Knight's Lady, page 5
part #1 of Tenebrae Series
Alex grunted, then continued, “Reubair is a faerie lord, vassal to the elfin king Nemed, and he leads a band of mercenaries making raids in the Borderlands. We’ve got to go there to get Lindsay back. Neither Morpeth nor Trefor can know we’ve gone until we’re away. Tonight.”
Patrick nodded, but his expression was still grim. “The travel will kill you.”
“No, it won’t. No more than lying here would.”
“It could.”
“Get the men, Patrick. The four best swordsmen, and a fisherman to take us.” Alex was tired of arguing.
The young priest thought for a moment, nodded again, and left the chamber. Alex lay back with his eyes closed to rest as long as he could, and Mary came to clean and redress his wound.
He called for his page, and when Gregor came he gestured for the boy to come close. Gregor’s eyes were wide and glistening, holding tears that spilled the next time he blinked. The blond eight-year-old bent to hear his foster father, and Alex told him, “You’ll stay here. Care for the dogs, and if I don’t return they will be yours.”
The seriousness of the situation was dark concern in the boy’s eyes. Alex was continually surprised by the gravity of children in this time. Gregor often struck him as more man than boy. “You’re leaving without the puppies?” He hesitated, then added, “And me?”
“I can only take a few men with me. It’ll be weapons and bedrolls for us on this adventure, moving too fast for wagons and servants. And no unruly puppies. You’re big enough to understand that.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Good boy. And tell no one where we’ve gone tonight. Go to your bed, and when they discover we’ve gone you tell them you were ordered to bed and never saw us leave. Which will be the truth.”
“Aye, my lord.” With that, his eyes wide with apprehension, Gregor bowed and left the room.
***
The fire was dying and night outside the window was pitch-black when Patrick came to help Alex from his bed. His wound was agony, and every movement sharpened it until he could barely breathe. He struggled not to lean on the priest, but his legs wouldn’t hold him up. The stairs to the Great Hall loomed like Everest. It was going to be a long climb.
He made it to the landing, then stopped to catch his breath before turning to face the long ascent. There, at the top of the steps beneath a large, flickering torch in a sconce, sat Trefor, elbows on knees and gazing down at Alex and Patrick.
“Going somewhere?”
Alex didn’t reply. Patrick only watched Alex for a cue.
Trefor said, “You shouldn’t kill yourself just to prove something to me.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
The look on Trefor’s face told him how transparent the lie was. “You won’t be much good to her if you’re dead.”
“I’m no good at all to her here.”
“There is that, I suppose.” Trefor shrugged as if he didn’t care what Alex did, but it was also a lie Alex could see through. Trefor continued, “Don’t worry about being backstabbed. I’ll look out for your interests with Robert as well as your men.”
Alex couldn’t help giving away his skepticism with a tilt of his head. The more Trefor insisted, the less Alex believed. But all he said was, “Good.”
“Really.”
“Try anything, and I’ll come after you with a crossbow.”
“Alex—”
“I mean it.”
Trefor went silent, his mouth pressed closed. Then he said, “Aye, my lord.” He rose and left the stairs. Alex and Patrick proceeded on their way, up the stairs, and out to the barbican where they joined the four other men who would go with them to the mainland to find Lindsay.
***
Lindsay fought her captors the entire way to wherever it was these men were taking her. At first they tried to keep her by binding only her hands, but as soon as she gained her feet she ran and they had to chase her down in the western forest of Eilean Aonarach. Though she shouted for help, no farm was near enough for anyone to hear her. The knights bound her feet, but once she was thrown over a horse she wriggled free. They wound ropes around her skirts, and she struggled all the same, cursing and shouting for help. Finally she was gagged, silenced, and held immobile, and when they reached the beach she was thrown into the bottom of a boat like a sack of rocks. For their irritation, they were a bit more rough about it than they might have been. They muttered to each other in their faerie old tongue as they cast off, and their tone made it clear they thought she was being unreasonable in her resistance.
