Valor de Nerra was a man to be reckoned with.
Now, he was the most powerful man from Basingstoke to the sea, a vast area where he had several men in patrols that kept order in a lawless time. Margaretha was still hugely proud of her son but she was afraid that his attention to duty was causing him to lack foresight into his future. Marital future. As his mother, it was her duty to make sure he understood the importance of it. But after two years of her trying to beat it into his head, she was afraid she wasn’t making much of an impression on him.
“I am not hen-pecking you,” she said as she put butter on her bread. “It seems to me that you fail to understand the importance of your future. You are the last of your father’s line, Valor, not to mention the last of my line. In fact, my line is far more important. You understand that it must be continued.”
Val was quickly growing exhausted of the conversation. When the servant poured him watered wine, he down the entire cup and demanded more.
“I understand,” he said with exaggerated patience. “I understand that your family line can be traced back to Pontius Pilate when the man was brought by Roman galley to Porchester, whereupon he fathered a child with a local Saxon woman, a child who happened to be your forbearer on your mother’s side. I also understand that there is Wessex royalty in your blood, Mother, and I give thanks to God daily that you did not name me after the wyvern in your family crest. Instead of Wyvern, you named me Valor because that is what you wished for me. How could a man with the name Valor be anything other than valorous? Therefore, I understand clearly what you have been telling me for thirty-four years.”
Now, his irritation was showing and Margaretha was feeling scolded. Still, she had her pride and that meant her son would never see her in the throes of submission or defeat. Even if what he said was true. She eyed him before returning to her meal.
“I do not think I like your attitude this morning,” she said. “I sense disrespect.”
“And I sense the same.”
She looked at him, surprised and confused. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Evidently, you do not respect my judgement or intelligence enough to know that I realize I must take a wife at some point. We have had this conversation so many times that my head is swimming with your expectations. I know them all too well, Mother. Therefore, may we drop the subject, at least for this meal?”
Margaretha returned her focus to her food, trying not to sound hurt. “If that is your wish.”
“It is.”
Margaretha took a bite of her bread with butter as a servant spooned out an egg dish onto her trencher. Val, too, delved into his bread, eyeing his mother and feeling some remorse for the turn of the conversation.
She meant well; he knew she did. She wasn’t really the harpy that she seemed to be at times. In truth, she could be very wise and generous. But the situation with his lack of a wife was starting to create tension between them and, for that, he was, indeed, sorry. But, as he’d told her many times, she was going to have to let him make his own decisions where that was concerned.
The meal continued in silence for a few minutes until another man entered the hall and Val found himself looking up at his second in command. Sir Calum de Morville had been on patrol the evening before, for whenever Val wasn’t out attending to his duties, Calum was there in his place. Still in his mail breeches and still armed, Calum smiled wearily at Val.
“Good morn,” he said. Then, he looked to Margaretha. “Good morn to you, Lady de Nerra. It ’tis a fine morning. In fact, I passed a woman on the road who gave me some bulbs for your flower garden when the spring comes. I have left them at the door for you to inspect.”
Margaretha seemed pleased. “How fine,” she said. “My thanks, Calum. Will you eat with us? My son and I were just discussing my lack of grandchildren. Since you have a wife, mayhap you can stress to him how pleasant it is to have a woman in your bed every night.”
So much for keeping her mouth shut. Val, who had a knife in his hand that he’d been eating with, suddenly flipped it to the dull side and sawed it back and forth across the inside of his wrist, evidently trying to kill himself. Calum caught the gesture and struggled not to laugh.
“We have discussed the issue many times, Lady de Nerra,” he said, biting off a smile. “I am confident that Val will select a fine wife someday. You must be patient.”
Margaretha cocked an eyebrow at the knight. “Bah,” she said. “He had better do it before I die or I will not be able to rest in peace. With my bad heart, there is the very real possibility that I shall not live to see the morrow. Do you hear, Valor? If you do not marry before I die, then I shall be forced to haunt you.”
Unable to slit his wrists with the dull side of the knife, Val gave up and stabbed a piece of boiled apple, plopping it into his mouth. “It cannot be any worse than the way you haunt me right now,” he said, chewing. He looked at Calum. “Sit down and eat. Give her another target to aim for so she will leave me alone.”
Calum couldn’t help the laughter then. “I cannot,” he said, chuckling. “I have come with news, Val. Do you recall the missive we received from Lord Horsham about the knight who had killed one of his sons?”
Val nodded. “Latham de Wyck was the name, I believe,” he said. “He’d come to court one of Horsham’s daughters. When the girl’s brother tried to intervene, de Wyck killed him.”
Calum nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “We have reason to believe that de Wyck is in Whitehill. One of our patrols sent word about the horse that Horsham described as belonging to the knight being in the livery in Whitehill. I thought you would want to see for yourself.”
Val nodded. “I do,” he said, quickly downing the rest of his watered wine and rising to his feet. “We will take a full contingent of men with us. Forty men, fully armed. If this is the knight, then he will more than likely fight to the death rather than be captured alive. I want the men prepared and protected. Gather them now and I shall meet you in the bailey.”
