Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (46 page)

“Dylan,” she snapped.
“Alex, get out of the dirt this instant. Go on; get up.”

The boys began wailing
because one of them had jabbed the other one in the eye with a dirty finger.
The one who did the jabbing knew he was in trouble, hence the dual wailing.
Toby sighed again and made her way down the steps, carefully; at seven months
pregnant, she wasn’t moving very swiftly these days. 

“Dylan,” she held out
her hand to the whining child. “You are alright, sweetheart. Get up now.”

With a pouting face,
much like his mother displayed when she was upset, Dylan took his mother’s
hand.  Alexander rose shortly thereafter and took his mother’s other hand. Toby
walked the boys over to where Roman was jabbing at his hay dummy with Wallace
and Catherine looking on.

Wallace was calling
encouragement to Roman when Toby walked up with the twins. He eyed the youngest
de Lara children sternly, but in truth, he loved them to death. They were
incorrigible little hooligans already and he was taking great delight in their
antics.

“Soon I will make them
their own swords,” he told Toby. “I can already tell they will be excellent
knights. Dragonblade will have many fine progeny.”

“Not too soon,” Toby
let go of Dylan’s hand as he rushed to his eldest brother, clamoring to play
with the toy sword. “They are already difficult to handle. I fear they will
have us completely overwhelmed by the time they are five years old.”

“Then you will send
them away to foster,” Wallace told her firmly. “Better the knights of
Kenilworth or Alwick to temper their wild streak than you.”

Toby frowned at him,
rubbing at her aching back. “Why not me? I have done well enough with Roman.”

Wallace looked at the
eldest de Lara child, now bombarded by both younger brothers as each wanted to
play with the sword. “Ah, Roman,” he said in a satisfied tone. “He will be the
greatest knight of all. He is already showing his father’s skill and
intelligence.”

Raised voices caught
Toby’s attention and she turned in time to see the twins attempting to tackle
Roman and steal his sword. But Roman was cunning like his father and took off
running.  She watched as the boys ran a circle around Forestburn’s new bailey;
Tate had kept good on his promise and set to rebuilding Forestburn from a
fortified manor into a castle. The burned-out shell of the manor was now the
great hall and a new stone keep had been built to the east of it. The
garçonnaire
and outbuildings were now incorporated into the massive structure, including a
newly built chapel that, as of six months ago, contained the crypts of Balin,
Judith and Ailsa.  And with that, Toby was finally at peace. Forestburn was
once again a prosperous place and she had her entire family with her.

Except for the fact
that Tate had been gone these long four months. She thought of him for the
hundredth time that day as she watched her sons wrestle for the toy sword.  She
missed her husband so much that her heart hurt and she wait with every sunrise
and sunset for news of his return. She knew that he had survived Mortimer’s
capture but she had not heard anything from him in three weeks. It was three
weeks of torture, waiting and wondering. Every night she slept with one of his
tunics, unwashed, smelling of his scent.  She would lay there and breathe its
strength, praying that he would return to her whole.

Catherine eventually
grew tired of sitting with Wallace and went to her mother, who picked her up
and kissed her. Toby brushed the stray hair from her daughter’s eyes,
remembering the little sister she raised so long ago and wishing Ailsa was here
to see the children.  Dylan and Alexander reminded Toby a good deal of her baby
sister; aggressive and bright and inquisitive. She had to grin when she thought
of her sister arguing with her young nephews. She had a feeling it was one
argument Ailsa would not win.

Lost in thought, she
did not hear the guards lift the creaking portcullis, nor did she hear the
horses crossing the new drawbridge over the newly-dug moat. Her back was to the
gatehouse. Only when her sons began shouting and Roman took off running did she
turn around to see what had them all so excited.

Knights bearing the
blue and silver dragon pennant of the Earl of Carlisle were beginning to fill
the bailey. Men on foot were spilling in, congregating near the entry. Wallace
was already on his feet, calling for the boys who were now in danger of getting
trampled by the war horses. But he was not fast enough; three of the knights
that were intermingled in the crowd suddenly dismounted, each going for an
errant boy.

The Earl of Carlisle
was the first one off his horse. The last time Tate had been home, the twins
had not been walking. Now they were running. He tossed off his helm with a
laugh of delight as Alexander ran within arm’s length. He grabbed the boy,
swinging him up in the air and kissing his little face furiously. Alexander
screamed as if he was being stabbed.

It made Tate laugh all
the more. He was thrilled to hear his children yell. Stephen, by this time, had
Dylan and was holding the boy upside-down. Dylan was screaming, but mostly in
delight. Kenneth was fortunate and had the calm child; his big hand was on
Roman’s head as he and the boy made their way over to Tate. 

“My God,” Tate gasped
as he set Alexander to his feet. “I cannot believe the babies are walking. I
feel as if I have been gone one hundred years.”

“As do I,” Toby was
smiling broadly as she came upon her husband and children, her face rosy with
joy as she drank in his handsome face. She looked to the faithful men at her
husband’s side; she was glad to see that they were alive and well, too. She
embraced Kenneth, the closest one to her. “Kenneth, welcome home. You also,
Stephen.”

Kenneth nodded his
thanks as Stephen smiled his. Tate’s gaze softened as it fell upon his wife;
everything around him ceased to exist for a moment as he beheld the woman that
he loved. Although he had at least three more children clamoring for his
attention, he gently pushed through them and went straight for Toby. Taking her
in his arms, he hugged her, and Catherine, tightly. 

Toby held on to him
fiercely, struggling not to cry in front of her children. But her joy was on
the surface. It was difficult to hold back. Tate kissed her cheeks, her lips,
before pulling back to look at her.

