Part IV
Copyright 2003 by Elizabeth Delayne
Alex rode, his horse nearly fighting for breath, the woods dense and dark around him.
Over a week had passed since he’d received news of Lila’s abduction. He’d slept only briefly, he ate for energy only; his laughter, his life, had slipped out of him.
It had been a systematic attack from a highly trained well armed brute force. The band of marauders had gone after Brock first, had seemingly known him even in chaos and mass of armor. He lay near death in castle Billingdor. Ashton was pretty battered. She’d fought for her life, for her mistress’s and for Brock’s. She suffered for it.
From his reports he understood that the Lady Sara of Fleue had struggled, but her slight frame had been shoved aside, leaving her bruised and shaken, but otherwise unharmed. William had sent a coach with a company of men to retrieve her.
They’d wanted Lila … not the jewels they’d stolen, not the knights they’d massacred.
And in the moment of her disappearance, it was like a cape of blackness had descended over the land. Through Lila, her grandmother a daughter of the former king, they would want to reach the Black Knight, through him the king.
He rode through a dark thicket, his legs brushing against the tangled bush that lined the thin path. The moonlight was a thin beam through the towering trees, the night black. It was a path few knew and those that did only chose to travel it when times were desperate.
The small cottage in the sheltered glen seemed dark. It was windowless; the only sight a crack of light from under the door—if you knew where to look for the hidden entrance.
Alex dismounted listened for the approach of another. When he heard none, he went slowly to the door, hidden under a fall of ivy. He knocked three times, paused, and then knocked five more times slowly. It was a code known only by the king’s inner chamber.
Then he waited. There was power in silence, he realized. There was a strong hum of the crickets, a call of a lone bird, and the anticipation of the wait.
Onecie would understand that.
“Alex.”
The voice did not come from the house, but from the edge of the forest. The old man was waiting for him.
Alex walked to him and studied his one time mentor who wore the rags of a peasant and the prestige of nobilty, “You knew I was coming.”
“Only that I am to expect visitors. It is the time to plan and guard, not just to wait.”
“I have heard that you have news.”
“Only pieces. The dark dragon has flown over the king’s shadow.”
Lord Fowler. Onecie, once leader of the knights of the king’s chamber never spoke the name of his nemesis, but he did keep in touch with several influential contacts would walked within the shadows of the world.
“Alexander, my young friend,” Onecie put a hand to Alex’s back and guided him into the forest, away from the cottage and into the shelter of animals. “Tell me what you know.”
“Billingdor’s niece was taken captive.”
“Yes, I have heard. Her grandmother was the sister of the king I served.”
“The army that attacked was well trained, one that knew it’s foe. They went after the head guard, a captain, Brock—to kill, to destroy. He is being watched over at Billingdor. We pray he recovers.”
“For information,” Onecie murmured. “He would understand the fury of such an army. Would have recognized the men. Brock is a fine soldier, with a good eye. He trained under my son.”
“Then pray, for his health has taken a turn for the worst. We can only rejoice in the fact that the men who slay him intended to kill him. He lives still. The companions, one a noble woman—Sara of Feue, was left. Even common thieves would have recognized her worth, or taken her to use for their own purposes. Yet she was left behind. Easier?”
“Possibly. Sara of the Feues. Not the richest of families. Somewhat on the fringes of the royal society.”
“She was traveling under the supervision of William of Greenburough’s knights. They are engaged. He sent a company of his best knights to retrieve her from Billingdor before the week was out—before I could get there and speak with her myself.”
“Much more interesting then. Years ago Monty of Greenburough’s father, William’s grandfather, was a close companion to both the King and to the dark dragon. It was his relationship to the king, and the valor of his son that saved him from the worst of suspicions.”
“And his father?”
“Sir Monty was a strong knight, a friend of the house of Arlington, but he, like many, fought with valor in the crusades and was home little. His children were raised by his father.”
“The youngest brother serves in the king’s navy, William who is over their estate at Galliden and Arthur, the youngest,” Alex agreed. “Billingdor felt that I would not act in choicest of ways among the noble court, so others have been sent to question those at Galliden.”
“It is a dark time in England. The dragon’s breath has swept through the land, his words like fire. He’s built an army, rugged, strong, mean. He’s coming back.”
