AUDEAMUS
Chapter 32
Charles Swan pushed his way forward through the gathering throng. When two men had turned up at his house, asking him to join them in the square to listen to Cullen, he had done his duty and gone without hesitating. Robert had joined him together with every able man of his household.
He remembered how his wife had run down the stairs, accompanied by their daughter. Even now he could hear Renée's protests.
"But you are safe here," Renée had urged, eyes growing red and blank with unshed tears. "S-stay with us." Her hands fervently grabbed onto the cloth of his coat.
However, Bella Swan, poised behind her mother and wringing her hands with determination in her eyes, had shaken her head.
"Go," she had mouthed. His daughter, while afraid, understood the implications, why he needed to go.
The square was filled beyond its capacity. People had started climbing the nearby buildings and were sitting on the roofs to get a better look.
Charles saw Simmons seated under the tree next to the statue of Cullen. He saw Jacob and Billy Black.
Amidst the vastly growing mass of people, Charles spotted the by now detested uniform of the Royal Guard. Sgt. Thompson and two other lancers were with the people. It appeared the kind-hearted and naïve sergeant had chosen a side. Surprisingly, he didn't get any dirty looks from the inhabitants of Hayes. Maybe it was due to their worry with more current matters. Or, maybe, they too understood that Thompson couldn't be reprimanded because of matters out of his hands. He had, after all, not followed the direct orders of his superiors.
Charles saw fear, nervousness and uncertainty spread among the people. Whispers that Forster was coming, that he had an army aimed for Hayes, swelled like a wave through the crowd. The night was illuminated by a few torches. Their resplendent flames intermingled with the lit street lamps and the beams of the moon.
"Forty years in this town, n' I've never been witness to such calamity," someone muttered next to him.
"A dead man rose from the grave, what else did ya expect?"
They all murmured, buzzing like a beehive as they strived to find some logic in their current situation. Charles didn't know what to think. He wrung his hands, hoping the rumors of an army to be false. An image of his daughter and wife appeared in his mind. There could be no army. He shut his eyes tightly, almost willing it to be so.
"Sir," Robert leaned forward to whisper in his ear as Charles' eyes sprung open.
"What?"
Robert, who was much taller than Charles, directed his finger to the far end of the square with wide eyes. The murmur of the crowd gained strength, extending like a wave from the plaza, pushing forcibly against the peace of the night. Two men rode through the throng and the people parted for them like the Red Sea.
Edward Cullen seated a black beast—a proud stallion with a glossy mane as black as a raven's wing. His horse walked calmly up to the statue, its rider quiet, collected. His relaxed countenance invoked a sense of peace in them. Willard Athar was right behind him, still trying to get his head around what Wilson had just revealed to them.
The sea of people pressed their lips together and a deathly silence emerged. The men in that square waited for the ghost to speak, to settle their worries and fears.
Cullen was not real. He couldn't be. He truly had to be a ghost. As the people stared, some truly thought him returned from the dead. And yet — there he was — in all his glory, as real as the person standing next to them.
Many believed that if they reached out, they might touch him and find the warmth of a real person. However, those who were more superstitious kept at bay. A few men, the more religious lot, held onto their faith, saying prayers under their breaths as their eyes remained as wide as when they had first seen him. They knew he was on their side; that much had been clear ever since the first time he had been spotted in Hayes.
However, the figure he cut — imposing, frightening, dark — served to alert them.
Mr. Simmons stood next to the statue, gripping a chess piece — a black knight — in his left hand. His eyes had grown wide as saucers as his lips trembled in a faint smile.
"My name is not important, who I am is not important," Edward Cullen spoke, his deep voice ripped through the tense silence, causing the people to stir. He regarded the familiar faces in the sea of people. Among those were his own father, his brothers-in-law, his soon to be father-in-law, friends, acquaintances, people he would not lose to Forster.
"What is important is the man coming for Hayes, coming for Cadherra," Edward Cullen said to the men. "What is important," he continued as his voice grew stronger and graver, is that we must defend our town, our county." Lines of worry, lines of fear were present in the faces watching him. Yet a spark of hope gave him more fodder. "It is time that you stand up against tyranny, against men like Forster, like Wilson," he told them.
"Aye!" many agreed.
"I know some of you have never picked up a sword or a pistol, have never fought a day in your lives." Edward pointed beyond the wall. "But if we do not strike back now…" he trailed off, not finishing his sentence, leaving the rest implied, hanging in the air. He looked down and shook his head.
"There may not be a Hayes left," he finally murmured.
They saw him sigh as his shrouded eyes scanned the crowd.
"Will you help me fight them? Will you help me restore justice for Lucas Ridge, Maria Haste, Lord Newton, Captain Clarke, and whoever else may have fallen prey to Wilson and Forster?" he asked. The crowd hesitated with a held breath.
"I cannot do this alone," his grave voice said again. "I cannot do this without you."
A faint echo from the back broke out — the lone voice of a young boy. "Aye, but we're with ya!" it said fervently. More joined the young lad and the echo swelled like a wave.
"Aye!" the entire square finally roared back, the uncertainty gone, the fear subsided. Glittering eyes looked to him in their hour of need and felt secure to have him with them. The roar extended itself amongst the crowd. Jacob's breath was taken away at the commitment. Their entire town and outlying villages had come together to defend Hayes. After months of harsh living conditions and fear of Forster's regime, it had culminated in this.
Slowly and increasing in strength, he heard it, faint at first, but then extending from the crowd until it was chanted so loudly that it had to be heard all the way to Coldwick.
Audeamus
Audeamus
Audeamus
"Let us dare!" the men roared with their clenched fists in the air, with a spark of hope in their eyes. They looked at the man who would lead them, who had fought for them, symbolically for three hundred years. He had returned when all hope was lost.
Billy Black had tears in his eyes as he witnessed the events unfold before him. What he had dreamed and wished for — for Angloans to stand up for themselves — was now finally happening. They would receive no help. No one would have the time to come to their aid. It was them against an army. But he knew that they had a fighting chance now. They had to.
Edward Cullen gave them a stiff nod and then turned to those closest to him. "Mr. Black, Jacob," he said through the chant.
"Aye, sir," Billy answered.
"Take some men and divide these people into those who can brandish a sword, those who can ride on horseback, those who can shoot a firearm, and the rest. Have some other men go to each house and ask for whatever weapons they may have."
