Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lansdown Castle, Somerset

July, Year of our lord 1215

"D ani, where are you?" Jocelin's disembodied voice floated upon the warm summer air. "Dani?"

It was July in the lush green countryside of Somerset. The humidity was heavy, both from the River Avon and the not so distant sea, but it was nonetheless a lovely day infused with the scent of summer flowers.

Seated beside the lake just outside the walls of Lansdown, Sheridan lounged comfortably beneath a colorful umbrella with the water licking at her feet. Alys was sitting in the lake, for the weather was too hot for her liking, and the little pup, now grown into a little dog, leapt through the grass chasing imaginary rabbits. At the sound of Jocelin's voice, Sheridan turned to see him wandering in the tall grass on the rise above the lake.

"Here we are," she called back to him, waving her hand.

The bishop caught sight of her, partially hidden by a sapling, and made his way down the hill in her direction. Sheridan turned in her chair, facing the lake again and watching the bugs dance upon the waters. To her left was an easel with a half-finished painting of the lake; she wasn't very good at painting but she enjoyed it. She'd been able to do little else over the past few months as her pregnancy advanced. She was enormous at almost seven months and her mother's physic said she carried twins. With all of the tumbling and kicking in her belly, she was positive that he was correct.

At her feet, Alys rolled around in the water, playing with the grass at the lake's edge. Her little sister was still the same after all these months only she had grown up just a little; she seemed more mature somehow, more somber. She no longer believed herself in love with every man she met. Gone were the flighty tendencies and temper tantrums. She lived and breathed for her sister's comfort. Wars and tragedy had a way of maturing those they touched.

"Do you think Guy will come and visit soon?" she asked her sister as she picked at a blade. "The last time he was here, he said that he would return soon. Do you suppose that he will?"

Sheridan's thought of de Braose and his constant presence. "I am sure he will be back shortly."

"He always comes back."

"Indeed he does."

Alys cast her sister a sidelong glance as she toyed with the grass. "He loves you so, Dani," she said softly. "You really should marry him and put him out of his misery."

Sheridan ignored her sister, turning back to her painting. "You are going to turn into a prune if you stay in that water much longer."

Alys tossed the grass aside and sat up, splashing water on her arms. "'Tis too hot to get out just yet," she eyed her sister again. "Dani, do you not want the baby to have a father when it is born? Guy has been very kind to you and he would love this baby as his own. Moreover, you promised Sean that you would marry him. Do you intend to go back on your promise?"

Sheridan's jaw began to tick. "I do not wish to discuss this with you."

Alys suddenly stood up, water cascading off her white thighs. "And why not?" she sloshed through the water towards the shore. "You have avoided speaking with anyone about it for six months. You cannot put it off forever."

"I can put it off forever if I wish."

Alys reached the shore. "But this is not healthy for you," she pleaded. "I know that you do not want to make any decisions until you have confirmation of Sean's death, but it has been seven months now and no one has seen or heard from the man. Jocelin has sent missives to the Marshall that have gone unanswered. No one can find Gilby and not even Neely knows what became of Sean after he left him at the Tower. When are you going to come to terms with the fact that Sean is dead and you must move forward with your life?"

Sheridan threw her brush to the ground and stood up as swiftly as her swollen body would allow. Alys sighed heavily as her sister crossed her arms stubbornly. By this time, Jocelin had joined them and he instantly sensed the tension in the air. He eyed both girls.

"Dani?" he ventured. "Alys? What is the matter?"

Sheridan refused to look at him; unwinding her arms, she put her hands to the small of her back and wandered towards the lake. Alys watched her walk away with the little dog jumping happily at her feet.

"Nothing new is the matter," Alys told Jocelin. "We were simply speaking of Guy."

Jocelin wriggled his eyebrows at the very touchy subject matter.

"I see," he watched Sheridan as she stood at the edge of the water and threw a little stick to the dog. He wasn't sure he should even tell her what he had come to say but he could not keep it a secret. She would find out soon enough. "I came to tell you that the sentries have sighted riders about a mile out. I suspect that it is Guy returned."

