Page 47

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

P atrick heard the soft knock on the chamber door. Lying down next to his wife, whom he believed was sleeping, he very carefully rose from the big bed, trying to navigate the new curtains that Bridey had hung, and made his way to the door. Carefully, he opened it to find his sisters standing outside, their features wrought with concern.

“Papa told us what happened,” Katheryn whispered loudly. “How is Bridey?”

Patrick turned to look at his wife’s sleeping form on the bed. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” he said quietly. “She is sleeping now.”

Katheryn and Evelyn were very sad, indeed. “How did she react to it all, Atty?” Evelyn asked. “She must be positively terrified.”

Patrick stepped out into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind him. “She was naturally very upset to learn that a woman she trusted had betrayed her,” he said. “She was even more upset to learn of the plans Clan Gordon had for her. She cried herself to sleep, in fact.”

Evelyn clucked her tongue sadly. “Poor Bridey,” she said. “Who has ever heard of anyone wanting to crucify someone? The very idea is appalling!”

Patrick nodded, feeling limited patience. He knew his sisters were concerned for Brighton, and he was very appreciative, but he didn’t want to answer a bunch of their questions. He wanted to return to the room with his wife in case she needed him.

“It is,” he agreed. “She is quite upset about it. So when you see her next, please do not bring it up. I am not sure if it is something she wishes to discuss, but you will let her determine if it is or not. Agreed?”

Both Evelyn and Katheryn nodded solemnly. “I had Papa take the children over to the kitchen yard so there would not be so much noise,” Katheryn said. “Is there anything we can bring Bridey? Wine? Mayhap a hot bath would make her feel better.”

Patrick shook his head. “Not now,” he said quietly. “Return in an hour or so and mayhap I will change my mind. For now, just let her sleep.”

Evelyn and Katheryn nodded, turning for the stairs that led to the floors below. But Katheryn came to a halt and turned to her brother, once more.

“Papa told us that you are going to London to decline your royal appointment,” she said, studying him seriously. “This is something you wanted so very much, Atty. I feel badly that you feel the need to decline it.”

Patrick smiled weakly. “Do not feel badly for me,” he said. “There will be other royal favors given. I want to remain here, with my wife, and I am very happy about that. This is a good thing, Katie, I promise.”

Katheryn returned his smile. “Truthfully, I am happy about it, too,” she said. “I was wondering if you were going to drag Bridey to London. I am thankful that you are not.”

“So am I.”

“But what about the titles Henry was going to bestow upon you? And the castle? Will you still receive them?”

Patrick shook his head. “More than likely not. But I have something better, instead.”

He meant Brighton. He winked at his sister, turning for the chamber door and quietly opening it. With great stealth, he entered the room, making his way over to the bed as the faint noise from the bailey filtered into the chamber. It was very quiet outside so he was coming to think that maybe everyone had gone to the kitchen yard so that Lady de Wolfe could rest. He was just lowering himself onto the bed, very carefully, when Brighton suddenly rolled over and looked up at him.

“You do not have to be so quiet,” she said softly. “I am not asleep.”

He smiled at her and lowered himself down completely, propping his head upon his hand, elbow bent, as he gazed down into her lovely face.

“You can sleep all you want, you know,” he said. “I will stay right by your side. I will never leave you, Bridey. Not ever.”

She reached up, a gentle hand touching his cheek. “You will leave me when you depart for London,” she said. “Patrick, I have been thinking. You do not have to refuse your royal appointment. It was nearly the first thing you ever told me about and I know how badly you want it. I will come to London with you. If we must spend time apart while you tend the king, then so be it. I am not troubled by it.”

His expression turned serious. “But I am troubled by it,” he said. “You do not seem to understand how much time I would have to spend away from you. Eventually, it would take its toll on you and on me. Nay, it is much better for us to remain here at Berwick where we will see each other with great frequency. I could not stand to be parted from you, Bridey. Not for an hour, a day, or a week. All the time I was with Henry, I would be thinking of you and would, therefore, be ineffective as his Lord Protector. It simply would not work.”

Brighton considered his words. “But I do not want you to resent me someday. You wanted this appointment so badly… I could not stand it if you grew to hate me because you felt I had kept you from your destiny.”

He sighed faintly, reaching up a hand to stroke her soft hair. “ You are my destiny,” he said. “When God led me to your captors those weeks ago, He put my destiny right in front of me. I can see that now.”

