by Lynn Kurland
With that cheery thought to keep him company, he put on his grimmest expression, then went to give his commands to the trio of guardsmen he’d brought with him.
And he ignored the fact that Robin had advised him to bring more. He would manage with the men who had served him freely, or not at all. It likely would have taken a king’s ransom to convince anyone else to darken Sedgwick’s unsteady gates. Unfortunately, given the condition of his new home, he suspected he was going to need most all of his gold to repair his foundations.
Besides, ’twas his own castle he faced. Why would he need more lads than he had there already?
It took less time than he’d hoped to reach the keep and even less time to realize that he was indeed expected. The guardsmen leaning negligently over the barbican gate managed lethargic wigglings of their fingers as he rode under the walls. Montgomery ignored the insult partly because there was no sense in beginning his life there with a battle and partly because he was too distracted by the depth and quantity of horse droppings and other refuse layered over his inner courtyard to work up any anger. The layer of muck finally became too thick and his horse—not a beast in the slightest bit inclined to balking—balked in front of the great hall door.
It swung open with creaks that could have been heard leagues away and out tumbled a ragtag group of souls he honestly couldn’t begin to identify. Garrison knights? Servants? Cousins? It was difficult to tell given that they were all equally filthy and unrelentingly bad mannered.
Montgomery glanced at his brothers. All three were wearing expressions befitting the battle-hardened warriors they were. Even the young lads were frowning severely, stealing looks now and again at their fathers to no doubt make sure they were getting it right. His own guardsmen were looking terribly unimpressed, as if they would require a tripling of the castle’s occupants rushing at them to force them to even yawn.
Montgomery would have smiled if he’d had it in him, but he didn’t, so he refrained.
He was grateful that Robin was keeping his bloody mouth shut, though he supposed he shouldn’t have expected anything else now that the battle was upon them. His brother might have been impossibly arrogant and endlessly annoying, but he was the future lord of Artane and well aware of how to act that part. And whilst Sedgwick was, from all outward appearances, not much more than an open cesspit with a keep placed strategically nearby, Montgomery was lord of it and as such deserved respect.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t earned a bit of it. He’d spent the last nine years with spurs on his heels either making his fortune in tourneys on the continent or building alliances at supper wherever court was being held. When he hadn’t been at home being insulted by his brothers, he had been moving about in the world of Henry’s nobles without misstep. That had brought him renown for his skill in battle and no small number of women wanting to see if he was capable of the same sort of exploits in the bedchamber. He supposed he had become just as famous for the number of offers he’d turned down.
He was perhaps too much a romantic in some ways and not nearly enough of one in others.
He looked back at the souls who peopled his new home and decided he would introduce himself, and then see if he couldn’t encourage at least a few of them to brave an encounter with the water in the horse trough. He couldn’t determine who came with his new home until he could determine what—and who—they were.
He anticipated that the day would drag on endlessly, and he wasn’t disappointed.
An hour later he had counted a score-and-four surly garrison knights and a kitchen staff comprised of five maids, three scrawny lads under the age of eight, and a portly, unpleasant-looking cook who seemingly did more eating than cooking. The rest of his household included three obviously overworked serving gels, a clutch of randy serving lads, and a trio of sullen, disagreeable cousins who didn’t bother to either stand or offer greeting when he approached. The only bright spot was his new steward, who was seemingly impervious to the unpleasant looks sent his way by not only those Sedgwick cousins but their mother as well.
He supposed he could understand his cousins’ irritation. They had had the run of the keep for the whole of their lives whilst their father Denys had held Sedgwick in trust for Montgomery’s father. When Denys had died and the keep returned to Rhys’s possession, it had been well within Rhys’s rights to do with it as he saw fit.
Montgomery still wasn’t sure if it had been a very unpleasant joke on his father’s part or something else, but he supposed the time for thinking on that was not now. He had a household to see to.
A long day? He suddenly realized it was going to be a very long life.
At sunset he climbed the stairs of one of the four guard towers and walked out onto the battlements. The two guards there glanced briefly his way, then went back to talking about the apparent bounty of ripe serving wenches in the village over the hill.
Montgomery leaned his hip against the wall—after making sure he wouldn’t go through it and fall into the cesspit—and folded his arms over his chest. He watched the men steadily until they finally turned and looked at him.
“What d’ye want?” the first asked disdainfully.
That the other didn’t catch his breath at the arrogance was telling enough. Montgomery didn’t suppose it would serve him to kill off his entire garrison and start afresh, especially when some of the lads no doubt had families and he would be robbing wives and children of their husbands and fathers, but he also couldn’t have any about him but men loyal to him and obedient to his commands.
He looked at the closest of the two men.
“I’ll see you in the lists first thing,” he said with absolutely no inflection in his voice. “Your friend will have his turn immediately thereafter.”
“And if I says ye nay?” the first asked with a sneer.
Montgomery shrugged. “Try it and see.”
