Epilogue
Sherborne Castle
“Great Bleeding Jesus,” Cortez grunted. “Is everyone not ready yet? It will be a three-day journey to the Marches and you know I wanted to leave on time. What on earth is the delay?”
He was standing on the landing just outside of the great bedchamber he shared with Diamantha at Sherborne, watching his children scatter past him; two small boys, aged seven and four, ran down the staircase while three girls, aged twelve, ten, and nine years, ran into the chamber across from the master’s chamber and slammed the door.
This level had two bedchambers, one belonging to him and his wife, and the other belonging to his daughters.
But the boys had a chamber on the floor above and it seemed as if everyone was migrating in a great herd in front of him, in all different directions, and suddenly they were all gone except for one.
Cortez called out to the last child remaining.
“Rhodri,” he addressed his eldest. “Where is everyone going? Are all of your brothers and sisters ready to depart?”
Rhodri de Bretagne was a very big lad, handsome and well-mannered, named for Gorsedd’s grandfather who had lost his life at the hands of Jax de Velt.
He had been fostering at Blackstone Castle in Norfolk for the past four years and had only recently returned at the request of his mother, who had missed him very much.
Moreover, the family was about to celebrate a milestone in their lives: the birth of Diamantha and Cortez’s first grandchild, Sophie’s son, and the entire family was heading to the Welsh Marches to visit Trelystan Castle, the seat of the great marcher lords, the House of de Lara.
Sophie had married into the very big clan and the birth was cause for celebration for all concerned.
In fact, Diamantha had wanted all of her fostering children home for this great event, so the keep of Sherborne was full of brothers and sisters who had not seen each other in quite some time.
Therefore, it was a bit chaotic. But neither Cortez nor Diamantha cared.
They were simply thrilled to have all of their children home again.
“Father, the girls will not listen to me,” Rhodri said, sounding as if he was defending himself. “When I told them we had to leave, they yelled at me.”
Cortez looked at his son, lifting his eyebrows drolly. “They yelled at you?”
Rhodri nodded seriously. “Loudly,” he insisted. “They were loud.”
Cortez shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And that frightens you?”
Rhodri stood his ground. “Sometimes they throw things, too,” he said. “Allegria threw a shoe at me yesterday. She is a very mean girl!”
Cortez couldn’t help the wry expression. “Lad, do you realize you are quite a bit bigger than they are?” he asked, almost rhetorically. “You could have forced them to come.”
Rhodri cocked his head. “Could you force them to come?”
Cortez backed off, but not entirely. “Aye,” he said. “I can. Diamantha?”
He called out to his wife who was inside their chamber finishing with the last of the packing. From inside the room, they heard her muffled reply.
“What is it?” she called.
“Sweetheart, can you please attend me?” Cortez responded politely.
As he and Rhodri eyed each other, confident that the rebellious girls would soon be defeated, Diamantha appeared, her hands clutching a blanket for the new baby that she had been trying to pack.
Her bags were nearly full, however, and it was taking a bit of effort.
In the dimness of the landing, she smiled at her son first before turning to Cortez.
“What is it?” she asked.
Cortez opened his mouth to speak but Rhodri interrupted his father. “I tried to tell the girls that we must leave and they yelled at me,” he said. “Papa wants you to tell them we must depart.”
Diamantha lifted her eyebrows and looked at her husband, who merely nodded his head as if it were an entirely serious matter. Diamantha shook her head reproachfully.
“And you cannot do this?” she hissed, holding up the blanket. “I am not quite finished packing the baby’s items.”
Cortez lifted his shoulders. “They throw things.”
Diamantha turned her head. She didn’t want her husband or son to see that she was about to laugh.
“You are both bigger and stronger than they are,” she said, but she dutifully went to the door on the opposite side of the landing and rapped on it heavily.
“Allegria? Isabella? Juliana? If you are not down in the wagon by the time I finish packing, and I am nearly finished, then I will take my hand to your backsides. Is that clear? Your father is coming in to collect your baggage, so you had better be prepared.”
She could hear hissing and shuffling behind the door. Satisfied, she turned to her husband and eldest son. “There,” she said. “I have tamed the wild beasts for you. All you have to do now is go in and collect their bags. That should not be too hard, should it?”