It was a trip of two days, and on the second day they let her sit up on a plank bench, bound to it and gagged. God knew who would hear her this far out on the sea, but they kept the filthy rag tied inside her mouth day and night, except when they fed her. She looked around at the faerie knights who didn’t bother to hide their pointed ears. Brazen men, they were, wearing enchanted armor that never oxidized or bore dirt, letting their Danann ears show like badges. They spoke always in the old tongue, casually and with no heed to her beyond that she not leap from the boat and drown herself.
They certainly had no regard for her. They ignored her as if she were baggage and only spoke to her in Middle English to direct her to do something. They fed her sufficiently but gave her the impression it was grudging. As if they were under orders to guard her health and deliver her in one piece. She ate, slept, and abided until there might be an opportunity to escape. When they removed her gag, she knew they must be far from habitation and her hope waned.
A chance to escape never came. When the boat landed on a rocky shore, the group set off in a westerly direction. The land was green. Everywhere Lindsay looked, varying shades of green met her eye, brighter than the islands of Scotland and less rocky. Every so often, off in the distance, she would see a wisp of mist, and as they traveled those foggy spots came closer. Soon they thickened and joined each other, and then Lindsay found herself peering around in it. Hills became shadows, and outcrops of gray granite were ghosts that appeared and disappeared as the horses wended their way along the path. Trees loomed, then were erased behind them as if they’d never been there.
Then, far more suddenly than when they’d entered it, the cluster of knights emerged from the mist to sunlight. As if escaping from a solid thing, Lindsay looked behind to find a perfectly even bank of gray fog that ran like the Great Wall of China from horizon to horizon. A chill skittered up her spine, for this was not natural. It smacked so loudly of magic — very powerful magic — that she now feared what might happen to her. None of the faeries she knew who were this powerful were creatures she wanted dealings with. She didn’t think even Danu herself — the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann — was this powerful anymore.
The expedition plunged into forest. She shivered as she rode and anticipated meeting the magical being who was her captor.
Four
Another day of travel, and Lindsay figured she wasn’t getting away easily even if she were to break free of her bonds. By now her wrists were raw and bleeding, and every muscle in her body was stiff from the awkward position of her shoulders. Riding like this was a nightmare of struggling to not fall off, and if she did it was certain these faeries would simply throw her across the horse’s back again and move on. So she held her seat as best she could, and hoped there would be relief soon.
It came when they arrived at a castle. An enormous, rambling construction of stone that shone like fanciful depictions she’d seen of Camelot. Not metallic, exactly, but gray stone with glints of shiny bits that picked up the sun and threw rays even in this overcast day.
“Where are we?”
The faerie knights didn’t reply. Didn’t even look at her. She sighed and watched the castle grow nearer. Its size was astonishing, compared to her own home where the keep was only a few rooms. This complex seemed to sprawl across the dale, and several towers rose from its center. It was in pristine condition and appeared new. She thought it might very well be, and wondered if they could be in Wales, where Edward I had been busy constructing fortresses in recent decades. An intact castle built by Edward would mean they were in English territory, for most of the garrisons captured by Robert had been torn down over the past couple of years. Even Edinburgh and Stirling had not been spared, for Robert was loath to risk having them recovered by the English king and used against him.
But this castle didn’t seem very English. It was too smooth. Too perfect. Too shiny. It was in keeping with the glinting armor of the knights who held her. Edward hadn’t built this. Nobody human could have. Not in this century.
Then it came to her: the conversation she’d had with Reubair when he’d proposed marriage to her and told her of lands he held in Ireland. Hidden places no human could find. He’d said Ireland was much larger than any map would ever show, for there was a domain in which the so-called “wee folk” ruled. Where he ruled. A sick, sinking feeling stole over her, and she guessed who she was going to find behind this raid.
