Page 79

CHAPTER TWO

“F orbes is the one they call ‘Sach’.”

Baron Buckland looked at the man who spoke. “What does that mean?”

Sir David de Lohr, Baron Thornden, wriggled his blond eyebrows, noticing that Forbes was entering the smelly, smoky hall in the company of a very beautiful woman.

De Lohr and Baron Buckland sat at the far end of the long, scrubbed table, enjoying the heat from the enormous hearth and the fine alcohol. Now their focus was on the pair approaching from the darkened entry.

“It is an abbreviated Celtic name,” de Lohr told him quietly. “It means ‘insane’.”

Julian de Moyon, Baron Buckland, lifted his dark eyebrows. “Insane?” he repeated. “The man is mad?”

De Lohr shrugged vaguely, collecting his half-drained cup of tart port wine. “Not in the literal sense,” he said, his voice lowering as Forbes drew near. “But there is no one fiercer on the field of battle or in the face of adversity. He is absolutely fearless and skilled beyond compare.”

Julian’s gaze moved between the enormous knight with the shaved head and chiseled features, and his wife as they approached the table.

“He is a giant,” he commented quietly. “Look at the size of his hands.”

De Lohr nodded slightly as he lifted his cup. “Those hands can rip a man’s head from his body. I have seen it myself. I pity the man who truly enrages Forbes.”

Julian looked at him, shocked, as Gart and Emberley reached the table. Emberley’s warm smile turned into something forced as she focused on her husband.

“My lord,” she addressed him. “This is Sir Gart Forbes, a man who was friends with my brother long ago. Gart and I knew each other when we were very young.”

Julian eyed Gart, more focused on his wife. “Get out,” he snapped. “The men have business to conduct.”

Emberley’s smile faded and her cheeks turned red, reflexive reaction to her husband’s humiliation. He hadn’t even acknowledged her polite introduction, which wasn’t unusual. Still, she was embarrassed even though she should have been used to the treatment after all of these years.

“I will bid you gentlemen a good eve,” she said politely to the table, turning to Gart one last time. “I hope to see you before you leave so we may finish our conversation.”

Before Gart could reply, Julian slammed his fist against the table. “I told you to leave, woman. Go before I take my hand to you.”

Gart eyed the baron, looking to Emberley and seeing how ashamed she was. He didn’t like the way the man spoke to her. His first impression of the baron was not a good one. He smiled at Emberley, a gesture that those who knew him did not believe he was capable of. Gart Forbes was not a man who smiled, in any case.

“I will not leave before speaking with you, my lady,” he said kindly. “Good eve to you.”

Emberley’s trembling smile turned real as she silently thanked him for his graciousness. Gathering her skirts, she fled the hall as Gart watched. His gaze lingered on the empty doorway a moment, thinking of Emberley and her three wild, beasty boys before returning his attention to the table. Seeing the baron and his crass manners, he was coming to see why the boys behaved as they did. He was coming not to like what he was seeing.

But he was a mere knight and his opinion was not of issue. He did what he was told to do and served whoever his liege directed. Without a word he sat down, collecting his cup and taking a large measure of wine only to realize that Julian was staring at him. Gart stared back, noting the small, dark-haired man with the bushy mustache.

“You are Forbes?” Julian confirmed.

Gart nodded shortly. “Aye, my lord.”

“I have heard much of your abilities.”

Gart simply nodded and Julian sat forward in his seat. He seemed to be taking a good deal of interest in studying him. The man was enormous, no doubt. Everything about him was big, from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his massive feet. His voice was so deep that it seemed to bubble up from the ground. But it was his eyes that had Julian’s attention– they had a sinister and calculating look about them.

As Julian gazed at the man, he could see why the soldiers had nicknamed him “Sach”. From what he could see, it suited him.

“I understand you have been in Normandy for the past year, fighting on the king’s behalf,” Julian finally said.

Gart regarded the baron, his hand tightening around his cup. “I have, my lord,” he replied.

“How did the battles fare?”

“My lord?”

“Were they well supplied and well commanded?”

Gart wasn’t sure of the motivation behind the question but he nodded. “They were, my lord.”

Julian digested the answer and, satisfied, moved on. “Am I to understand that you know my wife?”

“I do, my lord,” Gart answered. “Her brother and I were the best of friends until his death in The Levant.”

Julian snorted as he collected his wine cup. “Then you know she has always been a beautiful girl,” he took a long drink of wine and smacked his lips. “She has provided me with three fine sons, perhaps the only thing that keeps her useful to me other than her obvious beauty.”

