Chapter Sixteen #2
He sat down on the bench beside her, a proper distance separating them.
It had been two days since he had promised to go in search of Garren’s body and Derica couldn’t help but notice he’d not yet left.
Every time she saw him, she wondered when he was going to go about fulfilling his vow.
Even now, as he sat next to her, she realized her curiosity was turning to bitterness.
Perhaps he had no intention of going, after all, and had only agreed to stop her tears.
“I was hoping to see you this morning before I left,” he said.
Derica wondered if he had read her mind. “You are leaving?”
He nodded. “I have a long journey to Chepstow before me. I apologize that I did not leave right away, but there were some issues at hand that needed my attention.”
She began to feel guilty that she had thought badly of him. “What issues?”
“Nothing to worry over. Local grumblings, ’tis all.”
It occurred to her what local grumblings might mean. “The Welsh are planning to attack?”
He laughed softly. “Not so much as that. Besides, they could never breach Pembroke. Our position is so strategic that it would take intervention by God himself on their behalf. But they are unhappy as of late. That is normal. Their moods surge with the moon, it seems, and I find myself in the position of soothing local chieftains.”
Aneirin wriggled her way onto Keller’s lap, bread in hand.
He squeezed the girl affectionately. Derica watched the two of them, thinking that they would all make a fine family one day and feeling torn that she wanted no part of it.
She wanted the children, of course; with Mair’s death, they had understandably fallen under her care.
But Keller seemed more than willing to impart himself as their father and it was that thought she had such difficulty with.
Aneirin suddenly jumped up, with Sian on her tail.
They ran over by the great hearth where the dogs were gathered.
One mutt had a litter of puppies and the children scooped up happy armfuls of licking tongues and wagging tails.
Derica watched them, wishing she could be so happy and carefree.
The only time in her life she had ever felt that way was when she had been with Garren. Dear God, she missed him.
The ever-threatening tears filled her eyes and she looked away so that Keller would not see. But he caught the gesture.
“My lady, do not fret,” he said quietly. “I shall return as soon as I possibly can. I promised you that I would find Sir Garren, and I shall. Have no doubt.”
She wiped her eyes, struggling for control. “I have faith in you, Sir Keller.”
“I am glad,” he said. “Would you do me the honor, then?”
She looked at him, not sure what he meant. “For what?”
“Escort me to the door of the keep. I would like my last vision of this place as I leave to be your lovely face.”
Derica surmised it was the very least she could do.
Rising from the bench, she accepted Keller’s arm when he offered it.
As they proceeded across the hall, a distant horn sounded signaling that a rider had entered through the main gates.
Neither Derica nor Keller spared the noise any heed.
By the time they reached the door, Derica glanced up into the blue sky and thought it was an exceptionally lovely day.
She decided to escort him down into the bailey because she felt like walking in the sunshine.
By the time she and Keller were halfway down the retractable wooden staircase, she glanced up into a familiar face in the midst of the bailey. Derica stopped dead in her tracks.
“Fergus!”
Fergus thought he was seeing a ghost. But no ghost ever looked so lovely. Before he could stop himself, he leapt up the stairs and threw his arms around her. He almost fell, roughly pulling her from Keller’s grip. Derica shrieked in delight, which Keller took to be a scream.
The sword came out in the blink of an eye. “To your death, fool,” he snarled.
Derica caught the flash of metal. “No!” she cried. “Sir Keller, I beg you! I know him!”
Keller was far too close to slicing through Fergus’ neck. He almost nicked him in his haste to stop the blade. Fergus, however, was unaware of anything other than Derica in his arms. He held her out at arm’s length, his joyful gaze drinking in every feature.
“Sweet Jesus, it is you,” he murmured. “Are you truly alive or am I seeing a delicious spirit, sent to assault my weary senses?”
Derica was weeping with happiness. “I am alive, truly I am.”
He looked her up and down, still unbelieving. “You look real enough, I shall grant you,” he said joyfully. “You look… wonderful, my lady, just wonderful. But you look so slim. The last I saw you, you had.…”
He froze, realizing he was babbling, suddenly aware that the last time he saw her she had the rounded belly of a pregnant woman. He paled as Derica caught his meaning.
“It was not meant to be, not this time,” she murmured. Her grip on Fergus tightened. “But they told me of Garren. Dear God, they told me.”
