The Warrior Poet (50 page)

This was not the
Jean St. John they all knew.
 
This was a
fiend, and Christian was more than concerned about it. On top of all of his
other horrific worries, now he was concerned with a father who had a finite
grasp on reality.

“I have done
nothing of the sort,” he said as he dipped his quill in the inkwell. “I married
Gaithlin de Gare to secure peace between our families and you will accept it.
 
I realize you ordered Quinton to kill her, but
I am equally sure that he has not. Even now, I am sure he is riding to Eden
with my wife at his side. You will meet her, you will be polite to her, and you
will be thankful that she will bring peace to us all. Do you understand? And
another thing… there is something else you should know, something very
important.”

Jean was twitching
and seething. “I cannot imagine what is more important than you marrying the
enemy.”

Christian lifted
his eyebrows. “Ah, but there is. You should know that Alex de Gare died ten
years ago.”

If he thought it
possible for his father to become any more shocked or outraged, he was
wrong.
 
Jean went positively crimson.
“What’s this you say?” he nearly screamed. “Alex de Gare is… is
dead
?”

“Indeed he is,”
Christian said, almost casually. “He was killed ten years ago courtesy of a St.
John arrow.
 
Do you know who you have
been fighting all along?
Alex’s wife.
 
She took up arms in her husband’s stead.
 
When I told you the de Gare’s were a strong
bunch, I meant it.
 
The women are the
strongest of all.
 
How does it feel
knowing you have spent the past ten years fighting woman who has quite ably
held you at bay? I wonder who’s feeling the most shame now,
Father?
It certainly isn’t me.”

Jean went mad.
 
He hurled himself across Christian’s desk,
his clawed hands reaching for his son’s neck.
 
As the inkwell splashed everywhere, Christian was fast enough to dodge
his father’s hands but he ended up falling back over his chair in the
process.
  
As he fell backwards, Jean
threw himself onto his son, his fingers straining for Christian’s throat.

Christian, however,
still had the big quill in his hand and as his father came down on him, the
quill was between them. Jean ended up impaling himself on the big steel and
bone quill, the razor-sharp tip of the instrument driving deep into Jean’s
chest.
  
It pierced the skin, passed
through the ribs, and plowed straight into the man’s heart.
  
Jean’s heart was torn, blood gushed into his
chest cavity, and he was dead in an instant.

Christian felt the
quill pierce his father and felt the man go limp.
 
The quill was still in his hand even though
it was embedded in his father’s chest. Horrified, he yanked the quill from his
father’s body and bright red blood poured out all over him.
 
With a gasp, he rolled his father off of him
and onto the floor.
 

“Da?” he whispered,
grief filling him even as he could see that his father was very, very
dead.
 
“Good Christ…
Da?
Can you hear me?”

He was met with
utter silence.
 
Rising to his knees,
Christian gazed down at his father, his hand flying to his mouth as the gravity
of the situation settled in.
 
All he
could do was
stare
as the man, tears filling his eyes.
The shock was overwhelming.

“Oh… God,” he
gasped. “What have I done?
What have I
done?”

He lurched to his
feet, his horrified gaze still on his father.
 
A sob escaped his lips and then another, but he fought them off,
struggling to clear his mind as he realized, with certainty, that he had just
killed his father.
 
It had been an
accident; a horrible misfortune that had been completely unforeseen.
 
Jean, in his madness, had ended up killing
himself.
 
Christian could hardly believe
it.
 
Given his relationship with his
father over the past few days, he fleetingly wondered if anyone else would,
either.

But he had to get
control of himself. He was a man of supreme calm, even when all else around him
was unsettled and wild.
 
Everything could
be crumbling to dust but Christian St. John would remain like a rock.
 
He drew on that strength, struggling to pull
himself together. He tore his gaze away from his father; he couldn’t even look
at the man, knowing what he had done. He had baited him, he knew, with talk of
Alex de Gare’s death. Jean was already brittle and that information had thrown
him over the edge. Wiping away his tears, he marched to the chamber door and
threw it open only to find two soldiers standing guard in the corridor
outside.
 

“You,” Christian
jabbed a finger at one of the soldiers.
“Find Jasper.
Now.
”

The soldier didn’t
hesitate; when the Demon gave a command, it was meant to be obeyed.
  
