Twelve minutes later, the great gates of Oxborough swung outward, as did the narrow postern gate.
Seventeen cloaked and hooded women walked through the main gates and the postern gate, their heads down, their steps coming directly toward de Luci and his line of men.
De Luci howled. “I will not have this! Which one of you is Hastings? All of you, remove the cloaks and hoods! Do it now or I will kill all of you.”
But the women just kept walking toward him. He shouted at his men to bring them all down, then knew that if Hastings were among them, he could kill her. She was his salvation, only she could protect him. He could not kill her, not until the king had given her to him, removed Severin as the Earl of Oxborough, and placed him in his stead.
Seventeen women! What was the meaning of this? “ Hastings, come out! I won’t stand for this. Leave the rest of the women and come to me. Come now or the Healer dies!”
But the women just kept walking toward him, steps unhurried, coming, coming. De Luci’s horse fidgeted, rearing back, trembling with its master’s fury and indecision. The men behind him were all yelling at the women, all of them sounding worried and frightened. Of seventeen women? De Luci snarled. He wouldn’t stand for this. He hurled the Healer from his horse, sending her to roll away from him in the dirt. He rode his warhorse directly at the women. Not five feet from them, he heard a woman shout, then all of them threw back their hoods.
There were only three women. The rest were Oxborough men-at-arms. They raised their bows and arrows. De Luci yelled, whipped his warhorse about, and rode wildly back to his men. He grabbed Eloise from Marjorie and pulled her up in front of him. Arrows rained around him. He heard his men screaming in pain.
He grabbed the reins of Marjorie’s palfrey, jerking them out of her hands, and rode away from Oxborough, toward the cliffs of the North Sea.
Hastings set her bow and arrow down at her feet. She’d brought down one of de Luci’s men. “He has Eloise and Marjorie,” she said, and felt like a failure. But the Healer was all right. She was standing now, brushing dirt from her gown. The yellow ribbon tying her thick braid had come unfastened and was dangling by her face.
Beamis came running full tilt to Hastings, shouting, “It worked. I knew it would work. You and Alice and Lady Moraine were well guarded. Aye, an excellent stratagem.” He was rubbing his hands together. “Aye, now we will catch him, Hastings. How far can he get with the child and that unkind angel with her silver hair whom every man desires?”
Alice was with the Healer, helping her dust herself off. The Healer came to Hastings and said, “Listen to me, all of you. He is mad. His brain has given way to the red mist. It is rage and impotence that fill him now. He is very dangerous. He looks at you, Hastings, and sees you as his only hope. He believes you will guard him from the king’s wrath. He will not give up until he is dead or he has you, Hastings. Do not let yourself get close to him. Once he realizes that you cannot save him, he will slit your throat.” She lightly touched her fingertips against the thin line de Luci had drawn with his knife across her throat.
“I will not let him near me, Healer. Let us mount and go after him. I must get Eloise. Healer, please remain here to tell Severin what has happened if he returns.”
34
SEVERIN SAW HER FACING DE LUCI AT THE CLIFF EDGE, HER cloak billowing out behind her, the harsh sea wind lifting her hair off her face. Marjorie and Eloise stood behind de Luci where he’d shoved them, close to the cliff’s edge.
De Luci’s four remaining men clustered around him, all armed, all ready. No one was moving. Hastings was speaking, but he was too far away to hear her words. He held up his hand, holding all his men silent and motionless.
“He has Marjorie,” Sir Alan said.
Severin grunted. He didn’t particularly care if de Luci took Marjorie to the Holy Land with him. If he never saw her again, he would count himself blessed. His eyes were on Hastings. What was she planning? He knew she was planning something. She occasionally thought of excellent strategies. He knew he would have to wait, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to strangle both her and Beamis for allowing this, when it was over. Pray God that it would be over soon, that she would be all right. It seemed a desperate prayer, but there was nothing else for him.
Hastings said very slowly, “You can escape, Richard. I will allow the men to let you go if you release Marjorie and Eloise now. There is nothing for you here. You must forget about Oxborough. It will never belong to you. I cannot guard you. I cannot protect you. Do you understand me?”
