Cathlina shrugged, embarrassed, watching Midgy as the otter found another small pond and dived in. Even though the mood between them was light, and had been for two days, she still felt the need to clarify something.
“Am I forgiven, then, for not leaving the battle in the great hall the other night?” she asked softly.
A faint smile creased his lips. “You were forgiven the moment I spanked you,” he said. “But you will not disobey me again.”
“Never,” she swore, eyeing him in his imposing and functional protection. “You look very handsome in your armor. Does the blue and yellow lion tunic belong to Westbury?”
He shook his head, fingering the tunic he was wearing over his armor. “Nay,” he said. “This is de Beaumont’s colors. The Westbury standard is black and white.”
“Do you think you will be able to wear it again soon?”
He nodded, slowing his charger down so she could ride beside him. When she came close, he reached out and took her hand, gently holding it in his massive glove.
“Hopefully very soon,” he said quietly. “That is why I am here, love. It is my hope that in fighting a war supported by King Edward to ensure my loyalty to him, a victory attained will once again restore me in the eyes of the crown. Everything I do, I do for our future. It is important to leave a legacy for our children.”
Cathlina smiled as she thought on the children they would have, sons in their father’s image and perhaps even a daughter or two that looked like her. She prayed nightly that they would be so blessed but as she thought on their children, she began to think of her own siblings. Those thoughts brought about images of her father and what de Beaumont had said about him. Her good humor faded.
“What do you suppose de Beaumont was speaking of when he said he thought my father traveled on campaign with a whore?” she asked. “Why would he say something so outrageous?”
Mathias shrugged. “He is an intelligent man but not very diplomatic,” he said. “You must understand that he has known literally thousands of men in his lifetime. It would be so easy to mistake one for another. I am certain he was thinking of someone else when he spoke of your father.”
Cathlina thought on that. “He did mention that the whore’s name was Abbie,” she said, almost in passing. “I have a sister with the same name.”
“A coincidence.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can always write your father and ask him if it would ease your mind.”
She looked at him, sharply, only to see that he was grinning at her. Fighting off a smile, she shook her head.
“I am not entirely sure he would take it too kindly,” she said.
Mathias laughed in understanding and kissed her hand, letting it drop gently. Midgy suddenly bolted onto the road, grunting and startling the horses, especially the big bay stallion that Pembury was now riding. The beautiful young horse had made the rounds from St. Héver to Mathias to Pembury. As Stephen struggled to calm the animal, the group heard a good deal of howling off to the left.
Men in tartans of orange and black were descending on them, spilling out of a grove of young trees that backed up to a small range of rocky hills. There was quite a gang of them, unorganized, but they had significant numbers. Waving weapons and clubs in the air, their intention was obvious.
There was no delay in the reaction of the knights. They swung around to face the onslaught, bellowing orders to the infantry that had accompanied them from the Devil’s Den. They were trained for war, cool in a crisis, and none calmer or more succinct than Mathias.
“Father!” Mathias yelled at Justus. “Take my wife and ride as hard as you can for the outpost.Go!”
Cathlina was swept up in the panic but she was only concerned for one thing at the moment. “Midgy!” she cried. “Where is he?”
No one could tell her. The otter was nowhere to be found and furthermore, Mathias was more concerned about people and not pets. He grabbed the reins of her horse, forcing the animal to move as Justus thundered up and smacked her palfrey on the behind. Both horses took off, tearing down the road towards the outpost while Mathias, Stephen, and Sebastian charged out to meet the incoming Scots.
As soon as Justus and Cathlina crested the rise in the road, they could see the outpost about a mile ahead. The sea was on the horizon, a glistening band of water that was clear and inviting. Had the circumstances not been so harrowing, the view would have been gorgeous and peaceful.
As it was, Cathlina hardly noticed. By the time they reached the outpost, the heavy iron gates were open and men were coming out to assist. She was weeping for her husband’s safety and for her otter, which seemed to have disappeared. Justus quickly ushered her inside the enclosure and towards the small keep. When they reached the door, he practically shoved her inside.
“Stay here,” he ordered, throwing her satchel at her in his haste. “Bolt the door and do not open it for anyone you do not know. Is that clear?”
Fearful, sniffling, Cathlina nodded. “It is.”
Justus turned and ran back to his charger as Cathlina slammed the door. It was an old door, warped from the salt air, but very heavy and braced with big iron bars. She threw the massive iron bolt and stood there a moment, hugging her satchel and leaning against the door trying to catch her breath. She could hear shouts and movement out in the bailey, feeding her sense of fear.
Struggling to calm, she backed away from the door, holding her satchel tightly against her chest as if it would bring her some comfort and protection. Then she started to look around, at thedark and dreary stone prison with tiny lancet windows cut into the walls. The Pelé tower was small, smelling of mold and damp earth, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could see green moss growing at the base of the walls. There were water stains everywhere.
She was standing in a small entry with a low ceiling. Immediately to her right, she could see through the darkness a very steep and narrow flight of steps built into the thickness of the wall that led up to the dark first floor. The ground floor had just one room, it appeared, with a hard packed dirt floor, a table and a few chairs, a cold hearth, and possibly a well in the corner. She couldn’t really tell but it didn’t matter at the moment. It looked as if it had been well lived in. There was a single tiny lancet window cut high in the wall to allow for some ventilation and light.
