Chapter 39

 

Jarin struggled against the rope binding his hands in front of him as the knights led him from the dungeon, up a winding stairway, and then out a door into the back courtyard of Luxley Castle. A faint glow lit the horizon, streaking the sky in colors so vibrant, Jarin could not imagine executing anyone with such a glorious dawn as backdrop.

But off to hang him they were.

In good sooth, with ten well-armed knights as escort! Just for little ol’ him. He smiled. No doubt Sir Walter had heard of Jarin’s skill with a blade, for in truth, with freed hands and a good sword, he could defeat these men. Especially now with God on his side.

A God…the God… he supposed he was to meet soon enough. Yet he bore no fear, held no doubt that he would be welcomed. Not for his many good deeds, for he knew he’d be found lacking in that area. But simply because Jarin had finally committed his trust to the One who had paid the price for all his errors, his wrongs…his sins. Would that he had more time to honor his new Lord by serving Him here on earth, but that, too, was not in Jarin’s hands. In truth, during the long night, he’d discovered that naught had ever really been in Jarin’s control. Naught save his free will, which he’d used to choose poorly.

Not anymore.

He smiled at the knight escorting him on his left, and confusion crossed the man’s eyes ere he offered a scowl in return.

“Lovely day for a hanging,” Jarin said.

“Shut your mouth!” a knight walking in front of him shouted over his shoulder as they exited a back gate and began the descent down a hill behind the castle.

No doubt Sir Walter wished to hang Jarin in private and not in the village as was the custom, for many of the villagers would recognize him as a friend of Alexia. ’Twas for the best. Jarin had no desire to have an audience for so demeaning a death.

They wove through a small copse of trees, and Jarin peered around branches and leaves, searching for his friends. Surely they had heard of his imprisonment by now. Or mayhap not. He had no idea whether Ronar, Damien, and Alexia still lived in Emerald Forest, or if they were able to obtain any information of the happenings at Luxley.

Dawn’s light angled through the trees above, shifting light and dark over Jarin as the scent of pine and moss, and the sweat of the knights mingled beneath his nose. He slowed, wanting to savor his last moments alive, to remember the beautiful sights and rich smells of this place.

The knight behind him shoved him forward.

He stumbled into a clearing. A gallows stood in the center. A hooded man dressed in black stood waiting at the top.

Jarin’s heartbeat thumped in his ears. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. Time seemed to slow.

The call of a heron sounded. Odd.

He glanced around. Something shimmered beyond the trees.

Whoosh! Whisk!

The knight beside Jarin toppled to the ground. An arrow protruded from his leg. Before the man could even cry out, another arrow split the morning air and took down a knight in front of Jarin.

“Run for cover!” one of the knights shouted and the men dove back into the trees.

Jarin dropped beside the first fallen knight and reached for the knife stuffed in his belt.

A war cry that could only come from Damien echoed through the clearing. One of the knights grabbed Jarin by the arm and jerked him away.

But not before he grabbed the blade.

The chime of a sword being drawn forced the knight around, and he released Jarin. Blades met high, glinting in rays of the morning sun. ’Twas Ronar! His friend fought with the knight, striking blow after blow, first high, then low, then to the side, sending the knight spinning. Finally Ronar struck the man’s head with the hilt of his blade, dropping him to the ground.

Jarin sliced through his ropes just in time to look up and catch a sword Ronar tossed his way. Gripping the hilt, he grinned. “Your timing is impeccable, my friend, though a little sooner would have been appreciated.”

“We like to make an entrance,” Ronar returned between heavy breaths, both their gazes drawn to the clearing where Damien fought off three more knights. No time to help him as four more warriors rushed toward them.

Jarin whirled just in time to dip his sword in defense against one of two knights charging him from behind.

Ronar thrust his blade toward another knight on his left, slicing his leg, then pulled out his stiletto and flung it at the other. It embedded in the man’s chest, expertly positioned between two plates of armor. The man howled and stumbled backward ere rushing back toward the castle.

“Pity. I liked that stiletto,” Ronar commented as he took on the remaining knight.

