Exhausted, content, he fell into a deep sleep next to his wife.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Your father is less than a day behind me, my lord,” de Aughton said. “He told me to tell you that Northumberland has sent him to discover the truth about your association with Lady Gray.”
Seated across from de Aughton at the table in the banqueting hall, Braxton’s eyebrows slowly lifted. “Association?”
Niclas’s black eyes flickered; for a moment, he looked uncomfortable. “A missive was delivered to your father from Lord de Vesci on behalf of the Lady Constance Gray de Montfort. Apparently, Lady de Montfort feels that her daughter is with you against your will and has asked Lord de Vesci to intervene. Your father rides to Erith to sort out the situation.”
Braxton, exhausted as he was, found that he wasn’t as in control of his emotions as he usually was. He scowled at de Aughton.
“That is madness,” he hissed, wiping both hands over his face as the news sank in. “I exiled the woman from Erith and somehow she has made her way back to her family in Northumberland, now to spread more lies about me.”
De Aughton wasn’t privy to the politics that had gone on between Lady Constance and Braxton and was unsure how to reply.
“De Vesci is very concerned, apparently; enough to send your father to investigate.”
Braxton just looked at him, sighing heavily. “Lady Constance is a cunning liar and a grand opportunist,” he snapped softly. “That woman has been seeking to destroy me since nearly the moment I met Gray.”
Niclas could see the man was genuinely upset. “I told your father that, from what I witnessed, Lady Gray was not with you against her will,” he wriggled his eyebrows. “I can attest to the fact that she will not be separated from you and I sincerely doubt it is because she is afraid of you or being held hostage.”
In the midst of his outrage, Braxton saw humor in the statement. Whereas before he would not let himself succumb to any emotion in front of Niclas, now, he wasn’t so careful about it. There was no reason to be. He eventually shook his head as if baffled by the entire circumstance.
“Gray and I married because we love one another,” he said simply. “Gray’s mother has been trying to sell off her granddaughter to the highest bidder since the girl came of marriageable age and she is furious that I interrupted her plans by marrying Brooke to one of my knights. That old bitch has been trying my patience since the moment I met her; all of the chaos you saw out in the bailey, the battle scars and damage, are because of her.”
De Aughton toyed with his cup of wine, a better quality product since Braxton and his money had overtaken the keep.
“I saw an army camped about three miles to the east,” he said quietly. “I would assume they are your antagonists?”
Braxton nodded faintly. “They are,” he looked at de Aughton and thought the man might deserve some explanation. “It is Roger de Clare’s army. They are awaiting reinforcements from Gloucester.”
Niclas’ eyebrows lifted. “Gloucester?” he repeated, incredulous. “Why on earth are they harassing you?”
Braxton took a swallow of the Spanish Port wine. “Because Gray’s mother sent a missive to them promising Brooke’s hand in marriage, only Brooke was already married by the time they arrived here to negotiate the contract,” he sighed, glancing around the walls of the great old hall. “In the confusion surrounding that, Roger and his heir were accidentally killed. Gloucester is understandably upset about it and, I would assume, is planning on razing Erith in punishment.”
Niclas understood a great deal in that quiet explanation. Braxton seemed angry more than anything, a fury to which he was indeed entitled. It was an extremely serious matter. But it also brought up another serious issue, one he was hesitant to mention but felt, for the sake of them both, that he must.
“Gloucester and Northumberland are allies,” Niclas’ voice was quiet, hesitant. “Your father serves Northumberland. If he is ordered to support Gloucester, then we have a problem on our hands.”
Braxton looked at him. “My father is sworn to Northumberland but I doubt that it will supersede family ties, and at such time we will indeed have a problem because I am sure my father will support me. It is therefore my father with the problem and not me.”
De Aughton understood that completely. “May I offer advice, my lord?”
Braxton lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Please.”
Niclas set down the cup, his obsidian eyes intense. “Remove Lady Gray and her daughter from Erith immediately,” he said. “The longer you delay, the more chance there will be that you will never be able to remove them from Erith. If Gloucester returns with reinforcements as you have said, then your wife and her daughter will be in mortal danger. I am not sure how your father is going to react to all of this so it is better to remove the women. We could have a bloodbath on our hands with all of these politics converging.”
Braxton nodded slowly, finishing off his wine. “I realize that,” he said. “And I have already made plans to remove them. In fact, they will be vacated from the castle before the day is through.”
Niclas nodded, in complete agreement. “Where are you sending them?”
Braxton wriggled his eyebrows. “You should know that my wife is an exceptionally stubborn woman,” he said. “She does not want to leave Erith no matter how much I plead or threaten, so I resorted to bribery. I am sending her to Lancaster with promises of shopping trips and luxurious accommodations.”
Niclas’ brow furrowed. “You are sending her to the city?”
“Aye.” Braxton noticed an expression of doubt on Niclas’ face. “And why not?”
Niclas realized that Braxton had deciphered his slightly confused countenance and hastened to recover. He didn’t want to seem critical or superior. “I would assume she is staying some place fortified?”
