But their joy in such things would have to wait. Grasping both women and trying to keep them away from the sight of Gryffyn’s bloodied corpse, he directed them toward the stairs. He wanted to get them back up to their room and lock them in so he could return to chasing the Welsh from Nether. D’Einen was dead, but there was still the matter of the men he brought with him. Keller couldn’t truly celebrate the man’s elimination until everything was under control.
As they reached the steps, William entered the keep. He looked at Gryffyn with surprise, a rather gruesome sight on the floor, before calling out to Keller.
“D’Einen is dead?” he pointed to the body.
Keller paused. “Indeed he is,” he said, his gaze moving over Chrystobel. He truly wasn’t surprised by her actions. He was very proud the woman had learned to fight back. “If there is any justice in this world, it has just been served here today.”
William pondered that a moment. Of course, he wanted to know how it happened, but such details would have to wait. There were more important things at hand.
“The Welsh are leaving, Keller,” he said. “You’d better come.”
Keller looked at the man with some surprise. “Leaving?” he repeated. “Last I saw, they were battling quite strongly.”
A flicker of a smile crossed William’s lips. “I know,” he said. “But reinforcements have arrived in the form of George and Aimery. Evidently, they didn’t listen very well. They have returned early from their jaunt to Shropshire, and thank God for it.”
Keller shook his head in both frustration and approval, an odd combination. “Return early, indeed,” he grumbled. “George never was very good at telling time. Tell the man to stay away two days and he stays away one.”
“Fortunate for us,” William grinned. “Rhys just had the men open the gatehouse and another two hundred and fifty English soldiers are pouring in. It would seem that the Welsh are afraid of that.”
Keller grinned, saying a quick prayer for the early return of the Ashby-Kidd brothers. Timing was everything. He sighed heavily and waved William off.
“I will be there in a moment,” he said. “Let me settle the women first.”
William ducked out of the keep, heading into the bailey where the two hundred and fifty fresh soldiers were making short work of any remaining Welsh. Men were bottled up, chased off, and otherwise defeated.
Keller, inside the keep, continued to direct the ladies up the stairs. In truth, he could hardly believe the course the night had taken. The results were as he had hoped but the means to get there had been somewhat complex. As they hit the second floor landing, Keller paused and pulled Chrystobel into his arms once more. He just had to feel her, safe and whole, against him once more. Chrystobel clung to him.
“Are you sure you are well?” he whispered.
Chrystobel nodded. “I am,” she confirmed, gazing up into his dusky eyes. “I simply… I cannot believe it is over. I have never feared anything so much as I have feared my brother and now that he is gone… I still cannot believe it.”
Keller smiled at her. “As I said to William,” he said quietly, “if there is any justice in the world, it has happened here tonight. Your brother took everything from you – your dignity, your peace, your life. Tonight, you took it back. It was your right.”
Chrystobel thought on that a moment. “In truth, all I could think of was saving you,” she said. “I could not let Gryffyn hurt you. There was such rage when I attacked him, Keller. So much rage….”
Keller kissed her on the forehead. “That rage is gone,” he assured her. “Gryffyn is gone. You did what needed to be done to save yourself, to save me, to save Izlyn, and ultimately to save Nether. You are a brave woman, Lady de Poyer, and I am very proud to be your husband.”
Chrystobel smiled modestly, absorbing his adoration, perhaps absorbing all of the events that the night had brought. There was much to take in, much to deal with, and much to reconcile.
As Chrystobel and Izlyn retreated to the smaller chamber and bolted the door, Keller went back down to the keep entry where Gryffyn lay, blood and brains coagulating around his bashed head. Keller just looked at the man, resisting the urge to kick the corpse. For all of the terror he had caused, for the patricide had had committed, Gryffyn d’Einen deserved everything that had happened to him and more still. His evil had infected Nether Castle, creating a Netherworld that Keller had managed to bring into the light.
Keller crouched down next to Gryffyn’s body, his gaze moving over the man. After this moment had passed he would never look upon him or think of him again.
“I hope you are enjoying Hell, you worthless bastard,” he muttered. “I hope you are enjoying the real Netherworld, which I am sure is now your happy home. For all of the pain you have caused this family, I sincerely hope that Satan has a special place reserved just for you.”
With that, he stood up and walked from the keep, out into the night where the rain had started to clear up and the English were now corralling the Welsh stragglers. The stars were peering out from behind the parting clouds and he looked up at them, seeing their brightness and feeling as if the world was suddenly bright and new. No more threat, no more terror. Finally, the Netherworld was no more.
Finally, Nether Castle would know peace.
The magic of a new beginning
Epilogue
1204 A.D.
It was a bright day in August and surprisingly warm. The door to Nether’s keep was open and a balmy breeze blew through the cold stone rooms, warming them. Keller was sitting at the feasting table in the small hall, peering at an updated map of the marches he had purchased in Gloucester a few months ago. He had taken his two oldest children with him, Caledon and Stafford, and the boys had gotten into a good deal of trouble that Keller still hadn’t told his wife about. The twins reminded him a good deal of George and Aimery Ashby-Kidd in that if there was disorder to be had, those two would find it. He never thought he’d see the day when he’d have two troublemaking twins.
Even now, they were under the table trying to light the dogs’ tails on fire. He kept having to stamp on the small pieces of kindling, extinguishing the fire, before the boys could get to the dogs.
“Lads,” he finally muttered, his gaze still on the map. “If one of those dogs ignites, I will blister you both. Is that clear?”
Two blond heads popped up from underneath the table. Identical brown eyes looked at their father innocently. “We were not lighting the dogs, Papa,” Staff insisted. “We were just playing.”
Keller looked up from the map, his eyes narrowing at his six-year-old son. “I know you were playing,” he said. “You were playing with fire.”
Cal nodded his head seriously. “We were practicing, Papa.”
Keller didn’t believe his child for a minute. “Practicing what?”
Cal was animated. He stood up and raised his arms in emphasis. “When we are great knights, we will capture a castle,” he said. “We must know how to burn the drawbridge down.”