Chapter Fifteen
That night, the phantoms came.
A mist had moved in just after sunset, swathing the earth in a white shroud.
Everything was damp, coated with the mist, and the moon was mostly blocked, which meant the only lights were those of torches as the sentries went about their duties.
But everyone seemed on edge, even those who passed by Estevan, Titan, and Rodion as they stood near the gatehouse, watching the fog.
Waiting.
Somewhere, an owl hooted in the darkness.
Then it was silent again.
But the entire day hadn’t been filled with the same apprehension they were feeling now.
In fact, the day had passed uneventfully as the warriors wandered every inch of St. Margaret’s.
It was the first time they were able to see how big the place was.
As Estevan had noticed the first time they arrived, Whiteside Castle had become something strange because of all the odd construction that had gone on to create the walkways and corridors and even some outdoor space that used to be part of the original bailey.
That section was in the southwest corner of the ward and someone had tried to turn it into an outdoor cathedral because there were stones in circles that, once, were meant to be seats.
Beyond that were derelict outbuildings, half collapsed and forgotten.
Curious about the stone circle, Estevan had asked an old nun who had been following them around.
He didn’t know her name when he asked about the stones, but once they’d had about an hour-long conversation, she told him that her name was Sister Hildegarde and she did not approve of the men inside the compound.
Estevan had promised to behave himself if she promised to reevaluate her disapproval.
That comment had brought a smile from her, though she tried very hard not to show it.
She’d called him cheeky and a few other names and then stomped off.
But Estevan was pretty sure she hadn’t meant it.
As he wandered the complex, making note of anything that he considered a weakness, he had only seen Anaxandra a couple of times.
She had her duties and he respected that, but he had wished more than once that she would come and talk to him again.
It was true that he had more questions about the complex, but it was also true that he just wanted to talk to her.
He found that he liked talking to her. But she had work to do and he let her do it.
Still, he found himself hoping for a glimpse of her.
By the time evening rolled around, Estevan and Titan and Rodion had a pretty good idea of what St. Margaret’s strengths and weaknesses were.
Because it had been a castle before, it was already built for protection, so there really weren’t any great failings as far as that went.
The women of St. Margaret’s had kept it up very well, walls included, so all things considered, they were in a good position.
The only thing that Estevan didn’t like was the fact that the wall walk didn’t have a parapet.
The wall walk, for almost all castles, was usually guarded by a short stone wall to protect the defenders from flying projectiles.
He had asked Sister Hildegarde if St. Margaret’s had ever been attacked, and she had told him that it had never been, at least not in her lifetime.
Perhaps their peaceful existence had given them a false sense of security and no parapet had ever been built.
In any case, if they did get into a skirmish, they were going to have to be very careful about using the wall walk for defense.
One wrong move and someone was going to get pierced by a bolt or they were going to slip and fall over the side.
It was a good twenty feet to the ground below.
That was a long fall, time enough for a man—or woman—to think about their coming death.
Tonight, the three men found themselves on that wall walk, looking into the fog, wondering if the Ormsfolk were out there.
They heard more than one owl now, as the birds were territorial and their calls warned each other not to come into their domain.
There seemed to be at least three, perhaps more.
It only added to the uneasy mood that had settled.
Mists were always full of ghosts.
“I had a pet owl as a child,” Rodion said quietly.
Estevan and Titan looked at him. “How did ye come by it?” Estevan asked.
Rodion smiled weakly. “My father found it in the forest, wounded,” he said.
“He brought it home to eat it, but I begged him to have it for a pet, so he did. That owl was about as tall as I was at the time, with great, taloned feet. It was rather terrifying for a four-year-old child, but I made a home for it and nursed it back to health with the help of my nurse. When the bird became well, he followed me everywhere. He never left my side.”
“What happened to him?” Titan asked.
Rodion sighed. “One morning, I awoke and he was gone,” he said.