Calum nodded and, begging leave from Margaretha, fled the small hall. Val wasn’t so quick to leave; he rounded the table and kissed his mother on her smooth cheek.
“I will return when I can,” he said.
He was halfway to the door when Margaretha called after him. “Valor,” she said. She was the only one who ever called him by his full name. “You will take care.”
He winked at her. “I always do, love.”
He was hurrying to leave but Margaretha stopped him again. “Wait,” she said. When he stopped to look at her, impatience in his features, she softened. “I do love you, my dear boy. Surely you know that.”
“I know.”
“I simply want you to be happy. But I want to be happy, too.”
Val softened his impatient stance, but only for a moment. “I promise you that, someday, we shall both be exquisitely happy. I would stake my life on it.”
“Then you shall marry someday?”
“Of course I will.”
“Soon?”
“If I meet her tomorrow, then mayhap soon. But if I do not… be patient, dearest Mother. I will not disappoint you.”
Margaretha knew that. He’d not disappointed her yet; he’d always been a son to be very proud of. Well, most of the time. He flashed her that devilish smile, the one he always flashed her when he got his way, and dashed from the chamber.
When he was gone, Margaretha sat in silence, pondering their conversation and listening to the distant shouts of the men in the bailey of Selborne Castle. Men sworn to the king and, through the king, to her son. He was a favored of Henry and a man who could have anything he wished simply for the asking. It was a charmed life that Val led, in royal favor, something he worked his entire life to attain. Aye, she was proud of him. Overwhelmingly so.
But pride wouldn’t bring her any grandchildren.
With a heavy sigh, Margaretha returned to her morning meal, one she found she no longer had an appetite for. Something in Val’s expression as he
’d left, in that brilliant smile of straight, white teeth, had given her a sense of doom. She didn’t know why. Perhaps, it was only her imagination and nothing more. But something in his face had had a shadow of dread upon it.
Today is a day for dread.
It was just a feeling she had.
CHAPTER TWO
The village of Whitehill
4 miles east of Selborne
Upon seeing the blue roan Belgian warmblood, a very rare color of horse, Val and Calum were convinced that they had happened upon the knight Lord Horsham was seeking. Horsham had described the horse and the knight in detail, a man he wanted brought to justice for the murder of his beloved son.
It was Val’s intention to see that Lord Horsham got his wish.
In the old stone livery in a part of the village that had two popular inns, they were inclined to believe that their man was in one of the taverns but the livery keep couldn’t tell them which one. He did, however, describe a tall knight with a long red beard and curly red hair, which made finding de Wyck a little more certain. A man of that description would stand out.
It was still early enough in the morning that men were just awakening and preparing for the coming day. From their vantage point at the livery, the knights could see both inns; one was to the north about one hundred feet away across a vacant lot and the other one was directly across the road. From the rain the previous night, the road was muddy and the air cold, the breath of living creatures creating puffs of fog upon the air. As the livery keep scurried off, fearful of all of the armed soldiers, Val and Calum gathered men at the rear of the livery to produce a plan of action.
“You were briefed on our purpose for coming to Whitehill,” Val said to the forty-three men he’d brought with him, including three knights. “Based on a discussion with the livery keep, we believe that the man we are seeking is in one of the two taverns on this road. The tavern to the north, one-storied, is The Peacock and the Flame. I believe most of you men are acquainted with it. Probably more intimately than I would care to know.”
The men snorted, looking at each other knowingly. Val was generous in the time and freedom he allowed his men for service well-rendered and The Peacock and the Flame had a host of lovely women from which to choose. It was popular with travelers and locals alike. Val grinned because his men were.
“But no such distractions today because we have work to do,” he said, looking pointedly at his smirking soldiers. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Across the road is The Golden Pheasant. That one is bigger and less expensive to lodge in. Since we cannot know where the man is staying, our best option is to flush him out. Calum will take Kenan with him along with twenty men down to The Peacock and the Flame while I will take Mayne with me and the remainder of the men to The Golden Pheasant. Now, separate yourselves into two groups of twenty and await further orders.”
The soldiers did as they were told as Val turned to his knights, the three best knights a man had ever had the privilege to serve with. He’d brought them all back with him from France when he’d returned with his royal appointment, so these were men proven in battle. Along with Calum, a big blonde stud of a man, there was Kenan de Poyer, built like a bear with big hands and shaggy brown hair, and Mayne de Garr, a knight who was handsome to a fault and took great care in his personal appearance.
Mayne could fight with the best of them. But if a hair was out of place on his combed head in the process, he would become furious. It was often quite entertaining to watch Kenan ruffle Mayne’s hair, only for Mayne to light Kenan’s tunic on fire. That had happened three times that Val knew of, and probably more that he didn’t. Mayne didn’t take kindly to Kenan’s taunts and there was a subversive war going on between them when Val wasn’t looking. But in battle, they would both kill and die for one another, making it an odd relationship, indeed.
But on this morning, both men were primed for what was to come. The ride from Selborne had been hard and fast. Even now, they awaited their orders. Val didn’t keep them in suspense.