The man put his shoulders back and spat at Montgomery’s feet. “Then, na—”
Montgomery took hold of him before he could squeak, then heaved him up and over the wall. There was a splash, then silence. The second man looked at Montgomery with wide eyes.
“ ’E can’t swim.”
“Can you?”
“Nay, milord,” the second said quickly. “I beg ye, don’t heave me over to follow ’im.”
“Then go down to what seems to pass for the moat by more pedestrian means,” Montgomery said calmly, “and fetch your mate. After you’ve cleaned him up a bit, I suggest you noise about the garrison that I’ll see them all in the morning, one by one, until we’ve come to a right understanding about who is lord here.”
The man nodded, bowed, then rushed toward the tower door. He stopped suddenly, then turned back.
“Who’ll man the walls, then, my lord?”
“I’ll see to this watch,” Montgomery said, “then I’ll have one of my own men take the rest of the night. And so it will continue until I’ve determined whom I can trust.”
The man nodded uneasily, then walked swiftly away.
Montgomery watched him go, then turned to look over the countryside. The castle might have been an absolute wreck, but the surrounding countryside, dressed as it was in the first hints of its fall finery, was quite lovely. It was the same view he’d had from the bluff at dawn, but somehow, seeing it from the roof of his own keep lent it a more personal air. He wouldn’t be at all displeased to look at it for the rest of his life. He loved the sea, true, and he’d lived on its edge quite happily for his youth, but he could easily be content with gentle hills, lush fields, and thick forests.
He put his hands on what was left of the wall, not because he needed to hold himself up, but because he didn’t want anyone to possibly see their shaking. It was one thing to be the youngest son of the most powerful lord in the north of England and have the extent of his tasks be to arrive on time in the lists and show well. It was also one thing to take that sword skill and cut a swath through the continent where all he had to manage was vanquishin
g all challengers and being witty at supper. Even the task of inheriting a castle that was intact, with a useful garrison, a well-stocked larder, and all his enemies confined to the area outside the gates would have been one thing.
But this . . . this was something else entirely.
The creak of the door opening to his left had him turning with his sword half out of its sheath before he realized it was only Robin. He resheathed his sword with a sigh as his brother held up his hands in surrender and came to stand next to him without comment. Montgomery knew that couldn’t possibly last, so he decided to have the sermon over with sooner rather than later.
“Well?” he asked, looking at his brother darkly.
Robin blinked. “Well, what?”
“I assume you came to bestow your vast wisdom upon my poor, hapless self. Please be quick about it.”
“Surprisingly enough, I came to hear what you thought.”
Montgomery let out his breath slowly. “Truly, there are no words.”
“No one’s tried to kill you yet,” Robin offered, “unless you count what your cook delivered up for supper as an attempt to do just that.” He shuddered delicately. “That was vile.”
“You didn’t have to stay. I thought you were headed for Grandmère’s bounteous table.”
Robin didn’t answer. He merely stood there in silence for so long that Montgomery finally looked at him in irritation.
“What?”
Robin smiled faintly. “Montgomery, I worry about you. Why don’t I go to Grandmère’s and fetch you a few bottles of her finest? You can begin your return to being tolerable company with a glass of fine wine after dinner each night—”
Montgomery turned on him. “And just where will I put those bottles, Robin?” he asked shortly. “In my very fine cellar full of diligent servants? Or perhaps under the guard of my garrison who have gone to fat eating my winter stores? Or nay, perhaps rather I should ask our cousins who have welcomed me with open arms to watch over my goods? You tell me which, since you’re so full of useful things to say.”
Robin shook his head. “You used to be so lighthearted. Nay, you were never lighthearted, but you used to be pleasant. What happened?”
Montgomery hardly knew where to begin. Aye, perhaps he had been almost lighthearted now and again in the past, but that had been lost somewhere along the way. Perhaps it had begun with the keeping of many secrets. Added to that, he’d been weighed down by responsibility, by years of being prudent, of always being the one in charge, or never taking a single moment for his own happiness. He’d had his duty to his father, to his name, to his king, to his future bride and children whom he was actually fairly certain he would never have because he was too busy seeing to all the things no one else wanted to see to. But leisure? Nay, he would have none of that any time soon.
Robin studied him in silence. “I was provoking you before,” he said seriously. “Forgive me. It might have been ill-advised.”
Montgomery only looked at him steadily.
“Very well, I was an arse. I’m offering now to stay and do what you need. I will even go so far as to fight with my left if you need your garrison worked, so I don’t reveal my true skill and terrify them beyond being useful to you.”
Montgomery didn’t want to smile, but he couldn’t help himself. Robin’s arrogance wasn’t at all misplaced, and the truth was, Robin fighting with his left instead of his right was likely enough to terrify the garrison past reason just the same.
“And I will leave Phillip with you,” Robin added.
Montgomery shook his head. “Too dangerous.”
Robin waved dismissively. “The lad’s cannier than he seems. He might be useful to you. Besides, fear over what I’ll do to you if you lose my son will give you an added measure of courage and determination.”
“No doubt.”
