“Nay,” Saer said from across the tent. “I want to speak with her first.”
Tate’s smile faded as he looked to his cousin. “Go ahead,” he said. “I shall wait right outside the tent.”
Saer turned to look at him with as much defeat in his expression as Tate had ever seen. The Axe he’d known all those years looked old and tired. Children growing up and resisting parental directives had a way of doing that to people.
“No need,” he said wearily. “I just want to speak with her a few moments. I will bring her over to the field myself”
Tate cocked an eyebrow. “You will not beat her.”
Saer shook his head, resigned. “I will not beat her.”
“Swear it?”
“I swear”
“Then I will see you over at the field.”
Mathias won the joust later that day without his favored lady in the lists. Once he realized what had happened, he went toTate with a plan and begged the man to help him. The whole story about Henry de Beaumont and fighting for the Scots came in to play, and Tate was more than willing to listen. Had he not loved his wife so much, it would have been difficult for him to understand Mathias’ willingness to sacrifice everything for the chance at a new life with the woman he loved. As it was, he understood completely.
Tate was not hard to convince, and an appropriate scheme was hatched.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kirklinton Castle wasbottled up tightly and had been for three days. Patrols were doubled and the wall walk was crowded with sentries. Ever since their flight from Brampton’s tournament back to Kirklinton, the castle had been sealed up. Now, everyone was waiting, watching the road, preparing for what was to come.
It was like a deathwatch. No one knew what to expect or why the defenses were doubled as if preparing for a siege. Dunstan and Beauson had been told not to let anyone into or out of Kirklinton and they held tight to their directive. They didn’t truly know the full extent of their orders or the reason behind it other than Saer had ordered them to forfeit their rounds at the tournament for the harried return home. The crying girls had been loaded up into the carriage and back they had all come. Now, the soldiers were moving through their duties in stressful silence as the family remained locked up in the keep.
Cathlina was inconsolable. She had fought so much on the way home that Rosalund was forced to hold her down the entire way, alternately scolding her for her behavior and comforting her. All Saer would say was that she had behaved terribly and as a result, the entire family had to leave the tournament to return home. It wasn’t until they reached Kirklinton that Saer told his wife the entire story. His side of it, of course, and Rosalund was appalled.
Therefore, Cathlina was confined to the keep. She had someone watching her constantly so she would not try to escape and run back to Mathias. Abechail had slept with Cathlina since they had returned, the sickly little sister doingher best to comfort her distraught sibling. Eventually, Abechail and Roxane learned the reason for their sister’s distress and although Roxane remained distant and pouting, Abechail never left Cathlina’s side.
Cathlina woke up on the third morning since their departure from Brampton with Abechail in her bed. But they were not alone. Abechail’s pets, the spotted goat and the three brown puppies had joined them. As the puppies wriggled and licked, Cathlina tried not to become too annoyed.
Climbing out of bed, she called for warmed water and was provided with linen towels and two big basins of warmed lavender water. As the sun began to rise and the activity about the castle swung into its normal routine, she bathed with a bar of lumpy lavender soap and donned a clean linen shift. It was big and voluminous, with a ruffle around the bottom, and she pulled a red silk surcoat over the top. The surcoat had a corset that laced up and she sighed distractedly as she laced up the coat, her mind wandering to Mathias as it did a thousand times a day. He was all she could think of, like the strains of the siren song that never went away. She fairly ached with it all.
By the time she was brushing her hair, Abechail was up. Abechail took the brush from her sister and brushed her hair while Cathlina sat and stared from the lancet window overlooking the southeast section of the bailey. As Abechail put the brush down and began to braid, Cathlina gazed across the rolling green land, visions of Mathias and their future spread out before her. She could only see him as a restored knight, stronger and taller and prouder than anyone, a knight that belonged to her and her alone. She could imagine the castle they would live in and the strong sons they would have. She could feel his hand on hers, his lips on her flesh. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him. She prayed she had the opportunity to find out.
Lost in her daydreams, she didn’t notice that Abechail had braided her hair elaborately and wound it all up and around her head. In truth, it was quite lovely, as Abechail had a talent for dressing hair even at her young age. She would often practice on her sisters, although Cathlina’s silky hair was much easier to manage than Roxane’s frizzy strands. As Cathlina admired her little sister’s handiwork in a polished metal mirror, the door to the chamber opened and Roxane entered.
There were two chambers on the top level of the keep and both of them were occupied by the three girls. They shifted around in the beds, sometimes sleeping in one bed or the other, or two of them would sleep together while one slept alone. It had always been thus, moreover, the same went for their clothing– they all shared the same surcoats because they were all relatively the same size, although shifts and shoes remained personal. Roxane, in her shift, had come hunting for just the right surcoat for the day’s dressing.
She stuck her nose in the air when she saw Cathlina in her beautifully braided hair and headed straight for a massive wardrobe that sat low and squat against the wall. The moment she opened it, clothing burst forth and fell on the floor. Frustrated, Roxane started digging through it.
“You must be more organized,” she said to both sisters. “These are all wrinkled!”
Abechail wandered over to her eldest sister. “You were in there the last,” she pointed out. “This is your mess.”
Roxane turned to Abechail, her lips puckered furiously. “Never mind,” she snapped. Then she noticed the dogs and goat over near the bed. “And why are the barn animals in here? I am telling Mother!”
“For Heaven’s sake, Roxane,” Cathlina stood up from her stool. “Shut your yap, do you hear? You never have a kind word for anyone, you selfish wench. All you ever do is complain!”
It was the opening volley to the hair pulling event which would start shortly. Abechail scooted in between her sisters as they came close to one another to stop the inevitable progression.
“Oh!” Roxane gasped. “Look who’s calling me selfish? We had to leave the tournament because of you!”
“We left because Father was angry!”
Roxane put her hands on her hips, sassy. “We left becauseyoubehaved outrageously with the smithy that saved Abbie from that awful brute,” she said. “Father said you were horrible and wanton!”
