A Knight's Vow Part 7

scattered here and there, then began his a.s.sault. He hugged the side of the hall and made his way carefully.

No one stopped him.

The hall doors were open, and he walked inside as if he had every right to. The smell alone almost

knocked him flat. Once his eyes had ceased to burn from the smokey interior and a few of his wits had returned to him, he noticed something else odd.

There were no men sleeping on the floor.

If he hadn't been unnerved before, he was now.

He knew he had no choice but to search the keep and there was no better place to start than the kitchen.

He made his way there carefully. The stench of that place was worse, if possible, than the rest of the hall.

There was only a pair of scrawny lads there, sleeping on the floor, apparently quite overcome with weariness. William retreated silently.

He made his way back into the great hall, found a stairwell and climbed it to the upper floor of the keep. He crept down the pa.s.sageway and peered into a large solar and a small chamber. Both were devoid of all but the most rude and rough bits of furniture. Aside from a single, drunken knight sprawled in a pa.s.sageway, William found no other bodies.

And then a most unsettling thought occurred to him.

Had he been antic.i.p.ated?

And then an even more unsettling thought occurred to him.

What if his father was now encircling the chapel with his men?

William thumped back down the stairs, ran through the empty great hall, threw open the doors and

crossed the empty courtyard. He was not stopped, saw no soul, and that only added to his fear. By the

saints, if he had left Julianna behind in danger when he'd thought the danger was in front of him... It was only when he reached the gates that he found himself skidding to a halt. He gaped at the sight in front of him and realized just how seriously he'd miscalculated his father's deviousness. He was, quite frankly, amazed that the man had stopped downing his ale long enough to conceive a plan this foul. William felt the point of his sword falling downward until it was stopped by the dirt at his feet.

Ah, by the saints, he hadn't planned for this.

"Look you what I found outside my walls," Hubert drawled. "Three little ruffians bent on mayhem."

William looked at Julianna as she stood next to his father with her glorious hair caught firmly in the

b.a.s.t.a.r.d's hand. She looked at him, then closed her eyes and winced as Hubert tightened his fist.

Peter and the priest were being held by others of his sire's guard. Even his horses had become prisoners.

"We came to help ye, my lord," Peter squeaked, then he was cuffed into silence.

"He needs all of that he can have," Hubert sneered. "Why Artane thought you could hold this land is beyond me." William looked at his father and could scarce believe he'd been sired by the fool. William put his shoulders back. His character had been shaped by his grandsire and his uncles and they were the finest of men. Their blood also ran through his veins. Not for the first time, he was very glad his father had departed Artane after William's birth and left him behind in his grandsire's care.

Hubert gestured negligently to one of his men. "Kill him," he said.

William watched a crossbow be lifted, and he cursed. He'd known it. Hadn't he known it? The one thing

he could not possibly defend against and that was what he faced. He wondered fleetingly if he could possibly dodge the bolt.

What would become of Julianna otherwise?

The man took aim.

A movement startled William. He looked to Julianna to find that she had elbowed his father full in the

nose. The man released her with a howl and clutched his face. Then Julianna prodded the bowman with something held in her hand. He screamed, then fell to the ground, senseless and drooling.

"Stun gun," she said proudly.

Then Hubert struck her full across the face and sent her sprawling on the ground. William roared. He cut down five of his father's men before they knew what he intended. The remaining five threw down their weapons and backed away. William would have been pleased with himself, and with the hasty release of his squire and priest, but he turned his attentions back to his sire and caught an un.o.bstructed vision of his lady who was now back on her feet.

With his father's knife to her throat.

"It would seem," his father said tightly, "that I have something you want."

William stabbed his sword into the dirt at his feet and placed both hands on the hilt.

"You cannot win, Father," William said, his chest heaving. "Release her."

"Choose," Hubert returned. "The wench or the keep."

William wouldn't have been more surprised if his father had reached out and clouted him on the nose.

"But-"

"Choose!" his father shouted. "The wench or the keep! I'll not be left with naught for all my trouble!"