As the man ran off, Christian struggled to
compose himself, leaving the door open as he wandered back into the room and
stood over his father’s body. He was still standing there when Jasper
entered.
 

The big knight went
to Christian’s side, wondering what the man was looking at and shocked when he
realized that Jean was on the floor with blood covering his chest.
 
He went to kneel beside the man, to help him,
but Christian stopped him.

“Nay,” Christian
said quietly. “He is quite dead.”

Jasper’s brow
furrowed as he gazed down at his uncle’s corpse. “What…?” he
stammered,
looking at Christian, realizing the man was also covered in blood. “How did
this happen?”

Christian
gaze steadily at his father.
 
“He attacked
me,” he said after a moment. “He caught me off guard and when he threw himself
on top of me, he impaled himself upon my quill. The quill is over on the table
if you want to look at it.”

Jasper was stunned.
 
His gaze moved between Christian and
Jean and back again as if trying to determine what, in fact, had truly
happened.
 
His simple mind could not
think of anything other than the facts before him and knowing what he did of
Jean and Christian’s relationship as of late, he could only come to one
conclusion.

“You
killed
him!” he accused.

Christian shook his
head patiently. “I did not kill him,” he said steadily. “He attacked me and
accidentally impaled himself on my quill.
 
Even if that was not the case, I am the Lord of Eden now and my word is
law. If you do not agree, you can get out of here and never come back. I mean
it, Jasper; I will have your loyalty or I will banish you from Eden. Make your
choice.”

Jasper was
aghast.
 
He looked at his cousin, turmoil
in his expression, but he realized that Christian was correct; he was Lord of Eden
now.
 
Jasper felt as much confusion and
angst about that as he was capable, but one thing was clear – Christian was now
in command of Eden.
 
The Demon now ruled
Eden.
 

“Your father wanted
to kill you for what you had done,” he rumbled. “He said you were a traitor. Is
that why you killed him? Because he thought you had betrayed the House of St.
John by fornicating with the de Gare wench?”

Christian sighed
heavily. “I told you I did not kill him,” he said. “If you say that again, I
will run you through.
  
I married
Gaithlin de Gare to secure peace between our two families and end the feud once
and for all.
 
I love my family enough to
want peace. I am tired of death and fighting, Jasper. Aren’t you?”

Jasper was
off-balance by Christian’s words. “Since when do you distain fighting?” he
wanted to know. “You, who have carved out a great reputation as a great
warrior
. How can you say you are tired of fighting?”

“Because I am,”
Christian said frankly. “I want to grow old and watch my children grow up without
the fear of battle hanging over their heads.
 
Doesn’t that make sense to you, Jasper? Do you want to spend the rest of
your life risking your hide for an old feud
that no one no
longer cares about
? Don’t you want something more for your life?”

Jasper thought
about that as Jean’s bloodied corpse kept drawing his attention. Since his
father had died at a young age, Jean was essentially the only father he had
ever known.
 
He knew Christian had killed
him and it ate at him; whether or not it was an accident, Christian was still
responsible.
 
Someone had to avenge Jean
and Jasper would gladly seek it.
 
Christian, the traitor, had to pay.

“There is nothing
more for my life,” he growled, reaching for his sword. “Eden and Uncle Jean are
my masters and this feud you no longer have the stomach to fight is something I
will never surrender.
  
It is in my blood
and in yours.”

Christian could see
that Jasper was moving for his weapon and he quickly moved away from him. “The
feud is over.”

“The feud is your
obligation!”

“Jasper, think a
moment,” Christian didn’t want to have to kill the man but he would do it if he
was attacked. “Do you even know why we fight against the House of de Gare? Or
are you really so simple that you only do as you are told without wondering why
you have been told to do it?”

Jasper’s broadsword
glittered wickedly in the weak light. “Anyone who consorts with the House of de
Gare is a traitor,” he grumbled. “Marble-Head Maggie found out the hard way.
Now you shall find out as well.”

Christian’s brow
furrowed. “What do you mean Maggie found out the hard way?”

Jasper had been
told not to divulge the circumstances surrounding Maggie’s death but at the
moment, he didn’t care. He wanted to see Christian’s face when he told him.
“Just what I said,” he replied. “She had been visiting Alex de Gare, betraying
us at every turn.
 
