So she plotted what she would do and how she would do it. Up in the bedroom high above Kirk’s bailey, she knew what her actions would be. The first strike would be hard and fast, to disable the man. The second would be to kill him. But she wanted him to know why he was suffering, that everything she was doing had vengeance written all over it. Was she an avenging angel? Perhaps. All she knew was that she had to do this. To delay, in any fashion, might cost someone else their life and she was terrified that the someone suffering would be Kaspian.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Looking around the chamber, she could see the stick she’d brought with her from the stables. It was actually quite heavy and would make a perfect club to brain him over the skull with. Kaspian had most of his weaponry in the armory but not all of it; they’d come to Kirk with little more than the clothes on their back but Kaspian had possessed numerous small daggers that he had carried on his body and some of those daggers were on a table near the lancet window. She went to the table and picked one of them up, examining it, wondering if she could kill a man with it. It wasn’t very large but it could do some damage, at least enough to incapacitate him. After that, she would either have to stab him until she pierced his heart or find something larger to cut him with.
She held the dirk, staring at it, finally feeling some apprehension as she touched the razor-sharp tip. It wasn’t fear of Nicholas but fear for herself, perhaps. If something happened to her, then Nicholas would tell everyone that she had gone mad and tried to kill him, and that he had been forced to kill her in self-defense. She knew that Kaspian would not believe him and, in the man’s weakened state, he would go after Nicholas and quite possibly lose.
Therefore, she had to win this fight. There was no other option. Therefore, she drew in a deep breath and collected both the dirk and her big stick.
It was time to act.
With every step she took, however, apprehension grew. She hadn’t done much with her life; she had lived unspectacularly, doing mundane things, never anything grand. Never anything that would sway nations or save people or contribute to the cause of man. She was, in truth, unspectacular, at least she thought so. But in this chance to avenge people who had been wrongfully taken from this earth, she felt as if, finally, she were doing something important.
She was doing something noble.
The sun was bright in the bailey as she exited the keep, her gaze nervous as she kept an eye out for Nicholas. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him when she saw him because she knew he would rush upon her and try to tell her more lies, so it was very important that she be the one to spot him first and not the other way around. That way, she would have time to consider her actions and, hopefully, have the element of surprise. Therefore, she tried to stay in the shadows, watching and waiting for her prey.
This time, she would be the hunter.
A brisk breeze blew through the bailey, stirring the dust and debris, as Madelayne remained at the corner of the keep, standing behind a flying buttress-like feature that kept her somewhat shielded. She stood there for quite some time, watching the comings and goings of the bailey, watching for any sign of the tall, blonde knight who had done so much damage.
Minutes passed into an hour and still no sign of him. She was considering moving to the great hall to see if he might be in there, or even if someone might know where he was, when she suddenly caught sight of him as he crossed the bailey away from the stables.
Seized with the vision of an unsuspecting Nicholas, Madelayne pushed herself against the stone, watching from the shadows as Nicholas crossed the bailey towards the outbuildings that were housing some of Lavister’s troops. The man appeared as if he didn’t have a care in the world, moving quite casually, and Madelayne waited until he moved well past her. This way, she could sneak up behind him and club him on the head from behind. Therefore, she was prompted to move as he strolled across the ward away from her. She came out of her hiding place and fell in behind him.
Heart pounding in her ears, Madelayne held the heavy stick in both hands as she stalked Nicholas. There weren’t many people in the bailey at this time of day and most of the soldiers were up on the wall, so there wasn’t anybody to wonder why Lady St. Hèver was following de Dalyn with a stick in her hands. There wasn’t anyone to stop her. That was well and good because Madelayne didn’t want any distractions. She picked up her pace, closing the gap between her and Nicholas before coming to within just a few feet of him. He still wasn’t aware of her presence and that was exactly what she wanted. Lifting the heavy stick, she clobbered Nicholas across the back of the skull with it. He fell like a stone.