Brighton was still unsure. She knew how much the royal appointment meant to him and that, coupled with the news from the Scots messenger, had her reeling. A crying jag followed by an hour or two of exhausted sleep had brought her to this point in her life. She still felt vastly uneasy and fearful, even more fearful now that Patrick was going to leave her to journey to London to inform the king that he would not accept his royal appointment. She didn’t want him to leave her side but she understood his reasons.

She had to be brave.

“So you will leave me to go to London,” she said, her hand still on his cheek. “How long will you be gone? London is very far away.”

He kissed her hand when it came near his mouth. “Not so very far,” he said. “It is summer and the weather is good. I can make thirty-five miles a day, which means that it will take me ten days, twelve at the most. I will seek Henry immediately. He will see me considering he believes I am there to assume my post. But I will tell him that I cannot accept and head for home as soon as I can.”

Her expression was anxious. “But what if he makes you stay?”

“He will not make me stay if I do not want to. Lord Protector is an honored position, not a prison sentence. He will understand why I cannot accept it. The man is married to a woman he adores, by all reports, so he must understand my position.”

Brighton accepted that. She very much wanted to have faith that everything would turn out just as he said it would. “And when you return, then what?” she asked. “You have spoken of your anger at Richard Gordon. Will you punish him?”

Patrick’s hand moved from her hair to her nose, pinching it gently. “That is for me to decide,” he said, not wanting to frighten her with just how badly he wanted to punish the man. “And that is not something I wish to discuss right now. You know what has happened and you know why your mother prioress betrayed you. I will thank God every night until the day I die that I did not return you to Coldingham when I had the chance. Fortunately, I listened to my instincts. I knew that you were not to return to the priory but I did not know that it was for a far worse reason than I could have ever suspected. Suffice it to say, that you are to remain here as my wife. I will go to London and return as quickly as I can. Then Richard Gordon will know his fate. His scheme against you will not go unpunished.”

Brighton knew this was his general plan because, prior to her being informed about anything, she had heard her husband and his men in the great hall in an intense and loud conversation. It was such a lively discussion that it drew the woman simply from the volume of it. She had heard something said about a bastard paying for his sins, but she’d had no idea why until Patrick had taken her up to their chamber to inform her of a Scots visitor who had spoken of the corruption of Coldingham.

Then, and only then, did Brighton come to realize just how horrible the situation had been and how much her life had been in jeopardy. Just the thought of it made her grow frightened again and she threw her arms around his neck, holding him fast.

“Then it was truly God who sent you to save me that night,” she said, her face pressed into his neck. “Had you not come when you had, I would be a victim to a terrible plot. People I do not even know want to seek vengeance upon me for something I had nothing to do with. Even as you thank God for your reluctance to return me to Coldingham, I will thank Him for sending you as my savior.”

Patrick hugged her tightly, feeling her warmth and life against him, so incredibly grateful. She was healthy and safe, and that was all he cared about. Still, he hated to leave her. It was not something he was looking forward to.

“Then all is well, is it not?” he murmured, kissing the side of her head. “Everything is well, Bridey. You need not worry any longer. Now, we must speak of my journey to London. I have been speaking with my father and he wants to know if you would like to spend your time at Castle Questing while I am away.”

Brighton pulled her face from his neck, looking at him thoughtfully. “Why?”

“He thought you might feel better with my mother and Penelope for companionship.”

She smiled. “That is a kind offer, but I will stay here,” she said. “This is my home, after all. Our home. I have Katheryn and Evie for companionship and I will tend your fortress while you are away. Truly, there is no place I would rather be.”

He smiled, pleased at her words. They touched him deeply. “It is our home, isn’t it?” he said. “But we could live in a cave on the coast and I would still call it home if you were there. Wherever you are, that is my home.”

Brighton kissed him sweetly and hugged him tightly, feeling the pangs of separation already. Sweet Mary, she was going to miss him. Her heart hurt in ways she’d never known it could.

“When will you leave?” she asked.

“The sooner I leave, the sooner I return.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I was thinking on it. I was due to leave in a few days, anyway.”

She groaned softly. “As much as I hate to hear it, I know it is for the best.”

“I believe it is.”

