Montague - The Warlord Part 27

"You have until nightfall to claim your son's life, Dunmore MacLeith. Open the gates and I will promise your men safe pa.s.sage to Scotland. If the gates remain closed at nightfall, your son hangs. Until your surrender or his death, he receives a score of lashes each hour."

Kenric kicked his horse away from the post, closer to the gates of the fortress. He gazed up at the wall where he knew Dunmore MacLeith stood, knowing MacLeith would think Kenric was looking directly at him.

"You know of me, MacLeith. You know I carry the t.i.tle of Butcher for good reason. Do these gates remain closed at daybreak, I will raze these walls until no two stones stand atop each other and destroy whatever I find within. The fact that Remmington Castle is my property will not make my sword fall any lighter. The gold weighs heavy in my chests from many campaigns and I can well afford to build another. If you remain behind those walls at daybreak, gaze well at the hills beyond you, MacLeith, for you will never walk them again."

Kenric's warhorse backed away from the gates in measured steps. He finally turned the animal and slowly circled the post where Gordon was tied. Gordon remained silent, knowing there was no possibility of mercy in the warlord's eyes.

The night fell so quietly that crickets could be heard in the surrounding fields and the occasional hoot of an owl in the nearby forest. But the peaceful sounds of the night were shattered by Gordon's pleas and shrieks of fear as he was dragged to a tall, graceful oak tree. Silence fell abruptly and one by one, the crickets began to chirp again.

Later that night, Kenric lay on his cot with a drained flask of wine at his side. He felt no remorse for his actions that day. Such was the responsibility of his rank. If anything, he'd given Gordon an easy death, a much more merciful death than the man deserved. He'd just ended the life of a man who inflicted more pain than could possibly be received in one day as retribution. What mattered most was the fact that his wife was safe forever from Gordon. Only the father remained.

Tess rolled to her side and punched the straw pillow again, longing for the comfort of her own bed. Kenric's bed. How could she have forgotten so quickly what it was like to live with only the meanest comforts? She looked across the small monk's cell to see Helen sleeping soundly on her own straw pallet, surprised that the tiny window allowed enough moonlight to see anything.

"Close your eyes, Tess."

Tess sat up on her pallet and searched the shadowy corners of the room. The thought was her own, but the words seemed to be spoken aloud in a deep male voice. Nerves, Tess decided, lying back down. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what her husband would be doing at that moment. It was late and he would doubtless be asleep in his tent. She pictured him lying on his cot, one arm resting across his forehead, the other on his chest. Tess sighed and drifted into sleep.

In her dream she joined Kenric on the cot, smiling when he opened his arms in his sleep to wrap her safely within them. She lay there contentedly for a time until the flap of Kenric's tent opened and a man stepped through. She didn't feel fear or surprise when she recognized her father, but a strong sense of contentment tinged by sadness. The lines of his face, blurred by memory, came into sharp focus with the flood of a thousand memories. She'd forgotten what a big man her father was. He smiled down at her, then his gaze traveled to the sleeping form of her husband and he nodded his approval. Tess returned the smile and rose from the cot, taking the hand he extended to her. They walked through the flap of the tent to the camp outside, making their way around several dying campfires until they stood beneath the walls of Remmington. Her father gazed up at the walls for a long time and Tess could sense an overwhelming sadness that he should be standing outside his own walls, the enemy safely within.

"Look closely, my child." Tess didn't see his lips move but heard his voice just the same. Her father pointed up at a long, narrow drainage pipe that descended from one tower, the tower housing the kitchens. "My castle has but one flaw."

As Tess watched, shadowy figures of soldiers emerged from the night, creeping stealthily toward the drainpipe. They were not soldiers at all, merely the dark shadows men would cast against the wall. The black outline of a phantom ladder was leaned against the wall and the men began to climb, a slight man first, to test the pipe's strength. One by one they climbed until more than a score of soldiers were inside the walls.

"You know the layout of the castle," her father said, looking over his shoulder, but not at Tess. " 'Tis your skill from there that will carry you to victory or defeat."

Tess glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Kenric standing there. He nodded solemnly at her father's words.

"Return to your dreams, daughter." Tess's father laid a gentle hand across her eyes.

