England was their heart.
“Very well,” Caius said quietly. “I will go to Winterhold and see for myself what is happening. I should also like to contact de Thorington for his side of things, don’t you think?”
William nodded. “Please do,” he said. “Give the man my compliments and tell him we are there to get to the bottom of the situation. If you can peacefully resolve the issue, then do so. You are an excellent negotiator, Cai, as well as an excellent tactician. It was Sean who suggested you, you know. He thinks highly of your skill, as do I.”
Caius glanced over his shoulder to see Sean standing back in the shadows where he usually was. The man knew all, and saw all, from his position in the darkness. Sean and Caius were close and dear friends, and had been for years.
There was a history between them.
Years ago, when the opportunity arose to place a Marshal mole next to the king those years ago, William had addressed the position to both Caius and Sean, but it was Sean who had volunteered.
Caius knew it had been to spare him additional distress and burdens in a life that had been full of them. Caius had done enough in his lifetime, as The Britannia Viper, to earn himself a prime place in hell. Knowing this, Sean had volunteered to accept the position as John’s bodyguard before Caius could.
Sean had saved his friend from becoming the Lord of the Shadows.
It was something Caius would never forget.
“As I think highly of his,” Caius said after a moment, returning his focus to William. “If I can resolve the situation between de Wrenville and de Thorington peacefully, I shall. If I cannot, then I will end it by force.”
William had reclaimed his cup of ruby-red wine. “You can only fight for de Wrenville, Cai,” he said quietly. “If de Thorington is in the right… you cannot take up arms for him. Do I make myself clear?”
Caius nodded. “You do,” he said. “But if it is clear the situation is of de Wrenville’s wrongdoing, do I have permission to refuse him the support of your army? You said it’s quite possible he has lied about the entire situation. What if he has? Do I use your men to attack an innocent neighbor?”
It was clear that William was torn by the question. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “If the situation permits, send me word and wait for my instructions. If it does not permit and action must be immediate… I fear for Alice should you refuse Covey, but I do not want you assaulting an innocent man.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“You may choose the knights under your command.”
Caius didn’t have to think too hard. “I will take Morgan with me,” he said. “He is a nephew to the Earl of Wolverhampton and he has also been my right hand for four years. He is invaluable to me. I will also take Gareth, as he is obedient to a fault and fierce in a fight. I also want to take Kevin and Peter.”
William nodded. “I can spare them,” he said. “You do not wish to take any senior knights?”
Caius looked over to Maxton, Bric, and Dashiell – senior, seasoned, and deadly. Bric served the House of de Winter of Narborough Castle in Norfolk, and commanded their armies, so it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect him to attend another man’s army. Nor would it be feasible to take Dashiell for the same reason – the man served the Duke of Savernake and was undoubtedly expected to return to his post soon.
But the truth was that even though they served other masters, they served William Marshal first.
They had all been in London at the command of The Marshal to intercept a certain messenger who was expected on one of the cogs from Calais to London, a man bearing information from the King of France, Philip, to an agent in London who was prepared to take it into Wales.
There had been rumors for years about the Welsh princes allying with the French king against John, so William had called forth some of his best men to intercept the messenger, who had ended up being a big man with a heavily-armed escort. Between Caius, Maxton, Sean, and Bric, they’d managed to trace the man and his escort, and take them down, but it had taken teamwork. Morgan, Gareth, Kevin, and Peter had also been involved. The French agents were sophisticated these days.
But the English were smarter.
Therefore, the knights who served in other households under the guise of being regular knights had to return to their posts. Peter and Kevin served de Lohr but spent most of their time with The Marshal. Maxton, however, was in command of his own home of Chalford Hill near Gloucester, so he had no liege to satisfy other than William.
Caius gestured to Maxton.
“If I can take Loxbeare, it would comfort me greatly,” he said. “I realize he is a lord in command of his own great army, but Maxton and I served together for years on the sands of The Levant. He is my brother-in-arms, if not in blood. We work well together.”
William looked at Maxton, lingering back in the shadows with Sean.
“Well?” he said. “What say you? Is a journey to Winterhold Castle in your future?”
Maxton came forward, eyeing Caius. One would have thought he was displeased, as that was his usual countenance, if not for the twitch on the corner of his mouth.
“The Executioner Knight and The Britannia Viper in action once again?” he said. “How can I resist?”
As Caius grinned, William shook his head. “God help us,” he muttered. Then, he spoke louder. “What of your wife? Will Andressa mind?”
Maxton was still looking at Caius. “Probably,” he said. “But I cannot resist serving with Cai again. Besides… he will need me.”
Caius’ eyes narrowed. “I do not need you. But I do want you.”
Maxton, whose smiles were as rare as snow in the month of June, broke out in a grin. “As well you should,” he said. “I will go with you to Winterhold to assess the situation, but I will have to return home at some point soon. I have been away from my wife and daughters overlong. I am eager to return home.”
Caius understood, sort of. He still wasn’t over the fact that his old friend, whom he had womanized with for years, had settled down with a wife he truly adored. Caius never understood men who succumbed to something as common as love.
