Chapter 31
Griffith grew impatient. The last guest finally stumbled onto his pallet after Lord Westerbrook had challenged several of the noblemen present to a drinking contest. Silence now filled the great hall. The only sound heard was the crackling of the fire and heavy snores from at least a dozen men.
He deliberately bedded down as far from the fire as possible. He wanted to remain in the shadows so he could more easily slip from the room unseen. He hoped to locate Kallen in the same bedchamber across from the solar. His plan depended upon speed. He had no time to search for her.
He studied the room through slitted eyes. A good half-hour had passed since the last man stirred. Griffith hoped their drunkenness would lead to a deep sleep and allow him to ease from anyone’s notice.
Yet something nagged at him, a feeling that all still was not well. That’s why his gaze roamed the great hall, watching for whatever was out of place.
There, in the doorway. A shadowy figure appeared.
Griffith knew even from this distance the profile was Lord Nowland’s.
He checked up on his guests. Their host moved stealthily among the slumbering men.
Griffith closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, willing his chest to rise and fall as if in deep sleep.
He sensed the earl paused next to him before he finally stepped in another direction.
After a sweep of the entire room, Nowland returned to the doorway. Griffith suspected the nobleman would post Barley or some other guard immediately outside to keep any guests from wandering freely about Nowland.
Griffith counted on that. If he weren’t seen exiting the hall, Nowland would assume he was still within it.
He waited another few minutes and decided the time to act had come. Rolling silently to his feet, he remained crouched. He moved close to a tapestry that he’d avoided since the time he served in Nowland’s household.
King Alfred’s glories were portrayed in the scene.
As a young page in the earl’s care, Griffith had been fascinated with it.
He imagined himself riding as noble a steed as Alfred did, leading men in battle against the Danes amidst glorious cheers.
Crispin often led him away from it, hurrying him along to whatever duties the earl had assigned them.
Except for once. Long ago. At eight, he and Crispin were deemed old enough to be assigned to polish sugarloaf helms, cuirasses, and scabbards in the armory.
Griffith had other ideas, however. He’d taken to following around Timothy, one of the older squires.
Griffith promised Crispin he’d only be gone a few minutes, but he had to see what Timothy bragged about to Joseph, another of Nowland’s squires.
Griffith found the two in the stables, whispering like fishwives.
He hid behind several bales of hay while Timothy told Joseph of a secret passage he’d spied the earl using late one night.
Timothy followed the nobleman and found a network of passages that ran behind the walls throughout the keep.
The boys conspired to wait until late that night and explore them.
Then Nowland himself had interrupted the two squires’ conversation, lashing out with both tongue and fists.
Griffith quivered in terror as the earl beat the boys, Timothy in particular, for revealing his secrets.
As the young men begged for mercy, Griffith lit out, running blindly until he reached the armory.
He slipped inside, out of breath, finding Crispin hard at work.
He dared not tell Crispin what happened for fear of how the earl would respond.
Crispin, despite his youth, calmed his friend and quickly put him to work, even giving Griffith half of what he’d already polished.
Minutes later the man they fostered with appeared, roaring at the top of his lungs.
Nowland demanded to know if either page had been anywhere near the stables, as he’d caught sight of one there minutes earlier.
Crispin spoke for them both and showed Quentin how hard they had been working.
The earl left, disgruntled, and Griffith told Crispin he owed him a debt which he would someday repay. That fact was reinforced the next day even more so when both squires were sent home to their families in disgrace. Rumors abounded as to what mischief they’d been caught at.
Only Griffith knew it had been because of the boys’ knowledge of the concealed passageways inside Nowland. He kept the information to himself, never sharing it with Crispin, lest they be found out and returned home, dishonored.
Only on the night they rode to Nowland in search of Kallen did Griffith finally tell Crispin of that long ago day and the fate Crispin had saved Griffith from—and the fact that he had explored the hidden hallways a few times during the years they remained at Nowland.
He’d always been a bit of a risk taker, and the secret knowledge ate away at him until he satisfied his curiosity.
He came close to being caught only once, and he lost his taste for the game after that.
So now, many years later, he entered the panel hidden behind Alfred’s tapestry.