It was she who told
Alex where
you
 
had
taken his daughter. Uncle Jean ordered me to kill her for her betrayal and I
did.”

Christian couldn’t
hide his shock. “You killed Maggie?”

Jasper nodded with
smut intent. “I did indeed,” he muttered. “And now, I shall kill you as I
should have done the moment we found you in Scotland with the de Gare bitch.
Uncle Jean was correct; you have betrayed us all.
 
Meet your maker, Demon!”

Jasper ran at him
with his sword lifted and Christian was at a distinct disadvantage; his sword,
along with the rest of his weapons, had been left behind in Scotland.
 
As Jasper came near, Christian grabbed the
chair next to his writing desk and swung it at Jasper’s head.
 
The broadsword wasn’t enough to block the
heavy chair, which Christian swung with all of his might.
 
It caught Jasper right in the forehead and
sent him to the ground.
 

But the man was
still semi-lucid and Christian knew he would rise up and attack him again, so
he grabbed the heavy iron sconce upon his desk and brained Jasper with it,
spraying hot candle wax all over everything.
 
It was a violent action as the dull thump of iron against bone echoed in
the chamber. Jasper stilled immediately, knocked cold.

Breathing heavily
with exertion, Christian stood over his cousin’s unconscious form, wondering if
he should simply kill him and be done with it. He knew Jasper and knew the man
was a killing machine; if he sought vengeance against Christian, then he had
the scent of blood in his nostrils. He would never stop until he killed
Christian or Christian killed him.
 

But Christian
didn’t want to outright murder his cousin; perhaps with time the man would
forget about his anger and hatred.
 
The
death of Jean had unbalanced both of them. Perhaps with time, Jasper would
return to normal.
 
Until that occurrence,
however, Christian intended to take no chances.

He chained Jasper
up in the vault of Eden personally, and the quill that had killed his father
ended up in the fire, never to be used again.

‘I
had loved her in eons past, in many forms, and would continue to do so through
eternity;

This
heart, this soul, and this body that belonged to me

In
her eyes, I saw starlight and in her face, I saw God

That
I could not breathe without her in my arms,

Nor
could I think without her subtle whisper upon my ear.

That
which belonged to me had always belonged to me,

A shining angel that is my wife.

She
is all.’

~Chronicles
of Christian St. John

Vl. XI, p. CXXVI

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Christian knew that
if he rode swiftly, he could make it to Scotland in a couple of days.
 
There would hardly be opportunity for rest or
reprieve, but he didn’t care. Quinton had still not returned to Eden and Christian
was nearly crazed with worry, wanting to know what had happened. Was Gaithlin
safe? Was Quinton safe? Were they both dead? The lack of information had driven
Christian to the brink of insanity.

The events with his
father and Jasper hadn’t helped his mental state.
 
Jean’s death was still weighing very heavily
on him but he couldn’t dwell on it.
 
Still, he felt as if emotions and guilt were weighing him down,
threatening to suck him into an abyss of pain.
 
He kept reliving the conversation with his father over and over,
wondering if there wasn’t something more he could have said or done to prevent
what had happened.
 
Maybe he should not
have told him of Alex’s death as he had. Maybe he should have waited until his
father was in a more stable frame of mine but, given his father’s behavior towards
him, he wasn’t entire sure his father would ever be stable.

He had very much
wanted to convince his father that peace was the correct course, but perhaps it
was never meant to be.
 
Maybe the news
about Alex’s death hadn’t really mattered one way or the other. Jean St. John
had been fighting the feud since birth, as had Christian, but the man had known
the hatred longer than Christian ever had.
 
It was engrained in him, a part of him.
 
Perhaps life without the feud was something he could have never understood.
 
Christian would never know, and that hurt him
deeply.

But he shook it
off; he couldn’t dwell on it if he was going to focus on finding his wife and
brother. An hour after the incident with his father and Jasper, Christian was
preparing to ride from Eden.
 
With Jasper
locked safely away in the vault under the guard of men personally sworn to
Christian
,
 
and
Jean’s body being prepared for burial, Christian was exiting the stables with a
horse he had personally selected when cries from the sentries went up.
 

