Down in the bailey, Keller, Gart, Rhys, and William stood in a quartet near the portcullis. They, too, were watching the army as it faded down the road, blending in with the rainstorm. When the last man faded off, Keller turned to his knights.
“And so it begins,” he said quietly. “D’Einen thinks he can easily retake Nether but I will assure him that he cannot. William, make sure we have a heavy presence of men around the postern gate. It is my fear that if one of the Welsh happens to break free of the passage, they will head straight for that gate to open it up. Rhys, make sure the gatehouse is secured. Once William has the postern gate secured, he will join you in the gatehouse. The walls and the gatehouse, and the postern gate, will be your domains. Make sure they are sealed. Gart, you will come with me to the kitchen. You and I will wait for the first foolish Welshmen to come through that passage.”
The knights nodded, having their assignments given to them. “How far out will George and Aimery go before they turn around and come back?”
Keller lifted a thoughtful brow. “They are undoubtedly being watched, so they must at least make a good show of heading in the direction of Hen Domen. I told them to head out six hours and then camp. My guess is that d’Einen will move upon us this day, but if not today, then tomorrow for certain. I have told George and Aimery to head back to Nether tomorrow before dawn. We must give d’Einen a chance to move, and we may need George’s reinforcements by the time they return.”
“And if d’Einen has not moved yet?”
“Then I send a messenger to George and tell him to wait until further notice,” Keller replied. “If George returns too quickly, it will spook the Welsh.”
The plan was clear and the men headed to their posts, but not before moving to the keep where their armor was held. Now that the army was gone and the fortress was bottled up, they could dress in their protection without fear of someone sending word to d’Einen. Nothing was coming into the castle and certainly nothing was going out, especially a messenger. Nether was as secure as they could make it.
Chrystobel was standing in the keep entry as the knights began to file in, heading for the armor they had stacked up in the small hall. A pair of young squires, the ones that had been part of Rhys and Gart’s troops, followed the knights from the gatehouse and began helping the men with their protection.
As the small hall became crowded with knights preparing for battle, Chrystobel and Izlyn stood in the doorway, watching the men as they put on their layers of protection – padded tunics to avoid the itchiness of the mail, which went on top of the padding. Then came a heavy neck scarf to ease the weight and irritation of the hauberk for head and shoulder protection, and then another tunic on top of that one which usually helped secure the scabbard for the broadsword.
It was quite a process although Izlyn in particular was watching the squires, who were about her age. They had mostly stayed to the gatehouse with the soldiers so she’d not seen too much of them. Now, she was watching the competent young men with interest as Gart noticed where her attention was. When she would look at Gart, he pretended to weep, jealous of her attention to the squires. Izlyn just giggled.
Chrystobel, however, was completely focused on Keller as the man efficiently dressed. He was preoccupied, his mind on what lay ahead, and Chrystobel knew he was mostly focused on Gryffyn. Certainly, there was anxiety involving the Welsh that would be coming along with Gryffyn, but Keller was focused on Gryffyn alone.
He should have killed the man the day in the great hall when he came upon Gryffyn as he prepared to kill Chrystobel and, had it not been for Gryffyn knifing him in the back, Keller was certain that Gryffyn’s life would have ended on that day. But Gryffyn had not made an easy catch or an easy kill, and Keller was tired of chasing the man. Granted, he had a new wife and a new castle that had cornered his attention, but the time had come to focus on Gryffyn once and for all. The time had come to eliminate the threat.
Rhys and William were finished dressing first, saying their farewells to Chrystobel and Izlyn as they walked past the women and headed out of the keep. The squires soon fled, having nothing else to do, and Gart eventually came to say his farewells also. He accepted a smile from Chrystobel and a kiss on the cheek from Izlyn before heading out into the driving rain with his usual stalking gait.
Finally, it became Keller’s time to say his goodbyes and as he came to stand before his wife, words seemed to fail him. He stood there a moment, gazing at her, before taking her by the hand and leading her back into the small hall and away from Izlyn’s big and curious ears. Izlyn started to follow but Chrystobel held out a hand to the girl, stopping her in her tracks. Chrystobel, too, wanted a few private moments with her husband. When they neared the feasting table, covered with maps and other things related to the administration of Nether, Keller came to a halt and lifted Chrystobel’s hand to his lips.
“I am not an eloquent man,” he admitted, kissing her fingers. “I do not know what this day or even what tomorrow will bring, but I will leave you with these words – the day I met you was the day I started to live again, Chrystobel. I was terrified of you and you know that, but I learned to overcome my fear and I am so thankful that I did. Loving you is the best thing I have ever done.”
Chrystobel’s eyes widened. “You… you love me?”
He nodded, kissing her hand again. “I do,” he murmured. “Remember what I wrote to you? When I look at you, I see all things bright and pure. I see the magic of a new beginning. Every word of it is true and I love you more than words can express.”
Tears popped to Chrystobel’s eyes and she threatened to crumble but she fought it. It was such a spiritual moment, so ripe with the glorious beauty that was love, and she wanted to savor every second of it. Keller opened his mouth and she heard angels singing. This place, this darkened Netherworld, had never heard such exquisite words uttered. Suddenly, it was a darkened place no longer. It was a place of hope.
“What you have said to me,” she breathed, watching him kiss her fingers. “I have never thought to hear those words in my life. And I love you, too, so very much. You have shown me the glory and excitement and beauty of life. Everything I ever dreamed of, I found in you.”
Keller pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply and feeling every emotion and every dream she ever had pouring into him, sustaining him. He was fortified now, more than he had ever been in his life, and he would see this task through. He would emerge the victor. There was no other alternative. Kissing her one last time, he hugged her tightly.
“Remember what I told you about staying to the keep,” he whispered. “Do not open the door no matter what you see or hear. You will only open it for me or Rhys or Gart or William. Is that clear?”
Chrystobel nodded, suddenly very fearful for Keller’s safety. “It is,” she breathed. “You will be careful.”