Terrified and thrilled she had struck down her prey, Madelayne circled him at a distance, the club still in her hands preparing to strike him again. She was delighted her plan had worked but apprehensive of what she had gotten herself in to. The reality of the blow was more than she thought it would be and now a man was at her feet, dazed. A man who had killed and killed again.
Still, she didn’t want to beat him to death, at least not yet. She wanted him to know why. For Cairn and Ewan and Mavia, she wanted Nicholas to know her motivation, a motivation as old as time itself. To right wrongs. To seek justice.
To seek vengeance.
“Can you hear me, Sir Nicholas?” Madelayne asked. When he didn’t respond, she kicked his foot. “Can you hear me?”
Nicholas moaned and twitched, rolling his head back and forth and struggling to come around. Madelayne moved closer, standing over him with the stick held high.
“Open your eyes,” she commanded. “Open your eyes and look at me, Nicholas. I know you can hear me.”
Nicholas lay there a moment before one eye popped open. Then, a second eye popped open, both of them dazed but looking at her. Madelayne realized, as he looked at her, that her fury was returning. Gazing into the face of the man who allowed Cairn to die, any apprehension she might have felt at her actions was vanished. She kicked him again.
“Listen to me, you arrogant swine,” she hissed. “I know what you did. I know that you allowed Cairn to die at the hands of the Welsh. Did you think no one would tell me? Did you think no one saw what you did? With God as my witness, you are going to pay for your treachery. Do you understand me?”
Nicholas was becoming more alert. He blinked his eyes but that was all he did; he made no effort to move anything else, not at the moment. His gaze never left hers.
“What on earth are you talking about?” he said, sounding very much as if he were the victim in all of this. “What’s this about Cairn? I did what I could for him, lady. I pulled him away from the Welsh. Who would dare to tell you otherwise?”
Infuriated, she kicked him again, right in the thigh. He flinched with pain but made no move to stop her. He didn’t move at all. Standing over him, Madelayne was close to striking him with her stick again.
“Soldiers who saw what happened,” she snapped. “They saw Cairn beg for help and they saw you stand immobile until it was too late. Are you so arrogant that you would think no one would see such a thing? Worse yet, that they would not tell me what they saw?”
Nicholas gazed up at the woman steadily. He was in a bad position, on his back as she stood over him with a stick. He knew he could easily subdue her but she would fight him and more than likely hurt herself in the process. No one would be sympathetic to a man who hurt a woman, and especially not St. Hèver. Even though Kaspian was still recovering from his wound, he was still formidable. Nicholas wasn’t ready yet to face that battle. But he also couldn’t let Lady St. Hèver have the advantage over him, now with the knowledge of what really happened at Beeston with Cairn l’Ebreux.
In truth, he never thought anyone would notice what he’d done and even if they did, he didn’t think they would talk. It would be his word against rumors.
Rumors….
“Are you so foolish that you don’t realize they are telling you that to keep you in St. Hèver’s spell?” he hissed. “These are St.
Hèver’s men, for God’s sake. They will tell you anything to keep you from knowing the truth!”
That was it as far as Madelayne was concerned. She lowered the stick, cracking Nicholas on the leg and belly as he grunted and rolled to his side, away from her. She was still hitting him as he rolled to his knees before tossing the stick away and yanking forth the dirk she had tucked in her skirt. Leaping onto Nicholas’ back, she grabbed him by the hair and lifted the dirk.
“You allowed Cairn to be killed,” she yanked on his hair, listening to him groan. “You allowed Ewan to be killed! And Mavia… you tortured her so that she killed herself! You did all of this, you wicked bastard, and their deaths must be avenged. You were supposed to uphold the codes of chivalry yet you upheld nothing – you abused trust. You allowed people to die and then lied about it. I will not let you do it again, do you hear? Not again!”
