Page 93 of The Unwilling Bride
“For the love of God, Merrick, you have to believe me!” Henry cried as the massive door creaked open. “They’re conspiring against you—and against the king, too! Once they have Tregellas, they’re going to lead a rebellion.” He raised his shackled hands and clasped them together, pleading. “Wait for Ranulf. For God’s sake, Merrick, wait for Ranulf!”
Merrick went out without a backward glance and the door clanged shut behind him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THOUGH SHE WAS MINDFUL OF Brother Paul, who’d insisted on coming with them to Tintagel, Constance nudged her horse to a slightly faster walk as she, Ranulf, the priest and their armed escort rode through the narrow valley leading to the earl’s fortress. In the near distance she could see large stone walls whitened with lime and an arched gate flanked by square towers.
At least the weather was good; had it been otherwise, she would have had more difficulty convincing Brother Paul to let her leave the monastery. Even so, the cool breeze coming off the sea whipped her cloak about her, and poor Brother Paul, farther back on his donkey, looked as if he was shivering.
She raised her voice to call out to Ranulf, so that the knight riding in front of her could hear her above the wind and the waves crashing against the cliffs. “Those are the outer defenses?”
Ranulf let his horse drop back until he was beside her. He nodded. “That gate guards the bridge to the island.”
“It seems a very defensible place.”
“And an easy place to which to lay siege,” Ranulf answered, clearly not overly impressed. “One need only block that gate and set up a blockade, and you could starve out the garrison in a few weeks.”
Constance hadn’t considered that aspect of the location. “Then why would the earl choose such a place for a fortress?”
“Can you not guess, my lady?” Ranulf asked with a sardonic smile.
“Because King Arthur was born in Tintagel?” she ventured. Like anyone who’d been in Cornwall for more than a week, she was well versed in the tales recorded by Geoffrey of Monmouth about the legendary king.
Ranulf’s smile became more natural. “Exactly.”
“Richard wasn’t born in Cornwall.”
“No, but this place does convey a certain fame by association. Richard is an ambitious man.”
“I hadn’t considered Tintagel in that light.” She gave Ranulf a wary glance. “How ambitious is the earl? Do you think he’ll ever rebel against his brother?”
“No.”
Constance recalled her husband’s fears. “Merrick thinks he might.”
“Merrick sees danger around every bush and shrub, my lady. And in truth, given that he’s the lord of a great estate, he must be prepared for war. I have no such responsibilities, so I can afford to think of conflict only in terms of whether or not I may gain an estate. Merrick must think in terms of protecting what he already possesses.”
By now they’d reached the outer gate. Ranulf identified their party, and the gates swung open to allow them to enter. From there, it was a rather precarious ride across the narrow bridge and through yet another gate before they entered the main yard, which was a-bustle with servants and soldiers, an indication that the earl was in residence.
Brother Paul looked about him, both amazed and impressed. Meanwhile, Ranulf swung down from his horse and hurried to assist Constance, who didn’t refuse his help. She wasn’t feeling sick or dizzy, but she wasn’t about to risk swooning.
Ranulf called for a groom and issued a few brief orders to his men. He spoke to the groom when he appeared, then returned to Constance. “It seems we’ve arrived at a good time. The nobles are gathered in the hall. I was afraid Merrick might be out hunting or otherwise away from the castle.”
“Let’s not waste another moment,” Constance said, heading for the large building that had to be the hall.
As they entered, Constance paid no heed to the size of the chamber, or the banners hanging from the beams, or the tapestries. Her attention was on the group of men seated and standing near the hearth at the far end.
“Constance!”
Merrick shoved his way through the group and rushed toward her, a smile of such joy on his face, she could scarcely believe it was the same man.
And then she was in his arms, engulfed in his embrace. “Constance,” he whispered. “You’re alive! Praise God, you’re alive!”
“I suggest you loosen your hold and let her breathe,” Ranulf remarked behind them. “She’s not quite completely recovered.”
Merrick gasped and quickly let go of her.
“I have a slight ache in my head, that’s all,” Constance assured him, thrilled by this reception.