“Where is this army?”
“On the move. They leave a visible path. Pain and suffering do not hide,” Onecie closed his eyes, seemingly very tired, but moments later when he opened them, his eyes were sharp, bright, almost fire-like. “Greenburough has knights loyal to sir Monty. They would not betray that honor, even for the name of Galliden. If the name of Greenburough is linked to the dark dragon, there will be discontent.”
Alex nodded, “So I should look to Galliden. Do Fowler and Greenburough really think they can claim the kingdom when the armies of all the Lords would be against him?”
“Many Lords rule by greed and not loyalty, Alex and would judge by the victor and the promises laid out by one. I no longer believe they would be after the kingdom, but destruction,” Onecie paused and studied him. “So you have feared.”
“I have spent months studying Fowler. I want to know his heart so that it is easier to be pierced. Tell me this. Why would Fowler go through the Black Knight? He guards a forest. He patrols a wooded area.”
“And you think I could tell you. There are rumors in the right places, but to speak of the truth? It has been sealed. It should be closed off forever.”
“You speak in riddles, Onecie.”
“I speak for you to listen, young Alex,” his voice hardened, strengthened, and suddenly Alex was pupil and Onecie the guardian. “I have been sworn to the king. Even though I have been released of official duties, I am still his servant, his trusted ally. I will not break that bond.”
“Then I have come here for nothing? As the dark dragon holds Billingdor’s niece, I have nothing more? He got to her. He wants Billingdor—then he moves to the King. Where will your Loyalty be then, Onecie?”
“You are thinking rashly, Alexander, so I shall forgive you,” his voice was firm and reminded Alex that Onecie had once been the strongest knight in all of England. “Onecie has heard that your heart has been given to the Lady of Billingdor, and I understand that her life is secondary to your orders to stop Fowler. Listen to what I have said and find your answers. Follow the path to find the dark dragon—his breath has left the world scorched around the path he has taken. Your Lady of Billingdor will be close to him. The dark dragon trusts no one.”
It was night and the castle slept. Ashton carefully lowered herself into a chair beside the bed where Brock lay. People bid her to stay away, but her heart was in this room, with this man, who had risked his life to save hers.
There were other servants to care for him. When she tried to help, she was sent away. Father Bryan had come, reminded her that in the silence of waiting she should reach out for the power of prayer. So she prayed, and she suffered.
With every step she remembered that she was alone. Without Lila, the castle seemed empty. With every breath, she thought of Brock struggling for his own.
When she lay down at night to sleep, she could still see him, bleeding, hurt, and turning toward her as they’d taken her. They’d already been on him, but even fending them off, he’d come after her, toward her, his sword well trained as it met his enemy.
And even when he freed her, they were on him—too many to count. The world rang with shouts of victory, clashes of metal—grunts before death.
When his sword fell, she picked it up. Heavy as it was, she used it. She’d fought herself into the woods, then turned and ran, bleeding and bruised, for help.
It had taken her too long to get back to the castle. Her strength had failed her.
And Brock lay as death called to him over and over again.
Now, alone with him in his room, she reached out a hand and traced his face with a gentle finger. His muscles were strong, his smile flat. His life fading.
“Father God, I have failed You as servant to my lady, but this man fought with bravery, with valor. Please don’t let him die. Please give him greater purpose …”
She stopped and stared at Brock as his eyes opened, eyes so blue, eyes so true. She pulled her hand back and watched his lips turn up in a smile, weak, but with life.
She smiled as a tear trembled from her eyelid, “You live, my knight.”
“For you my lady.”
It was not a time of trust even within the halls of the king’s own castle. Alex ordered guards on the outer perimeter of a field and met with Percy and two other knights within. One was Lucas of Lotz, a Knight of Bllingdor, and the other Barister of Cordine, a knight who fought with Alex as a member of the King’s chamber.
He was surprised when he saw him, surprised to see the weariness, as it was not usual to see Percy in such a state.
They dismounted and met with their horses on either side.
“Do you have anything to report?”
Both knights answered, giving rumors Alex had already heard. The dragon had indeed left a scorched path in his wake. There was terror in the northern villages.
He looked at his friend, “Percy?”
