“But Dunstan recognized something about one of the arrows and knew it to be from his neighbor, Fitzhugh. And now Fitzhugh has him, imprisoned in his own castle. Oh, you must go, at once!”
Around her, the babble of voices exploded again, but Campion stopped it swiftly. “Marion,” he said softly, his brow furrowed. “What of your uncle?”
“He would still kill me! He locked me up in the tower, but Dunstan rescued me.”
“Now, wait a moment,” Campion said, even his gentle demeanor showing a strain. “You are telling me that after taking you all the way home, Dunstan turned around and freed you?”
“Yes, my uncle tried to have him killed, too! We were pursued at every turn, and ofttimes knew not who was after us.”
“Just you and Dunstan?”
Marion nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but Campion held up his hand to halt the flood he obviously knew was waiting to issue forth. “So you came back here.”
She faltered for a moment at that, wishing that for once the Wolf had considered her opinion, but he had not, and now he was held. “We went to Wessex, but Walter, one of Dunstan’s most trusted men, was waiting. He betrayed Dunstan. And he and his men took him, my lord! They tied him to the back of a horse and dragged him away!”
Marion lifted her hands to her face, a sob escaping into the deadly silence of the hall. Either the de Burgh brothers had been struck speechless or Campion was keeping his sons quiet. “They did not see you?” the earl asked gently.
She shook her head and dropped her palms. “No. Dunstan told me to stay back, so I waited. And then I came here to you.”
For a long moment all was still, and then she heard Nicholas’s hushed voice. “You rode all the way from Wessex by yourself?”
Marion looked at him. She wanted to smile at his wide-eyed wonder, but she could not, so she simply nodded. Six pairs of de Burgh eyes looked upon her with a stunned admiration that would once have been the height of her existence. Now, their respect was bittersweet because of the cost. “I had to,” she said. “He was taken three days ago, and Walter said that Fitzhugh would have at him. They will try to break him, I know it.”
Simon leaped to his feet. “Then let us go! By faith, this Fitzhugh will know the might of Campion! Why do we dally?”
“Hold, Simon,” Geoffrey warned. “If we march on Wessex, the man could kill Dunstan, or we might end up in a long siege, destroying our brother’s castle in the process.”
“Geoffrey is right,” Reynold said, and Marion paused a minute to marvel at the sight of two brothers in accord.
“Mayhap he could ransom Dunstan,” Robin said, his normally light tone startling in his seriousness.
Marion spoke up. “No. According to Dunstan, Fitzhugh has coveted Wessex for a long time, and he will be satisfied with nothing else. He wants Dunstan dead.”
“Perhaps if we took just a few men and tried to find a way in,” Geoffrey said. The brothers were all quiet, pondering that suggestion, until the youngest of them spoke.
“I know a way in,” Nicholas piped up. “Dunstan showed me once. There is a passage.”
Eight pairs of eyes met in stunned silence.
“Let us all go,” said Robin.
“Aye!” They spoke as one, the de Burghs, for once, all in agreement. Marion shuddered in relief.
“Simon, you shall lead,” Campion said. “But I wish you to heed Geoffrey’s opinions. Take a small force with you, little enough to escape attention, but strong enough to retake the castle. Unfortunately, we know not what the situation is inside. Nicholas must go to point out the passage. The rest of you make your own choice.”
Hearing each brother voice his assent, Marion nearly wept. They would all go to Dunstan’s aid, just as she had known they would, and she fought the urge to hug each one of them gratefully. But what of herself? “I would go, too,” she said softly.
“You!” snapped Simon, in a growl so reminiscent of his elder brother that Marion nearly smiled.
“You shall stay here where you are safe,” Geoffrey said.
“This is not woman’s work,” argued Robin.
“Hmm.” Everyone quieted at the sound of Campion’s low murmur, and they all turned to look him as he rubbed his chin and regarded Marion thoughtfully. “Perhaps there is something Marion has neglected to tell us.”
Marion glanced away from that all-knowing gaze, uncertain just how they would take the news that she was not eager to impart. Somehow, she had hoped that if she told no one, the marriage between Dunstan and herself could be forgotten, as well it should be. However, Campion obviously guessed at something, and there was no point in trying to dissemble before the de Burghs. With bent head, Marion drew a deep breath and admitted the truth.
“Dunstan is my husband,” she whispered.
