Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

B ertram de Rosa unleashed hell.

Keller, a man who was not easily impressed with battle tactics, had to admit he was somewhat respectful of not only Bertram's cunning, but of his power. The maid that had come with de Rosa's terms had not exaggerated when she had said the army carried around one thousand fools and men. It had to be at least that, if not more. But Keller was ready for them.

The first phase of the battle had consisted of archers, aimed high at close range so that they sailed up and over the outerwall of Pembroke but had less luck breaching the inner wall because of its distance from the outerwall and the great gatehouse. Because the archers were so close, they were in range of Keller's Welsh archers, the finest bowmen in the world. After Bertram's first volley, Keller let loose with his own barrage that effectively sent Bertram's archers running for cover. But it had been a shrewd move on de Rosa's part, designed to give Keller an overabundance of confidence and invite the hope that he would follow it up with something foolish.

But Keller held his confidence in check as he watched the de Rosa archers scatter; it was tempting to want to chase them, but he suspected a man as experienced as de Rosa would not have made such a foolish mistake. He had been correct; a few moments later, he was glad that he had restrained himself. Parting the trees as they moved towards Pembroke were two massive siege towers being pulled by teams of oxen. Keller had been momentarily surprised; so had his men up on the wall. All eyes were fixed on the siege towers that were as tall as the outerwall, lumbering steadily towards them. Once the shock wore off, Keller snorted. Then he applauded.

But his jovial mood was short lived. He knew they were in for a serious siege. He set his archers on the outer wall battlements, taking aim at the oxen pulling the siege towers. Rather than try to kill the beasts, he ordered his men to take out their legs. It was careful hunting and by the time the siege towers came to within several feet of the moat, more than half of the teams on both towers were crippled and the remaining oxen were panicking.

The de Rosa men cut the injured animals loose and took up the pulling themselves, creating gangs of men that began to inch the towers forward again. Keller and his men watched as the giant towers inched closer; he seriously wondered how they were going to bring the siege engines close enough to the castle walls to breach them. The castle was protected on three sides, leaving the fourth side heavily fortified with ditches and the great gatehouse. If Bertram seriously had it in his mind to penetrate Pembroke, then he had his work cut out for him. Keller was very curious how the man was going to accomplish it.

But he wasn't so fascinated that he wasn't focused on the castle as a whole. He had a heavy concentration of men on the south side of the castle, but he had the west, north and east sides covered as well. He had been fighting against the wily Welsh too long to be fooled into thinking that a frontal assault was all Bertram would attempt. He kept the entire castle under vigilant watch.

As the siege towers drew closer, Keller had lost his curiosity on Bertram's tactics. In a sharp command to his Welsh archers, he had them concentrate on taking out the gang of men now pulling the siege towers. Soon enough, Bertram lost many men to the archers. But there were more to take their place. As many as Keller would order taken out, Bertram was there to replace them.

And so the deadly dance continued.

*

Hold up in her luxurious bower, Derica could hear the shouts and screams from the battle. The noise and stench seemed to waft upon the wind in deadly breezes, filling all of Pembroke with tension and fear. The children played on the floor near the hearth, not entirely oblivious to what was going on but not particularly understanding it, either. Derica was thankful they were too young and too na?ve to understand the severity of the situation.

Sian seemed to be fascinated with the knights on the walls but Derica kept urging him away from the window and back to his toys. He wanted to know why he could not go outside and fight with Sir Keller, something that was rather tricky to explain without insulting his fighting abilities. Derica assured Sian that Sir Keller was quite capable of defending the castle without him and she further explained that Sir Keller had left him with the women to protect them should the castle be breached. That seemed to pacify the little boy, who went back to his cart and horse, wondering aloud if he was going to get to use his sword today.

As the hours dragged on and the day turned into night, Derica became increasingly uneasy. Changing out of the fine surcoat she had worn to greet her father, she put on a simple surcoat with a deep neckline, the color of violets. Pulling her hair into a single braid, she wound it up at the nape of her neck to keep it out of her way, emphasizing her lovely neck and shoulders.

But she wasn't thinking on how lovely she looked as she moved to the lancet window that overlooked the outer bailey; she was thinking of her father and brothers fighting to gain her, and of Keller fighting to protect her. There was increasing guilt over the man who would never receive her love or affection yet was more than willing to sacrifice himself. But she was mostly thinking of Garren. She wondered if Fergus had reached him yet.