Tess felt rested and completely at peace, as if something important had been accomplished. The memory of a misty dream floated across her senses and she struggled awake, thinking she would better remember the dream without sleep dulling her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Helen's empty pallet. She searched the dark room until she spied her sister-in-law, her back flattened against the wall in one corner of their room, her eyes wide with fright.

"You saw him, too?" Tess whispered, the memory of the dream rus.h.i.+ng forward to greet her. Helen jerked her head forward to nod.

"Milord?"

Kenric tore his gaze from the drainpipe, surprised that Tess and her father no longer stood before him. His eyes were glazed, not quite focused when he turned to stare at Fitz Alan.

"Kenric, are you awake?" Fitz Alan asked, his voice a low whisper so the MacLeith soldiers on the wall above them wouldn't hear. They were easy targets and within close range of the enemy's archers. He'd noticed Kenric leaving his tent and followed him here to the foot of the south tower. Something in Kenric's manner made Fitz Alan hesitate to call out to him or even place a restraining hand on his arm until now. It was as if the baron moved in a daze, walking as a man does in his sleep, with his eyes wide open but unseeing. Though the night was warm, the blank look in Kenric's eyes sent a s.h.i.+ver down Fitz Alan's spine. "We must be away from here, milord. The moon is too bright to stand this close to the enemy."

Fitz Alan waited a moment then took Kenric by the arm when the man made no move on his own. He led Kenric as quietly as possible back to his tent, relieved when they pa.s.sed none of their soldiers who would question their lord's strange manner. Kenric seemed to rouse from his strange state the moment they entered his tent.

"I have found the flaw, Fitz Alan," Kenric said quietly. He lit the tall candle near his cot then opened a small trunk. The layout of Remmington Castle that he'd drawn with his wife's a.s.sistance was unrolled and Kenric motioned to Fitz Alan to sit next to him so they could study the map.

Fitz Alan listened in amazement as Kenric laid out his plan for taking the castle. The next night, while the castle slept, twenty men would scale the drainpipe that led to a window above the kitchens. There they would subdue the servants within, or lock them in one of the storage bins if they seemed unlikely to raise a warning. From there the men would make their way to the walks of the curtain wall. With luck, the few guards standing watch there could be silenced quietly and they would reach the gatehouse with little or no fighting.

The plan went better than Kenric expected. Not only did he and his men reach the gatehouse without a warning being sounded, they found most of the guards within the strategic point sound asleep. The chains holding the drawbridge in place were easily struck and the portcullises raised, allowing Kenric's army to pour into the castle before the enemy was fully awake. His soldiers moved quickly to the donjon, taking the great tower before the MacLeiths could move to that last haven of safety.

The sounds of battle rang within the walls of Remmington for no more than three hours. It was almost too easy. Those who did not die in battle were herded into the dungeons. Kenric released the poor souls he found incarcerated there and ordered them from the fortress, certain their crimes could not be so great as their captors'. Then it was time to search for Dunmore MacLeith. Though each prisoner was questioned, none knew or would tell where the lord could be found. Kenric began to worry that MacLeith had found a way out of the castle through some secret pa.s.sage.

To his great pleasure, it was Kenric who finally flushed his enemy from cover. He was searching the highest floor of the north tower when a garderobe door sprang open, its occupant bursting from the interior with a flash of deadly blades. Kenric recognized his foe immediately from his wife's descriptions and his smile was cold and unforgiving as he drew his own sword.

"Ye'd best say your prayers," the old man warned, finding his own smile when Kenric ordered his men to back away. MacLeith crouched down to a.s.sume his battle stance, circling in slow, measured steps around his enemy. "I'll no turn o'er this fortress to the likes o' you, Montague. 'Tis said Death guides your sword, but the Devil guides mine."

Kenric tracked MacLeith's movements with the tip of his sword, content to wait for the attack. "Before this day is out, you will convey my respects personally to whoever you meet on the other side."

"It comes down to the two of us," MacLeith said, drawing small circles in the air with the claymore he held in his right hand. His left held an equally deadly dirk. "I'll be having your word that your men will honor my victory when I slit your gullet."

Kenric shook his head. "You will not leave here alive. If lightning strikes me dead this moment, you'll have to fight every one of my men between here and your grave."