He knew exactly how to reach the room Kallen stayed in.
He also was aware of the tunnel under Nowland that would help them escape the estate.
It was how he’d planned to free Kallen the night he finagled an overnight invitation, only to lose his opportunity.
Griffith realized this would be his best and only chance to reach Kallen. He moved his hand along the wall for guidance until he touched the table he searched for. His fingers were sure in the dark as he lit the candle that he knew would be there, just as a store had been years earlier.
Within two minutes, he arrived at his destination. It suddenly dawned on him that he’d prayed the entire way there for Kallen to be the girl he knew and for her to want to escape from her father’s clutches.
Griffith eased the well-oiled panel aside and slipped into the darkened room, his candle dim in the large chamber. He spied Kallen, kneeling in prayer at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes closed. Her lips moved silently.
He did not want to startle her. For all he knew, Quentin would have a guard posted outside her door with so many visitors inside the keep.
Any noise might bring in a rush of men. Stealthily as any warrior would move, Griffith crossed the room and set the candle aside.
He quickly grabbed hold of Kallen, one arm encircling her waist, drawing her tautly against him.
His other hand closed over her mouth, preventing any screams.
She struggled briefly, her head lashing from side to side, and Griffith tried to calm her.
“Kallen, love,” he whispered in her ear. “’Tis I, Griffith.”
Her rigid body relaxed immediately, and a soft whimper sounded from her throat.
“No noise, sweetheart, else will be the rack for me.”
He turned her in his arms. The look on her face would be etched in his mind for all time. This was the woman he loved, and her love for him shone like a beacon. Despite the danger of the situation, desire flickered in him.
Griffith lowered his mouth to hers in a hungry kiss, one so sweet, he wondered if this was as the forbidden fruit Adam and Eve had been tempted to consume. As Kallen’s body melted into his, Griffith knew he would risk everything for the woman in his arms.
He lifted his lips from hers and told her, “We must flee this moment. I’ll not have another chance to free you.”
Kallen’s eyes filled with tears. “But he’ll only bring me back. He explained to me how he owns me, body and soul. Despite his evilness, despite my loathing for him, we have no choice, Griffith. He is my father, and I am his by law.”
She pressed a quick kiss upon his mouth. “I shall bring him down, though. He already begins to trust me, even after so short a time. But you must not succumb to his plot for my sake. Flee while you can. Say you’ve changed your mind, that you want no part in his schemes.”
Griffith brushed a tender kiss upon her brow. “Nay, my sweet. There is a way around the law. You’ll not belong to him for much longer.”
She stared at him blankly. “How? I cannot claim another as father.”
He smiled down at her. “But I shall claim you as my wife. A husband’s will takes legal precedence over a father’s. What God joins together, no man may put asunder.”
Kallen’s eyes widened, and then she broke out in the most brilliant smile.
“Now hurry,” Griffith whispered. “We have a ways to go, and a priest awaits us.” He retrieved the candle before guiding her toward the hidden passageway.
“Stay close behind me. The way is narrow, but I know it well. Take hold of my hand. I promise I shan’t let go. Simply trust me.”
Kallen said, “I shall merely follow your aura, Griffith. ‘Tis burning brightly now. That will allow you free use of your hands.”
He maneuvered them cautiously through the concealed path. He didn’t want any unusual bump in the night to stir an alarm. Kallen remained as his shadow, never faltering, until he led them to a ladder.
“You go first. I’ll be right behind you. When you reach the top, knock twice.”
Kallen did as she was told, tapping twice. Suddenly, the trap door opened, and she gulped a breath of the fresh, cold air, so different from that which had been in the musty tunnel. A hand reached for her and lifted her through. Griffith scrambled up after her.
She found herself staring into Crispin’s eyes. He smiled broadly and hugged her tightly.
“Forgive me all, Kallen,” he apologized. “I hope you will allow us to make a new start.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” She embraced him again and felt a burden lifted from her.
Griffith closed the trap door and covered it with dead leaves and a large rock. “Is he here?”
“Just in the woods, beyond the copse,” Crispin replied. “Here, Kallen, I’ve brought a cloak of Deva’s. She warned me the night air would be chilly. ‘Tis just like a woman to think of such creature comforts.”