“You are more beautiful
than I remembered,” he murmured, kissing her again.  Then he turned to his
daughter and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. “My God, you are a lovely
creature, Cate. Look how beautiful you have grown.”

Catherine grinned and
chewed her fingers. With a hand still on his wife, Tate finally turned to
Roman, who was standing patiently beside his father. 

“Roman, you have been
growing behind my back,” he said seriously. “If your mother does not stop
feeding you, you will be taller than me by next week.”

Roman grinned and fell
into his father’s embrace; Tate picked him up, cherishing the feel of his first
born in his arms. He could not have been happier. But next to him, Dylan was
still screaming in Stephen’s arms and Tate looked at the red, upside-down face.

“Greetings, Dylan,” he
said.

Stephen grinned and
the set the boy to his feet, at which time Dylan punched Stephen in the armored
shin and ended up smacking his hand. He began to wail as the knights laughed.
Tate put Roman down and picked up his injured son, rubbing his little hand.

“Well,” he said
casually, “I will commend him for his bravery. It is not every child who would
take on a man four times his height.”

“He will be a fearsome
warrior,” Wallace announced.

“He will be just like
his mother,” Kenneth put in drolly.

As the men snorted,
Toby rolled her eyes, handing Catherine over to Stephen and taking Dylan from
his father.

“You will not rush
these boys into battle yet,” she told them sternly, comforting her son. They
were still snickering when she looked seriously at her husband. “And speaking
of battle; am I to hopefully assume that yours are concluded? Are you finally
home to stay?”

Tate exhaled slowly
and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her head against his lips for a
gentle kiss. It was Kenneth, Stephen and Wallace’s signal to give them their
privacy and the three of them pretended to go about their business. But neither
Tate nor Toby noticed, lost in each other’s eyes. They began to walk towards
the keep.

“Edward has assumed
his full authority as king,” Tate told her softly. “Mortimer is no longer a
threat.”

“What happened?”

Tate was gazing up at
the four-story keep as he spoke, his exhaustion evident.  But it was more than
his expression; it was in his manner. As if everything he had been fighting for
over many years had finally caught up to him. He had the look of a very weary
man.

“Mortimer was taken to
the Tower shortly after we captured him,” he said quietly. “He was executed two
weeks ago in London.”

Toby looked at him,
shocked yet relieved. “On Edward’s orders?”

“Aye,” he replied
softly. “Edward is of age now and already a powerful king. When I left, he was
convening Parliament and preparing his agenda.” His thoughts drifted to the
fair-haired boy, now a fair-haired man. “He is strong and intelligent. He will
do well.”

“And what about you?”
Toby wanted to know. “Will you do well now that you are not fighting his
cause?”

He looked at her and
smiled. “I will always fight his cause,” he said as they reached the steps
leading into the keep. “But for now, I believe I am entitled to my own life. I
deserve it.”

“Is it over with
Mortimer, then?”

“It is over.”

She smiled in return,
setting Dylan to his feet when the boy squirmed to be put down. Tate drew her
into his arms, watching as his twins resumed their attempt to steal their older
brother’s wooden sword. He relished their screaming, delighted in the chase. 
Their voices were like music to his ears.  

“We have missed you,”
Toby laid her head on his chest as they watched the boys scramble. “I was so
fearful that you would not return in time for the birth of this child.”

Tate put his hand on
her belly, feeling the firmness. He caressed her tummy gently, savoring the
results of their deep and committed love to each other. He kissed her deeply as
he continued to rub her belly, a profoundly intimate moment between the two of
them.

“I would not have
missed it, not for anything,” he murmured. “And you know that I will always
return to you, no matter what.”

The tears that she had
kept at bay finally found their way to the surface. “Will you promise me
something, then?” she whispered.

“Or course,
sweetheart,” he wiped the tears streaming down her cheek. “Anything you wish.”

“Will you promise me
that we shall never again be apart?”

He paused a moment.
“If it is within my power, I swear we will never be parted. I have missed you
as much as you have missed me. More, even.”

“Can you promise me
that these wars for Edward’s throne are finished?”

In truth, he could
not. There were stirrings in France that Edward had already made mention of.
Tate knew that, at some point, he would find himself in France fighting for the
king. But he would not tell Toby that, not now when she was so emotionally
brittle.

He held her at arm’s
length, gazing into her sweet face. “I can promise you that I will remain here
for the birth of my fourth son and that we will live happily together for the
rest of our lives.”

She wiped at her eyes.
“It will be a girl.”

“I could only be more
blessed.  What name did we decide on again?”

“Arabella Mary.”

He nodded in
recollection. “Ah, yes. Arabella Mary. And if it is a boy?”

“It will not be a
boy.”

He grinned at her,
knowing she had probably had her fill of little boys for the moment. “As you
say, madam.”

She cocked her head,
staring up into his handsome face. “It was a good attempt at changing the
subject, but you will answer my question now.”

“About what?”

“Whether or not you
are going to put away your dragonblade for good.”

He smiled at her and
pulled her against him, feeling her big belly against his mail.  “Do we have to
talk about this now?”

Before she could
retort, a scream went up as Dylan managed to steal Roman’s wooden sword. He
toddled off as fast as his tubby legs would carry him but Roman was faster and
grabbed hold of his brother, trying to wrest the toy from him. Alexander joined
in the ruckus and between the two brothers, they managed to shove Roman to the
ground. Like any small boy, Roman began to cry as his brothers fought over who
would be the first to play with the toy. 

At some point, Stephen
had set Catherine down and she walked over to where her brothers were fighting;
while Roman wiped the tears from his eyes, the twins started slapping at each
other and the sword fell to the ground. Catherine calmly picked it up and
walked away.