The Centurion

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Morley nodded. “The poor lad,” he said. “You’ve had him since birth, ever since I told you of Torston’s bastard son.”

  “Exactly,” Antonia said. “It is quite simple. You told me of the boy and it was I who offered the bastard child a home, out of the goodness of my heart. I helped de Royans hide the bastard, and ingratiated myself to the family, so Triston de Royans was more than willing to accept the offer of a proposed marriage between my daughter and his son. It was an excellent arrangement and based on the strength of the de Weese name, Sir Triston was more than happy to do it.”

  Morley sighed heavily. “You took an infant into your home to use as leverage against the House of de Royans. Against Torston. You did it simply to force them into a bargain.”

  “I took a bastard into my house so the de Royans family would not be shamed.”

  “Where is the boy?”

  “He traveled with us as far as Byrness, ten miles to the south. I left him there with a man who has instructions to kill the boy if anyone other than me comes for him.”

  “That is your leverage?”

  “That is my necessity. I have overlooked Sir Torston’s indiscretion and offered my very own daughter to him in marriage, but if Sir Torston does not do as he is required, it will go very badly for his son.”

  Morley shook his head. “The depth of your heartlessness is astounding,” he said. “The only reason you took Sir Torston’s bastard into your home was because you saw the opportunity to keep our family alive. The money is gone. It has been since Father died those years ago.”

  Antonia knew it was true, all of it, but she would be the last one to admit that she had a grand scheme against the House of de Royans. For her, it was all about survival –

  Hers.

  “You need not act so pious,” she said. “It was you who told me of the child and you who helped concoct the scheme. This is your doing as much as it is mine.”

  That took away some of Morley’s pomp because he knew she was right. He had told her about the child and the plan had grown from there. Out of his control to the point where he wanted no part of it, yet had no choice.

  He was complicit.

  “Much is my misfortune,” he muttered. “But here we are.”

  “Indeed. Here we are.” Antonia’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before glancing over at the young woman seated several feet away. “It is especially important that he does not try to back out of the marriage now. Did you take a close look at your niece?”

  Morley looked over at the young woman also. The room was dark but for a small amount of light coming in through the lancet windows, so he couldn’t see her in great detail.

  “What about her?” he asked.

  “Look closely.”

  Morley tried to but he ended up shaking his head. “What is your meaning? Out with it.”

  Antonia looked over at the small girl more than a dozen feet away. “When was the last time you saw my Lilia?”

  Morley had to think on that. “When the contract with de Royans was signed,” he said. “Twelve or more years, I suppose. I did not even see her when I brought de Royans’ bastard to Elmington House those years ago, but that did not even occur to me until now. Why do you ask?”

  For the first time since entering the chamber, Antonia seemed to lose some of her arrogance. Her features softened and, suddenly, she appeared weary. Old. When she spoke, it was without her usual haughtiness.

  “Because my Lilia passed away eight years ago of a fever,” she murmured for Morley’s ears only. “I did not tell you this because I would not put it in a message, Morley. A message that might be intercepted by others. What you see in her place is a girl that I had to search far and wide for, a girl that looked very much like my Lilia. I had to, you see, or risk losing what we have worked so hard for. I need this marriage, Morley.”

  Morley’s eyes widened. “An imposter?” he breathed. “You have brought an imposter?”

  “As I said, I had to or there would be no marriage.”

  Morley looked at his sister in shock before returning his attention to the young woman sitting demurely near the hearth. In truth, he never would have known she was a substitute for the real Lilia de Weese had his sister not told him. As he’d said, he’d not seen his niece in many years and the last he saw her, she had been a child.

  An eight-year lie was about to secure its ultimate victim.

  “Is that why you came early?” he finally asked. “To hurry along the de Royans contract and have him marry her as soon as possible?”

  Antonia nodded. “Indeed,” she said. “The sooner this contract is sealed, the better. But we’ve come with something more to sweeten the deal.”

  “What?”

  “That Lilia’s brother, through marriage, is the new Duc de Boussac.”

  Morley stared at her. “Lilia doesn’t have a brother.”

  “But Sir Torston doesn’t know that. It will cement this contract more than anything else, for every man wishes to be related to a duke. Every man dreams of the wealth and power that such a relationship can bring him.”

  “Are you mad? What happens when he wants to meet this duke?”

  Antonia had an answer for everything. “Then the duke was killed in France.” She lifted her shoulders in a dismissive gesture. “How tragic.”

  Morley didn’t think any of this was a good idea. They already had the bastard as leverage, so what good would it do to lie about having a duke as a relative? He didn’t even try to question his sister any longer. She had a plan and she was in control. Morley was simply a piece of flotsam in her storm, caught up and tossed around while she controlled the situation.

  This was Antonia’s game now.

  “You are making this far too complicated,” he warned. “If there are too many ends to the spider’s web, you are bound to be caught up in it.”

  “Nonsense,” Antonia said. “Where is Sir Torston, by the way? Surely you will tell him that his intended has arrived.”

  Morley shook his head. “He is not here,” he said. “There was a conference with a local Scots laird at Makendon Castle, to the east. Lord Lionel is with him and I am not certain when they will be returning.”

