Chapter Twelve #3
Stephen grinned reluctantly. “My humor is intact but not when it comes to my wife’s health.”
“Health?” he repeated. “What is wrong with her? She looks well enough.”
Stephen shook his head. “She has been running a slight fever since she was wounded. I cannot seem to rid her of it.”
Tate nodded in understanding. “Whatever is causing it, I am sure you will cure her,” he said, eyeing him as he moved on to a more important subject. “Perhaps seeing her son might improve her health.”
Stephen’s dark eyebrows rose with realization, surprise. “So you have the boy?”
Tate nodded. “Cade Alexander is in the gatehouse warming himself by the fire,” he said. “He is a well behaved, thoughtful boy and Buccleuch was reluctant to let him go. But after I explained the circumstances, of which he was unaware, he released him.”
“Have you spoken to the lad at all?”
“A little. Enough to know that he likes dogs, enjoys war playing, and has your wife’s blue eyes. He is a handsome boy.”
“Did you tell him why he is coming to Berwick?”
Tate shook his head. “I am going to leave that up to you.”
Stephen nodded, digesting the information.
In truth, now that the boy had arrived, he was not quite sure how he was going to feel towards the child given the fact that he was a product of an extremely harrowing act against the woman he loved.
On the other hand, the boy was a part of Joselyn.
For that fact alone, he would treat him as a son.
But there were a few things unsaid between him and de Lara.
He cleared his throat softly, crossing his enormous arms and looking rather uncomfortable.
“Just so you are aware,” he said quietly, “because of Jo-Jo’s injury and subsequent illness, I never told her that you went to retrieve the boy.”
It was Tate’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “She does not know?”
“Nay.”
“And you let me leave to retrieve the child without telling me?” There was disapproval in Tate’s voice. “I told you that she should be the one to make the final decision. Perhaps she does not want the boy here, reminding her of a most heinous and violent crime against her.”
Stephen put up his hands in supplication.
“I told you that she has been too ill to discuss it. I will tell her tonight, this moment, in fact. But I told you before, I strongly believe that her maternal instincts will erase any fear or horror she might feel. He is her son, Tate. She will want him with her.”
Tate just growled and shook his head. He made a move towards the food-laden table, but not before he jabbed a finger at Stephen.
“Tell her now,” he rumbled. “And when I am finished eating, I am returning to Forestburn and my own wife who, by the way, is probably already on her way here to drag me home by the ear. And if she is, I will expect you to defend me since the only reason I am still here is because you sent me on a fool’s errand. ”
He was speaking angrily, although it was without force. He was exhausted more than anything else and Stephen knew it. But he had a point. He followed Tate to the table, watching the man grab a massive hunk of herbed bread and tear into it.
“I need to speak to you about your return to Forestburn, in fact,” he said quietly.
Tate just rolled his eyes. “Leave me in peace, Pembury. For a few bloody minutes, just leave me in peace and let me eat.”
Stephen fought off a grin, watching Tate try to ignore him. “I have another favor to ask of you.”
“I am going to take my sword and drive it into your gut if you do not leave me alone.”
“Wait until you hear me out before drawing your sword, please.”
“Good God,” Tate snarled. “What is it, then, and be quick about it.”
Stephen didn’t say anything for a moment. He stood there, trying to force the words out, but it was an extremely difficult struggle. He didn’t want to say them. But he knew he had to.
“I want you to take Joselyn with you when you leave,” he said quietly. “I want her out of Berwick.”
Tate stopped chewing and looked at him. “Why?”
Stephen inhaled slowly, wearily. “Because Ken seems to think that the Scots are building up to a major attack. He interrogated Joselyn’s cousin earlier today and based on the man’s information, Ken feels that the lack of recent activity means the Scots are preparing for something big.
If that is true, then I do not want Joselyn within these walls. I want her safe.”
Tate swallowed the bite in his mouth. “And what do you feel, as the Guardian Protector?”
Stephen lifted an eyebrow, slowly. “I cannot say that I am in complete agreement, but the lack of activity, any at all, is troubling.”
“Ken has never been an alarmist.”
“I know. That is why I am taking his advice regardless of how I feel. Perhaps he is sensing something I am not.”
Tate took another bite of bread. “If that is true, then I should not leave. I should remain here with you.”