The older man shrugged almost imperceptibly, as if he'd already known the answer. "Then I'd best get started."

The words weren't even out of his mouth before his claymore struck steel, lunging forward to meet the Butcher's sword head-on. MacLeith was a skilled warrior, but not so skilled as Kenric. Their swords rang out in the fierce song of battle, but no more than half an hour pa.s.sed before MacLeith knew his defeat lay moments away. Worst of all, it was obvious the Butcher of Wales meant to take him alive. Blows that should have brought his death were turned at the last moment to deal deep, vicious slashes to his arms and chest, his armor no match for the strength behind the sword that sliced into his body. Backing toward the door, Dunmore moved onto the battlements.

The wind blew fiercely at this height and MacLeith swayed against it, backing away from the man who stalked him. There was no hope of escape, not even the hope of a quick death at the hands of the victor. Recognizing the fire that burned deep in his enemy's eyes, Dunmore knew he would be punished long and dearly for his crimes. He spared one last glance at the walls of Remmington Castle, sorry he'd wielded the power that came with such a fortress for only five short years. He backed away again to put a few more feet between them, thankful the Butcher was certain enough of his victory to provide the opening he needed.

Kenric didn't realize MacLeith's intent until it was too late. One moment the grizzled warrior looked old and defeated, the next, a flash of defiant life sprang to his eyes and he leaped agilely to the ledge of the parapets. Even as Kenric rushed forward, MacLeith swung his claymore high overhead and let loose a fierce battle cry as he vaulted over the walls to his death.

Kenric leaned over the battlements, gazing down at the broken body far below. It wasn't supposed to end this quickly, but end it had. The long, b.l.o.o.d.y reign of Dunmore MacLeith was over.

30.

Tess wasn't smiling when she entered the gates of her home for the first time in five years. Nay, she felt like crying. So much death and destruction since her father had ridden through these gates. So much misery, so much bloodshed. MacLeith had left his mark in many ways on Remmington, though the Scottish soldiers who once lined the walls were gone, those who survived stripped of their horses and weapons before being escorted to the border. Uncle Ian was on the other side, making sure they pa.s.sed quickly through his lands. She learned from Simon that many other powerful lairds north of her uncle waited to provide the same quick escort. No one would offer refuge to MacLeith's fallen army.

Tess was thankful that so few of Kenric's men were injured in the fighting and amazed that not one of his men had died. Everything had happened so quickly that few of her people were injured and only one dead from a fall. The rumors of his soldiers' skills were certainly well-founded, for more than a hundred of MacLeith's men lost their lives that b.l.o.o.d.y day. She and Helen heard the story of Kenric's victory over MacLeith many times from Simon, Evard, and Fitz Alan. The long trip from Kelso, made slower by her advancing pregnancy, gave the men ample time to tell the tale over and over again. The first time Tess heard the story she could not hide her shock, remembering well. the dream of her father. She dared not speak of the dream with anyone but Kenric, yet her husband did not ride with his men to collect her. Nay, she tried to be understanding when Fitz Alan explained that Kenric rode out with his brother to secure Remmington's other holdings and would not be at Remmington Castle when she arrived. She tried very hard not to feel sorry for herself. Tess did not want to face what MacLeith had done to the inside of her home, not without Kenric by her side. It was sure to be devastating and she needed his support. Why would he send for her, knowing she would not want to face this homecoming alone?

They pa.s.sed through the gates without much notice, Tess so caught up in her thoughts that at first she didn't notice the crowd gathered inside the lower bailey. She could not help but heed their roar of welcome.

The entire castle was gathered there, Kenric's knights and soldiers, and to her great joy, many old, familiar faces of villagers and castle folk who had survived MacLeith. But the face that caused hers to light up was that of her husband, standing with crossed arms and braced legs atop the steps to the great hall.

He descended the steps slowly as she rode forward, meeting her at the base of the stairs. He caught the reins of her palfrey then swept her carefully into his arms. Tess laced her arms around Kenric's neck, unable to believe he was here to greet her. "Simon and Evard said you would not return-"

"The other keeps fell easily, once MacLeith's va.s.sals learned of his death," Kenric said, explaining his presence. Without relinquis.h.i.+ng his hold on her, he turned to face their people. "Your lady is restored, Remmington, and she carries with her the next heir."

