Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (41 page)

“The price is far too
high, my lady,” Kenneth told her emotionlessly. “I am not afraid to meet my death.”

De Roche threw out a
fist and struck him in the mouth to silence him. Kenneth’s head snapped
sideways but he did not lose his balance or his tense expression. Toby watched
blood trickle from the corner of his mouth before turning back to Mortimer.

He was looking at her
rather confidently, as if he knew he had her cornered.  Toby met his stare,
realizing that she could only make one choice. She could not let Kenneth die no
matter what the terms of the bargain. She would therefore agree to the terms but
there was no way she planned to go through with them. She wasn’t sure how she
was going to get around it, but she would think of something. She had to; too
much was at stake.

“Very well,” she
almost choked on her words. “Your terms are accepted. But you will turn Sir
Kenneth loose this very instant and I will watch him ride from this place. I
would make sure he is well away before complying.”

“Nay,” Kenneth said
through clenched teeth. “You will not do this.”

Toby shushed him with
a harsh hand gesture and he stilled immediately. Her eyes remained on Mortimer.
“Do you accept my terms?”

Roger smiled
victoriously. “Of course, my lady,” he said, turning back to de Roche in a much
more congenial fashion. “Retrieve St. Héver’s mount and armor. And be quick
about it; I am sure the man is eager to return to de Lara.”

De Roche simply nodded
his head and quit the hall, leaving Kenneth standing alone in stunned silence.
Toby couldn’t even look at him. As quickly as the storm had risen, it had died
leaving devastation in its wake. 

“Toby…,” Kenneth
whispered painfully.

She shut him off with
a hand gesture.  “Not a word, Kenneth.”

“You
cannot
do
this.”

She spun to him, her
eyes brimming. “And you cannot die.”

For the first time
since she had known the stone-faced knight, his face reflected something of his
agony. The ice-blue eyes were glimmering with sorrow.

“I would rather die
than see you do this.”

“Your death would not
prevent it in the long run. You know this. Eventually he will take what he
wants.”

Kenneth knew she was
correct, knowing further argument would be futile. But the thought of her
sacrifice was killing him; he could only imagine how Tate would react, how it
would destroy the man. Tate had gone through too much destruction in his life
and had lived to tell the tale, but something like this would likely topple
him. Trouble was, Kenneth could not think of a way to stop it.  For all of his
knightly experience and cunning, he could not think of a way out of this unless
he planned to throttle Mortimer at this very moment. He was close enough to do
it but he wasn’t sure he could complete the task before a dozen broadswords
ended his life.

So he watched,
helplessly, as Mortimer moved to take Toby’s arm to presumably lead her back to
the dais. Toby moved stiffly, as if all of the life had been sucked out of her.
As she and Mortimer moved to take a seat, a sentry entered the hall and ran
straight for Roger.

“My lord,” he said,
bowing swiftly. “The Queen is upon us. We have sighted her party about a mile
out.”

Mortimer’s eyebrows
lifted in astonishment. “The Queen?” he repeated. “But… how is that possible?”

“I do not know, my
lord,” the man said. “She will be here within the hour.”

Roger’s mouth popped
open in shock, hardly believing what he was told. “Are you sure that is her?”

“Positive, my lord. A
herald has arrived before her.”

With that, the man
bowed swiftly again and dashed away. Mortimer stood rooted to the spot,
stunned, wondering why Isabella had come to Wigmore. It was not like her to
stray from the warm confines of Windsor during the winter and he had been
planning on the woman keeping a distance for a few months. It would give him
time to pursue his own interests away from her nervous energy; worse than his
wife, she could be cloying and unsettled. Her approach did not set well with
him; not well at all.

More than that,
Isabella didn’t even like Wigmore Castle; she said it smelled too much of Joan.
Roger began to imagine all of the reasons she might have for coming and
couldn’t think of a truly solid one. Perhaps she was coming just to spy on
him.  He would have wagered money on it.

But he was no fool; it
gradually occurred to him that the true reason for her visit was standing next
to him. He knew that Isabella and Tate were very old, and very good, friends.
And he knew how Isabella felt about Tate.  She had asked the man to marry her
once, something that had happened long ago in distant memory. But Tate was
still around, still as strong as he ever was. Roger was suddenly angry at
himself that it had never occurred to him that Tate would go straight to
Isabella to tell her of her lover’s folly
.
It was the surest way to
force him to behave.
Damn the man!

Slowly, he turned to
Toby; she gazed back at him with a curious expression.  He could only shake his
head and hiss. He knew the answers to all of his questions were summed up in
one name.

“Dragonblade,” he
snarled.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Toby had never met a
queen before. As she gazed at the woman she had heard about her entire life,
she could hardly believe that the woman had come to Wigmore and thanked God for
her good fortune. Now Mortimer’s attention was directed elsewhere and it was
like an intervention from heaven.

Isabella was short,
with big dark eyes and dark hair and a face that looked as if it had seen
better days.  Roger was absolutely beside himself; he took the woman’s hand and
held it to his lips sweetly. He was quite loving towards her, something that
both disgusted and fascinated Toby considering that not an hour before he had
been propositioning her. 

She’d not left the
hall since the announcement of the queen’s approach. Roger had made her sit
down and wait, along with him and his retainers, for the queen’s arrival.
Kenneth had also remained in the hall, standing behind the dais and watching Toby
like a hawk while Timothy sat near the hearth to watch the scene unfold with
trepidation. Kenneth ignored the physic for the most part; all he was concerned
with was the fact that since Toby had complied with Roger’s demands, Mortimer
had left her alone. His preoccupation with the queen’s arrival was obvious and
Kenneth was thankful.

