A Knight for Love (21 page)

“Good morrow,” he replied. “You slept well?” As usual, he was his usual pleasant self. His unperturbed manner reassured Alyna somewhat.

“We fight?” She asked him fearfully, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Of a sort.”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “How is that?”

He shrugged. “No one is in danger. We’re trying to distract Philippa and her men.”

“What is being thrown?”

“Oh.” He smiled and began to recite, ticking off his fingers as each one was named. “Two dead horses. A half rotted goat carcass. Burning logs. A barrel of slops. A—”

“I understand,” she
squeaked, raising her hand to halt him in his recital. She had no desire to hear more for verily, it ruined her appetite for breakfast.

From the relative safety of her perch by the fire, Alyna could
catch a glimpse of what was happening. The morning fog still hung in the air, twining about the trees and smudging the bodies of the men as they went about their duties preparing the trebuchet for the next assault. Apparently, their initial aim had not been accurate, for several piles of kindling, pork fat and blood littered the ground short of the target.

She cast her
gaze about, searching for Warin. She found him easily for he stood half a head taller than most of the others and a small crowed surrounded him as he conversed with Gerard.

She rested her eyes on him for a few moments, marveling at his presence and the air of command h
anging about him. That he was the undisputed leader was plain to see. Pride swelled her chest and she vowed to herself that she would not disappoint him with her actions. She would make him proud of her during this time of siege.

She switched her gaze from him to the trebuchet.
The triangular wood frame base, standing mayhap three men high, held a long sturdy log at least twice as long again. A sling of empty netting dangled from one end of the throwing arm; the counterweight, a stone filled basket, hung from the other end. The arm pivoted around the base approximately one third of the way along.

With the aid of a windlass, several men w
ound down the longer end of the arm such that the net hanging from the end could be filled. A few more men did this, lugging stones from a large stockpile laid in preparation near by. When all was ready, the men paused, waiting for the next order.

“Now!” Warin’s voice, sharp with tension, speared through the air.

Someone slipped off the catch loop. Slowly at first, then with more speed as the counterweight at the other end began to plummet down, the arm flew skyward. At its peak, the netting released the load of stones and they pelted against the keep, some bouncing inside the walls and others falling harmlessly to the ground in front.

“Again!” Warin called out and the process began anew. Now Alyna
realized the defenders inside the castle lobbed stones back at them.

“Look out!” She cried out involuntarily as a boulder came close to those men manning the trebuchet. Seemingly unperturbed, they carried on with their task and soon another sling full of stones was lobbed skyward.

Then the defenders let loose a hail of arrows, most of which landed uselessly some distance shy of their target. One or two, however, stabbed the ground just in front of Warin. He stepped back easily, as if it were an everyday occurrence to subject oneself to a hail of enemy shafts.

Alyna jammed her suddenly cold hands under her armpits and held her breath as another hail of arrows darkened the sky.
Even though she watched from a safe distance, danger stalked Warin.

She
did the only thing she could think of – pray. On her knees and with face uplifted so the Almighty could better hear her words.
Dieu li volt.
God wills it.

*****

Around midday, Warin called a cease to the bombardment. He gathered the men about him to recap the morning’s actions and to brief them on the plans for the morrow. The rest of the day passed without incident as they replenished the stockpiles of projectiles and made several minor repairs to the trebuchet.

Alyna’s apprehension diminished as the day progressed for it became apparent that to be the besieger was much preferred to being the besieged if for no other reason than the logistics. For them it was but a simple matter to find stones and other missiles but for those behind the walls the supply must be slim indeed.

Too, her admiration for Warin grew. Quick to make decisions and issue orders, his skill in the art of warfare, coupled with Gerard’s obvious support, provided the foundation on which the battle progressed. She wondered if he was aware of her presence at all. Nay, she decided. He focused only on the duty at hand.

Of his impact on her, there was no doubt. Her gaze returned to him again and again, each time setting her stomach to fluttering. Then she would return her regard to whatever task she was about only to lift her head a few moments later to seek him out again.

She chastised herself when she noticed the sly winks and knowing nods bandied about at her blatant admiration of Warin.

I am
as besotted as the love-struck fools in the minstrel’s verse.

But try as she might, she couldn
’t keep her eyes from straying to the tall figure until finally she gave up and flounced out of the clearing, ostensibly to look for late season berries. Bennet trailed along behind her.

Of course she found none but the search did take her out of eye shot of Warin
and gave her a chance to settle her mind.

Too
, she stumbled on a patch of mint and wasted no time in plucking a few handfuls, for it was useful against ailments of the stomach and for treatment of wounds. Returning to the camp she began preparations for the evening meal, too early mayhap but anything to keep her thoughts and eyes away from her new husband.

And for awhile it worked. But before long, her gaze once again crept about, searching for him. A thrill coursed through her as her eyes encountered his. She waved and
his answering smile rewarded her. Did she imagine it or did his face soften at seeing her? Oh, if only it were so. If only he could grow to love her as she loved him.

Nonetheless, h
is smile warmed her and with a light heart she continued readying the evening meal.

*****

And so passed the next few days, always following the same pattern. The trebuchet would be in active use during the early part of the day and all would be quiet in the afternoon while preparations were made for the following day’s assault. As well, work began on constructing the battering ram.