The riders passed through the gate and into the streets of the town where the common folk lived. Some folks gathered to greet the newcomers, with a familiarity that suggested they were friends and relatives. Others hung back but watched as the cluster made its way toward the keep that towered over the closely built shops and houses. Shortly the knights and their prisoner arrived in the bailey outside the keep.
Lindsay was hauled from her horse and shoved in the direction of a small door. She stumbled over her skirt and was shoved again. When she fell, nobody helped her to her feet, and she struggled to recover herself and move on. They waited in silence and didn’t shove her again. Too inconvenient to wait again, she supposed.
Through the door into the keep they went, down some steps into a tiny chamber more dank than one might have imagined by the structure above. Apparently the Danann love of shine and cleanliness didn’t extend to their dungeons. They went through a labyrinth of equally filthy chambers, through this door and that door, until Lindsay was quite lost. The chambers were empty of people, but in some of them stood tables scattered with tools. Lindsay was afraid to look too closely at the implements, for she guessed they were not kitchen utensils. Then finally they came to a chamber barely the size of a London water closet. A cell, with no opening except the door, in which was a ragged peephole barred with iron that did not shine.
One of the men grabbed her and cut the ropes binding her hands to her waist. Without ceremony or preamble of any kind her dress was also cut from her, ripped and yanked off by those who had brought her there.
“Hey!” She tried to twist away, but her guard held her firm and didn’t seem to care whether his knife sliced fabric or skin. The dress, shift, and drawers all were taken from her, her headdress pulled off, and her jewelry taken, including her wedding ring and the ruby necklace she’d worn to impress the king’s messenger. Finally, as naked as the day she was born, she was shoved into a corner of the small chamber, and her kidnappers left. The door thudded shut, and there was a loud clank of a key lock from the outside.
She held a palm to her throat, where the necklace had been, knowing the thing was gone forever. It had been a special gift from Alex, a holdout from an early reward from Robert, given to her at a time when he could hardly have afforded such a costly thing. Even now it was beyond their means, but he’d never sold it and had insisted she keep it. Now it was gone. With the wedding ring. Her fingers absently rubbed the spot where the ring had been, for it felt more naked than the rest of her. She never took that off, even when alone with Alex. Especially when alone with Alex. Now it was gone.
This place was all darkness, for there was no torch in the preceding chamber and the peephole was as dark as the solid walls. And cold, for there was no straw, nor even dirt on the floor. A cubicle of stone, as bare as herself. She felt around, to be sure there was no breach in the walls, then sat on the floor to wait. The thought struck her she might be left there to die, and a skittering of terror danced over her spine, but she tamped it down with a deep breath. They’d brought her here for a reason, otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered and would have killed her back on Eilean Aonarach. Instead, they’d fed her and made certain she would be in more or less good condition on her arrival here. They intended something for her, and they would make sure she stayed alive for it. So she dabbed tenderly at the sores on her wrists and waited. Eventually she dozed.
There was no telling how long she waited, except by the growling of her stomach. Long enough for her to be very hungry, but not long enough for that hunger to pass into starvation. Hours but not days. The cold had gained inroads on her, and the shivering was constant by the time she heard the rattle of a key.
The door opened, and Lindsay pulled in her legs to hug her knees in an attempt to cover herself. She squinted at the torchlight outside, shading her eyes against it to see a tall silhouette over her. The man reached behind for the torch, brought it into the room, and Lindsay finally saw who her captor was. As she had guessed.
“An Reubair.”
“Sir Lindsay.” His voice was flat. Expressionless. “Welcome to Castle Finias.”
She leaned her head back against the wall behind her, gazed up at him, and didn’t bother to stand. A welter of questions flurried through her mind, but she asked none of them, for she was certain she wouldn’t like any of the answers. A long silence spun out.
Finally he said, “Did they treat you properly on your journey?”
