Izlyn couldn’t help but be afraid of her brother. She’d been afraid of him all her life and it was difficult to change the innate behavior. She knew, however, that Keller and Gart and the other English knights would never allow anything to happen to her, so in that respect, she wasn’t afraid. But the thought of Gryffyn naturally had her fearful. She couldn’t help it.
Chrystobel knew that. It made her fearful, too, no matter how much she told herself otherwise. She hugged her sister, kissing her on the top of her blond head.
“We will never fear him again,” she said softly. “But if he does happen to come to us, then we will never allow him to hit us again, do you hear? Gryffyn only means harm, Izzie. If he were to come to us again, then it would be to kill us and we cannot allow that, can we?”
Izlyn shook her head, moving away from her sister and boosting herself up into the window so she could see the battle outside from a better angle. There was a lot of fighting down below, pockets of men trying to kill each other. She could see Sir Rhys near the postern gate with his double swords and as she watched, he cut a man in half. Izlyn clearly saw two pieces of the man fall to the ground. Shocked, Izlyn turned to her sister and pointed out of the window.
“Sir Rhys!” she exclaimed. “He kill… killed a man in half!”
Chrystobel went to the window to see what had her sister so shocked, but she wasn’t able to discern what, exactly, Izlyn was talking about. Izlyn’s speech was growing better by the day but she couldn’t quite make sense out of killing a man in half.
Still, it was ominous and violent out in the bailey. She and Izlyn continued to watch as men fought, and men died, and somewhere in the process of watching, she realized that men were coming away from the gatehouse, rushing over towards the kitchen yard, which she couldn’t quite see because it was just out of her line of sight. In fact, she could see Rhys coming out of the stable yards, moving for the kitchen as well, followed shortly by Gart, his big bald head reflecting what little light there was.
All of them seemed to be heading towards the kitchens but they stopped just short of the kitchen yard. Everyone seemed to be hovering, waiting and watching, and Chrystobel had no idea what they were looking at, but whatever it was certainly had their attention. In fact, they were now starting to turn towards the keep. She could clearly see the movement of their directional focus. Curious, she strained to catch a glimpse of what they were looking at. Then, through the rain and wind, she heard something.
Someone was yelling at the door of the keep. It was a loud, angry bellow. Concerned, she climbed down off the window sill.
“Someone is at the door,” she told Izlyn. “I must see who it is.”
Izlyn scampered after her, following her sister as they moved to the master’s chamber where there was a window that had a much better view of the keep entry. Chrystobel moved a stool next to the window, which was a bit tall for her, and stood on it, looking down at the entry. What she saw startled her to the bone.
Her eyes widened at the sight of Gryffyn holding a knife to Keller’s throat. Gryffyn had Keller by the hair, the dagger aimed just beneath Keller’s right ear. It was Chrystobel’s worst nightmare and she shrieked, drawing Gryffyn and Keller’s attention upward. They both saw her in the window. Keller was the first one to yell to her.
“Do not open the door!” he boomed.
Chrystobel burst into tears as Gryffyn kicked Keller in the back, causing the man a good deal of pain. Gryffyn yelled up at her.
“If you want your husband to live, you will open the door,” he shouted. “Do you hear me? Open this door or your husband will die!”
Chrystobel staggered away from the window, toppled off the stool, and fell to the ground. Izlyn ran forward to help her sobbing sister, but Chrystobel was nearly hysterical. Izlyn, unable to get a coherent word from her sister, thrust herself up into the window, gazing down on the horrible scene.
Gryffyn yelled at her, too, as Keller bellowed in unison. One was telling her to open the door while the other one was telling her to keep it bolted. Gryffyn was so frustrated that he nicked Keller’s neck with the dagger, causing bright red blood to pour. Izlyn watched, her eyes as wide as trenchers, as Rhys and Gart and William tried to move up behind Gryffyn.
The English knights were stalking him but Gryffyn saw them coming and made a point of turning Keller around so they could see the blood flowing from the man’s neck. With the knights focused on Keller and Gryffyn, one of the Welsh rebels managed come up behind Wellesbourne and nick him in the torso with a short Welsh blade. It would have been worse had William not seen the man move from the corner of his eye. As it was, he had a few seconds to move away and attempt to defend himself.
Bedlam followed as more Welsh moved upon the knights and soon the three of them found themselves in serious combat as Gryffyn held Keller at knifepoint at the keep entry. In the bailey of Nether, chaos and terror reigned.
Izlyn fell out of the window much the way her sister had, shocked and horrified at what she had seen. She looked at Chrystobel, who was now picking herself up off of the floor. Chrystobel, in fact, seemed to be calming a great deal as she reached out to grasp her sister.
Chrystobel’s face was pale, her hands shaking, but her expression was something Izlyn had never seen before. There was an intensity beyond anything Izlyn believed her sister to be capable of. Somehow, someway, Chrystobel had calmed herself to the broad point of determination. Hysterics would not save Keller. She had to keep her head about her if she was going to be of any use. With that in mind, Chrystobel focused on Izlyn.
“Listen to me, Izzie,” she said, grabbing her sister by both arms. “Gryffyn is here. Did you see him?”
Izlyn nodded, terrified. “There is… blood.”
Chrystobel couldn’t think about that. All she could focus on doing what was necessary to save their lives. That is what it came down to now; her survival, or Gryffyn’s. She had to make sure it would not be Gryffyn.
“He will kill Keller if we do not open the keep to him,” she said to Izlyn. “But the only reason he wants to come inside the keep is to get to you and to get to me. He wants to kill us. Do you understand?”
Izlyn nodded fearfully, her eyes welling, but Chrystobel shook her gently. “Nay,” Chrystobel said firmly. “No tears. We do not have time. We cannot be afraid anymore. We must save Keller and we must kill Gryffyn. We have no choice. All of those years that he beat us, we never fought back, but tonight that will change. Tonight, we must fight back. If we do not, all of our happiness will be destroyed. We will be destroyed, and I am not ready yet to die. Are you?”
Izlyn shook her head. “N-nay,” she whispered.
Chrystobel drew in a long, fortifying breath, thinking of what had to happen. The time had come for her to save herself, her husband, and her sister, and she would not fail. It was time for her to take a stand against a man who had spent most of his life beating on helpless women, knowing they wouldn’t fight back.