Gart didn’t react to the statement although he didn’t like the way the man said it. Having nothing to say to him, he returned to his drink as Julian turned to the baron seated to his left.

“Does he know that you are sending him back to France?” he asked.

David glanced at Gart. “That has not been decided yet,” he said evenly. “I am here to discuss the possibility. You and my brother are allies and he has asked me to come to Dunster to hear of your situation. I was told there was an issue with your lands in France.”

Julian shook his head. “Not my lands,” he said. “The queen’s lands. Even as John fights to regain what he has lost in Normandy, his wife also has lands that are compromised. She needs protection and I have sworn to help her.”

De Lohr wasn’t too quick to support his claim. “What do you have to do with the queen?”

Julian smiled lazily, toying with his cup. “Have you not heard, my friend?” he flicked a careless wrist. “The queen and I are madly in love. She has my heart and I would do anything for her, including defending her lands against Philip Augustus. The French king envies her properties near Angouleme and I have sworn to keep them safe, which is why I need your assistance.”

De Lohr sighed faintly. He had heard from his brother, the powerful Earl of Hereford and Worcester, that Baron Buckland was something of a political player and an opportunist. The man had rich lands, however, and a great deal of money and manpower, and spent a great deal of time in London soliciting the favor of the king. It seemed that he had garnered the favor of the queen instead.

“Surely she has enough troops,” David said. “She cannot possibly need more men.”

Julian poured himself more wine. “She is afraid,” he said. “Afraid of the French king, afraid of her own mother who rules similar lands… the woman needs help and I have sworn to obtain it. Will you not supply me with men and knights for this purpose?”

It was evident that David was resistant. Gart stayed out of the conversation, listening to his liege and Buckland go back and forth on what was, and was not, appropriate support. Gart had served de Lohr for six years and knew the man and his family were rigidly opposed to John. They had been strong supporters of Richard until four years ago when the man was killed in France. Then, they had no choice but to support John as the rightful king. It was something that still left a bad taste in their mouths.

Gart sat at the table for quite some time listening to the arguing and pleading. He ate, he drank, and he generally grew weary of the bickering. Finally excusing himself just after midnight, he intended to return to the stables to collect his bags and then find a warm corner of Dunster to sleep in. He was exhausted and decided to let the barons do their bickering alone. He had no say in it, anyway.

Taking the spiral stairs down to the entry level, he could see remnants of white powder on the floor and steps. He half-expected the three little hooligans to come jumping out at him again and knew, reasonably, that they would be in bed and long asleep by now. Quitting the keep, he took the wooden stairs to the bailey and proceeded across the dark, dusty ward.

The moon was full overhead, casting the landscape in an eerie silver glow. Gart glanced up at the sky, seeing a million stars spread across the dark expanse. It was a beautiful night and unseasonably clear.

As he lowered his gaze in search of the stables, he could see the sentries upon the battlements as pinpoints of torch light moved through the darkness. Somewhere, a dog barked. Just as the stables came into view to the northeast section of the castle, his gaze fell upon a small and lone figure near the northeast tower.

He wouldn’t have paid any attention except the figure turned and began to walk, and he noticed immediately that it wasn’t a soldier. It was too small and too finely wrapped. Drawing closer, he realized he was gazing up at a woman as she walked the battlements.

Not only was it very late for a lone woman to be taking a nightly stroll, it was also unsafe. Only someone very comfortable with her position within the castle would show such confidence walking alone. Curious, he made his way to the northeast turret and took the stairs to the battlements.

The battlements were long and narrow, perched high on the walls of Dunster. There was a thirty-foot drop to the bailey below as he made his way along the narrow walkway. He could see the cloaked figure ahead of him, heading in the direction of the gatehouse. He picked up his pace, passing a couple of sentries, to catch up with her.

“My lady?” he said when he came to within a few feet of her.

Startled, Emberley spun around and nearly lost her balance. Gart quickly reached out to grab her so she wouldn’t topple over the side. When he was sure she was steady, he immediately dropped his hands.

“God’s Bones,” Emberley cursed softly, patting her chest as if to restart her heart. “You frightened me.”

He smiled, his strong feature shadowed in the moonlight. “My apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to.”

Emberley wasn’t truly upset and she returned his smile to let him know. “I know you did not,” she replied, studying him for a brief moment. Her gaze moved over his features in a warm, comforting manner. “I was lost in thought and did not hear you approach.”

