Page 84 of The Daughters of Avalon
Half the fields were scorched. The other half lay fallow. The roads in and out of the parklands were blocked. The colors of the morning were gray, brown and black—the colors of the land and sky and the aura surrounding Stephen’s camp.
Fortunately, Morwen did not repeat her attack, and no doubt, that unexpected feat ofmagik, fueled by her rage, had depleted her precious birds. It would take her years to breed so many.
When he saw her, Malcom took Elspeth by the hand, tugging her close, and drawing her under his arm. She could feel his exhaustion in the weight of the arm he’d placed about her shoulders. “Go to bed, love. You should sleep,” he said, and then he frowned, realizing only now that her handfasting ribbon was gone. He lifted her hand, examining her wrist. “You took it off?”
Elspeth nodded, thinking perhaps now would be a good time to explain what she had done. At least then, if he was going to be angry, she could bear the worst all at once—or then, finally, perhaps, he might prefer to be rid of her, and send her back to her mother in tears.
She opened her mouth to speak but then he shushed her and said, “Go to bed. We’ll talk when you’re rested.”
“I would go if you go,” she entreated, brushing a hand across the small cleft in his chin. Her heart broke for the turmoil she spied in his eyes. “What good will you be to your men without sleep, my love. I feel certain my mother has exhausted her efforts for the time being.” Certainly she had, if Elspeth’s exhaustion was any indication. She was weary to her bones. A bit of sleep would do them both good, and this siege promised to last long enough to warrant keeping them on their toes.
He sighed, drawing her into his arms, holding her tight. Elspeth laid her head on his chest, and said, “We go together, or I stay. But you know they would summon you at once should they need you.”
It was a long, long moment, before Malcom said, “Very well. Go. I’ll follow. I need only let my men know where I’ll be.”
Elspeth nodded. She kissed him on the cheek, and then turned and made her way down the ladder. She was halfway down when there was a sudden horn blast…
She heard Malcom’s cursing. “For the love of?—”
“What is it?” Elspeth demanded, her heart filling with dread as she scrambled back up.Goddess, please, no more birds!Herlegs trembled as she re-ascended the ladder, and, she tried to summon the last of her reserves as she climbed.
Wide eyed, Malcom turned to take her by the hand and drew her up and back onto the ramparts.
Elspeth’s heart leapt against her ribs at the sight that greeted her…
Beyond the burning mass of dry-stacked birds, beyond the blackened fields, beyond Stephen’s encampment, thousands of armed men approached in formation, flying banners of every color—many, many unrecognizable to Elspeth. They approached from the north, west and east.
David.
He’d come… and despite that she knew she would have to answer for her meddling, Elspeth nearly swooned in relief.
David had come!
Within moments, tents began to collapse, deflating one by one, and the siege army began to disperse, like ants scurrying at the poke of a stick. Malcom turned to look at her, and said with an unmistakable note of relief, “Elspeth… by chance, have you something to do with this?”
Eyes wide and stinging, Elspeth nodded.
And rather frown, Malcom grinned at her. “God’s truth, ’tis the second most welcome sight I have spied in all my life.”
Elspeth felt a rush of relief. “What would be the first?”
If possible, his grin widened until she could see all his straight, white teeth. “Any day I set eyes upon my beautiful wife,” he said, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly.
Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.—Shakespeare
“Let’s go!”snaps Eustace. “Or better yet, stay,” he says rudely. “But if you do, you will find yourself in David’s hands and I warrant he is no disciple of witches. Need I remind you how he persecuted your mother?”
Despite the command, I linger, furious over the turn of events. So, they say, “Never kill the messenger.” And ’tis an unspoken diplomacy of war. But I say, “If the messenger be my own, I should do what I will.”
Somewhere out in that field lies a little boy, eyes plucked out of his skull…
No one thwarts me.
No one.
And yet, for the love of my own daughter, this north man has dared. After all is said and done, I will crush his bones like dried leaves beneath a pestle, and my daughter will weep tears of blood.
As men rush to heed Eustace’s commands to abandon this ill-planned siege, I bide my time, once more opening my “gift,” if only to remind myself.
