“She did.”
Glennie crowed with delight. “I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to hear this,” she said. Then, she grasped her cup of wine and held it aloft. “I must toast their marriage. A toast to my dear friend Adalind and her handsome Maddoc. I wish them great joy and happiness, always.”
Daniel, Easton, and Liselotte raised their cups in salute, drinking to the toast. Daniel, in fact, drained his cup and a nearby servant quickly filled it. He continued shoving beef into his mouth.
“When I see her next, I will tell her of your good wishes,” he said. “She will be very happy to know that I finally met her Glennie. She is quite fond of you, you know.”
Glennie was watching Daniel eat, her expression soft. “And I am very fond of her,” she said. “I hope to be able to….”
Glennie was cut off when the great entry doors to the hall were pushed open and a figured appeared from the wet bailey outside. Moving in shadows it came, a figure of a man that blended with the dark of the hall. As it came closer into the light, dripping armor was illuminated, glistening in the firelight.
The man was moderately tall with a head of wet hair which, as he came closer into the light of the hall, turned out to be blond. He was broad shouldered, and quite obviously a knight from the way he was dressed and the weaponry he wore, but the moment his features came into focus, Daniel felt as if he had been hit in the belly. He could hardly believe the vision that faced him.
Ghosts do exist, he thought. Dear God… they truly do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brighton de Royans had returned from the dead.
It was a phantom, come to haunt him. Daniel was convinced. But he blinked his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself before realizing that the man facing him in the wet armor wasn’t exactly Brighton. Thank God, it wasn’t. But it was a man who looked very much like him and Daniel was sure that this was the brother Glennie had spoken of, a man by the name of Caston. God’s Bones, Daniel thought, shaken by the vision. Was it really possible for brothers to look so much alike?
Servants closed the heavy door behind the knight as he approached the table. He glanced at his father and his sister, but looked curiously at Daniel. When Liselotte came into full view, he looked even more curiously at her. Much as his father’s expression had shown, there was interest there. A twinkle came to his eye.
“We have guests?” the man asked in a voice very similar to what Brighton’s voice had also sounded like. “I had no idea. Forgive me for being late to sup.”
Easton stood up, indicating Daniel first. “You have been gone all day and could not have known of our guests,” he said. “I will introduce you to Sir Daniel de Lohr, son of David, Earl of Canterbury. He is from the famous House of de Lohr, Caston, so behave yourself. His charming companion is Lady Liselotte l’Audacieux, daughter of the Lord of Shadowmoor. My lord, my lady… meet my son, Sir Caston de Royans.”
Daniel stood up politely to greet the man, still somewhat rattled by the appearance of a dead man. “My lord,” he greeted evenly. “Your sister and father have been kind enough to have us for supper this evening.”
Caston grinned, throwing Daniel off his guard even more because he even smiled like Brighton. It was all Daniel could do to try and conceal that shock as he resumed his seat. Caston sat at the end of the table, accepting the cup of wine that a servant handed to him.
“Welcome to Netherghyll,” he said to Daniel although he kept eyeing Liselotte. “Not as grand as the de Lohr properties, I am sure, but we like it here. What brings you up into Yorkshire? You are far from Canterbury.”
Daniel nodded, taking another big gulp of wine because he found he needed it; was this God’s cruel joke that he should spend the evening with a man who looked a good deal like his dead enemy? The evening was beginning to get interesting.
“I am, indeed,” he said to Caston. “I was heading north to visit friends and my path took me by way of the road to Carlisle.”
“It is fortuitous, Caston,” Easton said seriously. “He has come to save Shadowmoor and Netherghyll. Have you heard of Lord Bramley, the man who assumed possession of Bramley Castle a few years ago? It seems that the man has launched terrible aggressions against Shadowmoor in an attempt to force the Lord of Shadowmoor from his home. Bramley claims to be a nephew to the king but it seems that he lies about that. Sir Daniel fears that if Bramley is able to confiscate Shadowmoor, then he might want Netherghyll next.”
