He knew, for a fact, that he would not leave Rockingham without her.
“Very well,” he said as he stood up from the bed. “I will go speak to this man de Lara now. Will you introduce me to him?”
Sloan nodded. “I will,” he said. “But before I take you, let me be clear about one thing – Brafe, you have been loyal to John and before him, to Richard and Henry. I am here to tell you that John is not worthy of your loyalty as Richard and Henry were. John is a petty man of greed and lust, and though you show your loyalty to him by pledging to be a good soldier, know that he has no such loyalty to you. The man does not even know you, nor does he care.”
Bradford felt some confusion to those words because he had always been loyal to the crown. But he also felt sorrow because of a king who did not know him and did not care, and who would take his daughter and use her in immoral ways. Perhaps he’d always known that about John; that he was vile and immoral. But his behavior had never before directly affected him.
Until now.
“I never thought I would have to make a choice between my daughter and my king,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet with emotion. “But if I must make a choice, then I shall choose my daughter. My loyalty to the king does not include the destruction of my own flesh and blood.”
“Father?” Teodora stood up from the bed, looking at him anxiously. “Please do not make the king angry. I have seen what he is capable of and if he was to punish you…”
Bradford cut her off, patting her on the cheek. “Not to worry,” he said, giving her a brave, though feigned, smile. “I shall pledge my army to helping him rid Rockingham of these outlaws. He will see that I am, as Sloan says, a good soldier.”
“And then what?”
Bradford’s smile faded. “And then I take you home.” Before she could protest, he held out a hand to prevent her from both speaking and following him. “Once we are home, I will decide what to do about your grandmother. But for now, Sloan is correct – I must focus on you. Stay here while I see this man de Lara and I will return to tell you everything that is said.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
That seemed to pacify her and Bradford departed the chamber with Sloan and Anthony in tow. But once the door was shut behind them and they were well into the corridor leading to the mural stairs, Bradford came to a halt and turned to Sloan.
“Know this,” he hissed. “I do not know all of the madness going on with the king and my daughter, but I will tell you now that if I do this and help him with the ambush against the outlaws, and he refuses to let my daughter return with me, know that I am not leaving Rockingham without her.”
Sloan nodded, a knowing gesture. “I suspected as much.”
Bradford hesitated a brief moment before continuing. “I hold a vast estate, Sloan,” he said, lowering his voice. “You know that it is wealthy. I will give you a full share of it if you help me remove my daughter from Rockingham. From the sounds of what has been going on, the king may look at my Teddy as a prize not to be relinquished.”
Sloan was, if nothing else, a greedy opportunist, and a desperate father was a welcome sight to him. The Cerenbeau fiefdom was, indeed, quite wealthy, with sheep and other products that made it so. Sloan had known Bradford long enough to know that the man was, indeed, rich in coinage and in lands, and having no lands of his own, Sloan was quite interested in Bradford’s offer.
Quite interested.
“We are friends, Brafe,” he said, trying not to sound like he was gleeful at the offer. “But in helping you against the king, it comes with some risk. If you are serious in your offer, then I am willing to risk myself to help you take your daughter home. In truth, I would not have written to you about her if I had not been willing to risk myself in some way.”
Bradford drew in a long breath, relieved by Sloan’s acceptance. “Thank you,” he said. “You are a true friend.”
Sloan didn’t really think so, but he smiled nonetheless. He was willing to be friends with anyone who was willing to pay the price.
And Bradford was.
A few minutes later, Bradford de Rivington was introduced to Sir Sean de Lara, and the offer of the de Rivington army was made to Sean to help with the outlaw ambush. Given that Sean truly hated anything to do with the king’s barbarous mercenary horde, he was more than willing to accept the help of a disciplined English army, led by Lady Barklestone’s father. It all seemed rather odd to Sean, but he didn’t much care. The more men he had, the better this operation would go.
Everything was starting to fall into place.
Tomorrow, the outlaws would be no more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Near the village of Weekley
The next day
The rain was pounding.
It was just after dawn on a stormy morning as Cullen and his highly-trained group of outlaws made their way through the southern tip of Blackthorn Forest to the copse of trees that lined the road that narrowed just north of the village of Weekley. To Cullen, this was the best possible place to ambush a rich lord and his weak escort because they could fall back into the forest and lose themselves in the trees, heading back to Owen’s outlaw village where everyone was nearly packed and ready to move.
Purposely, they’d traveled on foot, leaving the horses back at the encampment and Cullen had to admit he was already missing Phaethon’s formidable presence. But given the fact that they wanted to stay concealed and move quietly, the animals had been left behind.
Men on foot could move with more stealth.
News of the mercenaries at Rockingham had hit Owen’s people hard. There was genuine fear in the air. They’d been packing all night, bundling up what they could carry, while Owen had sent out a few men to scout the Fermyn Wood to find a place where they could gather. More than anything, it was important to Owen that his people stay together. They had survived this long and he intended they should continue to not only survive, but to thrive.