To him, it was a weakness.
“Then hopefully, this will not take too long,” he said, his attention returning to The Marshal. “I have my command assembly, my lord. How soon do we depart?”
William finished off his wine, tossing his head back as he drained the cup. “Tomorrow,” he said. “You will go to Warstone Castle outside of Wolverhampton and wait for my army to arrive. Then, you shall proceed to Winterhold, which is a day’s ride north of Wolverhampton. You may also press de Wolfe on what he knows about the situation between de Wrenville and de Thorington. A feud like that is not something that is usually secret, and it is in his part of England, so he may know something. Beyond that… handle things at your discretion. You have been instructed.”
Caius nodded, looking to Maxton as William rose to pour himself more wine and summoned Sean, Bric, and Dashiell for a quiet conversation. As Peter and Kevin headed out to inform Morgan and Gareth of their coming mission, Caius spoke to Maxton.
“It will be like old times,” Caius said, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Except for the women. I do not think your wife would like it if I demanded you go wenching with me.”
Maxton chuckled. “Nay, she would not, and she is not afraid to use a knife, so tread carefully with her.”
“I would only show her the greatest respect, Maxton,” Caius assured him. “But you, however…”
He snorted, which set off Maxton. “It has been a very long time, my friend,” Maxton said quietly. “How many years since we last had an adventure together?”
Caius shrugged. “I cannot even recall. It has been a long time.”
“I miss Kress and Achilles. I miss those days.”
He spoke of the other original Executioner Knights, men who had their own responsibilities and families these days. Caius grinned as he thought on those two.
“As do I,” he said
softly.
“And Sherry,” Maxton said. “I miss him, too.”
Caius shrugged. “Sherry only worked as a team when he felt like it,” he said. “I love the man, but he could be a loner at times. That is why I am perpetually amazed that he has settled in as Christopher de Lohr’s commander. He’s usually quite a wanderer.”
But Maxton shook his head. “Not anymore,” he said. “Marrying a woman you are mad for can do such things to a man. Make him feel settled and whole. Mayhap you’ll discover that for yourself someday.”
Caius snorted rudely. “Never,” he said. “I will leave marriage to those of you who can stomach it. As for me, I…”
He was cut off by William, who waved them over as Bric and Dashiell departed. Sean was still standing with The Marshal, and William motioned to Caius and Maxton.
“Cai,” William said. “What’s this I hear? You met Marius de Wrenville tonight?”
Caius looked at Maxton, who smirked and averted his gaze. Now would be his comeuppance as he confessed his presence at The Pox.
Or not.
He still hadn’t decided.
He cleared his throat.
“I did,” he said, eyeing Sean even as he spoke to William. “But he was just another man in a tavern. I did not know who he was, only his name. Sean says he is a favorite of John at the moment.”
William nodded, some of his frustration returning. “He has been spending an inordinate amount of time in London with John,” he said. “Sean has been watching him and reporting back to me. That is why I believe Marius orchestrated Alice’s marriage to his father – Marius is ambitious and clever, but those are not compliments. He is also ruthless. What happened when you met him? Did you speak with him?”
Caius looked at Sean, who was stone-faced. Clearly, the man didn’t tell William about the circumstances of Caius’ acquaintance with Marius. He was leaving that up to Caius.
Caius had no choice but to tell him the truth.
“I beat him in a drinking game,” he finally said, watching the exasperation on William’s face take flight. “Half the tavern was betting on who would be the last man standing after several bottles of strong Portuguese wine. I won.”
“Let me guess. At The Pox?”
“Aye.”
“At least you are truthful.”
“I am nothing else, my lord.”
William waved a hand at him as if to dismiss the potential for an insult in that line of conversation. “I know you are,” he said. “That is not what I meant. But The Pox? You know how I feel about that place, Cai.”
“I know, my lord. But it has excellent food and drink.”
“It is a den of demons!”
“Tonight, I was one of them.”
William was quickly becoming frustrated and struggling not to. “So you drank Marius under the table,” he said. “How do you think the man is going to feel about you showing up at the head of my army to aid his father against de Thorington? This is not an ideal situation, Cai.”
“I realize that, my lord. But it cannot be undone.”
William paused a moment, thinking on that. Then, he simply shook his head. “Nay, it cannot,” he said. “From what Sean tells me, however, Marius is petty and vindictive. Watch how he behaves with you. Watch that he does not try to undermine you.”
Sean interjected. “My sources tell me that he has been summoned home by his father, though he has seemed in no real hurry to go home,” he said. “The truth is that although he spends a great deal of time in John’s court, his favorite status is debatable. Some days he is, and others he is not. But I have seen him gossip with the king better than a fishwife. In any case, you can reach Winterhold before he ever arrives.”
William nodded. “That is good,” he said. “It means that his father will have no prejudice against you, at least until his son gets there. All he will know is that you are my commander. Sean, do you think you can keep Marius with John and away from Winterhold while Cai straightens this situation out?”
“I doubt it, my lord. Cai is simply going to have to move faster than Marius does in reaching Winterhold.”