Caston listened to his father, brow furrowed. He didn’t seem too concerned about the situation. “I have heard of Bramley but I’ve not met the man,” he said, looking to Daniel. “What makes you think he will try to acquire Netherghyll?”
Daniel sounded much less sensational than Easton had. He was factual. “Because the man has been trying to obtain Shadowmoor for four years in a constant campaign of harassment,” he said. “He watches the roads, steals the tariffs due to Shadowmoor, burns out their villiens, and has starved out the castle. They cannot make a move without Bramley’s men descending on them.”
Caston shrugged. “But that does not guarantee he is after Netherghyll.”
Daniel nodded. “That is true,” he said, appreciating that Caston didn’t seem quick to frighten. “But think on it this way; Bramley’s lands adjoin Shadowmoor from the south. Netherghyll adjoins Shadowmoor’s lands from the north. If Bramley is an ambitious man, and all indications are that he is, would it not be logical for him to join his lands to Shadowmoor’s, and then move to take Netherghyll’s next? That would make him an enormous land holder. He would have everything from Bradford all the way up to Skipton.”
Caston could see the man’s point now and a bit of concern entered his manner. “That would make sense,” he said, his gaze lingering on Liselotte, who had thus far remained completely silent throughout the conversation. “My lady, is it as bad as all that? Has this Lord Bramley truly harassed Shadowmoor so terribly? I must apologize that this is the first time I have heard about any harassment of our neighbors.”
Now that the focus of the conversation was on Liselotte, she looked at bit startled by it. From the moment Easton had begun spooning dishes onto her trencher, she had shoved the food into her mouth as discreetly as possibly, but she’d been shoving as much in as she could without choking on it. She was starving. She hadn’t eaten beef in well over two years and here, a massive knuckle was staring her in the face. That, plus the creamy-white bread and butter, the pickled onions, and a sauced fish dish, had all made it onto her plate in big quantities and into her mouth. She was gorging herself to the point of becoming ill and now that everyone was looking at her, she began to feel nauseous and embarrassed. But she looked Caston in the eye as she answered his question.
“My father and I first met Lord Bramley in the village of Menston,” she said. “Do you know where that is, my lord?”
Caston nodded; he rather liked the way she spoke, with a very faint lisp he thought charming. “I do,” he said. “It is southeast of us, on the other side of Rombald’s Moor.”
Liselotte nodded. “That is correct, sir,” she said. “It is a small town and one that is part of my father’s estate. We were in town collecting tariffs and Bramley saw me. He immediately pursued me, and I do mean a very heavy pursuit. He would not leave me alone; he never left my side and had his men bring me all manner of gifts that, we found out later, he had stolen from the merchants in town. When one man protested, Bramley’s men beat him quite badly. That was only the beginning. When I refused his suit, he took to terrorizing the villages on my father’s estate, stealing from peasants, killing them if they resisted. My father had men to collect taxes and dispense justice in the towns, but Bramley’s men harassed and beat them so badly that they were afraid to do their job. He killed most of our cow and sheep herds just because he could. Even now, his men watch the roads from Shadowmoor, looking for more people to harass or beat. Therefore, in answer to your question, it is as bad as all that and more, my lord. It has been hell.”
> By the time she finished, the entire table was somber and Caston in particular. His expression was one of concern and outrage. “Then I am sorry you have had to deal with that,” he said. “But why did you not send for help from Netherghyll? Undoubtedly, we would have helped.”
Easton interrupted. “We have already been through that,” he said, waving his son off. “Suffice it to say that we are keeping our eye on Shadowmoor but, at the suggestion of Sir Daniel, we will not send help. Sir Daniel is afraid that will turn Bramley’s venom on us. Therefore, Sir Daniel is sending a missive to his uncle, Christopher de Lohr, at dawn. He will ask for reinforcements against Bramley in the hopes of defeating the man once and for all so he will leave Shadowmoor alone.”
Caston listened carefully to his father before looking to Daniel. “And you believe your uncle will help?”
Daniel nodded confidently. “When I explain the situation, I have no doubt he will,” he replied. “The one thing I am not certain of is how many men Bramley has sworn to him. Lady Liselotte has only seen patrols of men. My lady, can you elaborate?”