William considered the odds of slaying his father before his sire slew Julianna, but knew almost

immediately that such a thing was beyond possibility. He'd already made good use of his own knife by burying it to the hilt in a fallen knight's eye. He could retrieve his sword and heave it at his sire, true, but 'twould be just his luck that his father would use Julianna as a s.h.i.+eld.

Julianna s.h.i.+fted with her stun gun in her hand, and William stepped forward instinctively. "Nay," he said, shaking his head.

"Do not," his sire commanded, pressing the blade more firmly against her neck. A small trickle of red crept down her throat. Julianna lowered her arm, closed her eyes, and swallowed convulsively. William closed his eyes briefly and saw in his mind the pitiful pile of stones behind him. It was his birthright, a legacy he could pa.s.s down to his children, a final gesture of love from a man he had loved with all his heart. It meant security, steadiness, a place of his own-all the things he had never had the whole of his adult life.

Then he opened his eyes and looked at the woman held captive in his father's foul embrace. She had opened her eyes and was now looking at him with absolutely no expression on her face. That alone told him that she was trying very hard not to force him into a decision.

Then she hiccuped.

It came close to slitting her throat for her.

"Daft wench," his father muttered, s.h.i.+fting the blade in his hand.

William smiled in spite of himself and, as he did, he realized the truth of the matter. His home was before

him. In truth, if he'd wanted a pile of stones of his own, wouldn't he have found one by now? Apparently he was destined to go about without ties.

Save for the one he intended to make with the woman standing before him now hiccuping madly.

Nay, there had been little need for thought. If the choice was between Julianna or the crumbling wreck behind him, there was no choice to be made.

"Take it," William said, jerking his head toward the hall. "Take your blade from my lady's neck and seek out your comforts within. But remove your steel carefully, Father. You'd not like your death otherwise."

Hubert looked at him narrowly. "Your word that the hall 'tis mine?"

"Aye," William said simply.

"Vow it."

"Oh, by the saints," William said in disgust. "Take the b.l.o.o.d.y pile of stones. I'll not trouble you further for it. Give it to your other son. If you can find him to foist it upon after you've had done with it."

"Rolfe is a fine-"

"Drunkard and a fool," William finished for him. "Aye, his life is a fitting legacy for your own. I'm certainhe'll be quite happy to see what you have for him.""I never would have given it to you," Hubert snarled.William shrugged. His elder brother was no doubt lying in some deserted corner of a village, reeking of wine and whatever else he had found to imbibe. The only thing that would have surprised William would have been to find his brother alive and well. Nay, Hubert would not find him to gift him anything.

"Vow it," Hubert repeated stubbornly. "Vow you'll leave me in peace and never return."

William inclined his head. "I vow that I'll leave you in peace and never return. Now, release my lady."

Hubert looked to be considering something foul. William looked at his father dispa.s.sionately and shook

his head.

"I wouldn't."

His father s.h.i.+fted-the first sign of nervousness William had seen in him.

"Think you I can kill with my sword alone?" William asked pleasantly. "I a.s.sure you, Father, that my time

spent in the company of honorless mercenaries was not wasted. I can call to mind half a dozen ways to end your life-very painfully, I might add-without putting my hand to my sword."

"You gave me your word you'd leave me be," Hubert said, but there was a quaver in his voice.

"Aye, if my lady comes into my arms unharmed," William said calmly, as if he had an indefinite amount of time to discuss the matter-and as if his heart wasn't beating in his throat with the force of a dozen heavy fists. By the saints, all it would take was the slightest pressure and her throat would be cut. Her b.l.o.o.d.y hiccups were nigh onto seeing to that by themselves. Her lifeblood would spill from her and there wouldn't be a revenge vile enough to remedy that.

Hubert considered. Then he lifted his knife away. Before William could move, he shoved Julianna toward

William. She stumbled and fell facedown in the dirt at William's feet.

But at least she was free. William pulled her up and into his arms. He couldn't look at her. He'd just traded his inheritance for her and he d.a.m.n well didn't want to see revulsion on her face. He looked at Peter.

"There's another horse inside the gates. Fetch it."

"But-" Hubert protested.

"Payment for your unchivalrous treatment of your future daughter," William said pointedly. "Unless you'd