Chapter Twenty - One #2
Two days later, he still hadn't come up with anything to explain the strange letters.
His frustration grew, and he'd slept little at night when they'd made camp.
It didn't help that when he did finally manage to doze, his dreams had been filled with his pretty wife.
Worry for Gillian mixed with the need to be with her again, to hold her, take her, remind her that she belonged to him.
His possession. He laughed. She possessed him as surely as he did her.
Aware of the men beside him casting sidelong glances, he grinned.
"At least the weather is holding," he said.
"Aye," said Leopold, the knight to his left. "Even the cold has abated."
"A good thing, to my thinking," Royce replied. "We should reach Lyndon day after tomorrow."
"What are the plans for the rebels?"
"I'll speak with Burke when we arrive. If all I've been told is true, the rebels have not dared another attack. The execution may have been enough to crush their uprising. But we still must catch Godwin."
The next days passed quickly, and by the time they neared Lyndon, Royce's bones ached with weariness. Eagerness to see his wife kept him focused as they picked their way through the forest. Once they broke out of the trees, the keep should be in view.
As if sensing Royce's urgency, Viking picked up his step. Soon. The word rang through his thoughts like a mantra, with a rhythm that matched the horse's gait.
"Ho, Panther!"
Royce reined in the stallion, wheeling about to see Burke a short distance away. He guided his horse toward the captain, a broad grin breaking free.
"Burke! 'Tis good to see you!"
"I fear there is trouble," Burke said when Royce reached him.
Worry eradicated his good humor. "What's happened? Your last letter said all was well."
"It was. Until this morn. Godwin has captured your wife."
Rage tinged his vision red, his heart slamming against his chest.
"What? How in all that is holy did you allow this to happen?" His fingers clenched on the reins, and Viking danced nervously. One hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Where has he taken her?"
Burke shrugged; oddly calm considering the news he'd just shared. Alarm prickled along the back of his neck.
"She ventured beyond the gates and the rebels were laying in wait."
That made no sense. Through the fury a strange calm took over. "Why would she be so foolish? Where is Simon?"
"Back at the keep. He is readying additional men."
"'Twould seem I arrived just in time. How long ago was she taken?"
"Not long."
"They couldn't have gotten far. Come, we'll find them. And if I know my wife, she'll likely have torn the bastard to shreds!"
His stomach rolled as he thought of how frightened Gillian must be. While she was as fierce as any knight, being in the hands of a brutal rebel had to be terrifying. He cursed himself for not arriving home sooner.
He searched every tree, every bush for any sign of the rebels or his wife. Nothing. His breath grew short. The need to hit something, someone, to swing out with his sword, nearly overpowering.
"There!" Burke pointed and Royce looked ahead.
Several men gathered in a clearing up ahead. Rebels. Royce let loose his war cry and unsheathed sword. Spurring Viking he raced toward the band. He pulled up short before the lead man. The outlaw, disheveled and dirty, brandished his own sword.
"By order of the king, I place you under arrest."
The man said something in Welsh, and the others laughed. Royce growled. He wanted nothing more than to charge into the band, but not just yet.
"Where is my wife?"
The man continued to speak in Welsh. Royce didn't understand a single word. The man gave a smug grin.
"Godwin!" Royce spat on the ground. "Finally I face you. And I will kill you."
More laughter. Royce turned to Burke. "Charge!"
Why didn't Burke obey? His captain watched him with a strange expression.
"He is not Godwin," Burke said.
"I don't care who he is. I want them all arrested."
Burke moved closer and unsheathed his own sword. "Nay, my lord. They are under my orders. And protection."
Royce blinked. Surely his fury and exhaustion had left him confused. What Burke said made no sense. Unless...
"Explain yourself."
An evil grin curved Burke's mouth. Royce noted the flick of his captain's hand, a moment before several more rebels dropped from the trees.
Two tackled Royce from his saddle, disarming him.
Several blows landed about his head and neck, kicks to his back and gut.
When he broke free and attempted to rise, Burke's sword at his throat halted him.
"You never figured it out." His captain's eyes held a demented glow. "I am Godwin, the rebel leader you seek. I've been right before you all along."
Royce shook his head, ears ringing. Each breath burned through his chest.