But she saw the blank rage in his eyes, the mad hunger in his soul, knew that if she were closer, he would grab her, and in his madness, mayhap even hurl her over the cliff.
She spoke louder, to his men. “Listen, all of you. There is nothing for you to do. Will you kill me? Lady Marjorie and Eloise? Why? It will gain you nothing but a deep pit in hell. Sheath your swords. Walk away from this.”
De Luci screamed, “Any of you whoresons leave me and I’ll flay the hide from your backs!”
Several of his men were backing away. His words didn’t slow them. Hastings could see the impotent rage in his eyes, making him shake, and she knew deep down that he would never release his mad dream of what he believed should be his.
She felt the knife she held against her cloak. She wanted to go to him. She wanted the chance to stick her knife in his black heart, but she had promised Beamis to hold back.
It was at that moment that Hastings knew Severin was close. She knew he was waiting. He couldn’t come closer, for it would probably mean Eloise’s and Marjorie’s death.
De Luci turned to say something low to Marjorie. She shook her head at him, and he raised his fist. Then, suddenly, before he could strike, Marjorie grabbed Eloise and pulled her to the ground at the cliff’s edge. They rolled once, twice, Marjorie’s arms around Eloise, then they disappeared over the edge, Eloise’s single scream rending the silent sky. Hastings felt her blood riot in her body. Marjorie had killed the both of them? Oh God, she couldn’t begin to bear this. She stared at de Luci, who had turned his head for a moment to look at where Marjorie and his daughter had stood. Then he shrugged. He merely shrugged. What had he said to Marjorie? What had she said to earn his fist? What threat had he made that had sent her and Eloise into oblivion?
Hastings could not have stopped herself even if she had thought deeply about it. De Luci had brought them to this. He was responsible for all the misery that had come upon them from the very beginning. He was a monster and he was mad. She raised the knife and threw herself at him, the knife coming down toward his chest in a high arc.
He grabbed her arm, but she was strong. Her rage made her even stronger. Beamis was upon them, but they were very close to the edge now, too close.
Beamis was yelling at Hastings to back off, to get away from de Luci, but she couldn’t. Both of them were locked together now, even as the knife came down closer and closer to his chest.
Suddenly, she felt the point ease through the cloth of his tunic. So easily it slid in, but it didn’t slow him. He was yelling, his spittle flying into her face, raging at what she had cost him, and now she had stabbed him and surely she would die for it.
Suddenly, she felt something grab her ankle. Her eyes flicked over the side of the cliff and what she saw astonished her. But de Luci grabbed her, jerking her close, and she knew she would die. She shoved the knife deeper into his chest. He jerked back with the agony of it, screaming, and reeled off the edge of the cliff. At the last moment, he grabbed her, pulling her, and she knew she had no purchase. She yelled Severin’s name even as she went over.
Severin watched as de Luci and his wife, locked in a death embrace, disappeared over the cliff.
“No!”
De Luci’s few men had thrown down their weapons. But it didn’t matter. Beamis was enraged. The four men were dead in but moments.
“No!”
Severin flung himself off his warhorse’s back and ran to the cliff edge.
He knew what he would see. He would see Hastings still locked against de Luci, both of them crushed on the rocks below.
But he saw only de Luci. She must be beneath him, the whoreson had her pinned beneath him. Severin could tell that his neck was broken.
Severin was panting, heaving with the agony of it, searching frantically for a path down to the beach and rocks below.
“Severin.”
He shook his head back and forth, back and forth. No, it couldn’t be true. Dear Jesus, he could hear her calling to him, but she was dead, locked beneath that madman. He felt shock pulling at his brain, felt helpless rage pouring through him like a wound that would bleed his very life away.
“Severin.”
No, he was leaving himself now, going toward her, hearing her, wanting just to see her once more, just hold her once more.
“Severin!”
“My lord, it’s Hastings! By Saint Anthony’s blessings, it’s Hastings!”