Although gossip had carried this news well ahead of Kenric's announcement, the crowd reacted joyously. Waiting until the shouts and clatter of sword banging against s.h.i.+elds died down some, Kenric gave them another reason to cheer. " 'Tis to be a day of celebration and feasting. The stores have been opened and you will enjoy the bounty of Remmington this day with your lord and lady's blessings."

Kenric didn't linger to enjoy the crowd's shouts of delight. Unable to tear her gaze from her husband's well-loved face, Tess was vaguely aware of pa.s.sing through the , hall and mounting the steps that led to her parents' old chamber. She raised her lips and tried to capture his mouth for a kiss. He lifted his chin, avoiding her lips even as he shook his head. "Nay, sweet. Do you kiss me now, we will make love in this stairwell. 'Tis unsafe and I wish to take you in the comfort of a bed."

Tess nodded, smiling, even though she began to dread entering her parents' chamber. It held too many memories and she feared the evidence of Dunmore MacLeith there would make the place repulsive. Kenric kicked the door open and she released the breath she'd been holding in a huge sigh of relief. Not a trace of MacLeith remained in the chamber. In fact, it didn't look much like her parents' old chamber, either. Instead it looked exactly like Kenric's bedchamber at Montague. Every piece of his furniture, from the ma.s.sive bed, to rugs, chests, and trophies, were in place exactly as she remembered. That was the last thought she gave to the room as his lips descended upon hers for a long, soul-stirring kiss.

He hadn't teased her on the steps. There was no controlling him when his lips touched hers. Her mantle, bliaut, chainse, and chemise sailed across the room along with Kenric's clothes, like leaves in a strong fall wind. He wasn't satisfied until she was naked, then he lay siege to her body with his hands and mouth.

"You will be the death of me yet," Kenric declared, when they both lay sated. He rolled to his back and sprawled his big body out on the bed, one arm holding Tess to his side. "I am amazed each time I survive your pa.s.sion."

"Mmm," she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his chest. " 'Tis rather unnerving, is it not?"

"You have doubtless been told how we retook Remmington," he said abruptly.

Tess nodded. "How did you know about the drain-pipe?"

"A dream." He lay back on the bed and propped one hand behind his head, staring up at the canopy. "At least, I think it was a dream. Four days after I made camp at Remmington, I was asleep in my tent, having a most pleasant dream that my wife joined me in bed. Just when I thought to start kissing her, a man entered the tent, a stranger, yet his features were vaguely familiar. Somehow I knew this man was my father-in-law. He led you from the tent, turning as he held the flap aside to call me forward as well. I followed to the battlement walls where he revealed how the castle could be breached. I could see shadowy images of my own men as I gazed up at the wall. When I looked down again, you and your father were gone."

"I had the same dream." She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her gaze searching his face. "Do you truly think me a witch?"

"You are my wife," he murmured, enfolding her in a gentle embrace. "You are also the mother of my child and the woman I love more than anything on this earth. Beyond that, I care not what others would call you for your strange abilities. I have always thought you special, Tess.

What you have is a gift from G.o.d, for surely the Devil could find no welcome in a soul as gentle as yours. Men have often sought to destroy what they do not understand, so 'tis best to keep this knowledge to ourselves. Yet there is nothing that could make me think less of you, sweetheart. Should any man seek to persecute my wife, I would protect your life with my own."

"You truly do not care?" she asked anxiously. He kissed her brow and gazed tenderly into her eyes.

"I care only that you love me."

She smiled and snuggled closer against his chest. After five long years of impossible dreams and tarnished hopes, Tess had finally come home.

Epilogue.

Five Years Later .

'Trevor, Tristan, you will not play pranks on Agnes," Tess warned, shaking her finger at the identical twin boys. She received two solemn little nods for her effort, or at least as solemn as the four-year-old boys could manage. "Your brother, Phillip, has just had his dinner and I want all my boys asleep now."

"Phillip would like to hear one more story, Mama." Trevor pointed to the cradle where his new brother cooed happily.

"Aye, the story of the naughty fox," Tristan piped in.

