CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Two months later
August had burst upon the north of England in a riot of wildflowers. Everything that could possibly bloom was blooming because it had been very wet a few weeks earlier in the season and now it was sunny and warm. At Kirklinton Castle, it was now a game to coerce Saer into allowing his older daughters out of the castle long enough to collect a wagonload of flowers. He didn’t like the girls out and exposed so much but he couldn’t resist their begging, so he usually ended up escorting them to the meadows where the blooms were calling their names.
In spite of the glorious weather, Abechail’s health had been in rapid decline the past few months but more succinctly in the last few weeks. She was confined to bed mostly now because she was too weak to go about her daily routine as she usually had. Rosalund had the servants move her bed near the windows so she could at least look outside and she spent most of her time feeling the warm caress of a breeze on her face and watching the birds ride the drafts. Still, no one spoke of her illness or her impending death. Rosalund wouldn’t allow it and no one else was willing to face it, so Abechail fell into steady decline as the world went on around her.
Still, there was some joy in the de Lara household now that Cathlina had returned. She had come home about a month earlier, escorted by the Earl of Carlisle’s men, rosy and beautiful and happy. She also happened to be Lady de Reyne and pregnant, although she hadn’t figured it out yet until her mother had informed her what the symptoms her body was displaying meant.
Then, no one could be angry at her for running off and marrying Mathias and Saer certainly couldn’t be upset with Mathias considering where the man was and what he was doing. The escort from Carlisle Castle had been sure to tell Saer that Mathias was now fighting in Scotland for Henry de Beaumont. Moreover, Mathias was to be the father of his grandson. Odd how old angers and prejudices towards Mortimer’s former attack dog suddenly dissolved with a child on the way and the fact that he was now evidently a restored knight.
Therefore, now in mid-August, things were nearly normal again. Roxane and Cathlina argued from time to time, Saer spent a good deal of his time on patrol of Carlisle lands with the earl in Scotland, and Abechail and Rosalund spent most of their waking hours together. Life was good for the most part, and it was typical, and no one tried to think on the horrors hanging over their head. For now, they pretended it was all happy because it was easier to cope that way.
The third week in August dawned warm and pleasant, as most of the days of the month had been. Cathlina rose before Roxane, as was usual, and called for warmed rosewater to bathe in. Surprisingly, she was feeling very well in early pregnancy with none of the illness that she’d heard tale about. Her belly was taut and slightly rounded, but that was the only sign that she was pregnant other than her womanly cycles had ceased. Daily she dreamed about telling Mathias of his son and wondering if his excitement would match her own. Hourly, she thought of him and of his trials in Scotland, praying he was well. She had become very pious over the past few weeks, praying daily at Kirklinton’s small chapel for Mathias’ safety and Abechail’s health.
After she bathed, she donned a soft yellow surcoat and shift, of lightweight linen in the warmer temperatures, and braided her long hair in two pretty braids to keep her heavy hair off her neck. Then she scurried next door to Abechail’s chamber and crawled onto the bed with her younger sister, who was just starting to awaken. Abechail giggled sleepily when Cathlina lay down beside her and gently tickled.
“Awaken, Abbie,” she said, kissing her sister’s cheek. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Abechail was as pale as death but smiled at her sister. “The same,” she said. “How is the baby? I cannot wait to see him.”
Cathlina fought back the gut-wrenching sadness of Abechail’s future, instead choosing to indulge the girl. There was no use in doing otherwise. If she was to dream, make them great and pleasant dreams.
“You will have to wait until spring to see him,” she said. “What do you suppose his name shall be? It should be something grand.”
“What would Mathias name him?”
Cathlina shrugged. “We have never spoken of children. I do not know.”
Abechail sighed faintly, her gaze inevitably moving to the lancet window near her head where she could see the brilliant blue sky beyond.
“A grand name would be an ancient and powerful name,” she said. “Do you see the birds outside? There is a family of hawks in the stones near the gatehouse and I have given them all great names.”
“What are their names?”