Severin threw himself on his belly, leaning out over the cliff as far as he could without falling. He couldn’t believe what he saw. A ledge jutted out some three feet below him. On the ledge Marjorie was stretched out her full length, her feet hooked beneath a narrow overhang. Eloise knelt beside her. They were both clinging to Hastings’s arms as she dangled off the ledge.
“Severin,” Marjorie shouted, “we aren’t strong enough to pull her up! You must help us.”
Within moments, men were holding a rope tied securely beneath Severin’s arms. They lowered him until he was on the ledge. He grabbed Hastings’s arms and dragged her up.
“You’re alive,” he whispered again and again in her dirty hair. “I couldn’t have borne it if that whoreson had killed you. I’m going to strangle you when I get you home. I love you. At the very least I will beat you. You deserve that, Hastings. You deserve your last punishment that I never meted out to you either afternoon in the forest. By all that’s holy, I love you.”
“And I you,” she whispered against his neck. She raised her eyes and he saw the blank shock in them. He stroked his large hands up and down her back even as she said in a singsong voice, “I killed him, Severin. I stuck my knife in his chest.” She looked over at Marjorie, who was on her hands and knees, breathing heavily. “Then something grabbed my ankle. I looked down and saw Marjorie on the ledge. She was trying to pull me over to save me. I shoved the knife deeper into his chest and he went over, but he grabbed me and I couldn’t pull away. When I struck the ledge, I rolled off, but both Marjorie and Eloise grabbed my arms and held me. She and Eloise saved me.”
His hand was on her belly, lightly caressing. He said nothing. He let her talk—it would bring her back to him. He felt her give a great shudder, then she stilled.
“Our babe is all right,” she said, lightly laying her hand over his fingers. “He’s all right, don’t worry.”
Severin couldn’t believe this. He shook his head. Marjorie, who hated Hastings, had saved her life? By all that was holy, it was beyond his comprehension. He sent Hastings up first. It never occurred to him to send up the child first. He wanted Hastings safe. At last.
It took some time to get all of them back to safety.
The instant he was on firm ground, Severin grabbed Hastings, pulled her against him, squeezing her so tightly she knew she heard her ribs groaning. “Never again will I let you out of my sight,” he said, then, “Never again. I love you but you will fight no more of my battles. Never again. I have decided that if I do not control you, I will die of the strain of it. Aye, you will remain in our bedchamber. You may mix your herbs but nothing more. Perhaps soon I will allow you to come into the great hall, but only after I have ensured that it is safe for you, only after you have sworn to me that you will never stick a knife in another man’s chest. Well, mayhap that would be acceptable, but you will do no knife sticking next to the edge of a damned cliff.
“Aye, and then you will only leave the great hall if I give you permission and then you will always have me with you. Do you understand me, Hastings? I will not let you out of my sight again. I love you and I will now strangle you. Come, we will go home now and I will strangle you and then the Healer will make certain that our babe is all right.”
She kissed his chin and tried to squeeze him as hard as he was squeezing her. “Just a moment, Severin. Marjorie and Eloise saved me. I must thank them.”
He released her although he didn’t want to. He watched her walk slowly to where Marjorie stood, alone, with Sir Alan some feet away from her, looking at her as if he wanted to consume her. Eloise was clutched against her side, crying. Marjorie was comforting her and doing a fine job of it, Hastings had to admit, though she didn’t particularly want to.
“You saved me,” Hastings said. “You didn’t have to, yet you did. You grabbed my ankle. You let me know I could fall over and land on the ledge with you. You grabbed me when I fell with de Luci. You didn’t let go. You also saved yourself and Eloise. That was excellent, Marjorie, though it pains me to have to say it. Aye, it was excellent.”
“Thank you, Hastings. I am very tired of all this furor. My heart is still pounding with fright. Come, little sweeting, let me dry your tears. We are all safe and your father is finally dead.” Then Marjorie raised her beautiful eyes to Hastings’s face. She threw back her glorious silvery hair. “I had to save you, I had no choice.”