Billy and Jacob nodded.
"Newton, Athar, you are coming with me," he told them. Cullen looked through the throng. "Sgt. Thompson!" he shouted as an undertone of joy touched the otherwise severe voice. "It is good to see you here, please join us," he blinked.
Thompson grew flustered but did as the masked man bid while Mr. Black and his son set out to obey Cullen's orders.
When Forster's and Wilson's actions had been revealed, Thompson had not given it a second thought and had broken away from them. He may be an inept soldier, but he was not a traitor. He, together with two lancers — those who were still loyal to the crown and Angloa and had not been in Forster's pockets — followed the man on the black horse. Cullen rode toward the garrison, where the gates stood wide open.
Edward dismounted the stallion and led the horse inside. The garrison looked in a state of abandonment. It seemed like the lancers who had been stationed there had rushed toward Wilson's estate when summoned. Lances, some muskets, and other weapons were strewn around the courtyard.
"Thompson," he told the big soldier. "Release all the prisoners you are holding, bring them up to speed, and then send them to the old square to join Mr. Black and his son."
"Aye, w-will do, sir!" Thompson saluted, ignoring that the outlaw he had previously chased now commanded him like his superior officer. But Thompson reasoned that it was only fitting: Cullen was a general, or had been one, after all.
Cullen was followed by the other men, but was soon stopped by a voice behind him.
"Sir!" a familiar voice called out. Cullen turned around, thanking the mask that hid his expression as Carlisle Masen, Emmett McCarty, and Jasper Hale walked up to him. "We wish to join you."
The man in black let go of the reins of his stallion, letting it roam free in the courtyard. "You already have, Lord Masen, and if you would return to the old square and to Mr. Black —"
"I was one of the keepers of Mr. Ridge's information…as you very well know, and as such my sons-in-law and I wish to personally join you and help defend Hayes against Forster."
"Lord Masen," Cullen stated, fighting to keep his voice neutral while eyeing Emmett who could not remove his eyes from him. "Last time we had a tête à tête, one of your footmen nearly shot me."
Masen arched an eyebrow. "Well, considering the circumstances — and the fact that you broke into my house — it could have been worse, don't you agree?"
Cullen chuckled; his voice low, dark, smooth like honey. Something felt strangely familiar about this man and Carlisle couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He noted now how Cullen kept his distance from him.
"Well put, my lord," he nodded and it was shortly followed by a sigh. Edward knew his father better than anyone. He would not turn back until he had been brought into the fold. Cullen motioned to Collins' office. "Let us get comfortable first," he said as he started heading for the building.
The others joined him, walking up to the door which they found was half-open. They followed Cullen who led them down the hall. He appeared more than familiar with the place. Carlisle wondered if maybe he was one of the soldiers who had decided to disguise himself and fight against the corrupt captain. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He had no right to speculate on the man behind the mask. At least not at a time like this.
They ended up in Collins' neat office, some documents stacked on his desk, waiting to be filled in. The room was spartan, lacking decoration. The men stared at the bizarre space, only lit by the silver moonlight filtering through a window. Cullen entered the room without a word.
Seeing him in the office of the commandant of the garrison was strange for some reason. It was like seeing the moon out during the day or a flower blooming in winter. He did not belong there. He was not supposed to be there.
The man in the mask searched through some cabinets until finding what he was looking for. He walked over to the wall where some candles were placed and lit them, filling the space with a warm light, breaking through the cold bluish light of the moon.
"Close the door after you," Cullen whispered as he lit a few more candles. When he was done, he moved to a corner — the one with the most shadows. He was still careful not to show too much of himself considering who was in that room with him.
Michael Newton removed the friar's habit once the room started getting warmer. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes, hypnotized by the dancing flames. A million thoughts rushed through his mind. However, most of all he couldn't get rid of the feeling that Forster and Wilson weren't done with them or with Hayes.
Athar sat down in the chair behind the desk, wondering if he would come out alive from this whole mess. The story Wilson had told him about Edward Cullen and William Fell kept nagging at him, eating away at him.
Carlisle stood before the desk with his sons-in-law, waiting for someone to speak.
Cullen had folded his arms and leaned into the corner, momentarily closing his eyes. He savored the sudden peace they found in that office. He knew he might not find it again that night.
"What now?" Michael's questioning voice startled the peace, extinguishing it like a candle. He hadn't directed his question to anyone in particular.
"We should send someone to Safeira or Coldwick," Athar suggested. "Wilson said Forster would come with an army of mercenaries. We need all the help we can get…"
Another moment of silence followed until it was broken once more.
"Aye, he said an army, Sir Athar," Emmett nodded. "It must be an army he could hide in plain sight without raising too much suspicion." His eyes drifted over to Cullen. "In Raven's Grove…did Black or you or any of your men stumble upon a group of mercenaries?" he asked.
He saw the corner of the masked man's lips twitch in what appeared to be approval. "No, but your train of thought is in the right direction, Mr. McCarty."
"The right direction?" Michael asked.
"If they weren't hiding in Raven's Grove, Wilson and Forster must have kept their men in a larger town, probably Coldwick or Maesir," Jasper answered. Slowly, his hands balled into fists. "Forster never came chasing after us when we fled Wilson's estate," he continued.
"He must have ridden for his men then," Athar nodded. "I heard Wilson shout to him, follow the plan," he growled.
"We must still send someone to Safeira," Michael urged. His inexperience showed. For while still having faced the hardships that he had, he did not know of confrontations or battles.
"We cannot." Carlisle, who hadn't spoken until then, stood in the middle of the room, staring at the floor. It had dawned on him for some time now. "It takes at least two days of hard riding to get to Safeira. Even if we send a rider now, he wouldn't arrive in time."
"And how would it look?" Jasper continued. "We send a man to them to explain that we have held a hearing with one magistrate…and not even in the town hall, but at a private estate."
Jasper turned to Athar.
"The evidence is more than acceptable, Sir Athar. But the whole situation would not look good to an outsider. It would appear as if we had rebelled against our local authority, sending Captain Forster on the run. Even if you are the brother of the Grand Duke of Cantabria, we wouldn't have enough time to explain everything. Supposing Forster either rode to Coldwick or Maesir, he would be here before our messenger returned — if he returned with reinforcements."