As the outlaws prepared to move out before dawn, it had been difficult for Owen to leave Delaine. His wife was in charge of the village while he was away and, in many ways, she was a better task master than he was but, still, Owen didn’t want to leave her, not with a thousand mercenaries so close. But he knew there was little choice, as he wanted to be part of the ambush, and he further knew that Delaine was fully capable. His people would be ready to leave at a moment’s notice with his wife in charge, so he felt confident as he departed with his men.
Confident that Cullen’s plan, and the plan for his people, would succeed.
Cullen, in fact, was fully in command of the ambush. Owen and the others were just along for the ride. There was a great sense of anticipation as the mist began to lighten and the sun began to rise, and Cullen had estimated the time it would take the rich lord to pass through the narrowed section of road. If the man and his party had lodged in Harrowden or Kettering the night before, he guessed it would be mid-morning before they began to see any sign of them on the road. With the heavy mist, it would be difficult to see them from a distance, so Cullen sent men down the road to watch it, using bird calls as signals of approaching victims.
In truth, there wasn’t much more they could do.
Still in the semi-darkness, Cullen split up his men and sent half to the western side of the road with Jerald, while he and Owen remained on the eastern side. Because the area itself was rather swampy, there were many places for them to hide in dense foliage or lay low in ditches half-filled with water.
It was very cold, and uncomfortable, but Cullen was certain the diligence would pay off. Once they ambushed the rich lord and took his coinage, that money would be put into safekeeping for the day when Owen was able to regain control of Geddington Castle. Perhaps to even pay for hired soldiers to help him regain it. In any case, Cullen was doing this, all of this, to strike back at Barric Fitz Hammond.
That goal had never changed.
“It is possible that, with the mist, our victim’s
travel will be delayed,” Owen whispered, cutting into Cullen’s thoughts. He was a few feet away, positioned behind a great ash tree. “Have you considered sending men to the larger road that goes to Corby?”
Cullen was soaking wet, clad in his usual dark tunic with the hood pulled over his bearded head. “I do not believe they will use that road,” he said. “If I am a great lord with a good deal of money on my person, then I am not going to take the road better traveled. I would want to be as inconspicuous as possible.”
Owen looked at the man, leaning against a tree as water dripped from the tip of his nose. “And you are convinced of this?”
“I am.”
Owen’s gaze moved to the road beyond the trees, wet with rain. “Monty, I have been thinking something,” he said. “If we manage to procure a great deal of money today, you are entitled to more than your share. This entire operation has been your idea and the men would not protest if you took the lion’s share of the coinage. What would you do with such money?”
Cullen looked up into the trees, at the canopy overhead, thinking on his reply. “Keep it,” he said simply. “It is not as if I have anything, or anyone, to spend it on.”
Owen could hear resignation in his tone, that same painful resignation he heard every time the subject of his past, or his private life, came up. After all these months of working side by side with Cullen, of facing life and death with him like they were now, Owen still didn’t know the man’s real name or anything about his background. But he knew instinctively that he was a great knight. Everything about their mountain of a man reeked of greatness.
“Monty, I will ask you a question and you do not have to answer it, but I would like to know,” he said. “You said once that I would not believe who your liege was. Will you tell me now?”
Cullen’s gaze was on the road. “Does it matter?”
“It does not. But I have trusted you with many things, including the knowledge of who and what I am, but you have never trusted me with the same. If I were easily offended, that might upset me.”
He had a point. Cullen continued to stare at the road as water dripped from his face. “It is not that I do not trust you,” he said. “It is difficult for me to put into words, but I will try. Speaking of my past, and of who I am, somehow makes my fall from grace real. It puts into words what I have lost and that makes it tangible. If I am only Monty to you, a man with no past and no future, it is easier for me to wake up every morning and face what I must. It is easier for me to ignore what I have lost.”
That made some sense to Owen, but not enough. “Yet your companion is the grandmother of your dead love,” he said quietly. “Surely looking at her every day reminds you of what you have lost.”
Cullen nodded. “She is a reminder and a comfort at the same time,” he said. “I know that does not make any sense, but I cannot seem to let her go. She is my only link to what once was.”
Owen simply nodded, his gaze moving to the road beyond as the rain fell around them. “Then I pray that someday you no longer need that link,” he said. “You are a strong, bright, and noble man, Monty. I pray that someday that the hole within you heals. When it does, know there is a conversation I must have with you.”
“About what?”
Owen hesitated a moment before answering. “Delaine has asked me to speak to you,” he said. “We will speak of it another time.”
“You cannot say such things and not have me mad with wonder. Speak now.”
Owen sighed. “It is about Dessa,” he muttered. “My wife’s bold little sister is quite fond of you. I believe that, with time, she will make a good wife. She comes from a good family and she is an educated woman, believe it or not.”
Cullen wasn’t surprised at the topic. He’d had the feeling over the past few months that something like this might be coming up. The way Dessa looked at him sometimes told him that she had her eye on him. He had absolutely no interest in the woman but he didn’t want to offend Owen. He tried to be tactful.