William seemed satisfied after that, hopeful that there would be no conflict, or tension, between Caius and Marius in a situation that was already distressing. Losing a drinking game wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it might be to an arrogant young noble. Not that William really worried about it, but it was one less issue to deal with in a circumstance that was full of uncertainties.
But he found himself seriously wishing bland, boring Alice had remained a spinster. His niece was creating quite a situation for him, the depths of which remained to be seen.
He could only hope it wasn’t as bad as it could potentially be.
CHAPTER TWO
Five weeks later
Winterhold Castle
Shrewsbury
She was on her knees in a corner of the hall.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. At least she was upright, even if her face was pressed into a corner.
Her father was on his face on the floor.
Panic was beginning to set in.
How did I even get here?
But the sad fact was that she knew. It seemed like this was all she’d ever known. Incessant attacks, badgering, persecution had been a steady part of her life for the past three years and it was at the point where she almost couldn’t remember the peaceful days before.
The before times.
Neighbors they rarely ever heard from or saw, a family that her family had coexisted peacefully with for almost seventy years, had suddenly decided that the House of de Thorington was the enemy. There wasn’t even a build-up of hostilities – one moment, there was peace, and in the next, the House of de Wrenville was sending an army to attack the walls of her home and tearing down forests to bring the great war machines through that would launch flaming projectiles at the keep.
Hawkstone Castle hadn’t been prepared.
Ever since Emelisse de Thorington’s ancestor had been granted the lands by Henry I and had built his fortress, Hawkstone had been relatively peaceful. It was a strong fortress and built appropriately for the uncertain and sometimes dangerous times, but the years had seen the moat become filled with reeds and water lilies and fowl, and the drawbridge hadn’t been raised in years. The chains had rusted into position.
Not to say they hadn’t seen some action, but it had been rare. There were times when the Welsh had raided the nearby villages, but they stayed away from Hawkstone, mostly because of the persistent rumor of ledrith, or magic, in the large hill and limestone caves on the property.
In truth, it was a wild and enchanted place.
Emelisse had grown up in that fortress, and amidst that hill, vast masses of trees and waterfalls, caves, and paths that were, indeed, magical to a certain extent, but not in the way the Welsh saw it. There were no wood sprites or trolls or fae amidst the rocks and trees. But there were plenty of birds. Mynydd Adar, the Welsh called it.
Hawk Mountain.
It was where the fortress got its name, a bucolic place that hadn’t known strife or terror or hunger. It had been perfect.
Until three years ago.
God, how things had changed. As Emelisse faced the corner of the great hall of those who sacked her castle, it was difficult not to weep for the peace of Hawkstone and what once was. She knew her brother, Caspian, was holed up in Hawkstone, in the keep, fighting off the de Wrenville attack when they’d breached the gatehouse and had the run of the inner bailey and the hall.
That’s where Emelisse had been, in the hall tending the wounded, when the de Wrenville army had overrun it. Her father had been at the gatehouse, but Caspian had retreated to the keep with the remaining fragments of the army, taking a last stand, and Emelisse was proud of him for it.
Damn the bloody de Wrenvilles!
“Lady Emelisse?”
Someone was addressing her from behind as she faced the wall. She was bound, but she wasn’t gagged, w
hich was surprising considering she bit the first man that had grabbed her. She’d kicked the second man coming to his aid. They’d managed to tie her up and transport her back the sixteen miles to Winterhold, but she hadn’t gone without a fight.
Still, she was fighting.
“Lady Emelisse, I will remove your bindings if you promise to behave like a lady.”
Emelisse didn’t know who was speaking to her and she surely didn’t care. All she knew was that the voice enraged her to the point where she wanted to bite and kick again.
“I did behave like a lady,” she said. “You were attempting to take me prisoner. I have a right to resist, do I not?”
“You do, but I should like to have a civil conversation with you.”
“I do not wish to speak with you, whoever you are. Speak to my father.”
There was a pause. “He is in no condition to hold a conversation.”
That caused Emelisse to turn her head around as far as she could, trying to look to the stone floor of the great hall of Winterhold where she’d last seen her father.
“Why?” she demanded, fear in her voice now. “Where is he? What have you done to him?”
She twisted around and managed to fall on her side. The way they had her bound did not allow for much movement. She landed with a grunt as someone hauled her back up to her knees, pushing her back against the wall so she wouldn’t fall again. But as she banged against the stone wall of the musty, smoky hall, she could see her father lying in the same place he’d been when they’d first entered the hall.
He hadn’t moved.
The anger in her turned to grave concern.
“Please,” she said, looking up at the men around her. “Please let me go to him. He must be injured.”
There was a well-dressed, older man to her left and a knight in heavily used battle armor to her right. Pale and sharp-featured but not unhandsome, he had pale red hair and a receding hairline. He was also sweaty and grimy, and had a cut above his right eyebrow. It was clear he’d been in the heat of battle and he was looking at her with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. When she made her plea, his only response was to look to the well-dressed man who clearly hadn’t seen action in the siege.
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