A Knight for Love (22 page)

However, she said none of those things.
She didn’t want him to think she had capitulated that easily after his recent indifference to her.

Warin
nodded in agreement. “Alyna, I promised to find you in Caperun Keep sooner rather than later. If things go well, by tomorrow evening we shall be within its walls. I would see you sitting at the high table as lady of the castle.”
And lying in my bed, arms spread wide in welcome, your face lit with anticipation,
he thought.

He turned her hand over and, as he had the day of their wedding, pressed a kiss on her palm, this time folding her fingers over it to keep it there. She blushed at his attention and opened her mouth to speak.

Warin stopped her, holding a finger to her lips. “Come,” he murmured. “We should return to our camp. Bennet waits, he was anxious that you had slipped by him.”

She nodded, turned and began to retrace her steps, still clasping her fingers tightly over Warin’s gossamer kiss as if it were a butterfly that would fly free if it could.

Warin noted the clasped fingers as he follo
wed Alyna back to the camp. The little gesture, silly and endearing at the same time, filled him with pleasure.

He thought about the conversation that had just passed. Fool, he thought, regretting the impulsive question that had passed his lips but once spoken, it couldn
’t be taken back. Why should it matter to him what she thought of their marriage? Their fate together had been sealed on the whim of a king and neither her protests nor his could alter what happened.

Somehow he couldn
’t shake the feeling that he had gotten the better end of the bargain.

I will
please Alyna and earn her respect.

Nay, he
vowed, not her respect, her love.

I want Alyna’s love. I want the love union of my mother and father and a blessed home filled with that love.

There he had said it.

That was what he wanted more than anything.
Could he have it?

Chapter Fifteen

Men’s desire for war, Alyna decided,
proved to be a tangible thing.

Permeating the chill morning air, it was there as Alyna pulled back the flap of the tent to begin her day. It was there in the purposeful faces around her. It was there in Warin’s mood, in the grim lines rimm
ing his eyes and mouth.

It had been there always, since the siege began, but this morning with the assault to begin anew, it had grown in intensity, becoming a crouched beast ready to leap on its prey.

She stopped in the doorway, letting the flap fall behind her but keeping her eyes on Warin and the men awaiting orders gathered about him. She strained her ears to hear his words.

“Robert, Theobald, take the lead positions
,” Warin instructed. “Gerard, choose four of your best men to flank either side of the ram. Choose another two, the stoutest two, for the rear. The rest can follow in behind with shields upraised.”

“Aye.” Gerard agreed. “The rear guard is
needed for when the gates are breached. Those men can quickly enter the bailey and take up the fight there.”

“Lady Alyna?” Bennet’s voice interrupted her attention.

“Aye?” She swung about to face him.

“Lord Warin has instructed me to keep you safe in the camp, far from the
attack.”

“Of course,” she nodded. Sensing the siege was about to reach a new level, she was more than content to stay close to the clearing that served as living area.

She managed to maneuver her stump about so she could sit and watch the activities. Eyes glued to Warin, she barely managed a nod of thanks to Bennet as he handed her the usual bowl of steaming oats. This time, however, a chunk of honeycomb crowned the porridge.

At her questioning look, he
winked and said, “There are friends about that wish to see you well fed. And,” he waggled a finger at her, “their identity is my secret, not yours.”

“Very well, Bennet. Then convey my appreciation to those
who wish to see me well.” She smiled and began to eat.

The food took her attention for a while but in too short of time she turned her regard back to the battering ram being slowly maneuvered along the road le
ading to the front gates.

The ram itself was a tree trunk denuded of most of its branches
, laid in a cross bed of ropes hanging from a framework such that it swung forward and back. Hides had been stretched over this so that the men plying the ram would have some protection. The few remaining branches served as handles and by the time Alyna finished her meal the unwieldy object had been moved almost to the gate.

As they covered the last few feet, the arrows began to fly. Scant moments later came the first cry of pain and the first casualty, Robert.

He walked in, cradling an arm sporting a feathered shaft through the biceps.

Alyna stood and pointed to her stump. “Sit,” she commanded. “I will fetch needle and thread. And Bennet?” She turned and gestured to an empty pail. “Fill that with water and hang it over the flames to warm it.”

She ducked into the tent, grabbing some of the mint leaves
she had gathered that were drying on the end of a branch propped against the wall. Then she grabbed the needle and thread and the pile of linen strips she had readied. As she turned about, her eyes fell on the last bit of soap. She hesitated for an instant and then regretfully snatched it up.

Fie
, she scolded herself, for the thought of losing the precious chunk was a sad one.
Others need it more than you. When we enter the keep, there shall be more.

She returned to find Robert propped forward on his injured arm, elbow to knee, free hand gripping his upper arm just below the arrow. He looked up at her as she approach
ed and forced a wry smile to his lips. “I have the honor of the first strike,” he said, “although it’s not one I hold gladly.”

Alyna smiled back and, trying to quell her stomach, took a firm grip of the shaft.

“I am sorry,” she said gently to Robert, “this will not be pleasant.”

Robert grimaced, pressing his lips together. “
It’s not your fault, do as you must.” His tanned face held a resigned expression.

She yanked, hard, fast. The arrow slid out, blood covered, taking several small pieces of muscle with it. Immediately the blood began to flow but she stanched it with a cloth.

“It must be washed,” she advised him, “and then I will stitch it. Are you fine?”