The night wore on and so did the battle. Derica had given up trying to sleep as she sat vigilant watch over the slumbering children. The severe women had taken up station in a small servants' alcove that adjoined Derica's chamber, sitting in a frightened huddle, not moving from the stone bench built into the wall. As the battle dragged on and dawn began to approach, Derica found an excuse to leave the children in their care as she left the chamber, taking the stairs quickly to the main level of the keep.

Fortunately, the wooden stairs leading into the keep had not been retracted or burned to prevent the enemy from storming the keep. Gathering her skirts, Derica rushed outside, ignoring the soldiers calling to her. In her deep violet surcoat, her skin was pale and porcelain in the early morning hours as the sun and fog began to blend.

Breath coming in great puffs in the cold dawn, she made her way to the inner gatehouse but the soldiers on the battlements refused to open it for her. They had the inner ward bottled up tightly. Frustrated, she went to mount the stairs to the wall and ran straight into Keller.

He looked weary and stubbled, his dark eyes intense upon her. He grasped her by the elbow.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked. "Is there trouble in the keep?"

Derica shook her head. "Nay," she replied. "Everyone is sleeping. I came to see if my husband has arrived yet."

Keller's gaze moved over her, the way she had her hair pinned back and the gentle slope of her neck and shoulders. She looked exquisite, more exquisite than he had ever seen her. Her words, although reasonable, cut at him; the more time he spent with her, the easier it was to pretend that they would be together when all of this was over. He knew that was not the case but, for the sake of his morale, he did not want to think on it. Her words had rudely reminded him.

"He has not," he replied, trying not to sound bitter. "Return to the keep and rest. I will let you know when Garren arrives."

He was trying to gently push her back towards the keep but she resisted, finally breaking his hold on her elbow.

"I do not want to return to the keep," she said staunchly, cutting him off when he attempted to insist. "Keller, if you were in my position and waiting for the arrival of someone you were told was dead, someone you loved very much, would you be able to remain calm? I cannot rest and I cannot remain calm. I want to be on the walls and wait for Garren."

Keller's sense of hurt was increasing. "You cannot wait upon the walls," he said flatly. "Your father is shooting arrows over the walls and I do not want to take the chance that you will be hit. Go back inside."

He seemed gruff; Derica couldn't really blame him but she didn't want to return to the keep. She reached out and grabbed his hand as he tried to shove her back.

"Please," she begged softly. "Please let me stay out here. Just for a short while. I promise that I will not be any trouble."

His expression grew frustrated. Just as he opened his mouth, a shout came from the western wall. Derica wasn't sure what had been said but Keller suddenly bolted.

Derica ran after him and followed him up the narrow tower stairs, taking two at a time, before emerging onto the narrow wall walk. There were dozens of soldiers and two additional knights, armed to the teeth, all peering down into the river below.

It took several moments before two heads could be made out, swimming the cold river in the early dawn hours towards the castle. Keller hadn't realized that Derica was next to him, heart in her throat as she strained to identify the swimmers. But it didn't take a genius to deduce who would be making their way across the swift, silty river towards the castle; it was the same path Fergus had taken when he had left. It would only make sense that he was retracing his steps.

Before Keller could clearly identify the shapes in the muddy river, he began waving a big gloved hand towards the great gatehouse on the south side of the castle.

"Ready the archers," he boomed. "Start launching everything we have at them. Keep their attention away from this wall."

The two knights and about a dozen soldiers ran to do his bidding as the orders were shouted down the line and across the castle. In short time, the archers were launching great flaming long arrows over the walls and into Bertram's front lines. The two siege engines that had been threatening for most of the night remained on station about thirty feet from the walls because none of Bertram's men were brave enough to attempt moving them towards the walls again; all who had tried had been cut down or otherwise injured by de Poyer's defense. Now, no one attempted to go near them as they all dove for cover.

With the main gatehouse alive with a renewed offense, Keller snapped orders to the men remaining around him.

"Lower a rope," his voice was quick and controlled. "Get ready to pull them up."

Derica was still hovering over the side of the wall, watching as a figure she recognized emerged from the river. She would have known that tall, powerful form anywhere. Joy at the confirmation surged and forgetting herself, she suddenly waved her arms and screamed.

"Garren!" she cried.

Startled, Keller ran at her and threw her in a bear hug, pulling her away from the wall. Derica struggled violently against him.

"Are you mad?" he hissed. "Do you want to attract your father's attention?"

Her initial fury at being grabbed morphed into terror. She immediately stopped struggling.

"My God," she breathed. "I… I am so sorry. I did not think."