The defenders appeared to stand strong and even though the return volleys grew less and less, surrender did not appear to be imminent.

“I fear our foe is undisturbed with our efforts,” Gerard remarked to Warin one evening as they sat around the fire.

“Aye,” Warin inclined his head in agreement but held his silence, waiting for Gerard to spill what was on his mind.

“The weather grows colder and the Twelve Days of Christmas are fast approaching.”

“Aye.” Still Warin held his peace.

“Do you think it’s time to prove the ram?”

Warin swiveled his head to look at Gerard. He weighed his words carefully before responding. “Aye
.” He exhaled slowly, as if reluctant to cross the threshold to more active warfare.

And he was reluctant, that he knew. Could it be that his protective feelings towards Alyna
were altering his ability to wage battle? A fierce soldier would know no hesitation but he seemed unable to find the desire to proceed to the next step of their initial plan. With Alyna in camp, certainly it was safer to continue the siege. On the other hand, time passed and winter deepened and he had promised himself to get Alyna into Caperun Keep soon.

Gerard was right. The time for patience was over. It was time to make use of the ram.

“Your counsel is wise, Gerard.” He rose to his feet. “Tomorrow we test the gates. The castle must fall, the defenders be vanquished.” He started to turn then paused. “Tell the men,” he commanded, “I have something that needs attending.”

Warin strode away in search of Alyna. Now that the decision had been made to batter the gates, he had an inexplicable urge to see her.

And when he did?

For that, he had no answer.

*****

Bored, Alyna wandered along the edge of the woods. Bennet, uncharacteristically, had disappeared so she ambled alone with her brooding thoughts. Careful not to stray too far, she kept the keep to her left. Behind her lay the camp that this afternoon, for some reason, she found to be too cloistered.

Warin avoid
ed her.

Try as she might, she couldn
’t excuse his behavior, couldn’t continue to blame his continuing reticence on the siege that so occupied all of them. It was evident in the deliberate way he turned out of her way if he saw her coming, the way he avoided their bed until long after she fell asleep, rising long before she awoke.

Short of disguising herself as a trebuchet, she knew not what to do to recapture his interest.

Frustrated, she grabbed a small stone lying nearby and lobbed it towards the castle walls. It fell far short of the target but the hostile gesture made her feel better. She found another one and threw it too, trying to spin it so that it skipped across the ground.

Increasingly caught up in the game, she moved closer and pitched another stone. This one bounced and ended up beside a crushed and splintered barrel, its contents solidified into a noxious mess. She took a few more steps and bent over to pick up a round stone. It fit her hand nicely and she squeezed her fingers about it and hurled it with all her might, so much so her elbow cracked as she let it loose.

It too fell uselessly short of the target, rolling a bit before it came to rest. She looked at it for a few seconds then at the distance separat
ing her from the walls of the castle. Of course she wouldn’t endanger herself by venturing too near the walls. Besides, pitching little stones towards their enemy was a waste of time.

With a wry twist on her mouth and a shrug of the shoulders at her silliness, she turned about.

He leaned against a tree in the shadows at the edge of the woods.

Warin.

Watching her stone faced.

She stopped in her tracks. “My lord?” Her voice quavered and she hated herself for it.

“An amusing display,” he remarked, gesturing towards her futile missiles.

“What of it.” She made her voice defiant and crossed her arms.

“Naught but I would think you could find more productive ways to divert yourself.” His tone was cool, his demeanor haughty as he looked down at her.

“I had time to spare.” She glared at him. She was perfectly content to keep herself occupied and out of his way during this time of siege but for him to berate her for her choice of activities was too much.

“
Don’t forget we are at siege.”

“I
’ve not forgotten, my lord.”

“It is best for you to return to camp.” The stern command raised her ire even more.

“To do what, my lord?” Her tone was acerbic. “All is in readiness for the evening repast. I merely thought to pass the time with a walk.”

“Alyna
.” He lifted a hand in supplication.

“Aye?” she asked icily.

“I fear for your safety.”

His simple admission stunned her. “Wh-what did you say?” She stammered, unable to believe her ears.

“I fear for your safety,” he repeated, as if he needed to confirm it for himself. After pausing to take a deep breath, he continued, “Alyna, tomorrow we attack the gates. The battering ram is ready and Gerard and I have agreed that the final assault begins now.”

She kept her silence, choosing instead to rub her sore elbow so that she need not answer. Why had he come to tell her that? Surely it was of no consequence what she thought. Mayhap something else had prodded him to find her. Could it be concern for her safety, as he had said? And his avoidance of her, mayhap it was rooted in something else? Mayhap a growing love for her? Bennet had hinted it was so.

Hope flared through her anew.

Warin gestured for her to come closer. She did, her steps careful, her expression wary. He reached out and took her by the hand. His hand
lay warm against her cold one and unbidden, her fingers laced through his, seeking the additional warmth.

He bowed low and brushed his lips against her knuckles.
The courtly gesture set her heart to pounding and her knees to weaken.

“Are you pleased with our marriage?”

His question was odd, out of context.

“How can I know that,” she answered him honestly, trying to keep her wits about her for he still held her hand. “We have yet to serve as
Lord and Lady of Caperun Keep. Too, the siege occupies you and we’ve not passed much time together.” She kept her voice nonchalant but inside she shouted,
aye, aye, I am most pleased, pleased with our marriage and with you!