  Antonia wasn’t disturbed by the news. In fact, she seemed rather glad. “That is of little matter,” she said. “It will give Lilia a chance to rest and be fresh and lovely when Sir Torston arrives. We must have a grand party for her, Morley. Something to introduce her to everyone.”

  Morley didn’t say anything. He was already dreading what was to come, greatly. “I cannot say Torston will be happy to see her,” he said. “You should know that there is a local lady who has her eye on him and even though he’s not shown her an over amount of attention, I believe the feeling is mutual.”

  That drew a reaction from Antonia. “Who is this lady?”

  “She lives at Makendon Castle.”

  Her arched eyebrows lifted. “So he is with her even now?”

  “It is not like that. Her father and brother live there, too. It is all quite proper, I assure you, but you must know of the lady… she is quite persistent.”

  For the first time since arriving at The Lyceum, Antonia began to show some emotion other than arrogance. There was fury in her eyes.

  “Does she throw herself at him?” she asked.

  “She is very fond of him. She follows him wherever he goes.”

  Antonia’s eyes narrowed. “Then she pursues a man who is betrothed,” she said. “’Tis a shameless trollop who would do that. I will fix that.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  “I forbid you to injure or harm her in any way. She is well-liked and her father is a strong ally.”

  Antonia waved him off. “I will not hurt her, at least physically,” she said. “Does she know about the bastard?”

  “I do not know.”

  “That might change her mind about him. She might think twice about her noble knight if she knew h
e bedded a serving wench until she conceived his child.”

  “It was before he even knew Lady Alyx. Sir Torston was young himself when it happened.”

  “Lady Alyx, is it?” Antonia sniffed. “I will kill whatever dream Lady Alyx may have for Sir Torston. Leave it to me.”

  Morley didn’t want to leave anything to her, but he had little choice. He was wrapped up in this scheme against Torston de Royans just as much as his sister was so, unwilling to jeopardize his position of power at The Lyceum, he was forced to keep his mouth shut.

  This was all his fault, anyway. The moment of reckoning had arrived.

  God help them all.

  “I have been thinking about your plans for the Scots, Torston.”

  Travel from one place to another, no matter near or far, always took a massive amount of time because Lionel would only travel one of two ways – on a litter borne by big, burly soldiers, or in a wagon that was so fine, so padded, it looked like it belonged to a queen.

  Unfortunately, because Makendon Castle was less than ten miles from The Lyceum, Lionel chose to travel by litter. God, it was slow going. Horrifically slow going. Even though they’d left Makendon at dawn, it was past noon and they were still plodding along with perhaps an hour more to go until they reached The Lyceum.

  Torston wanted to tear his hair out from sheer boredom.

  But Lionel’s words caught his attention, something to break up the slow-paced monotony.

  “What plans do you speak of, Great Caesar?” he asked.

  “Your inclination to attack the Kerr stronghold,” he said. “I have been thinking on it.”

  That wasn’t something Torston really wanted to talk about after the meeting with Douglas Kerr. He would very much like to raze Luckenburn Tower because of Kerr’s peace terms, but he knew he’d have no such directive from Harringham.

  “What have you been thinking about?” he asked.

  “That you may be right.”

  Torston looked at him. “About what?”

  “Launching an attack against the man. Mayhap it is something we must consider.”

  Torston’s expression rippled with surprise. “Now?” he said. “The man just made a peace proposal.”

  “Indeed, he did.”

  “You made it sound as if you were agreeable.”

  Harringham shook his head. “It is a ruse. I know it is a ruse.”

  Torston’s surprise grew. Not even he thought it was a ruse, and he was suspicious of every Scotsman. “Why would you say that, Great Caesar?”

  “Because the man was doing battle against us only a few days ago and, suddenly, he wants peace? He is trying to weaken us somehow.”

  It wasn’t making any sense but, then again, nothing made sense with Harringham as of late. His eccentricity, which usually had some measure of logic to it, had been slipping over the past year or so. Every day saw it slip a little more, like today.

  This made no sense, not even to Torston.

  “Then why did you not say something to Lord de Ameland?” he asked. “If you were truly suspicious, you should have told him.”

  “It is not my business whether or not he marries his daughter to Kerr.”

  “But he is our ally.”

  “Not if he marries his daughter to Douglas Kerr. He will be our enemy.”

  Torston didn’t like the sound of that at all. “That is not true,” he said evenly. He needed to get the man alone, to reason with him. Not in the earshot of nosy soldiers. “Will you walk with me a moment, Great Caesar? I should like to explain something.”

  Lionel was looking out over the landscape, which was mild and lovely on this day. He had a long stick in his hand, a willow branch, which he used to tap one of his litter bearers on the shoulder.

  The litter came to a halt, as did the entire escort, and the litter was lowered. Lionel climbed off as Torston also dismounted his horse, handing it off to a soldier. He and Lionel walked to the front of the escort so they had room to speak.

  “Now,” Torston said. “Winslow de Ameland has been your steady and strong ally for ten years. He would never betray that alliance. You have known the man well for many years. Do you truly think he would betray you?”

