chapter 47

Tristan watched Sapphire sleep. A glance out the window told him it was almost dawn. He was tempted to wake Sapphire up to make love, but he had already done so thrice, he didn’t want her to be too exhausted upon waking. She looked so serene, so very peaceful. Because of her he felt peaceful, because of her he felt. She was everything he didn’t want but was fortunate enough to be blessed with. She made him very happy. Tears stung his eyes, something that did not happen for the past seventeen years. Tristan spoke in a broken whisper as he cupped the side of her face.

“You make me very happy. You’re beautiful and kind, and loving. You love me despite my many flaws and I pray to God I don’t hurt you and I can love you in return, I pray with everything in me that I can. But I am afraid that it may either take a good amount of time or simply will not be.”

Tristan watched her sleep, simply not wanting to leave. He always wanted her with him. A feeling of foreboding arose within him. What or why was the question. He prayed the weather would prove to be better today, he couldn’t have the men growing lax. A new day, new tasks lay ahead. He also needed to go hunting, cook was low on meat. With these thoughts running through his mind, Tristan began to wash and then dress for the day.

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“Faster. Focus.” The words were followed by a clashing of swords.

“You mustn’t grow lax.”

Sapphire let out an exhausted breath. Her muscles ached for relief. Raising her sword high above her head, she blocked another one of her uncle’s attacks.

“We need you to learn how to wield two swords at once.”

“Aye. I know how to wield two swords at once, but I cannot defend myself with two swords at once.” Sapphire said distractedly as she landed a kick to Lord Rivers shin.

“That is good, but not very useful. You need to be able to attack as well as defend with both swords. We shall begin that on the morrow, as well as your target practice. I think what we did today is enough.” Lord Rivers said, returning his sword to the shelf by the wall.

Sapphire thanked The Lord for the reprieve to her muscles. She had been training with her uncle for five hours now. She was exhausted. A hot bath would do her a great deal of good. And maybe some sleep. Definitely some sleep. The reason of not getting enough sleep the previous night had Sapphire growing warm. Thankfully, her uncle didn’t notice.

“I will have a hot bath send up towards your room, darling. After your bath, make sure to eat something, you have yet to break your fast.”

“Thank you, Uncle John and I shall.” Sapphire said. She pulled away her tunic from her body, it stuck to her like a second skin, not to mention she smelled. Sapphire warily made her way above stairs. It was almost time for the noon meal. Her uncle had worked her harder than normal, then again, every new day would be more difficult than the last. Her uncle had made certain of it. Reaching her chambers, Sapphire removed her tunic and then her breeches, making her way towards the bathing chamber. She smiled gratefully as she saw the steaming tub. A nice soak was well welcomed.

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“Thank God it stopped snowing! Snowed for three continuous nights.” Duncan grumbled looking at the pile of snow.

Alexander grunted in agreement.

“You two, stop talking and start sparring.” Tristan called from across the bailey.

He continued to spar against Gerald, both men using two swords. Sapphire had taken out his stitches earlier that morning. He was glad he was a quick healer, not being able to do anything, along with Sapphire’s constant worrying…

Tristan smiled at the thought of his wife. She had even managed to make him don warmer clothing. Two swords aimed towards his head, had all thoughts leaving his mind other than the instinct to survive.

Tristan blocked blow after blow, Gerald had gained in speed. Tristan jumped back, bringing one sword to Gerald’s side while the other went to his shins.

“Shite!”

Tristan grinned sheepishly as he stared at the slight scrap to Gerald’s side. He hadn’t intended on hurting the other man. It seemed as if instinct had taken over.

“Shall we practice wielding two swords as if they are individuals?”

Gerald nodded his head. He wanted to wield a sword like Tristan.

“It won’t come easily. You will have to practice hard, and it will take time.” Tristan warned.

“All good things take time, my lord.”

Tristan smiled before continuing. “Since you already know how to fight with your right arm, we need you to be just as good with your left. Once you have mastered the sword with your left arm, you can start wielding it with both arms and then slowly begin to move them in opposite directions. The skill may take years to master but you must not be discouraged.”

“How long did it take you, my lord?”

“Three years.”

“How many summers were you, if I may ask?”

Tristan stayed silent for such a long time Gerald was afraid he wouldn’t answer, but then he did.

“I was fourteen summers.” Tristan said quietly.

Gerald stared stunned at Tristan’s retreating form. Fourteen summers was very young to be able to master two swords. Gerald knew Tristan had begun to train from an early age, but how early? Gerald also knew wielding two swords as if they were wielded by two separate people but in reality were one person, would take a person no less than five to ten years. And yet Tristan had taken only three years and at such a tender age. He had to be eleven upon starting and had to have mastered the sword earlier than that. Gerald shook his head, there was much about his lord he needed to learn.

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Damn that wench to the pits of hell. He couldn’t wait to see her there, burning the way she deserved. Andrew thought with contempt. He was freezing and he did not fancy losing his toes. Not only did she summon him as if he were some dog, but demanded he change their entire plan to fit her needs, all based on whim! He was furious! But it would all be over soon. She would have her bloody revenge while he would have his coin, and then they both could rot in hell together. She deserved being there no more than he. The lady thought herself superior!

“Jack!” Andrew bellowed inside the small home he was given to live in. Even a dog was more faithful than he. The laird had given him food and shelter when they thought him vulnerable and at his weakest. That simply had been their mistake. There was no room in his heart for guilt or remorse. It would teach the laird and his people to not be so trusting, that is, if they survived. As for him, he would need to run. There was not an ounce of doubt in his black heart that lord Knight would survive.

“Aye?” Jack asked as he entered the room Andrew stood waiting, lost in thought.

“Where are the men?”

“They are under here. Getting aggressive.” Jack added nervously.

“The plan has changed, we attack on the morrow. At noon.”

“On the morrow? Tis snow outside. It will leave tracks. We will be followed easily.”

“I ken. But the wench canna wait. She called me earlier to tell me to have the attack done within the week.”

“The men will be glad.”

“I ken.” Andrew ran a hand down his face. How was he to take her away without leaving a trail for the laird to follow? The laird was a shrewd man. He would know right away. Andrew needed to think of a plan which would not lose him his head.

“Why at noon? Why not at first light?”

“At noon most of the men rest. It will give us an advantage. We cannot attack at first light because I have a task to do which requires day light. Or perhaps…” Andrews mind began to swirl with ideas.

“Jack, who guards her ladyship?”

“I think Sir Alexander and Sir Gerald.”

“Two of his best men. Do you ken the laird will leave one or both the knights with her?”

“Both.”

Andrews mind looked at the possibilities from every angle. If he were to lead the attack at first light, the laird would have the advantage. That was their time to train. But if he were to attack at noon, they would be tired from practice as well as torpid from the food in their bellies. That would be the best opportunity for him. He could put his part of the plan into action before noon.

“Jack, have the men assemble in the forest before first light. With the snow, no one should go in the forest. Then, when the guards change shifts for the noon meal, have the men attack. Once the battle is well underway, come find me. I should be behind the castle. If you canna find me, look towards the third tree behind the castle, I shall leave a message. The message will tell you when to have the men retreat.”

“Aye, but what must ye do?”

Andrews’s mouth curled into a sneer.

“Tis nothing I desire to do.”

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Corraine tested the chains in the wall, her heart pumping in anticipation. She had her knives laid out as well as the torches lit. Everything she had worked so hard for the last several years would finally reap their fruit. She could almost taste her victory. The chill which clung to the caves did not bother her, nor did the numbness which crept along her hands. She was too blind in her false victory, in her plan to succeed. Corraine paused in examining her knives, she would need a whip as well she mused.

Her blood singed with the need for vengeance, and she would have it soon. She would make Tristan suffer for causing her such misery. The boy had caused her nothing but pain from the day he was born. He had a lot to account for. She would extract her revenge slowly, slowly and painfully. No one knew the location of these caves, and even if they did, they did not know their way around them, she was perhaps the only few who did. Once she was done playing with her new toy, she would wrap her bundle and present her gift.

Corraine thought of her poor son dying so young. Yes this would do nicely. It would be the ultimate revenge. She felt giddy as she stared at the walls of the cave. This cave had felt her own. It made her feel peaceful.

“He was to be lord of the castle. He would have made a wonderful lord. He was so very handsome.” Corraine spoke to the cave walls as if they could hear her, understand her. And perhaps they could.

A faraway look came in her eyes as she continued to speak softly.

“He was a good, darling child. Always listening to his father and trying to please his mother.” Love, an emotion which looked foreign on Corraine’s otherwise hateful features, filled her face. For a moment one would think her incapable of the vile acts she had carried out.

“He was a brave lad as well. Never ran to me with nightmares, never disturbed his father. Who so ever met him fell in love with him, he was a natural charmer. My sweet, loving child. He would quietly practice running the castle, not spend his hours playing with animals. He understood his purpose. If I said something is not allowed, he would never question me, quietly obeying. Until he came along.” Gone was the loving, adoring smile replaced with an expression filled with such loathing and hatred one were to think she was incapable of any other emotion. Her hatred was a tangible force, poisoning the strongest of minds. Heartless murderers would seem tamed compared to her.

“HE RUINED EVERYTHING!” She was screaming now, a crazed look upon her face, her eyes filled with insanity.

“My loving boy stopped listening to me, all because of him! He began to play with horses and other animals which were beneath him! He began talking to the filthy villagers! He started to wield a sword, he stopped behaving like the lord he was taught to act like! All because of him! Tristan.” Corraine spit the name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“He corrupted my sweet angel. He taught him to be a naughty boy. My sweet child would never have sweets, because of Tristan he began. Every bad trait that vile child tried to teach my sweet angel, until he killed him. Such a painful and horrible death my sweet child had to endure. His bones were crushed! The healer had said he was alive when his bones were being broken. He felt everything! There was so much blood everywhere. BLOOD!” She screeched. For a moment she looked lost, broken. Like someone who had suffered a great deal of grief and couldn’t bear to handle her burden much longer, she was tired and so very alone. But once she lifted her face, any pity would be gone from an onlooker. There was adulterated loathing and hatred so venomous it would have broken the hardest of rocks. Her eyes were red due to her tears, but her person inspired no sympathy, only pity.

“I will make you go through so much pain Tristan Treyvon Knight. So much pain, you will beg for death which should have been rightfully yours years ago.”

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