rushed as one to the keep door, to unbolt it.
“Stop!” Baldwin shouted. “It may be a ruse to make us open to the invaders.”
“Do as Sir Baldwin says,” Julianna cried. “Wait until Sir William sends a message to tell us it’s safe to go outside.”
They couldn’t hear her over the uproar and she wasn’t sure they’d have paid attention to her if they had heard. The keep door was flung open and everyone rushed out to the bailey. Julianna was carried along with the rejoicing women and Baldwin was left behind to fight a hopeless delaying action against the children, who also were eager to see what was happening.
Julianna pushed away from the crowd, letting everyone else run down the stairs while she stopped at the little porch just outside the door. From that position she could look down to the inner bailey, and she noticed some familiar faces. Michael came up the steps to join her. His chainmail coif was pushed back and he displayed a bloody gash on one cheek, but he was grinning and he looked remarkably healthy.
“I am so glad you are safe,” she said, though her thoughts were not really on him. She was seeking a different male figure.
