Chapter Three #3
They reached the landing. “She will,” Stephen said, knocking softly on the chamber door. After several long seconds and no answer, he knocked again. Still no answer, he opened the door.
The room was empty.
*
The day was sultry and sticky. The moisture rising up from the river was as thick as a fog, cloaking everything around it.
In spite of Stephen’s previous order to stay to her chamber, Joselyn had found her way from the castle and down to the river, thinking of the family she had lost. She felt so very alone.
She needed time to clear her head, far from castles and knights and visions of blood.
Reaching the damp, sticky grass that grew in tall clumps around the river’s edge, she found a sandy bar near the water and plopped down on it, her mind a jumble of grief and fear.
Clad in the lovely cranberry surcoat, she gathered her legs up against her chest, lowered her face onto her knees, and wept.
So much of her life had been out of her control.
The day she went to Carlisle with her father was the worst day of her life; it had changed everything.
Her father had been ashamed of what had happened but her mother, a sweet simpleton, had coddled and supported her.
Even when they realized the soldier’s seed had taken root, her mother continued to protect her fiercely.
It was her father who had insisted on keeping her hidden as her stomach grew large and round, hidden from family and friends alike.
Her father had told everyone that she was visiting relatives in Aberdeen when she was really locked up in her bower of Allanton Castle.
The shame that had been instilled in her during that time still clung to this day.
Everyone but her mother was ashamed of her.
Now the only person who had never harshly judged her was gone and she wept painfully for the woman whose mind left her years ago.
Joselyn wept for that sweet woman of memories gone by, of brothers she had once loved, and for a life that she would never know again.
All of the tragic events from the past few months had overwhelmed her and she felt like she was living another life, one she did not recognize or like. It was like hell.
Something shuffled off to her right and she looked up to see a doe and fawn, a few feet away, drinking from the river’s edge.
The doe seemed to be singed from a fire but otherwise seemed well.
Joselyn’s weeping faded as she watched the two of them drink.
When the fawn looked in her direction, she slowly lifted her hand to it, clucking softly.
The doe seemed startled but didn’t bolt; the fawn was genuinely curious.
Slowly, the little creature came up to her and sniffed her fingers. She was able to tickle its nose.
Enchanted, she forgot her tears for the moment as the little fawn nibbled on her fingers.
She giggled at the baby with no teeth trying to nibble on her.
The mother seemed more interested in eating the fat summer grass around the river while the fawn drew closer to Joselyn.
It was enough of a distraction to cause her to forget her appalling grief.
For the moment, she was thrilled with the fawn.
It allowed her to scratch its neck as it came closer, interested in what she might have to eat.
The little animal sniffed her surcoat and bit at the material, tugging at it and trying to eat it.
Joselyn gently pulled the fabric out of the little mouth and tried to interest it in some soft, moist grass.
It was a sweet, peaceful moment, one she desperately needed.
But it was not meant to last. Suddenly, the doe hit the water with a resounding splash.
Startled, Joselyn looked up to see an arrow sticking out of its neck.
With a scream, she grabbed the fawn and dove for the ground, terrified that more arrows would come flying out at them.
She could hear men yelling and a great deal of rustling about as bodies jumped into the heavy grass.
As she cautiously sat up with the fawn in her arms, she could see a dozen or so English soldiers bearing down on the doe they had just killed.
The fawn bleated and a few of the men looked over at her. Joselyn watched with mounting fear as two of them made their way over to her.
“What are you doing here, woman?” one man demanded.
She was both frightened and angered. “You killed that doe. She has a baby!”
The man lifted a callous eyebrow at her. “The baby will be tasty as well.” He tried to take it from her but she screamed and finally kicked him. He slapped her soundly.
“Enough,” he snarled, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her with him. “I shall eat both you and the fawn.”
Joselyn was terrified. She fought and kicked as the fawn bleated in terror. They hadn’t made it twenty feet when the soldier’s commanding officer, having heard the commotion, came upon them.