“Surely there are safer places to lose oneself in thought. Why are you on the battlements?”

She gazed across the wilds of Somerset beyond the castle walls. “I do not sleep well and walking helps me to relax,” she told him. “Many are the nights I have spent upon this wall walk.”

His eyes glimmered in understanding. “I know the feeling well,” he said quietly. “I do not sleep well, either. Even now, I am exhausted from a week in the saddle but I do not know if I will be able to sleep.”

Her smile grew. “Perhaps if you stay here any length of time, you and I will keep each other sorry company on nightly walks.”

He flashed his teeth, big and straight and white. “There are worse things I can think of.”

She laughed softly, leaning against the battlement wall as a night bird sang overhead. In the still of the night, it was calm and soothing. Emberley seemed to be staring at Gart quite intently. From the expression on her face, there seemed to be more on her mind than sleepless nights.

“May I ask you a question?” she finally asked.

“Of course.”

“How much did my children steal from you?”

His smile faded and his eyebrows lifted. “Why would you ask that?”

She sighed heavily. “I know what they were doing in the entry earlier this eve,” she said softly. “You do not have to pretend. I know they were robbing you.”

He shook his head. “They did not rob me.”

She cocked her head as if she didn’t believe him. “Gart,” she lowered her voice reprovingly. “Do not lie for them. I know what they do. They do it to everyone that enters the keep.”

He chewed his lip thoughtfully and averted his gaze, leaning on the battlements just as she was. His eyes moved out over the shadowed land.

“How would you know this?”

She sighed with exasperation. “Because many visitors have told me this,” she said. “They give them money simply to keep the peace. But I make the boys give it back. If they have stolen from you, please….”

He put up a hand to stop her, turning to look at her lovely face. She was a positively exquisite creature, made more beautiful by the haunting moonlight. As he gazed into her lovely eyes, her beauty nearly erased every thought in his head. It was a struggle to speak rationally.

“They did not steal from me because I did not have any money on my person,” he told her. “Therefore, I am not lying to protect them. They did not rob me.”

“But they tried.”

He reluctantly nodded. “They did.”

She held his gaze a moment longer before looking away and shaking her head. “Their motives are so complex,” she said. “Romney believes that money will buy things to make Lacy and I happy.”

“Lacy?”

“Their two-year-old sister,” she explained softly. Then she started throwing her hands around as she spoke. “They rob anyone who enters the keep or, as Romney explains it, they exact a toll from visitors, and then the boys escape the castle and run off into town to purchase things. One time they purchased perfume for me and another time it was a belt, which I am sure they stole. Unless they robbed the king, they could not have afforded it. It terrifies me that they do this. I am afraid that one of these days, they will fall victim to bandits or wild animals. It is not safe for them outside of these walls.”

“Nor is it safe for visitors inside of the walls with those three on the loose.”

She looked at him and burst out in giggles. “This is serious,” she chided him, although she was grinning. “I am nearly at my wits end with them. I apologize that they tried to rob you, Gart. You must think me horrible for raising such terrible children.”

He looked at her, a smile playing on his full lips. “I think your children are bold and clever,” he said, although it was not quite the truth. “Why do they feel the need to buy you nice things?”

Her smile faded and he could sense her manner becoming guarded. She looked away, off towards the forests to the east. The silence that followed was heavy as she thought on her answer.

“Things… things are not entirely pleasant here,” she said, vaguely. “I suppose they think that gifts can make them better.”

He watched her profile in the moonlight, a long and pregnant pause. “You are not happy.”

It was a statement and not a question. Emberley shrugged. “I have four beautiful children,” she said with feigned enthusiasm. “There is much to be thankful for.”

He shifted, inadvertently moving closer to her in the process. “I did not question your gratitude,” he said. “I questioned your happiness.”

She shrugged again, still not meeting his eye. “It does not matter if I am happy or not. My children are healthy and we have much to be thankful for.”

He sighed faintly, knowing he shouldn’t involve himself in something that did not concern him, but unable to resist. He had known Emberley since childhood. He had seen her grow up for the most part. With Erik gone, he almost felt compelled to act in the man’s place, to perhaps advise or console her. It was a foolish thought but he couldn’t help himself.

“Does your husband always speak to you so rudely?” he asked quietly.

She looked at him as if startled by the question. “It is his way,” she said rather lamely. “It is his right.”

“I know what his rights are,” Gart said. “I would suspect by the way he spoke to you that he does it quite regularly.”

In the moonlight, Emberley’s cheeks flushed dully. “It is his way,” she repeated softly.

