Medieval Master Swordsmen(467)

“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.