"I see only one option," came from the corner. "We have walls, let us use them."
The group processed Jasper's and Cullen's words. "You aim to fight them," Athar sighed.
"Most of these men have never picked up a sword or pistol in their lives," Emmett argued. "Surely Forster knows this?"
Cullen straightened up, standing with both feet planted firmly on the floor. "If we surmise that Forster never had his men in Raven's Grove, he either rode to Maesir or Coldwick. Coldwick is the larger town within only a few hour's ride away and with the better road. I believe that is where he rode, to the east. I think he will return with those men and attack in full force against our gates until he gets through. And once he is through, if we haven't set up our defenses by then, he will have won. This town will be stormed by mercenaries. I will not explain to you the horrors they might bestow on the inhabitants of Hayes," Cullen growled.
His words hung heavily in the air. They left a sour aftertaste for every man in there knew he was right. No one wished to fight despite what they had heard him say in the square. They knew lives would be lost.
"Even if we organize ourselves as you have instructed Mr. Black and his son to do, we still stand at a disadvantage," Carlisle argued. He wished it wasn't true, but he could not deny that they were unprepared for a fight. There had never been a threat of a siege, the walls weren't what they used to be. The doors had been updated some fifty years prior as the older portcullis doors had grown rusty and too heavy for daily use. But, despite the reinforced entrances, Carlisle was certain there were several weak points in the structure.
"I agree. If they have enough men and put enough pressure on the walls, they will eventually break through. That is why we must take the fight to them," Cullen argued. "It is true that only a few of us could take them down while on the wall until our bullets run out…and then we are at their mercy, surrounded and practically in a siege until we surrender."
"What do you have in mind?" Athar asked, his interest now piqued.
A shadow of a smile worked its way onto Cullen's lips. "We record history for a reason, gentlemen," he blinked. "During the Singing Battle of Adelton Hall, Lord Alistair attacked the castle with all his might. He was winning until Cullen's army arrived from the south and effectively trapped him in. He couldn't fight a battle on both sides and he eventually fled."
"The cavalry…" Carlisle trailed off. "You mean to attack from behind?"
"There are very few men who are apt on horseback in this town," Emmett warned.
Jasper, however, grinned for he realized where Cullen was going.
"If we lie in wait in the woods, we can attack them periodically, taking out a few of them at a time with the ones at the front being none the wiser. It might ease the pressure the front might be putting on the wall," Cullen said. "It is the best solution I can give."
Carlisle eyed him for a while. "You have fought in battle before," he said to the masked man. He received no answer, only the stern stare of two burning eyes.
After a while the tension subsided.
With heavy steps, the dark form walked up to his unknowing family, standing in front of his father, blocking most of the candlelight. Carlisle only saw a silhouette, not knowing it was his son standing before him in disguise. "Will you ride with me, Lord Masen?" the dark voice asked.
Carlisle found himself surprised at the request. He knew what it could mean to venture outside of the walls. But Carlisle knew his duty and what he could lose should Forster break through the walls.
"I…I would be honored," he finally answered.
The burning eyes looked at Jasper and Emmett who answered in the same tone as their father-in-law.
Emmett stepped forward to Cullen, his face blank, the tension rising. "When this is over, I want a rematch" he said as his eyes creased at the edges.
The corner of Cullen's lips tugged upward.
Cullen stretched his hand forward and it was clasped by his unknowing father in a firm handshake.
"Sir Athar, Lord Newton, I suggest you remain within the walls..."
"You will not soon find me wielding a sword, sir," Michael answered frantically. "I fear I may cut myself and only add to the chaos. I shall help wherever I am needed here."
"I suggest Lucy Berg's tavern might be beneficial in one way or another. I shall go there and turn it into our temporary headquarters, Cullen. If you take care of matters beyond the wall, I will hold the peace within them together with Mr. Black," Athar smiled.
It was settled then. Their short meeting seemed to have born enough fruit for their plan to proceed Without much else to say, the Masen family returned to the square, deciding that they would help Mr. Black form the cavalry. Athar and Michael went to Lucy's tavern. Cullen sought out Mr. Black with new orders.
They sent men to keep a lookout to the east, west, and south. The north was only a dense forest for miles and they were certain Forster had not ridden in that direction.
Cullen confirmed his suspicions; Jacob had not heard of any bandits residing within it. Forster's men would not arrive from the north.
Once Billy organized the men into groups, he sent Jacob to speak with a vast group of men on the ground that would keep guard on the wall. Those who could fire pistols were placed at strategic spots along the wall as well as on some nearby roofs. Those who could fight with swords on foot would wait by each gate, in case they were breeched. Already, men had begun building barricades in the nearby streets to herd whoever broke through the wall.
When they had finished, Cullen let a small sigh escape him. Jacob, Billy, Thompson, Jonah, Joe, Robert, and a handful of other men were surprised at the show of fatigue the man in the mask displayed.
"Go to your stations, make sure the men sleep in shifts to get some rest. Those of you who are not supposed to be on the wall, go to Lucy's or wherever you can find a bed. Get some hours of rest, you will need it."
"What about you?" asked Thompson.
Cullen was exhausted; he knew that if he was to lead the charge, he needed sleep. "We left the estate a little over four hours ago. I believe Forster has his men waiting either in Coldwick or Maesir, both more than five hours away—less if he gallops the entire way. We have until dawn," Cullen stated. "And I need rest as well."
The man in black went for his horse which he had tied to the side of the wall where they held their meeting. Some children had gathered enough courage to walk up to it and see if it was real or also a ghost like Cullen.
Edward ignored the pain in his side. The bleeding had stopped but he would have to inspect the wound once he returned.
"Let us meet here again when the sun rises."
"Alright," Billy nodded, not bothering to ask where Cullen would stay, it wasn't his business to inquire.
Edward rested his covered forehead against the cool stone of the cramped corridor. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, willing the pain in his body to go away. The moment he was left alone with his thoughts, he truly processed Wilson's words.
What even was "Audeamus" anymore? Who was Edward Cullen? The identity he had borrowed became more and more blurry with each passing minute.
The scent of wet earth, dust, and rotting wood permeated the corridor as he dragged his feet up to the small room where he stored his gear, weapons, and disguise. The secret room in his chambers had served him well, leading down to a hidden entrance in the garden wall. He could come and go as Cullen whenever he pleased.