 
“Who is it?” he bellowed up to the walls.

Men were straining
to see into the soft light of the mid-afternoon.
 
Finally, one of them waved down to him.
“Scots, my lord!” he shouted.
“Hundreds of them!”

Christian’s brow
furrowed in confusion.
 
He handed the
horse over to a groom as he made his way out of the stable yard and into the
main part of the bailey.
 
Clouds were
starting to form overhead as he headed to the gatehouse, drops of rain gently pelting
him. They spotted the heavy leather vest he was wearing and the breeches he had
borrowed from his brother. As he leapt onto the ladder that would take him up
to the wall, one of the sentries yelled down to him.

“Sir Quinton is
returned!” he said excitedly. “I can see his horse!”

Startled, Christian
jumped off the ladder. “Lift the portcullis!” he commanded. “Open the gates!”

He ran towards the
passage of the gatehouse as the old portcullis shuddered as the men began to
lift it.
 
Chains rattled and groaned as
Christian strained to see down the road that stretched from Eden out into the
landscape beyond.
 
There were trees and
rolling hills, but mostly a massive clearing around the castle for a better
field of fire.
 
Christian could see the
army approaching and the sea of brown tartan intermingled with men in
mail.
 
But very clearly, he saw Quinton
at the head of it along with other knights on horseback.
 
And then, he saw something else.

A
woman with exquisite blond hair blowing in the breeze astride his big white
charger.
 
It took him a split second to realize
that Gaithlin was riding with his brother and he bolted beneath the lifting
portcullis, racing out onto the road.
 
He
was filled with joy beyond measure, running towards his wife even as she caught
sight of him and spurred the charger forward.
 
But the big white charger wouldn’t cooperate so she gave up trying to
ride the horse; leaping off the animal, she stumbled and ended up on her
arse.
 
Christian could hear her laughing
from where he was.

But she did
scramble to her feet about the time Christian reached her.
 
Together, they came together in a massive
clash of flesh, blood, and heart, their delighted laughter filing the air.
 
The army around them came to a halt, watching
as the Demon of Eden swallow up his wife, a de Gare, in a manner of passion that
no one had ever been witness to.
 
It was
something that radiated its own warmth, shining like the sun, until all who
witnessed the event knew that never in the history of the world had a man ever
loved a woman more than the Demon loved his enemy wife.

“You are alive,”
Christian gasped between heated kisses. “Good Christ, I cannot tell you how
hard I have prayed for your safety.
 
Are
you well, Gae? You have not been injured, have you?”

Gaithlin gasped as
he kissed her furiously. She could barely speak through his passionate and
thrilled kisses. “I am fine,” she assured him. “Are you well? Your men… they
took you away and….”

He cut her off,
slowing his kisses as he cupped her face and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I am
unharmed,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “They did not hurt me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

She wasn’t sure she
believed him but gave him the courtesy of not arguing.
 
He looked healthy enough so she would have to
be satisfied with that for the moment.
 

Christian caressed
her cheeks with his thumbs, feeling the soft texture against his skin, as he
gaze sought out his brother.
 
Quinton was
astride his charger a few feet away, his expression wrought with a mixture of approval,
understanding, and relief.
 
Christian
smiled at him.

“Thank you,” he
whispered. “For not harming her, I thank you. I am forever indebted to you,
Quinton.”

Quinton threw a leg
over the pommel of the saddle and slid to the ground.
 
He unlatched his helm as he approached the
pair.

“Surely you knew I
was not going to harm her,” he said, his voice soft as his gaze shifted to
Eden.
 
His eyes perused the stone gatehouse
and, after a moment, he shook his head. “I do not know how I am going to
explain this to Father but I assume you will support me in my decision to disobey
his directive.”

Christian’s smile
faded as Gaithlin captured his attention, her hand on his cheek. “My mother
came shortly after you were taken away,” she said, quickly explaining the
sequence of events. “It would seem that she followed your brother and his army
from Eden with the intention of rescuing me from you.
 
Christian, whatever has happened with your
father, please know that my mother and I have agreed to surrender Winding Cross
in order to gain your freedom.
 
We
thought that surely your father would have you in chains for what you had
done.”