Releasing him from her arms, Brighton crawled from the bed and stood up, going to a dressing table that she’d had the servants drag down from the storage room on the top floor. It was very old, having been some fine lady’s table years ago, perhaps another wife of a commander of Berwick. It was heavy, made of oak, and had faded painted flowers on it. Katheryn had covered it with a white damask cloth, one with lace on the edges, and now the cloth was covered with all of the dressing items that Patrick had purchased for Brighton on their trip to Wooler.

There were combs, ribbons, oils, pins, and even a tiny dagger with a yellow jewel in the hilt. It was a lady’s dagger, very pretty, and Brighton picked it up. Patrick caught the glint of the steel in her hand but before he could say a word, she took the dagger and sliced it through several strands of her hair, cutting it off. Patrick then sat up to watch what she was doing, curiously, and he could see her fussing with it on the dressing table.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked.

Brighton didn’t reply right away. When she eventually turned around, she was holding up the locks of hair all tied up with a small piece of blue ribbon. She went over to the bed, extending it to him.

“Even if I cannot go with you, you can take something of me,” she said, almost shyly. “I have heard that women sometimes do this so their lovers may have a keepsake of their hair. Will you take it with you?”

Patrick looked at the six-inch section of hair, reaching out to take it from her as if she were delivering pure gold into his hands. He held it up to his nostrils, smelling her in the silken strands. It was enough to melt his heart; a gesture that touched him more than words could express.

“I am deeply honored, my lady,” he murmured, kissing the hair. “I could ask for no finer keepsake.”

Brighton smiled, happy that he should be so touched. “Mayhap you will think of me when you touch it, just a little.”

He reached out, pulling her against him, and planted a fairly delicious kiss on her lips. “I do not need a lock of your hair to think of you,” he told her. “I will think of you endlessly while I am away, dreaming of the day I shall return to your arms.”

Brighton quickly succumbed to his kiss, ending up on the bed beside him. He kissed her forehead, each eye, her nose, and finally her lips again. He was about to deliver a far more lusty kiss when there was a knock on the chamber door.

Making a face at Brighton to suggest he was quite perturbed with the interruption, he pushed himself off the bed, listening to her giggles, as he made his way to the door. He yanked it open.

“This had better be good!”

He ended up yelling those words into his father’s face. William’s head actually snapped back a bit at the force of the shout. Sitting on the bed, Brighton burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hands as Patrick appeared sheepish.

“Sorry, Da,” he said. “I thought it might be… oh, hell, it does not matter. How may I be of service?”

William cocked an eyebrow. “I am not quite over you yelling at me.”

Patrick fought off a grin. “Do try,” he said. “How can I help you?”

William could hear Brighton giggling and he peered into the room, smirking when he made eye contact with her. He refocused on his son, crooking a finger and pulling the man out into the hall. Patrick dutifully followed, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you going to beat me now?” he asked warily.

William turned to him. “I am not, although I should.”

Patrick grinned, his mood good. It was always good when he spent time with Brighton. “Then I thank you for your mercy,” he said, no longer wary of why his father called him into the corridor. “How can I help you?”

William looked at his son, seeing such joy in the man’s face. The Patrick he’d known since birth had been a serious and somewhat intense individual, a man who was solely dedicated to the knighthood. But this Patrick was different… joyful, humorous, as if he found utter delight in life itself. William couldn’t have been more thrilled to see the change; it did his heart good to finally see his shining star happy.

“Tommy Orry wants to leave,” he said. “He seems to think that the longer he remains here, the more chance there is of it being discovered that he came. I have already given the man a few silver coins but I did not know if you intended to reward him as well.”

Patrick shook his head. “If you have already paid him, then I do not see the need for me to pay him as well,” he said, “but I will see him before he leaves. Where is he?”

“At the gatehouse.”

“Then I will go and see him. I owe the man a debt of gratitude.”

William waited while Patrick stuck his head back into his chamber to tell Brighton that he would return soon. He then followed his father down to the entry level and out into the bailey beyond, which was not particularly busy at this time of day. It was a very warm day and the flies were out in force, buzzing over people and animals, as William and Patrick made their way to the Douglas Tower.

On the way there, they caught sight of Alec upon the battlements, and Hector and Colm near the armory. Patrick didn’t see Anson or Damien but he knew the men were busy, somewhere, seeing to their tasks. He took a moment to drink it all in, this empire he commanded, appreciating it as he’d never appreciated it before. There was such a wonderful, vast world here that he couldn’t imagine being Henry’s Lord Protector would be any greater or make him any happier. Nay, he quite enjoyed his life here at Berwick and his reputation as Nighthawk. The addition of Brighton only made him realize how very special it all was to him and how grateful he was.

