The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I… I do not think I have seen you here before,” she said after a moment. “Have we never met before now?”

  Cole shook his head. “Never,” he said. “I have known your father and brothers for years, of course, because they are allies with my father, but I have never been to The Keld. And I am sure you have never been to my home.”

  “Where is your home?”

  “Pelinom Castle. It is to the north, on the Scots border.”

  “You serve there with your father?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  For such a terrifying-looking man, in both size and manner, he had an unusual gentleness as he spoke to her. In fact, he had succeeded in calming her down, and Corisande wiped the last of her tears as Cole managed to make her feel a little less shaken. In fact, she felt better with his reassurance.

  “You have been very kind, my lord,” she said. “You did not have to take the time to speak with me after… after what happened, but I am grateful that you did.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “It was my pleasure,” he said. “You see, I have three sisters, only one of which is a calm, rational female. The other two are flighty and a bit dramatic at times, but they are sweet and lovable. They are my sisters, after all. Should they become upset over something, I would hope that someone would speak kindly to them and calm them.”

  Corisande grinned, revealing lovely teeth. “Then you are well-versed in handling hysterical woman.”

  He snorted. “Hardly,” he said. “Effie is a handful even in the best of times, but Addie is more manageable. There was a time when she would not leave me alone, sitting in my lap and holding my hand everywhere I went, the little goose. I could not shake her no matter what I did.”

  Corisande eyed him dubiously. “You probably did not even try.”

  “Of course I did,” he insisted. “But then she would cry and my mother would become angry, so I was forced to endure.”

  “And you loved it.”

  He lifted his chin defiantly. “I did not and you cannot make me say otherwise.”

  Corisande giggled at him because she could see that he was jesting. There was a lightness to the mood that hadn’t been there before and after the horrors of the day, it did her heart good. The man had a comforting manner about him, at least with her, and it intrigued her immensely. She liked it. In fact, she thought he was rather sweet and was about to taunt him again about his annoying little sister when the door to the solar suddenly slammed back on its hinges.

  Ares and Addax appeared, dragging the charred, smoldering corpse out into the entry. The stench of burned human flesh began to seep into the air, that sickening sweet smell, and Corisande had a quick, sickening glimpse of the body before Cole abruptly stood up and blocked her view.

  “Where is your chamber, my lady?” he asked steadily. “Mayhap it is time to retire until this mess is cleaned up.”

  Corisande was unable to see anything with that big body in her field of vision. “I do not think that is necessary,” she said. “My father’s will surely need my assistance now and…”

  He interrupted her, though he was not harsh. “Someone will attend to your father,” he said, standing on the bottom step so she had no choice but to stand up and move up a stair or two. “He has several knights at his disposal and hundreds of soldiers, so you needn’t worry. I realize you are the chatelaine and this is your domain, but let the men handle this. You do not need to sully your delicate senses with this unsavory task, my lady.”

  There was that kindness again, so unexpected from a man so fierce. Corisande found herself looking into those eyes, this time at close range, and seeing that they were truly remarkable. A golden-brown band circled the pupil and a bright green band encircled the golden-brown. They were looking at her pleasantly, but she had seen them turn hard when dealing with the Scotsman.

  They were quite remarkable as, she suspected, was he.

  “Your concern is most appreciated, my lord,” she said, smiling timidly. “But I do not need to retire to my chamber. I should be part of this. As you said, the keep is my domain. I cannot shirk my responsibilities, no matter how distasteful.”

  Cole opened his mouth to politely argue with her, but a shout from Alastor interrupted him.

  “Cori!” he boomed. “To your chamber!”

  Corisande caught sight of her father as he pushed past the men and servants hauling debris out his solar. “But –!”

  Alastor cut her off. “Argue with me and I will authorize de Velt to pick you up and bodily carry you to your chamber,” he said unhappily. “Get out of here. I will not tell you again.”

  By that time, he was almost to the stairs, and Corisande thought it would be best to obey the man. When he was angry, which was rare, it would do no good to argue. With a glance at Cole, and a grateful dip of her head for the concern he showed her, she gathered her skirts and rushed up the stairs, disappearing into the level above.

  Cole tried not to be too obvious about watching her as Alastor huffed and puffed beside him.

  “What did he say?” he demanded. “Canmore, I mean. He spoke Gaelic. What did he say?”

  Cole was distracted from his thoughts of the lovely Corisande by Alastor’s question. He knew Gaelic fluently because he had been raised on the borders, but also because of his position in the Scottish royal court. That was their primary language so if he wanted to understand anything, and convince them that he was Scots, then he had to know it flawlessly. Scratching his head, he turned to Alastor.

  “He said the truth lies in Berwick,” he said.

  Alastor was still worked up over the entire incident, the usually placid man twitching nervously. “Berwick?” he repeated. “That seems odd. Did he say the same thing to your father?”

