Lord of the Blade (26 page)

The raven called anxiously from across the
room, and Corbett jumped up and joined the bird at the window.
Something was wrong and his raven tried to warn him. He frantically
searched the courtyard below with his eyes, and then he saw what
excited the raven so. Boltoff marched toward the great hall as if
he owned the place. His long, ermine cape billowed in the breeze
behind him. Rock was at his heels, following as faithful as a puppy
at its master's feet.

"My sentiments exactly," he told the raven.
"Why don't you keep an eye on those two until I get there?" The
raven swooped from the window and Corbett’s attention was taken by
a knock at the solar door.

He crossed the room quickly, and flung open
the door expecting to see a page. Instead, Lord Cedric, the baron's
brother from Cornwall, was standing there with a smile.

"Sorry to have disturbed you," commented
Cedric, eyeing Devon upon the bed. "Perhaps I should come back at a
more convenient time?"

"Nay." Corbett closed the door enough to
ensure Devon privacy. He watched Devon scoot off the bed and go to
the window.

Cedric smiled a wide smile. "I understand,”
he spoke in a low tone. “I have often taken a woman quickly for my
own needs too. Once, I didn't even get around to removing the veil
from her face."

Corbett felt very uncomfortable with this
conversation, would it to end. “Was there something you wanted?" he
asked impatiently, hoping not to sound disrespectful.

"I intercepted a page on his way to tell
you, your presence is requested in the armory. Delwynn insisted on
shining your armor. He would present it to you one last time before
he is dubbed a knight.”

"Aye, then. Is the priest ready to begin the
ceremony?"

"Yes."

"Is Kenric there too?"

"As Malcomn's sponsor, I am taking the
baron's place for now," answered Cedric proudly. "However, he will
join us for the dubbing later on."

"Let's go," exclaimed Corbett heading out
the door, then stopped as he remembered Devon was still within his
chamber. "I have instructed Heartha that you are to help in the
kitchen with preparing this enormous meal for our guests this
morning,” he told her. “I am sorry, but I cannot spare a single
servant. You can join the festivities later."

"Of course," replied Devon dryly.

"Neither can I spare another guard at the
door." He'd already dismissed the door guard earlier, having
planned to take Devon to the kitchen himself until he heard the
church bells ringing, signaling the beginning of the mass.

"We'd better hurry," remarked Cedric. "Mass
is starting."

Corbett looked to Devon. "Can I trust you’ll
go to the kitchen and not try to escape?"

"What do you think?" she rallied.

"That’s what I feared," he replied. Looking
toward the great hall, he spied his new squire as of that day,
Leighton, and flagged him down. "I would instruct Leighton to
escort you to the kitchen."

Devon hurried to the door and saw Corbett
and Cedric with their backs toward her talking with Leighton a
little ways down the corridor. Leighton was too short to see over
their huge bodies and wouldn't spot her if she slipped away now in
the opposite direction. She managed to slip through the shadows and
bolt down a darkened corridor unnoticed.

Making her way through another corridor that
was barely used, she stopped and leaned against the cold, stone
wall, clutching her arms around her body. Tears formed in her eyes
as she realized Corbett didn't really love her as she hoped he
would. And if this were true, then there was no future for them,
just as he’d told her. The cold-hearted warrior had barred the
gentle, loving man inside once again and there was nothing she
could do to change him.

She pulled her amulet from her pocket and
held it up to her face. She talked to it like an old friend. Like
the way Corbett talked to his bird.

"What good did you do me after all? Mayhap
you are as feckless as the raven."

Hearing voices down the corridor, Devon
quickly replaced her amulet and looked for a place to hide. To her
dismay, she realized she was in one of the turrets with no way out
but up the stairs. Without hesitation, she climbed the steep,
winding staircase until she was halted by a large, dusty door. Her
fate had led her to the door of the sorcerer’s chamber, and she
knew she had to enter. Removing the wooden plank that barred it,
she silently slipped inside and closed the door.