At his nod, she began to bathe the wound, dabbing at the edges where the blood had already begun to dry. It was nothing serious, a flesh wound, but it needed attention nonetheless. Carefully holding the edges of broken skin together, she stitched as neatly and quickly as she could, tying off the ends and biting the thread off with her teeth.

“Bennet?” She looked around for assistance.

“Aye, my lady?”

“Fetch the ale, please.” She turned back to Robert and placed a few sprigs of mint against the newly stitched wound. “Hold this,” she instructed, “the linen must bind these to the arm to be effective.”

Robert nodded and gingerly h
eld the herb in place with two fingers. By the time Alyna had finished binding the wound, Bennet had returned with a cup full to the brim of foamy brew.

“Drink
.” She took the cup from Bennet and passed it over to Robert.

He did so, wiping his mouth with the other arm when finished. Alyna noted with some amusement he didn
’t relinquish his hold on the half-filled cup, keeping it secure in a white knuckled fist.

No sooner had she finished with Robert than
Fordwin limped towards her, hose bloodied and torn.

“Rock,” he croaked. “I was too busy watching for arrows and didn
’t see the catapult.”

“Catapult? Are they that many that they can attack on two counts?” She had been so busy with Robert she hadn
’t heard the shouts and pounding but she could hear them now.

And underlying all
, the steady thud thud thud of the ram being applied to the gates. The battle had reached a higher level, no longer a game of cat and mouse but full pitched battle.

A full pitched battle where men could be, would be hurt, killed even. A shiver ran up her spine.

An image of Warin crossed before her eyes, body lying broken and bloodied on the ground. Nay, she shook her head hastily, tossing away the disturbing thought. She craned her head trying to find him, to assure herself that he yet stood tall and strong, but she couldn’t see him.

“Lady Alyna?”
Fordwin’s kind voice reminded her where she was.

She turned back and began to work on his shin, tearing the fabric away
to wash and dress the wound. The nasty scrape didn’t require stitches and soon she finished the task.

Horror filled her when she saw him
get up and walk back towards the battlefield.

“You
return to the fight? Aren’t you hurt?”

“Nay.”
Fordwin grinned at her obvious consternation. “See?” He took a step to demonstrate. “Your touch is so deft and the binding so secure that the leg bothers me naught. I am a knight and must do what a knight does. And that is,” he bowed in her direction, “fight. I beg your leave, my lady.”

She watched him walk away until he disappeared up the road. He limped so the leg pain
ed him but she admired his dedication and tenacity.

The sun finally crested the treetops and its rays slanted across the clearing, falling warm against her cheek. A squirrel chattered angrily at her from the edge of the clearing as if it blam
ed her for the ruckus.

“I care naught for it either,” she retorted, then smiled at the foolishness of holding conversation with a squirrel.

“Alyna?”

“Aye?”
She whirled about, flustered that Bennet had caught her in discussion with the little creature.

Excitement laced Bennet’s face. “The ram is almost through!”

Crack! No sooner had he spoken than the squealing splintering of solid wood rolled through the woods.

Bennet and Alyna
stared at each other. Comprehension dawned immediately – the gates had been breached. They hurried out of the camp to see, Alyna first, holding her skirts so as not to stumble, Bennet behind, excited but cautious as always. He pulled her back as they tumbled to a stop at the forest’s edge, at the spot where the road broke free of the woods and meandered upwards to the castle. Shouts rang through the air.

“We are through!”

“To battle! To battle!”

“Aye, the gate is down!”

Alyna glimpsed Warin, sword in air, leaping through the opening, surrounded by the stalwarts bring up the rear. The ram, now unmanned, sat askew in the middle of the wreckage, still swinging slightly in its rope bed.

The shouts and cries diminished as the men surged through the broken gate and disappeared behind the stone walls. Bennet and Alyna looked at each other, smiles wreathing their faces.

“The siege is over. Caperun Keep is breached!” Alyna exclaimed.

“Naught is certain,” Bennet cautioned. “There could still be much fighting.”

“Nay, Bennet. I feel in my bones that Caperun Keep is ours again.”

Without thought, “ours” had slipped across her lips. She had still to step across the threshold as wife of Warin yet she already considered Caperun Keep to be the home of her and Warin. And Bennet of course, if he chose to stay.

Her smile lingered as she turned and walked back to check on Fordwin. Tonight she, Warin, and the men would be well and safely ensconced within the keep.

*****

The stillness of the castle disturbed Warin.

It
was quiet. Too quiet.

All had escaped, apparently through the postern gate. Only a few defenders had been left to divert the attackers while the rest disappeared into the night previous.

And even those few had been able to beat a hasty retreat during the scant moments it took to actually batter through the gate, for he had not thought to guard the rear of the castle. Nay, he had thought of it but dismissed it due to lack of manpower.

He should be happy no more warfare would be needed, but he wasn’t. The defenders had fled rather than fight. That meant only one thing – they would return to fight another day.
Mayhap his decision not to guard the postern had not been a wise one but he couldn’t change that now.

“Our foe is gone.” Gerard stood beside him. “But they could come back to rekindle the fight.”

“My thoughts exactly, Gerard,” Warin growled. “But it will not happen tonight or even tomorrow or next week. We have time to mend the entrance for if they decide to return, they must arm and fortify themselves first. We have time, Gerard.”