"You've had your story for the night, young men. Now off to bed. Your mother needs her rest as well."

Tess tucked the children into their beds and kissed each one good night, smiling as she closed the door to their bedchamber. Her children slept in the room she used as a child, next to the chamber she now shared with her husband. Miriam's daughter, Agnes, slept in the children's room as well, helping Tess care for the children.

Anxious for a bit of sleep, Tess hurried to her own bed. Phillip might be full and happy at the moment, but Agnes would bring the babe to her again in three or four hours for his next feeding.

It was amazing how easy one babe seemed after the surprise of the twins' birth. Even Kenric took her latest pregnancy in stride, not worrying overly much about the outcome as he had with the twins. Tess could still remember the funny expressions on Kenric's face when she grew so fat with the twins. He would stare at her belly in horror, certain she would give birth to a full-grown man. Aye, the twins were a pleasant surprise, for even Tess began to worry about her size long before she went into labor. Yet she'd been doubly rewarded for her worries. Both boys were the image of their father, with dark hair and smoky gray eyes. Phillip too favored his father's dark looks, but Tess secretly hoped he would keep the blue eyes that turned more violet each day, looking very close in shade to his mother's. She couldn't wait to boast over the trait to her husband.

She was certain Kenric would return any day from his journey to Montague. Although Guy had proved a wise and able ruler for his young age, he'd recently gotten himself into trouble that required his brother's counsel and his brother's famous army as well.

Word arrived shortly before Phillip's birth that Guy required his older brother's a.s.sistance, yet Kenric had delayed the trip to Montague until his son was safely delivered. He'd nearly refused to make the trip at all when Tess tried to resume her duties with the twins too quickly and was forced back to bed until her strength returned. Although he professed great reluctance to make the trip, Tess suspected he looked forward to fighting at his brother's side again, if Guy's foolish challenge had indeed come down to a battle. He'd even taken Roger Fitz Alan along on the trip, a sure sign he expected his sword would be put to use. Poor Helen. She was probably cursing her husband this moment for leaving her with two young daughters and another child on the way.

Tess sank wearily onto her bed and closed her eyes, but the smile that played around her mouth was a happy one, the joy and contentment of her life reflected in her face. Another week at the most and her life would be complete again, for Kenric would be at her side once more. She awoke several hours later. A quick peek at the window said the night was well under way, yet she could hear the echoed sounds of many horses in the inner bailey. She sat up in bed, her heart beating faster as she realized the commotion was probably caused by her husband's return to Remmington.

Kenric stepped into his chamber a short time later, the hairs at the nape of his neck standing on end at the sight that greeted him. Tess was sitting up in bed and smiling quite prettily. The light from two tall, fat candles left burning on either side of the bed cast a golden sheen to her hair and the warm glow beckoned him forward from the dark shadows of the room. It was an exact picture of an image he remembered from many years past. His greeting was murmured in such a low voice that his wife probably didn't hear it. "I knew I would find you this way."

"Kenric!" Tess's smile was nearly blinding. She held out her arms, hugging him fiercely when he came forward to sit on the bed. "I have missed you so!"

"You are feeling better?" he asked, gathering her close to his chest. He knew for a fact that his wife was in perfect health, for he'd sent messengers back and forth from Remmington to Montague throughout his absence, for the sole purpose of a.s.suring himself of his family's well-being.

"I feel wonderful now that you have returned." She sighed, satisfied now that his arms were around her. "It seems as if a year has pa.s.sed instead of a month. What think you of your new son?"

Kenric rubbed his cheek against her hair, much more interested in the sweet scents and silkiness of his wife's body at the moment. "Hmm?"

"Your son," she chided, playfully nudging his arm as she drew back in his arms. She mistakenly believed he'd checked on the children as he did as a habit before retiring to their chamber each night. "You left only a week after his birth. Surely you have not forgotten the babe already? Or are you still pouting that I have yet to produce a daughter?"

"I seem to recall having had this conversation before," he replied, smiling over her serious expression. This wasn't the first incident he'd "relived." He recalled well the eve just after they were married and Tess lay abed with a fever, looking exactly as she did now and speaking nearly the same words. The first few experiences of this sort had unnerved him, ringing so true to his wife's visions of the future. Yet he'd gradually accustomed himself to her unusual abilities and the exceedingly odd experience of actually living out one of her visions rarely bothered him these days.