Aye, it was a fine and good day.

The cool innards of the guard’s room beckoned and he entered after his father. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. He saw Damien in the chamber near Tommy Orry, who was standing near the hearth with a bundle in his hand. When Damien saw William and Patrick enter, he went to the pair.

“The Scot is ready to depart,” he said. “I have provided him with enough provisions to get him back to his home and his horse has been readied.”

Patrick’s gaze lingered on Tommy. The man was still a dozen feet or so away from him. “Did he tell you anything more?” he asked Damien, his voice low.

Damien shook his head, turning away from Tommy as he spoke. “He told you everything,” he said. “I am fairly certain of that. But he did stress how volatile Richard Gordon is. He fears that man a great deal even though he seems to call him a friend.”

“Oh?”

“And there is something else– he told me that he and the mother prioress were fond of each other as children. They were not betrothed, but they were evidently lovers when they were young. That was before she was raped by someone from Clan Haye. That ended everything.”

That information confirmed to Patrick why the mother prioress would be so willing to see harm come to a bastard of the Haye Clan. But it didn’t explain why Tommy, who was supposedly in love with the mother prioress as a child, had betrayed her. But he supposed it didn’t really matter in the end. Putting a hand on Damien to silently thank him for the information, he took a few steps in Tommy Orry’s direction.

Tommy, who had been watching the English knights warily as they whispered to each other, straightened when the big knight came close.

“I’ve given ye all of the information I can,” he said to Patrick. “I must be a-leavin’ lest it be discovered that I came here. That wouldna bode well for me.”

Patrick could see that the man seemed nervous about it. “How would they even know?”

Tommy shrugged his thin shoulders. “Ye dunna know Richie,” he said. “He has gangs of men who do nothin’ but track others and spy upon them. I canna say for sure that I was followed, but ’tis possible. So I must leave.”

Patrick didn’t want to cause the man trouble since he had provided a very valuable piece of information for them, so he simply nodded his head.

“Then go,” he said. “Your horse is prepared. Know that we are grateful for your information.”

Tommy simply nodded, heading quickly from the guard’s chamber and out to his pony. The horse was waiting for him outside.

Without a hind glance at the Sassenachs, Tommy fled the gatehouse. He lost himself in the streets of Berwick, heading for the town gate that would purge him from the city and into the great north beyond.

Home.

?

It was a very fine day for travel as far as Tommy was concerned. He was barely an hour out of Berwick but he’d made excellent time on his sturdy pony under clear skies and light winds. The land was warm and green, with brooks bubbling deep in their carved-out trenches. His pony had chased a few rabbits out of their dens and birds soared overhead, happy in the sunshine.

In all, it was a lovely day and he was feeling content with himself. Days of battling with his conscience before he decided to ride to Berwick because it was a known de Wolfe property had ended well enough. He’d cleared his conscience and gained a few coins in the process. Although his loyalty should have been to Richard, he simply couldn’t support the man’s idea of crucifying an innocent woman.

Somehow, that kind of brutality pulled them all down into the mud of inhumaneness, and Tommy wasn’t that kind of a man. He had a soul and a heart, and he had compassion. Probably too much at times.

But he feared Richard; most of the men in the clan did. Richard’s father had been only slightly more benevolent but from somewhere in the family lines, Richard inherited an evil streak. Ysabella was simply a pawn in his game.

In a sense, Tommy felt as if he’d scored a victory against Richard by telling the Sassenach of Richard’s plan for the Coldingham lass. Although he never asked where the lass was, something told him she had been at Berwick from the way the knights were reacting to his information. Something told him that there was more to the lass’ presence there than met the eye.

Something personal.

His thoughts were lingering on the mysterious lass that seemed to be so important to not only Richard and Ysabella, but also to the English, too. A postulate that would now need to find a new priory where she could serve. But those were Tommy’s last peaceful thoughts as the foliage in front of him suddenly came alive with red grouse, all of them bursting out of the bushes and flying up to the sky. His pony startled a bit, as did Tommy, so he pulled the horse to a stop and watched the grouse fly off, wishing he had something to kill them with. They would have made a fine supper. But what came shooting out of the foliage next was not so fine.

Men were running out at him and someone knocked him on the back of the head. When Tommy came to, he was lying on his back staring up at Gordon men, men he recognized. But the face he recognized the most was that of Richard Gordon.

