Chapter Eight #4
Stephen fell silent, digesting what she had told him.
Five hundred men. Since the rebels had been quite aggressive since Berwick surrendered to the English, it was possible that Kynan’s men were involved.
But MacKenzie had not confessed to that, not even when Stephen had threatened to take his insubordination out on Joselyn.
In fact, Kynan hadn’t been particularly helpful with anything.
Either the man was particularly clever or he truly didn’t know anything, which Stephen found difficult to believe.
“Do you think he has been leading the rebel attacks?” Joselyn’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked down at her. “It is possible that he has some responsibility for them. But he was bottled up in the vault during the siege yesterday and therefore had no direct involvement in that particular incident.”
Joselyn’s brow furrowed as they made their way to the northeast turret.
Stephen could see Ian in the distance, standing tall and lanky near the dark tower, and he was distracted.
But Joselyn’s thoughts were still on her cousin, down in the depths of Berwick’s vault.
Kynan was no fool. He was a seasoned soldier.
Her father had told her that the man was quite cunning.
“Have you asked him what he knows?” she asked.
Stephen’s focus shifted off of Ian and back to Kynan as he thought of the two days of interrogation and the sparse information it had brought forth in spite of their best tactics.
“Aye.”
“Has he told you anything useful?”
“I would not worry about that if I were you.”
It was his way of telling her that it was none of her affair. She had figured that out quickly. But she persisted.
“Would you like me to find out if he knows anything more?” she asked, so soft he barely heard her.
He came to a halt and peered at her as if she had lost her mind. “What?” It was all he could think to say.
She faced him with waning confidence. The look in his eye was not one of agreement. “I asked if you would like for me to find out,” she offered again. “He might tell me things he would not tell you.”
Stephen stared at her a moment before his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Jo-Jo, although I appreciate your offer, my answer is a resounding nay,” he told her, almost sternly. “I would not be so unscrupulous as to use my own wife for subversive means.”
Her mouth twisted with the rejection, thinking on how to explain what it was she was suggesting.
“I know you would not,” she said quickly.
“You are a wise and moral man. But if there is a chance my cousin will confide in me what he knows about the rebel activities, then will you not at least consider it?”
“No,” he said flatly, noticing that Ian had seen him in the distance and lifted an arm to him. “Come along, I still have rounds to make.”
“Stephen, wait,” she grabbed hold of his arm and dug her heels in.
“I am not trying to anger you, truly, but please consider what I am saying. If there is a chance I can get information for you that will save lives, I am willing to do that. Berwick cannot take another siege. She is already shattered.”
He came to a halt but his jaw was ticking faintly as he looked at her. “Sweetheart, I appreciate your offer. I sincerely do. But I will not involve you in things that do not concern you.”
“Do not concern me?” she repeated, incensed.
“Of course they concern me. Every time you lift your sword for a battle, it concerns me. Every time an innocent person dies as the result of men who do not know when they are defeated, it concerns me. Many men died as a result of this latest siege. If I can help you prevent another occurrence, you should at least let me try.”
“Is this what you meant by offering to help?”
Her lovely brow scrunched up and she half shrugged, half nodded. “Aye, I suppose it was. I have been offering to help you since practically the hour we were married. This is something I believe I can truly help you with. I know Kynan will talk to me.”
He grunted and turned away from her, unwilling to agree with her. But Joselyn remained fixed in place as he walked away, feeling her anguish rise, unable to fathom why he was being so stubborn.
“Do you not understand, husband?” she called after him. “It is your life I am trying to save.”
Her words were nearly shouted. Stephen came to an unsteady halt, sighed heavily, and turned around to face her.
She was about twenty feet away, standing there with tears in her eyes.
He could see them. With another sigh, this one of regret, he retraced his steps, watching her wipe away the errant tears before he came too close.
He was staunchly, absolutely against what she was suggesting.
He did not want her involved in the dirty dealings of war and politics.
But her offer was both noble and brave. It impressed him.
By the time he reached her, he couldn’t think of anything else to do but reach out and pull her against him.
She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly.
“Jo-Jo,” he muttered into the top of her head, kissing it.
“Sweetheart, you are very courageous and selfless to make such an offer. I understand you are trying to help. But I would keep you as far away from war and politics as I can. I do not want you involved in such things. Do you not understand that I am trying to protect you?”
She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes watery. “And do you not understand that I am fearful that the next raid might bring about your death? You are the Guardian Protector of Berwick, Stephen. It would be a great victory for the Scots to kill you and I simply cannot stomach the thought.”
He smiled gently at her. “They are not going to kill me.”
She shook her head and shoved her face into his chest. “You cannot know that. You cannot know the errant arrow or hidden dagger that would claim your life.”
He held her close. “That is true,” he agreed softly. “But I have managed to stay alive for thirty-seven years and have become quite good at it.”
She didn’t like his attempt at humor. “All my life,” she murmured against his tunic.
“All my life I have been haunted with sorrow and bad fortune. I never even imagined I would ever marry much less marry a man who has accepted me as I am. I know happiness now that I never dreamed possible.” She lifted her head to look at him.
“If I lost you there would be nothing left to live for. I would throw myself from the battlements and never doubt for a moment that it was the right thing to do. I could not live without you by my side.”
The smile had faded from his face as he gazed deep into her pure blue eyes. He gently cupped her face in his enormous hands, studying her, feeling her passion and sincerity that touched him deeply.
“You would do me a greater honor by continuing to live your life in dignity and wisdom,” he replied. “For everyone to see that Pembury’s wife was a lady of strength and honor would do me the greatest glory. I could ask for no better legacy.”
As he watched, her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. “I would not want to live without you.”
He kissed her nose. “But you would. I would ask this of you as a fitting tribute to our love.”
“Will you please let me help you?”
“I am deeply appreciative of your offer but again I must decline.”
She began to cry softly and he rocked her gently, cradling her against him.
The sun was almost completely down and the city below was alive with cooking fires.
He let his gaze settle on the city a moment as he held his wife, immersing himself in her warmth and softness.
She was such a sweet, delightful creature and he was very sorry she was upset.
But he would not, under any circumstances, grant her request, as difficult as it had been for him to deny her.
Soft footsteps came from behind him and he turned slightly to see Ian standing there, uncertain. The young knight cleared his throat softly.
“My lord,” he said timidly, eyeing Lady Pembury buried in her husband’s arms. “The posts have reported in. Will you hear the information?”
Stephen nodded, preparing to gently release his wife when she suddenly pulled free, turning her back on the men so she could compose herself.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I shall wait here for you and enjoy the views of the city.”
Stephen’s gaze lingered on her. “I will be a brief moment.”
She nodded, wiping at her eyes. As she took a few deep breaths for calm and focused on the city below, Stephen and Ian moved several feet away, locked in quiet discussion.
The more they inched away, the more Joselyn inched in the other direction.
She kept turning around to glance at her husband to see if he had noticed.
He was quite a distance away, listening seriously to Ian’s report.
When he turned his back on her completely, Joselyn silently made her way back towards the gatehouse.
It did not matter if he had denied her or not. She knew she had to do as she must.
She knew where the vault was.