“If I was looking for a wife, I would consider it,” he said. “But I am not looking for a wife. I know you mean well, Owen, and I am honored that you would consider me for Dessa, but the woman I loved… she is the only wife I will ever want.”
Owen turned to look at him. “For now,” he said. “But not forever. When your grief fades, you may find interest in a mother for your sons. All I ask is that you keep Dessa in mind. Do not make that woman a burden on me any longer than necessary.”
Cullen grinned in spite of himself. “I will keep her in mind,” he said. Then, he sobered, the only sound around them that of the falling rain. That went on for some time. When he finally spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “William Marshal.”
Owen looked at him curiously. “What about William Marshal?”
“You asked who my liege is.”
Owen’s eyes widened. “William Marshal is your liege?”
“Aye.”
In Owen’s mind, that took Cullen from a noble, well-educated knight to an elite warrior. William Marshal only had the best of the best in his team of knights.
“God’s Blood, Monty,” he hissed. “If The Marshal is your liege, then you must be one of the best knights England has to offer. The man would not tolerate anything less. And you now live the life of a common criminal?”
Cullen sighed heavily. “I ask myself that every single day,” he said. “But I will say this; serving with you, and coming to know you and your band of outlaws, has been an experience I will never forget, Owen. You do not deserve what you have been dealt in life and, with God as my witness, I will do all I can to help you regain your lands. Even if I have to take your case to William Marshal himself.”
Owen couldn’t dare to hope. “You are a good man, Monty,” he said quietly. “I hope your life is restored to you one day because, surely, you also do not deserve what you have been dealt in life.”
“Iustitiae faciet illis dominus vineae,” Cullen muttered. “Justice will be ours, Owen. Mark my words.”
Before Owen could reply, they began to hear the sounds of birds in the distance. Knowing that was a signal from the men down the road, signaling the approach of travelers, they both dropped low, peering through the foliage. It was still very misty, with the fog lying low on the ground, so when they did see the carriage, it would nearly be on top of them.
Hearts pounding with anticipation, the wait began in earnest.
Rockingham Castle
The rain was endless and heavy, soaking man and beast alike. The winter-dead land was swamped with water, as it simply wasn’t cold enough to turn the rain to snow.
It was simply wet.
As the rain poured and the land suffered, in the solar of Rockingham’s keep, there was another kind of suffering going on as Teodora was living something of a nightmare. It was morning on the day that de Lara had taken all of the armies out of Rockingham, including her father and Anthony, to ambush the outlaws that he was so certain would strike today. That left Rockingham with occupants Teodora would just as soon not keep company with, but as long as they knew she was there, they would demand her presence.
By mid-morning, the king had summoned her again.
Chadwick had appeared on her doorstep with a message from the king, who wanted Teodora to join him after she’d dressed. Chadwick had lied to the man and told him that Teodora was still ill, but that didn’t seem to matter. John wanted to see her, and see her he would, so Teodora took a great deal of time dressing before accompanying Chadwick down to the solar where not only the king awaited, but Barric and Sloan as well. It was a chamber of horrors as far as Teodora was concerned.
She didn’t want any part of it.
Before she’d left her chamber, however, she’d put the red powder around her nose and eyes again, hoping to look sicker than she had the day before, and Chadwick fully supported her ruse. Once she entered the solar, John directed her far away from him, over to the hearth, where she was instructed to sit. Sit she did, and even
now she sat and watched John and Barric play a board game called Draughts. John was winning, or at least Barric was allowing him to win, and the king snapping his fingers in delight every time he beat Barric at a round, making that utterly annoying habit part of his victory process.
It was tiresome and dreary as the minutes passed with agonizing slowness, but Teodora tried to behave herself. She sniffled into her kerchief, noticing that she was wiping the red powder off her nose every time she did and tried to conceal the fact. Chadwick stood with Sloan over by the players, watching the king win his game and praising his prowess at Barric’s expense. Meanwhile, Teodora was becoming so bored that she was about to go out of her mind because it became clear that John simply wanted her there so he could look at her, which he did quite frequently.
She made sure that she was looking away.
The chair she was sitting in was not very comfortable, giving her a pain in her back, so after a couple of hours of sitting, Teodora stood up and paced casually in front of the hearth, pretending to warm herself. She’d dressed heavily on this dreary day, making sure to conceal her rounded belly, but it was difficult to keep attention drawn away from it because whatever she’d eaten for her morning meal, bread with melted cheese, was giving her indigestion. When she wasn’t pretending to sneeze, she was trying not to belch.
In truth, she was rather uncomfortable.
“Lady Barklestone,” the king said, trying to catch her attention. “Surely you know a song you can sing to us. I command it.”
Horrified, Teodora turned to look at him. “Your Highness, it would be the worst offense possible if I were to sing for you,” she said. “I cannot sing at all.”
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 37