Stephen shook his head. “We are expecting reinforcements from Henry of Lancaster any day now,” he countered. “It is not necessary for you to stay.”
Tate fell silent as he swallowed his bread and delved into a big beef knuckle. “You know,” he said casually, “it has been a long time since you and Ken and I have fought side by side. I am not sure I want to miss that.”
“If you do not take Joselyn to Forestburn, then Ken has already said that he will. I have a feeling Toby would rather see you than Ken.”
“Toby will eat Ken alive if he shows his face instead of me.”
“So you will take her when you go?”
Tate sighed faintly, some of the fight gone out of him. He resumed chewing, more slowly. “What will you do about the boy?”
“Send him with her. They can take the time to get acquainted.”
De Lara scratched his head with exhaustion, digesting both his meal and the information the night had brought. “Will you tell him of his parentage before I leave?”
“When will you leave?”
He shrugged and wiped at his mouth. “More than likely on the morrow. If you are comfortable with what troops you have here, there is no reason for me to stay any longer.”
“Good,” Stephen agreed. “The sooner you remove Joselyn from this place, the better I will feel.”
With nothing more to say, Stephen left Tate devouring half a cow while he left the warm, stale great hall for the cool evening outside.
Dogs barked in the distance and sentries with torches lit up the battlements.
Stephen surveyed the bailey as he passed through en route to the keep, half-expecting to see his wife somewhere in the confines.
He would not have been surprised to see that she had convinced St. Héver to disobey a command.
But there was no wife lurking in the shadows of the bailey so he entered the keep, mounting the stairs just as Kenneth was descending.
They nearly crashed into each other and Stephen had to back down to the bottom to allow Kenneth to descend.
The big blond knight was moving faster than usual.
“What is wrong with you?” Stephen demanded. “You move as if the Devil is on your heels.”
“The devil is,” he lifted a white eyebrow, moving for the entry. “Your wife was attempting to coerce me into taking her fawn out for a night stroll. She said if I did not do it, she would be forced to take it. I had to run away lest she snare me for the task.”
Stephen snorted. “Coward.”
Kenneth was out the door, walking backwards as he jabbed a finger at Stephen. “The woman is bewitching, Pembury. She looks at you with her pale blue eyes and it is impossible to deny her.”
Stephen shook his head with a grin on his face. “You are telling me something I already know.” He lifted his voice as Kenneth moved further away. “De Lara leaves on the morrow for Forestburn. He is taking Joselyn with him.”
“Good!” Kenneth shouted from mid-way across the bailey.
Stephen’s grin was still on his lips when he reached his chamber and opened the door. Joselyn was sitting on the bed, removing her shoes, her head snapping up when Stephen entered. She smiled, mostly because she was glad to see him but also because he was still grinning. She cocked her head.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
He rubbed his chin wearily, yawning with the sudden heat of the room. “Because you have scared Kenneth away,” he told her, putting out a hand to stop her as she went to set her shoe on the bed. “Wait a moment. I have a need to speak with you before you undress for bed.”
She was interested and curious. “Of course. What about?”
Stephen’s smile faded as he gazed down at her, wondering for the first time how she was going to receive the news of her son being within the walls of Berwick.
He had meant well when he had sent Tate to retrieve the boy, but now he wondered if he had done the right thing.
He was suddenly uncertain. He moved to one of the two large chairs that flanked the table in the room and lowered himself down.
Stephen sat forward with a deep sigh, leaning his elbows against his knees and letting his hands hang. It was clear that he was pensive as he focused on Joselyn, meeting her inquisitive expression.
“Jo-Jo, you know that I love you and there is nothing on this earth that I would not do for you,” he began quietly. “I have done something… questionable. I hope you will forgive me.”
She shook her head faintly, having no idea what he was talking about. “I would forgive you anything, my angel. What is it?”
He smiled faintly in response before his smile faded away. “I have a confession that must not leave these walls.”
She grew very serious. “I would never betray you.”
“I know that. But you must understand that what I did, I did for you.”
“What did you do?”
He inhaled deeply again as if gathering courage. “The soldier that raped you,” he began quietly, so quietly that it was nearly a whisper. “I killed him.”
Joselyn’s eyes widened. “You… you killed him?”
He nodded slowly. “During the siege those weeks ago when I came to you demanding the truth of what your father had done to you. Do you recall that day?”
She nodded, suddenly looking as if she was about to cry. “I do.”