The man spun on his heel, strode toward her, and thrust his face into hers.
“Do you question me, peasant?” he asked. The others gasped. Jess studied him.
“You’re not Lord Matew,” she said.
“Do you mean my pathetic weakling of a brother?” the man asked. “No! You have surprised the truth out of me just a little early. I am Master Dyved of Rocky Ford, second by minutes to my elder brother.” He paced to the covered litter and threw back the cover. Inside was a lady with the same strong jaw, and a slender man who was clearly and truly Lord Matew. Both were trussed like birds for the spit and struggling to get free. Over his gag, Matew glared up at Master Dyved, who grinned at him.
“Here is your Lord Matew. The lady, my Aunt Grace, come to be a companion for the Duchess Caitlin. But she is too old, isn’t she? Never mind. The girl can have as many servants as she wants, as my wife!” He pulled a dagger from the sheath at his hip and held it to Matew’s throat. “It is a simple matter. I marry the lady, here and now, and my brother lives. Or she refuses, he dies, and I marry her anyhow.”
“I cannot allow that,” the mistress-of-arms said stoutly, though her pale cheeks showed her shock. “Guards!”
Jess reached for a sword that was not there, but it wouldn’t have helped in any case. Master Dyved’s soldiers were still on horseback. They lowered spears and rode at the Kalb De fighters. Jess’s comrades evaded the spears. They drew their own weapons and charged.
“Kalb De!” Bainton shouted.
They must get out of the way. Jess waved the servants to the shelter of the guardhouse, moving them toward the steps down to the cellars. They used the remaining trestles leaning against the inner wall as shields. The clash of metal on metal made her blood boil to be part of the fight, but she needed to defend the noncombatants. One after another, she pushed the servants down into the cool darkness, keeping an eye on the action.
A muscular woman galloped her horse toward them. She swung out of the saddle. Jess moved to avoid her, but the soldier planted herself at the head of the steps, blocking the way. Jess and the steward hesitated in the face of her sword’s sharp metal point.
Across the courtyard, the mistress-of-arms sidled around the bloody scrimmage. Jess saw what was in her mind. She meant to rescue Lord Matew if she could. He was the Heir’s intended, and as such was under their protection from the moment he had entered Kalb De. But Master Dyved saw her, too. He turned and crouched into a fighting stance.
“With me, Kalb De!” she cried. The defenders did their best to fend off the invaders, but it was little use. The fight was ugly and brief. The ruffians were heavily armed and fully armored, leaving few points of flesh for the defenders to attack. In a terrifyingly short time, the invaders disarmed most of the soldiers and killed two of them. The mistress-of-arms lay on the courtyard cobbles, bleeding from a shoulder wound. Dyved stood over her, sword at her throat, his eyes alight with triumph.
“I hold this castle. My wizard has stopped your falcon scouts from sending their birds for help. No one will come or go. I will remain here to meet my new in-laws upon their return from my family’s pathetic castle.” His smile was cruel. “Yes, I think I am going to enjoy myself here.” He glared at Jess and the steward. “Bring me the lady! This marriage must take place at once. All this can be over and done with most pleasantly. Let the festivities begin! Bring me my bride!”
Jess grabbed up a spare trestle and swung it, knocking the woman guarding her flying off her feet.
“Never!” she shouted. She ran for the Heir’s Tower. “My lady! Lock your door! Invaders! Invaders!”
She hoisted her skirts and hurried upward. She must defend her young charge, even if it took her life!
She had a head start on Master Dyved, but his long legs made it simple to catch up with her. He slashed his sword toward her face. She ducked under the blade. It clashed against the stone wall. She looked around for a weapon. Her own sword still hung on the peg above her armor chest in the guard