Chapter Thirty-Four
Sweet, sweet Yorkshire!
After passing through the sheep town of Leeds, Guy was gleeful to finally be entering the providence of his birth. Even if he was at least a day from home, he was still drawing close and that fact boosted him considerably.
He’d had the rest of the night and the most of the next day to think of the knight who captured his wife. Having no idea who the man was or where he went, there was truly no way to follow him. Moreover, the closer Guy drew to Yorkshire, the more eager he was to reach abandoned Mt. Holyoak.
Guy spent half the night determining how he would gain the necessary men simply to defend the place.
He was sure his loyalist allies would provide him with ample manpower until such time as he could raise his own army, but the fact that de Russe was no doubt close on his heels worried him.
With the size of Gaston’s army, Mt. Holyoak could possibly fall under siege.
With no army of her own to defend herself, it would simply be a matter of time before she was breached.
He forgot more and more about Remington and focused on his keep and immediate future. After all, de Russe would assume that Guy would take Remington to Mt. Holyoak. Guy was still bound for his fortress, but now without the considerable addition of his wife.
Guy without Remington would not be worth the air he breathed.
Unless, of course, he lied and told de Russe that Remington was indeed with him, but forbade any contact between his wife and the Dark Knight.
That would keep de Russe guessing, desperate for a glimpse of his beloved and making it easier to keep the powerful duke at bay.
Or…. Guy could steer clear of Mt. Holyoak and retreat to one of his many allies in Yorkshire.
That would throw de Russe off and keep him guessing all the more.
Mayhap after enough guessing, he would eventually give up and return to London.
That in turn would leave Guy free to move about, free to occupy his keep, and free to search out his wife.
Eventually. But Remington was not the greater priority at the moment.
An insane, evil man with insane, evil thought patterns.
Guy had no true rhyme or reason for doing what he was doing, other than in the end, he simply wanted to be free to live out his life at Mt.
Holyoak. All the rest was purely because he liked torturing de Russe and Remington.
And because he was an escaped criminal, the two were also the key to keeping Henry managed.
Once, during the first months of his captivity, he had entertained the thought of a rebellion against Henry.
Carefully worded missives were sent between he and his allies that indicated such an uprising would be substantial, but from what Guy had seen and heard during his incarceration, it would not have been successful.
There were too many powerful people supporting Henry.
Guy had had enough of war, to be truthful. A selfish man, his attention had turned from rebellion to merely regaining his keep. He wondered if talk of rebellion still filled the Yorkshire circles, but he did not care anymore. He simply wanted to return home.
Dane had no meaning in his life. Neither did his young cousin, Charles. And he had long forgotten about his wife’s sisters. He had a new future ahead of him, and he faced it with eager anticipation.
It took him nearly the entire day to reach Wakefield, just south of Leeds. Another five or six hours would have him at Mt. Holyoak, depending on how well his horse withstood the vigorous pace. So far, the animal had done very well and Guy was confident he could reach his keep before the next morn.
He had long since dumped the papal tunic and pieces of too large plate armor. Lightened, he drove the destrier onward.
Just north of Leeds he stopped to water and rest the animal.
Under normal circumstances, he would not have cared if the horse had fallen and died under him, but he had to rely on this particular steed if he was going to make it to his destination.
Aye, he would ride to Mt. Holyoak first, just to see his beloved fortress for himself.
But after that, he was torn between riding for Knaresborough Castle or Summerbridge Castle.
Both housed valuable opposition allies, men he had been in contact with since his imprisonment.
Certainly Keith Botmore was closer, but Douglass Archibald of Summerbridge was more of an ally. Botmore was only interested in Remington, Guy thought, but an ally nonetheless. Trying to decide between the two seemed to occupy him for the moment.
Guy was preparing to mount again when there was a commotion of riders on the road. Out in the dead of night, he knew they were either robbers or cutthroats. As he scrambled into the saddle, one of the men shouted at him to hold.
He was outnumbered and his horse was exhausted as it was. Anymore hard running on the animal’s part and he would find himself walking the rest of the way. Confident he could talk his way out of any situation, he did as he was bade.
The riders swarmed around him, swallowing him up. Guy remained impassive, controlling the fear that sweated him. One of the knights rode alongside and scrutinized him.
“Identify yourself.”