Edward sat down on the chair, staring at his gloved hands, a frown working its way into his face behind the mask. He leaned against the back and stared up, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, his ears discerning footsteps beyond the little enclosed room. He didn't have the strength to face his questioning family. He didn't have the strength to get shouted at yet again by his father for his sudden disappearance at the ball.
He clenched his jaw. Images of Bella passed through his mind, images of her bleeding hands as she had stopped Collins from running his sword through him. Edward felt a guttural growl low in his throat the moment he was reminded of Collins, of the darkness in his eyes. James Collins seemed to have lost himself. The man with so many prospects — the person he had once thought of as a promising ally — was no more.
The latch of the door clicked, and the small panel opened as Joseph stepped in. "Sir?" he asked, alarmed as he rushed to Edward. "Sir, are you hurt?" he asked as he saw the defeated man in the chair, leaning against the back, his head tilted up, his eyes closed.
"No, Joseph," Edward whispered. "Only tired."
"Come, let us get you out of these clothes and have you wash yourself. I have a bath prepared."
Edward imagined he could hear her soft words whisper in his ear. He wanted to feel her skin, breathe her scent, hear her laugh. He wanted to be next to her.
"She is here," Joseph murmured as Edward stood up, relieving himself of the mask. The dark copper locks tumbled into his eyes. "Downstairs, safe."
Safe. He needed to keep her safe at all cost.
"Do not tell her I am home," Edward said. Emerald green eyes gazed at the dirt upon which he stood. No, if she knew he was there, he knew she would come to him and ask him questions. And the answers to those questions would eventually reveal where he planned on going. Bella wouldn't like it.
No, he wouldn't tell her. If she came to him now, he didn't know if he had the strength to part ways from her.
"I…I will not," Joseph nodded.
Downstairs, Bella fiddled with her skirts in the drawing room of the Masen townhouse. She and her mother had gone there, not wishing to be left alone in their own estate now that most servants had decided to join Mr. Black and Cullen. Even her father had gone to man the wall. When Bella had suggested they go to the Masens, her mother had been skeptical, but finally agreed, stating that it was more secure to keep the group together.
She sat next to her mother. On her other side was Alice, dozing off against the cushioned sofa. Rosalie was sleeping in a chaise lounge and Esmeralda placed a small blanket over her resting form.
"I believe we all should get some rest," Esmeralda stated as her heels clicked against the wood. She went over to a chair and sat opposite Bella. "You two may take the guest room," she continued. Her back was tensed, her eyes flickering to and fro. She was finding small tasks to occupy her time, yet. Esmeralda did not wish to think about where the rest of her family had gone.
"Alice, my sweet, we should head to bed as well. Who knows how much sleep we will get before this horrible situation is over?"
Alice snapped out of her trance, she rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I will wait up for Jasper a little longer," she whispered.
Bella pressed her lips together and stared at the beige rug beneath her feet. She longed to see Edward.
Esmeralda sighed. "There is little we can do now, Alice. But getting some rest —"
"But what if Forster attacks?" Alice shouted. Her voice awoke Rosalie and she darted up from the chaise, an alarmed look in her eyes as she quickly took in her surroundings.
Alice was worried for her husband, as well as for her father. Bella stepped away from her mother's embrace and reached for her friend. She took her hands in hers, ignoring the searing pain from the fresh cuts as they ached beneath the bandages. Silent speculation had dashed through the women's minds as Bella's hands had been bandaged, yet none of the women had asked about the cuts.
Bella kneeled next to Alice.
"We need to keep our strength, Alice. Being deprived of sleep will help no one. When the time comes, and our assistance is required, we need every ounce of strength we can muster. Jasper will come," she said. "Lord Masen will come." She looked at Esmeralda. "And Mr. McCarty will as well. Let us prepare for the night and give them a place to rest when they do return. I am certain it won't be long now."
"How can you be so certain?" Rosalie frowned. "What is to say that Forster will not come barging through the gates of Hayes this instant?"
"These mercenaries we have heard of could not have been kept in Raven's Grove or Jacob and his father would have happened upon them. They have to be close, accessible. Therefore, Safeira and Zafra must be ruled out. I believe they are either in Maesir or Coldwick; cities large enough to hide a larger group of men and not raise suspicion, yet close enough to get here within a few hours," Bella answered.
"Maesir and Coldwick are more than four hours away by horseback, galloping at a continuous speed." Renée agreed. She took in the eyes of the alarmed women watching her. "If Forster rode to either of those places the moment we all left Wilson's estate, he might still not have arrived there. I could not imagine his horse is faster than anyone else's. He must still be on the road. And then there is the issue of gathering all the men." Renée paused briefly when she realized what she had said. An army was heading their way. But the resolute woman refused to let that affect her. "They will not be here in another six hours at least."
"Then we could have sent someone to ride to Safeira!" Alice exclaimed.
"It takes days to ride through Raven's Grove and Sorossa. Besides, how would it look if we told the officials or even the king that we had imprisoned the mayor, and that the captain of the Royal Guard was on the run?" Bella argued. She squeezed her friend's hands. "Rest, Alice, this will all soon be over, you shall see. I have faith in Hayes, in Cullen, in Jacob. We shall all overcome this. But we need to be resolute in order to do so."
Alice nodded, a hint of uncertainty in her golden eyes.
Esmeralda showed Bella and her mother to the guest bedroom where they could get some hours of sleep. Bella hadn't bothered to ask where Edward Masen was, knowing it would either cause alarm because they didn't know of his whereabouts, or irritation, because he kept away from the conflict. He had enough issues to tackle as it was.
Bella stood next to the window while Renée prepared the bed. The women were still fully dressed, too tired to change into the nightgowns they had been provided. Some faint drops smattered against the glass as the skies slowly let the rains fall. Chocolate orbs scoured the road below the window as she gripped the sill and her brow furrowed.
Where was he?
Renée watched her daughter's profile, the lines in her face, the worry she expressed in her stance. She knew there were many things her daughter had not told her. She knew there were secrets, hidden away in the depths of her mind in the depths of her heart.
"Rest, Bella, that is what you need," came the smooth voice of her mother.
But rest was something Bella wouldn't get. Not until she knew Edward was safe. She trailed her thumb along the bandage of her left hand, absentmindedly looking at it. Renée hadn't asked what had happened to her daughter, but Bella remembered the look in her eyes and how she had appeared torn inside. Whatever it was Bella had witnessed, it had affected her.