“Perhaps it is, but I do not like it,” Gart said. “Based upon that observation, I will ask another question.”

“What question is that?”

“Has he ever struck you?”

She hung her head, refusing to look at him. “Gart, I am sure you are asking out of concern, but it truly is none of your affair.”

He watched her lowered head, her lovely profile, seeing tears pooling in her eyes. He suddenly felt very, very angry as he realized the truth. She didn’t even have to tell him. He knew.

“So he takes his hands to you,” he rumbled. “’Tis a vile, foul man that would strike a woman.”

Emberley took a deep breath and wiped quickly at her eyes before the tears could fall. When she turned to look at him, he could read the anxiety on her face.

“I appreciate your concern,” she whispered, laying a soft, white hand on his wrist. “I truly do. But you must not ask me any more questions. You would not like the answers and if Julian found out, he would not like that I have told you.”

His jaw flexed. “Your husband was quite eager to announce to the men in the hall that he and the queen were lovers,” he said. “Is this true?”

She yanked her hand away from his wrist and he would never forget the expression on her face. It was something between disgust and shame. Turning on her heel, she tried to rush away from him but he was on her in an instant, his colossal hands grasping her slender arms. She tried to shrug him off but he wouldn’t budge.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped. “I do not see where my husband’s affairs are any business of yours.”

He cooled, releasing her. She stepped away from him but she didn’t run. She faced him defensively and he backed off.

“You are correct,” he agreed calmly. “They are not my business. I suppose since your only brother was my best friend, perhaps I was showing interest on his behalf. It is simply that I look at you and see that young girl who used to follow Erik around and…forgive me. I should not have overstepped myself. I was only concerned.”

Emberley gazed at the man, cooling significantly at his placating words. Then she sighed heavily as if all of the fight suddenly left her. Her defensive mechanism was always close to the surface, preparing to defend her tender heart from her cruel husband and his cruel words. She realized she need not be defensive with Gart. For as long as she’d known him, she’d never once heard of him showing women any manner of cruelty.

“You need not ask forgiveness,” she said, remorseful. “It is I who must ask for your grace. I should not have snapped so. I know you are only asking out of concern.”

He gazed steadily at her. “Great concern,” he corrected gently. “Erik would ask this of me.”

She smiled gratefully. “I know,” she whispered. “I miss him very much.”

“As do I.”

“You are a good friend, Gart,” she said. “When you were not upsetting my mother, I know she looked upon you as a son.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I am thinking that Erik and I were much like your boys– into great mischief and mayhem in our youth.”

She laughed softly. “Then perhaps you will not think me such a terrible mother that my boys rob anyone who enters the keep.”

He was glad to see she was no longer tense and angry with him, thinking he would try yet again to get at the truth of the matter now that he seemed to have broken her defenses down.

“I never thought you a terrible mother,” he said quietly. “But I would like to know the truth of your husband’s treatment of you.”

Her smile faded as she gazed up at him. “Why?” she lifted her shoulders. “There is nothing you can do. He is my husband and may do as he pleases.”

Gart knew that and somehow, it hurt his heart. He knew it would have hurt Erik’s. “Is he truly the queen’s lover?” he asked quietly.

She nodded without emotion. “They have been lovers for almost a year,” she replied. “I do not know what she sees in Julian other than his wealth. He is a terrible character and a horrible….”

She trailed off, embarrassed at divulging more information than she should, and Gart’s expression grew serious.

“I am truly sorry,” he said in his soft, deep voice. “You do not deserve such disrespect. The man is a fool.”

Her smile returned, weakly. “You are very kind.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it. It is true.”

Her smile grew, now modest. “I appreciate your concern. It has done my heart good to see you, Gart. You remind me of better days.”

Her words, kind and sweet, softened him. His heart began to beat strangely in his chest as he reached out and took her small hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“It has done my heart a world of good to see you,” he said softly. “I see Erik in your eyes and it comforts me.”

Gart’s warm kiss on her hand made Emberley’s breathing quicken. She was taken back to the days when he was a handsome, very young man and she was his adoring public. He had grown into such a magnificent man she could hardly believe it. She wondered how different her life would have been had she had not married Julian. If only Gart could have been her husband… but no . She chased the thought away as quickly as it came. It would do no good for her to long for a man she could never have. That opportunity was long gone.

“I am glad,” she squeezed his hand and let it go. “Perhaps we will have more opportunity to speak in the next few days. Do you know when you are leaving?”

