The squires screamed. Anna braced herself for the impact and had the breath stolen from her chest when they crashed into the bailey. The fire leapt from the straw to the wooden structure, spreading with dangerous speed. Horses whinnied in fear and serving maids ran from the hall in terror.
“The portcullis!” Bartholomew roared and Anna heard a surge of activity. “Fergus arrives!”
Duncan bellowed, the villagers cheered, and the battle became more frantic.
“Father Ignatius,” Bartholomew bade her, then swung his blade at a pair of attackers. He battled his way toward the gate, dodging fire and mayhem, shouting encouragement. His very presence fortified the villagers, giving them new strength and resolve.
Anna raced to the chapel and unlocked the portal with shaking hands. Father Ignatius had the reliquary bundled against his chest. Without a word, they ran for the portal. The smoke was thick near the ground, but she spied Stewart and Edgar on the back of the second wagon. She shouted and the two men grabbed Father Ignatius and pulled him aboard.
The high tower erupted in flame and a woman screamed.
The portcullis creaked and the villagers cheered as it opened. The horses harnessed to the wagon needed no encouragement to surge through the gate and away from the fire. The untethered horses raced after them, the villagers spilling forth to safety with them. Anna dared to breathe a sigh of relief when Bartholomew swung through the gate after the last of them and scooped her off her feet.
Father Ignatius bared the treasure in his possession and kissed its golden surface, his gratitude more than echoed in the hearts of those around them.
*
The villagers were tired and some were injured. Rowe the carpenter had been killed and was deeply mourned. Many of the other villagers had been hurt but Finan in the old village tended them well. Children ran to collect such stores and food as was available and they shared it all, gathering around a bonfire lit in the midst of the new village. The keep burned slowly and thoroughly, but in Bartholomew’s view, all of value had been claimed from within it. He made the boys promise to stay out of the ruins.
Esme brought her chickens from the forest and Regan shared the cheese from her goats. The herd of goats grazed near the company. Stories were exchanged and comfort given. Rabbits were roasted over the flames and Bartholomew knew that he would have to hunt on the morrow to ensure that all could feast as they should.
They had become too thin, the people of Haynesdale. He sat, watching and listening, savoring the tales and the camaraderie, knowing that sooner or later, his decision would be expected.
Of course, it was Anna who asked it of him.
She walked toward him, her features illuminated by the firelight, the resolve in her gaze prompting his admiration. She halted before him, then fell to one knee, offering his father’s ring on the palm of one hand.
Again.
“Only a king can make a baron, Anna,” he reminded her quietly.
She met his gaze, her own steady and clear. “What will you do?”
The company fell silent, their attention fixed upon him, their manner expectant.
Bartholomew stood to address them. “The king is owed his taxes from the holding of Haynesdale,” he said. “I would deliver them to him, though it is likely his court is convened in Anjou in these days. Kings muster for crusade and he will consult with Philip of France.” He stood and shed the tabard that had belonged to Gaultier, flinging it into the bonfire. “While I am there, I will request that the seal of Haynesdale be granted to me, in respect for my lineage.”
Anna glanced over her shoulder as Percy appeared beside her. He carried the sack of coin that Anna had claimed from the solar. He dropped to one knee beside Anna and offered it to Bartholomew.
“For the escheat,” Anna said.
“Nay,” Bartholomew said. “This coin was gathered from all of you, leaving you in poverty and hunger. If you give it to me, Anna, I will return it to the villagers. As Father Ignatius has argued, you did not receive protection or justice in exchange for your taxes paid. This coin is rightly yours.”
They murmured then, and he realized that his decision had been anticipated by Anna’s triumphant smile. “We have agreed that we would see our taxes spent in this manner,” she said. “And that if you made this argument, it would only win our support more fully.” She bowed her head. “Praise be that the true son is returned, and there will be justice in Haynesdale again.”
The villagers cheered and Fergus applauded, his pleasure in Bartholomew’s changed fortunes most clear. Duncan held the reliquary again, and Bartholomew knew they would continue to Killairic as planned.
He raised his voice, addressing all of the company. “The men of my father’s line were renowned for their ability to blend old and new, to strike a balance between tradition and innovation. And here, I would continue this legacy. I will take the taxes to the king, that he has his rightful due, and I will gladly accept your offering of the coin for the escheat. I would grant you justice and defend you to the best of my abilities, if I am so fortunate as to win the king’s approval. But I suggest this onto you, that if Anna, the daughter of the youngest son of the Duke of Arsent and the Lady of Haynesdale, will have me as her wedded spouse, the king may find that blending of old and new most compelling of all.”
The villagers hooted and stamped their feet at this notion, but Anna stood tall, her manner wary. “You would wed me to gain Haynesdale?” she asked quietly. “Because of the name of my father?”
“I would wed you because I love you,” he replied. “And I would wed you this very night, before we know the king’s decree, so that you have no doubt of my reason. If King Henry has plans for this holding, wedding you might stand between me and Haynesdale. I think the risk a fair one, for I would rather live without Haynesdale’s seal than without the lady I love by my side.” He smiled at the way she blinked back her tears, noting that as ever, her thoughts were easily read.
He had to tease her then. “Assuming, of course, that you will have me, Anna, even knowing our quest to the king might not end in success.”
“He will not dare to defy our will,” she said hotly, then smiled as she offered her hand. “I am glad to put my hand in that of such a man of honor.”
Bartholomew grinned and caught her close, swinging her around as the company cheered their approval. Father Ignatius cleared a path to them, intent upon supervising the exchange of vows, but Bartholomew claimed a potent kiss first.
