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Thirty-five
Amiria lowered her sword and held up her hand afore she commenced in her lesson with Nevin once more. She thought she had been mistaken in what she had hoped would not be heard any time in her near future. But no . . . there ’twas again . . . the ever persistent sound of the tower bell ringing out in warning to secure the outer gates and drawbridge. The sound of crossing blades quickly diminished as knights rapidly sheathed their swords and ran to their designated posts. The garrison was well trained and knew their duty, unlike Amiria, who stood there silently in shock ’til her feet at last took flight, and she, too, made for the battlement walls.
She made fast work of the tower stairs mostly because she was unhampered by her armor that would have under normal circumstances slowed her ascent. Just this morn, Riorden had presented her with a leather jerkin for her to don, stating ’twas Lord Dristan’s wish she learn to train whilst lightly dressed to improve her form. She had to admit, there were certain advantages, along with a great sense of freedom, to training without the additional heavy weight of several pounds of metal upon one’s back.
Opening the tower door, she strode purposefully to the west battlement wall and made her way up another flight of stairs leading up onto the parapet. With no hesitation to the width of the narrow walkway, she made her way to Dristan’s captain, who pondered the horizon with a heavy frown set firmly on his brow.
“What think you, Riorden? Are they friend or foe?” Amiria asked, dreading his answer.
“I hardly think they are friends, Lady Amiria.” His reply was harsh, causing his dark brows to further deepen in thought.
She began to see the noticeable sign of dust rising in the distance. Riorden was right! This was no ordinary party and, at the rate they were moving, they could be at Berwyck’s walls by late afternoon, if not sooner.
“’Twas good planning on the part of your ancestor’s in having the foresight to build on such a high cliff,” Riorden praised. “We would not have noticed their advancement this early without such a strategic advantage.”
“My sire had always thought so, as well.”
“The villager’s will know what to do and come to the keep for protection?”
“Aye.” She gave her hushed reply whilst a feeling of déjà vu came over her. ’Twas not all that long ago she stood in this exact spot, contemplating with her sire and brother whilst their attention scanned the distant horizon and the approach of an oncoming army. She did not relish the thought of more of her kinsmen’s blood being shed. Her people had suffered enough this past year.
As she continued to watch the scene afore her unwavering gaze, she began to notice the first signs of villagers coming to the castle for protection. They carried in their hands what they could of their meager possessions. If another foe had come to claim the lands, all knew that any remaining crops would be burnt and the village ransacked of anything of worth. Thank goodness most of the crops had already been harvested. As if she had willed it, a light snow began to fall and Amiria knew she would once again need to raise up her courage to help with the defense of her home.
“I must go,” she began, but her movements were halted by the steel grip of Dristan’s captain.
“And just where is it you think you must go, my lady?” Riorden questioned with a stern look of disapproval upon his face. It appeared as if his features were made of chiseled stone with a look she had become used to only in another.
Amiria looked him firmly in the eye. “Why, to don my armor of course. Where else would I be needed at a time like this?”
“Do you honestly believe Lord Dristan would allow you to carry a sword into battle whilst you are on my watch?” he said with a ferocious roar.
She lifted her head defiantly. “Just try to stop me.”
“Do not test my patience, my lady. You are in my care and will do as I bid you.”
“I listen to no one’s counsel but my own. My people need me just as they did afore,” she replied tensely with a saucy toss of her head.
“Your clan may need you, but ’tis not to sacrifice your life on their account!” Riorden countered in aggravation, raking his free hand through his hair and staring down on her. “God’s wounds . . . how does Dristan deal with such a defiant woman?”
Amiria continued struggling to free her arm from Riorden’s grip but ’twas impossible. No amount of prying on her part was working. “I did my duty with the last siege, Riorden, and I must do so again!”
“And look at what the cost was to your clan from the last battle, Lady Amiria,” Riorden bellowed. “I understand what drives your need, but I cannot allow you to put a sword to use. Dristan would see me drawn and quartered with my entrails scattered to the four corners of this earth, if I allow you to follow this course.”