Bella remembered the way Collins had almost rammed his blade through Edward's heart. Had she not been there to stop him, Edward would be no more. The very thought made her breath hitch in her throat.
Bella felt a presence near her in the subdued room as raindrops hit the windows with more force. In the distance, she saw the torches light up along the wall. The watchers were preparing for the impending confrontation as the rest of Hayes tried to find some sort of rest. Renée looked out the window together with her daughter, placing her arm around her. Bella hadn't noticed how she was shivering, how her jaw was clenched.
"Who out there has my daughter so worried?" asked her mother, turning to look at the chestnut-haired beauty.
"No one," Bella mumbled.
"I cannot imagine this is all for…your fiancé," Renée whispered, her eyes locked on the rain falling.
Bella didn't answer her.
"All those rides to Raven's Grove, to St. Nicholas…your father may not know…," Renée turned Bella to face her. "But a mother's intuition knows many things," she whispered. It sounded eerie, breaking through the thick tension in the room hanging heavily in the air.
The young woman slowly looked up at her mother, her white dress shining in the silver light of the moon cascading through the window, making her look like a ghost.
"Mama —"
"Rest. When this is all over, you will explain yourself to me…to your father," her mother whispered.
"It isn't what you think —"
"Rest," Renée commanded. She trusted her daughter. Yet, to her the situation seemed as it appeared — Bella was engaged to one man while she betrayed him with another.
Bella walked wordlessly to the bed and laid down. Despite her heart pounding loudly in her chest, she fell asleep instantly, soon joined by her mother. She wasn't aware that Edward Masen was just down the hall, sleeping soundly as well, recovering for the fight that would take place in a few hours.
The Masen townhouse settled and became eerily silent, almost dead. At one point, Carlisle, Emmett, and Jasper returned after having spoken with Jacob and Billy Black in the town square. They too needed sleep as the hour passed midnight.
The household settled strangely into the night as the rush, anxiety, and worry seemed to dispel. However, they did not sleep soundly, much like the rest of Hayes. In the stillness, they were plagued by thoughts of the upcoming battle, nightmares about whom they might lose in the fight to come. The stillness stretched its weary tentacles through Hayes. Those few who remained awake took to the bottle to keep their spirits up.
In the darkness of the night, no one noticed the group of men slowly slipping through the cracks in the still disorganized guard, moving away from their hiding place along the northwestern wall. They had managed to slip inside the secured town when everyone else were still arriving from Wilson's estate. They had been in hiding until the town settled down. Now, in the light of the moon, they made their way to one house. The leader of the group looked at the townhouse with murderous intent, grasping the handle of the front door: it was unlocked.
He stepped inside and signaled for the men to secure their positions. "No one enters or leaves, take the weapons, make sure all exits are locked," he whispered to them.
The lancers nodded stiffly, running through the house, locking in the few maids and footmen who remained in their rooms. Collins paced the vast foyer, looking up the curved staircase leading to the upper level.
He would catch the fox in his den.
Carlisle noticed the faint echo of footsteps down the hallway. He slowly straightened in his bed, casting a glance Esmeralda's way. She was still asleep. Hesitantly, and careful to make as little noise as possible, the baron walked up to the door, hearing dull steps filtering through the thick oak. The moment he turned the cold metal handle, it suddenly opened, sending him flying back. Carlisle tumbled to the floor with a groan, growling in anger as he collected himself on the soft rug only then to find a musket aimed at his face.
"Any weapons here, Ulric?" the voice behind the musket asked.
"Aye, I've got them," answered Ulric, one of the lancers who had guarded the west barricade the night Cullen saved the farmers from the noose.
"Who are you?" demanded Carlisle, not yet completely awake. "How dare you barge into my home?"
"Carlisle?" the panicked voice of his wife cried out as she darted up from the bed, shrieking when she saw the intruders.
It was only then that he noticed their uniforms. Lancers? Had Forster already arrived? But that couldn't be. He cast an eye to the clock in the corner, it wasn't even past three in the morning. They were supposed to have a few more hours left.
The musket neared his face further. "Stand up!" the lancer spat. From the corner of his eye, Carlisle saw one of them grab Esmeralda and drag her from the bed.
"Don't touch her!" he screamed, only to receive a hard strike across his face with the butt of the weapon. The metallic taste of blood mingled with his spittle, some of it dripped down the corner of his mouth.
"Get up!" the lancer growled. "Or Ulric shoots her."
With wide eyes, Carlisle struggled to stand up, the musket still aimed at him. Roughly, he was shoved out of the room toward the stairs, where he saw the rest of his family being led — or rather — dragged. Jasper tried in vain to struggle against two other lancers only to receive a staggering blow, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Alice rushed after him with tears in her eyes as Emmett beat another lancer with his fist. However, his fight was short and fruitless. Three other lancers trained their pistols on him and his hands were quickly tied behind his back.
The lancers urged the rest to walk down the stairs. Carlisle pushed through the pain now pulsating from the blow to his mouth, and blinked harshly as he leaned on the iron rail of the curved staircase. Esmeralda supported him as best she could, fighting hard not to cry. Renée Swan followed silently, her face ashen and her lips thin.
At the bottom of the foyer, standing on the marble floor with his hands behind his back, in his impeccable uniform, with a determined look on his face, stood none other than James Collins. He regarded the Masen household in silence, ignoring their looks of betrayal and malice.
"Get your hands off of me!", a female voice shouted fiercely. Bella Swan, the last to join the party, was being dragged by a lancer who had a strong grip around her wrist. She kicked and clawed like a wildcat, not willing to give up without a fight. Despite their current predicament, Renée proudly watched her daughter resist. Nevertheless, the soldier finally subdued Bella with the help of another.
When Bella emerged at the top of the stairs, she saw Collins patiently waiting at the other lancers accompanied him, all sporting muskets in their grips. With the whole family now gathered before him, he eyed Bella Swan with sorrowful eyes. The only person missing from the group was Edward Masen.
"Where is your son, Lord Masen?"demanded Collins.
"Traitor," Carlisle growled, stepping forward, only to be stopped by Ulric.