“Nothing conclusive. I have been unable to speak with Sara. That was my main goal.”
“I would not have thought her father would be aligned with Lord Fowler.”
“Possibly not, but she’s already entered into the formal engagement period. Her belongings were moved over to Greenburoughs estate at Galliden a week before she visited Billingdor. As far as her father’s concerned, she’s none of his concern.”
“His daughter goes through an attack with a raiding army and it’s none of his concern?”
“He’s always been a sorry lot—his daughter’s nothing more than a political tool, his chief concern himself.”
Barister, the larger of the other knights made a sound, close to a growl, “Then you would think he would cooperate.”
“According to my mother there is nothing more burdensome to man like the Lord of Feue than having to bare the responsibility of four daughters—especially when doing so means there’s a chance of a powerful political move or money. His father lost much of their estate long ago, and he’s using his daughters to reclaim something. Years ago he entered into negotiation with my father for one of his daughters to marry my oldest brother. Father quickly tired of his complaints.”
“And Lady Feue?”
“Under his thumb. She was ill, distraught, unable to take visitors. She has yet to visit Galliden where her daughter supposedly recuperates and the whole of London is wondering at the rift in the family.”
“And at Galliden?”
Percy shrugged, then ran tired hands over his face before seemingly blinking back the worst of the exhaustion. “I believe she’s there, but I’m not certain as to where. In the upper rooms, or below? The servants aren’t cooperative. They only repeat messages they’ve been given. Whether they’ve seen her, whether the messages come from the Lady—it is uncertain.”
Lucas frowned and looked at Alex. “I thought you said Sir Monty would not stomach his son’s seeming loyalty to Fowler?”
“Sir Monty is at their London home—close to the king. But you’re right, it is odd that the family seems so disconnected. We do need to know for sure Monty’s feelings. Just being a warrior in the crusades does not make him loyal,” he looked at Percy, “And what are the servants saying of Lady Sara?”
“That she’s in need of peace to heal herself from the trauma, distraught with worry.”
“No fair maiden appears.”
“Neither her fiancé. I was told he was out on an extended trip.”
“He wouldn’t be there,” Alex had little doubt that William of Greenburough was conspiring against the king. “Surely she knows that in hiding she only increases her guilt.”
“If she knows she’s being hidden or if she has a choice.”
Alex raised his brows, “You defend her—I need to know why.”
“Because I remember Sara of Feue. Many of the court do as well. Lila was a beauty, important through her line of Arlington, but as a child she paled in comparison to Sara. She was a favorite of my mother’s, a bright star of children of the court. The trauma over Lila’s parents and loosing Lila dimmed it somewhat as well as the grievances over whom she was to marry. She was promised to an old man as a child. He died. Greenburough, on the surface, is the best of the lot—the rest aged widows. Her father was tired of negotiating.”
“Bright stars fade, Percy. She made her own decisions.”
“Not about marriage. And William is not a man who would give her much say. Greenburough would use her as a pawn. Did she know the intention? You were not in the court when the Duke of Arlington was slain by Fowler. Sara—I can’t think she would have helped him, knowing…”
“Then she is of no use to us.”
“Perhaps not—but she was not a trophy before she was engaged. She might have picked up information. If she didn’t why would he keep her hidden?”
“What do you need?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a soldier, Alex. I just need to be part of this. I need to do something.”
“My men have heard stirrings of discontent within the ranks of the knights of Galliden,” Alex said. “They may be willing to help.”
“I thought it was an honor to fight among the Greenburoughs.”
“It was an honor to fight for their captain—and now he is near death. They wouldn’t like that,” he turned to Barister, “Ride with Percy toward Galliden. There is a representative of the court. Allonto. He is trustworthy. Find him. Get to Sara.”
“And you? Where will I find you?”
“We will go to Billindor to check on the status of the Brock, meet with Billingdor himself, then probably head North. I have heard, in the past, that many soldiers came and went within the Galliden armies. We always thought the Lord of Greenburough chose the best and rid himself of the rest.”
“Common practice, I would suppose.”
“Yes, but now that there is fury, my information tells me that it wasn’t always the weak that were sent away.”
One of the other knight’s nodded, “The ruthless, the heartless, the skilled were also sent away in disgrace—but some wonder where they went.”