Sheridan simply hung her head. Jocelin cast a long glace at Alys, silently ordering the girl away. Alys did so reluctantly, taking the dog with her as it raced up the hill. When the red- headed sister was gone, Jocelin went to stand next to Sheridan. His gaze moved over the lake, the gentle reeds and finally the distant horizon. He could feel Sheridan's sorrow; he had been feeling it for months. But her sorrow did not erase the facts.

"Perhaps…," he began, then cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should think on consenting to Guy's proposal. The man will not wait forever."

"Then let him move on," Sheridan snapped softly. "I did not ask him to wait for me."

"But you promised Sean that you would marry him. That is why he waits. And also because he loves you a great deal."

Sheridan turned away from him and began to walk the muddy shore. "Why must we speak on this every time he comes around?" she asked. "I have told you this time and time again; I have no intention of marrying Guy until I know for certain that Sean is dead."

Jocelin drew in a long, deep breath, shaking his head. "Dani…."

She whirled on him. "Show me his body and I shall believe," she said forcefully, "because until such time as I have proof, my husband is still alive and I will not marry anyone else."

Jocelin exhaled sharply. "I have sent missives to the Marshall asking for proof. The man has not responded because he is too busy with more important things. You know that the barons are on the march against the crown and the Marshall is with them. You must accept that.…"

"Nay!" Sheridan roared, kicking at the water at her feet. "I will not accept. If you want me to believe that my husband perished, then I must have proof."

"It has been six months since you last saw him. I would say the fact that he has not come for you in all that time is proof enough."

Her raging came to an abrupt halt and she simply stood there, staring at her feet. She was between sorrow and anger so often these days. "Father Simon said that…."

"Father Simon is in London."

Her head came up and she fixed on him. "Father Simon said there is always hope. Sean is stronger than we know."

Jocelin pursed his lips sympathetically and went to her, putting his meaty hands on her arms.

"Father Simon was trying to give you comfort," he shook her gently. "I believe the time has come for you to accept that your husband did not survive. Now, when young de Braose comes today, I would suggest you reconsider his proposal. He is a good man, Dani. He will make a fine husband and father."

"I like Guy a great deal but I do not want to marry him."

"I know you do not. But you must consider what is right for the baby. And you promised Sean that you would."

He always threw that into the mix; Sheridan was coming to wish she had never told him that detail of her last conversation with Sean. As the months passed and her pregnancy advanced, so did her resolve against remarriage. She wasn't foolish; she knew that they were trying to force her into marriage with de Braose for her own good. Moreover, Guy loved her. Over the past several months he had proven himself wise, humorous and compassionate and Sheridan had come to like the man a great deal. But she did not love him. She probably never would. Her heart would always belong to de Lara.

Yet she could not deny that it was increasingly apparent that Sean was dead. She kept hope in her heart that he had survived, but the more time passed, the harder it was to keep that hope alive. One day it would break down completely. Every time she reflected on the last time she saw him, her heart shattered just a little more. Perhaps it was time to finally accept the obvious.

She chewed on her lip, staring at the ground. After a moment, her blond head came up and she struggled with the words that were forming.

"If it will make you happy, I will make Guy a counter proposal," she spoke so softly that he barely heard her. "If he can bring me proof that Sean is dead…."

Jocelin cut her off. "He has tried that. He has gone to London to find out what became of Sean but he was unable to discover anything except those journals he brought to you."

Sheridan's gaze moved across the water as she thought on the volumes that Guy had brought back to her from the Tower. A priest at the Tower had given them to Guy when he had come around asking about de Lara; no one was sure how the volumes of journals had ended up in the chapel, but they had. The priests had found them in a dark corner, covered with a cloth, and left them there because they were unsure what to do with them. But that changed when de Braose came to the Tower on a spring day in April. Guy had dutifully turned them over to Sheridan, who, unable to read Latin, had asked Guy to read them to her.

It had been an eye-opening experience into the life and thoughts of a spy. The Chronicles of Sean de Lara had, if nothing else, fed false hope in Sheridan that the man was still alive. Surely one so strong could never die.

"Dani?" Jocelin gently shook her from her reflection. "Did you hear me?"

She sighed faintly, allowing thoughts of the chronicles to fade. "I heard you," she murmured. Then she looked at him. "I am only asking for something which I believe is my right. If Guy could find an eyewitness to Sean's death or even the location of his burial, I would no longer resist his marriage proposal. There would be no reason to."