Jarin whirled his sword aloft then cleaved the blade downward in a hissing sound that ended with a mighty clang as it met the knight’s sword. The other knight charged from Jarin’s left, but Jarin ducked, sending the man tumbling into a tree trunk.

An arrow whizzed past them and pierced the man’s shoulder, pinning him to the tree.

The other knight swooped down upon Jarin, but with a snap of his blade, he flipped the man’s sword from his grip and flung it into the trees, then held the tip to the man’s neck.

“Are you quite finished, or do you wish to play some more?” Jarin asked.

The knight, a young man with barely a whisker on his chin, glanced over Jarin’s shoulder at Ronar, who was no doubt quickly dispatching the final knight. Turning, he sped off through the trees.

By the time Jarin faced Ronar, the last opponent was lying flat on the ground, blood spilling from his arm.

“My friend!” Jarin gripped Ronar’s shoulders, then pulled him into an embrace. “’Tis good to see you.”

Pulling back, Ronar smiled. “And you! ’Twas unclear you were ever returning to us.”

The ring of blades drew their gazes to Damien. One of his opponents lay unmoving on the ground, but the other two came at him like battering rams.

“Do you think he needs assistance?” Jarin asked.

Stabbing his sword into the ground, Ronar leaned on the hilt. “Nay. No doubt he would resent the intrusion.”

Damien went blade to blade with one of the knights, a man as large as he, whilst the other one plucked out a knife, intending to stab Damien from behind.

Ere he could, two arrows flew through the air, one so fast after the other, it seemed they were fired together. One struck the man’s arm, forcing him to drop the knife, whilst the other struck his thigh.

Damien quickly dispatched his opponent, then wheeled to face the other man, disappointment marring his features when he saw he’d already been defeated.

Lady Alexia D’Clere, dressed in leather vest and breeches, dropped from the trees beyond the clearing and headed their way.

The woman had the strength of a warrior and the beauty of a goddess, and Jarin could see why Ronar was so smitten. In truth, his friend’s eyes never left the lady as she made her way to them.

Damien slipped beside her. “I could have handled the other one as well,” he complained to the lady.

“I have no doubt, Sir Damien,” she responded with a grin. “Alas, time is of the essence. Good to see you, Sir Jarin.”

“And you, my lady.” He gave a bow, but she drew him close and hugged him.

When she released him, Damien gripped his arm. “My friend.”

Jarin nodded toward the large knight, overjoyed to be amongst his companions again.

Ronar handed him a leather strap, two knifes, and a heavy cloak.

“What news of Cristiana?” Jarin slipped the baldric over his head, sheathed his sword, and flung the cloak over his shoulders. The others donned hooded cloaks as well.

“We must make haste.” Swinging her quiver and bow over her shoulder, Alexia pushed past him and rushed toward the castle. “Sir Walter is marrying her at this very moment.”

♥♥♥

Cristiana had no choice. She must marry Sir Walter. For Thebe’s sake. With her eyes never leaving Thebe’s, she addressed the monster beside her. “Give me your troth that the girl can remain here at Luxley under my care.”

His thin lips puckered as he adjusted the ruby brooch at his neck. “You have it. Now, I beseech you to proceed, Your Grace.”

The bishop continued the ceremony, droning on in a rather annoyed tone, but Cristiana wasn’t listening. Smiling, she nodded toward Thebe, hoping the child understood that all would be well.

A sound akin to thunder rumbled across the bailey. The loud crackle of fire met Cristiana’s ears. Screams ensued. Smoke filled the air. Knights drew blades and charged into the middle of the courtyard, ready to meet their enemies.

At least ten massive barrels, set on fire, rolled toward the crowd! Coughing and hacking, hands to their noses, people darted off in every direction. Screams blared. Horses whinnied, chickens squawked.

Grunts, shouts, and the ring of blades added to the cacophony.

More blazing barrels rolled across the bailey.

The bishop ducked into the chapel. Cristiana yanked her hand from Sir Walter’s—who stood in shock—and bolted toward Thebe. Though the smoke was thick, ’twas not hard to find her, for her cries were like a beacon to Cristiana’s heart.

A man grabbed her ere she reached the child.

“Release me at once!” She pounded his chest and kicked and clawed, but he was far too strong.

