Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (34 page)

“Very well,” she said.
“Will this hurt?”       

The physic shook his
head, very carefully peeling back the edges of her cloak. “Not at all.”

          “What are
you going to do?”

“Listen, my lady.”

“Listen for what?”

The edges of her cloak
fell away and he moved for the neckline of her shift.  The moment he did so, he
felt a very large hand grasp him around the neck.  Not tight enough to cut off
air, but the implication was obvious. Timothy put up his hands as if in
surrender.

“I am going to listen
to her breathing, I swear it,” he said, his voice strangled by Kenneth’s grasp.
“Nothing improper will occur but I must be permitted to examine the lady if I
am to help her.”

Kenneth looked at Toby
for permission, who nodded faintly. Kenneth released the man and Timothy
coughed a couple of times, rubbing his neck, before resuming.  He delicately
pulled the neckline of Toby’s shift down to just below her collar bone.  Then
he took one end of the strange contraption and put it against her flesh, the
other end to his ear.

“Now,” he told her.
“Cough.”

She gave forth a weak
cough, groaning when it pained her. Timothy listened intently, moving his cone
around to different positions before finally removing it.

“She sounds stable
enough,” he put the device back in his bag. “I hear nothing strange so I would
assume nothing has been punctured.”

As Kenneth hovered
over him, Timothy proceeded with his examination, going so far as to examine
her arms and legs. After he had thumped and poked enough, he finally returned
to his big bag.

“She has three broken
ribs and her entire right side is bruised, but she should heal,” he announced,
pulling forth a roll of linen. “I am going to have to wrap your ribs, my lady,
and I cannot do it through your cloak and surcoat.  We must remove your clothes
down to your shift.”

Toby wasn’t
particularly shocked by his statement. She had seen Stephen wrapping the ribs
of men wounded in the siege and those men had been naked from the waist up.
While Kenneth very gently helped her sit, she and Timothy managed to remove her
cloak and surcoat. She was in so much pain that she could do nothing more than
lean against Kenneth as Timothy tightly wrapped the linen around her torso. 
Although it hurt tremendously, it also felt strangely better. By the time the
physic was finished, she was exhausted with stress and pain and Kenneth lay her
gently back down on the pallet. Timothy helped her to drink a strong willow bark
potion and quite soon, she drifted off into a heavy sleep.

Kenneth sat near her
head as the physic packed his medicaments back into his big bag.  “I will
return in a short while,” he said. “If she awakens, do not let her move around
overly. She must be still for the next few days.”

Kenneth nodded as
Timothy quit the tent. When all was still and quiet, his gaze drifted to Toby
and thoughts of Tate inevitably followed. He wondered if his liege had indeed
made it to Carlisle Castle and how long it would be before the man was at
Mortimer’s doorstep.  He knew for a fact that Tate would not let Toby’s
captivity go unanswered.  But the method in which the man chose to respond was
the question; knowing Tate and his connections, an army of unfathomable
proportions was not out of the question and Mortimer might find himself
seriously overwhelmed. Mortimer, however, held the advantage no matter how
large of an army Tate assembled; he held Toby.

Kenneth lay down
between Toby and the tent entry, thinking he should probably get some rest. 
But he spent the next hour staring up at the ceiling, wondering what course
their lives would take in the next few days. He wondered if he would be strong
enough to endure it.

***

Tate had Edward and,
at the moment, that was all he was concerned with. He didn’t even bother trying
to fight de Roche and his men when they surprised them just outside of the
postern gate. All he could think of was getting clear of the skirmish.  To stay
and fight, when he was clearly outnumbered, was not the wiser choice.  He had
to run.

So they fled through
the woods as de Roche and his men tried to pursue, being seriously hampered by
Stephen, Wallace and the four men at arms. It was a blessing that the snow and
trees slowed the pursuit, as Tate and Edward were on foot. It had been tricky
to cross the frozen River Coquet, which bordered the northern edge of the
castle, but they had used the old footbridge and then dislodged one end of it
when they were across.  As the bridge collapsed and floated away, they tore
through the snowy foliage until they came to the horses and wagon that had been
left for them. Each man had grabbed a horse and sped away.

Edward kept tight pace
behind Tate as they tore through the forest. Since the bridge was gone, they
did not expect pursuers but kept up a fast pace. Tate fleetingly wondered what
would become of Stephen and the others, with no way across the river to their
mounts, but he had to put that thought from his mind. Unless the man was dead
or dying, Stephen would find his way to Carlisle Castle and Tate fully expected
to see him there in a few days. He was too strong to fail.

The journey to
Carlisle would be a difficult one. It would take them at least two days but
with the snow and bad weather, perhaps longer. Tate’s thoughts inevitably moved
to Toby, wondering where she was and praying that she was well. He trusted
Kenneth and knew the man would do all in his power to keep her safe, but he
could not help himself from worrying to the point of being overwhelmed by it.
Now that he and Edward were away and presumably safe, his mind was occupied
with thoughts of his wife. Although he had only known the woman a week, he felt
as if she had been with him his entire life.  No greater bond nor love nor
admiration could he had felt for her had he known her for a thousand years. He
was desperate to see her safe, to hold her and to tell her how much he loved
her. He could think of nothing else.

As the snow fall eased
and the clouds began to clear, the moon soon emerged to bathe the land in its
eerie white light. Tate and Edward pushed on into the night, determined to put
as much distance as they could between them and de Roche, waiting for the day
to dawn in the hopes that it would bring good news and a brighter outlook.