So Kenneth skirted the
hall as the queen and her retinue arrived, watching the group filter into
Wigmore’s large and warm hall. Kenneth knew the queen and she knew him, and
when she caught sight of the big blond knight she nodded faintly. He bowed
slightly in reply. They had a long history of association, dating back to her
husband’s early reign. Soldiers were trickling in after the queen, men dressed
in mail and the queen’s colors. They took position near the door.

Kenneth looked at a
few of the faces, recognizing some but not others. As he neared the entry to
the hall, one of the queen’s soldiers, standing in the recesses by the entry,
suddenly reached out to grab him. Kenneth immediately went on the defensive
until he saw the face. Even then, he could hardly believe his eyes. It took him
a moment to realize what he was looking at. 

Tate gazed steadily at
him from beneath the hauberk and helm. Kenneth struggled not to react, but his
eyes did widen briefly as Tate swiftly motioned him to silence. Kenneth
immediately turned around to face the room with Tate slightly behind him,
hoping to protect the man from Mortimer’s knowing gaze. Suddenly, the dynamics
of the situation had changed dramatically in more ways than he could comprehend
and Kenneth was both relieved and on edge. His heart was pounding.

“Where is Toby?” Tate
whispered behind him.

Kenneth turned
slightly to speak, trying not to be obvious about it. “On the dais,” he
muttered. “See her? Behind Mortimer?”

Tate was silent for a
moment. “Aye,” he murmured, incredible gentleness suddenly in his tone. “I see
her. Is she well?”

“Well enough.”

“Thank God.”

For a man whose entire
nature revolved around an unflappable manner, Kenneth was very close to jumping
out of his skin. He simply could not believe that Tate was here, disguised as
the queen’s guard. Yet he should not have expected less; it was a cunning and
logical plan. Kenneth’s gaze began to move around the room and he noticed
Stephen on the opposite side of the hall; he should have recognized his tall
frame right away. Familiar cornflower blue eyes gazed warmly at him. Nearer to
the queen was Wallace, although he hardly recognized the man for he had cut his
wild gray hair off. Kenneth was stunned.

“Get Toby out of
here,” Tate whispered again behind him. “I do not care how you do it, but get
her out of this room. Take her to the stables and I will meet you there.”

“That may not be so
simple,” Kenneth muttered. “Mortimer keeps her close.”

“Now is the perfect
time with his attention distracted by Isabella.”

Kenneth nodded once
and moved away from Tate, skirting the room and paralleling the dais. He could
see Toby sitting there, looking rather bored, and his heart began to pound
harder. He moved closer, trying not to be conspicuous about it, as he finally
slipped up behind her. 

Toby was facing
forward, watching Mortimer slobber all over Isabella’s hand as he told her how
much he had missed her. The sight of it made her rather ill but it also
emphasized her longing for Tate.  She imagined that it was Tate holding her
hand, telling her how much he missed her. Her heart began to ache with the
thought and her mood turned dour, so much so that she was startled when she
felt a tug on her skirt.  She looked down to see a big hand tugging at it,
turning slightly to realize that it was Kenneth.

“You are ill,” he
whispered. “I must remove you from this hall immediately.”

She wasn’t following
him. “I am fine.”

He lifted his blond
eyebrows at her in a manner that suggested she not refute him. “You are
ill.
 
I must take you out of here.”

Her brow furrowed.  “I
am…?”

“You are seriously
ill. You cannot stay conscious any longer. You are dying, for Christ’s sake. Fall
down already.”

Toby looked at him as
if he had lost his mind but she understood his message. She wasn’t sure why she
needed to leave but in reflection, it didn’t matter. Kenneth surely had a good
reason. She did as she was told and, with dramatic flourish, went limp in the
chair and toppled over. 

Kenneth wasn’t
prepared for her the swiftness of her act but caught her before she could
strike her head on the chair next to her. He scooped her up into his arms,
hoping he could get her free of the hall before anyone noticed. But Mortimer,
in spite of his attentions on the queen, noticed almost immediately. All
attention turned to Kenneth and Toby as the knight was thwarted from slipping
out unaware.

“What is wrong with
Lady de Lara?” Mortimer asked with great concern.

Kenneth shifted her in
his arms so that her head wasn’t hanging up-side down. “I do not know, my
lord,” he replied honestly. “Perhaps she is simply overwrought.”

Isabella gaze was
intense on Toby as she moved past Roger, studying the lovely women passed out
in Kenneth’s arms. All eyes were on the queen as she observed Toby’s face, her
hands, her body. She was inspecting her, secretly satisfying herself on this
woman who had managed to capture Tate’s heart. What she saw did not disappoint
her.

“So this is Lady de
Lara,” she murmured, reaching out as if to touch Toby’s hair but stopping just
short of it. She glanced at Kenneth as she drew her hand away in an almost
embarrassed gesture. “She is lovely. You must take her to rest immediately, of
course.”

“Perhaps she needs a
physic,” Roger said, suspicion in his eyes. He didn’t trust St. Héver not to
run off with Lady de Lara but he could not do anything about it at the moment.
“Perhaps I should send Timothy with you.”

“Or perhaps she simply
needs to be left alone,” Isabella looked at Roger. “I suspect she has had more
than enough company for the duration of her stay with you.”

It was a direct rebuke
and Roger shut his mouth to any further protest. Kenneth didn’t wait for
further debate and whisked Toby out of the hall, moving faster than he should
have and praying that Roger did not become overly suspicious. Just as he neared
the stairs, Timothy suddenly appeared.

“’Tis the excitement,” the physic was trying
to get a look at the lady but Kenneth was being most evasive. “Mortimer has
given her more than she can handle.”
     Kenneth shifted Toby so that her head was against his shoulder, trying to
keep the physic from getting too close. “She will be fine. She simply needs to
rest.”

Timothy cocked an
eyebrow at him. “I am the one who will determine her health, if you do not
mind.”