Brynner grunted. “’Tis not food I need but a drink,” he said. “Any tavern will do.”
Bramley eyed him with some disgust. “If you must.”
“I must.”
Bramley shook his head and turned around, facing the road ahead. “You are a truly pathetic creature.”
Brynner didn’t say anything to the man. He simply eyed him balefully before looking away. They had an odd relationship, the two of them, each one wanting something from the other. That didn’t mean they had to like each other, and Brynner certainly wasn’t willing to give up the prospect of that winery in France or the fifty men and the sack of fifty gold crowns. Therefore, he kept his mouth shut for the sake of peace. He’d come this far, after all.
The road they were traveling on was the road that ran north-south along the east side of Rombald’s Moor where Shadowmoor was situated. The road came up from Leeds, through Bramley’s lands, and paralleled the mountainous moor before curving to the west once the moor became flat ground again. The road then continued on and carved a path right through Siglesdene.
From the curve of the road, however, they actually ended up entering the town from the northeast. There were people about, conducting business, and the entire road and town were generally busy. There were literally hundreds of people about on this day, hurrying to conduct their business in between rain storms. Therefore, Bramley and his party couldn’t have known that entering the town from the southwest at that very moment was Daniel and the party from Shadowmoor.
The best-laid plans of men were often interrupted by forces beyond their control. The two parties were moving closer and closer to one another, neither one of them would be aware of the other until it was too late.
*
“I want the black one!”
Gunnar was referring to the puppy that was madly licking his face. In fact, he was on the ground of the livery stable, in the dirt, as six wriggly puppies all tried to jump on him and lick his face. Once again, the boy was in doggy heaven.
Daniel, Liselotte, and Caston stood by, watching the canine madness. In the busy livery, they’d managed to find the big black dog that had six equally black puppies. There was also a second litter that Daniel had been unaware of, only seen when they’d entered the stable to see the black litter. The livery owner was more than happy to sell Daniel puppies because he had an abundance of them, so Daniel crouched down beside Gunnar as the boy hugged the squirming dogs.
“They are all black from what I can see,” he said to the boy. “And did you see the second litter over in the next stall that the livery owner pointed to?”
Gunnar shook his head. “I like these dogs.”
Daniel laughed softly. “And they like you,” he said. “But let us follow this course, Gunnar; since there are no longer any dogs at Shadowmoor, mayhap we should make it so that there are many. Pick out four puppies; two males from this litter and two females from the other litter, and we shall return them to Shadowmoor and hope they populate it with many more dogs.”
Gunnar was thrilled. “I will!” he exclaimed. “I will name them, too!”
“What will you name them?”
“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John!”
Behind him, Daniel could hear Liselotte and Caston laugh. The boy was once again reciting names he’d learned from the priests, names from the Bible. “But those are all male names,” he pointed out. “Remember what I told you about the goats? I doubt a male goat would like to be called Mary. I also doubt that a female dog would like to be called John.”
Gunnar simply grinned and Daniel shook his head at the lad, patting his head before he stood up and faced Liselotte and Caston.
“We can leave him here to pick out his dogs while we cross the street to the seamstress’ stall,” he said, motioning to the livery owner and pointing to the boy to indicate he was leaving him with the puppies. When the livery owner nodded, Daniel and Liselotte and Caston continued out into the stable yard. “Let us get on with our business for the day.”
They moved out towards the street, noting the bustle, and noting the seamstress across the avenue, just beyond the big yew tree that grew in the middle of the street. As they headed out of the stable yard, Caston motioned to several of the twenty Netherghyll men they’d brought with them from Shadowmoor. Since Daniel was set to purchase many items, they’d not only brought the men but a Netherghyll wagon as well. Therefore, while half the men waited in the livery yard with the wagon, the other half followed Caston and Daniel and Liselotte across the street.