Liselotte nodded. “That is normally what Lord Bramley sends out,” she said. “Groups of men. I have never seen more than six or seven together. He has never sent an army against Shadowmoor, not ever.”
Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “I am wondering if he even has one now,” he said. “It would be an impressive feat to starve out an entire fortress with only six or seven men at any given time.”
Liselotte shook her head, thinking there was an insult against her father in that statement. “Not such a feat when you consider he is an aggressor and we have been living in peace, with no standing army, for decades,” she said, trying not to sound defensive. “The people who live in and around Shadowmoor are farmers or craftsmen, not soldiers. And I believe Lord Bramley has more men than just a few because while six or seven are harassing the fortress, we have reports that more of his men are in the towns, frightening the villagers. Therefore, he has more men – we just do not know how many, exactly.”
Daniel thought she sounded much as if she were defending Shadowmoor, and even her father, against some kind of implied cowardice when it came to Bramley. He hastened to ease her.
“I understand,” he said. “I did not mean to insinuate your people were afraid to do anything against just a few men. I simply meant that Bramley is quite bold to do what it does with only a few men at a time. But given what you’ve explained, it would make sense that he has more men at his disposal.”
“From what I know of Bramley Castle, it is not very large,” Caston said, interrupting the exchange. “I cannot say that in my travels, I have passed by it or have even thought of it in many a year, but the last I recall, it was a small enclosure with a small keep. Hardly more than that.”
Daniel listened closely. “Then it would be safe to say that if Bramley has an army, it is not a very big one?”
Caston shook his head. “He would have nowhere to house it if he did.”
“One hundred men at most?”
“At the very most.”
Daniel nodded, thoughtfully. “So Bramley has less than one hundred men to harass Shadowmoor,” he said. “It is enough to cause havoc because Shadowmoor has no army to combat it. Netherghyll, on the other hand, has a very large army, so it makes sense that Bramley would stay clear of them. However, if he is able to obtain Shadowmoor, he would be able to house a much larger army which would be a threat to Netherghyll. If I were an ambitious man, that would be my plan.”
Caston lifted his eyebrows in agreement. “There is no disputing your logic,” he said. “Again, I am embarrassed to say that I have not heard about Bramley’s harassment, or anything else about the man for that matter. But now that we know, we will keep an eye on the situation.”
“You are not to blame, Caston,” Easton said, well into his third cup of wine. He looked at Daniel as he spoke. “Caston conducts business for me outside of the castle. I cannot ride long distances these days so Caston is my emissary, usually to allies to the north. I will admit we do not travel much south of Keighley, which is the town just south of us. We do most of our business in Skipton, and for our larger needs, we will go to Blackburn or Preston to the west. I do not like Leeds, nor have I ever, so we do not travel south very often.”
“Leeds is a dirty city,” Caston agreed, taking a healthy drink from his cup. “So is Bradford and Wakefield, all full of dirty people. In fact, only my brother, Brighton, seems to take a liking to the south of England. He serves Norfolk and is stationed at Arundel Castle, which is not far from Canterbury Castle, I believe.”
Daniel had mercifully forgotten about Brighton for a few brief minutes so to hear Caston speak of the man was like a sudden jolt, reminding him, yet again, of the fact that he’d help to kill Easton’s son and Caston’s brother. But he wasn’t about to give away his thoughts, not now that the evening was pleasant and he had what he wanted. Well, at least they had promised him what he had wanted, a messenger come the morning, so he kept his thoughts, and feelings, well-concealed. He didn’t want to do, or say, anything to jeopardize the alliance he was trying to build.
“The south of England is vast,” he said neutrally. “I believe Arundel is about three days from Canterbury. My father, as far as I know, does not have any direct contact with Norfolk.”
Caston grinned. “You would know my brother if you met him,” he said. “He looks just like me.”
“Is that so?”
“He was born fifteen minutes before I was.”
A great deal was made clear to Daniel in that statement. Truth be told, he was very curious about the resemblance and was relieved to know he wasn’t going mad. Perhaps the dead did come back to life at times, but in this situation, it was thankfully not the case. He breathed somewhat easier.