Her statement was the first truly positive inkling she had issued towards a marriage to de Braose in six months and Jocelin squeezed her arms encouragingly.

"Very well," he said quietly. "If that is what it will take, then surely there is something more he can do to help you come to grips with Sean's death. I am sure if he knew you would agree to marry him right away, he would do everything possible to meet your terms. Shall I tell him?"

She paused a long moment before nodding. Jocelin kissed her on the top of the head and let her go.

"Then I shall go and tell him," he said as he began the long trek up the hill. "He will be pleased."

Sheridan turned back to the lake, standing alone as the gentle waters lapped at her feet. After a moment, the tears came, silently pouring down her cheeks as they had done so often these past six months. She wiped at her face, trying to stay ahead of the torrents that dripped onto her bosom. But it was of no use; the tears sprang from a well of grief that would never run dry.

She continued to stand there for quite some time, pondering her future. She did not want to return to the castle where Guy had arrived and was now undoubtedly asking where she was. It would take little time for him to find her. He was, if nothing else, predictable. She wanted to spend a few moments alone with her thoughts before he came hounding after her like an eager puppy.

Sheridan put her hands against the small of her back again and began to pace around the shore of the lake. Lost in reflection, she barely missed stepping on a harmless little snake as it drank from the water. She shrieked, first in surprise, followed by giggles when she realized what she had nearly done. She stood there a moment, watching the snake fade into the weeds.

"Sheridan?"

A familiar voice caught her attention and she turned abruptly to see Guy standing a few feet behind her. Her heart sank a little at the sight of him; he had found her sooner than she had hoped.

"Greetings, Guy," she said pleasantly. "How was London?"

He shrugged vaguely. "It was… eventful," he seemed rather unsteady in his manner. "I heard you scream. Are you all right?"

She grinned, pointing to the grass. "A little snake startled me," she said. "I am fine."

Guy nodded and it was then that Sheridan noticed he seemed tight and drawn about the face. She peered more closely at him.

"What is wrong?" she asked. "You look strange."

Guy seemed taken aback that she noticed his demeanor; he was hoping that it was not too noticeable. Then again, he had never been any good at hiding his feelings.

"Do I?" He tried to bluff his way out of it but found that he could not. "It… it is nothing, really. Well, perhaps something. Aye, it is something."

He was rambling and she lifted her eyebrows at him. "What is it?"

He wasn't sure where to start. Reaching out, he took her gently by the arm and began to walk her back over to the chair and umbrella spread beneath the sapling. It was cooler in the shade.

"I just want to say something," he began softly. "I have… well, I have loved you since nearly the moment we first met. You know that. And I have wanted to marry you for nearly as long."

She sighed faintly, pausing to look at him. She was hoping they could have avoided this subject for a little while but she was not surprised that it was the first thing out of his mouth.

"I know that," she said quietly. "And I am not trying to be cruel by refusing, but.…"

He cut her off. "I realize that. Your heart is with Sean; I have always known. And I want you to know that I have finally accepted that. I have accepted the fact that you and I shall never wed."

Her brow furrowed faintly; his manner seemed rather abrupt and slightly nervous. "Why would you say such a thing?" she asked curiously.

He regarded her a moment before taking a deep breath. "You are aware that I went to London at the bequest of my father."

She nodded. "Of course. You were here at Lansdown when he sent a missive and asked you to go to London on an errand."

"Aye," Guy was having difficulty looking at her. "I did go to London. But it was not on an errand for my father. It was because my father had received a missive addressed to me at Abergavenny Castle."

"What missive?"

"A missive about Sean."

Fortunately they had reached her chair because Sheridan felt all of the blood rush from her head. Guy carefully lowered her into the chair. The tears were already pouring from her eyes as he sat beside her.

"My God," she breathed. "Is it true?"

"It is. It said…."

"Please," she wept softly. "I do not want to know what it said. Please do not tell me."

He knew she did not mean it; she was simply refusing the pain that she believed such a missive would bring. Guy put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

"I must tell you," he said quietly. "You must be strong and listen to every word. Please, Sheridan. It is important."