“Be still, my lady!”

That voice, that sultry, rich voice. She stopped struggling but couldn’t see his face beneath his hood.

A knight came at him from the right. Without releasing her, he pulled a sword from beneath his cloak and pierced the man’s shoulder. Screaming, the assailant stumbled backward.

The clang of more blades echoed in the courtyard. One of the barrels struck the stables, setting it on fire. Soldiers ran to get water. More smoke billowed through the air. Arrows parted the fog and met their mark in flesh. Warriors screamed and toppled to the ground.

Cristiana couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Hastening her forward, the man plucked a crying Thebe from the ground and then darted across the bailey, shoving and pushing through the hysterical crowd and blazing barrels to the entrance of the kitchen.

Inside, he halted. Meat roasted over a fire whilst pots bubbled with stew, but the cooks and maids must have abandoned their posts in fear, for the room was empty. The man removed the hood of his cloak and smiled her way.

Jarin! But of course ’twas Jarin.

“You came for me,” was all she could think to say.

He lifted her hand for a kiss.

“Jarn! Jarn!” Thebe squeezed his neck so tight, he choked.

“’Tis all right now, little one.” He pulled her back. “Come! Make haste!” Without hesitation, he dashed through the kitchen into the pantry and then out into the main hall, pulling Cristiana along beside him. Sweet angels, why were they running back into a castle full of enemies?

After a quick look around, Jarin ducked down a corridor to his left, through a series of storerooms Cristiana knew all too well, and then down another set of stairs into the wine cellar.

They were trapped! Terror begged her to grab Thebe and run back outside—to escape while they could. But an aura of confidence and courage clung to Jarin, as it normally did, and she realized she had come to trust him with her life. The smell of mold, dirt, and fermenting grapes wafted around her as they halted before two large barrels.

Jarin set Thebe down and began shoving aside the barrels when footsteps on the stairs alerted him. Drawing his blade, he whirled about.

But the most beautiful sight Cristiana had ever seen descended those stairs.

Her sister, Alexia.

They couldn’t get to each other fast enough. The smell of her, the feel of her, Cristiana hugged her so tight, she doubted they’d ever be able to part.

“’Tis you! ’Tis really you! Dear sister!” Cristiana sobbed.

Alexia pushed her back, tears in her eyes. “Finally, you are safe, dear one.” Behind her, two men descended.

Sir Ronar and another large knight she remembered as Damien LaRage. He nodded his greeting to her but said naught.

“And, pray, who is this?” Alexia knelt to gaze upon Thebe, then looked up at Cristiana with a wink. “Surely, you haven’t been gone that long.”

Cristiana chuckled as Thebe shyly answered, “I am Thebe.”

“Well, Mistress Thebe.” Alexia smiled. “Welcome to our party.”

The girl giggled as Cristiana looked up and smiled at Ronar. “Sir Ronar. Have you been taking good care of my sister?”

By the way he smiled at Alexia, she had her answer.

Footsteps and shouts thundered above them.

“Alas,” Ronar said, “as sweet as is this reunion, I fear we must be on our way.”

Damien helped Jarin shove the barrels aside and much to Cristiana’s surprise, the entrance to a tunnel appeared. Within minutes, they had crawled through and found themselves several yards from the castle in a patch of thick maples.

Horses awaited. No one spoke a word. After helping Cristiana and Thebe onto the back of a brown palfrey, Jarin leapt behind them. Then grabbing the reins with one hand, he held onto them with the other, and they all took off at a mad gallop.

♥♥♥

“Ahhh, Devil’s blood!” Sir Walter fisted hands to his temples and uttered every curse he knew into the stagnant air of his study.

Bishop Montruse stood calmly before him, eyeing him with the same evil intent he oft saw in Drago’s eyes. “I suppose this means you no longer have the Spear of Destiny?” His tone was caustic.

Sir Walter slammed his fists on his desk, shaking the trinkets, pens, ink, and candles that sat thereon. Including the open box with the key still in the lock.

The empty open box.