Collins walked up to him, his icy blue eyes fixed on those of the older lord. "Circumstance has placed me in a position I never wished to be in." He sighed and raked an agitated hand through his blond hair, upsetting the neat ponytail. "Where is your son?" he asked again, with more force.
"Even if I knew I'd never tell you," the proud baron snarled with a tug in the corner of his lips.
Collins eyed the others for a moment. He felt the eyes of the family glaring and criticizing him. "You don't know," he finally stated. "About him."
When he had uttered those words, Bella almost sank to the floor. No. No, it couldn't be! Collins had come for Edward because he knew. The icy blues now turned to look at her. She still saw a hint of the old and kind major in them.
"I could never accept that Edward Masen had taken you from me," he murmured as he neared her, now completely ignoring the rest of the spectators in the cold foyer. "I thought you had been deceived into marrying him."
"James," she whispered. "I implore you, do not do this."
"I love you, Isabella Swan. Despite everything, you still tried to see good in me at one point. I believe you still do."
She nodded as her lips quivered. "There is still time to turn back," she agreed.
"But is there still time to get you back?" he asked her.
All eyes rested on the two. Alice looked at her friend with horror, clinging onto her husband with shaking hands. Esmeralda and Renée watched on in fear, Collins appeared like a bomb about to explode. The men gritted their teeth, wondering how they could get out of this situation and alert the guard. Emmett struggled against his bonds, ignoring as the rope painfully scratched into his wrists. If he could only free himself, he might overpower one of the lancers and grab his musket.
Bella watched Collins for a long while, her chocolate orbs so open, so tranquil as they regarded him. He knew she would not lie to him, regardless of the situation.
"I do not love you," she finally said in a broken voice.
Collins breathed out harshly through his nose, slowly shaking his head in a strangely accepting manner. "I…thank you for your candor." He stepped closer to her, ignoring the horrified onlookers and the tensionin the room. Softly, he cupped her face in his hands. "But you did love me once, didn't you? And couldn't you again?"
"H-how could it have been love, James?" she asked. "You loved the idea of me, the lady you wished me to become, the one who rides who speaks properly, who entertains. That isn't me."
"But it could be!" he urged. "You strove to become that yourself. I saw it in you, whenever you were by my side."
She pushed away from him. "Edward has never asked that I change. He wants me as I am."
She saw how he soured, his forehead wrinkled. The impeccable uniform he wore suddenly instilled fear in her, as did the saber resting in its hold close to his hip. He was about to speak, when his lancers interrupted them.
"We found 'im, sir!" they said, showing up at the top of the staircase, aiming pistols at none other than a dazzled Edward Masen. His family noted that he had changed since the ball, dressing casually in a white wide-sleeved shirt. It looked hastily thrown on with the top gaping open and the bottom quickly tucked into his trousers. She noted the hint of bandages under his shirt. His hair looked freshly washed, and some locks tumbled boyishly into his eyes. He wore black trousers and boots that Bella found eerily familiar…they were the same trousers and boots he would wear as Cullen. She only hoped no one else would notice.
"Father, it seems we've been invaded," Edward dryly remarked in his usual nasal voice. Despite the situation, a mocking tone dripped from his words.
Collins snickered at the sight of him. Even if Edward no longer dressed as a fop, the air about him was decidedly still of one. Carlisle frowned, not liking how those soldiers aimed their weapons at his son.
"Bring him here," Collins ordered the lancers. Ceremoniously, they all walked down the stairs. Bella held her breath, her eyes darting from Collins to Edward. What was he about to do?
Edward was roughly brought to stand before Collins. A bored look in his eyes was accompanied by a frown. The fop did not seem to understand the danger he was in.
"You mean to tell me, Isabella, that you would prefer this?" Collins asked. Emmett and Jasper pressed their lips shut, partly understanding the soldier's opinion. While Edward no longer looked like a peacock, his mannerisms were still…lacking.
Bella Swan cast a glance Edward's way and then looked at Collins again. "A thousand times yes," she spat, astonishing them all. She approached him determinedly,, angered over his treatment of them all. "You are not half the man he is." Her eyebrow arched and she couldn't stop herself.
Collins curled his lips. "At first I couldn't see why." He eyed Edward.
"Why not? You have the toast of London before you, major! The girl grew some wit overnight when choosing me before you," Edward defended in that same nasal voice. He leaned in. "But I must say that I do take some offense in you trying to steal her away from me," he sighed. "Dear chap, it's a very ungentlemanly thing to do," he scolded.
James neared Edward and leaned forward. "I must say I am impressed by what you have accomplished here." He looked at the family. "Do they know?" When he saw the glint in Edward's eyes, the smile widened. He stepped back again.
"Almost a fortnight ago, Cullen was shot, yet Cullen escaped. I have wondered how and who helped him…," he trailed off, looking at Bella. "You spent that entire night in The Laughing Goose, which happens to be in close proximity to Dr. Blake."
Bella paled.
"Mere hours ago, at Wilson's, Cullen's wound was ripped open again when he fought me." Collins now eyed Edward. There was a tension which suffocated, so heavy it felt as if the heavens would come crashing down on them. Bella's heart pounded loudly in her chest as her throat dried.
Carlisle Masen shook his head slowly when he started understanding where Collins was going. "My son has nothing to do with Cullen!" he lashed out. "He doesn't even know how to fence!"
James kept his eyes steadfast on Edward. "The perfect disguise is usually the most obvious one." Masen's eyes went from the clouded bored look to something Collins recognized immediately. Edward knew the game was over and that there was no need to keep up pretenses anymore. He let go of the dandy and let the one from the shadows take over. The dangerous glint Collins had seen behind the mask so many times was now present.
Collins reached his hand out and was given a pistol, feeling its weight somberly. "There is only one way to reveal the truth," he murmured, watching the weapon in his clenched fist.
They all stood frozen as they waited for the major's next move. Suddenly, and with no warning, he neared Edward and directed a hard blow with the butt of the pistol to his right side. Edward bent over instantly as the air left his lungs. Tears of pain pooled in his eyes as his hand clutched his side.
James waited patiently while the man before him grunted as he slowly straightened up with some difficulty. They all saw the right side of Edward's shirt turn dark, its white fabric marked by a growing stain of blood. The moment Carlisle saw it, the air left his lungs.
"Blood never lies, Cullen," James spat.
The rest of them watched in stupefied silence.
Edward completely dropped the act.
