William was about to give him that opportunity.
“Then you are going to find out for certain,” he said. “You have surely also heard that the man is fickle, unpredictable, and dangerous. He has a massive army, and a good deal of wealth, and we never seem to know when that army is going to be unleashed either for, or against, the king. He has sided with John in the past, and he was a great supporter of Richard, but the older he gets, the more unstable he becomes. That is why I am traveling to Quellargate Castle soon. I have a date with destiny and Preston de Lacy.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
William was, if nothing else, extremely shrewd. He held up a finger as if to indicate a great idea. “I am stopping at Quellargate under the guise of traveling north and you are going with me,” he said. “Of course, de Lacy will welcome me and after an evening of feasting, I will suggest a game of chance. The man loves games of chance, or so I am told. I will wager my very best knight on a game and conveniently lose both the game and the knight.”
Cullen was starting to catch on. “And I am to be that knight.”
William nodded. “You will serve de Lacy and you will keep watch over the man,” he said. “You will earn his trust and you will watch every move he makes. You will have to pretend to be loyal to his causes and hate those he hates. You are to become his Father Confessor and his conscience if he allows it, and report to me on things of significance. Never forget your true loyalty, Cullen, for it belongs to me. Is this in any way unclear?”
Cullen drew in a long, slow breath, thinking of the sharp turn his future was about to take. To be truthful, he wasn’t all that pleased, but he understood William’s reasoning. De Lacy did, indeed, have a reputation as being unstable, a madman with the wealth of Midas at his fingertips, but the thought of being the man’s handler didn’t sit well with Cullen. He wasn’t a nursemaid, nor was he a spy.
“My lord,” he began quietly. “Although I am greatly flattered, surely there are other men for this job.”
“There are other men, but not better men,” William said. “You are the best man for this task.”
It was clear that William had already made up his mind. Cullen struggled not to become frustrated.
“My lord, you know I have been serving Maxton of Loxbeare for a few years,” he said. “I command the Loxbeare armies and it is an important position. I know that, eventually, I shall have command of my own outpost. This is something I’ve been working hard toward.”
William eyed him. “Maxton knows of my offer to you,” he said. “Why do you think I am speaking with you? It is at Max’s recommendation. He thinks most highly of you and feels you are worthy of such a position.”
Cullen couldn’t help but feel betrayed by his liege even though he knew it was meant as a compliment.
“Max is attempting to rid himself of me?” he muttered.
William shook his head. “He is trying to help you gain the stature and glory that you deserve,” he said. “Cullen, I know you are ambitious. I understand that. I ask that you give me at least three or four years in the service of de Lacy. Perform flawlessly, help me keep the man under control, and I shall reward you generously.”
That had Cullen’s attention. “How generously?”
William had to chuckle. “Your mercenary streak is showing,” he jested. But he dutifully turned for his table, the one that was covered with maps and missives and other things. There was one particular map on the table, old and torn at one end, and he bent over it as he evidently searched for something. “I have been given property to pay a debt, property I’ve never even seen before. It is a small fortress once belonging to the lords of Sussex called The Haven. It carries three villages and a good deal of land, and the income from it is decent, but it could be better with the proper man at her helm. Perform well for me and I will give you this property as your reward. It is not far from your father’s property, in fact.”
Cullen made his way over to the table, too, looking to the area of the map that William was pointing to. He was far more interested in the reward than in the actual mission. Collecting a taper at the end of the table, he brought it around to shine upon the map so he could see it better.
“The Haven,” he repeated. “I have not heard of it. Prosperous, you say?”
“From what I am told. I have men heading there now to secure it and give me an assessment.” He watched Cullen’s face as the man examined the map. “Well? Do we have a bargain?”
The lure of property and riches was great. So great, in fact, that Cullen knew he was going to accept this mission in spite of whatever reluctance he was feeling. He inspected the map, scratching his chin as he did so.
“You know that I am the third son in my family,” he said. “I have two older brothers who will inherit almost everything from my father. Do not misunderstand me; I do not begrudge them their birth order. It simply means that anything I have, I must obtain myself. For this sheer opportunity alone, I am grateful. Truly, I cannot refuse you now.”
William’s lips twitched with a smile. “I do not care what prompts you to accept this task, Cullen, only that you do,” he said. “If it is not love for country, or for me, the prospect of a great reward is just as well. But do not think this mission with de Lacy will be simple, for it will not be. You have seen and accomplished many things in your life, but nothing like this. It will be as dangerous as you can possibly imagine. Preston de Lacy is a dark hole of mystery, and I am depending on you to clarify it – and him.”
Cullen nodded, feeling not entirely reluctant for this task any longer. The Marshal’s reward offer had him rather eager to get on with it, in fact.
“I understand,” he said. “Four years at most?”
“Four years at most. But you must agree to discuss a continuation of this mission when those four years are up. I may need you more than ever at that time.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable request. “Very well, my lord,” he said, a glimmer in his dark eyes. “It would seem that you and I have struck a bargain.”