Keller gazed into her beautiful eyes, his thoughts moving to those not of battle. He was suddenly thinking of the woman in his arms, her soft lips, and the marriage that would not take place. It would be so easy to allow le Mon to fall from the rope or succumb to de Rosa's attack. But he simply couldn't do it. As quickly as he grabbed her, he released her and returned to the wall where his men were lowering a fat, scratchy rope.

Derica hovered back out of the way, watching the men work the rope and praying she hadn't, in her zeal, attracted unwanted attention. It had been stupid in hindsight; she knew that. But she was so thrilled to see her husband that her excitement had gotten the better of her.

Quietly, she wandered to the edge of the wall walk again, peering over the side and seeing Garren and Fergus at much closer range. They were both sopping, scrambling up the embankment that led to the tower. Thrilled, Derica clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't make any noise. She began jumping up and down, hand over her mouth, as far below, Garren reached for the rope. He was so close she could almost taste him and her desperation to touch him, feel him, was palpable.

But horror struck as a high-pitched wail suddenly filled the early morning air. Derica saw Garren duck, realizing that someone had launched an arrow at him. Everyone on the wall walk shifted their focus to the south side to see that several dozen de Rosa men were scaling the slopes of the western wall, making their way from the south side of the castle, and they were heading straight for Garren and Fergus.

Keller was suddenly next to Derica, his dark eyes riveted to the incoming men.

"Damn," he hissed, turning to the men on the wall who held the rope. "Get le Mon up here. He will not survive long down there. Move!"

"My God," Derica was watching her father's men approach, the tears in her eyes now spilling over. "I did not mean to alert them. I did not mean to do it!"

Keller heard her. He grabbed the tail end of the rope, anchoring it with his big body. "You did not," he replied calmly. "The arrow assault over the southern wall drove the men to seek shelter. I would surmise they scattered to the west side to hide, saw what we were doing, and decided to investigate. I… I should have considered that possibility. It is my fault."

Derica's hand was at her mouth in fear as her gaze lingered on Keller a moment before returning her focus to the incoming de Rosa men. Then she looked to Garren, who had by this time grabbed the rope. She could see that he was waving at Fergus to join him, but Fergus refused. Garren then held out the rope to Fergus, indicating for the man to go first. Derica could see what was happening and her terror mounted. The de Rosa men were coming closer and more arrows were flying.

Before Keller could stop her, Derica screamed again at the top of her lungs. She just couldn't stand there any longer and watch the indecision that had her own life hanging in the balance. He had to hurry.

"Garren! Take the rope!"

*

Garren heard the scream. It startled the hell out of him. His body jerked as if he had been struck and his shocked gaze moved to the wall. Though there was twenty feet of rock and dozens of men in his field of vision, all he could see was a vision in violet.

After that, he remembered very little except an overwhelming need to get to her. He grabbed the rope, yanking Fergus by the neck to follow him.

"Come on," he roared. "Grab the rope!"

But Fergus still begged off. "The weight will be too much," he insisted, shoving Garren at the rope and waving to the men high on the wall. "If I latch on, chances are neither of us will survive. You must go. Your wife is waiting."

Garren could see de Rosa's men rushing at them from the south. They weren't firing off as many arrows as they had initially but they were closer now, swords flashing in the early morning light.

He knew Fergus was correct; God help him, he knew it. He heard his wife scream again and a grunt of frustration escaped his lips, turning to her panicked face before looking to Fergus again.

"Fergus," he rasped, feeling the rope lift even as he held on to it. "I simply cannot leave you to your death."

Fergus' blue eyes glittered. "And so you are not," he assured him, motioning to the men high atop the wall to hurry up the rope. "I shall be here when you reach the top of the wall. There will be opportunity still."

Garren knew it wasn't the truth and his anguish tore at him. His gaze met with Fergus' bright blue, a million words of thanks and friendship passing between them. This was where they parted and they both knew it. The time for heroics was over.

"Get back in the water, then," he hissed. "Swim as fast as you can and get out of here."

The rope was pulling Garren up, out of arm's reach. Fergus gazed up at him, eyeing the de Rosa men that were far closer now.

"I believe that would be wise," Fergus agreed, darting back down the slope towards the river.

Garren was several feet above even the tallest man's arm reach. The soldiers on the wall were heaving him upward, upward still as the de Rosa men swarmed below him. As he watched, several took off after Fergus, who had reached the water. Just as Fergus dove into the cold, muddy river, two men dove in after him. As Fergus came up for air, one man surged atop him and plunged his head under the water.