  Cole shook his head. “He told my father that the Earls of Orkney had sent a request to their Northmen brethren last year, explaining this rebellion and asking for their assistance,” he said. “My father did what he had to do in order to encourage the truth from Canmore, as I told you when I arrived. He burned the man’s home and impaled his army. He spent an entire night interrogating Canmore, but the gist of what Canmore told him was this – the Northmen have had a year to prepare for this onslaught. Canmore knows that they are preparing to come to the shores of England in the summer, but he does not know exactly when. My father asked him twenty different ways and Canmore’s answers were consistent.”

  “And he is certain it was the truth?”

  “As certain as he can be,” Cole said. “All Canmore knows is that he is waiting for word from William the Lion as to when and where to move his army, but he doesn’t know anything more than that. In my two years in Scotland, I was unable to discover little more than what Canmore told my father, so the words tha an fhìrinn ann am Bearaig – the truth lies in Berwick – is something new. I’ve not heard it before.”

  Alastor was watching his soldiers enter the keep with a litter to put the burned corpse upon. “Then mayhap he had enough of that wine to loosen his tongue just a little.”

  “Possibly.”

  “In all of your time at the side of William, you never heard the mention of Berwick?”

  Cole shook his head. “My directive was not to become an advisor or close confidant,” he said. “My directive from The Marshal was to observe. That meant I only heard certain things. There were times William called a special council, but I was excluded like the rest of his guard. But Alpin had been part of those gatherings, which was why we thought he could supply any information I missed.”

  It made sense. The life of a spy meant to blend in. Alastor rubbed a hand over his face, struggling to think.

  “Berwick has a river,” he muttered. “A river that flows deep into England, the border between England and Scotland.”

  Cole nodded. “That is true,” he said. He paused before continuing, his tone ominous. “A river that is deep.”

  “How deep?”

  “Deep enough to accommodate longships.”


  Alastor looked at him, surprised. “God’s Bones,” he said. “Do you suppose that was what he meant?”

  Cole lifted his shoulders. “It is possible,” he said. “My father’s methods were brutal, so it is a tribute to Canmore’s self-control that he didn’t mention Berwick to him, but the wine… he must have had just enough of it, as you said. Enough that he let Berwick slip. That was something I did not know.”

  Alastor sighed heavily. “Then it must be Berwick,” he said. “Sometime in the summer, those longships will come to Berwick.”

  That realization wasn’t lost on Cole. In fact, he felt a sense of urgency about it because it made perfect sense. If there was to be an invasion by the Northmen, the River Tweed would be a perfect vessel for their onslaught. It would cut England and Scotland in half and they could bombard and attack from the river. They could even bring Scotsmen on those longships and launch them into England that way.

  The possibilities were endless.

  “I must send word not only to my father, but to William Marshal,” he said. “He will want to know.”

  “Who does Berwick Castle belong to these days?” Alastor asked. “Do you suppose the garrison commander is in league with the Scots?”

  Cole cast him a long look. “You do not know?”

  Alastor shook his head. “Berwick is a far enough away that I do not normally concern myself with the town,” he said. “Carlisle is the largest city nearest to me and that is where I focus my attention. Why? What is happening with Berwick?”

  Cole lifted his eyebrows. “You are not going to like the answer,” he said. “King Richard sold Berwick to the Scots right before he went on crusade to raise money for his armies. It has belonged to the Scots ever since.”

  Alastor shook his head with regret. “I knew of that,” he said. “But that was twenty years ago. I suppose I was hoping against hope that it was again an English garrison after all these years.”

  “It is not.”

  “Then the Scots at the garrison will make it easy for the longships to enter the river.”

  “And straight into the heart of England.”

  That was the truth of it. Even as Cole spoke the words, he felt as if he’d just been hit by a hammer. Everything they’d wanted to know had just become clear.

  Unless, of course, it was a diversion to throw them off the path of the true plans.

  But Cole didn’t think Canmore was that smart.

  “I must tell my father,” he repeated. “And unless we want the Scots at Berwick to openly welcome the Northmen, we are going to have to gain control of that castle before the summer months arrive.”

  Alastor looked at him. “I will pledge my army for that purpose,” he said. “Tell me what more you need, Cole. I will do what I can to support the efforts.”

  “I will,” Cole said. “I will send word to my father tonight. I would not be surprised if he came to The Keld to discuss the situation with you.”

  “I would be honored by his visit.”

  There wasn’t much more to say at that point. They both knew the implications. What Ajax de Velt’s army couldn’t accomplish, some strong wine could. As Alastor went after his sons to inform them of his discussion with Cole about Berwick, Cole headed out to find Addax and Essien to tell them the same thing. There was a great deal at stake and no time to waste.

  Alpin Canmore’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

  He told the English what they wanted to know, and they would be ready.

  Or die trying.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  That evening’s feast wasn’t like any other.

  Tonight, it was different.

  At least, that’s how Corisande felt as she gazed out over the packed great hall. It was full of men, feasting and laughing and drinking, and the enormous hearth was spitting more smoke into the room than was probably going up the chimney, so a fine haze of blue smoke hung up near the ceiling.