“Let go of me!” she cried out angrily. “You canna tell me what to do and soon you will be too busy to worry about my whereabouts.” She stood there as defiant as she could be whilst raising her fist at Riorden, almost daring him to gainsay her authority. From the look he gave her, she knew she had pushed him much too far. She eyed him cautiously, not knowing what the man had in store for her. Whatever it may be, ’twas surely not what Amiria had in mind.
Riorden gave up trying to reason with Amiria for she was just as stubborn as her husband. He took her by both arms and gave her a none too gentle shake in order for her to come to terms with his words. “You will go directly to our lord’s chamber, bolt the door, and remain there ’til I say otherwise,” he sternly ordered. “I will see your siblings are sent to you so I know you are all safe in one place.”
“Nay! You canna force me stay in my chamber, Riorden. I can help,” she shouted.
“If you will not go willingly, then you leave me no choice, my lady,” he said in annoyance and with the promise of his words, he lifted her up by the waist, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her off the parapet like a sack of grain. Amiria squirmed and kicked but he held firm as she raged at him that he could not treat her like some child. It only made his resolve stronger as he tightened his hold on his lady.
As Riorden made his way down the tower stairs to the floor where Dristan’s chamber was located, he halted a knight on his way above and bellowed for him to follow. Flinging the portal wide, he dropped his angry charge upon the bed and quickly stepped back afore she could draw her sword upon him. Her eyes blazed with fury more than likely that he would dare to treat her thusly, but he would brook no disobedience to her wishes, no matter her desire to aid.
Turning from her, Riorden made his way to the door, his armor clanking as he went. “Bar anyone from leaving this room once her siblings have joined her,” he commanded, “and no other than myself enters or leaves ’til I say otherwise!”
The knight nodded his understanding and Riorden turned once more to Amiria, giving her a short bow. “I shall return when this skirmish is over, my lady.”
“Rior−!”
Slamming the door and ignoring her when she called his name, Riorden made quick work of rounding up Lynet and Patrick, sending them to Amiria’s room. ’Twas in his search for Sabina that he came to the fast realization he had failed Dristan for her missing horse was a clear indication of his lack in judging the girl. He will have my head on a pike when he learns I have erred, he thought.
Knowing he was unable to waste any further valuable time looking for the wayward wench, who should have known better than to leave without her guard, he hastened to secure the castle. ’Twas fast becoming nigh to overflowing, as the villagers continued to flock to safety through its gates.
Kenna suddenly halted her steps and held on to Geoffrey’s arm. Aye, there ’twas again; that small tremor coursing through her body. ’Twas a sure sign she was about to have yet another vision. She never could get used to this feeling no matter how many years had passed by.
“Kenna?” Geoffrey asked quietly in concern. She began to sway and she felt him holding her close to his side.
Scenes of horror played afore Kenna’s mind, as though the images had in truth already occurred and were but memories. Swords clashed; arrows flew; knights fell; the occupants of Berwyck screamed in terror as fires alit in the inner and outer baileys; a massive battering ram was in the ready to storm the massive barbican gate; men attempted to scale the outer walls, as those from above poured boiling water down upon their heads. Yet still the enemy forged on in order to gain access to the keep.
Two men stood apart from the battle being waged against the castle’s wall. They were as different as night was to day, at least in their appearance, though their objective was the same . . . to win the battle and claim the land.
One dressed in full armor and that of a knight, although he had no honor within him. He lifted his visor and the black eyes of Sir Hugh were revealed. The other man was dressed as a Highlander in his clan’s colors. The fabric fluttered in the winter wind as did his unkempt brown hair. He, too, lacked any sense of chivalry and his only thought was to dispose of the man next to him and take Berwyck for his very own.
’Twas the final scene of Hugh slipping the long slim blade of a dirk into the back of the unsuspecting Highlander and making his way up through the tunnel with a number of men that finally brought Kenna out of her vision. Her eyes flew open as she looked around hopelessly disoriented by her surroundings.
“Easy my love . . . I’ve got you,” Geoffrey whispered against her hair as he held her. “All is well Kenna.”
“Nay Geoffrey. ’Tis anything but well,” she gasped. “There is trouble afoot!”
“What is amiss?”
“’Tis Berwyck.”
