“And you no longer wish to be a puppet, as you called it?” Sean asked quietly. “Kevin, we are all puppets. Even The Marshal is a puppet.”
“That is not true.”
“It is. There is no man in England who is not controlled by someone else.”
Frustrated, Kevin stood up, kicking the stool out of the way. He was becoming agitated. “Look what happened to you,” he said, pointing to his brother. “Look at you; the strongest man I know has nearly been laid to waste – and for what? A king who is still alive and still as wicked as ever. He’s still hated, and he is still dividing this country. Was your sacrifice worth it?”
Sean’s steady gaze never left him. “I think so.”
“How can you say that? You nearly died.”
“That was always the risk, Kevin. But while I was the Lord of the Shadows, I did a great deal of good for The Marshal’s cause.”
That wasn’t the answer that Kevin wanted to hear, nor did he believe it. Struggling to calm himself, he sat on the end of his brother’s bed.
“I understand you sacrificed yourself for the greater good,” he said. “But, as I have told you before, I just wish it had been someone else.”
“But it wasn’t someone else. It was me.”
Kevin held up a hand. “Please let me finish,” he said. “I have always been one of many knights in The Marshal’s arsenal. There is nothing spectacular about me, not like you and Caius and Maxton and Kress and the rest of them. You are all older than I am and have more experience than I do. You have all had your commands and your moment to shine, but I never really have. You asked where I have been? I have been on a long ride to the Marches to see to Trelystan and the other de Lara castles. They sit alone and waiting for you to return to them.”
Sean nodded faintly, some of the warmth gone out of his expression as he thought on the de Lara hereditary properties.
“I know,” he said. “They have sat alone for some time.”
“Alone, but not inactive,” Kevin said. “They are well-manned with de Lara men who are loyal to you. They simply wait for your return or my return. In truth, I wasn’t sure you were going to survive so I told them that either you or I would return at some point soon.”
“And Stonegrave Castle? Were you able to go there?”
He was speaking of another, older de Lara property that a relative had inherited long ago, a property that had once belonged to the ancient kings of Deira. It came with a title, Viscount Darlington, that belonged to Sean as well, but neither the title nor the castle was spoken of much since the more widely known title associated with the House of de Lara was Lord of the Trilaterals, a major Marcher lordship. But Kevin shook his head to the question.
“It has been a long time since I have been to Stonegrave,” he said. “It still has a small contingent of men because I have seen the annual payments to them, but I have not been that far to the north in some time. I think I saw Stonegrave about the last time I saw our sister.”
Sean nodded faintly, shifting in bed yet again because it was difficult to find a comfortable position. “Me, also,” he said. “I think I was with you on that trip. I’ve not thought of dear Bridget in some time. She was eleven years of age when I was born and fostering in the north. She never really knew you or me, and we never really knew her. Sometimes I forget I even have a sister, though I should not. I would like to see her again, someday.”
Kevin shrugged. “She married one of the Umfravilles and has lived her own life, far away from us,” he said. “But you and I… our lives are closely intertwined and ever will be.”
Sean looked at him, then. “That is true,” he said. “And that brings me to the reason I wanted to see you.”
“I am listening.”
Sean paused a moment as he considered what he wanted to say. “Our lives are intertwined, as you have said,” he replied. “You know about my wife, Sheridan. I am looking forward to the day when I introduce you. She is a remarkable woman, Kevin.”
Kevin nodded. “I am sure she is,” he said. Then, he hesitated. “And you still do not want me to send her word about you?”
“Nay,” Sean said, his manner hardening. “I told you that I do not want to send her word until I know I am going to survive these injuries.”
“But…”
Sean cut him off. “Nay, Kevin,” he said firmly. “Let the woman remember me as I was, not as I am – wounded, ill, confined to a bed. I do not want her to see me like this. You could bring her here tomorrow and I could die next week of this poison in me that does not seem to want to abate. I could not put her through that turmoil.”
Kevin understood, sort of. “But she is your wife,” he said, trying to be tactful on a very touchy subject. “She has a right to know you are alive.”
“Not until I can walk to her and tell her myself.”
Kevin didn’t push him. Sean wanted this wife to see him strong and healthy, not weak and dying. Perhaps it was male vanity or perhaps he was really trying to spare her feelings; perhaps it was a combination of both. In any case, Kevin didn’t pursue it. He veered the subject back to the very reason he had been summoned.
“Then let us not speak of her,” he said. “What did you wish to tell me?”
Sean struggled to pull his thoughts away from his beloved wife and back to the subject at hand. “Sheridan has something to do with what I wish to speak with you about,” he said. “My wife is an heiress, Kevin. When I married her, I inherited the Earldom of Bath and Glastonbury.”
Kevin nodded. “I know,” he said. “Your physic told me. I am proud of you, Sean. It is well-deserved.”
Sean studied his brother for a moment before extending a hand to him. It was an affectionate gesture, one not missed by Kevin, who took it strongly and held on with two hands. It was good to feel his brother alive and warm and, for a moment, he nearly lost his composure. It could have so easily gone the other direction. It still might. But for now, Sean was alive and lucid, and this time was precious.
