A Daughter's Love - Book 2 The Frencolian Chronicles (complete)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chatelain's gaze swept past the walls, down the mountainside and into the dense woods, a mixture of brown trunks and sparse undergrowth all misty with budding and grown green.

His long-sight was not clear, and he narrowed his eyes as though to focus on the slight movements he sensed rather than saw in the woods. The absence of bird song was unnatural.

The sky awakened and morning mist glowed yellow as the sun ruptured through clouds beyond distant mountains in the East.

A verse from the Bible came to Chatelain's mind and he spoke it, out loud, "I will call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised; so shall I be saved from mine enemies."

Josh moved silently along the battlements, passing the watching soldiers, and as Chatelain turned, he handed him a large mug of hot broth.

"The child's fever has lifted," the monk spoke with pride. He knew Jobyna had a strong constitution but it was gratifying to bask a little in the success of his cures.

"She will live," Chatelain said, sleepily, knowing to whom the praise should go. He jerked to his full height. "How's your eyesight, Josh? Look at the top line of the woods. Do you see anything?"

"Yes, soldiers; Frencolians, of course." He frowned, as though puzzled, and said, "It's too quiet."

Chatelain sipped the broth, then blew on it and asked, "What do you mean —too quiet?"

"The gates and the walls. There's not a man in sight. They wouldn't all be sleeping."

Ruskin had also realized the transgressors had not been sighted since the first shafts of dawn. There had been much arguing right up until midnight—shouting, cursing and accusations—but since the early hours of the morning no sounds of footsteps, or voices, had been heard on the walls. Ruskin had surveyed the scene from the top of the keep, before Chatelain had gone up. He believed the criminals were baiting him and his men into moving down into a cleverly set trap. Slow rising smoke from both gate towers spoke of life and survival.

"We can't afford to lose one man!" Ruskin said to Chatelain when he joined them in the great hall. "They know that, too." Ruskin strode back and forth.

Chatelain offered to go up on the wall to look, but Ruskin refused vehemently, "What's the hurry? Your daughter's doing very well, considering this is only the first day. We're not going to be fooled into making false moves."

However, as the morning progressed, Frencolian troops, under cover of six mantelets, swarmed up the rocky incline to the walls. Ruskin was summoned back to the battlements. To his amazement, no arrows or rocks were slung from the gates. No hot tar or boiling water was poured over the walls. At the sound of a battering ram smashing into the East Gate, Ruskin began a quick descent from the keep.

"The cowardly felons have flown," he called.

When Tristan had considered the matter seriously, he realized that King Leopold would not be so foolish as to hand over two thousand gold pieces, not without a battle.

The kidnappers guessed that if they waited too long, troops would be sent across the Strasland border and back to this fortress, thus blocking off their escape passage.

Even if they could hold a siege until their food ran out, the king's troops would eventually win. Tristan realized his forty men would be unable to keep at bay the hundreds, indeed, thousands, that the king could muster. And even if Tristan himself did capture the keep, this would be worthless if they couldn't escape with Chatelain. So, they had reluctantly conceded defeat, stealing away before dawn.

Ruskin pulled a note from the door of the gate-house and read it aloud, "Tell Chatelain that there is one thing he can count on: we'll be back for him! Next time, we will succeed! T.K.F."

Tearing the paper to shreds, in anger, Ruskin turned as a soldier yelled in terror. He ducked just in time to miss a flying arrow. The attacking troops thought they were the enemy!

"Fetch Chatelain. Hurry!" Ruskin called. "We'll need the baron's presence to convince them that the criminals have all fled."

When Chatelain arrived, a white surrender flag had been hung out over the battlements atop the gate-house.

Sir Roi, flanked by four men with long-bows trained at the battlements, stepped from under a mantelet, yelling for the leader to show himself and to order the opening of the gates. Ruskin stepped out into view with the baron beside him. At the same time, his soldiers wound up the portcullis and opened the gates.

The archers lowered their bows as Sir Roi said, "It's Chatelain! Sir Rus is with him."

For some time, chaos prevailed. The Frencolian troops were frenzied, wildly incited, expecting, indeed desiring, to battle with the traitors. Sir Keith realized their fervor and had allowed some of the knights to delegate the roads into Strasland for companies to traverse, seeking out Tristan and his bunch of rogues.

Luke and Boone were eventually permitted passage through the gates and were greeted enthusiastically by Chatelain before he strode off into the keep, leading Doctor Boone to see the patient, his dear daughter.

 "How is she, Father?" Luke asked as he breathlessly climbed the winding staircase, trying to keep close behind. The endless night following by the four-hour ride had exhausted him. 

Waiting on the cold, bleak mountainside with no food or drink, had wearied him. He was chilled to the bone. The wordless way his father strode on brought fear like a lump to the back of Luke's tongue.

The fire burned brightly in the small stone chamber. Jobyna lay face down on a wooden bench in the middle of the room. She was half-covered with a coarse linen sheet, but thin, soft pillows supported her injured shoulder and head. Her thick coppery braid was the only covering on her back, and Luke gasped at the sight of the purple bruising, across her back and up her neck.

Boone dropped his bag, staring at the raw wounds, uncovered and angry-looking. He touched the gouge on the inside of Jobyna's forearm, taking his finger to his nose to smell the tacky substance. He gently pressed around the wound on her shoulder.

"Good. Very good." Boone said as he wiped his hands on a damp cloth.

"Good?" Luke whispered, his eyes swimming with tears. He felt strange and the room swam before his eyes.

The strong arms of his father supported him and he allowed himself to be lowered to sit on a bench.

"Mother... she knows about Jobyna?" Chatelain asked as he sat beside his son. Luke nodded. The father asked many more questions and Luke nodded, not completely comprehending.

His eyes were for his sister alone.

When Josh brought bread and soup, Luke could barely swallow and the thick liquid seemed to have no taste.