Scanning the darkened room, she found
herself mesmerized by the sorcerer’s quarters. Stuffed owls,
squirrels, and ferrets stood watching her through empty holes where
their eyes had once been. Dust and cobwebs covered practically
every object in the room. It was dank and musty from the lack of
fresh air. Jars lined a shelf with strange-looking innards of
animals and other indefinable objects. A bookcase held several
large leather-bound volumes which Devon guessed were probably full
of spells, and bewitching sorcery tricks. A large, round table with
a lonely chair sat dead center in the room. Several hump backed
chests lined the walls, leading to a large canopied bed encircled
by velvet curtains. The latch on the door behind her suddenly
moved. Devon's heart skipped a beat as she watched, knowing someone
was about to discover her where she really did not belong.

Chapter
19

"You fool! You forgot to bar the door again.
If someone notices, they will know this room has been entered."
Gilda hurried into the darkened room.

"I did bar the door, Dextra, like I always
do." Thorpe shuffled into the room after her.

"Quit calling me Dextra."

"Sorry, sis. When I'm nervous I tend to
forget."

"After eight and ten years I'd think you'd
get used to our new identities."

"I can never get used to pretending we're
someone we're not. We don't really deserve this."

"Well, it's not like Gilda of Gloucester is
going to miss her title. She's dead, we're not. My life began when
hers ended.”

“Yes,” said Thorpe. “And I am only glad you
no longer need to sell your body to feed us. I want to kill Lord
Cedric every time I look at him, knowing what you had to do.”

"Hush up," commanded the baroness. "I don't
like him any better than you, but you can at least show some
respect for the father of my son."

"Well, I find it hard to give Malcomn any
respect," complained Thorpe. "After all, if it weren't for him, we
would all be basking in wealth, land and riches by now."

"It’s because of him, that we will! He has
now come of age. Once I dispose of Kenric, he’ll inherit
everything, and we’ll take control just as planned. God knows it’s
about time. I am tired of waiting.”

"And what of our fearless leader? He has
bided his time waiting for the last eight and ten years as
well.”

"Leave him to me," reassured the baroness.
"With the way I've falsified Kenric's ledgers and tally sheets, our
leader has been enjoying himself for years.

"But if the baron’s true heir is found,
Malcomn will have naught, and neither will we. I think we should
maintain our original plan. Sharing the wealth isn't as bad as
losing it all."

"Well, if you'd done your job and found and
killed his heir by now, we wouldn't have to worry."

"Mayhap he’s already dead.”

"He’s alive," she challenged him, “I can
feel it. Now we need to look for the amulet."

"What does it matter?" asked Thorpe. "You
told me yourself, you changed Orrick into something by reciting one
of his own spells. What was it again?"

"I don't know!" snapped the baroness. "How
many times do I have to tell you? The candle was knocked over after
I recited the curse. The room was dark and I tripped and hit my
head. When I woke up 'twas morning, and the sorcerer was nowhere to
be found."

"Let’s see,” said Thorpe, counting off on
his fingers. “No sorcerer, no heir, no amulet. What does it really
matter?”

"Where are your brains?" she shrieked. "That
amulet was not only to protect the baron's child, but if placed in
his sword, my spell against Orrick will be broken. It is a very
powerful piece with magic that could destroy us."

Thorpe scratched behind his ear and yawned,
only infuriating her more.

“There’s no more time for this now,” she
said. “I must get to mass before I arouse suspicion.”

Devon pushed the bed curtains open as soon
as she was sure the baroness and her guard were gone. She gripped
her amulet tightly in her hand, thanking it silently she hadn’t
been discovered. She couldn’t believe what she’d just overheard.
Evil deception darkened Blake Castle and only she were privy to the
secret. She had to tell someone. She had to get help. She ran to
the door, but stopped suddenly when she saw the latch moving
again.

Two loud trumpets rang forth through the
courtyard to announce the beginning of the ceremony. Morning mass
was completed, and hoards of people crowded into the bailey. Nobles
strutted around, flipping a copper or two to the many beggars who
followed at their feet. The lords and ladies were decked out in
their finest apparel, bright colors with jewels and ermine that
only added to the loudness of the courtyard.