Dear God, it canna be!

His heart sank.

“Richie?” he said in disbelief. A hand went to the knot on the top of his head. “What’s happened?”

Richard, swathed in filthy woolens that were dark in color, the type of woolens they wore when he was hunting or had a need for stealth, glared down at Tommy.

“I woulda never believed it had I not seen it with me own eyes,” Richard said with disgust. “Not me Tommy, I would say. He wouldna betray me.”

Tommy’s heart began to pound against his ribs. He didn’t try to sit up, fearful that Richard might take that as a challenge.

“And I wouldna,” Tommy said, trying to sound firm and not frightened. “Why would ye say such things?”

Richard crouched down beside him. He wasn’t wearing braies, simply his woolens, and his dirty, hairy balls were visible as he crouched. Tommy didn’t like having the man so close to him, hairy balls and all.

“I will ask ye this and ye willna lie tae me,” Richard said. “Why did ye go tae Berwick?”

Terror was swelling in Tommy’s chest. “Who told ye I did?”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “I saw ye!” he snapped. “I was told ye left our village yesterday and ye said nothin’ to me about leavin’, so we followed ye. I couldna imagine where ye might go but we saw ye go intae Berwick. What business did ye have there?”

Tommy wasn’t sure if they actually saw him go into Berwick Castle or simply into the city. The situation might yet be salvageable and he grasped at the hope that all was not lost. But there was a small problem; he never actually thought what to tell Richard or his men if they asked for an explanation. He struggled not to panic as he thought up a reasonable excuse, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Can a man not go tae town for women he canna find in his own village?” he demanded, trying to make it sound as if he were doing something completely normal. “I went tae seek the comfort of a woman, if ye must know. Dunna tell me mother for she’ll accuse me of lyin’ in filth.”

Richard was unmoved by his speech. In fact, he seemed to grow even more intense. “Men saw ye goin’ tae the castle, Tommy,” he said. “Were there whores in the castle a-waitin’ for ye?”

So now Tommy knew what, exactly, they’d seen and he’d just perjured himself by stating he’d only gone whoring. Before he could open his mouth, a pair of Richard’s men flipped him onto his belly, right on the rocky road, and bent his arms up behind his back. Tommy began to scream.

“Oooch!” he cried as someone pushed his face into the dirt. “Richie! Why, Richie, why ?”

Richard stood over Tommy as his men bent his arms back, causing the man to scream in pain. But there was no remorse in Richard’s heart, not in the least.

“Why did ye go tae the castle, Tommy?” he asked calmly.

Tommy didn’t answer. He didn’t answer while Richard’s men bent his left arm back so far that they dislocated the elbow. As Tommy’s screams of agony could be heard, the men then flipped him onto his back and extended the dislocated arm as far as it would go. Someone put a foot on Tommy’s wrist, stomping down on it and breaking it when Tommy wouldn’t clearly answer any of Richard’s questions.

As Tommy writhed in agony, still more men frisked him, finding the silver coins that William had paid him. They turned the coins over to Richard, who looked at them in the palm of his hand as if they were the most telltale things he’d seen yet. Now, he was starting to grow angry.

“What did ye do for the Sassenachs that they would pay ye silver?” Richard asked, his temper starting to flare. “Paid ye silver like the Judas ye are, did they? What did ye tell them?”

Tommy lay on the road in utter anguish, knowing that if he didn’t tell them the truth, worse things were yet to come. His left arm was broken and useless, but his right arm was still functional; he knew that wouldn’t last if he didn’t tell them what they wanted to know. But he also knew that telling Richard why he had gone to Berwick would sign his death warrant.

“Please, Richie,” he breathed, spittle dripping from his lips. “I… I was lookin’ for the Coldingham lass for ye. I thought I could find her for ye bein’ that she is with de Wolfe.”

That statement brought some interest to Richard. “Is she at Berwick?”

Tommy clutched his left arm against his chest. “I dinna see her,” he said. “But I asked for the lass and they all acted… strangely. As if they had some bond with her. Berwick is close tae Swinton lands so I thought it would be the men from Berwick who would have taken the lass. ’Tis the Nighthawk’s lair, ye know. He lives at Berwick.”

“Did ye see him, then?”

“I… I think so.”

“But he dinna tell ye if she was at Berwick?”