“Then let us hurry,” Griffith said. He took her hand, and Kallen felt herself rushed along before she could ask about Deva. She was glad for the soft wool cloak, for the November night air was quite chilly.
They reached the copse, and Kallen saw two men standing there. One was John, her favorite among the guard that had escorted her to Mangeron. The other was a priest. She’d met him at the feast when she’d arrived at Mangeron. Had it only been a few days ago?
“Good evening, Lady Kallen.” His voice was low and musical. “I am Father Thomas. I hear you wish to be married?”
“More than anything, Father,” she replied earnestly.
“And you love this man, Sir Griffith Sommersby of Sommerset?”
Kallen clasped her hands to her breast. “I do, Father.”
“And you love this woman, my lord?”
Griffith wrapped an arm about Kallen’s shoulder and brought her close. “She is my reason for being, Father. She has brought love into my life and God back into my heart.”
A rush of strong emotion poured through Kallen at Griffith’s words.
This was the finest man she’d ever met, one that she knew God sent to her for a purpose.
“Then let us begin. I understand time is of the essence. Lord de Mangeron and Sir John shall act as your witnesses.”
And in a darkened wood in the middle of a cold November eve, Kallen pledged her love and her life to Griffith Sommersby.
The priest concluded the brief ceremony by allowing the couple to kiss. Despite their audience, Griffith kissed her at length till Crispin interrupted.
“Come on, Griff. ‘Tis cold out here.”
Griffith broke their kiss, and Kallen flushed with embarrassment at the eyes that stared at them.
“Don’t worry, my lady,” John assured her. “’Tis nice to see the two of you embrace as husband and wife.”
“Thank you, John. ‘Tis nice to have such a husband,” she replied.
“John, fetch the horses,” Crispin ordered, and the soldier hurried off. He turned to Griffith. “We will return to Mangeron. Shall you make your way to Sommerset? If you leave now and ride hard, you should reach it by dusk.”
“We will head there soon enough. Something else must be accomplished first.”
Kallen wondered what could possibly be more important than reaching her new home, but Crispin seemed to understand.
“My best to you both,” her uncle said. He kissed Kallen on her cheek and shook hands with Griffith. “I hope our next visit will be in more pleasant circumstances.”
John led Satan and Carrie into the clearing, and Griffith helped Kallen to mount.
“May Almighty God be with you,” Father Thomas said as he made the Sign of the Cross. “God speed you on your way.”
“Follow me,” Griffith instructed Kallen and gave a wave to the trio of men.
They took off at a gallop. Kallen focused all her attention on the road ahead since she’d never ridden at so fast a pace.
Carrie assured Kallen she would be safe in her saddle, reassuring Kallen that their escape would be successful.
After a half-hour, Griffith slowed Satan to a steady clip.
“We’ll ride at this rate for another two hours,” he told her. “Then we have a stop we must make.”
She nodded. They rode side by side in silence until Griffith eventually turned off on what seemed to be a little-used road. After another ten minutes, Kallen spotted an abode somewhat larger than a cottage.
Griffith signaled to her to follow him, and he rode around to its side. A small stable awaited them. Griffith dismounted and lifted her from the saddle.
“We are stopping here?” she asked. “I thought you wished to be as far away from Lord Nowland as possible.”
He cupped her cheek. “We have a good head start. It will be another hour or more before he arises. Does he come to check on you immediately?”
“He did the first day. Yesterday, I went directly to mass in his chapel and then saw him afterward when I broke my fast.”
“With all of his guests, he may look to their needs first. That shall buy us a little more time. I also think he’ll first rush to Mangeron and demand to see us. By the time he discovers we are not there, we will be well on our way.”
Kallen was baffled. “Then what are we doing here? I would think we would hurry to Sommerset and safety.”
Griffith took her hands. “And we shall, love. But before we ride further, we must make this a legal and binding marriage.”
“We are not already married?”
He laughed. “Yes, of course we are. But the first thing your father would try to do is annul the union.” Griffith paused then looked at her steadily. “We must consummate this relationship, Kallen. Now, before Nowland would tear us apart.”