“Magnus, Maximus, Tiberius, and Lucius,” she said. “I have named them after Romans.”
Cathlina grinned. “Where have you heard such names?”
Abechail looked at her, a twinkle in her eye. “The same place you have,” she said. “Father has told me stories of the Romans who used to live here. He said there was a Roman fort not far from here and Magnus, Maximus, Tiberius, and Lucius were the soldiers there who held off an entire clan of Scots one day. They were very brave.”
Cathlina laughed softly. “I think that Father mayhap made the story up.”
“It is a true story!”
Cathlina hugged her. “As you say, little pigeon,” she said affectionately. “Now, then, do you feel like going outside today? Roxane and I found an entire field of bluebells nearby. You would love to see them.”
Abechail’s weary eyes lit up. “I would,” she agreed. “Do you think we can go this morning?”
Cathlina nodded and climbed out of the bed. “I will go speak to Father now. I will return shortly.”
Abechail had a bit of pink color in her cheeks at the excitement of going outside this day. Cathlina quickly left the chamber, nearly running her mother down in the landing outside the door. Rosalund had Abechail’s morning meal in her hands and only by swift action managed to keep it steady when Cathlina crashed into her.
“Heavens, Cathlina,” Rosalund exclaimed. “Slow down, child. You must take care of that babe you are carrying and tripping down the stairs in your haste will see him come to great harm.”
Cathlina kissed her mother on the cheek. “I will not trip down the stairs,” she assured her. “Abbie says she feels well enough to ride out today. May we go?”
Rosalund looked dubious. “I am not sure,” she replied. “Let us see how she feels after her meal. Sometimes she sleeps the rest of the morning after she eats.”
Cathlina knew that but she struggled not to let the mood dampen. “Very well,” she said. “But I will go to the stables and have the carriage prepared anyway. Surely a small trip will do her some good.”
Her mother didn’t reply as she continued to Abechail’s chamber, mostly because she would not comment on her daughter’s impending fate and they all knew it. Replies were not expected. Cathlina therefore continued to the lower level of Kirklinton’s keep and out into the mild summer day.
As she crossed the bailey and stopped to pet a friendly dog that usually hung around the great hall, she noticed that the portcullis was lifted and her father was speaking with several soldiers. She also happened to notice that they were bearing Carlisle colors. Curious, she headed towards the gatehouse. Perhaps it was news from Scotland and she was eager to hear it.
Saer saw her approaching from the corner of his eye, her yellow surcoat billowing in the breeze. He turned his attention to her even though the Carlisle soldiers were still speaking. When she finally came upon them, he held up a hand to silence the soldiers.
“Cathlina,” he said. “I am glad you are here. It seems that we have news from de Beaumont’s wars.”
“Truly?” she was very excited to know. “What is it?”
Saer motioned at the sergeant from Carlisle. “This is my daughter, Lady de Reyne,” he told him. “You will tell her what you just told me.”
The sergeant bowed towards Cathlina. “My lady,” he said. “I bring news of a great victory in Scotland at Dupplin Moor. Henry de Beaumont and his English allies have triumphed over a great Scots army. Edward Balliol is now upon the throne. We are told that your husband was instrumental in planning and executing a battle against a greater Scots force. He was victorious, my lady. Balliol owes his crown to him.”
Cathlina was stunned but in the same breath, she felt nothing but pride and joy at that moment. She thought her heart my actually burst with it all.
“Is he well?” she asked eagerly. “What of the Earl of Carlisle and his other knights? Are they all well?”
The sergeant nodded. “We are told they all survived except for Sir Justus de Reyne,” he said. “The man had been wounded in a previous battle and succumbed to his injuries.”
The smile vanished from Cathlina’s face. “He… he is dead?”
“Aye, my lady,” the man replied. “His body was sent back to Carlisle along with the announcement of victory. Lady de Lara said we should come immediately to inform you.”
Cathlina stared at the man a moment longer before glancing to her father. Then she turned away.
“Poor Justus,” she said sadly, struggling not to burst into tears. “Mathias must be shattered. Oh, my poor love.”