  Lionel found walking difficult in sandals, fashioned after Roman shoes, that really weren’t meant to walk great distances in. They were mostly a flat sole and lots of leather lacings.

  “Mayhap not knowingly,” Lionel said. “But if he marries his daughter to Kerr, then what Winslow knows, Kerr will know. He will be the man’s son. He will be family. We must protect ourselves, Torston.”

  Torston was seriously wondering where all of this paranoia was coming from. Lionel usually wasn’t the paranoid sort but, somehow, something had changed.

  “If you are so concerned over Lord de Ameland, I will keep an eye on him,” he said. “If he shows any signs of treachery, I will inform you at once and we will take action. But until then, do not say or do anything to indicate your concerns. I will take care of Winslow de Ameland for you, Great Caesar. Have I not always kept my word?”

  Lionel looked at him, smiling. “Ever my Centurion, aren’t you?” he said. “You make me proud, Torston.”

  “It is my ambition to serve you flawlessly, Great Caesar.”

  “And you do.”

  “Then trust me. I will tell you if there is something to worry about concerning Lord de Ameland. Do not trouble yourself over him.”

  “I will not. But I still think you may have been right all along. We very well may have to attack Kerr’s stronghold if we are to survive.”

  There it was again, voicing his thoughts on attacking Kerr. Torston could only try to defuse it. “It would be considered dishonorable to do that now that the man has made a peace proposal,” he said. “If de Ameland refuses the marriage proposal, then we may have no choice but to attack simply to prevent Kerr from attacking us.”

  Lionel’s gaze moved over Torston, inspecting the man as he so often did. Lionel had a gaze that could burrow through rock sometimes, intense and probing. Torston had learned not to let it unnerve him.

  “I am tired of skirmishes, Torston,” he said. “If Winslow refuses Kerr, then we must wipe Douglas Kerr from this earth. The great Caesars were not afraid of their enemies. Nor am I.”

  Torston could see that the paranoia would not be easily quelled, quite odd from a man who, up until this moment, had refused the thought of any attack against his enemies. He was hoping this was not about to become the norm of their world.

  “The Lyceum fears no man,” he said, hoping it might satisfy Lionel enough so he would forget whatever disquiet he had, at least for the moment. He came to a halt. “Would Great Caesar prefer to regain his litter?”

  Lionel nodded. “I do not know how the Romans marched those thousands of miles in shoes like these,” he said, stepping on a rock and wincing. “How could men conquer the world in bad shoes?”

  That was more like the Lionel of old, the quirky lord with the sense of humor. Torston grinned as he motioned the litter bearers to bring forth the litter and just as Lionel reached his ridiculously cushioned ride, the soldiers on point began to shout.

  A rider was sighted.

  Leaving Lionel climbing onto his litter, Torston quickly mounted his steed and charged forward to get a good look at who was approaching. His soldiers were already starting to wield their weapons defensively but as the rider drew near, Torston recognized him.

  Jess was approaching.

  They weren’t that far away from The Lyceum, perhaps three or four miles, so Torston was mildly concerned to see Jess. The man wouldn’t have ridden out to meet them without a good reason. He rode out to intercept the man.

  “Jess!” he boomed. “What is amiss?”

  Jess reined his excited horse to an unsteady halt. As the animal danced about, he faced Torston.

  “I have been sent to inform you that Lady Lilia de Weese has arrived,” he said. “Morley told me to tell you that your intended has come earlier than exp
ected.”

  Torston stared at the man for a moment as if he had no idea what he was talking about. “What?” he finally said. “Say again?”

  “Lady Lilia is at The Lyceum.”

  So he hadn’t heard wrong. “Lady Lilia?” Torston repeated, stumped. “She… she is here?”

  “Aye.”

  Torston couldn’t help his reaction; his mouth popped open. He couldn’t help but think of that missive that had come a few months ago, the one requesting a visit to The Lyceum. “Why on earth is she here?” he said. “I’ve not invited her to come. The contract will not come due until the end of the year.”

  Jess shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I was simply asked to inform you of her arrival. Torston, who is she? A relative?”

  Torston stared at the man a moment longer before sighing heavily and removing his helm. He wiped at the sweat that had gathered around his hauberk.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Hopefully, not ever. I am betrothed to the woman, thanks to my father.”

  Now it was Jess’ turn to look surprised. “That’s her?”

  “Indeed.”

  It was clear that Jess didn’t know what to say. The expression on Torston’s face told him that this was not at all a welcome event. Jess knew that Torston was betrothed. He’d heard it a few years ago from someone he couldn’t recall, but it wasn’t something Torston ever spoke of.

  Evidently, for good reason.

  “Well,” Jess finally said. “She has arrived with her entourage and Morley has made them comfortable. He wanted you to know before you returned so that you would be prepared.”

  Torston put his helm back on. “I am not certain that I am prepared, but at least I am forewarned. For that, I thank you.”

  Torston was not a happy man; Jess could see that. He remained with Torston and the incoming party, riding escort at Lionel’s side while Torston rode on the other side, his mind already at The Lyceum. What fresh, new horrors awaited him?

  He would soon find out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN