Medieval Master Swordsmen(455)

“Fergus!”

Fergus thought he was seeing a ghost. But no ghost ever looked so lovely. Before he could stop himself, he leapt up the stairs and threw his arms around her. He almost fell, roughly pulling her from Keller’s grip. Derica shrieked in delight, which Keller took to be a scream.

The sword came out in the blink of an eye. “To your death, fool,” he snarled.

Derica caught the flash of metal. “No!” she cried. “Sir Keller, I beg you! I know him!”

Keller was far too close to slicing through Fergus’ neck. He almost nicked him in his haste to stop the blade. Fergus, however, was unaware of anything other than Derica in his arms. He held her out at arm’s length, his joyful gaze drinking in every feature.

“Sweet Jesus, it is you,” he murmured. “Are you truly alive or am I seeing a delicious spirit, sent to assault my weary senses?”

Derica was weeping with happiness. “I am alive, truly I am.”

He looked her up and down, still unbelieving. “You look real enough, I shall grant you,” he said joyfully. “You look… wonderful, my lady, just wonderful. But you look so slim. The last I saw you, you had.…”

He froze, realizing he was babbling, suddenly aware that the last time he saw her she had the rounded belly of a pregnant woman. He paled as Derica caught his meaning.

“It was not meant to be, not this time,” she murmured. Her grip on Fergus tightened. “But they told me of Garren. Dear God, they told me.”

Fergus shook off the shock of the lost baby, trying to focus on what she was saying. “They told you of…?”

She nodded before he could finish his sentence. “Did you see for yourself? Did you see him? Is that what you have come to tell me?”

“Tell you…?” Fergus noticed the big knight in his peripheral vision; the man didn’t look happy. He struggled not to say too much. “What have you been told?”

“That he is dead.” Derica burst into soft sobs. “Oh, Fergus… I simply don’t want to live any longer….”

She fell against him for comfort. Fergus could see the big knight turn away as she did so. He had no idea how jealous Keller was, or how hurt, watching Fergus comfort her the way he had wanted to.

She was crying as if her heart was broken into a million fragile pieces. Fergus held her gently. “Take heed, my lady,” he murmured in her ear. “All will be well, have no fear.”

Derica sobbed. “This damnable war,” she suddenly grew angry and pulled herself from his comforting embrace. “This is all William Marshal’s fault. He murdered Garren as if he had taken the sword to him personally. And to grant me titles and land in compensation for Garren’s loss is… is an insult. It is worse. It is an affront to all that Garren stood for. I would rather have my husband than a bunch of dirt and a pile of cold, heartless rocks.”

Fergus was hearing a good deal of overwhelming information, struggling to maintain his composure and piece the puzzle together. So the Marshal knew of Garren’s death, as they’d planned. But what the old man did was unexpected if what Derica said was true. There was more going on here than Fergus, or Garren for that matter, could have anticipated.

“But the lowest blow of all is the betrothal,” Derica was wiping her nose and eyes. “My feelings are in no way reflective of Sir Keller’s worthiness, but I am apparently to become a pawn in William Marshal’s game for some inconceivable reason. Why on earth should he…?”

Fergus cut her off then. He had to. Taking her firmly by the arm, he turned her in the direction of the keep. “Perhaps we should speak of this inside, so that all the world cannot hear us.” He glanced at the big knight. “My apologies for my dramatic entrance, sir knight. I am Sir Fergus de Edwin, a friend of the lady’s husband. Up until a moment ago, I believed the lady dead. You will understand my astonished reaction to her.”

It didn’t make any sense to Keller, but at the moment, he didn’t much care. He was more concerned with Derica’s emotional outburst with the blond knight and struggling with the envy it provoked. He tried to be civil.

“I am Keller de Poyer, garrison commander of Pembroke Castle,” he said. “You seem to have caught us at an awkward moment, as I was just on my way to fulfill a promise to my lady.”

Derica spoke before Fergus could ask. “He is going to find Garren’s body, Fergus. He promised me that he would.”

Fergus just looked at her, trying to conceal his reaction to two very startling points; the big knight had the same name as the man Derica had mentioned in the same breath as her betrothal. Furthermore, he wasn’t at all sure what promise the knight was planning to fulfill, but Derica’s statement had answered that. There were wheels in motion here that he was adamant to stop.