Chapter Sixteen
When Marion saw the golden towers rising into the darkening sky, she felt the hope that had dwindled down to nothing resurge, for to her, at least, Campion was invincible. Beauty, majesty and power were reflected in its warm stone, while supreme male confidence radiated from all who dwelled within.
They gathered the other brothers to them along the way, Nicholas from another field, Reynold from the forest, the rest swarming about her in the yard, rushing through the great doors of the hall to meet her just as the heavens opened, drenching them all.
And once inside, Marion trembled—not from the soaking wet state of her clothing, but from the knowledge that she was safe at last. And yet her mission had just begun, and in the warm, throbbing emotion of her homecoming, she had not forgotten it.
She had tried to tell her story to Geoffrey in between her tears of relief, but he had been too sensible to listen. “Save your strength,” he had told her. “To tell Campion.”
Geoffrey fended off the pounding questions of his siblings, too, wrapping her in his protective embrace, and half-carrying her through the massive doors of the hall as the noisy tumult of the de Burgh brothers and their dogs surrounded them.
Mercy, but Marion had forgotten what a welcome was here!
Once, she had longed for nothing more than to be a part of this family, and now they greeted her just as if she were—without even knowing that, in truth, she was a de Burgh.
New tears arose at the thought. What would they say to know she had married their brother, the Wolf?
Looking up through a haze of sentiment, Marion saw the earl of Campion, her father by marriage, coming down the steps in stately elegance. His wise eyes were bright with concern as they lit upon her, and seized by a sudden heedless urge, she ran across the tiles to throw herself into his arms.
“Marion, Marion, my child.” He murmured soft, comforting words as he led her to a chair and settled her in, just as if she were a child. Indeed, she felt like one again, enveloped in warmth and strength. “Wilda! Fetch some wine and food for the lady, and a dry cloak.”
Like a drowned rat, Marion sat shivering with the intensity of the emotions whirling through her, but when she tried to speak, a look from the earl silenced her. “Wait, my dear, until you have had a bite. And then, you must begin at the beginning, when you left us.”
Nodding her agreement, Marion waited, letting herself absorb the sights and sounds of the beloved hall around her—and the faces!
Although she spoke not, her companions did, and she welcomed the babble of familiar voices and the dear features, all topped by that thick, dark hair that named every one of them Campion’s son.
The earl signaled his readiness without a word, and Marion managed a slight smile.
She had forgotten his great dignity, his easy command.
How different he was from his firstborn!
Marion’s mouth dipped precariously at the thought of Campion’s eldest son, and she folded her hands neatly in her lap in an effort to keep herself calm.
Although she wanted nothing more than to drag the boys off to Wessex at once, she knew she needed to tell her tale slowly and coherently.
Taking a deep breath, she began to speak.
Although ashamed to admit that she had not completely complied with the earl’s wishes when Dunstan tried to take her home, Marion dutifully related the truth.
“I am sorry, my lord, for repaying you in such a fashion, but I was afraid to go to Baddersly, so I fled the train you so kindly provided as my escort.”
Seven pairs of eyes met over her bent head before Geoffrey cleared his throat. “You…escaped from…Dunstan?” At Marion’s nod, there were several groans, a laugh from Stephen, and one whoop, as Nicholas relayed his astonishment.
“Yes. He always found me, but he was not very pleased,” Marion admitted. The seven pairs of eyes met again, in silent accord, at what had to be an understatement. “The third time—”
“What?” A flurry of voices erupted around her as the de Burgh brothers protested that she could not have thrice managed to leave their oldest sibling, the largest, most skilled and most ferocious knight among them.
Marion waited until the denials died away before continuing. “The third time, we were forced to spend the night in the woods, and the next morning, when we returned to camp,” she said, her voice breaking, “we found everyone slain.”
“Where was this?”
“Everyone?”
“By faith, we shall be avenged!”
Marion ignored the outburst as each de Burgh brother spoke at once until a gesture from their father silenced them.
With a flick of his gaze, Campion motioned for her to proceed.
“When I saw the…bodies, my memory returned…because ‘twas so much like what happened to me. Remember, when you found me, Simon, Geoffrey?” She glanced at each of them, touched by the gentle compassion on Geoffrey’s face, and the fierce outrage that twisted Simon’s features.