That was what William had been hoping to hear. He permitted himself to relax enough to let his smile come forth. In truth, he’d had his doubts. But a landless knight had been swayed with the lure of properties, and William was satisfied. As he’d said – he didn’t care that Cullen hadn’t agreed to the mission simply for the love of his country or the love of William Marshal. A mercenary reason didn’t matter to him in the least.
He had what he wanted.
“Excellent,” William finally said. “But there is something else you should know, de Nerra. De Lacy is… deviant. He is cruel, barbaric, and abhorrent. I have heard tales of the man and his behaviors, but rather than entertain you with such stories, it would be better if you went into this only warned as opposed to being showered in detail. You will have to serve the man and I do not want you holding prejudice against him immediately. That will affect how you do your duty. What you learn about him, you will learn personally.”
Cullen looked at him, long and hard. “You waited to tell me this after I had already agreed.”
“Indeed, I did,” William said as if he were in the right. Perhaps he was, or perhaps he wasn’t, but it was a moot point now. He lifted a hand, patting Cullen on the shoulder. “We shall feast and drink tonight and speak of this new mission. I have a feeling it might be quite an adventure for you.”
Cullen craved adventure. What he didn’t crave was shadowing an unstable old earl who evidently had an odd streak, but he didn’t say so. He’d agreed to do it and there was nothing more to say.
“When are you planning on traveling to Quellargate Castle?” he asked.
William was already reaching for a rock crystal pitcher, filled with dark, sweet wine. “Next week, I suppose,” he said. “Now that you and I have an agreement, I am eager to move forward with it. One stop at Quellargate and you shall belong to de Lacy. From what I understand, he has a few good knights, but no one outstanding. You, my son, are outstanding. He wil
l appreciate having you.”
Cullen accepted the cup of wine that was extended to him. “I will do my best, my lord,” he said. “You have my thanks for your generous offer. I shall not fail you.”
William lifted his own cup to his lips. “I know you will not,” he said. “If you do, it will be a failure for England as a whole. Do you understand this?”
“I do, my lord.”
“Then let us drink to a great success for us all.”
As the warm liquid coursed down Cullen’s throat, he couldn’t help but feel some foreboding. Not in his own skills or the honor of his mission; it was more the unknown he would soon be facing. Something in William’s tone suggested it was more serious than he was willing to let on, than he was willing to explain to Cullen.
Perhaps, that was something he was going to have to discover for himself.
Little did he know that in that solar on that dark and clear night, Cullen made a deal with the devil that would give him more adventure than he ever dreamed of.
An adventure that might very well cost him his life.
CHAPTER ONE
Year of Our Lord 1208 A.D., January
Rodstone House, London
“I cannot think of anything more unsavory,” the man grumbled. “Is there no other way to accomplish this?”
A disembodied voice from the shadows answered. “There is not, my lord. You have no choice.”
The smoky solar was dark but for the small fire in the hearth. The atmosphere of the room was tense, still, but for a man pacing about like a caged animal. The flames crackled softly as his feet shuffled across the floor in rhythm.
“But a marriage?” The man came to a sudden halt, shaking his head in disgust. “Christ, she was to be my nephew’s bride, not mine. What am I going to do with a wife?”
“Use her to your advantage.” There was a pause as the figure in the shadows moved into the light, slowly, with the grace of a hunter stalking prey. “Her father is loyal to John, my lord. You are well aware of this. He has ties to the king’s inner circle. Your nephew’s death changes none of these facts. Marrying her will be a great opportunity to strike against the opposition, as we have planned all along.”
The man cocked an eyebrow as if relieved by the words. After a moment, he laughed softly, embarrassed that he had lost sight of the true objective. “Of course,” he murmured. “Instead of cursing Ridley for being stupid enough to die, I should be congratulating him. All is not lost, of course. And I must remember that, no matter how distasteful the matter of this marriage is.”
The man from the shadows, a knight of enormous proportions, finished the last of the fine Spanish wine in his chalice. Quietly, he set the cup down on the table and poured himself a measure more.
“Our plans for the woman will not be altered though she is to become your wife and not your nephew’s,” he said. “In fact, I believe this is far better than we could have ever hoped for.”
The first man snorted softly and moved to fill his own cup from the crystal decanter. The light from the hearth filtered through the glass, giving the liquid a blood-red cast. He stared at it a moment, contemplating, feeling his dark mood lift.
“Then nothing has changed, de Nerra.”
“Nothing at all, my lord.”
“We shall destroy the enemy.”
“When all is said and done, ours shall be the victory, my lord.”
“Long live the rebellion against the king. Semper fidelis.”
“Dei gratia.”
“By the grace of God, indeed.”
The knight collected his cup and lifted it high, clanking it against his lord’s goblet in a show of support. They drank a toast, one of success to a battle yet to be fought. And also for the war they had already struggled long and hard for.
Later that night, into the darkness a missive was sent.