He had no idea she had the dirk so when she brought it down, it was a stabbing pain near his shoulder blade. No longer willing to stand by and allow the lady to abuse him, which evidently meant she intended to kill him, Nicholas threw her off his back and lurched to his feet, knowing he’d been stabbed but not knowing how badly he was hurt. He could feel the warm, sticky blood trickling down his back as he whirled on Madelayne.
“What have you done to me?” he hissed. “You’re mad!”
Madelayne had fallen awkwardly on her wrist and now she couldn’t move it without a good deal of pain. But she managed to get to her feet, putting the dirk in her other hand, and moving away from Nicholas. Her biggest fear came to light when she realized that she hadn’t disabled him on her first strike or even her second. They were starting to gather a crowd in the bailey and she wondered if anyone would help her. She wasn’t sure she could kill Nicholas now that he was on his feet but her determination to punish him had not lessened. It was something she had to do.
“You allowed Cairn to die,” she said, pointing the dirk at him. “Why would you do such a thing? You were supposed to be his ally yet you did not help him when he needed it. Why did you not help him?”
Nicholas, too, could see that they were gathering a crowd. Of course, people would sympathize with the lady who had lost her husband in battle and he began to feel just the slightest bit nervous. It was clear that she had been told what had happened but there was no way he was going to show weakness in the face of her accusations.
“You are quite mad,” he said, his jaw ticking. Gone was the pleasant attitude he so often put forward. Now, there was a battle going on and he meant to win it. “You are mad with grief and guilt, that is obvious. You should feel guilty, too, for allowing St. Hèver into your bed so soon after your husband’s death. But I told you… you know what I told you. He has you under his spell and if you do not break free, he will kill you, too!”
Madelayne’s composure was slipping, her fear starting to gain the upper hand. “It is not true,” she said. “Why do you lie so? Why would you harm people you are supposed to be allied with?”
Nicholas simply looked at her, a calculated stare. It was obvious that his contention that St. Hèver had allowed Cairn to be killed wasn’t registering with her. She was past the point of him being able to convince her. Therefore, he had to silence her. The more she talked, the more people would believe her and turn against him. He could fight the soldiers’ rumors but he could not fight against the widow of a man he had allowed to be killed. She would tell St. Hèver what she knew and then, Nicholas knew, everything would turn against him. All that he had worked for, the careful plans he had laid, would be wasted. All because soldiers couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Infuriated, his jaw began to tick dangerously as he rushed Madelayne.
She saw him coming and held up the dirk in front of her, as if that would be enough to ward him off, but he slapped at it, knocking it out of her hand and sending it flying. Terrified, Madelayne dodged him as he swiped at her and she ran for the big stick she had tossed away. She could see it several feet away and she dashed in that direction, reaching down to pick it up but Nicholas was right behind her. He grabbed her from behind and she screamed.
Nicholas had her tightly, pinning her arms, but she was still holding the stick. He kept trying to kick it out of her hands although from the angle he was holding her, it was awkward if not impossible. Madelayne held on to it with a death grip, unwilling to release it, all the while trying to twist from his arms.
“Let me go!” she demanded. “Let me go!”
Nicholas had his face next to the left side of her head. “I will not let you go,” he hissed in her ear. “You tried to kill me. Are you so foolish as to think I would not retaliate? Drop the stick or this will go very badly for you.”
She tried to head-butt him. “I will not drop it!” she screeched. “Let me go or you will be sorry!”
He laughed rudely in her ear. “Lady, I have had enough of your idiocy,” he said. “You and I are going someplace private where I will talk and you will listen.”
He started to walk, carrying her along awkwardly, but she would not make easy prey. She kicked at his knees, squealing and twisting, noticing that the soldiers on the wall were starting to come down from the parapet into the bailey. They were Lavister men; she recognized them. They were pointing at her and discussing the situation between them, obviously very concerned for the lady, and Madelayne held out some hope that they might try to help her. At this point, she would willingly take it. Perhaps they would even hold Nicholas down while she beat him to death with the stick. A pair of the men broke off and headed in her direction, obviously intending to help, but Nicholas saw them.