“It is my suggestion that you have men surround the tavern and cover all windows and doors,” he said to the three knights. “Have a group of men go in from the rear and flush everyone out through the front. These taverns will be crowded this early in the morning, so be on your guard. We are looking for a man with long red hair and a beard to match, and he will be in no mood to be taken prisoner. He’s killed once and it is my suspicion he will not hesitate to do it again if threatened. But we want him alive for Lord Horsham’s good justice.”
The knights absorbed the orders. “The Golden Pheasant has two floors,” Calum said. “As I recall, there were at least eight sleeping rooms above the common room.”
Val nodded. “Eight plus a communal loft,” he said with confidence. “I will send Mayne and a contingent of men to roust that floor but ultimately, everyone will be driven out of the front door. I would suggest you follow a similar tactic.”
The situation was clear to them all. As Calum and Kenan went to collect their group of men, Val turned to Mayne.
“Pick your men to take to the second floor,” he told the man. “But remember that sleeping men, when caught off-guard, can often act before thinking. Watch your head.”
Mayne nodded. “I have every intention of doing that,” he said. “Some men consider scars a mark of honor. I, for one, do not.”
Val fought off a grin at the vain knight. “Then let this operation not mar your tender skin,” he said, a dig at Mayne’s pride. “Get on with it. I will position men around the inn and wait at the entry for you to drive the mob towards me.”
“Aye, my lord.”
As Mayne went to pick his men, Val took the remaining fourteen with him towards the tavern. Off to his left, he could see Calum and Kenan heading towards the other tavern, moving through the mud and debris that had collected overnight along the road. They made a concerning sight, armed for battle as they were. Villeins going about their business were intimidated by the sight of so many armed men.
Val knew that word of their appearance would quickly get around, so he emitted a soft whistle between his teeth, motioning to Mayne and his men to quickly enter The Golden Pheasant. As Mayne and his soldiers ran past him, entering the front of the tavern in a well-organized group, Val hurriedly positioned his men around the perimeter and instructed six of them to enter from the rear along with Mayne. That way, both floors would be covered. That left eight on the perimeter, watching doors and windows. Val was just about to give them the signal to move, another one of those piercing whistles, when the entry door of the inn lurched open.
A man and a woman spilled forth into the early morning, bearing satchels and heavily robbed against the cold. But it wasn’t just any man and woman; Val immediately recognized an old ally with an unfamiliar young woman at his side. In fact, the sight was rather surprising and all Val could think of was getting the pair out of the way before a mob of terrified people trampled them as his men chased the patrons from the tavern.
“D’Avignon?” Val said as he moved quickly towards the man. “McCloud d’Avignon?”
Sir McCloud d’Avignon, hearing his name, turned in Val’s direction. He had been moderately concerned when he came out of the tavern and saw all of the armed soldiers. But when Val called to him, his concern turned to both surprise and relief.
“De Nerra?” he boomed, grabbing the young woman by the arm as he headed in Val’s direction. “Is it really you?”
“It ’tis.”
“I’ve not seen you in years!”
“It has been a long time.”
“What are you doing here? And who are all of these men?”
Val reached out to take the man by the arm. “Come away from the door,” he said, not really answering his question. “I do not want you to become caught up in what is surely to come.”
He pulled McCloud and the young woman away from the tavern just as screams began to erupt inside. Hearing that his orders were already being carried out, V
al signaled to one of his men to commence and the man emitted a shrill whistle in response. With that, there were the sounds of a massive crash and more screams coming from the rear of the tavern.
It all sounded quite harrowing. Val increased his pace, pulling McCloud and the woman across the road and towards the livery as the entire tavern began to erupt.
“God’s Bones, Val,” McCloud said, realizing there was some danger going on behind them. “What is happening?”
Val’s attention was on the tavern, distracted as he spoke to McCloud. “A fugitive,” he said. “A knight who killed Lord Horsham’s son. I have been asked to bring the man to justice.”
McCloud was eyeing the tavern with great concern. From the sound of it, whatever was happening inside wasn’t good. “The poor man,” he muttered. “My daughter and I were just inside the tavern and it was very crowded. What does the man you seek look like?”
Val took his attention off the tavern for a brief moment. “A tall knight with red hair and a red beard,” he said. “Did you see anyone that fits that description?”
McCloud shook his head. “Alas, I did not,” he said. “But that means nothing. The sleeping rooms were all full. He could have been in one of those.”
Val simply nodded, his focus returning to the tavern. “I will find him,” he said. “Meanwhile, it was good to see you. Pleasant journey to you.”
McCloud sensed his distraction. “And I wish you well in your endeavor to bring about law and order,” he said. “A pity we do not have time to speak and become acquainted again. I have missed you, my old friend.”
Val was torn now, because he did want to speak with McCloud. But he was focused on the task at hand. Therefore, he did the only thing he could.
“Then come and sup with me this evening,” he said. “Please allow me to extend the hospitality of Selborne Castle.”
McCloud looked at the young woman with him, who was nearly completely obscured by the hooded cloak she wore. There was some indecision on his face as the young woman shook her head. “We… well, we were traveling home but I would very much like to feast with you this evening,” he said. “Where is Selborne?”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 95