He shook his head, wishing she hadn’t let go of his hand. Her touch had been magic.

“I do not,” he told her. “My liege and your husband are debating that as we speak.”

She pulled her cloak more tightly around her slender body. The evening was growing cool and damp in spite of the bright moonlight.

“Then perhaps tomorrow we may….”

She was cut off when something hit the wall just behind Gart. Startled, he jumped forward and threw his arms around her to protect her. But it was the wrong move. Standing several feet behind him was Julian. The arrow he held in his left hand, the second of two he had collected from the armory after spying his wife and Forbes upon the battlements, went sailing in Gart’s direction. Gart put up an armored arm and easily deflected it.

Unwinding his arms from Emberley and turning to face Julian as the man approached, Gart could tell by his face that they were in for a good deal of trouble.

“Whore!” Julian screamed.

Gart remained cool, keeping Emberley protectively behind him. “My lord,” he said evenly. “Your wife and I were discussing days past when we knew each other. We were discussing her dead brother.”

Julian’s thin face was livid. He approached Gart and slugged him in the chest, although with Gart’s size and Julian’s diminutive stature, Gart hardly felt the blow. Still, the implication was obvious.

“You are alone with my wife,” he snarled. “You had your arms around her in a disgraceful embrace. How dare you violate my hospitality by taking my wife and… and wooing her.”

Gart shook his head. “I did not violate anything, my lord,” he was calm and steady. “Your wife and I knew each other as children and were discussing….”

Julian cut him off by shoving him back and reaching around to grab Emberley by the wrist. He pulled hard and she stumbled, nearly toppling over the side of the wall railing. Gart grabbed her to keep her from going over but Julian was wild with fury– he pounded on Gart’s steadying arm even as he yanked at his wife.

Emberley didn’t put up a fight but she was trying to keep her balance as he yanked. Sensing her hesitation as resistance, Julian slapped her hard across the face.

“I will deal with you, you treacherous whore,” he snarled, lifting his hand to strike her again. “You are a….”

Before he could bring the hand down, Gart reached out and grabbed it. Julian turned to scream at him but was faced with an expression so tense, so deadly, that the words died in his throat.

De Lohr was suddenly on the battlements, as were several other de Lohr soldiers, and they were moving for Gart in a group, trying to pull him away from Buckland. Even Emberley, her right cheek stinging from the slap, reached out and grasped Gart by the arm.

“Gart, no,” she whispered, begging. “Please let him go.”

Gart heard her, as he also heard his liege behind him, firmly and quietly ordering him to let the baron’s arm go. But at the moment, Gart could only see Buckland. From a man he had initially found distasteful and displeasureable, that displeasure had grown into full-blown loathing quickly. All he could see was a weak, bully of a man and he hated him for it.

“You will not strike her ever again,” he growled. “Is that clear?”

Julian was torn between fear and outrage. “You cannot make demands of me!” he howled. “I will do as I please with my own wife!”

Emberley’s soft voice infiltrated Gart’s rage. “Please, Gart,” she begged softly. “Please let him go.”

Her sweet, pleading voice broke through his haze of rage and he tore his eyes away from Buckland long enough to look at her. She mouthed the world “ please ”, her big eyes beseeching him, and he reluctantly let the man’s hand go. But Julian wasn’t a smart man– he slugged Emberley in the jaw simply to demonstrate his power and Gart went straight for his neck.

Emberley screamed as she fell onto the wall walk, trapped beneath Julian as Gart tried to break the man’s neck. But soldiers and knights were swarming over them and someone pulled her free of the fighting. Shaken, she looked up to see that it was de Lohr. His handsome face was taut as he made sure she was secure before diving into the fray.

Terrified for Gart, Emberley positioned herself back against the wall as she watched eight men pull Gart off her husband. He was such a big man and fed by such anger that his strength had been astounding. Julian was unhurt but he was furious, screaming threats at Gart. Knowing his wrath would eventually be turned against her, Emberley wisely fled the wall walk and raced for the keep, hearing the angry voices behind her filling the night with foul language and brutality.

Heart pounding, Emberley mounted the steps into the keep, running up the spiral stairs until she reached her children’s chambers on the third floor. Scooping sleeping Lacy out of her bed, she fled into the boys’ bower and closed the door, throwing the heavy bolt behind her. It would take an army to break the old door down and all of the pounding and screaming Julian would do could not breach it. She knew she was safe, at least for the moment.

With her daughter still sleeping heavily in her arms, Emberley sank to the floor and wept.