Chapter Five #5
The man who had caused such pain and suffering was long gone, lost in the chaos of the Earl of Carlisle’s execution those years ago.
At least, that was the rumor. There were darker rumors that he was not the man responsible, that something more horrific bore the truth.
But no one would confirm these darker horrors so the soldier was the accepted father of Joselyn’s child.
To hear that her new husband had sworn to bring the lost soldier to justice after eleven years was a bit of a dream that none of them had the heart to discourage.
Joselyn believed in her new husband; it was good to believe in something.
“I hope so, Jo-Jo,” Mereld regained her stool wearily. “For all of the horror the English have caused, ’twould be good if one of them tried to right the wrongs.”
Joselyn had had enough. Frustrated with the bitter old servant, she quit the chamber that she and Stephen shared and made her way down the narrow stairs and out into the bailey. The day was beginning to wane and she could tell by the sun that there was no more than two hours of daylight left.
Her thoughts drifted to Stephen, of where he might be at this time, before shifting to the meal ahead.
He had told her he would be late so she was in no hurry to begin preparations in earnest. The mutton from the previous night was back on the cooking fire, having been slow-simmering in a mixture of honey and cloves since mid-afternoon.
But there would be bread to bake and sweets to make, and she smiled when she thought of Stephen stuffing himself with more sweet cakes and then blaming her for his gluttony.
He was quite humorous at times and she liked that. She liked him.
As she headed towards the kitchen to not only check on the mutton but on the fawn she had left sleeping in a warm corner, she caught sight of the chapel off to the left.
It was actually the base of one of the towers, a small room with a vault that ran beneath it.
Stephen had told her that her mother was in the vault and she wondered if she should go say a prayer for her mother before the supper hour.
She’d not yet prayed over the woman and she felt some guilt in that, but she knew her mother would have understood.
Joselyn had been quite overwhelmed with the new life she found herself a part of.
Just as she turned away from the sight of the chapel, several foot soldiers entered through the main gate built into the massive gatehouse.
It was a group of men bearing the blue and silver dragon standard of de Lara but she thought nothing of them until her gaze happened to fix on the one that was closest to her.
He was an older man, with a full head of gray hair and an oddly shaped scar on his forehead.
He was close enough that she could see it and when he smiled, he was missing several teeth.
The teeth that remained, however, were a dark shade of brownish-green.
An eerie feeling swept her, growing more powerful by the second.
The man was speaking to his colleagues and she froze in her tracks, listening to the sound of his voice.
Something about it sounded horrifically familiar and she suddenly felt dizzy, her heart pounding loudly in her chest and her breath coming in strangled gasps.
She tracked the man as he moved, like a hunter tracking prey, watching as he and his fellow soldiers headed towards the armory located in the tower near the chapel.
They were laughing about something and had not noticed her.
But the moment she heard the man laugh, the world suddenly began to spin.
She knew that laugh. God help her, she knew it.
It was a laugh from her most horrific nightmare.
A scream escaped her lips but she slapped her hands over her mouth lest he hear her, more terror than she had ever known bolting through her slight body.
She stumbled backwards, kicking up dust onto her new orange silk.
She fell to her knees, hysterical, before scrambling to her feet and taking off at a dead run.
Panicked grunts were escaping from her lips as she ran.
She tore off into the southeast section of the bailey where a narrow tower anchored the wall.
There was no particular reason why she ran in that direction; she was running blindly, without thought.
There were a few soldiers in this area of the bailey but she didn’t notice.
She was running for the tower entrance, a safe haven in which to hide, in her blind determination to put as much distance as she could between her nightmare and safety.
Her mind was a jumble of horror that she could not control.
Just as she reached the tower, a soldier was emerging, having just finished his rotation on the wall.
Joselyn was incoherent with fright. She didn’t even recognize Lane de Norville when he stepped into the dirt of the bailey.
She simply plowed headlong into the man and, overwhelmed with the shock, fainted dead away.
Lane caught her before she could hit the ground.