Quickly, he dropped her to her feet and put an arm across her throat, holding her threateningly. “Come no closer,” he commanded the Lavister men. “I will kill her if you do.”
Nicholas’ release on her arms gave Madelayne the freedom to start swinging the stick again and she did, aiming for his head. He was able to grab the stick with his free hand and yank it away from her, tossing it well away.
Panicked, Madelayne grabbed at his arm, trying to scratch him, fighting him every step of the way as he tried to drag her off. She was terrified of what would happen if he got her alone so she threw her body weight down, trying to dislodge his grip on her, but he ended up releasing his arm around her neck and grabbed her arms instead.
He pulled, she dragged, and the Lavister soldiers followed at a distance, fearful of intervening because they were afraid de Dalyn would follow through on his threat and try to kill Lady St. Hèver if they did. No one wanted to explain that to Sir Kaspian.
Meanwhile, Madelayne was in the fight for her life. It had been reduced to this, a brutal struggle she knew she couldn’t win. It was strength against strength and she knew she couldn’t match him. Nicholas was dragging her towards the stables where there were nooks and crevices to be hidden from view, places where he could do terrible things to her if he wanted to. But Madelayne just couldn’t believe the soldiers of Lavister would let it come to that. This was her fight but, in a sense, it was everyone’s fight. What Nicholas had done affected them all. Throwing herself to the ground to try and stop his momentum, she finally turned towards the soldiers who were following at a distance.
“Help me!” she cried.
That prompted the men into action. The lady’s request could not be denied. Nicholas, seeing the soldiers advancing, and several with weapons, tried to grab Madelayne around the neck again but she wouldn’t let him. She put her hand on his face, pushing him away, digging her dirty fingers into his eyes. When she did that, he abruptly lost his grip because she had nearly blinded him. He growled angrily as she yanked herself free from his grip.
As she backed away, and a few Lavister soldiers put themselves between her and her attacker, Nicholas suddenly lurched forward with a yelp of pain and ended up on his knees. Standing behind him with a sword in his hand, to everyone’s shock, was a sight none of the Lavister people ever thought to see. Out of the bottle and into the light, an avenging angel had appe
ared.
“Thomas!” Madelayne cried.
Thomas looked like hell. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, and even from where he stood, the alcohol could be smelled. He stood there unsteadily, his gaze on Nicholas as he spoke to Madelayne.
“Someone said you might need help,” he said, his voice hoarse and harsh. “What did he do to you, Madelayne? Why is he dragging you across the bailey?”
Madelayne had never felt so much relief in her life. She opened her mouth to reply when there was a shout from the gatehouse and everyone turned to see men bearing tunics of Edward charging in on familiar mounts.
Dust kicked up, dogs barked, and men stepped aside so they would not be trampled. The incoming party was very familiar and Madelayne recognized the man in the lead in particular. Her heart leapt into her throat and tears filled her eyes at the realization that her husband had unexpectedly arrived. Kaspian had returned, just in the nick of time.
“Kaspian!” she cried.
Kaspian was already off his horse, sword in hand as he charged the group surrounding Nicholas, who was still on his knees. Kaspian was torn between his wife, who was muddy and obviously agitated, and the knight on his knees. It was a perplexing situation, made worse by Thomas standing there with a sword in his hand, the tip bloodied. Kaspian had no idea what he was looking at so his attention moved to his nearly-hysterical wife.
“What goes on here?” he demanded.
Madelayne was already in tears but she had to tell Kaspian what she knew. Tears wouldn’t stop her. His appearance was nothing short of a miracle and for a woman who had never had much use for God, she was coming to think that God, in fact, might have had some use for her. In His mercy, He had sent Kaspian just when she needed him most.