Medieval 02 - Forbidden

hounds,” Simon muttered, “much less his only daughter.”
    “The baron was much put out by having to marry his daughter to a Saxon,” Dominic said neutrally.
    “Then the baron may be pleased to get his daughter back.”
    “If Duncan jilts Ariane, he will have no means of supporting the knights he must have to hold Stone Ring Keep,” Dominic said flatly. “And I, along with my unruly vassal, would suffer the displeasure of both the King of England and the King of Normandy.”
    “All this,” Meg said quietly, “at a time when the last of the warriors you sent with Duncan are only now straggling back to Blackthorne Keep on foot, muttering about lightning from a clear sky that drove their horses mad.”
    “Are you quite certain,” Dominic asked Simon, “that Duncan hasn’t forsworn himself and cast his lot with Erik?”
    “Never!” Meg said before anyone could speak.
    “That is what I feared at first,” Simon said calmly. “It would have explained much.”
    “And?” Dominic asked.
    “Rather quickly, I decided it wasn’t a simple matter of betrayal. If it had been, Duncan would have given me away to Sir Erik.”
    Sven nodded, silently agreeing. “It would have meant Simon’s death.”
    “So you decided he was bewitched,” Meg said, “and truly didn’t know you.”
    “Yes. What else could it be?”
    “Sometimes,” Meg said, “a man who is kicked in the head by a horse or hit with a battle hammer…if they survive, sometimes such men lose all knowledge of themselves for a time.”
    “How long?” Dominic asked sharply.
    “Sometimes days. Sometimes months. Sometimes…forever.”
    Sven crossed himself and muttered, “You call it accident. I call it Satan, who knows more disguises than I do.”
    “Truly?” Simon asked innocently. “A bemusing thought.”
    Dominic ignored them and looked at Meg.
    “What do you say, Glendruid healer?” he asked.
    “I can’t know whether it is accident or bewitchment until I see Duncan.”
    “While Duncan and I fought—,” Simon began.
    “You fought?” Meg asked, appalled. “Why?”
    “Sir Erik wanted to know the temper of the two new warriors he had found,” Simon said dryly. “So Duncan and I fought to display our skills with the sword.”
    Dominic’s smile was as thin as the edge of a dagger.
    “I would like to have seen that,” he said. “Your quickness against his strength.”
    Simon’s black eyes gleamed with laughter and a warrior’s love of testing himself against another warrior’s skill.
    “It was like fighting you,” Simon admitted, “but every bruise was rewarded by the certainty that Duncan hadn’t betrayed his oath of fealty to you.”
    “How so?”
    “When I said the words ‘Blackthorne Keep,’Duncan faltered as though at a blow. For an instant the darkness in his eyes lifted and he almost knew me.”
    “What happened next?” Meg asked intently.
    “I put him on his back in the field. Then I asked him if what Erik had said about his memory was true.”
    “And?”
    “Duncan said it was.”
    “You believed him,” Meg said.
    “Aye. He remembered nothing. The hell-witch has stolen his soul.”
    Meg flinched at the naked loathing in Simon’s voice. She knew he hated necromancy as few men hated anything.
    But she didn’t know why.
    “I now knew all that was required,” Simon said. “I made my excuses to Erik, found Sven, and set off for Blackthorne Keep as fast as our horses could carry us.”
    Absently, Dominic ran his fingertips over the cool silver of the Glendruid Wolf. Then he turned and looked at Simon and Sven with eyes whose icy clarity precisely matched those of the huge pin.
    “Rest for a time,” Dominic said. “When you are ready, the three of us will ride for the Disputed Lands.”
    “What will you accomplish with just three men?” Meg asked. “Stone Ring Keep can hold out for months against such a small force.”
    “To take any more warriors would endanger Blackthorne Keep.”
    Dominic’s expression softened as he smiled at his red-haired wife. He touched Meg’s lower lip with his thumb in a brief, sensual caress.
    “Besides,” Dominic added, “don’t you remember what I taught you about the best way to take a well-defended keep?”
    “Treachery,” Meg said huskily. “From within.”
    “Aye.”
    “What will you do?” she asked.
    “Somehow they stole Duncan from us. We shall steal him back.”
    “How?” Simon asked.
    “With a net,” Dominic said succinctly.
    “And