Year of our Lord 1208, 13th of January
Rodstone House, London
Lord de Rivington:
It is my duty to inform you of my nephew Ridley’s death. Having newly received his spurs, he arrogantly taunted a few of the squires that had yet to be knighted and a group of them retaliated. Ambushing him in the stables, they placed his helm, which had been smeared with tar, upon his head and lowered the visor, holding it fast until he suffocated. I do not find it strange that this has happened, for I am sure you are well aware of my nephew’s foul reputation. It was only a matter of time before someone moved against him.
As his only living male relative, I find it my duty not only to inform you of Ridley’s death but to make obligation to fulfill the marriage contract instituted by my brother and Ridley’s deceased father, Sir Lloyd de Lacy. By law and rights, it is my duty as the closest unwed de Lacy male to assume my nephew’s stead. Therefore, the marriage between de Rivington and de Lacy will go forth and the alliance shall be forged.
By terms of the contract, the wedding shall take place upon your daughter’s eighteenth birthday, the 10th day of May this year. It is my intention to return her to London where she will take her rightful place as my Lady wife.
Preston de Lacy
Earl of Barklestone
“Thanks be to God,” the mother quietly wept. “She will not have to marry Ridley.”
The father, parchment still clutched in his hand, appeared pale and drawn. “God’s Teeth,” he murmured. “I cannot believe the lad actually got himself killed.”
The mother wiped her damp eyes. “As much as I cannot condone murder in any form, I must say that, in this case, it was a blessing. Ridley de Lacy was a devil. The world has been done a great justice, I think, and I thank God that Teddy will not have to marry him.”
“Nay.” The father was having a difficult time covering his shock. “She will have to marry the earl instead.”
The mother looked up. “We know nothing of Barklestone. Can we know that Teddy will be better off to marry him?”
The father refused to look at her. His eyes, the color of the sea, were distant. “Preston de Lacy is a powerful man, an earl with much wealth and power. And he is part of the rebellion against King John.”
The mother failed to notice the anxiety in her husband’s voice. She was only concerned with her own emotions, those of relief and fear for the future of her child. “But will he be good to her?”
The father couldn’t answer.
He couldn’t tell her the truth.
Ashen and speechless, he turned away from his wife, staring into the flames of the dying hearth and feeling a sense of foreboding sweep him like nothing he had ever known. What he had planned for, schemed for, was coming to bear in an unanticipated direction and he could not decide how to feel about it. He knew he should have been eager. But he realized, as the moments ticked away, that he was only afraid. Instead of marrying the cub, his daughter was about to marry the lion himself.
So, it begins…
CHAPTER TWO
May, 1208 A.D.
Cerenbeau Castle, Herefordshire
“You are lovely, darling. Like an angel.”
The beautiful face beneath the garland of filigree gold and spider-web fine silk was serious, grim. Eyes the color of the sea studied the reflection in the polished glass mirror.
“I do not like it,” she said quietly.
The older woman standing beside her tried not to look crestfallen. To hide her disappointment, she began to fuss with the blue brocade gown. The neckline and cuffs were lined with white ermine, indicative of the status of the marriage she would soon be entering into. But in the early part of May, the humidity of summer was already swelling and the fur was irritating. Teodora “Teddy” de Rivington scratched her neck in a most un-ladylike manner.
“Teddy, stop it,” her mother scolded, slapping her hands away. “You’ll mark yourself with welts.”
After another few swipes, Teodora stopped. Impatiently, she stood as her mother finished the final touches on her wedding gown. Behind her, she could feel a second pair of hands running themselves f
reely over her backside.
“Teddy, you are as thin as a reed.” The spindly fingers pinched her through the fabric. “You’ll need to put on weight for your new husband. Men prefer a plump woman, not a skinny girl-child. You’ll be no more than a handful for him.”
Teodora bit her tongue. Her wild-haired grandmother continued to probe, running her hands over Teodora’s abdomen and breasts, and finally her face. Teodora winced as she received a finger in the eye but said nothing, just as her mother, Lady Antoinette de Rivington, said nothing as her blind mother all but destroyed the filigree and silk garland by inspecting it.
“Pah!” The old woman finally ripped the garland off her granddaughter’s head and tossed it aside. “I don’t like it, either. Too damn pretentious.”
Antoinette protested. “’Tis necessary, Mother. Her head must be properly clad.”
Lady Regal de la Chambre had been a beautiful woman once, years ago when men appreciated simple beauties. But that was before age and blindness had taken their toll. A gnarled old hand grasped the bedpost as the other waved irritably.
“Pah, Toni,” the old woman spat with passion. “A maiden’s head is meant to be uncovered. Unless, of course, you know something that the rest of us do not and Teodora’s head cannot, in good conscience, be left uncovered. Is this true, then?”
“Grandmere…” Teodora groaned.
Antoinette pursed her lips. “My daughter is as pure as rain,” she snapped. “How dare you insinuate otherwise.”
Regal fought a smile. A thin hand reached out with amazing perception of target and stroked Teodora’s cheek. “Ah, she’s not like her mother at this age, now is she?” Antoinette blushed madly and Regal, with a wicked laugh, found her seat on the mattress. “Toni, you were a beautiful girl with dozens of suitors. I should expect you to succumb to the inevitability of human attraction. I never chided you on the fact, did I?”
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 2