“There is no other place she could be. If the Nighthawk took the lass from the Swinton, then he would take her back tae Berwick. More than that, William de Wolfe, himself, was there– isna he the man who wrote tae Ysabella and asked about the lass?”

A light went on in Richard’s eyes. “He was,” he agreed. “Then the lass must be at Berwick since William de Wolfe is there! What did ye say tae them, Tommy? What did they tell ye?”

Tommy was in so much pain that he could hardly speak. “I told them that I… I had come on behalf of Coldingham and that they wanted the lass returned. I… I even offered tae escort the lass back tae the priory meself. They wanted tae know why. They… they wouldna tell me more than that. If ye’ve been followin’ me, then ye know I wasna there for very long. I left quickly.”

“And the money on ye?”

“I told them me mother was sick.”

It was the only lie Tommy could come up with quickly enough and Richard knew it wasn’t the truth. He wasn’t clear why Tommy had gone to Berwick Castle but he didn’t much care at that point; he’d gotten what he wanted out of the man, which was the very real possibility that Ysabella’s postulate was there, guarded by the mighty Nighthawk and The Wolfe himself. But it didn’t seem to matter to him; simply knowing the lass was at Berwick fed his bloodlust because he wanted nothing more in the world that to get his hands on that woman regardless of who was guarding her. She belonged to him, didn’t she? He paid enough for her.

He wasn’t going to fail in his second attempt to take her.

“We tell the allies that the Sassenach at Berwick have somethin’ that belongs tae me,” he said to the man standing nearest to him. In fact, he was speaking to the half-dozen men who were standing around Tommy. “We’ll tell them that it was the Sassenach who raided Coldingham where my sister is the mother prioress. We’ll tell them that they took a lass, a Scots lass, tae whore with them at Berwick. We will rally the allies with the promise of Berwick’s riches if they help us save me sister’s postulate. I want that lass! She is mine!”

The man standing next to him, with curly auburn hair and dirty as if he’d never taken a bath in his life, didn’t seem convinced.

“Berwick is a big place, Richie,” he said. “Big walls, two gatehouses, and the river on one side o’ her. And she carries a big army.”

Richard wouldn’t be deterred. His face began to turn red. “Cowardly, ye are!” he snarled. “Berwick can be breached like any other castle if we get enough men. We build ladders and come in from the north, where there is only a wall between us and the keep. We can breach her, I say! Purge de Wolfe from the castle once and for all! Do ye know how many Scotsmen would rise tae the call if they thought they could defeat William de Wolfe? De Wolfe shall be our battle cry!”

With that, he turned away from Tommy, shouting for his horse and shouting his intention to destroy Berwick. He wanted the girl within the walls and he was going to rally as many allies as he could to get to her. Once he had the lass, he would invite the allies to be part of his vengeance against Clan Haye. His allies weren’t fond of Haye, in any case, so Richard knew he could reward them with riches from Berwick and the opportunity to see justice served.

Was it a mad dream? Probably. Even Richard was willing to admit that his battle plans smacked of madness. But he wanted the Haye lass badly enough that he didn’t care. He had been planning for that girl for too many years to let her go so easily. Now, it was his pride that had him in its grip, a pride instilled in him from his father and something he couldn’t let go. The more he shouted condemnation to those at Berwick, the more that pride got in his way.

He had set his own path, whether or not he truly believed it was the right one.

As Richard rode off towards the Gordon stronghold several miles away, the men that remained behind didn’t forget about Tommy. They tied his ankles up with hemp rope, secured the rope to his pony’s saddle, and smacked the pony on the behind so the animal spooked and took off down the road. Tommy took off right along with it.

And that was the end of Tommy Orry Gordon.

?

An hour after the departure of the Scots visitor, Anson and Colm entered the guard room to find Patrick, Damien, and William still inside, engaged in quiet conversation. Anson, who had been on the wall, went to a small table in the guard room to unload some of his heavy weaponry. On this warm day, wearing mail and leather was sticky on top of hot.

“So,” he said as he pulled off his mail hood, “I saw our Scotsman depart and disappear to the north. He seemed to be in a hurry.”

The group turned to look at him. “Why would you say that?” Patrick asked.

Anson went to the bucket of cool water near the door and poured a ladleful over his head, cooling himself. “Because he was moving at a clipped pace,” he said, wiping the water from his eyes. “He seemed to be eager to leave.”