"You came here to gloat, Collins? Miss Swan already told you, she chose me," Edward growled with a smirk spreading on his lips. His family all flinched at the unfamiliar voice emerging from his lips, not at all used to the dark and rasping voice.
James unsheathed his saber. "I came to finish what I started at Wilson's," the major said with an icy tone, pointing his saber at Edward.
Edward spread his hands. "You would kill an unarmed man, Collins?" Edward repeated what he had asked him at Wilson's estate.
Those who did not yet know of Edward's secret watched astonished, as the young man transformed before them. He lost the hunch in his back; he grew a snarl on his face and a murderous intent spread in his eyes.
"Afraid I will best you…this time?" Edward teased in a fashion that could only be attributed to another man, that of Cullen.
James growled and stepped to one of his soldiers, unsheathing his saber and tossed it to Edward who caught it with his left hand, swiftly feeling its weight.
"Lancers," Collins ordered, not breaking eye contact with the man before him for a second. "Should Mr. Masen disarm me, you have my permission to take down Lord Masen and his sons-in-law. Leave the women be."
Edward's eyes darkened.
Slowly, the family was pushed to the walls by the lancers. The middle of the vast foyer was now free for the awaiting confrontation between Edward and James. The electric intensity in the air grew tenfold. Bella's heart was stuck in her throat and her eyes wide. Emmett leaned forward in silent anticipation, his eyes about to pop out of his head. He wouldn't believe it until he saw it. Carlisle watched his son in disbelief, trying to process what had just been revealed to him. Yet, a small part of him still didn't want to accept it. Alas, there was the blood, the proof Collins had spoken of and more was to come the moment both men crossed swords.
Slowly the two men circled each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle as an animal and almost primal instinct settled on their faces.
James lashed out first, his sword low, so fast that it was almost missed by the spectators. Edward deflected the blade and they started their dance. The clash of blades ripped through the otherwise silent night. Collins pushed Edward back, and Edward took care in reading his opponent. The battle was, for the better lack of a word, marvelous. It was a mastery of fencing unlike anyone of them had ever seen. Both men poured everything into the duel. Collins advanced in a long lunge, swiftly deflected by Edward who reverted it into a glissade, sliding Collins' blade along his own. They continued in the same manner, both equally matched.
While others were fully distracted by the battle, Bella moved stealthily through the group, closing in on Emmett and slowly untying his bound hands."The lancer at the back is the most distracted. If you can get his musket, and Lord Masen overpowers the one farthest from the left, we may have a winning chance," she whispered under her breath. Bella stood stiffly, her frantic hands shaking as she struggled to loosen the tight knot. Emmett subtly nodded, not taking his eyes off the fight.
Collins and Edward had started sweating. Suddenly, the major pushed Edward into the railing, noting how he was grinning at him. "You are losing, Masen," Collins growled. "Like earlier tonight, so stop smiling," he spat.
But Edward paid him no heed. "I commend you on your seriousness regarding this matter," Edward growled back with an undertone of amusement gracing his features. His eyes glittered dangerously as they would behind the mask. Collins pushed away and directed a punch toward Edward's wound.
Edward doubled over just as Collins darted for him with his sword. Swiftly, Edward's instincts took hold of him, as in a series of quick and graceful maneuvers, he once again evened the score.
"I only lost earlier this night, James, because I was fighting with one hand tied behind my back," Edward continued. Bella noticed that his breath was heavier now. He was getting tired. "But I am not now," he growled as his eyes turned dark. With a push of his foot he sent Collins flying back on the marble floor. Edward cast the sword to the other hand. He had been fencing with his left the entire time, and it was then that Bella remembered that Edward was right-handed.
Collins lunged for him, but this time, the situation had changed drastically.
Edward, now fencing with the hand he truly favored, held the upper hand.
The clashes of their swords sent jarring echoes through the foyer. Their fight felt prolonged, as if there was never an end in sight. Bella truly had no idea who would come out the champion. Carlisle was just as engulfed by the quick attacks his son demonstrated as Emmett or Alice.
As both duelists started feeling the burn in their arms, the satisfied look in Edward's eyes betrayed him. Collins, who looked about ready to fall to his knees, pushed through his fatigue as best he could.
Edward encircled his opponent's blade, making the steel cling in the foyer until finding an opening to disarm him. Before Edward could react, however, Bella heard the lancers prepare their muskets and pulled the restraints from Emmett's wrists. She leapt forward and pushed into one lancer preparing to shoot Edward.
The shot was released but missed Edward by a hair's breadth. Emmett rammed into two lancers at the back while Carlisle and Jasper followed. Rosalie had removed one of her shoes and slammed its heel into the head of another lancer. The family soon overpowered the soldiers while Edward, soaked in sweat much like Collins, rested the tip of his sword on the major's breast. The fire aglow in his eyes, the stain of blood now grown, and the low growl in his throat were enough for Collins to remain still.
Bella saw the lancers fall like dominoes, dropping their weapons at the behest of Carlisle. Her eyes met Edward's. She knew. He knew: the secret was revealed.
Collins looked at her, at the woman he loved. A hollowness filled him to such a degree that he grew nauseated. He clung onto the sight of her, knowing he would most likely not see her again. Chocolate brown eyes shifted to watch him. She too was uncertain of how to react. Sorrow intermingled with confusion and anger: Why had he acted in such a way? Why had he been so foolish?
Bella walked up to both men, slowly resting her hand on Edward's arm, the weight bringing him back to the present. "I stopped Collins from killing you," she whispered. "I am stopping you from doing the same. He does not deserve death. He is blinded by his own folly, Edward."
"Bella…" James Collins whispered. It was a broken word, filled with agony.
"You do not get to speak to her," Edward growled, the tip of his sword embedding itself into Collins' chest, drawing blood. "Nor say her name!"
Collins cast his eyes to the ground, the hatred he felt for Edward Masen slowly waning, replaced only by emptiness. He frowned, running a shaking hand through his disheveled hair. "Do your duty," he finally whispered, looking directly into Edward's fiery eyes.
The moment prolonged as Edward hesitated, the tip of his sword still resting against Collins' chest. He felt his lover's hand squeezing his arm. After a while, he retracted his weapon.
"Had you listened to me from the start, major, things might have turned out differently for you," Edward murmured. He looked at Bella, only to regard Collins once more. "Or then again, maybe not."