Kevin felt that with all his heart.
“I have been blessed,” Sean said quietly. “I have a beautiful wife and through her, lands and titles. But through Father, I have the Darlington lordship and Trilaterals lordship. I have more than a man has a right to and that is why I summoned you.”
“How can I be of assistance?”
“I want to give you the Trilaterals.”
Kevin’s eyes widened in shock. “You what?”
Sean grinned at the astonishment in his brother’s features. “Before this day is out, I will summon a cleric from Westminster and have the documents drawn up,” he said. “I am gifting you with the Lord of the Trilaterals title that includes the three castles – Trelystan, Hyssington, and Caradoc. They belong to you now, Kevin. I know you will do them proud.”
Kevin could hardly believe it. That was not what he had expected when he had entered the chamber. He didn’t know what he’d expected but accepting his brother’s hereditary title hadn’t been a glimmer in his mind.
After a moment, he shook his head.
“Sean,” he said, still fighting the reality of his brother’s gesture. “They belong to you. What of your sons? What will you leave them?”
“Bath and Glastonbury,” Sean said, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “And I still have Stonegrave and Darlington. Believe me, I have enough to never want for anything ever again. Please let me do this for you, Kevin. Please let me gift you with the Trilaterals.”
It was the most generous thing Kevin had ever heard of. Given the fact that he and his brother had shared a contentious relationship over the past several years, it was even more astonishing. Sean and Kevin had gone years not speaking to one another, mostly because of Kevin. But now, none of that seemed to matter in Sean’s eyes.
It was almost more than Kevin could bear.
“Why?” he finally managed to ask, feeling a lump in his throat. “Why would you be so generous to me? All I’ve done over the past several years is tell you how ashamed
I was of you and how much I hated what you had done to yourself. I do not understand why you should be so generous. I do not deserve it.”
Sean squeezed his hands. “Of course you do,” he said. “As for what happened… I know you were angry because you loved me, not because you hated me. You are a man of great passion and conviction, Kevin. There was never any doubt in my mind that we would someday reconcile, and we have.”
Kevin stared at him, his eyes welling. He was so overwhelmed that he was having difficulty with his composure. “And I am grateful for it,” he said, quickly blinking away the tears. “You tolerated much of my ignorance and prejudice with grace, Sean. When you should have slapped me, you tried to reason with me. In hindsight, I understand your motives and your reasons, but at the time… at the time, I was blinded by my own sense of self-righteousness.”
Sean squeezed his hands one last time before releasing them. “But it wasn’t something that time could not heal,” he said. “We are healed, Kevin. And I am giving you the Trilaterals because I am going to be at Lansdown Castle, the seat of my earldom. A de Lara must always be in possession of the Trilaterals, and that will be you and your heirs. Make your mark, little brother. I know you can.”
Kevin smiled weakly, the realization of his brother’s great gift beginning to settle on him. “I can only hope to live up to what you would have done,” he said. “I’ve never actually had a command before.”
“You do now.”
Kevin laughed nervously, standing up from the bed. “Thanks to you,” he said, his mind going to the castles he so recently visited. “God’s Bones… I never thought this would happen. To thank you seems wholly inadequate, but you have my deepest thanks. Are you certain you want to do this?”
“More than certain.”
Kevin ran his fingers through his hair as he realized that he was now a warlord, with properties and an army befitting that status. It was too good to believe.
“When you have the documents drawn up, you should send word to Bannon de Venter,” he said. “He is in command of Trelystan at the moment and should hear this from you, not from me. He must have your confirmation so that he knows it is to be my command.”
Sean nodded, but it was clear that he was growing weary as the conversation wore him down. “I shall, have no fear.”
The more Kevin thought on his new status, the more excited he became. “I shall return to the Trilaterals and make sure the vassals know that a de Lara has returned to lead them,” he said. Then, he looked at his brother as if a thought had just occurred to him. “I may even expand the empire. In fact, when I was there, I heard the soldiers speaking of old Lord Breidden. You know the man? Father knew him, I think. He is as old as Methuselah.”
“I remember him,” Sean said. “What about him?”
“He’s dying,” Kevin said. “According to our soldiers, anyway. But as I recall, he has no heirs. I remember Father saying that he was a lonely old man.”
“A lonely old man with a big castle not too far from Trelystan.”
Kevin tapped his head in a knowing gesture. “Exactly my thought.”
Sean grinned, but it was an exhausted gesture. “Good lad,” he said to his brother. “Already looking ahead to the future by expanding your lands.”
He closed his eyes and Kevin was finally catching on that his brother was growing weary. He went to the man, helping him pull up his coverlet. He stood over him a moment, watching him settle down.
“But it is only possible because of you,” he said softly. Reaching down, he put a gentle hand on Sean’s forehead. “I am ever grateful, Brother.”
Sean’s smile was fading as sleep pulled at him. “You are the most worthy man I know,” he said. “I know you will make me proud.”
Kevin continued to stand over Sean as he drifted off to sleep. He was still reeling from his brother’s gift, but the more the realization sank in, the more excited he was about it. Something he never thought would happen to him had now become reality.