She looked at him, sobbing fearfully. Although she had wanted proof of his death, still, the reality of it was difficult to bear. But she eventually nodded and he continued.

"The reason that no one was able to discover anything about Sean is because the Marshall had him taken to Rossington House in north London," he said gently. "When the Marshall went on to fight the baron's wars, there was no way to know that Sean had ended up at Rossington. Only two people knew of his location; William and Gilby. The missive I received was from Gilby."

"Gilby?" She was sobbing into her hand. "What… what did he say?"

Guy stroked her head gently, trying to keep her calm. "He sent it to Abergavenny because he thought you would be there, with me," he told her gently. "You did, after all, promise Sean that you would marry me. He naturally assumed you would be there."

"Tell me what it said."

Guy sighed faintly. "It said that Sean survived his trip from the Tower to Rossington. God knows how, but he survived. Gilby did not expect him to live after that. He said that he waited daily for Sean to die."

Sheridan was sobbing so hard that she was almost incoherent. Guy shook her gently, forcing her to look at him. When he saw how distraught she was, he took her kerchief and dipped it in the lake, gently swabbing her cheeks so that she would calm. He did not know what else to do.

"Why…," she gasped. "Why did you go to London?"

"Because Sean was in London."

Sheridan was growing faint with grief. But she struggled through it, knowing it would do no good to weep for her husband dead these long months. Perhaps she really had known all along that he had perished but had refused to accept it. The confirmation was hard to face.

"Did… did you see him?" she whispered.

"I brought him with me."

She yelped, looking at Guy with such horror that the man put his hands on her to still her. Sheridan struggled to stand up.

"I must go to him," she sounded extremely unsteady. "I must go to him right away. Where is he?"

Guy was struggling to calm her, letting out a piercing whistled as he did so. It was evident that he was calling for someone, perhaps assistance for the hysterical lady. She was veering out of control and he needed help.

"Sheridan, you must calm yourself," he pleaded. "You do not need to go to him. He will come to you. But I wanted to prepare you."

"Prepare me for what ?"

Guy blinked, realizing she did not understand. It was the most obvious thing in the world as he had explained it; or, at least, he thought so. But given her reaction, he realized that he had not been clear. Before he had a chance to clarify, a massive silhouette appeared on the crest of the hill above the lake. The sun was at such an angle that it was difficult to make out any features, but the size alone was explanation enough.

Sheridan caught a glimpse of the figure in her peripheral vision, turning when she realized someone was approaching. She inspected the body, watched the familiar gait, and an odd feeling swept her. She suddenly felt as if she was in a dream, for surely, things like this only happened in dreams. There was no other explanation. She began to feel faint as she realized that she was gazing at her husband.

As if by a miracle, her hysteria vanished. She stared at Sean as he walked towards her; there was no mistaking his proud stance or the soft expression on his face. He looked like he did when they had first met; dressed in a soft blue tunic, leather breeches and boots, he was more handsome than she had remembered. As she continued to stare at him, she noticed that he had lost some of his bulk. It was Sean, only leaner. Somehow, someway, the man had survived.

It was too much to take. With a whimper, she fell back in her chair. Guy tried to support her, looking at her astonished face and hoping she wasn't about to have a spell.

"He survived, Sheridan," he said gently. "Sean was in London with Gilby. He thought you would be at Abergavenny with me, which is why Gilby sent the missive there. The missive asked for me to bring you to London, yet I knew that I could not. Not with the baby. So I went to retrieve Sean to bring him back to you."

By this time, Sean was nearly upon them. Sheridan hardly heard any of Guy's words; she was focused on her husband's smiling face. Guy backed away as Sean knelt timidly beside his wife, his expression one of utter tenderness as he beheld her face for the first time in ages. For a small eternity, they simply stared at each other. Sheridan remained frozen until Sean finally spoke to Guy.

"You were supposed to prepare her, de Braose," he said. "I see that you did not do an adequate job. She thinks I am a ghost."

The sound of his voice was all Sheridan needed to snap her out of her trance; she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him so hard that she threatened to strangle him. Sean laughed softly and enveloped her in his massive arms, feeling her life and softness. It was better than he had remembered; words could not adequately describe the elation of the moment. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"Sweet Jesus," he muttered, his hands in her hair. "Are you all right, sweetling? Say something."

Sheridan was literally speechless. She refused to let go even when he tried to pull her away from him so he could get a good look at her.

"Nay," she gasped. "I shall not let go. If I do, I will wake up and this all will have been a dream. Let me dream a little longer."

Sean gave in to her request and held her tightly. For the first time in his life, he turned himself over completely to the weakness of emotion, closing his eyes and feeling the tears course down his cheeks. He'd never truly allowed himself such a lack of control. It was the most magnificent moment of his life.

"It is no dream, sweetling," he murmured into her hair. "I told you I would come for you no matter what. I am sorry it has taken me so long to live up to my promise."

Sheridan had a death grip on him. "You survived."

"I survived."

"I do not believe it."

He laughed softly. "Believe it. It is the truth."

She suddenly pulled her face from the crook of his neck, her luminous blue eyes glistening with tears of joy. She was weeping again, but this time from disbelief and jubilation. She ran her fingers across his wet cheeks, then his lips, and he kissed them tenderly. But it wasn't enough; he pushed past her fingers and latched on to her mouth. He kissed her with something more powerful than joy or passion; it was love in its purest form.

"My God," Sheridan breathed as his mouth left her lips and moved over her face. "Father Simon told me not to give up hope."

Sean inhaled her scent deeply; there were times when he never thought he would smell it again. Tears were still in his eyes as he kissed her neck, her cheek.

"I am so sorry to have caused you such torment," he murmured. "To ask for forgiveness seems wholly insufficient."

She shook her head, touching his face as if still convincing herself that he was real.

"There is nothing to forgive," she insisted softly. "I told everyone that I would not believe you had died unless they provided me with proof. Until I had your dead body within my grasp, there was still hope. I never let it die."

He smiled faintly, kissing her again just because he could. "I never let it die, either."

As she gazed back at him, her expression suddenly turned wistful. "Tell me what happened after I left you. Why did you not send me word before now?"

He sighed, shifting so that she was more comfortable. But it only managed to bump her belly against him and he looked down at her swollen midsection, putting his hand reverently against her stomach. He seemed to lose his composure again as the tears welled once more.

"A baby," he said, caressing her rounded belly. "Guy told me. I could not have imagined such a blessing. 'Tis a miracle."

She smiled weakly, watching his awe-struck expression. "The physic says that he believes it to be twins."

Sean's eyebrows flew up. "Twins?" he repeated, awed. "Sweet Jesus, is he sure?"

"He seems to be."

"Do you feel all right?"

She laughed joyously. "Now that you are in my arms, I feel wonderful," she sobered. "Please tell me what happened after we parted at the Tower."

He continued to rub her belly, distracted by the surprise of her pregnancy and struggling to focus on her question.

"The Marshall took me from the Tower to a manor he owns in north London," he replied softly, looking up from her belly and focusing on her face. "I lost consciousness at some point very soon after you fled with Guy and Father Simon. I do not remember anything until waking up almost a week later. For a very long time, I lingered near death. Gilby thought I was dead many times over but somehow I always managed to prove him wrong. When I had been infirm for about a month, a nasty infection set in and I was incapacitated for almost two months. Gilby never left my side, doing everything he could to be rid of the infection. But my body was so weak by that point that he could not rid me of it entirely. It kept coming back."

Sheridan listened with tremendous sympathy, kissing his hand, his cheek, as he spoke. "My poor Sean," she murmured. "But I am so thankful that you did indeed survive."

He wriggled his eyebrows wearily. "It was a long road, believe me."

"But why did Gilby not send word to me? I would have come to be with you during your illness."

He looked at her sheepishly; now came the meat of his confession. "I would not let him," he told her. "I was convinced that I was going to die and I did not want him to notify you that I had survived my initial injury only to receive word that some random poison had just as quickly claimed my life. It was selfish of me, I know, but I did not want to put you through that hell. Better that you believed I died on that fateful night than suffer emotional highs and lows of health issues that seemingly had no end."

She sighed faintly, understanding his reasons but distressed by them nonetheless. "I love you, Sean," she insisted softly. "I was my right to know."

"I realize that. But I suppose in my own mind I was trying to protect you."

"So you would permit me to believe you were dead so I could marry Guy and get on with my life?"

"Something like that," he murmured, feeling stupid even as he said it. "But the months passed and I slowly grew stronger. And along with my health, my resistance against the king returned."

She looked at him, shaking her head after a moment. "Always the king," she murmured. "You were on your death bed yet still you thought of the rebellion."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You must remember that the last nine years of my life have been dedicated to the opposition against the king. I did not want to waste my hard work. I did not want the Shadow Lord's reputation to be in vain."

She understood somewhat. "So what did you do?"

He sighed, pulling her on to his lap so he could feel her belly against him. His chin rested on her shoulder as he spoke.

"I joined the barons in Runnymede last month for the signing of what they are calling the Magna Carta," he told her. "It is a document that is meant to give rights and fairness to all. It is meant to end tyranny."

Her eyes widened. "I was supposed to be at that meeting but could not travel because of the baby. Do you mean to tell me that you were there?"

"I was."

"Jocelin was there in my stead. Did you not see him?"

He shook his head, thinking on the document he had helped author yet would never receive credit for. He wasn't even sure he would ever tell Sheridan. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.

"I knew he was there but I did not want to reveal myself," he replied. "I did not want him to be the one to tell you that he saw me there, alive, when I had not yet contacted you."

Sheridan's thoughts turned from the great Magna Carta signing, something which the entire country was now aware of, to the fact that Sean had been well enough to travel to the signing. But still, he did not contact her and his behavior was puzzling. More than that, it was hurtful.

"I fail to understand why you did not send word to me when you were well enough to move about," she said honestly. "You should have."

He kissed the shoulder that his chin was resting on. "I did send word as soon as I was strong enough to do so," he murmured. "Assuming you were with Guy, I had Gilby send word to Abergavenny in late May. It took time for the missive to reach the Marches, but Guy was not there. His father sent word to him at Lansdown, prompting Guy to meet me in London. I told him to bring you but he did not. He explained why. So I accompanied him back to Lansdown."

It was a complicated series of events that took time to execute but the explanation made sense. She understood everything perfectly and suddenly, the delays and illnesses didn't seem to matter any longer. He was here and he was real and such happiness as she had never known swept her. She put her hands on his face, focusing on his clear blue eyes.

"And so you are here," she said softly. "Now what do you intend to do?"

He smiled, his eyes glimmering. "I intend to claim my wife and wait for the birth of my sons."

"And after that? What about your commitment to William Marshall and the resistance against the king?"

He shook his head. "With the signing of the Magna Carta, I am finished," he told her. "I have given enough to king and country. From now on, my devotion is to my wife and family. The Marshall has had enough of my time. The rest of it is yours."

Tears filled her eyes again. "Swear it."

He kissed her gently. "I swear on my oath as a knight that my devotion is to you and no other. I will never leave you again."

She threw her arms around his neck again and held him tightly. Sean swallowed her up in his big arms, silently thanking God that he had been given another chance at life with Sheridan. He would not take it for granted.

When Father Simon, Alys, Gilby, Neely and Guy finally joined them at the lake a nominal amount of time later, there was joy in the reunion. Even Sheridan's mother embraced him like a long-lost son. The very cause that had drawn them all together had indelibly linked them for life and a tremendous bond had been forged, never to be broken.

For nine years, Sean had been hated and feared. But now, he felt nothing but love and companionship. Even from Guy, who had become more of a friend than a rival. On the trip from London to Lansdown, they had made their peace and Guy eventually became Sean's brother-in-law. It made the nine years as the king's shadow a horror of the past, like a faded memory. It simply didn't matter anymore.

The Shadow Lord died on that cold January night; Sean de Lara, however, did not. He lived through the Magna Carta and the cause that he had fought so hard to ensure. He lived through Lansdown and Trelystan and the other holdings he had procured. He lived through the Chronicles that his wife had kept for safekeeping and in the love he had for her. Most of all, he lived through the nine children that he and Sheridan eventually had. The beautiful twin girls born in October of that year were only the beginning.

The de Lara legacy lived on.

* THE END *