Bella quickly retrieved the same rope which had been used to tie Emmett's, Jasper's and Carlisle's wrists. She handed it to an astonished Jasper who rushed to Collins and restrained him, and then proceeded to do the same with the still unconscious lancers.
Once the adrenaline and rush from the duel had settled, Edward felt his heart almost rise up to his throat as he turned to his family, the sword in his hand, his white shirt clinging to him, the wound in his side torn open as the faint rays of the sun were slowly but surely spilling over the horizon.
Bella remained close by his side, her face flushed, her eyes wide with something akin to guilt and her lips tightly closed.
Carlisle stared at his son for what felt like an age, the proud baron's nostrils flaring as he tried to form a coherent sentence, only ending in a confused mumble. His eyes glazed over the more he processed the secret which had been kept from him for over a year.
But it was not Carlisle who first approached Edward, nor was it Alice, Jasper or Emmett.
Esmeralda Cullen took great strides walking to her son with such a determined yet haunted look that it sent Edward a couple of paces back, gripping the sword tighter. Aye, the son knew well to fear his mother's wrath.
She stopped right before him, her eyes glancing down to the bloodstain on his white shirt, the sweat dripping from his temples, running down his throat and continuing down his chest.
"Edward Anthony Masen," she began with a low voice as a fire roared to life in her eyes. Bella's eyebrows arched in disbelief. Now she saw from whom Edward got his temper. "What on earth!" she continued, now screaming as she pointed an accusing finger at her son, "were you thinking?!"
Edward opened and closed his mouth several times, frowning as he searched fervently for an explanation. "I…I wasn't?" he mumbled.
He was about to continue when she rushed forward and took his face in her hands. "My sweet son, my brave son," she whispered as tears ran down her face and a smile etched its way onto her lips. She started fussing over him, lovingly reprimanding him, scolding him, taking care in not hurting his torn wound further. Soon Alice rushed forward, muttering incoherent words and her entire body shaking. Jasper and Emmett followed, demanding an explanation. Bella stepped to the side, knowing this was Edward's long-awaited moment with his family. He had been so worried of their reaction, and here they were, pride aglow in their eyes, relief and something akin to joy, a joy she had not known in them before.
"Since when did you know?" a female voice asked in a subdued voice next to her. Bella, startled, turned to see her mother with a hand resting on her hip and a devilishly reprimanding look appearing on her face.
"Mama, how preposterous! I was as much in the dark as the rest of you."
"You have many talents, Isabella Marie Swan, lying has never been one of them."
Bella pressed her lips together. She would not give her all the information. Suddenly, Bella turned to her mother. "Mama, I would very much appreciate it if papa ..."
"Your father, while I do love him very much, is the most indiscreet man in all of Angloa, if I ever saw one. He will not hear a word from me," her mother chuckled.
While mother and daughter spoke and Edward was bombarded by questions from his family, a sudden stillness settled as heavy footsteps neared the group.
Carlisle Masen, the proud baron, walked up to the son he had almost despised since his return from England. Edward's smile was swiftly wiped away as he now stood face-to-face with the man whose approval mattered the most to him, face-to-face with the man to whom he had not dared reveal his secret.
"You are Cullen," Carlisle stated in shock.
"I…I am, father," his son mumbled back as if almost ashamed of the fact. He looked as guilty as he felt. Rosalie held her breath, wondering how her father would react, knowing well the fear her younger brother had harbored at the prospect of telling such a secret.
"This whole façade of the fop and dandy returned from England…it was all a lie?" Carlisle asked as he neared.
Edward's nostrils flared. "Aye. I am…sorry father."
Carlisle now stood but a few inches away from his only son and heir, clenching his jaw as he looked at the large bloodstain on his right abdomen. "You could have died, Edward."
Edward sighed. "I never told you," he turned to the rest of the family, "any one of you save Rosalie, so that you wouldn't worry. I…it wasn't exactly planned to turn out this way," he explained.
"I am hurt that you wouldn't confide in me," Carlisle murmured as he looked away.
"Would you have permitted me such an endeavor if I had first come to you?" Edward asked.
"Of course not!"
"I never meant to hurt you, any one of you, with this charade. Believe me," he said with a strangled voice. He abruptly stopped himself when he saw the look on his father's face.
Carlisle neared him, his eyes glazed with unshed tears, a look of shame mixed with bursting pride as Lord Masen finally let his feelings show after his initial shock.
"It is I who should be asking forgiveness, my son, for the way I treated you." They could almost hear the faint break in his voice as he was overcome with emotion. "It wasn't fair, and even if you hadn't turned out to be who you are, I will never forgive myself for what I did to you." A few tears escaped Carlisle's eyes, despite his best efforts to control himself.
Edward's lip trembled at the acceptance from the man he so admired. He handed his sword to his mother and embraced his father who held him hard. "I am so proud, my son. So proud," he whispered into his ear as his tears ran more freely, hugging Edward hard against himself. Edward held his father equally as tight, a few tears mingling with the sweat.
He winced when Carlisle squeezed a little too tightly and swiftly placed him at arm's length. His parents looked at the wound, only now realizing that their son had been shot almost a fortnight ago. "We must get you to Dr. Blake immediately!" Carlisle exclaimed.
Collins was leaning against a pillar, watching the heartwarming scene with a frown, knowing it was a moment he would never experience.
Just as Edward was about to speak, bells blared through the town, raising the alarm, as the sun's rays spilled in through the windows of the foyer announcing the arrival of morning. A commotion stirred outside and everyone's eyes widened.
Forster had arrived.
N/A: Hi! You might have noticed I was away yet again for a while. I've realized that editing these chapters is taking so much of my time and I hate to post chapters I'm not happy with. I got a new job about two months ago. I won't bore you with my personal life but getting home at 9 in the evening I don't have the strength to sit in front of a word document for an hour when all I want is a drink and sleep! I have time on weekends but just isn't enough.
However, the lovely Moonwinks has started helping me editing as my beta. I am beyond thankful for her help and expertise! I can finally breathe out and not be a nervous wreck each time I post a chapter, wondering if I made a major spelling error or chose a strange word for a specific context. I want to give her a HUGE thank you. This will help me keep up to speed with my posting! Thank you all for being so understanding.
Thank you again, Moonwinks, for your help with this chapter!
Cheers,
Isabelle