Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (12 page)

The party traveled
deep into the night, eventually to come upon Harbottle Castle just as dawn
began to break. As the sun rose and the fog turned from dark mist to puffy
silver clouds, the pale gray stones of Harbottle Castle took on a cold and
harsh countenance.  

Toby was still awake,
still with the sleeping Ailsa in her arms, as her gaze beheld the seat of the
Harbottle Common lordship. In all of her years at Forestburn, she’d never once
traveled far enough to see the castle. She’d never had any reason to. Now, as
they passed through the small village and the castle loomed into view, she
thought it looked very uninviting. It was a massive place with at least three
stone towers that she could count, probably more, and a keep that stretched
into the fog.  She couldn’t even see the top. It occurred to her that it would
now be her residence until such time as she returned to Forestburn.

She did not get a good
feeling from the place.

***

Wallace Worthington
Magnusson had been a priest many years ago.  But he had committed the
unspeakable sin of falling in love with a woman and the Jesuits exiled him.
Before he had been a priest, however, he had been a knight, and a very good
one. So he had returned to the knighthood only to realize that he did not have
the stomach for killing any longer. Then, whilst drowning his sorrows one night
at a tavern, he managed to save the life of a young knight named Tate de Lara
and from that moment on, the two had been unquestionably linked.

So the dishonored
priest was given the job of majordomo at young de Lara’s Harbottle holding and
it was this hairy bear of a man who greeted the party from Cartingdon Parrish.
Standing on the steps of the keep, he looked like a wild-man who lived in the
forest and ate bark and berries to survive. His mass of shocking white hair was
the first thing Toby noticed. It was hard to miss. As the party drew into the
bailey and the massive portcullis was slammed shut behind them, she was coming
to feel uneasy and disoriented.

Tate bailed from his
charger as they near the keep and made his way back to the wagon. Kenneth and
young John were barking orders to disburse the men and Stephen was already at
the wagon by the time Tate arrived. The Hospitaller had his arms around Ailsa,
lifting her out of the wagon as Toby weakly fussed with the blanket her sister
was wrapped in.  She wanted to make sure her sister was warm enough and Stephen
assured her that the child was indeed quite warm. 

Toby looked a little lost
as the tall knight walked off with Ailsa, watching as the two of them mounted
the stairs to the towering keep. She wasn’t sure she wanted her sister out of
her sight in this foreign place, not even for a moment. The big man with the
wild hair greeted Stephen at the top of the stairs and said something to Ailsa,
to which the little girl began crying. Startled, Toby was about to climb from
the wagon herself to see what the matter was when a soft voice distracted her.

“Elizabetha,” Tate was
standing at the end of the wagon bed, patting the boards with a mailed hand.
“Slide down here, sweetheart. I will take you inside.”

“Why is Ailsa crying?”
she demanded weakly. “And who is that man? What did he say to her?”

Tate gave her a
lopsided grin and motioned her in his direction. Dutifully, and slowly, she
slid to the edge of the wagon bed. Tate already had a heavy woolen traveling
blanket in hand and he tossed it over her shoulders, wrapping her up tightly. 
When he was satisfied that she was properly covered, he scooped her into his
massive arms and walked towards the keep. 

“That man is Wallace,”
he said, eyeing the bulk of a man as he began to descend the steps towards
them. “He has run Harbottle quite ably for many years. However, he is not used
to being around women and, I am sure, unused to tact or pleasant conversation.
He simply does not know any better so you should not be upset by anything he
says.”

He turned to look at
Toby as he finished, his storm cloud-colored eyes meeting with her brilliant
hazel. There was a strange pull to the moment and a strange feeling of warmth
that settled in his veins. He remembered feeling such a thing once, years ago,
but not nearly with this intensity. The heat was so strong that it made his
palms sweat, although it was not unpleasant. In fact, he rather liked it.