  In spite of what had happened that afternoon, the mood of the hall was one of gaiety. As if a man hadn’t burned to death in Alastor’s hearth, a man who had been key to much of the political winds that were blowing in their direction. As Corisande looked out over the hall, it was as if the men of The Keld hadn’t a care in the world.

  At least, that was the attitude of the rank and file. On the dais, however, the mood was a quite different. Those men knew what had transpired earlier in the day because they’d been part of it, so they were a bit more subdued.

  Perhaps reflecting on what the future would bring.

  “Who are those men with Papa?”

  The question came from Corisande’s younger sister, and the youngest de Bourne sibling, Gaia. She had seen ten years and eight and was newly returned from fostering at Prudhoe Castle. Corisande had only seen her youngest sister intermittently over the past seven years until her return home a few months ago, so the sisters were still coming to know one another as grown women. But Corisande knew one thing for certain –

  Her sister was man-crazy.

  She was a pretty little thing, too, petite and blonde as their mother had been. Already, she was giving Alastor and her older brothers fits because she would flirt and tease, and then her father and brothers would have to rush in to fend off the men she had been toying with. There was one squire in particular, one who had served with distinction for a few years, who Gaia would not leave alone. The poor young man had been the object of her attention since her return to The Keld and three weeks ago, Alastor finally sent the lad south to an ally’s home simply to get him away from his man-eating daughter.

  Now, Gaia was already eyeing the visitors to The Keld, Cole de Velt included, and Corisande knew there was going to be trouble.

  Gaia had little restraint when she saw a man she found attractive.

  “Those men are important allies,” she said. “They are here on serious business with Papa and you will not embarrass him. No winking, smiling, or pinching, Gaia. Do you understand?”

  Gaia looked at her sister, frowning. “What has happened to you?” she said. “You used to be much more fun when we were younger. When did you become so serious?”

  Corisande had limited patience for her sister’s antics these days. “I have grown up but, evidently, you have not,” she said. “Do not behave like a trollop. Papa has warned you against such things. Now, where is Gratiana?”

  She was asking about the female ward they’d had at The Keld for three years now, a young woman from a good family that had a small castle on the Welsh Marches. Lady Gratiana de Allington was a mature young woman of good character and, fortunately, didn’t subscribe to Gaia’s foolery. In fact, Gaia frightened her, so she didn’t usually solicit her company.

  And Gaia knew it.

  Therefore, she lifted her slender shoulders in a careless gesture.

  “Who knows?” she said. “More importantly, who cares? Gratiana is as bad as you are when it comes to fun. The woman does not have a frivolous bone in her entire body.”

  Corisande eyed her little sister, wondering for the hundredth time about the company she must have kept at Prudhoe that gave her such an attitude. Little Gaia was quite worldly, and not in a good way, and Corisande found herself wondering just how her sister would embarrass herself tonight in front of the visitors.

  Keeping her busy was the only solution.

  “Return to the kitchens and make sure the cook has more bread being prepared,” she said. “Your help in the kitchens is invaluable to me. I appreciate it.”

  Gaia rolled her eyes, clearly displeased. “But I should be sitting at the table with Papa and the others,” she said. “So should you. Why are we serving the meal? We are not servants.”

  Corisande looked at her. “Nay, we are not,” she said, “but we are the daughters of the Lord of The Keld, and that means we ensure that everything is perfect for his men and his guests. They taught you that at Prudhoe, didn’t they?”

  Gaia’s expression suggested they had, but she’d hated every minute of it. “I have l
earned everything I need to know,” she said, turning her nose up at anything that involved management or domestic responsibilities. “I want to sit with Papa and his guests. Who are they, anyway? Do you know them?”

  Corisande’s gaze moved to the table where her father and brothers were sitting with Cole and his men. Specifically, her focus lingered on Cole, seated between Ares and her father, listening to Alastor as he went on about something. As she looked at him, she couldn’t help but remember how kind he’d been to her earlier and her sister’s question stirred something odd in her…

  Jealousy.

  She didn’t like the idea of her sister paying attention to Cole and she had no idea why except she’d rather liked his attention on her. She didn’t want that same kindness turned to her lascivious sister, where it would be wasted. Corisande was rather old not to have been married yet, and it had been a long time since she’s given any regard to a man who showed her attention. It wasn’t as if she’d had a lack of attention from suitors, but the only man she’d ever considered marrying had gone off to France three years ago.

  Sir Auden de Stroude had been his name. He was the last of his family, an old family from Cornwall, and she’d met him when he served the Earl of Hexham, her father’s close ally. Auden was sweet and handsome, and he’d paid her a great deal of attention, so much so that her father demanded to know the man’s intentions.

  Before they’d been able to discuss it, however, Auden had been sent to properties in France owned by Hexham. There were disputes there and Auden was supposed to defend the properties, and negotiate a truce, but he never returned. Hexham told Alastor that the knight had married a local noblewoman to secure peace, and that was the last time Corisande had really thought about a man in romantic terms.

  But the introduction of Cole de Velt had awakened something.