“I’m not leaving you completely without the means to keep him safe. You have your personal lads, to be sure, and reinforcements have arrived as well. Well, if you can call him that.”
“Indeed?” Montgomery asked in surprise. “Who has come?”
“Everard of Chevington,” Robin said unenthusiastically. “Apparently his sire has decided that his elder brother Roland would be a better manager of his property, so he took the keep and the title away from Everard and gave it to Roland.” Robin shook his head. “The perils of having a father who is mad, I daresay. He claims he has come to offer you his sword. I think he has come to eat through what remains of your larder and mock you for the holes in your foundation.”
Montgomery shrugged. “He squired well enough for Father and he hasn’t been an unloyal friend to me since then.”
“That is a rousing endorsement.”
“Robin, at the moment I’ll take anyone who isn’t coming at me with blade bared.”
“I won’t remind you that I advised you to bring more than your trio of lads,” Robin said airily, “though I suppose the four of you could see to the cousins and the garrison easily enough.” He pushed away from the wall, sending a bit of it down into the cesspit as a result. He peered over the edge, then looked at Montgomery. “I’d clean up that rot down there sooner rather than later. You’ll never get a gel to come across that bridge if that’s what she fears falling into.”
“Attracting a bride is the last thing I’m worried about.”
“I wouldn’t wait overlong,” Robin said, brushing stray bits of rock off his hands and turning toward the guardtower door. “I should think you’d like to marry before you reach two score.”
“I’ve considered that.”
“Perhaps you should consider some sort of otherworldly help.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I’m fairly sure Denys’s lady, Gunnild, is a witch. She might have some species of beautifying herbs for your visage, or perhaps a perfume to leave you smelling less like horse. Who knows? Perhaps Fate will send you a faery to appease your discriminating tastes.”
Montgomery shot him a look. “I don’t believe in faeries.”
“Don’t you?”
Montgomery gritted his teeth. “Are you helping?”
Robin only laughed and continued on his way.
Montgomery turned and stared gloomily over his new surroundings. Aye, magic was indeed what he might need, and a goodly amount thereof. There wasn’t a woman of his acquaintance who would have set foot on that bridge, much less cross it to stomp through ankle-deep muck to get to the front door, never mind what she would find after she’d gained the hall itself.
He looked up into the heavens and watched as the first stars of the evening began to appear. He had done that often in his youth, standing on his father’s battlements and watching the twilight fade to evening when the skies had been clear enough to do so. He supposed he could admit without too much shame that he had, now and again, dreamed of his future where he might be lord of a sturdy, useful castle filled with honorable men who looked up to him and fought alongside him when the time came. Perhaps he also could have been forgiven for filling that imaginary castle with beautiful tapestries, tuneful music, and a lovely gel who might enjoy both.
It had never occurred to him that his reality might be so completely different from what he’d hoped for.
He shook his head at his own foolishness. Sedgwick was not what he’d dreamed of, but he was damned fortunate to have anything to call his own. He would make it into something respectable and leave the dreaming to lads with more stars in their eyes than he had in his. He’d obviously eaten something that day that had ruined his good sense. The next thing he knew, he would begin revisiting his boyhood fascination with all things magic—
He froze. Then leaned carefully on the wall and looked down at the end of his drawbridge. Had that been a flash?
Surely not. ’Twas too late in the day for sunlight on steel and there was no one there with a torch that far away from the keep. It was almost as if something, well, otherworldly . . . He felt his mouth fall open. He’d seen that particular sort of shimmer before—
Montgomery looked at Robin, who had paused by the guard tower. “What?” he asked hoarsely.
Robin looked down at the bridge, frowned deeply, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said slowly. “Nothing at all.”
Montgomery shut his mouth with a snap. He was weary from a rather trying day and wasn’t entirely sure he would survive the night with the foxes lying in wait for him below. He would consign anything he might or might not have seen to his imagination playing tricks with him, because the very last thing he wanted to encounter in his immediate future was anything that shimmered or sparkled or forced him to face anything that didn’t carry a very long sword and need training. He dragged his hands through his hair, then turned and walked off his roof.
He found Ranulf, the captain of his trio of guardsmen, then asked him to walk what was left of the battlements. Sedgwick wasn’t going to be attacked by anything more interesting than the stench from the moat, so he supposed there was little point in making certain the rest of his men were at their duties. That would come on the morrow when he began his remaking of the garrison.
At least there, the only magic he would need would come from his sword.
Chapter 4
Pippa wasn’t one to panic unnecessarily, but she decided that if ever there had been a moment to indulge in it, it was the present moment.
“Can you just slow down?” she squeaked.
Her sister Tess shot her a look, then turned back to frowning fiercely at the road. “I’m only doing forty.”
“Yes, but the road is tiny and you’ve already knocked off my side mirror on something buried in that hedge.”
“It’s a stone wall,” Tess said, swinging out from behind a very large truck that was also going along at a ridiculous clip and flooring the gas to blow past him. “Probably eighteenth century, but that isn’t my era, so don’t quote me.”