“What about Berwyck?” he asked, holding her from him so he could peer into her face. She could see his worried expression for surely her features were ashen.
“’Tis under siege, Geoffrey,” she wheezed.
He laughed at her words. “Surely you jest Kenna. We left there less than a hand full of days ago. How can this be happening now?”
Kenna gazed around the glade where they had camped so Geoffrey could take his ease in the warm waters of the nearby pool. It had helped to lessen the pain that caused him to limp ’til his leg could completely heal.
“I just know ’tis so,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “Do you doubt my words?”
Geoffrey looked at her closely. “I would but have to see it for myself, my lady.”
Anger flashed briefly in her eyes, causing her temper to rise. “Doubt me then if you must, but we shall get nowhere near Berwyck lest you care for a lengthy stay in its dungeon. I hear ’tis not a place one cares to reside!” Sarcasm dripped from Kenna’s mouth for ’twas not the first time someone did not have faith in her visions. Her feelings hurt that he would question her words, she left the comfort of his side and made her way back to their camp where she busied herself with packing their gear. She cared not if he believed her or not.
Geoffrey came to her at a slower pace and waited ’til she rose from her task. Taking hold of her from behind, his arms encircled her waist, bringing her against the warmth of him. She felt his breath against her neck and for one moment she enjoyed the bliss of being in his arms.
“Do not be cross with me, Kenna,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “We are still getting to know one another and I like it not when you are angry with me.”
She turned in his arms and took in the boyish look in his face. She reached up and brushed back a lock of his black hair that had fallen across his brow. He smiled at her and she felt her heart melting at such a look. Quirking her brow, his smile only broadened as his green eyes sparkled with mischief. How can I stay mad with him when he looks at me so, she mused?
“You must have driven your parents mad by wrapping them around your finger if you gave them such a glance as you have just given me,” she managed to muster. “Has no one ever told you, nay?”
His deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I suppose someone may have said it a time or two.” He leaned down to kiss her and only managed a short chaste kiss that was apparently none to his liking.
“Not now, Geoffrey. We must away to intercept Lord Dristan,” she said hastily, as she swatted his hand and began again to pack up their gear. “He will walk into a trap otherwise. Sir Hugh knows about the tunnel.”
Geoffrey roughly took hold of her arm and studied her features. They were full of concern that could not be doubted. “Sir Hugh? And what damn tunnel?” he growled.
“The escape route from the floor housing Berwyck’s family,” she replied just as harshly. “We are wasting precious time Geoffrey.”
“You still say ’tis under siege?” he questioned.
“Aye, but if you still do not believe me, then see it for yourself. Just exercise caution so we may yet live to see another day.”
Their horses saddled, they made their way from their haven and began their trek towards Berwyck. They had not traveled far afore Geoffrey halted their progress and tied their horses to a tree. They crept through the forest and crouched down low behind some bushes to remain unseen.
A twig snapped and Geoffrey quickly turned back towards Kenna, motioning her to remain silent. She gave him a look that wordlessly said she was trying. But a knight, hearing the sound, halted his progress to peer into the darkened forest surrounding him. Kenna took Geoffrey’s hand as she held her breath whilst terror overtook her. The soldier continued his vigilant inspection at no particular point of reference. He took several steps in their direction ’til his name was called. Unsatisfied, the warrior took one final look about him afore he reluctantly moved on. Kenna’s breath left her as she sagged against Geoffrey and trembled. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze.
In disbelief, they watched the tail end of what, she assumed, was a long procession heading directly towards Berwyck. There was no other destination, other than the castle, leading along this path. She watched as Geoffrey’s head shook in disbelief, still trying to deny that which he saw. A look passed between them almost as if he said aloud that he never should have doubted her words.
Motioning for Kenna to return to her horse, Geoffrey turned and crawled back to the tree where their mounts were tied. Once certain that no others followed, they mounted then kicked their horses into a full gallop, making their way south towards London. As the miles passed, Kenna tried to get Geoffrey to slow his pace, but he ignored her. Blood began trickling down his leg and Kenna could only pray Lord Dristan was already on his way home. With his coming, she hoped her liege had acquired a few more men than those with which he had left. He was going to need them.