Braxton shook his head. “A very luxurious inn where her every whim will be catered to. I fear it is the only way I could convince her to leave, mostly because her daughter very much wants to go there. If Brooke goes, then Gray will follow.”
Niclas stared at him a moment before shaking his head and averting his gaze. It was clear he disapproved. Braxton caught on and he leaned forward on the table.
“Why do you look so? You disagree?”
Niclas shook his head. Then he shrugged. “In my humble opinion, if Gloucester tracks her to such a place, there will be no protection for her at all. They will be able to take her without a fight and you will find yourself at their mercy.”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “I realize that,” he said. “I am sending her with a contingent of men, designed to protect and watch over her,” he said as if Niclas had pegged him for an idiot. “The men understand that if my wife is followed, they are to remove her immediately. These men are cunning and seasoned; they will not allow her to come to harm.”
Niclas could see that Braxton was riled so he maintained his cool demeanor. “I have no doubt of your foresight, my lord,” he said. “However, if it were me, I would send her to an allied fortress. At least there, you know she would be amply protected and you would not have to worry. Do you not have an ally you can send her to?”
Braxton thought a moment. “Aye,” he said slowly. “There is a castle to the north, near Kendal, called Creekmere. Baron Wenvoe and I have an understanding.”
“Then send her there until this is over. If it were my wife, I would not send her anywhere else for my own peace of mind.”
Braxton stared at the man a moment, digesting his advice, realizing as the fog began to clear that he was absolutely right. Braxton had been trying so hard to appease his wife and daughter that he had been lax in their security, the very reason he was sending them away in the first place. He had let his emotions get the better of him, not the facts that he knew so well. Niclas was correct; if Gloucester caught wind of Gray and Brooke somewhere they could easily breach, then the ladies’ lives would be in far more danger. He would have to suffer t
hrough their tears and denials and do what he felt best; send them to a fortress where they would be protected, even if it was tiny Creekmere.
Braxton finally stood up, realizing he had a lot of work ahead of him, things he had to fix as a result of his own short-sightedness. The time for pleasantries was gone.
“Find my father and tell him the situation,” he said. “Let him know that Gloucester is about to hammer us. Meanwhile, I will send my wife and daughter someplace safe. I thank you for your prudent advice.”
Niclas rose quickly, collecting his helm and heading for the door. “Do you wish for me to escort them, my lord?”
Braxton looked at the man; although he had proven himself reliable and wise since the incident outside of Milnthorpe, he still didn’t trust the man completely where Gray was concerned. Niclas still had that hunger to his eyes when discussing Lady de Nerra and Braxton wasn’t so sure if he sent Gray with the man that he would ever see her again. Still, the coming conflict left him unable to spare Dallas or Graehm to escort the ladies; it would have been desirable to have at least once seasoned knight as their protection. But not de Aughton.
“Nay,” he said after a moment. “I am sure my father will require your services should this situation get out of hand.”
“Your father has ten knights under his command,” Niclas told him. “I can be spared should you require my assistance.”
Braxton’s gaze lingered on him. “You will understand if I decline your offer, de Aughton. Although I appreciate your generosity, I will again say no. Go now and tell my father the situation.”
“By your command, my lord.”
“And tell him to hurry.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Braxton watched Niclas dash from the keep, all the while just the least bit frustrated with himself for not having seen the situation with his wife as clearly as he should have. As he ascended the stairs to their second floor chamber, he ran into Dallas descending from the top floor where he and Brooke slept. A few words to Dallas relayed the situation, the decision, and Dallas heartily agreed.
As Dallas retraced his steps back to the top floor to prepare his wife for her journey to Creekmere, Braxton entered the chamber he shared with Gray only to find her sleeping peacefully. He paused a moment, gazing at her, thinking he’d never in his life loved someone, or something, as much as he loved her. She was everything to him, his very reason for living and breathing. He didn’t want to be separated from her and he didn’t want her to be miserable, but life wasn’t always the ease one hoped for. Just when Gray was beginning to experience the life of love and luxury she deserved, her happiness was about to take another downturn.
So was his.
*
Thomas de Nerra entered the outer gatehouse of Erith Castle, looking around the place with great curiosity. He’d heard of Erith, of course, one of Simon de Montfort’s holdings and knew that the castle had seen great men of history pass through her halls. But the castle around him, though big and bulky and marginally fortified, still seemed like a shell of its former reputation. To him, it looked like a ghost.
Gray stone and much rebuilding met him as he entered the inner bailey. Several of Braxton’s men came out to greet the party, having been told of their impending arrival. A tall, blond knight greeted them formally in the dusty, cluttered inner ward.
“My lords,” Dallas said to the general group dismounting their expensive chargers. “I am Sir Dallas Aston, Sir Braxton’s second in command.”
Thomas turned to the young knight, inspecting the man just as he had inspected the keep; the blue-green eyes missed nothing, as sharp as a hawk.
“Where is my son?” he asked, removing his mail gloves.
Dallas could immediately see the resemblance between father and son. “He will join you shortly,” he replied. “He asks that I escort you to the banqueting hall.”