Daniel saw the mob behind him and rolled his eyes; the big escort had been Caston’s idea since the man never traveled without one, and especially when a lady was involved. But he didn’t say anything about it; if it made Caston happy, then it didn’t matter much to him. They traipsed along the street with their escort of armed men, looking like the king had just arrived for all of the men that were following them.
“I fear that Lady Glennie will be very unhappy that we have come to town without her,” Daniel said to Liselotte as he held out his elbow for her. “Mayhap you would like to visit her soon, my lady?”
Liselotte took his elbow gladly, holding it with both hands. “I would,” she agreed. “But I do not know when I can, to be truthful. So much at Shadowmoor requires my attention these days. I do not want to leave, even for a day or two.”
“Things are running very smoothly,” he assured her. “I am sure a day visit to Netherghyll will not matter overly. And it would make Glennie happy, don’t you think?”
Liselotte nodded. “I do,” she said. “Mayhap… mayhap someday when Shadowmoor is looking fine, I will have her to visit. I cannot do that now.”
Daniel looked at her, feeling proud with her on his arm. “Why not?”
She looked up at him, an expression of embarrassment on her face. “Must you truly ask that question, Daniel?” she scolded softly. “The fortress looks terrible and I have no place to entertain a fine lady. I would be ashamed.”
Daniel smiled faintly, patting her hand gently. “We will change that,” he said. “There is the room that your father used as his solar. We can put fine furnishings in there, much finer than anything at Netherghyll, and you can use that room to entertain your friend.”
Liselotte grinned at his grand plans. “Somehow it does not seem right to have a grand room in the keep when the rest of the fortress still looks as if it is only half-repaired,” she said. “But someday I would like to have a fine lady’s solar. I used to like to paint, long ago, but I have not done that in years. Mayhap someday I will resume that passion. It would be nice to have a room for it.”
They were nearing the seamstress and Daniel couldn’t help but eye the new dresses the old seamstress had hanging from nails outside of the shop, blowing in the breeze like banners. He could imagine Liselotte in one of them.
“Then you shall have it,” he said decisively. “Now, I have business to conduct with the seamstress. While I am speaking with her, I want you to look at the new garments she has hanging and see if there are any you like.”
Liselotte looked at him, shocked. “More dresses?”
“A fine lady can never have too many, so I am told.”
She snorted. “Who told you such things?”
He was evasive, grinning at her as he spoke. “Women,” he said. “Or did you think that you were the only woman I have ever known in my life?”
She shook her head firmly. “With your charm, I would wager you have known more than your fair share,” she said. “In fact, I would not be surprised if you have known even more than that.”
His eyebrows flew up in mock outrage. “Insolent wench,” he said. “I would demand you clarify that remark, but I must see the seamstress first. Stay with Caston and I will return.”
With that, he took the hand off of his elbow and kissed it before letting it go. As he disappeared inside the stall, Liselotte’s gaze lingered on him. Her expression was soft and dreamy, utterly smitten with the man.
&
nbsp; “Someday, I hope a woman looks at me the way you look at Daniel.”
Caston spoke softly next to her and Liselotte turned to him, grinning and embarrassed. “Is it that obvious?” she asked.
Caston laughed softly. “I think it is quite nice,” he said. “I have not had the luck with women that Daniel has, but I will say this – had I known you were at Shadowmoor, not very far from Netherghyll, I would have swooped in and claimed you before de Lohr got to you. What a fool I have been.”
Liselotte laughed, flattered by his words. “You are too kind, my lord,” she said. “But I would not have made a good match for you. The House of de Royans requires a much finer bride. Have you no prospects, then?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “What of the House of de Lohr?” he asked. “They require the finest brides in all the land. If you are good enough for Daniel, you are certainly good enough for me.”
Liselotte giggled. “Again, you are far too kind to say so,” she said. “But you have not answered me. Do you have any prospects?”
Caston shook his head. Then, he shrugged. “There is a lady in Keighley,” he admitted. “She is the daughter of one of the town elders, a merchant who trades and brokers metals. He is quite wealthy. They have property and standing.”