Patrick shrugged. “We have been discussing the same thing,” he said. “Tommy expressed fear that he’d been followed here. It would make sense he would want to return to his lands as soon as possible.”

Anson shook the water from his hair and went on the hunt for the pitcher of watered wine that was always around for the men to drink. He found it over by the hearth and collected a cup. “I simply cannot believe he traveled all the way from Gordon lands to tell us about Richard Gordon’s plans for Lady de Wolfe,” he said. “It seems as if he went to great lengths for the enemy.”

Patrick followed him, taking another cup as Anson poured him something to drink. “Whatever his motives, I am grateful,” he said. “He must have had a serious attack of conscience to come. Or, mayhap, he simply needed the money.”

“Mayhap it was all a lie,” Colm said as he, too, unstrapped his sword and set it on the table next to Anson’s. The others looked at him curiously because Colm only spoke when he truly had something to say. He wasn’t one for idle chatter. “Mayhap, he came here to scout us out. Did you ever think of that? Mayhap, he told us that story as purely fiction simply to gain access to the castle.”

Patrick took a chair at the end of the table, considering his words. “But for what purpose?” he asked. “To see our weaknesses? We have none. And if he did come here to see the interior of Berwick, then he can return to Richard Gordon and tell him that Berwick is impenetrable.”

Colm sat at the table as well. “Mayhap,” he said. “But I just found his appearance very odd.”

“Odd, indeed,” William said. He, too, went to take a seat. “Let us presume that most of what he said was true– that the mother prioress is the sister of the chief of Clan Gordon and that Clan Gordon has a score to settle with Clan Haye. There is no purpose to even tell us that because we have no bearing on Clan Gordon. At Questing, we rarely deal with them because they are far to the north.”

Colm looked at William. “He came looking for you, my lord,” he said. “He asked for you by name. He was not sure you were here, but your appearance confirmed to him that you were. Mayhap… mayhap he was seeking intelligence on your location but told us that story on Lady de Wolfe to throw us off the truth of his appearance.”

Patrick looked at his father, seeing some evidence of believability in Colm’s statement. “So he finds you here,” Patrick said, “meaning you are away from Castle Questing.”

William lifted his eyebrows. “That simply means that I am here and nothing more,” he said, not wanting the men to start worrying when there was no reason to. “It is not as if Castle Questing is hugely vulnerable without me. Her army is still the largest one on the border.”

Patrick shook his head. “Nay, that is not what I meant. I meant they were looking for you . At some point, you will have to travel back to Castle Questing. It would be a fine prize for the Gordon to be lying in wait as you traveled home.”

It was an ominous thought. Now, no one was really certain about Tommy Orry’s appearance or why he had really come. Being that they had to deal with life and death situations on a daily basis, no one was taking anything for granted. Patrick turned to Colm.

“Have some men follow Tommy’s tracks to see if our suspicions hold any weight,” he commanded quietly. “Send your best men to track him. Surely, he will return home. But I want to know if his presence here was for another reason than what he told us. Mayhap, the man will return to build an army against my father, or worse.”

Colm nodded, rising from his seat and heading out of the guard room. While Patrick was nervous for his father’s safety now, William wasn’t concerned in the least.

“I do not think there is a horde of Scots waiting to ambush me as I return home,” he insisted quietly. “In fact, I was thinking on leaving today since we are not traveling to Coldingham.”

Patrick wasn’t keen on that idea. “Can you at least wait until Colm’s men return from following him? It would make me feel much better.”

“I do not believe it is necessary.”

“Please?”

William sighed sharply. “I think you are overreacting, Patrick. While I appreciate your caution, I do not believe there is any threat to me beyond the usual. Send me back to Questing with a few men-at-arms if it pleases you. But I would like to return today.”

Patrick knew how to play the stubborn game with his father. He was ready and willing to counter the man. “If you insist on leaving, I will tell Katheryn and Evie what we suspect with Tommy Orry. They will not let you go. I will pull forth the women into this if I must, Da. You will not be able to leave.”

William’s eye narrowed. “You would not dare do that.”

“Try me.”

The game was up and Patrick had won. Frustrated, William took the pitcher on the table and poured himself more wine. “Then have it your way,” he said. “It will give me more time to play with my grandchildren, I suppose. But Colm’s spies had better return within a few days or I will simply leave and not tell anyone.”

Patrick knew that wouldn’t happen with his knights on the prowl, knowing and seeing everything that went on at Berwick, but he didn’t comment. He simply nodded his head.