“I will not tolerate
him causing my sister tears,” Toby told him with quiet firmness. “If he lacks
manners, then I shall be happy to teach him for the duration of my stay.”

Tate grinned, studying
her face, thinking he’d never in his life seen such a lovely creature. “I have
no doubt that you will,” he snorted softly.  “I fear Wallace is in for a harsh
lesson.”

Before Toby could
reply, the hairy beast of a man was upon them. He bowed swiftly to Tate and a
horrendous smell of sweat and smoke billowed up from the layers of dirty robes
he wore. Toby had to repress the urge to pinch her nose shut as his head came
up and small brown eyes focused on her. There was something intense in the deep
depths. Then he looked at Tate.

“My lord,” Wallace
greeted in a very deep, very gravelly voice. “We are honored with your
arrival.”

Tate walked past the
man, continuing up the stairs. “What chamber did you tell Stephen to put the
little girl in?”

“I did not tell him
any chamber,” Wallace followed. “We have no accommodations for womenfolk.”

Tate paused at the top
of the stairs, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Then make some.  Clean up my chamber
and put them in it.”

“But, my lord...,”
Wallace began to protest.

“Do it now,” Tate
commanded. “Clean linen on the bed, a warm fire and a hot bath.”

Tate sharply turned
his back on him and headed into the dark, dank depths of the keep. It was a
creepy place, smelling of must and spooks. Toby’s grip around Tate’s neck
instinctively tightened as he took her into the unfamiliar bowels. He could
feel her tensing in his arms.

Behind him, Wallace
was grumbling and growling as he followed. It seemed the man wasn’t finished
voicing his opinion yet about women in Harbottle.

 “My lord, we have no
clean linen,” he said pointedly. “What we have cannot be considered fitting for
females.”

Tate sighed heavily
and came to a halt. He turned to face the man. “God’s Blood, man, then go and
wash some. Hang them out to dry before a blazing fire and put some water on to
boil. If I have to command this again I swear I will throw you out on your arse
and you can find yourself another liege.”

Wallace scowled at him
but wisely held his tongue. His grizzled gaze moved between his lord and the
lady in his arms. Tate could read the man’s disgruntled thoughts and suppressed
the urge to smile; Wallace was a complainer but he would get the job done. He
was just being old and stubborn and difficult. Tate’s gaze moved to Toby’s
beautiful face, a light of magnificence in this dark and dreary place.

“This is Mistress
Elizabetha Cartingdon,” he told his majordomo. “Mistress, meet Wallace, the
majordomo of Harbottle. He is at your disposal.”

Before Toby could
acknowledge the introduction, Tate turned for the great hall off to his left, a
huge cavernous room that was dark but for the fire that Stephen was attempting
to coax from a hearth that was taller than he was. Ailsa sat on a bench nearby,
shrouded by the dark and wrapped in her blanket as she watched Stephen try to
get a blaze going. Her little face turned towards the doorway as Tate and Toby
entered.

“I do not like this
place,” she announced, hopping off the bench and running to her sister. “It
frightens me. I want to go home!”

Tate gently put Toby
down and the two sisters embraced tightly.

“Our home is here for
now,” Toby said softly, feeling distaste for the place even as she said it. “I
will return to Forestburn in a few days and we shall see what is left. We can
rebuild.”

Ailsa buried her face
in Toby’s stomach. “But I want to go home now.”

Toby soothed her
weary, frightened little sister. “We cannot go home now. You must accept this.
For today, we will have food and a little rest and things will look better.”

“I want my father!”

Toby shushed her. “He
is gone, little chicken. You must accept this also.”

Ailsa began to sob
softly and Toby steered her sister over to the bench. The two of them sat and
comforted each other, the soft sounds of the child’s weeping filling the air.
Tate watched them a moment, feeling his guilt return. But he also realized one thing
very quickly; he liked having Toby within these walls. He liked having her with
him. And having Ailsa around was like having a daughter at his feet like the
one lost those years ago. It was a warm, fulfilling sensation, something he’d
never before experienced. It was also dangerous for he could imagine quite
easily forgetting everything of import except for the two small women before
him.

