Chapter Nine #3
Joselyn was smart enough to wait until the changing of the guards to make her move and slip through the postern gate leading to the river.
Wrapped in the dark tartan, the guards never saw her in the shadows under the silver moon.
Like a night wraith, she slipped along the wall and into the river, making her way down the river in shoulder-deep water until coming ashore about a half mile downriver.
Wet and cold, she persevered on towards the main road leading out of town.
*
The fawn was fat, warm and happy in the corner of the kitchen where Mereld and Tilda had been feeding the little thing.
It bleated at him and attempted to suckle his fingers when he tried to pet it.
Leaving his wife’s very spoiled pet to its happy corner, Stephen made his way across the darkened bailey towards the gatehouse, the massive structure lit by torches against the night sky.
As Stephen drew close, he came across de Lara emerging from the warm and stuffy great hall.
Stephen came to a halt as Tate caught up to him.
“So,” Stephen said with a twinkle in his eye. “Have you recovered from your brush with death?”
Tate grinned wearily. “Damnable Scots,” he grumbled. “It simply underscores my need to return home.”
Stephen grunted. “When are you leaving?”
“At dawn,” Tate replied. “But I am not heading straight home. I intend to take a detour to the Earl of Buccleuch.”
Stephen sobered. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Will you escort the lad back to Berwick?”
“I thought I would.”
“Will your wife wait that much longer for you to return home?”
Tate made a pensive and apprehensive face, as men do who fear the reaction of a woman. “She will have to. A few more days will not make much difference in the end.”
“Perhaps,” Stephen lifted an eyebrow. “But if she turns her anger on me since this is an errand on my behalf, know that I intend to point all necessary fingers back at you. I do not want to suffer the wrath of Lady de Lara.”
Tate shook his head. “Coward,” he muttered, scratching his chin as he sobered. “About the boy, how much do you want me to tell him?”
Stephen shrugged faintly. “I am not entirely sure,” he said. “You have four young boys. I would solicit your advice on the subject.”
Tate exhaled wearily, gazing up at the stars. “I can tell him the purpose of returning to Berwick to soften the blow,” he looked at Stephen. “Or I can simply wait and let you tell him. You will be the boy’s father, after all. It might be best coming from you.”
“But he will have more time to understand and accept the situation if you tell him,” Stephen countered thoughtfully, crossing his big arms and kicking at the dirt beneath is feet. “Perhaps Joselyn should tell him. She is his mother, after all.”
“That is more than likely the best option.”
“Agreed.”
Before Tate could continue the conversation, Lane appeared out of the darkness. Stephen did not like the look on the man’s face as he approached.
“What is it?” he asked before Lane could speak.
Lane didn’t look particularly eager to tell him but knew there was little choice.
“I was seeing to the changing of the guard about the hall, keep and bailey,” he explained quickly.
“With the guard changing in the keep, I happened to see one of your wife’s women as she was leaving your chamber.
When I asked if her mistress was settled for the night, the woman faltered.
There was something in her expression, my lord, that made me suspect all was not as it should be. So I….”
Stephen’s jaw flexed dangerously and he was already moving towards the keep. “To the point, de Norville.”
Lane and Tate began to run after him. “Your wife is not in her room, my lord,” Lane almost shouted at him and Stephen came to an abrupt halt.
His blue eyes blazed at the sergeant, who continued rapidly and succinctly.
“I have already sent men to get horses. We sighted your wife from the postern gate about a quarter of a mile downriver.”
“What?” Stephen exploded, incredulous. “Are you sure?”
“Aye, my lord,” Lane replied, feeling as if he had grossly failed in his newly appointed post. “The old serving woman confirmed as much.”
“Damnation,” Stephen spat in an uncharacteristic display of emotion as he whirled for the stables. “Did you ask the woman where my wife was going?”
“Nay,” Lane replied quickly as they rounded the corner of the hall and headed to the stables that smelled strongly of hay and dung. “I thought it more important to find you and tell you that your wife has left the castle. There will be time enough for interrogation when we recover her.”
By the time they reached the stables, several soldiers were already emerging with their mounts. Two grooms were saddling the chargers and in little time, Stephen was mounted and with a contingent of a dozen armed men, they roared from the open gates of Berwick and out into the deepening night.
Stephen couldn’t even imagine where Joselyn was going.
He struggled to stay on an even keel because something deep inside him couldn’t fathom the worst. He felt sick to his stomach as her last words to him suddenly made some sense.
Everything I do, I do because I love you and would do anything to ensure we have a long and happy life together.
He couldn’t imagine what the foolish woman was up to.
He had to find her.