Upon the wall walk, Derica screamed again as she watched the man attempt to drown Fergus. The second de Rosa soldier reached him and soon, Fergus was being pushed down by two men. Derica was positive she was watching the man drown when suddenly, an arrow sailed by her ear and plowed into one of the men wrestling with Fergus.

Startled, she looked to see Keller with a double-shot crossbow in his hand. His dark eyes were focused on the second man fighting with Fergus and, as Derica watched, he dropped the second man with another well-aimed arrow.

Fergus swam away with only a few men several feet behind him, too far away to do any damage. They eventually turned back as Fergus kept swimming for the safety of the opposite shore. He eventually climbed out and ran off, free as a bird.

Mouth hanging open, Derica turned to Keller to thank him for assisting Fergus but the man was already gone. To her right, the soldiers hauling her husband up the wall had gotten him to within a few feet of the summit and her focus returned to Garren.

She forgot about Keller and his dead-eye aim, instead rushing to the group of men now pulling Garren up over the side of the wall walk. She tried to push her way through the group but there were too many men, so she hung back, heart in her throat, struggling for a glimpse of his copper-blond hair. All she could see was a sea of soldiers. But suddenly, the armor parted and Garren appeared, unwrapping the rope from his arm. The moment their eyes met, the rope fell to the ground.

Derica hadn't seen him move; one moment she was standing looking at him and in the next, she was aloft in his arms. When she realized this, the tears came and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly enough to strangle him.

"You are not dead," she gasped over and over. "You are not dead!"

Garren held her so tightly that he swore he heard bones cracking. He was only aware of her soft body in his arms, her hot breath in his ear. He couldn't seem to hold her tightly enough, closely enough, feeling her hair tickle his face. It was like heaven. Before he realized it, he was kissing her cheeks, her nose, her eyes now wet with tears. All the while, Derica gasped, something between a laugh and a sob.

"Nay," he breathed in between heated kisses. "I am not dead. And neither are you."

Derica laughed joyously, meeting his feverish kisses with delight. Her hands were on his stubbled face as he literally kissed every pore on her face. He didn't seem to want to do anything other than kiss her. But as the initial shock of delirium began to fade, Derica wanted answers.

"What happened?" she asked in between furious kisses. "Why did the Marshal send me a missive telling me of your death? Fergus said that he was mistaken. How could he make a mistake like that?"

Garren sighed, his kisses slowing considerably. It occurred to him that they were on the wall walk, not the best place to be in the midst of a battle. He stopped kissing her long enough to look around, noticing the nearby turret and taking Derica along with him as he made haste for it.

His arms were around her as they entered the cool shelter of the tower. His hands moved to her face, touching her reverently as if to confirm that she was indeed real. He still couldn't believe it. But the question hung in the air between them, the massive implications becoming reality. He didn't even know where to start.

"What else did Fergus tell you?" he asked softly.

Derica shook her head, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Not much more," she told him. "He simply said that the Marshal was mistaken about your death. But how can this be?"

Garren thought on that question, taking her hands between his own and kissing them reverently.

"I told you that nothing could keep me from you," he murmured. "Not the Marshal nor your father nor even death. I meant it. Fergus came to me when I was on the battlefield at Lincoln to tell me that you had disappeared from Cilgarren. At that moment, there was nothing more important on earth than finding you and I was determined to do so. Dead or alive, I would find you. But I knew the Marshal would not let me go so easily so I faked my own death so that I would be free to return to Wales to search for you. I had no idea that the Marshal would find you before I would, sending you missives of my death."

Derica stared at him, shocked by the story. "So the Marshal still believes you are dead?"

He nodded slowly. "If he finds out that I faked my death, then my death might not be such a mistake after all. He will not be pleased."

Derica clutched at him. "What are you going to do?"

He kissed her fingers again, still gripped between his two enormous palms. "Truthfully, I had not thought on it. My only focus has been to reclaim you. Now that I have you, I suppose I must make plans for our future."

"What future?"

His blue eyes glimmered. "A glorious one now that you and I are together again. What does it matter with kings and princes? The only thing that matters is you. Trust that I will do what is necessary to build a fine legacy for our son." His gaze drifted over her slender body. "I must say, you do not appear to be with child."

Derica's soft expression faded somewhat, realizing that Fergus, or someone, must have told him that she had been pregnant. She sighed softly, putting a tender hand to his cheek. "I am not," she murmured. "Not any longer."