“You, there,” he shouted at the soldier as he strolled down from a berm overlooking the river. “What are you doing with that woman?”
The soldier smiled lasciviously. “I found her by the river,” he announced. “After I eat the doe, I plan to have her for dessert.”
The commanding officer looked closely at Joselyn and gradually, his features paled. Shoving the man in the chest to push him away, he grabbed Joselyn at the same time. The soldier lost his grip and stumbled back.
“What did you do that for?” he demanded.
The officer was focused on Joselyn. “My lady,” he sounded strained. “Does your husband know you are out here?”
“Husband?” the soldier repeated loudly. “What husband?
The commanding officer looked at the man as if he were an idiot. “Pembury,” he said, looking back at the lady. “May I escort you to your husband, Lady Pembury?”
Joselyn was clutching the fawn with a death grip. She eyed the soldier and his commanding officer. “Aye,” she said hesitantly.
The commanding officer looked rather ill as he took her elbow and helped her up the slope. “Are you well, my lady?” he asked. “You are not injured in any way, are you?”
“Nay.”
“Be careful of this hill. It is very slippery.”
He couldn’t seem to do enough to help her.
The soldier who had slapped her was still standing where they had left him, his face deathly pale and knowing he was a dead man if he remained at Berwick.
Pembury would undoubtedly take issue with the fact that he had slapped his wife.
As the luscious little lady and his commanding officer crested the hill and headed for the castle, the soldier took off in the opposite direction.
The commanding officer kept a good grip on her as they made their way to the postern gate of Berwick.
It was the same gate Joselyn had used when she had headed for the river.
As soon as they entered the gate, they could see that the entire castle was in an uproar.
Soldiers were mobilizing into blocks and sergeants were screaming at them.
Knights on chargers were forming loose ranks and she could hear shouting from the walls.
Frightened, she clutched the fawn more tightly against her.
“What is happening?” she asked the commander.
The man studied the activity. “I do not know, my lady,” he replied. “It would seem that there is trouble somewhere.”
She looked up at the man. He was a seasoned man, older, with bushy blond eyebrows. He seemed to have an even manner about him and she felt comfortable with him. In any case, she was thankful he had saved her from the lewd soldier.
“Are you a knight?”
He shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he replied. “I command a battalion of the Earl of Norfolk’s soldiers.”
“How did you know that my husband is Stephen of Pembury?”
“Because I was in the hall last night with my liege when your marriage was announced. I saw your marriage and I saw what happened afterwards. A true horror, my lady; you have my sympathies.”
She was not sure what to say to that so she lowered her head and clutched the fawn to her breast. The commander, however, kept talking.
“De Lara was merciful in ending your mother’s suffering,” he went on.
“Later in the night when my men had watch of the northern wall, I saw Pembury personally building what looked to be a crate. I was told it was your mother’s coffin.
’Tis a good man that would take the trouble to build a coffin himself, but I am sure you already know that. ”
By the time he was finished, Joselyn was looking at him intently. “He built a coffin for my mother?”
The commander nodded, looking strangely at her and realizing that she probably did not know, in fact, what Pembury had done by the expression on her face. And with that knowledge, he shut his mouth lest he say something else she did not know about. But Joselyn was not finished with him.
“You said de Lara was merciful to end my mother’s suffering,” she said, coming to a halt and facing him. “What did he do?”
The commander sighed heavily and shook his head. “I… I am sorry, my lady. I did not know that you were unaware of….”
“What did he do?” she cut him off.
The commander prayed that Pembury would not take his head off. He knew there was no way to avoid her. Those pale blue eyes were boring into him and he braced himself for perhaps the stupidest thing he had ever done. He told her.
“Your mother was in flames, lady,” he lowered his voice. “There was no hope. De Lara put a broadsword through her chest and ended her suffering immediately. It was the merciful thing do to.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t fall into fits. She simply stood there, staring at him with those piercing blue eyes as if absorbing every word individually. When she spoke, however, her lower lip trembled.
“What else did you see?” she asked in a whisper.