"I don't understand." Even speaking hurt and when Burke landed another kick to his stomach, he coughed and retched.
"My mother was Welsh, but you never knew that. And when my father was executed, we returned to her family. My revenge is at hand."
"That was not my doing, nor Edward's."
Burke let loose a maniacal laugh. "His father destroyed me, and now I destroy the sons as well. And when your bastard is born, I will kill it, and then your wife."
Wait, did Burke just tell him Gillian was pregnant? Carried his child? He should be overjoyed, but helpless and caught, he could find no happiness in this news. He looked toward the king's men. They had been stripped of their weapons, their hands bound.
Royce now knew the reasons the letters had seemed odd to him. Before he could start to put all the pieces of truth together, a kick to his head sent him into darkness.
***
His head throbbed, his mouth was dry and as he opened his eyes, he realized one was swollen shut. He lifted his head and tried to rub his face. He could not move.
His arms were chained above his head, his feet barely brushing the floor.
The position left his shoulders and wrists aching from the strain.
He tugged against the restraints, but could not free himself.
Where was he? As his eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings, he realized he stood in what appeared to be a crumbling building.
He searched the chamber for more clues, finding none, but more than ever became convinced he was at Apshire.
It had been years since he'd visited, but through the arrow slits, he could make out the unmistakable octagonal tower that was a symbol of the ruined keep. He wasn't very far from Lyndon.
Gillian. Was she safe? Hurt or... he didn't dare think the worst. Did she know of Burke's duplicity?
Surely she must, for if Burke was truly Godwin, then he was Anne's lover.
No doubt that viper proved dangerous, and if she had dared harm Gillian.
.. He tugged against his bonds again, but he succeeded only in making a racket that slammed into his already aching head.
"The chains are quite strong. They will even hold a Panther."
The familiar voice reached him from across the darkened chamber. Burke. Or rather, Godwin. A surge of rage near gave him the strength to pull the chains right from the stone walls, but he remained captive.
The sound of footsteps grew louder, until finally, Burke stood before him, illuminated in the light streaming through the arrow slits. He met Burke's gaze, stunned by the depth of the hatred in the other man's eyes. Burke watched him closely, as if he contemplated carefully his next words.
"This has not been easy, you know, keeping myself above suspicion all this time," Burke said. "Keeping your wife under suspicion was much easier."
Royce closed his functioning eye and leaned his head back against the wall. Burke tapped his face with his glove, forcing Royce to look at him once more.
"I won't tolerate such disrespect. You are now no more than horse dung and I am the lord here. This is my home, though not for long. Soon, Lyndon and eventually the entire border will be mine. After that, the crown."
"Why?"
"Why?" Burke threw his head back and laughed, a high-pitched maniacal sound. Abruptly, he stopped and looked straight at Royce once more, his lip curled in a sneer. "Because in England, I am nothing. I have nothing and never will."
"Burke, we gave you Apshire. There would have been more eventually."
Burke spat on the ground. "A ruined manor, with few servants to work the land.
It was a meager attempt to assuage Edward's guilt over his father's actions.
I don't want your leftovers. I should have had as much, perhaps more than you.
I fostered with both you and Edward. But no one came to my aid when I was cast from my home, named a criminal. "
"Edward and I welcomed you back, restored you as much as we could."
Burke sneered. "He's the king. He could have returned me to my status, instead of leaving me to depend on your charity for a position in your garrison. Tell me why I should be grateful for that."
"I spoke up for you; you were there when I asked Edward to grant you a title and lands."
Royce's thoughts swam, too many to focus on any clearly. The one thing he did want to know was how he didn't see the signs of Burke's hatred ere now?
"And once he said no, you did nothing more, except hire me as your captain. I was no better than your horse."
Before Royce realized what Burke intended, the blow to his stomach left him breathless. Unable to bend over, defend himself, the next strike left him gasping for air. While he choked and tried to breathe, Burke crossed his arms and watched, obvious delight carved into his features.
"Once I've taken hold of the border, I'll take Edward down. The House of Llewellyn will once more hold the throne, not only of Wales, but of England. Edward wanted unity, and he shall have it."
Another punch to his jaw left Royce dazed, though he struggled to remain conscious. Still one more strike to his cheek shattered the light into blackness.