His brow flickered with confusion. "But Fergus said…."

She cut him off gently. "It was not meant to be. The fall into the river saw to that." She saw his expression wash with sorrow and she turned the tables on him, kissing his big hands instead. "Do you know how I ended up at Pembroke?"

He nodded, distressed, and she pressed him. "Did Fergus tell you?"

"He did."

"Then you know that I slipped from the hill at Cilgarren and into the river. I was found by a woman and her two children. They nursed me back to health." She smiled timidly at him. "There will be more children, my love. Do not grieve for the one lost. It simply was not meant to be, not this time."

He nodded reluctantly, pulling her back into his embrace once again. For several moments, he fell silent, rocking her gently against him and relishing the feel of her in his arms once more. He felt extremely blessed for her life yet sorrowful for the one she lost. Still, they were together and that was the only thing of import now. He murmured prayers of thanks as he stood there and held her.

Outside of the tower, the sounds of battle were growing. Men were shouting and arrows were slinging over the walls. Garren's gaze moved to the portion of the wall walk he could see, watching the battle grow more intense.

Derica noted where his focus lay and she, too, gazed out of the tower, watching the activity upon it. Then she looked up at her husband, his handsome profile as he watched the action. She could tell that he was anxious, pensive, torn. Now that they had found each other, bigger issues loomed.

"What will we do now?" she asked softly. "My father is here to retrieve me. Keller is doing all he can to protect us."

Garren looked at her. "De Poyer is a good man," he said. "I have known him for years. He would have made a good husband for you."

She could see the mirth in his eyes and she shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. "Perhaps. But I would rather have you."

His smile broke through and he kissed her tenderly. "How fortunate for me," he murmured against her lips. "In answer to your question, however, I do not know what we are going to do right now. But I can do one of two things; I can return to the Marshal and beg his forgiveness, or we can leave England entirely and start a new life somewhere else."

She gazed at him seriously. "You said the Marshal would kill you if he found out you faked your death."

"It is entirely possible. But an honorable man would hone up to his actions. They were, after all, in pursuit of a noble cause and I have always considered myself a man of honor."

She fell silent, pondering the greater implications. "I would be honest when I say that I do not want to risk it," she whispered. "I would rather have you alive, Garren. Is your honor worth more than your life with me?"

He took a long, pensive breath. "Nay," he murmured. "I do believe that I have demonstrated that. I have destroyed everything I have ever worked for but it matters not. I am nothing without you."

"Then we will flee England?"

He looked at her, seeing the light of hope in her eyes. He knew, as he lived and breathed, that he could not return to the Marshal to tell him why he had faked his death. He was fairly certain the Marshal would never trust him again and he could no longer continue as an agent for the king. All of that was destroyed the moment they dressed that old, rotted corpse in his battle armor at Lincoln. Garren realized, as he gazed into Derica's eyes, that a whole new life was before him, something richer and more wonderful than he could ever imagine. He was very eager to know it.

"Aye," he whispered. "We will leave and never look back."

Derica threw her arms around his neck, holding him close against her and praying they were making the correct choice. All she knew was that he was alive and they were together, forever, whatever may come. He had given up everything he had ever worked for because of her. She would spend the rest of her life making sure he did not regret it.

As night fell on another brutal and bloody day, the de Rosa army camped at a safe distance around the walls of Pembroke with the exception of the area of the swampy marsh that surrounded the water gate on the northeast side of the castle. There was no way to cover that area without getting too close to the castle and too close to the archer's range. Bertram saw no reason to cover the old, mossy iron grate that sat half-buried in the water, instead choosing to focus his attention on the south and west sides. The decision would cost him.

By the cover of darkness as the sliver moon barely illuminated the velvet expanse of sky, Garren, Derica, Aneirin and Sian escaped in the chest-deep water that filled the swamp. Garren carried both children in his arms and his wife was tethered to him with a rope that Keller had tied about the two of them. Fortunately, Aneirin and Sian were good swimmers and when Garren told them to hold their breath, they did. Into the river they went, through the dark and murky water to safety on the other side.

Keller watched the four heads cross the ghostly gray river in the dead of night, more sorrow in his heart than he could comprehend. But seeing the joy in Derica's face, and seeing the love in Garren's, told him that he was doing the right thing. Heartbreaking or not, it was the correct thing to do.

Bertram de Rosa laid siege to Pembroke for four more days before finally giving up and going home.

He knew he would never see his daughter again.