"You should say you are happy to have three fine boys," she instructed, missing the meaning behind his words.

"Wait," he said, quickly setting her from his lap to shed his s.h.i.+rt and tunic. That done, he gathered her in his arms again and presented his bared chest, smiling wickedly. "Now you may rub against my chest, wife."

"How did you know my intent?" she asked suspiciously, refusing his order. She couldn't resist tracing a line from the nape of his neck to the waistband of his breeches. She loved the feel of that solid wall of muscles and s.h.i.+vered in antic.i.p.ation.

"This is an old vision, sweetheart. Do you remember the fever you had the first week of our marriage?" He shrugged when she shook her head and claimed she remembered little of that illness. " 'Tis much the same, though we must change one part. We did not make love that night so long ago, but nothing could keep you from me this eve."

Desire sparked to life in Kenric's eyes just before he claimed her mouth for a long, deep kiss that left them both wanting more. He pulled his boots off, hearing them hit the floor at the same time he unlaced the neck of her gown to nuzzle her shoulders.

"I missed you greatly, love. We need to make up for lost time."

" 'Tis been long enough since the birthing to start working on your girl," she purred seductively, baring her neck to his mouth. Tess drew away finally to take her turn, tracing little kisses along his throat as her fingertips drew light patterns along his leather-encased thigh, drawing ever closer to his heat.

One moment Kenric was well on his way to being seduced by his wife, the next he dumped Tess unceremoniously on the bed before he leaped toward the door, his sword already in hand. A second later, the tip of his weapon rested at the throat of the silent intruder in their room. Poor Agnes screamed in terror, frightened nearly to the point of dropping her precious bundle. Phillip began protesting the commotion quite loudly.

"d.a.m.nation, woman!" Kenric bellowed, sighing impatiently when Agnes jumped again at the sound of his voice. He slammed his sword back into its sheath and took his fussing son from the terrified woman's arms. "A knock at your lord's door would not be misplaced at this time of night. Or any other," he warned darkly, clearly picturing the scene Agnes might have walked in on. He was about to order the woman from their room when Tess's voice stopped him.

"Kenric, you have frightened Agnes half to death. She was merely being thoughtful, trying not to disturb me any sooner than necessary. She's brought our babe to me each evening for his feeding, ofttimes laying him on the bed so quietly that I am scarcely awakened before he's well fed and returned safely to his cradle." She ended up shouting to be heard over the baby's wails. "You did not know of your baron's return, did you, Agnes?"

"Nay, milady," Agnes answered just as loudly, bobbing a quick, nervous curtsy to her overlord. "Welcome home, milord."

"My apologies, Agnes, if I frightened you," he told the maid, surprising her with the concession. "You have served my lady well and deserve my thanks. Return to your bed now. I will bring the babe back to his cradle when his dinner is finished."

Agnes left the room as quickly as she could. Kenric stared down at his little son's face, pinched and red now from wailing. He smiled over the l.u.s.ty bellows, though they did make his ears ring. The smile turned to a grimace when one fat little fist caught hold of the hairs on his father's chest and promptly ripped several free.

"Yeow!" Kenric rubbed the stinging spot on his chest. His expression appeared puzzled when he looked to his wife. "I do not think he likes me."

"He seeks something other than hair on a chest," she answered with a giggle, holding her arms out for the babe.

The babe quieted the moment Tess took him in her arms. Kenric settled next to his wife and son on the bed, thinking there was nothing quite so perfect as the picture of a mother feeding her child. He cupped the baby's soft head with his hand and kissed the crown of his son's head, knowing the fragile babe they had created would grow as strong and healthy as his brothers.

" 'Tis odd to see just one child at your breast," he murmured, watching Tess switch the babe to her other arm. He remembered a time, a lifetime ago, when he swore never to marry, to deny himself a wife and children. He appreciated now what that vow nearly cost him. The ache that stirred his loins just moments ago returned to his chest. Once he had kept that feeling locked from his body, allowing nothing to touch his heart. Had he ever truly believed that allowing himself to love Tess would make him weak and vulnerable?