“Oh, I was so very heartbroken. As heartbroken as a child can be. But I saw him later and he’d found a mate.
I suppose a lady owl was more attractive than I was.
But sometimes I would find little dead mice or birds on my windowsill.
I knew they were a gift from him. I even wrote a poem about it called ‘My Owl Friend.’”
Estevan smiled. “Ah,” he said. “I’d expect nothing less from the poet. Do ye remember the poem?”
Rodion had to think a moment. “I wrote it so long ago, I do not remember much of it, but it went something like this—
In moonlight’s embrace,
An owl whispers secrets,
And a boy listens close.
Underneath a starlit sky,
Their friendship takes root,
And a love only they two share.
A boy.
His owl friend.
And a sky full of dreams.”
It was a sweet little poem. Estevan and Titan returned their attention to the mist, hearing the owls in the distance. “Mayhap that’s him,” Estevan said. “He’s looking for ye, Rody.”
Rodion laughed softly. “I’m sure he’s long dead by now.”
“Who is dead?”
The three of them turned to see Mother Michael coming out of the mist. Anaxandra was behind her, wearing a long leather robe against the damp night, something that would keep the dampness off her. A crossbow was slung over one shoulder while a quill of several bolts was slung over the other.
The woman had come for a battle.
“I was speaking of an old pet, my lady,” Rodion said. “I used to have a pet owl, and we’ve been standing here listening to the owls call to one another.”
Mother Michael’s thin face turned in the direction of the mist. “That is what I came to tell you,” she said softly. “We have never heard owls here before. Nightbirds, we have. But never owls.”
That had Rodion and Estevan standing straight from where they’d been leaning against the gatehouse’s second-floor wall.
Those few words, calmly delivered, had the surge of battle rushing through their veins.
They were already in full battle attire, with both Titan and Rodion in full armor and protection, so they were ready.
Ready and waiting.
We have never heard owls here before.
The spooky night had just gotten spookier.
“Men sometimes communicate in battle with whistles and birdcalls,” Titan muttered. “I’ve heard it before. The Gordon have been known to do it.”
Estevan nodded faintly, his focus on the darkness before them. “If it is men communicating, we need tae remove the torches from the wall,” he said. “They can see everything we’re doing.”
Mother Michael swiftly turned to Anaxandra. “Tell everyone to douse their torches and stay where they are,” she said. “I do not want someone misjudging a step and falling to their death. No light in the bailey, either. Hurry!”
Anaxandra nodded and fled the wall, walking too quickly for Estevan’s liking as she made it to the stairwell and disappeared.
He peered over his shoulder at the bailey below, watching her emerge from the tower and run to the first person she came across.
After a brief conversation, that person ran off, as did Anaxandra, and they disappeared into the mist, carrying the message.
Soon enough, the torches around the wall began to go out one by one.
There were torches down in the bailey also, and those went out as well.
Soon enough, everything was nearly black. There was no way to see anything.
Estevan returned his attention to the area in front of the gatehouse and waited. The owls were still calling to one another, only not as frequently as before. As he listened to them, an idea occurred to him.
“I’ll be back,” he told Titan. “Keep a sharp eye.”
Titan could barely see him in the darkness. “Where are you going?” he said. “You should stay put, Es. If you go over the side, you’ll break your neck.”
He grunted. “If I land on my head, it willna matter,” he said. “My da says my head is as hard as a rock. I willna hurt myself.”
Titan grinned, white teeth standing out in the mist. “You idiot,” he said. “Stay here.”
“I’ll be back,” Estevan said again, moving around Mother Michael. “I have an idea.”
“What idea?” Titan called after him. When there was no answer, he called again. “Estevan?”
But Estevan didn’t answer. He’d managed to find the tower with the stairwell and took the steps down to the bailey.
Once there, he felt a little better because the truth was that he wasn’t fond of heights, and most especially heights without protection to keep him from falling.
In the darkness, he quickly made his way over to the sanctuary.