“Properly, as in, did they take me away from my home and my husband, chase me down, tie me up so I bled, then rip my clothing from me and leave me here to grow cold and hungry? Why, yes, you wanker, it’s been a most enjoyable holiday.”
“They didn’t feed you?”
For a moment she debated not replying but decided that would get her nowhere with him. “I’m not starved.”
“You’re not dangerously injured?”
“No.”
“Then you were treated properly.” He said it with the bland, aristocratic conviction of someone who didn’t care much what anyone else thought about anything.
“All right, Reubair, why? Why am I here?”
“Because I want you here.”
“I’ve gathered that. What is it you want from me? I mean, besides children.”
“Nothing. ’Tis the children I desire.”
“So now it’s rape. You’ll recall, the last man to rape me ended up with his genitalia dropped into a cook fire.”
“Jenkins was an idiot. You and I will be married, for the children must be legitimate.”
There was a bit of cognitive dissonance, then Lindsay remembered Reubair was a Christian. He wore a gold cross around his neck, hung from a heavy gold chain. A little weird, to her mind, but she figured a faerie could believe whatever a human could and it was his own business.
But, even weirder, Reubair knew about Alex and knew she was not free to marry. “We’ve been over this; I’ve already got a husband.”
“An Dubhar is dead.”
The room suddenly became too cold to bear. Shivering took her, and she began to struggle for air. “No. He’s not dead.” Not possible. Unthinkable.
“He surely is. And once I have confirmation of it, you and I will be married.”
Lindsay’s eyes narrowed at him. He sounded utterly certain she would heave over and marry him, and that Alex was the only thing keeping her from it. “You can forget that. I won’t marry you, Reubair.”
“You will.”
“No, I won’t. So bring me some clothing, give me a horse, and I’ll be on my way. There’s no chance I’ll agree to marry you.”
He snorted. “Oh, I realize you’ll never agree. I can’t expect that, and don’t know that it matters. My priest will marry us, and once we’re wed you will be my wife.” He explained no further, and Lindsay was puzzled that he seemed to think no further explanation was necessary.
“Not without my consent."
Now it was his turn to appear puzzled. “Consent has naught to do with it.”
“Such a marriage would not be valid.”
“Indeed, it would. And will. You’ll be my wife and will be obligated to bear my children. My heir.”
Lindsay was gobsmacked. A memory of something Alex had said some time ago wriggled its way to the surface of her mind. He’d once told her he could force her to marry him. Back before she’d agreed to it, he’d said Hector had urged him to force her into marriage. She’d not believed it possible — had thought Alex was having her on — but now Reubair was saying the same thing. “Marriage by force?”
“Aye. As ‘valid,’ as you say, as any in the eyes of God.” Which, of course, in these days where secular life was little differentiated from the religious, meant it was the law.
The walls of this close cell closed in even more. Lindsay’s mind boggled. A long scream rose, but she swallowed it in silence and shivered harder than ever. It was a struggle to control her breathing. She wanted to leap up and scratch Reubair’s eyes from his face, but only dug her nails into her palms. Her mind raced for an out, and she brightened when she found one.
“Robert won’t stand for it. If Alex is dead...” Her eyes shut for a moment to blot out the image. “If he’s dead, then my guardianship reverts to the king along with all of Alex’s property. He decides who or whether I can marry.”
“He’ll agree to it, particularly since it will be already accomplished by the time he hears. No question. You’re neither rich enough nor well enough connected for His Majesty to care much what happens to you now that Alasdair an Dubhar is gone. So long as I ask for no dowry, he’ll be happy to have me take you off his hands. Particularly since his coffers have never been full and his military campaigns are expensive.”
Lindsay’s heart sank, for she knew it was true. She had no family in this century other than Alex. Her cover story about being from Hungary had her as being without parents, dowry, or influence. She just wasn’t important enough for Robert to fuss about, and Reubair was certainly wealthy enough to buy off the needy king. All she could do was stare at her captor and hug her knees.