Percy lifted his brows, “Sound like your implying that our William was recruiting an army.”
“It fits, doesn’t it? If so, we have got to find that camp. They have to be waiting to make a move. They have to be preparing for something. They would not have moved on Lila if they had not had a plan.”
“We will send a currier who will quote a Psalm. Wait for it at your family home. If your Sara is honorable, take her to your parent’s estate and put her under guard for protection. If you find her deceptive take her to Billingdor. There she can come face to face with the full fury and power of the Black Knight.”
Ashton balanced herself with a hand to the wall as she took the winding stairs one at a time, still unable to trust the strength in her legs. Alex had arrived. He and Lord Billingdor were meeting with Brock in his rooms.
Someone rushed passed her just as she reached the top of the stairs. She leaned against the stone wall and listened to the echo of whispers, firm and hard. There was anger and determination.
Lord Billingdor stepped out of Brock’s set of rooms, dressed in his travel wear so that the armor clinked against the stone floor. He stopped when he saw her, the hard look in his eyes softening somewhat. “Ashton, my child. You shouldn’t be dealing with these stairs.”
She swallowed and looked up into her lord’s eyes. There was worry and heartache, but none of the blame she felt for herself. “I had hoped for news.”
“We only have plans. Alex will be leaving. He will take a maid in hopes he can find her.”
“But not me.”
He shook his head and reached up a gentle hand to her cheek, “Not with your injuries. The men will be traveling fast and hard. It’s doubtful any maid can handle the journey. We just can’t … we don’t know… I won’t risk you, my Ashton. I need you here with me.”
Ashton glanced back as Alex came out of the room with another knight. “I need to see your maps, sir.”
“I’d like a look myself,” Billingdor said as his hand fell away. Alex reached a hand out to Ashton as he passed by. Even as his eyes were tired, weary, she was glad to see he was still determined.
When they moved on, she stepped forward into Brock’s rooms. He stood at the broad window looking out at the garden’s below.
“The gardens were Lila’s pride …” she said and watched as he turned to look at her, his face shadowed with the sun behind him. “I haven’t … I need to go down and work with the flowers. She … the flowers are very important to her.”
She took a breath and stepped further into the room. She was babbling, she thought and wished he would say something, anything.
"My lady, Lila--she is alive … they will find her?”
She looked over and noticed the bowls shattered against the wall as if they had been thrown in anger and frustration. She looked at Brock and then moved to pick them up.
“Leave them,” he said, speaking at last. "Ashton, leave them."
She stopped and lifted her chin, "Someone needs to pick this up."
“Someone will,” his voice ordered and lacked the free spirited gentleness she had fallen for so easily during his earlier stay. “It's not for you. You shouldn’t even be in these rooms. The servants will talk.”
"I am a servant," she reminded him, "and this is my occupation. And maybe I shouldn't, but the staff knows I came here when you were out,” she wiped her palms on the folds of her dress. “We thought—we weren’t sure you would make it.”
He stepped forward, away from the window. No longer shadowed, his face revealed his disrepute. She wanted to shrink away, but held her ground. If he had temper--she would at least stay and find out why.
“I need you to understand something, Ashton. I let myself forget my duty. I am bound as a knight to the king. It is my first responsiblity."
Ashton lifted her chin and swallowed, “There were so many,” she pointed out, proud that her voice remained level. “They were all on you.”
“I have been trained for better. I moved toward you when I should have protected princess Lila, the grand niece of the king and Sara of Feue. They were my duty,” he said and turned away from her, “You, above all people should understand duty. I shouldn’t have let my heart become involved with you.”
“Then you would prefer me dead,” she said, and grabbed hold of the anger. “As I do … should I feel guilt that I have life and freedom when my mistress is gone? Should I have guilt that I or that you live?"
“You should feel nothing.”
She lifted her skirts so her hands would not reach out for something to throw at him, then speared his back with her eyes, “I’m sorry, sir,” she said curtly. “I cannot turn the valve of my devotion and heart off like you. I ache for my mistress, my friend, my sister. I ached for you, but I will ache no more. My heart has more important people to morn.”
When he said nothing she turned and walked out, dealing with the pain of body and soul.