In hindsight, if he
had known at that moment what he would later come to discover, he would have
sent Edward on alone to Carlisle and turned his horse for Mortimer’s camp. But
when he and Edward finally reached Carlisle Castle on the morning of the third
day and found themselves quite alone but for eight hundred troops, he spent two
additional days not eating and not sleeping, waiting for any sign of Toby and
Kenneth. 

On the sixth day since
leaving Harbottle, Stephen, Wallace and two men at arms, Morley and Oscar, arrived
at Carlisle.  They were exhausted and haggard but alive. The rest of their
party, including Althel, had perished in the flight. Tate was glad to see them
but they knew nothing of Toby or Kenneth. The despair he felt deepened tenfold.

It was then on the
seventh day since fleeing Harbottle that an escort arrived at Carlisle Castle
bearing a missive from the Earl of March. It came during the first meal Tate
had eaten in four days. Fatigued and on edge, he knew what the missive said
before he even read it. He just had a gut feeling. And even after he read the
carefully scripted words, he continued to stare at the parchment as if hardly
believing what he had read. 

Young Edward’s
response to the message was to rage while Stephen stood in brooding silence,
finally quieting the young king who was verging on a tantrum. All eyes were on
the Earl of Carlisle as the missive in his hand eventually fell to the floor.
As Tate walked away in stunned disbelief, the words on the parchment screamed
forth from the dingy and dusty floor.

Your wife is my guest
and St. Héver with her. The Lady was injured in her adventure and has required
the constant attention of a physic. Should you wish to have her returned, you
and I must come to terms at Wigmore Castle.

Tate made it out to
the bailey before vomiting.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

For someone who had
never traveled out of Cartington, Toby was doing a lot of traveling as of late.
Seven days as a guest of Roger Mortimer now saw her moving with his army for
Wigmore Castle in the Welsh Marches. She was seeing more of England than she
had ever seen in her life but she wasn’t enjoying it in the least.

Her ribs were much
better thanks to a good deal of rest and Timothy’s skilled care. But she was
still too uncomfortable to ride a horse so she sat in one of Mortimer’s
provisions wagons, tightly bundled up against the winter weather. Surrounded by
a massive army of hundreds and hundreds of men, the troop movement was an
impressive sight and a master scheme of tactical planning.

Kenneth rode beside
her on a big Belgian warmblood that Mortimer had graciously loaned him. It was
a young horse, mean and muzzled, but Kenneth handled him with skill. He had
been allowed to regain his armor but not his weapons, including his beloved
crossbow. Mortimer had taken that from him. But Kenneth was nonetheless allowed
the dignity of his station as a knight, riding as if he had not been stripped
of his broadsword and bow.

Toby would have been
more at ease if Hamlin de Roche hadn’t been so close to her. The dark, ugly
knight rode just in front of the wagon. She had recognized him as the same man
who had invaded Forestburn, remembering how he had tried to get his hands on
Edward. He would turn around every so often, glance at her and then cast a
challenging glare at Kenneth. But the big blond knight kept his eyes straight
ahead or on Toby and ignored the man who was trying to bait him.

Seated on the wagon
bench next to the soldier driving the team of horses, Toby eventually grew
bored and motioned Kenneth towards her. He reined the big stallion next to her,
struggling with the animal as it tossed its head and tried to fight him. Toby
watched with a frown, trying not to get bumped.

“They could not have
given you a more docile animal?” she wanted to know. “I do not believe this
horse has ever been ridden.”

Visor raised, the
corner of Kenneth’s mouth twitched. “He is as gentle as a kitten.”

“A raging kitten, you
mean.”

Kenneth lost his
struggle against the smile. “Did you call me over here to complain about my horse?”

She pursed her lips at
him, shifting on the bench to a more comfortable position. “I did not,” she
snapped without force. “I called you over here to find out where we are.”

Kenneth looked around,
drawing in a thoughtful breath as he did so. “Somewhere to the west of Leeds, I
believe,” he said. “Given our rate of travel, that would be my best guess.”

“How much further?”

Kenneth looked at her.
“Another week or more.  It is difficult to move this many men in this weather.”

Toby looked around, at
de Roche several paces up ahead, at Mortimer and his retainers far to the
front, before turning back to Kenneth. “Do you think Tate knows where we are?”
she asked softly.

Kenneth nodded
thoughtfully. “He knows where we are headed. We know that Mortimer has sent him
a missive to that effect.”

“Will he be waiting
for us at Wigmore Castle?”

“He will do what is
necessary and right, my lady.”

It wasn’t much of an
answer. She didn’t realize until later that Kenneth had been purposely
ambiguous in case anyone was close enough to hear his answer. Toby, however,
was left feeling depressed and uncertain.

“What will happen to
us once we get to Wigmore?” she asked.

Kenneth shook his
head. “I honestly do not know.”

“Are they going to
throw me in the vault?”

“I would sincerely
doubt it.”

“Are they going to
throw
you
in the vault?”

“That is a
possibility.”

Her eyes widened.
“Truly?”

He could see that he
had frightened her. He didn’t want to tell her what he really thought, but upon
reflection, it was better if he did so she was prepared. He did not want her to
be startled when, and if, the situation took a distressing turn.

“It is a possibility
but I doubt it,” he lowered his voice. “But you must prepare yourself for the
possibility that I will no longer be allowed to shadow you. Since your health
is returning, I am not sure Mortimer would see any need for me to remain with
you.”

He had only succeeded
in frightening her more. “Oh, Kenneth,” she gasped. “He would not… they would
not kill you, would they?”

He shook his head.
“Nothing so drastic, I think.  But he could very well send me elsewhere as a
hostage.”

Her eyes welled. “You
cannot leave me,” she whispered. “I will not allow it.”

He sought to soothe
her. “No need to fret. Nothing will happen for quite some time yet.”