“’Twas right here!” He pointed toward the velvet cloth lining the inside of the box. “I checked on it right before the ceremony this morn. ’Twas safely wrapped inside. Then I locked it and hid it behind the loose stone on my wall!” He glared at the bishop. “How would anyone know where it was?” He took up a pace, unwilling to believe this was happening. “Devil’s blood! The box was still locked!”

“Fatuous goosewit!” the bishop said, seething. “Seems you have once again disappointed me. Not only me, but His Majesty, the king.” His placid face became twisted and gnarled. “You should have given it to me the moment you took it from that wench!”

Sir Walter retreated from the man’s fury and wrung his hands together. “I needed you to perform the wedding, regardless of the lady’s hesitancy.”

“And I did.” The bishop adjusted the embroidered sash, then twisted the sapphire ring on his finger.

Sir Walter growled. “Now that Lady Cristiana has her wits about her, ’tis quite possible she could return to Luxley, convince the guards and servants to join her, take power, and cast me from this place.”

The bishop blew out a sigh. “What is that to me?”

The man’s stupidity never failed to astound Sir Walter. He gave a tight smile. “Should she be so bold, Your Grace, you may never retrieve the Spear. Only if she and her friends remain outlaws do we have a chance to find it.”

The bishop stared at him, confused.

Sir Walter repressed a growl of frustration and added, “They will have need of its power to defeat us. Should there be naught to defeat, it will go into hiding.”

The bishop snorted. “Then I shall proclaim her a witch like her sister. Will that satisfy?”

“Aye.” Sir Walter smiled, then whirled, his tunic flowing behind him. “To the devil with those knights!”

“’Twould seem they continue to get the best of you.” The bishop’s nose pinched as if he smelled something foul. “No Spear, no lady. I grow weary of this dung heap of an estate. Someone of my stature should be in the palaces of Regalis, not here in the muck and mire with such vulgar plebeians.”

“Then prithee return home, Your Grace. I will continue my quest here.” Sir Walter would do anything to rid himself of this muck-spout! In truth, if the man lingered further, Sir Walter might have Drago cast a curse on him.

The bishop blew out another snort. “Nay. I’ve had enough of your incompetence. I will send word to the king, requesting more troops. We will find these Knights of the Eternal Realm and their Spear. And when I do, I will burn the lot of them at the stake.”

♥♥♥

Cristiana had never seen the likes of such a magnificent chamber beneath the ground. As all six of them entered with shouts of glee and praises to God, she could only stare in wonder.

“You lived here all those years we were apart?” She glanced at her sister, who was placing her quiver and bow on a table.

“Aye, with the friar.” Alexia gestured toward an older man in a brown robe with a gold crucifix hanging about his neck and a look of enviable peace and love on his face.

“Friar, we have found my sister.” Alexia placed a kiss on his cheek, eliciting a blush.

“As I can see.” He approached Cristiana and took her hands in his. “God’s blessing be upon you, my child.”

“Thank you.” She longed to also thank him for taking such good care of her sister all these years, but Jarin’s laugh brought her around to see him, Thebe in his arms, speaking with Ronar as they put their weapons on the table.

He glanced her way, a look in his eyes that bespoke promise and hope.

“Where’s Seraphina?” Alexia asked.

Damien marched up to join them, glanced around, and then headed down a hallway in the back of the chamber.

Ah, yes. How could Cristiana have forgotten that her good friend was here? Elation soared through her as she waited to see Sera again.

Jarin came to stand by her side, and Thebe reached out her chubby little arms. Taking the babe, Cristiana lowered to sit on the sofa, suddenly feeling weak from all the excitement.

Damien stormed back into the room and approached the friar. “Where is she?”

Friar Josef gave him a kind look. “Gone. Left nigh two hours past.”

“Where?” Damien demanded.

The friar glanced over them all, a slight furrow in his brow the only indication of any angst. “Forgive me, but I fell asleep. I thought…well, here.” He moved to a desk, retrieved a piece of parchment, and handed it to Alexia.

Unfolding it, she began reading it aloud.

“My dearest friends,

I am away to see the king with Sir Walter’s confession. I beseech you, do not be angry with me, nor the friar, for you see the Spear appeared in my hand, along with the sign on my wrist. And I knew ’twas God anointing me with the task of clearing all your names and restoring Luxley Castle to its rightful owners. Hence, I am on that very mission. Prithee, do not search for me. I hope I shall return anon with good news.