To his left, Stephen
managed to get the fire going. A soft, warm light radiated from the hearth,
growing brighter by the moment. The big knight stood up and brushed soot off
his hands.

“That will do for
now,” he said to Tate, eyeing the two sisters as they consoled each other. “We
must prepare a chamber for them. Both ladies need much rest.”

As Tate nodded,
Wallace scowled a few feet away. “This is no comfort-palace, Lord Tate,” he
said frankly. “There are only men at Harbottle and ever have been.  Women do
not belong in this place.”

Tate eyed him. “Be
that as it may, women are here and you will make them comfortable. I will hear
no more of your complaints. Is that clear?”

Rather than challenge
him, for he had already pushed his lord farther than he should have, Wallace
merely shrugged and turned away to presumably go about his duties. Tate and
Stephen watched the old man shuffle away, muttering to himself, and Tate
finally shook his head.

“Go and see if there
is something in the kitchens for the ladies to eat,” Tate asked Stephen
quietly.  “I shall go and check on the state of my chamber to see what needs to
be done in order to make it livable.”

Stephen departed for
the kitchens that were outside of the keep, situated to the west against the
fortress walls. As he moved into the dawn, Tate turned back to the women only
to see that Toby was nearly upon him.

“Go and sit by the
fire,” he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around. “I will go and see
to your chamber.”

Toby tried to shake
him off. “I cannot sit and do nothing,” she said. “You must let me help. Where
is Stephen going? Perhaps I can help him.”

Tate was trying not to
be harsh with her. “I want you to sit and rest. The past few days have been
very traumatic for you. Moreover, Ailsa needs you. She is very upset right
now.  I shall see to your chamber and you stay here where it is warm and
bright.”

Toby managed to plant
her feet so that he wasn’t shoving her back towards the bench. Brushing stray
hair from her eyes, she faced him.

“Please,” she begged
softly. “Please let me help you. I feel so useless right now. I feel as if I
must be doing… something.”

He knew that she was a
woman used to being very busy.  And he also knew she was feeling weak and
disoriented; she was still very pale and not at all recovered from her bout
with illness.  Before he could stop himself, he kissed her on the forehead and
turned her back for the bench.

“Go and sit with your
sister,” he instructed softly. “Warm yourself and I shall return shortly.”

His lips on her
forehead had left a searing brand. Toby was still feeling it. “But….”

He cut her off and
gave her another gentle shove to the bench. “Elizabetha, please,” he insisted
softly. “I will feel better knowing you are safe and warm right where I left
you.  I shall return as quickly as I can.”

Toby didn’t argue
further; she watched him fade into the dimness of the hall and into the stair
hall beyond.  He had a confident, stalking gate that she’d noticed before but
never gave a tremendous amount of thought to until this moment. There was
something about it that made her heart swell strangely. And the kiss… she
touched her forehead as if she could still feel his lips there.  Behind her,
she heard Ailsa’s soft voice.

“Why did he kiss you?”
she asked, curious. “I saw him do it. Why did he do it?”

Toby’s fingers
lingered on her forehead a moment before dropping to her side. “I do not know,”
she turned back to her sister, noting that the fire was gaining in strength and
she scooted the bench towards it. “Perhaps he feels sorry for us. Perhaps he
was just showing pity.”

Ailsa frowned. “He
would kiss you to show pity?”

Toby’s thoughts
lingered on the kiss before she looked at her sister, returning the frown.
“Stop asking so many questions. Take off that blanket and move closer to the
fire.”

Ailsa stuck her tongue
out at her sister before shrugging the blanket off and lifting her hands to the
delicious warmth of the fire. All manner of thoughts were rolling through her
little mind as she watched the flames jump. She cast her sister a long look.