Liselotte smiled. “That sounds like a good match,” she said. “But what of the lady? What is she like?”
Caston was reluctant to speak of her, embarrassed even. In his mind, women talked of him – he did not talk of women. There was something prideful there.
“She has red hair,” he said, pretending to be disinterested. “Her name is Anne. She is pretty and she can speak three languages. She also has a pet sheep that follows her around. She received it as a gift when it was a lamb and now that it is grown, it still follows her everywhere.”
Liselotte like the tale of the lady with the sheep. “How charming,” she said. “Mayhap one day I shall be fortunate enough to meet her and her sheep.”
He simply shrugged, evasive. “Mayhap.”
Liselotte could see the subject was embarrassing for him, more than likely because it meant something to him. She liked Caston and hoped he would find happiness, even with a lady who was followed around by a sheep. But she didn’t push him on the subject; she simply smiled and turned away.
As she turned to look at the blue dress that was waving in the wind a few feet away, she caught sight of something out in the street that had her heart leaping into her throat. Her reaction was instantaneous, one of fear and revulsion. Shocked, she grabbed Caston by the arm and pulled him back, back behind the dresses that were fluttering and into the shadows near the stall’s entry. When he looked at her, concerned, she pointed to the avenue.
“God help us,” she hissed. “That is my brother. And Bramley! They are here!”
The light mood of the shopping day was dashed in an instant at her terrible announcement. Caston’s head snapped in the direction she was pointing and he could see several soldiers on horseback. There was also a man dressed in very fine robes among the soldiers, astride an expensive warmblood. Caston’s sharp senses focused on the man in the robe.
“Is Bramley the man in the silks?” he asked. “Mounted on the big red horse?”
Liselotte was clinging to him fearfully. “Aye,” she said. “That is Bramley. And my brother is the man without weapons, mounted on the gray horse beside him. See him? He is wearing ragged clothing.”
Caston had both Bramley and Brynner in his sight. “Go inside and tell Daniel,” he commanded softly. “He will want to know.”
Liselotte disappeared into the seamstress shop. Caston kept an eye on Bramley and his party, who seemed to be lingering near a baker’s stall. His men were eating, milling around, and he was surprised that, given the fact they were so close, Liselotte hadn’t recognized them until now. But he was glad she had noticed them before they noticed her; that gave Caston and Daniel the element of surprise.
The intensity of the situation deepened.
As Caston watched Bramley dismount his horse and lose himself in a crowd of his men, Gunnar unexpectedly emerged from the livery yard. The little boy stood on the edge of the yard, where it met with the avenue, and it was clear that he was looking for his sister and Daniel. He just stood there, looking up and down the avenue, before beginning his trek across the road.
Upon seeing the child, Caston bolted in his direction. Given what he’d been told about Brynner l’Audacieux, and he’d briefly lost sight of the man, he didn’t want Brynner seeing his younger brother in town. There was no telling what he would do.
Caston practically ran across the street, straight for Gunnar. Brynner and Bramley wouldn’t recognize him so Caston hoped they wouldn’t pay attention to a running man in mail as he headed straight for the child, swooping down upon him and lifting him into his arms. Then he made a break for the stable yard, never missing a step, praying that he could make it into the shielding confines of the stable before he was noticed.
But it wasn’t to be. It was his unhappy misfortune that he hadn’t been fast enough. Someone from Bramley’s party began shouting at him.
“You!” Brynner yelled, dismounting his horse and waving an arm at Caston. “Who are you? That is my brother! What are you doing with him?”
Caston heard the shouting but rather than continue on into the stable yard where ten of his men were waiting, where Brynner and Bramley would no-doubt follow and create a scene, he came to a halt. His men in the yard saw him, however, and he motioned the men to him with a jerk of his head. If he was going to confront Bramley and the brother he’d heard so much horror about, he wanted to have reinforcements and he wanted to do it in the open area of the avenue. He found himself praying that Daniel would at least keep Liselotte out of sight. This was about her, after all.