Ever your loyal friend, Seraphina DeMowbray.”

Damien growled and fisted his hands.

Cristiana lifted up her sleeve and glanced at her wrist. “She’s right. I no longer have the mark.” She held up her hand, amazed that she had not felt it depart.

Alexia set down the letter and leaned back against the desk. “The Spear has chosen her to be its protector now.”

Damien started for the table. “And I have given myself that task as well.” Retrieving his sword and knives, he shoved them into scabbards around his leather baldric.

Ronar followed his friend. “He’s right. We cannot allow her to travel alone.”

“Finally, a rational voice.” Damien smiled at his friend.

Jarin headed their way. “If you two are going, then I am as well.”

Alexia fisted hands at her hips. “Alas, you all intend to leave us? Break up the Knights of the Eternal Realm? Leave us at the mercy of the bishop and Sir Walter?”

Ronar smiled her way. “When have you ever been at anyone’s mercy, my love?”

Cristiana closed her eyes and hugged Thebe, her emotions torn between longing to protect Seraphina and yet not wanting Jarin to leave. Silently, she prayed for God’s will to be done.

The three knights continued to line their belts with weapons.

“Jarn!” As if sensing he was leaving, Thebe reached out for him, and Cristiana put the child down. The little girl dashed toward Sir Jarin, and he swept her up in his arms.

Alexia smiled at the sight, as did everyone. “We have come to love her as our own,” Cristiana offered, slowly standing.

The friar smiled. “Then she is welcome here in our humble home.”

“Home?” Thebe’s gaze shifted between the friar, Cristiana, and Jarin.

Cristiana made her way to the little girl, still in Jarin’s arms. “Aye, darling. This is your new home.” Though she had no idea whether Jarin would continue to assume the role of father. By the look he was giving the girl, ’twould seem so. Still, he had made no promises to her or to Thebe, and she feared he would break both their hearts.

Finished with arming himself, Damien started for the door.

The friar raised his voice. “Nay, Sir Damien. We must allow her to have her own journey.”

The knight faced them. “Alas, you have said the Spear contains no power in itself.”

“Indeed, ’tis true.” The friar gripped the cross around his neck. “The power is found only in Christ Himself.”

Cristiana glanced at Jarin. “As I have learned as well.”

He gave an understanding smile in return.

“In truth? Then, by your own words, she is putting herself in grave danger.” Armed with more blades than a battalion, Damien opened the door. “Join me or not. I am going to find her.” And out he marched.

Ronar hesitated, exchanging a look with Jarin ere facing Alexia.

“Leave him,” the friar said. “Mayhap ’tis his journey as well.”

“He’s right.” Ronar sighed. “We have work to do here.”

“I do not gainsay it.” Handing Thebe to Cristiana, Jarin returned his weapons to the table. “Damien can handle the protection of one lady.” He turned to face them. “Yet, what shall we do in the meantime?”

“What we have always done.” Alexia took Ronar’s hand in hers. “Show God’s love in the village and God’s power to Sir Walter and his warlock.”

Warlock? Cristiana swallowed a burst of fear. Alas, Cedric had been right. “Mayhap our first task is to convince the guards and servants of my ability to rule. If they side with us, I can assume my proper place as lady of Luxley and send Sir Walter on his way.”

Alexia’s face lit with excitement. “’Tis true! You are not wanted by the law! Why had I not thought of that?”

Ronar nodded. “That only leaves the warlock to be dealt with.”

The friar shrugged. “’Twill be no trouble for God.”

Ronar lifted his blade in the air, and nodded at Jarin, who retrieved his sword and raised it high. “For the glory of God, to the Knights of the Eternal Realm!” Ronar shouted.

Alexia grabbed her bow and handed a knife to Cristiana with a wink.

Thebe in one arm, Cristiana raised the blade in the other as Alexia lifted her bow.

“For the glory of God, to the Knights of the Eternal Realm!” they all shouted.

Thebe giggled and lifted her hand. “Tonight with ternal reem!”

Lowering their weapons, they all laughed.