Lord of the Trilaterals.
He’d never had a position of great power. He’d always been more of a man who took orders than a man who gave them, but that was about to change. He was a de Lara and de Laras never failed.
He didn’t want to be the first one.
He was certainly going to find out.
CHAPTER TWO
Two years later
Wales
“You do not belong here.”
Kevin was standing in the gatehouse of Wybren Castle, a castle he had just acquired as part of the Lords of the Trilaterals empire. Literally, he had only arrived this morning with seven hundred men, who were now spread out all over the castle, investigating their new home. Two of Kevin’s knights were supervising the inspection and inventory, while the third knight was standing slightly behind Kevin as they faced a delegation of incoming Welsh warlords.
And they were not welcoming.
“I have as much right to Wales as a native Welshman,” Kevin said, focused on the two he was facing off against while his knight, Gareth de Llion, kept an eye on the gang of Welshmen behind him, some with deadly crossbows. “My ancestor several generations back was the descendant of a lost Roman legion, so my blood has been in Wales before it was even a country. Do not come to my door telling me I do not belong here, for you would be wrong.”
The two men in the lead seemed taken aback by that suggestion. They were at the head of a self-appointed delegation of local warlords who did not want to see their lands infested with the English. They wanted to make sure that the new Lord of Wybren Castle, or Castle of the Sky some called it for its lofty keep, knew that there would be no local alliance.
No friendship.
No peace.
“You were not born in Wales,” a man with an eyepatch spoke angrily. “You were born with the filth of the Saesneg on you and now you bring that stench into my home, into my lands.”
“My home, my lands,” Kevin countered. “If you’ve come here only to tell me that you do not want me here, save your breath. I am here and I am staying.”
With that, he turned on his heel and marched back through the gatehouse. The portcullus dropped, the heavy reverberation causing the ground to shake as the Welsh stood there and watched, realizing that their mission to discourage the new English lord had just come to an abrupt end.
Hearing the English on the battlements as they shouted to one another and went about their business told the Welsh that their presence, from this point on, was being ignored. Unhappy, frustrated, they turned away from the gatehouse and began to head back the way they had come.
But it wasn’t the end of their protest.
“Damnable Saesneg,” the older of the pair grumbled. “Did you see all of the men he had with him? They’ll be dug in like vermin before the day is over.”
The man with the eyepatch was grinding his teeth. “I did not expect him to listen to us,” he said. “He’s a dense Saesneg, like all the rest. If we are to evict the man from Wybren, then we cannot do it alone. We will need help.”
“What help?” the older man said. “What ally is going to tangle with the House of de Lara? They can bring forth thousands of men and they would burn our homes, kill our women. Nay, Aeron, our protest is at an end. We will not be able to send him home and we will not harrass him. I fear if we do, it will only bring us trouble.”
Aeron ap Gruffudd looked at his companion, Glynn ap Hywel. Glynn was at least twenty years older than Aeron was and he’d see a great many things over the years. He tended to be less aggressive towards the English because he’d been party to battles that had seen many Welshmen killed. But Aeron was young and he hadn’t yet learned the restraint that Glynn had sheerly out of necessity.
The fire of hatred burned deep in his belly.
“De Lara does not belong here,” he said. “I will send word to my cousin to the south. His lands border those of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester, Christopher de Lohr. He has dealth with these English and he keeps de Lohr o
n his side of the border. Phylip can raise more men and help us push de Lara back into England where he belongs.”
“It is foolish, I tell you!”
“We do not need an English army in our midst!”
When they realized they were shouting, they glanced over their shoulders to make sure their men hadn’t heard them. Some had, but they were pretending they hadn’t. The whole lot of them was moving down the slope from Wybren and into the village that crowded up around the base of the hill where the castle was built. Villagers were looking at the Welsh warlords with some fear, all of them fearful at the turn of tides at the great Castle of the Sky.
Fear that times were changing with an English overlord and they were unable to stop it.
Perhaps they were fearful, and perhaps Glynn was even more fearful, but Aeron wasn’t. He was already thinking ahead to the man he would send south to his cousin’s domain, asking him for help in eliminating the English lord from Wybren. Phylip hated the English as much as anyone but he had tentative peace with de Lohr purely out of necessity.
De Lohr was ten times his strength and size.
Still, Aeron wasn’t going to give up.
He wanted de Lara out.
Dead or alive – it was all the same to him, so long as the man was gone.
CHAPTER THREE
Two months later
“If you wish to use this road, then you must pay the toll.”
The words came from a severe-looking English soldier, though he wasn’t speaking unkindly or cruelly. Simply matter-of-fact. Beneath skies of blue, with a swift and brisk wind blowing through the small valley that was crisp and clear and green, a well-dressed Welsh merchant and his manservant faced the six English soldiers guarding the road.
The merchant appeared rather stunned.
“But… I do not understand,” he said in his thickly accented English. “I have traveled this road my entire life. No one owns the road. Who has placed a toll booth here?”
Lord of the Sky (The Executioner Knights Book 6) Page 4