“When I remembered, I knew not only who I was, but that ‘twas my uncle’s men who had attacked my train. And so I thought this new massacre was his doing, too, to kill me.” Although Marion tried to speak slowly, she could not dam the pulsing tide of agitation that grew within her.
Every moment signified a delay that might cost the Wolf his life, and she rushed to finish.
“But Dunstan recognized something about one of the arrows and knew it to be from his neighbor, Fitzhugh. And now Fitzhugh has him, imprisoned in his own castle. Oh, you must go, at once!”
Around her, the babble of voices exploded again, but Campion stopped it swiftly. “Marion,” he said softly, his brow furrowed. “What of your uncle?”
“He would still kill me! He locked me up in the tower, but Dunstan rescued me.”
“Now, wait a moment,” Campion said, even his gentle demeanor showing a strain. “You are telling me that after taking you all the way home, Dunstan turned around and freed you?”
“Yes, my uncle tried to have him killed, too! We were pursued at every turn, and ofttimes knew not who was after us.”
“Just you and Dunstan?”
Marion nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but Campion held up his hand to halt the flood he obviously knew was waiting to issue forth. “So you came back here.”
She faltered for a moment at that, wishing that for once the Wolf had considered her opinion, but he had not, and now he was held.
“We went to Wessex, but Walter, one of Dunstan’s most trusted men, was waiting.
He betrayed Dunstan. And he and his men took him, my lord!
They tied him to the back of a horse and dragged him away! ”
Marion lifted her hands to her face, a sob escaping into the deadly silence of the hall. Either the de Burgh brothers had been struck speechless or Campion was keeping his sons quiet. “They did not see you?” the earl asked gently.
She shook her head and dropped her palms. “No. Dunstan told me to stay back, so I waited. And then I came here to you.”
For a long moment all was still, and then she heard Nicholas’s hushed voice. “You rode all the way from Wessex by yourself?”
Marion looked at him. She wanted to smile at his wide-eyed wonder, but she could not, so she simply nodded.
Six pairs of de Burgh eyes looked upon her with a stunned admiration that would once have been the height of her existence.
Now, their respect was bittersweet because of the cost. “I had to,” she said.
“He was taken three days ago, and Walter said that Fitzhugh would have at him. They will try to break him, I know it.”
Simon leaped to his feet. “Then let us go! By faith, this Fitzhugh will know the might of Campion! Why do we dally?”
“Hold, Simon,” Geoffrey warned. “If we march on Wessex, the man could kill Dunstan, or we might end up in a long siege, destroying our brother’s castle in the process.”
“Geoffrey is right,” Reynold said, and Marion paused a minute to marvel at the sight of two brothers in accord.
“Mayhap he could ransom Dunstan,” Robin said, his normally light tone startling in his seriousness.
Marion spoke up. “No. According to Dunstan, Fitzhugh has coveted Wessex for a long time, and he will be satisfied with nothing else. He wants Dunstan dead.”
“Perhaps if we took just a few men and tried to find a way in,” Geoffrey said. The brothers were all quiet, pondering that suggestion, until the youngest of them spoke.
“I know a way in,” Nicholas piped up. “Dunstan showed me once. There is a passage.”
Eight pairs of eyes met in stunned silence.
“Let us all go,” said Robin.
“Aye!” They spoke as one, the de Burghs, for once, all in agreement. Marion shuddered in relief.
“Simon, you shall lead,” Campion said. “But I wish you to heed Geoffrey’s opinions.
Take a small force with you, little enough to escape attention, but strong enough to retake the castle.
Unfortunately, we know not what the situation is inside.
Nicholas must go to point out the passage. The rest of you make your own choice.”
Hearing each brother voice his assent, Marion nearly wept. They would all go to Dunstan’s aid, just as she had known they would, and she fought the urge to hug each one of them gratefully. But what of herself? “I would go, too,” she said softly.
“You!” snapped Simon, in a growl so reminiscent of his elder brother that Marion nearly smiled.
“You shall stay here where you are safe,” Geoffrey said.
“This is not woman’s work,” argued Robin.
“Hmm.” Everyone quieted at the sound of Campion’s low murmur, and they all turned to look him as he rubbed his chin and regarded Marion thoughtfully. “Perhaps there is something Marion has neglected to tell us.”