Fergus shook off the shock of the lost baby, trying to focus on what she was saying. “They told you of…?”
She nodded before he could finish his sentence. “Did you see for yourself? Did you see him? Is that what you have come to tell me?”
“Tell you…?” Fergus noticed the big knight in his peripheral vision; the man didn’t look happy. He struggled not to say too much. “What have you been told?”
“That he is dead.” Derica burst into soft sobs. “Oh, Fergus… I simply don’t want to live any longer….”
She fell against him for comfort. Fergus could see the big knight turn away as she did so. He had no idea how jealous Keller was, or how hurt, watching Fergus comfort her the way he had wanted to.
She was crying as if her heart was broken into a million fragile pieces. Fergus held her gently. “Take heed, my lady,” he murmured in her ear. “All will be well, have no fear.”
Derica sobbed. “This damnable war,” she suddenly grew angry and pulled herself from his comforting embrace.
“This is all William Marshal’s fault. He murdered Garren as if he had taken the sword to him personally.
And to grant me titles and land in compensation for Garren’s loss is…
is an insult. It is worse. It is an affront to all that Garren stood for.
I would rather have my husband than a bunch of dirt and a pile of cold, heartless rocks. ”
Fergus was hearing a good deal of overwhelming information, struggling to maintain his composure and piece the puzzle together.
So the Marshal knew of Garren’s death, as they’d planned.
But what the old man did was unexpected if what Derica said was true.
There was more going on here than Fergus, or Garren for that matter, could have anticipated.
“But the lowest blow of all is the betrothal,” Derica was wiping her nose and eyes. “My feelings are in no way reflective of Sir Keller’s worthiness, but I am apparently to become a pawn in William Marshal’s game for some inconceivable reason. Why on earth should he…?”
Fergus cut her off then. He had to. Taking her firmly by the arm, he turned her in the direction of the keep.
“Perhaps we should speak of this inside, so that all the world cannot hear us.” He glanced at the big knight.
“My apologies for my dramatic entrance, sir knight. I am Sir Fergus de Edwin, a friend of the lady’s husband.
Up until a moment ago, I believed the lady dead.
You will understand my astonished reaction to her. ”
It didn’t make any sense to Keller, but at the moment, he didn’t much care. He was more concerned with Derica’s emotional outburst with the blond knight and struggling with the envy it provoked. He tried to be civil.
“I am Keller de Poyer, garrison commander of Pembroke Castle,” he said. “You seem to have caught us at an awkward moment, as I was just on my way to fulfill a promise to my lady.”
Derica spoke before Fergus could ask. “He is going to find Garren’s body, Fergus. He promised me that he would.”
Fergus just looked at her, trying to conceal his reaction to two very startling points; the big knight had the same name as the man Derica had mentioned in the same breath as her betrothal.
Furthermore, he wasn’t at all sure what promise the knight was planning to fulfill, but Derica’s statement had answered that.
There were wheels in motion here that he was adamant to stop.
“That will not be necessary,” Fergus said quietly.
Derica searched his eyes, her tears renewing. “You know where he is, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Oh… Fergus,” she began to sob again. “Where is he? I must go to him.”
Fergus was pleased that he didn’t have to lie to her. “I brought him back to Cilgarren.”
“Sweet Jesus!” Derica gasped. “I must go there at once, do you hear? At once!”
“You shall,” Fergus soothed her. “I shall return you today.”
Keller let out a piercing whistle. Fergus looked over to see that he was hailing some men-at-arms in the bailey. Keller quickly issued some orders to them, his intentions obvious.
“There is no need for your escort, sir knight,” Fergus said steadily. “I shall escort the lady to Cilgarren myself.”
Keller cast him a long look. “Though I thank you for your offer, you will not be offended if I insist on personally escorting my betrothed.”
Fergus stood his ground. “I am not offended in the least. But I assure you that I am quite trustworthy and capable of protecting my lady. There is no need to pull you from your duties here at Pembroke.”
“I have no other duties as important as my lady’s wishes.”
Fergus didn’t know what to do. Quickly, he ran all avenues in his mind and kept coming back to the same one. He had to tell them both the truth before this grew out of hand. The Marshal be damned; he could see a very bad situation rising. For Garren’s sake, he had to spill the truth.
“May we speak inside, privately?”