Thomas grunted, perhaps in disapproval that his son had not been in the ward to greet him, but kept silent on the matter. Leaving de Aughton and his three grandsons in charge of settling the men, he tossed his mail gloves back onto his saddle as he began to follow Dallas across the bailey and towards the newly re-built stairs that led to the keep. It had taken twenty men less than a day to build the flight, which was far sturdier than the original stairs.
The rest of the men were concentrated on building three enormous mangonels, great monstrous sling-shot devices that were positioned in the inner bailey at regular intervals. Erith Castle was built so that the north and west walls were facing a mountainous crag and between the crag and the outerwalls were big ditches that had been dug long ago. Great boulders and remnants of obstacles remained in the ditch, and a military approach from those sides was not the wisest of choices. There were too many obstacles and pitfalls, making the going treacherous.
Therefore, the best manner in which to approach Erith was on her south and east sides where the ground was more level. There was still a big ditch, partially filled with great jutting boulders and swampy water, but it made for a better tactical approach. Based on this, and the fact that Gloucester had come from the south, Braxton had the three mangonels covering the south and west walls.
Men were building furiously and gathering their supply of crude oil in great barrels. They also had a huge supply of quick lime, Sulphur and salt peter from one of Braxton’s enormous supply wagons, creating incendiary devices that they intended to shoot at the enemy. Braxton de Nerra was, if nothing else, legendary for his military cunning and tactics. As Thomas, Robert, Davis and Steven de Nerra watched the extremely precise placement and planning of the defenses, Braxton suddenly appeared at the top of the keep’s stairs.
Davis was the first one to notice him and he suddenly bellowed like a madman, charging up the stairs and grabbing his youngest brother around the waist. He lifted Braxton up, shaking the man as if to shake him to death. Laughing, Braxton clipped his brother on the Adam’s apple and was promptly dropped.
Robert and Steven practically shoved their father aside to get to Braxton. The brothers came together in a clash of joy and affection, handshakes and brotherly hugs going all around until Thomas pushed his way in.
“Braxton,” he demanded in a very fatherly way. “What goes on at this place? What are you doing?”
He was pointing to the mangonels. Braxton went to his father, taking the man’s hand affectionately; it had been years since he’d seen the man, now much older than he had remembered. He let his gaze linger on the man fondly.
“It is good to see you, too, Father,” he said.
Thomas grunted; he’d never been particularly affectionate with his boys but they all adored him and he adored them. Especially Braxton; the man resembled his mother to a fault, the fair Regan, and Thomas was very fond of his youngest. Braxton had always been the strong one, the brilliant one, something that Thomas had missed a great deal when the man had decided not to remain at Black Fell. But he respected his decision, or at least he had until Northumberland send the missive regarding Lady Gray Serroux. Thomas gazed into his son’s eyes, so full of wisdom and life, and finally relented to the emotions with a pat to his son’s rough cheek.
“You look well enough,” Thomas said; it was as close to an affectionate greeting as he could get. Uncomfortable with the emotions he was feeling, he pointed at the mangonel again. “What is all of this?”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow, looking out over the inner bailey and his three big war machines.
“We are preparing for Gloucester’s arrival,” he turned back to his father. “Did de Aughton not tell you everything?”
Thomas nodded. “He told me that you are having some difficulty with Gloucester.”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “Difficulty indeed. The man is trying to kill me.”
Thomas slapped him on the shoulder and turned him for the entry. “Take me inside and feed me. We will speak more of this inside.”
Braxton did as he was told. His brothers brought up the rear, inspecting Erith’s keep as it
opened up into a two-storied banqueting hall. Due to Braxton’s money and the on-going repairs, it looked far better than it had in years, including a roaring fire in the enormous hearth. Robert made his way up to Braxton, a big, gnarled hand on Braxton’s shoulder as they walked.
“So tell me of your acquisition, Braxton,” he said. “Erith Castle used to belong to de Montfort years ago. How did you come by it?”
Braxton looked at his brother. “I did not ‘come by it’,” he said. “I married it.”
“And that is something else!” Thomas suddenly barked. “What is this we hear about you taking a wife? Why did I have to hear about it from another?”
They had moved through the small entry and passed under the great Norman arch that led into the banqueting hall. Just as Thomas boomed his question, an exquisite woman suddenly appeared from the alcove near the kitchen entrance. Dressed in a lovely green surcoat, she had a big earthenware pitcher in her hand. All four men suddenly came to a halt, fixed on the blond beauty with the angelic features. Braxton, fighting off a grin at their astonishment, went to his wife.
“Gentlemen,” he put his arm around Gray’s shoulders and pulled her before his family. “This is my wife, the Lady Gray de Montfort de Nerra. Gray, this is my father, Thomas, and my brothers Robert, Davis and Steven.”
The men were staring at her with some shock and Gray smiled politely, looking into faces that faintly resembled her husband to varying degrees.
“My lords,” she said in her soft, sultry voice. “Welcome to Erith. I am so pleased to meet you all.”
Robert was the first one to push forward and take her hand. “Lady de Nerra,” he said politely. “You have little concept of just how thrilled we are to meet you. We had no idea that Braxton had taken a wife and already I can see that you are far too good for him.”
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 82