“When you and Eloise disappeared over the cliff edge, I believed you were killing yourselves.”
“Oh no, I saw the ledge. I prayed, Hastings. I prayed more in those seconds than I have ever prayed in my life. I nearly lost Eloise, but I managed to get her onto the ledge. When I grabbed your ankle, I wanted you to know that we were there and you would be all right. I am glad we managed to hold on to you until Severin came. Since I had my feet beneath that overhang, I was in no danger of being pulled over with you.”
“I hate this,” Hastings said, scuffing the toe of her shoe. “I really do hate this, but I will say it again. Thank you, Marjorie, for saving me. I really didn’t make your nose swell or turn red.”
“I know. It was Lady Moraine. She was trying to protect you. Her punishment gained my respect.”
“What think you of marrying Sir Alan and remaining at Sedgewick? Severin must ask the king, but he will probably agree. Perhaps you could visit Oxborough once every five years.”
Marjorie laughed. “Aye, that is an acceptable idea. Sir Alan pleases me sufficiently.”
“You will never have to worry again that you will starve.”
“No, I daresay that I won’t. And I will have my Eloise forever.”
Severin couldn’t stand it anymore. He was upon them in an instant. He picked Hastings up in his arms and strode away with her, calling over his shoulder, “I will send a messenger to the king on the morrow. Sir Alan, see to Lady Marjorie and Eloise. I believe we would like you to return immediately to Sedgewick. All your men as well. Ah, before you leave, bury de Luci’s men. Leave him on the beach below, I care not.”
Hastings said, as she nibbled his earlobe, “At least I won’t have to see her silvery hair for five years.”
It was very late. The castle was quiet save for the snores of the men sleeping in the great hall, and Belle, who could make noises louder than any man-at-arms at Oxborough. Beside her the armorer was sleeping blissfully. He was sprawled out on his back and he looked dead.
In their bedchamber, Severin was over his wife, deep inside her, staring down at her face in the dim light of the single candle.
“No, Hastings, don’t move. I just want to remain here for a while, just feel you and know that I am feeling you without lust rampaging through my body. I want you to feel my love for you, which at this moment is greater than my lust, but I cannot promise that it will last much longer.” He leaned down and kissed her. He said into her mouth, “You are mine now, damn you. No more strife between us, no more believing it is another woman I want. I want only you. Will you strive to believe me?”
“You mean that I cannot y
ell at you when you vex me with your orders, or you trample my daisies?”
“Aye, you can yell so loudly that the gulls will come in from the sea to see what is happening. That has nothing to do with the core of us. What is between us will grow, Hastings, and become more powerful as time passes. Do you believe that?”
“Aye, I must for I love you more than I love life. When Marjorie visits Oxborough in five years, you swear you will not stare at her and whisper about her silvery hair?”
“I will spit at her feet.”
She laughed, lifting her hips just a bit. He bit her chin. “Obey me, Hastings, and hold yourself still, else it won’t go well for you.”
She laughed. “Even if I were to enrage you in the future,” she said, giving him that siren’s sloe-eyed look, “I now know exactly what to do to make you forget every shred of your anger. Aye, I know exactly how to make you as blissfully happy as Gilbert the goat with a new boot to chew.”
“I know that you do.”
She stared up at him, forgetting for a moment that he was beginning to move slowly within her. “What do you know?”
“My mother loves me. Her loyalty is to me. Dame Agnes and Alice are very fond of my mother. They also believe she has sound advice. They don’t believe my advice is so bad either. Indeed, there was a good deal of laughter.”
“What does that mean?”
He moved more deeply now, and she felt him touching her as only he could. She didn’t think again for some time. When at last she was breathing more easily, feeling the heat of him against the length of her, knowing that a woman couldn’t be happier or more content than she was at this moment, she said again, “What do you mean that your mother loves you? Naturally she loves you. You are her son. What do you know? What is this about Dame Agnes and Alice? What about laughter?”
“My mother told me you were always in your best humor when you were working in your herb garden. She said it was there that I had my best chance of having you decide to work your skills on me.”