Christian’s
eyebrows lifted. “As you can see, I am quite free,” he said, his focus moving
to the rather substantial army that had accompanied his wife. “Although it is
not necessary to surrender Winding Cross on my behalf, I would like to know who
all of these Scots are.”

Gaithlin turned
around, seeing Roger and Mac along with their contingent of Scotsmen.
 
“It’s rather a confusing story,” she said.
“Roger Douglas found out that the armies of Eden and Winding Cross were on his
lands so he followed them. It seems that everyone was following everyone else,
and they all ended up at our hut in the Wood.
 
I explained to Roger that your father had come to take you back to Eden to
face his justice for marrying me and Roger offered to accompany me to Eden to
see if he could convince your father not to punish you.”

“The man has no
right tae punish ye,” Roger said, astride his horse several feet away. He had
heard Gaithlin’s explanation and was determined to speak up. “Ye married tae
secure peace. If yer father
canna understand
, then
I’ve come tae convince him.
 
An arrogant lot, the St. John’s.
‘Tis time they listened tae
a more reasonable man and end this madness.”

Christian had no
idea who the big, blond Scotsman was but he suspected. “Laird Douglas, I
presume?”

Roger nodded
slowly. “And ye must be
th
’ Demon.”

“I am Christian St.
John.”

“Remember this day
that I stood fer ye, Demon.”

“I will. Thank you
for bringing my wife to me. If you ever have need of me, I will respond.”

That seemed to
satisfy Roger a great deal, finally re-establishing ties that had been long
dead.
 
Even if Jean St. John would not
acknowledge his Scot kin, Christian would and by reputation alone he was a far
better man than his father.

“Where
is
your father, Christian?” Gaithlin
asked softly, peering at the stone edifice of Eden.
 
She’d never been this close to it before and
was inherently intimidated. “Why are you not in chains? Quinton said he was
going to punish you for marrying me.”

Christian gazed
into her eyes, touching that beautiful face as he did so.
 
He wasn’t quite sure how to tell her
everything that had happened but he had to; most especially, he had to tell
Quinton.
 
In fact, there was a good deal
to discuss.
 
His mind was overwhelmed
with the possibilities, both present and future.
 
But gazing at the woman before him and the
party of knights and Scots that had come with her, all of them willing to fight
for him and for her, he felt indistinctly good company.
 
It was time for a change.

“Let us all go
inside to discuss this,” he said to her,
then
looked
to Quinton. “As for you, I need a few moments of your time privately.
 
Accompany me at this time and the others will
follow.”

With that, he
kissed his wife and asked for a moment with his brother alone.
 
Gaithlin hung back as Christian and Quinton
began walking towards the great gatehouse of Eden, speaking in hushed
tones.
 
They were about a dozen feet away
when Gaithlin and the others moved to follow.
  
She could see her husband speaking to Quinton
in hushed tones and she could clearly see when Quinton’s face went pale with
shock.
 
Something terrible had happened;
she could see it in Quinton’s expression. But Christian was safe and whole, and
that was all she truly cared about.
 
Whatever the terrible thing was, they would all face it together.

“I wonder what your
husband is speaking to his brother
about?
” Alicia’s
soft voice filled Gaithlin’s ears.

She looked over her
left shoulder to see Alicia riding up beside her aboard her shaggy brown steed.
Malcolm was seated behind the woman, his skinny arms wrapped around her waist.
On the trip south, Malcolm and Alicia had become fast friends and Gaithlin
thought it was good for her mother to be distracted from Eldon’s death.
 
Once Gaithlin explained her relationship to
Malcolm and how the boy was to become her adopted son, Alicia took to the lad
right away.
 
She seemed to be smiling a
good deal, anyway.

“I am not sure,”
Gaithlin replied to her mother’s query. “Whatever it is, Quinton appears
shocked, wouldn’t you say?”

Alicia nodded
faintly, her eyes on the pair of knights up ahead.
 
 
“Do you
think he is telling him of Alex’s death?”

Gaithlin
shrugged.
  
“It is hard to say,” she
said. “I am not sure any of that matters any longer.
 
I am certain that Jean was shocked, however.
What a blow it must have been to the man’s ego to know he had been fighting a
woman for the past ten years.”