“Just a few days,” he said. “Besides… I plan to leave tomorrow for London and I would like for you to remain with Bridey for a little while. I would feel better if you did.”

Now, he was playing on his father’s sympathies for Brighton and William knew it. He also knew he was sunk because he understood the situation with Patrick leaving his wife behind. It was a painful thing for them both. Resigned to the fact that he would stay at Berwick for a few days, he downed half of his cup.

“As you wish,” he said. “How is she doing, by the way? Is she calmer now?”

Patrick nodded. “She is. But I can see the fear in her eyes and that disturbs me terribly. It makes me feel guilty, as if I am helpless to protect her.”

Damien, seated at Patrick’s right hand, spoke softly. “You are not helpless,” he said. “Even though you go to London, you have all of us to protect your wife. I’ve not had much time to speak to the woman but I look forward to coming to know her. Any woman who could capture your heart is one worth knowing.”

He was grinning, which caused Patrick to grin. He slapped an affectionate hand against the man’s shoulder. “She is sweet and gentle, but there is strength in her,” he said. “She is now in charge of the keep and you will obey her orders as if they are my own. Make sure the men understand that.”

“I will. But I do not want you to worry while you are in London. We shall protect her with our lives.”

Patrick sobered. “I know you will,” he said. He looked between Anson and Damien, two men he trusted implicitly. “I will confess that I am not eager to leave but it is necessary. I told you earlier today in the great hall when we were discussing Richard Gordon and the threats against my wife that I will not be accepting Henry’s royal appointment, so I must face the king when I explain my reasons. Although my body may be in London, my mind and spirit will be here, at Berwick. It gives me considerable peace knowing Bridey has you men to protect her. It means everything to me.”

It was a surprisingly emotional statement from their usually emotionless commander. Damien lifted his cup to him in salute.

“We will take good care of her while you are away,” he said. “And if I have not yet congratulated you on your sudden and surprising marriage, then allow me to do so. I wish you and your wife the best, Patrick, I truly do. You are most deserving of happiness.”

Patrick smiled modestly, tapping his cup against Damien’s and then Anson’s when the man held his cup aloft as well. “Thank you, my friends,” he said. “And I am truly happy, mayhap for the first time in my life. Your congratulations and support mean a great deal.”

“You will always have it, Atty,” Damien said quietly.

Patrick knew that. As the day progressed towards evening, Patrick sat with his men in the guard’s room, drinking and reliving old memories and glories. It was a wonderful day, in truth, and something he very much needed, bonding with his men on a deeper and more meaningful level. Men that would be there for Brighton when he could not be.

As the sun began to wane, he left the guard’s room and headed back to the keep where he had to hunt his wife down, eventually finding her in the kitchen with Evelyn. The kitchen of Berwick was part of the building complex, built in stone and sunk into the earth like a sublevel.

Patrick found his wife in the hot kitchen helping the cook sprinkle herbs on bread that was meant for the oven. He would never forget the look of joy on her face. Her red, hot little face was so very happy to be useful and to have found her place in the world, as the wife of a great knight. Patrick couldn’t ever remember seeing the woman quite so thrilled and it did his heart tremendous good to see it. Like him, she was both content and delighted with what life had brought her.

But he didn’t want to share her with the kitchen tonight. Patrick eventually convinced her to leave the cook to her tasks, alone, and they retreated to their chamber, at first to wash and change for the coming meal. But soon enough, it was simply to spend their last night together without having to share one another with anyone. Patrick made love to his wife slowly, gently, tasting her flesh, memorizing the curves of her body, so he could remember those things on the nights to come that would be particularly lonely.

On the nights when his longing for her was tearing him apart.

On into the darkness their lovemaking went until Brighton fell into an exhausted sleep a few hours before morning. Patrick lay there with her in his arms, watching her sleep, not wanting to relinquish one moment of it but he, too, eventually fell asleep, woken only when the guards changing shifts on the wall before dawn captured his attention. He arose then and dressed in silence as his wife slept peacefully a few feet away.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her. He loved seeing her slumbering so sweetly and their farewells had already been said during the night, with every kiss and every touch. He gently kissed her cheek and slipped from the room, departing the gates of Berwick as the sun finally peeked over the eastern horizon.

His memories of Brighton were tucked deep into his heart and her lock of hair was tucked deep into his tunic, in a pocket right over the left side of his breast.

Close to his beating heart.