All of it.
Gunnar, seeing his brother, became terrified. He turned to Caston, grabbing on to the man.
“Let us go,” he said. “We must get away from him!”
Caston set the boy down, calmly, and handed him off to his nearest soldier. “Get the boy out of here,” he said. “Hide him. Go!”
The soldier fled, pulling Gunnar behind him. Meanwhile, Brynner was heading in his direction, wondering why an unfamiliar soldier was running off with his little brother. He pointed at Caston and then at the soldier running off with Gunnar.
“Who are you?” he demanded again. “Bring my brother back here!”
Caston shook his head. “Alas, I cannot,” he said. “You are Brynner l’Audacieux.”
Brynner came to a halt, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “How do you know that?” he asked. “Tell me who you are this instant.”
Caston regarded the man a moment. He looked like someone had just dredged him from a great swampy hole. He was worn, dirty, disheveled, and reeked of urine and alcohol. He was a horrific example of a man, worse than Caston had imagined he would look.
“You do not need to know who I am,” Caston said. “Suffice it to say that it looks as if everything I have been told about you is true.”
Brynner’s features twisted in outrage. “Who are you, you bastard?” he hissed. “What have you done with my little brother? I have men at my disposal to go and find him, so you had better give him to me unless you want a battle on your hands.”
“What battle would that be?”
Daniel strolled up behind Caston, calm and cool. His gaze was riveted to Brynner, who was, by now, attracting the attention of Bramley’s men, including Bramley himself. For the moment, however, Daniel was only fixed on Brynner.
Animosity filled the air.
“The last time I saw you, you had just murdered your father,” Daniel said because Brynner seemed somewhat speechless to see him. “I was hoping you had run off and died somewhere.”
Brynner looked at Daniel in shock. De Lohr was the last person he had expected to see on this day. “You!” he gasped. “You… you thieving canker! I want my fortress back!”
Daniel was amused b
y the man’s outrage. “We cannot always have what we want, dear boy,” he said condescendingly. “You had best forget about Shadowmoor. It is no longer your concern.”
“Why should he forget it?” Bramley came up behind Brynner. The man already had a sword in his hand, ready to launch an offensive at the sight of a man he very much wanted vengeance upon. “Shadowmoor is his fortress and you, de Lohr, are a thief. I have already sent word to Henry about what you have done. We shall see what he has to say about it.”
Daniel smiled thinly. “Lord Bramley,” he greeted steadily. “Or Roland Fitzroy, or whatever you are calling yourself these days. I see that the Slime of the Earth has allied himself with the King of the Drunkards. How fitting.”
Bramley’s face turned red. “I will cut your tongue out one of these days,” he growled. “Your insults will be at an end, de Lohr. I will take great delight in killing you myself!”
Daniel only grew more amused. “Delusional men are always so entertaining,” he said, glancing at Caston, who was smirking at the comment. “Lord Bramley, mayhap I should tell you that I have sent word to my uncle, Christopher de Lohr, who commands the entire Welsh Marches. I already told you who my uncle is, but I will repeat myself and refresh your memory. My uncle knows about you and what you have done to starve out Shadowmoor, and he also knows that your drunken ally, Sir Brynner, killed his own father. He is much closer to West Yorkshire than Henry is so I would expect we will see my uncle very shortly. Then, it will be I who will take great delight in tearing down your castle and cutting your tongue out. You and men like you are an affront to decent people and must be eradicated. Your reign of cruelty is at an end.”
Bramley stepped forward, in front of Brynner, even though la Londe and de Witt, who were standing with him, tried to stop him. Bramley wouldn’t listen to anyone. He pointed his sword at Daniel.
“I am rousing the countryside against you,” he declared. “You will not be laughing when I join forces with Netherghyll and even Skipton and run you out of Shadowmoor. If I were you, I would swiftly leave because if you remain, it will only mean your death. I am giving you fair warning.”
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 183