The Strength of Baffin Page 21

  The woman’s face transformed instantly, darkening with rage. “The alderman can go straight to hell where he belongs! If he were here, I would gladly say it straight to his face.” She spat--odd thing for a woman but then again Jolin had spat in his eye once--and growled. Really, it was something between a grunt a and snarl but the woman did look murderous. “My father must well be deservedly suffering in his grave for marrying me off to such an insufferable man!”

  Tethran shifted, groaning when the back of his shoulder collided against the rough wall. He shook his head as if to clear his muddled mind. “Marry?”

  She released an exasperated breath that seemed to stretch all the way across to him. “Yes. Marry. Viktor de Gesch left me, his wife, to rot away in this pit as if I were no more than common thief.” She turned back to him, swallowing visibly. “Carlisle’s unexpected kindness kept me alive all these years. That and…”

  Tethran gazed at her. He was yet to understand all she was saying but...had she been in this gaol for over fifteen years? How had Captain Carlisle managed to assist her without attracting the alderman’s notice? And how had she survived the isolation for so long? “And what?”

  “My son.” Her gaze wavered then and he could make out tears gleaming within her eyes. “The h-hope that he might still be alive out there…keeps me going from day to day. I must live for him. Carlisle tells me Viktor did not find him and I made sure he never would. I paid those priests all I had and more to keep my son hidden. To guard him with their very lives.”

  A strange prickling inched down his aching spine and Tethran peered at her a little harder. Those blue eyes… “What priests?”

  She sighed. “Might as well tell each other our secrets, mm?” She chuckled sadly and wiped away tears. “You and I shall have many more years of each other’s company. Unless, my hope fails me.” She gazed at him a while and gave a wobbly smile. “You must be quite vengeful.”

  Tethran blinked at the sudden change of subject. “What?”

  She gestured with her chin. “Your face. Whoever did that to you must not like you very much.”

  “Your husband had his guards batter me until I lost consciousness.”

  “Oh, those bruises will heal. Believe me, I have suffered much from Viktor de Gesch’s hand to know. The scars, I mean. Have you had them long?”

  “Longer than I care to remember.” He shifted again and winced.

  “You should try not to move overmuch.” Before he knew it, she was creeping over to him, her hands gentle on his face. “Tell me, what did you not do to invite my husband’s wrath?” She spat the word husband as if it held a sour taste.

  “I almost murdered one of his guards.” Tethran was starting to wish he had killed the whoreson. “Made it worse by doing it again…and refusing to join his regiment.”

  She fingered his sore jaw delicately. “You did the right thing. He’s a corrupt man, and I fear he possesses a disposition that would change anyone he came in contact with. Believe it or not, but he hasn’t many who are truly loyal. They are only far too afraid to defy his rules.”

  Tethran recoiled as her fingers brushed beneath his swollen eye. “What is your name?”

  Her gaze flicked to his steadily. “Isabel.” Then it returned to his eye. “There’s an abscess beneath the skin. I need to slice it open to release the pus. When Carlisle visits this morn, I’ll use his blade. He comes every other day around dawn. What is yours?”

  “My…what?” Her gaze held a soothing comfort he could hardly explain.

  She eyed him wearily as if he was daft. “Your name. I told you, my name is Isabel. Isabel Gauzere. I no longer acknowledge my married appellation. Besides, Carlisle tells me I was replaced twelve years ago.”

  He could hear the pain, the palpable sorrow in her voice and supposed there was nothing wrong with exchanging names. Like Isabel had mentioned earlier, they might just be spending the rest of their lives in this dungeon together. Might… “Tethran,” he allowed. “Not a fancy name but it’s what I’ve known myself to be called all my life.”

  Isabel’s face had suddenly gone bloodless, her mouth tight and her eyes wide with what appeared to be shock. An array of emotions then flickered over her face, altering from utter astonishment to bewilderment to…joy?

  Tethran’s brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”

  Her lips moved but the rest of her body remained frozen as if she was afraid to give into a mere twitch or quiver. “You…you are Tethran?” Her throat worked and then she was across the room again, retrieving her lamp to position it closer between them. “Raise your left knee.”

  “What? Look, lady, you’re starting to act a little creepy right now.” He gritted his teeth. “I am not raising my leg. God knows I couldn’t bloody well do it even if I tried.”

  Isabel’s eyes watered at that moment, a lone tear spilling over her left lid. “Please. You must try. I must know if you are my--”

  Of for hell’s sake! “You must know if I’m your what?”

  “My son.” More tears came but she forged on before he could manage a word. “I named my son Tethran twenty-eight years ago--” Her eyes then widened. “How old are you?”

  The woman looked near to bursting but he couldn’t encourage this madness. “I’m sure it’s only a coincidence. There are likely many other men my age across Baffin with the same name. Your son, whoever he is, might be…gone.” He saw the hurt in her eyes but she would have to face up to the truth sooner or later. “The alderman, in all his glory and power, didn’t find him which might very well be because the boy had died.”

  Isabel’s eyes narrowed to slits. “My son has a birthmark below his left knee. It resembles the shape of a crescent. I saw it while I swaddled him just before sending him off to the monastery.”

  Monastery. The word sent another chill down his spine but he refused to give in to any form of false hope. Besides, he didn’t have a birthmark. He was almost certain that he didn’t, although he wasn’t quite sure if he’d never inspected the skin under his left knee before. But the determined look in Isabel’s eyes did frighten him. Just a little. A tad bit more than little.

  Before he could register what she was up to, the woman jerked his leg upwards, twisting his leg and angling her lamp nearer. Tethran howled in pain. “Bloody, blasted hell!”

  Her eyes stretched wide in her face and she stumbled backwards, falling hard on her arse. Tethran glowered. She smiled. “My god! My god… It is you.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  The priests, back when he’d been a boy, had gone to extreme lengths to keep him isolated from the other seven boys at the monastery. He’d had his very own bedchamber and often dined alone. They’d also pleaded with him to at least try to curb his wayward habits, occasionally pointing out that he was not expected to have such disapproving tendencies. They’d found fault with everything he’d done, even the way he breathed or the way he stood. They’d been strict perfectionists who’d enjoyed regularly cracking a ruler over his knuckles. But had they? Had they really enjoying it? Or had their overbearing attention been just a mask for something else? He hadn’t paid much attention to it. Not until now..

  Tethran’s gaze shot to Isabel’s, his mind whirling. Those blue eyes… Dark and sharp. Like his very own. Her hair: pure obsidian. My god, just like his--

  “You are my mother?” His voice had almost failed him. Hell, even his brain seemed to be lagging.

  Her smile widened, eyes flooding with tears. “Y-yes. I-I believe so.”

  He frowned, glancing away. He couldn’t believe it. Christ, he still hadn’t gotten over the pain that had surged up his leg when she’d twisted it. Gulping, he leaned forward and craned his neck to better inspect the birthmark, and released a shuddering breath. “You are my mother?”

  Isabel laughed then, embracing him gingerly. “Oh, Tethran… I have been waiting so long.” She choked on a sob and immediately gave way to a shower of tears. Her hands patted his face lightly, his chest, his torso…his thighs. “You�
�re alive!”

  Alive? Yes. Puzzled? Most definitely. “You…are my mother.”

  “Yes!” She was beaming with glee now. “Sweet heavens, I’ve spent sixteen years fretting over you; twenty eight tormenting years praying Viktor would never find you. And now…you’re here.” Isabel’s eyes glittered with awe. “We must get you out of here before--”

  “Wait. Wait, wait.” Tethran held both hands up, still giving his brain time to catch up. “If you are my mother, then that would mean….” He felt his brows tighten and his stomach lurch. “You mean to tell me that Viktor de Gesch is my damn father?”

  She shook her head. “Not something you had chosen yourself so pray don’t trouble yourself over it.”

  “Pray not trouble myself?” He was incredulous. Probably feeling a bit ludicrous as well. The alderman; his father? He’d discovered his parentage after twenty-eight years to find out that he shared blood with Viktor de Gesch? He’d have thought it a sick joke if Isabel hadn’t such a grave expression on her face. “Holy fucking hell!”

  Her eyes sharpened to slits, and it was then he realized his err. He was certainly in for some maternal scolding. “Kindly refrain from such colourful language in the future, Tethran. Viktor is your father and that won’t ever change. But we must get you out of here. Immediately! You are the heir to Baffin. The sole male heir. You alone can unseat him from his infernal throne.”

  “What--”

  “Hush. Listen… Someone’s coming.” She doused the lamp quickly and darkness fell around them once again. “Shh. Do not speak. Not unless we’re absolutely certain it is Carlisle.”

  Tethran ground his teeth. This sudden change in events--and his life--was much to take in at such a damnable inconvenient time. For so long he’d believed he had no family. And now… Heaven on earth! He had a mother, and she was in this stink hole just mere feet from him. He massaged his aching temples hoping the the pain would dull. But it didn’t. Instead, all he could hear was the approaching footsteps. Then, the grating sliding of a bolt and a clank and the flying of a latch. A few seconds later, the door to the gaol gave way and someone stepped inside.

  “My lady?”

  “Carlisle! Wait, allow me to light the lamp.” And again, after just a couple seconds, the room was brightly illuminated.

  The Captain leapt three steps backwards but righted himself almost instantly. “Holy hell!” His shocked expression shifted to burning rage and he rushed to Isabel. “Those fools! Are you alright, milady?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Listen--”

  “I’d specifically told the damn imbeciles to carry him to the second gaol! Jesus Christ, are you sure you are fine? Damn--”

  “Carlisle, hush!” Isabel scrambled to her feet. “Look at him. Look at his eyes. His hair. He is--”

  “Lady Isabel, he was caught after bloodying one of the guards. Two, I understand--”

  “For god’s sake, are you listening to me? He has the bloody birthmark!”

  That seemed to blow the breeze from under the captain’s wings and he faltered, frowning. “You mean..?”

  She nodded. “I checked. Right below his left knee. I checked. His name is Tethran.”

  Captain Carlisle pivoted abruptly, rushing over to stand above Tethran, his eyes searching. Then he turned to face Isabel who had now crouched at Tethran’s side. “You are certain?”

  “Yes. I can feel it. You must help us get out of here. Can’t you see? I’ve finally found away to remove Viktor from power. Baffin will be a better place without him.”

  Tethran sighed, quite tired of the exclusion from the conversation. “Stunning revelation, I must admit. I’m still quite shocked by it all. But before anything else happens, I would like a favour. I need a message be taken to--Jesus Christ!”

  Tethran howled. Not again! He watched in horror as the captain inspected the birthmark and then slowly released his leg.

  “Sorry.” The man had the gall to look fucking contrite. “I only wanted to confirm for myself. Well then--” A pleased chuckle. “I believe the alderman will get the shock of his life when he realizes just who he’d left to die in this shit hole. But in the meanwhile, milord, what is that message you would like to be delivered?”

  Tethran seethed. “No one touches my leg again, got it?” He flicked a stern yet somewhat pleading look at Isabel--his mother--and earned a compliant nod. The captain’s expression was as apologetic as it could ever be. “Good.” He sucked in a calming breath. “I need you to personally visit the Smythe’s Tavern and seek out Jolin Crymble. Tell her everything. Tell her I am alright. She’s…she’s to be my wife.” His mother’s brow arched but he ignored it. “There is also another woman that I wish to protect. She’s the reason I came to the castle in the first place. I’d rescued her. Her name is Josephine.”

  Captain Carlisle frowned. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “She’s a slender red-head, bought some time ago by one of your junior captains. McCall.”

  “McCall’s wench? Jesus Christ! He’s due to return in a day or so. That one is a bloodthirsty wretch, I tell you. I’ll send word to divert him on another mission. Until we get you out and relieve Viktor from his rule, there nothing to stop him from exacting punishment. It’s the law.”

  Isabel sighed heavily. Tethran clenched his jaws.

  “Then we’d better move swiftly. I find these laws quite repugnant.”

  * * *

  “I still can’t believe you’d been abducted from the house. Did you know I was here?”

  Jolin flashed a glance at Sinclair, who was conversing quite tearfully with his newfound sister. She was happy for them. She really was. But she couldn’t help the hollowness in her own chest. So, she turned back to face her father.

  “Yes,” he said, gulping down some cider that Mrs. Smythe had sent up for them. His face seemed weathered but all and all, he looked quite well. “You must understand that I could not afford to be seen. Besides, I knew you were well protected.” His gaze then squinted on her face. “What happened to your face? There’s a little…”

  “Nothing. I--uh, I tripped and fell. You knew I was with LeMark and Sinclair?”

  He nodded, reaching for a piece of loaf and swiping it in some gravy. “Been following them for some time now. Those boys gave me quite a crick in the side when I was younger and just a baker. A couple years ago, I received hint of some auction going on and I kept investigating it. When I stumbled upon her--Josephine--I realized I had to do something. I just hadn’t known she was the lad’s sister at all.”

  Jolin swallowed. “Tethran--LeMark--he…he’s been captured.”

  Father sighed. Loudly. “I know.”

  “You know?” Jolin felt horrified. “And you haven’t said a thing?”

  “I’ve watched you on several occasions, and realized that you must have gotten sweet on the lad, so I didn’t want to just drop the news on you like that, sweetheart. I certainly had no idea that you knew.”

  “Of course I know! Josephine told us.”

  “Well, you mustn’t worry because--”

  “Father!” She couldn’t believe this. Sinclair and his sister were probably staring at them by now but she didn’t care. “How can I not worry? How can you tell me to not worry? I-I love him.”

  Her father look stunned for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes. But you must listen to me. LeMark isn’t at all who you think he is.”

  “I know that he was cutthroat, Father. Hell, he was hired to kill you. But he told me he’s retired now and I believe him.”

  “No, no. I believe he’s--”

  “Don’t try to discourage me. It won’t work. It won’t.”

  “Lin--”

  The door flew open then and Jolin gasped. Her father sprung immediately to his feet and shoved her behind him, drawing for a blade. A tall man entered, heavily armoured. Jolin had seen him once before, that night they’d first went to the castle. Behind her, Josephine released a harsh whimper. The man strode forward, leav
ing a wide eyed Mr and Mrs. Smythe in the doorway.

  “I bring news directly from His Lordship. It is rather urgent.”

  Sinclair made a growl and Josephine gasped in a shrill shaky voice, “It’s the alderman’s captain. He’s come to take me back.”

  The captain removed his helmet and sighed as if tired. “Not that Lordship. And I haven’t come to take anyone back. Josephine, is it?”

  “Take your filthy eyes off her, you bastard!” Sinclair made to rise but only ended up grunting in pain and collapsing back on the bed.

  “Calm yourselves. I’ve brought news from His Lordship, Tethran de Gesch. He means to reassure you all that he is well. All things considered… You especially, Miss Crymble.”