Rhodri looked embarrassed while Cortez merely grinned. “You are a marvel of womanhood,” he said, pulling her to him and kissing her cheek. “A goddess divine. A….”
Diamantha put a hand over his mouth, grinning as she pulled away. “Enough flattery,” she said, looking at Rhodri. “Go upstairs and get your brothers, Rhodri. Cruz and Mateo are already packed. I finished up their things myself last night.”
Rhodri pointed down the stairwell. “They are already down in the wagon, Mother.”
She reached out and patted his cheek. “Thank you, my son,” she said, seeing so much of Cortez in that handsome little face. “Go to them. I will finish packing and meet you down there.”
Rhodri turned obediently, heading for the stairs that led down to the ground floor of the keep and subsequently out to the massive bailey of Sherborne. Cortez stole another kiss from her and turned for his daughter’s chamber but a word from his wife stopped him.
“Cortez, wait,” she said. When he paused and looked at her, expectantly, she continued.
“Do you recall those years ago when we returned from Falkirk with Robert’s possessions?
Do you recall how we discussed giving them to Sophie for her first son?
Where did you store those items? I should like to bring them for her now. ”
Cortez nodded in both remembrance and agreement. “They are in my solar,” he said. “I put them in a chest. I shall have the chest put on the wagons.”
Diamantha put the blanket aside. “Let me see what is in that chest first,” she said. “I never did look through everything when it was brought back. I… I suppose I did not have the strength. Did you ever look through his things?”
Cortez shook his head, trying not to think back to that time, a time that had been so wonderful yet so terrible.
It was a time that had given him a secret he had kept from his wife all these years.
With time, the guilt of bearing it had eased, but it had never gone away completely.
Now, with the mention of Robert Edlington, it threatened to return.
“Nay,” he said softly. “I suppose I did not particularly want to. I simply packed everything away.”
Diamantha understood. “Then we should probably take a look now just to see what we will be giving her.”
Cortez took her hand and escorted her to his solar, which was in a wing of the complex of Sherborne that was separated from the keep.
The great stone buildings that made up the complex of Sherborne were cool on this day, a bright day in spring that had dawned quite cold.
In fact, the entire spring had been unseasonably chilly.
By the time they reached the well-appointed solar that smelled of rushes, Diamantha was rubbing her arms against the chill.
Cortez went over to a great wardrobe that was situated behind his well-used desk, a cabinet that held his writing implements, law books, and other things.
It was quite cluttered. On the bottom shelf was a rather large chest, and Cortez pulled it out, setting it upon his desk.
As he bent over to pull out the broadsword that had once belonged to Edlington, still in its scabbard, Diamantha opened the top of the trunk.
The first thing she saw was Robert’s tunic, the one he had been wearing when he had been wounded.
So many memories tumbled upon her, memories she hadn’t thought of in years.
Some were sad, some were not. With a sigh, she carefully pulled out the tunic and held it up, inspecting it.
It was dirty and yellowed with age, but the impact of the sight of it was not any less powerful.
“Do you suppose she is going to want this?” she asked.
Cortez set the broadsword down on the table, looking at the tunic. “Has she ever seen it?”
Diamantha shook her head. “I never showed it to her. I never saw the need.”
Cortez put his arm around her shoulders, his gaze on the tunic that held very heady memories for him. Once again, he could feel the sorrow of that day, a day that had changed his life forever. It was a struggle not to linger on the reflections.
“We can bring it,” he said softly. “She is old enough now that she may want to see it. It will be her choice whether or not she wants to keep it.”
Diamantha nodded and carefully folded it, setting it aside. The chest contained a saddlebag, one of two that Robert had owned, but the second bag had never been located. She pulled the bag out and set it on the desk next to the chest as Cortez untied the top and opened it up.
He pulled out knitted gloves, a knitted cap, and two tunics that had belonged to Robert. Diamantha took the tunics, inspecting them.
“I remember when I made these,” she said, almost wistfully. “Robert had put on weight and they were too tight, but he insisted on wearing them. I told him he looked as if he were wearing a sausage casing.”
She chuckled at the memory, as did Cortez. But when the laughter died, Cortez watched her expression, wondering if the humor was giving way to sorrow.
“How do you feel seeing all of this again?” he questioned.