“Ah,” he said, relief in his tone. “He is your twin.”
Caston nodded, holding up his cup so a servant could fill it. “He is,” he replied. “We fostered together and have done nearly everything together over the years, but he found favor with Norfolk some years back and has served him ever since. I think he likes living away from Netherghyll and yearns for the excitement that serving a warlord brings. The last we saw of him was two years ago.”
“Two years ago come Christmas,” Easton confirmed softly.
Daniel looked at the older de Royans and he could see a longing in his expression for his missing son. It was like a dagger to Daniel’s heart, suddenly feeling so terribly bad for the man. He began to feel very torn about the situation now, wondering if he should do the honorable thing and tell them what he knew. It was only fair. But then he realized that he had imbibed three big cups of wine and knew it was the alcohol that was making him feel so soft and foolish. Telling Easton what he knew would not be a good thing, for any of them. Let them go on the assumption that Brighton was still alive and well. It would be more comforting than the alternative. Daniel finally pushed his cup away, unwilling to drink anymore, fearful of what he would say if he did.
“I have not been home for Christmas in four years,” he told Easton in an attempt to comfort the man about a son he would never see again. “In fact, since I received my spurs, I have traveled this country, into Scotland, and over to France and the Danish countries. I like to travel so it is not unusual for me to miss many holidays with my family. There have been times when I have gone years without seeing them.”
Caston regarded him over the rim of his cup. “You do not serve your father?”
Daniel nodded. “Technically, I do,” he said. “But he does not force me to remain at Canterbury. ’Tis a good thing, too. I drive the man mad at times. Whenever he looks at me, the veins in his head start to throb.”
He was grinning as he said it, causing Liselotte, who had been listening attentively, to giggle. Daniel winked at her.
“You think I am jesting?” he asked her. “It is quite true. When I was a lad, since I was the only son, the youngest child, and quite spoilt, I could do any
thing I wanted in my father’s home and get away with it. My Aunt Elyse, who never married, is a mastery of trickery. She and I used to play all manner of jokes on my father, which would enrage him terribly. One time, he was sleeping before the fire and my aunt and I very carefully lifted soot from the hearth and sprinkled it on the palm of his right hand. Then we ticked his face and when he put his hand up to slap what he thought was an insect, he got black soot all over his face. He chased us through the house and but I was the one to get caught. He hung me upside-down by my ankles and used a switch on my buttocks. It did not really hurt but the message was obvious. It was my mother who had to save me and cut me down.”
By this time, the table was laughing at him. “You were a naughty lad, my lord,” Liselotte said. “Dastardly!”
Easton held up a finger as if to submit his point. “Not true,” he said. “’Tis a very clever lad. And lively. I am sure Sir David was very proud of his son, even if he was the butt of the child’s joke.”
Liselotte grinned and shook her head reproachfully, to which Daniel merely smiled. “It is still that way today, my lady,” he said. “My father has come to expect all manner of jokes from me, but to tell you the truth, I am too old for such things. I suppose I must grow up sometime.”
Liselotte held his gaze, a smile still on her lips, and Daniel couldn’t take his eyes from her. There was something suggesting in that statement, perhaps a hint to a better future for them both. Even across the table from each other, it was the first time that either one of them had allowed any warmth to brew between them. There was some kind of magic in the air, pulling at them, creating a lure that hadn’t been there before. But the truth was that some kind of attraction, in some form, had been there since the beginning. Now, with the food and wine, and with coming to know one another, that attraction was becoming too difficult to deny.
Liselotte could feel it. God’s Bones, she could feel it and she’d never known anything like it. Warm and fluid, a viscous sensation like the flow of honey, filled every part of her body as she gazed at the man. It made her tremble and feel flushed at the same time. She had admired Daniel secretly since their introduction and now, as the moments ticked away, she was becoming less and less apt to hide her esteem for him. She knew there could never be anything between them but it didn’t seem to matter any longer. How could she help but admire him? He was handsome and chivalrous and a joy to be around. He was all things heavenly that she never knew to exist.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 173