Saer watched his daughter as she wrestled with her grief. He did not know Justus de Reyne but she obviously did and was saddened. He turned back to the sergeant.
“You were also telling me about Carlisle’s concerns for our safety,” he said. “You will continue.”
The sergeant nodded swiftly. “Lord de Lara states that the defeated Scots have fled south and there is rumor that the Earl of Mar intends to attack Carlisle holdings in revenge for Carlisle’s participation in the battle,” he said. “If they do decide to attack, the earl and his army will not make it back in time to fend them off. You are to secure Kirklinton until the earl returns from Scotland and the threat can be more readily assessed. He fears the Scots will try to attack before he can reach home.”
Saer could see all aspects of that potentially devastating information. If the Scots reached Carlisle or Kirklinton before Tate returned with the majority of his army, the results would be horrific.
“Is the threat credible?” he asked the man.
The sergeant was serious. “We were told that when the battle for the throne was over, the armies of the defeated scattered,” he said. “De Lara fears they have scattered south and are heading our way.”
Saer pondered that information carefully. “If that is true, then I think mayhap we should vacate Kirklinton altogether and ride for Carlisle Castle,” he said. “Kirklinton is a smaller outpost and cannot withstand a massive Scots offensive.”
“It would not be wise to leave now, my lord.”
“Why not?”
The sergeant shook his head to emphasize his point. “You must not risk transporting your family over miles of open road,” he said. “We have no idea where the Scots army is. They could be upon us tomorrow for all we know. You would be safer to stay here and reinforce your lines.”
By this time, Cathlina had turned around and was looking at her father with some fear. He caught her expression, immediately thinking of the grandchild she carried. Nay, he could not risk her. He could not risk any of them. His instincts told him to get to Carlisle Castle for safety but he wouldn’t go with his instincts. He would remain at Kirklinton because he couldn’t chance getting caught on the open road. Resigned, he was reluctant to agree.
“Then I shall do that,” he said. “Who is in charge at Carlisle?”
“Sir Kenneth St. Héver has come home with Justus de Reyne’s body. He is in charge of Carlisle’s defenses until the earl returns.”
St. Héver was a superb military commander. Saer knew that from his days fighting with the young king. Nodding curtly, he waved the sergeant on.
“Tell St. Héver we shall hold tight here,” he said. “I will await word from Carlisle when the threat has passed.”
The sergeant saluted smartly and turned on his heel, taking the other Carlisle soldiers with him. As he went, Cathlina went to stand next to her father, watching the party from Carlisle mount their horses and depart. She lifted a hand, shading her eyes from the sun as she watched them fade in the distance. Once they were gone, she looked up at her father.
“Are you concerned?” she asked him.
He was but he didn’t want to tell her that. It would only upset her. Forcing a smile, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her squeeze.
“Nay,” he said, brushing off the suggestion. “The Scots always bypass Kirklinton in favor of attacking the larger target of Carlisle. But just to be safe, we will lock ourselves up tightly until the earl tells us the threat has passed.”
Cathlina began a slow trek back across the bailey, thinking of Justus and feeling very saddened by his death. The sergeant said that he had succumbed to a wound from a previous battle. It must have been the axe wound to the chest. Perhaps it had become infected. Whatever the case, his body had given out and now he was dead. Her heart truly ached for the old man she had become so fond of. She was sure Mathias and Sebastian were deeply grieved.
As she thought on Justus, she could hear her father in the gatehouse, shouting orders to the soldiers to secure everything tightly. So much for her journey with Abechail to see the flowers. She had a feeling it would be a very long time before they were allowed out of the castle. But her husband was alive and well, and that was all she truly cared about. She was deeply grateful.
The keep loomed before her and as she headed into the big stone structure, she thought of all of the things she could do for the day to keep busy. She was looking forward to some pleasant time with her sisters and mother as she awaited Mathias’ return. They had sewing and other things to occupy their time. Aye, it would be time well spent.
She had no idea that in a very short while, boredom would be the least of her worries.