“I thought you said he was at Tures.”
“He was. But he must have had warning that my army approached and escaped ere the siege began. And he must have gathered another army, for he comes with nigh five hundred men under his dragon’s banner.”
“If he raised another army, why did he not take it immediately to Tures to rout yours?”
“Do not be stupid, Rowena,” Gilbert snapped impatiently. “Tures Castle was your father’s stronghold. You know how defensible it is. Those men Fulkhurst left behind to guard it can hold it for him for weeks. There is no hurry for him to return to Tures, not when he has learned that I am here with naught but a handful of men. Does he capture me, he can make terms that will disperse my army.”
“Or he can kill you.”
He glared at her, but she was pleased to see his color recede even more to an unnatural paleness.
“Are you sure ’tis him?” she asked. “Tures is two days north of here.”
“No one can mistake his colors, or that damn fire-breathing red dragon rampant on a black field. ’Tis him, and he will be without in less than an hour, so I must leave now.”
“And I?”
“He will take this keep whether I am here or not. He knows ’tis mine, and he has sworn to take all that is mine for our trespass at Dyrwood. Curse him, why could he not be satisfied with my father’s death?”
As that was said not to her, she did not try to answer. She could not understand vengefulness of that depth anyway. But she was not alarmed that the Lord of Fulkhurst was coming here, or that Gilbert meant to leave her behind to face him. Anything that thwarted Gilbert and his hateful plans would be well received by her.
“You will make terms with him for yourself,” he continued. “He will not harm you. Last year he captured another of my wards, Lady Avice, and only insisted she swear fealty to him. Do the same if he demands it, for it will not matter. I will be back here in three days’ time with my army to defeat him. Aye,’tis better done here than at Tures Castle, for Kirkburough can be easily surrounded. And I now have enough men to do so, three times as many as he. Do not fear, Rowena, I will have you back in my care shortly.”
So said, he grabbed her and gave her a kiss that could in no wise be construed as brotherly. She was amazed. She was repulsed. She had not known he desired her until that moment.
Chapter 11
Rowena did not realize it until after Gilbert had gone, that she and her mother had been saved from his fury by his distraction. He was so set on his new course, with only Fulkhurst and defeating him on his mind, that he had forgotten about the man supposedly still chained upstairs. Were the man still there, she would have had a fine time explaining him to the invaders when they took over the keep.
Fortunately, that was not one of her worries. Nor did she give any thought to Gilbert’s instructions, not at first, since she had had every intention of leaving the keep herself as soon as he had. But it took no time at all to discover that the despicable cur had taken every last remaining man-at-arms with him, as well as every last horse.
She had then thought briefly of taking herself off to the town to hide there, to leave the keep open with naught but the servants to greet Fulkhurst’s army. But this was a man set on vengeance as well as on conquering, and such a man might well burn the town down in search of Gilbert—or the new lady of Kirkburough. Escaping into the woods as Lyons’ substitute had done would not serve either. On foot, without money, she would not be able to rescue her mother before Gilbert discovered what she had done.
She was forced to follow Gilbert’s instructions this time, because there was naught else she could do. But she would make no demands. She would wait and see what terms were offered and go on from there. It could not be known that the keep was completely defenseless. The portcullis was down, the gate closed. From without, Kirkburough looked a strong keep. She did not doubt that she could wrest favorable terms from the warlord for herself and the servants.
And once she had met Fulkhurst and taken his measure, mayhap she could appeal to him for help. If he was no worse than Gilbert, she would offer her wardship to him. Of course, he already had three of her properties in hand, and was not like to give them back. She would not mention them. She had others still in Gilbert’s control—but Fulkhurst intended to take all that was in Gilbert’s control anyway, for himself. God’s mercy, she truly had naught to bargain with—nay, she could assist Fulkhurst. She knew Gilbert’s plans, could warn of his return. But would the warmonger believe her?
Mildred had wanted to go with her to the gatehouse, but Rowena convinced her to stay in the hall and do what she could to calm the servants. She took four of the menservants with her, for she had not the strength to raise the portcullis by herself. But she had waited almost too long. Fulkhurst’s army had arrived, was just beyond arrow range, and the sight of it, five hundred strong and armed for war, with nigh fifty mounted knights, sent the men she had brought with her into a panic.
They wanted only to run and hide, and she could not blame them when she felt the same. Yet she could not allow that, and her own fear added a coldness to her tone as she calmly explained that if they did not stay to help her, they would die; that either the enemy would kill them after crashing the gates open—or she would. The men stayed, though they cowered on the floor of the gatehouse, well away from the arrow slits.
Rowena watched, willing herself to calmness. So many knights. She had not expected that. And the red dragon breathing fire, aye, it flew on several pennants clearly seen, and many of the knights had it emblazoned on the trappings of their war-horses. It was indeed Fulkhurst, though she could not guess which of the mounted knights was him.
It did not take long before one man separated from the mass and rode up to the gate. He was not heavily mailed, not a knight, then. At least forty of the men-at-arms were also mounted, though not on the large destriers, and this was one of them.
He had a carrying voice. Rowena heard every word clearly, she just did not believe them. No terms, no assurances. Complete surrender or complete annihilation. She had ten minutes to decide.
There was naught to decide. Even if it were a bluff, which she doubted, she could not call it, for the men she had brought with her did not wait to hear her decision. They rushed to open the portcullis without her order to do so, and she could not stop them. All she could do now was go down to the bailey and wait for the army to enter.
The knights came in with swords drawn, but there was not a soul left in the bailey other than Rowena, who stood on the lower step of the keep. They did not seem surprised to find it so. And those sent to secure the walls did so quickly, without much caution or wariness that they would find aught to oppose them.
The remainder of the army approached Rowena, with three knights in the lead who dismounted first. Two had trappings so fine, they were likely both lords, though only one could be Fulkhurst, the other mayhap his vassal. Yet it was the third knight who walked slowly toward her, taller than the other two, sheathing his sword as he came. He did not take his eyes off her as he did this, eyes too shadowed for her to see clearly beneath his helmet.
She had chosen the wrong place to wait, with the sun behind them but shining directly on her. It lit her flaxen braids with golden sparkles, her alabaster skin to glowing whiteness, and made it difficult for her to tell anything about the man almost upon her, except that he was huge and fully armored. Even his mail coif was buckled over his lower chin, the helmet with wide nasal guard sitting low, both obscuring his features—except for the cruel slash that was his mouth.
She opened her mouth to give greeting, but only a gasp came out as his hands gripped her upper arms, so hard she thought the bones might crush. She closed her eyes against the pain, only to be shook once, sharply, to bring them open again.
“Your name?”