“A poor knight, riding north in search of a fortune,” Guy lied humbly.
Another knight rode alongside, studying him intently. Guy tried to avert his gaze, yet his natural reaction was to meet the open stare. After a moment, the knight spoke.
“Remove your helm.”
Guy’s first thought was that he had run into a horde of Gaston’s men. Knowing it would be useless to refuse, he did as he was commanded.
“Stoneley,” one of the men gasped.
There was no use in pretending otherwise. Eyes hard, Guy lifted his gaze to silently challenge all men present. “Who do you serve? De Russe?”
One of the knights shook his head. “Nay, my lord. We’re Lord Lowrie’s men.”
“Of Harewood House?” Stoneley felt his whole body run hot and cold with relief. He knew Baron Lowrie well. “What are you doing so far from home?”
“’Tis the old feud, my lord,” the knight replied.
“The skirmish between Harewood and Bramham has been going on for as long as anyone can remember. Earlier this eve, one of Bramham’s men slipped into Harewood and stole off with Lowrie’s youngest daughter.
Thirteen, she is. We have already burned half of Bramham, but she’s not there. Lowrie’s frantic.”
The man had five daughters. How could he worry so over one? But Guy nodded, greatly relieved that he was not the subject of the search. He was very eager to be on his way.
“Ye have not seen anyone, have ye, my lord?” the other knight asked hopefully.
“Not a thing,” Guy replied honestly. “Well, good men, I must be on my way.”
“Say, we heard ye were locked up in the White Tower after Stoke,” the same knight mentioned. “I see the Tudor released ye?”
Guy gazed at the man a moment, seeing the possibilities of useful information. “So it would seem. How goes all in Yorkshire during my absence?”
“The same,” the other knight replied. “Botmore, Brimley, Ingilsby, and Tarrington; all the same. Except for Botmore, of course. He hasn’t been the same since the Dark Knight killed his son.”
“Killed Derek?” Guy repeated, surprised. “How did that happen?”
“We heard Derek was raiding Mt. Holyoak,” the knight replied confidently. “Sir Gaston de Russe killed him for trespassing.”
Guy lifted an eyebrow in thought. “Is that so? Fortunate that he has vacated the keep, which I have returned to claim.”
“He has not vacated it entirely,” the knight shook his head. “He keeps about a hundred men stationed there. Brimley oversees the fortress while the Dark Knight is in London,” he peered closely at Guy. “Did the Tudor not tell you this when he released you?”
Guy did not know what to say for the moment.
But he rebounded instantly. “Of course he did. I plan to stay at… Knaresborough until de Russe evacuates his men from my keep,” he gathered his reins hastily, eager to be gone.
“Allow me passage, good men.” They parted for him, watching as the weary brown destrier pounded down the road once more.
He was well out of range when the first knight turned to the second.
“I never thought I’d see him again,” he mumbled.
“The man stenches of the devil,” the second said. “Lowrie told tale of what he did to his wife. Say, I heard she left with the Dark One as his concubine. I heard the sisters were all killed.”
The first knight shrugged. “Who knows? Mayhap they are all rumors and lies. Mayhap he isn’t as bad as everyone says.”
*
Gaston did not stop again. Taran was frothing and sweaty, but he was used to difficult conditions and hearty.
Gaston kept a slower pace, but he did not let up.
His searing sense of urgency had gained in strength and power, pushing him onward with no hope of relief until he reached Mt.
Holyoak. Then, and only then, would he rest and plan.
He passed through Wakefield, heading into North Yorkshire. Skirting Leeds, he headed northeast and passed the cities of Boston Spa and Collingham. After Collingham, it was nearly a straight ride to Boroughbridge.
And then Mt. Holyoak.
He closed his eyes, if but to rest them a brief moment, but Remington immediately thrust herself into his weary mind. The familiar weakening, the familiar longing, saturated his limbs with liquid warmth. And pain.
He most definitely felt pain.
He saw the sea-crystal eyes twinkling back at him, her magnificent lips curved into a sweet smile. Her face, so sweet and beautiful, broke his concentration. The more he gazed at her beloved face, the more helpless and desperate he became.
His eyes flew open, forcing himself to breathe deeply, to refocus. He’d never felt so impotent and powerless in his whole life.
Be brave, angel. I am coming.
*