Jugglers and acrobats performed for the
amused women who huddled together laughing at the jester, making a
fool of himself as he bowed at their feet while balancing an egg in
the folds of his hat. Musicians added to the confusion with the
loud echo from the beating rhythm of a naker, accompanied by bells,
tambourines and bagpipes. A lame man sat in a shadows, rotating the
wheel of a hurdy-gurdy, gently pressing the buttons to bring forth
a lively tune.

"What do you mean, she was not in the
solar?" Corbett shouted above the noise to his new squire,
Leighton, as he hurriedly pushed through the crowd, making his way
to the exercise grounds where the dubbing of the knights was about
to begin.

"Just what I said, m'lord," answered
Leighton. "I entered the solar right away to escort her to the
kitchen, but the room was empty."

"Damn!" shouted Corbett over the noise. "If
you are to be my new squire, I expect you to be able to carry out a
simple task."

"I am sorry I failed you, m'lord. Maybe I do
not deserve to be a squire after all."

Corbett stopped and put his hand upon the
shoulder of the lean boy. The lad's blue eyes showed sincerity as
the sun lit up his golden hair like a halo around his head. He had
to remember, this boy had not the proper training of squire. Only
yesterday he’d been naught but a page.

"You are doing a fine job, Leighton."
Corbett forced a smile. This boy was not Delwynn whom he had
trained to his liking, but with much work, he hoped he would some
day serve his needs. "I tend to forget that the girl whom you seek
is anything but simple.”

The boy's face brightened and his posture
straightened at this remark.

"Now,” asked Corbett, “did you check with
Heartha in the kitchen to see if Devon was already there?"

"I did, m'lord. The old woman said she had
not seen her since she was sent to the monastery. She seemed very
concerned, but was of little help."

"Damnation, I haven't time for this."
Corbett continued on his way to the platform. "She knew it and I'm
sure that is why she chose this time to escape."

"Shall I continue to look for her,
m'lord?"

"Aye, Leighton, but in these crowds ’twould
be easier to find spittle among the rushes.”

As Corbett climbed the steps to the
platform, Malcomn and Delwynn awaited patiently at the bottom,
their sponsors eagerly standing at their sides. He strode over the
fine Saracen carpets that covered the raised wooden floor and took
his place next to Kenric, with Ruford and Father Chapman on the
other side. Had King Edward not taken ill, he would be there as
well.

The Bishop of Dorset graced the crowd with
his presence as he sat in the middle of the platform on Corbett's
dais chair. Once again, the trumpets sounded. The bishop stepped
forward to motion for silence, while he spoke of what was expected
of the knights to be dubbed and what their obligations were to the
church, the people and the land.

"Is something wrong?" Kenric whispered to
Corbett from the side of his mouth. "Is it Boltoff? Has he or his
men given you any trouble?"

Corbett thought Kenric was accepting
everything with the best of spirits. He’d been disheartened when
Corbett had returned from his journey to tell him he’d found no man
bearing the mark of the dagger. He’d been furious when Corbett told
him of his visit to Deofol and the mercenaries and ample supplies
he’d found, and the fact that Boltoff couldn’t be trusted. But he
was smiling now.

"Nay," commented Corbett. "Boltoff has been
no trouble as of yet. Would I could say the same for the girl.”

"You speak of Devon, don’t you?"

Corbett was happy to see the baron’s memory
returning. He no longer called her Yetta.

"She has escaped again," Corbett continued.
"Most likely to avoid her trial.”

"Trial?" Kenric was taken aback. "Surely,
you know as well as I that girl did not try to kill me. Perhaps
'tis Gilda you should be reprimanding, as she is the one more
capable of a devious mind."

“It is my duty, and she will go to
trial.”

“As is your duty to marry nobility, but I’ve
yet to hear you’ve chosen a wife.”

“I don’t want any of them,” he said.

“But you do want Devon, don’t you?”

“Nay!” Corbett tried to deny the truth, but
his foster parent knew him better than himself. “She is naught but
a servant.”

The two men watched Ruford and Father
Chapman hold forth the swords of the knights-to-be, one at a time
as the bishop blessed them. Next, a wild-looking Scotsman with long
blond hair, who Corbett knew was somehow Delwynn's cousin, stepped
forward to gird on the boy's sheath for his sword. Cedric stepped
forward to do the same for Malcomn.