Hugh had to sit down. He grabbed for the nearest chair, sitting heavily in it. He had to digest what he was being told because he’d gone through most of his life believing his son didn’t want to see him. But now he was being told quite the opposite.
Was it actually true?
He was having a difficult time reconciling it.
He wanted to believe, but…
“Ambrose always told me that Magnus dinna wish tae see me,” he said, sounding weak and confused. “Even when Magnus was a lad, I would send him missives, but he never sent anything back tae me. Ambrose told me that Magnus burned them.”
Agnes shook her head. “It is not true,” she said. “He would tell Magnus you never asked for him. It was Ambrose who burned your missives.”
The realization began to dawn on him. Ambrose had orchestrated the entire situation, and as that news settled, Hugh was nearly beside himself.
“My God,” he muttered. “What has that man done? Magnus may be my bastard, but he is the only son I have. Ye know I’ve never had any children with my wife.”
Agnes nodded. “I know,” she said. “Hugh, there is no time to discuss this in full. I am telling you this now because Magnus is in jeopardy again. Ambrose is raising an army against you, and he wants Magnus to lead it by telling him more lies about you. He wants Magnus’s sense of vengeance against you to lead his armies to victory.”
Hugh looked at her, horrified. “What’s this ye say?” he hissed. “He has turned my son against me?”
“Not completely,” Agnes said. “I believe there may still be hope, but I do not know for certain. All I know is that you must help Magnus. You must tell him the truth, that you do not hate him, so that Ambrose cannot use him against you. Magnus is in a precarious position.”
“Why do ye say that?”
Agnes was running out of time. She knew she had to get back on the road swiftly before her carriage was sighted by any number of Ambrose’s allies or spies. He seemed to have them everywhere, even out here in the country, and that made her nervous.
“I saw Magnus recently,” she said. “He told me that he is a warrior at the greatest fight guild in all of Scotland. I had not heard of the place, but Ambrose explained that it is the Ludus Caledonia where men are trained to be great warriors. It is also a gambling establishment where men can wager on the fights. Do you know of it?”
Hugh nodded, rising from his chair. “Of course I do,” he said. “I’ve been there several times. Are ye telling me that my son is a warrior there?”
“That is what he told me. Were you at the Ludus Caledonia recently?”
“Last year,” he said, stunned. “I must have seen him but dinna even know it. I’ve not seen him since he was young. I wouldna know him if I saw him as a grown man.”
Agnes moved close enough to put a hand on his arm. Her gaze drifted over him. “He looks just like you,” she said, a glimmer in her eyes. “He is handsome and powerful. He has your eyes, Hugh. You must go to him. Help him. Do not let Ambrose turn him against you once and for all.”
Hugh didn’t know what to say. He was overwhelmed with everything, struggling to remain on an even keel. But he knew one thing—he was appreciative of Agnes’s appearance. Her bravery had meant all the difference in his small corner of the world.
And he had no idea why she should do it.
“Why would ye risk yerself tae tell me this, Agnes?” he asked. “Ye’ve gone against yer husband. Why?”
She shrugged. “Because he did the same thing to me,” she said. “He turned my son against me, too. He thinks I do not know, but I do. I have watched him do it to others, but for you, he seems to have a particular brand of hatred. I could not stand by and do nothing.”
Hugh looked at her, long and hard. “Swear it tae me,” he said softly. “Swear tae me this is all true.”
“I swear to you upon my own life that it is true.”
He believed her.
“Then ye canna know how grateful I am,” he said. “I will find Magnus and I will tell him… I’m not sure what I’ll tell him, but whatever it is, it will be the truth.”
Agnes gave his arm a squeeze before releasing him. Quickly, she wrapped herself back up in the cloak, making sure to drape the veil over her face.
“I must go,” she said. “You did not see me here. Tell your majordomo the same. Ambrose must not know I was here, Hugh.”
Hugh opened the door for her. It was a straight path out to her waiting carriage.
“Not a word, Agnes,” he promised. “I’ll take it tae my grave.”
Agnes wished he’d used a different choice of words. As she scurried out to her waiting escort, she found herself repeating his words in her head.
I’ll take it tae my grave.
She hoped the grave it was taken to wouldn’t be her own if Ambrose discovered what she’d done.
Chapter Ten
He traveled like a Roman Caesar.
Clegg de Lave, from an excellent Norman family based in Cornwall, hadn’t seen Cornwall since he was a lad. He’d always had big dreams and big ambitions, ambitions that had taken him all over the known world. He’d had more experiences, adventures, and incidents than most men would have in two lifetimes, but Clegg had a bigger-than-life persona and savored everything life had to offer. He learned all he could, studied all he could, tasted all he could.
The culmination of that experience was a series of fight guilds in the south of Scotland.
The Ludus Caledonia…
The Ludus Antonine…
The Ludus Hadrian…
The Ludus Trimontium…
And the latest one, the Ludus Valentia.
Clegg had just come from overseeing the final construction of an amphitheater that was enormous and sleek, built to accommodate five hundred patrons. The Ludus Valentia was in Dumfries, in the hills to the southwest in a naturally bowled-out area that once was a lake. But Clegg drained the lake and built his complex, something he’d been working on for more than a year. Given the close proximity of the location to everything south of Glasgow and most of the Lowlands, he already had men clamoring to attend the games that would not take place for several more months.
But that was the nature of Clegg’s business—supply and demand.
He fully intended to supply.
He traveled in a caravan that looked like something out of the spice trade on the rolling sands of Morocco—lavish dressings for the horses, gaily painted carriages, soldiers with lush tunics, and more. That was the nature of Clegg’s flamboyance.
As his escort headed up the road toward his home of Caelian Hill, he was glad to be back at his premier venue. From inside his comfortable carriage, he watched the predawn landscape around him, thinking back to the days when he had come to this mountain to establish his first venue. It seemed like so long ago.
He’d built much in his lifetime.
Behind his carriage, there was a second carriage full of men. He had brought two new top warriors with him and six novicius, new men to try out at his largest venue. As the caravan drew closer to the top of the hill, they were greeted by men riding out from the Ludus Caledonia.
Axel was the first one to come alongside Clegg’s carriage.
“My lord,” he greeted Clegg. “Welcome home.”
Clegg flashed his big, white teeth at his manager. “Axel,” he said with satisfaction. “It is good to see you again. I have been away too long, I fear. I have missed my home.”
Axel smiled in return to a man he was genuinely fond of. “Your home has missed you, but all has been well,” he said. “It has been prosperous while you have been away.”
That brought interest from Clegg. “Is that so?” he said. “I am pleased, then. I look forward to going over the accounting with you.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Clegg threw a thumb in
the direction of the wagon behind him. “I have brought you more men,” he said. “I journeyed to Hades to make sure all is as it should be and to collect the revenue. We must dismiss the manager, however, for I fear he is keeping some of the winnings himself.”
He was speaking of the Ludus Hadrian in Carlisle, known as “Hades,” and nearly as successful as the Ludus Caledonia. Axel looked at him in surprise.
“Dismiss Gideon Lloyd?” he said. “But he has been with us a long time. His reputation is without equal.”
Clegg grunted and shook his head. “That is true, but he married last year and his wife has an appetite for fine things,” he said. “The woman was dripping in jewels, and I know for a fact that Gideon does not make that kind of money, so he is getting it from somewhere. I left Luther there to see if he could discover if Gideon has been cheating us. I told Luther that if he felt the man has been abusing his position, he has my permission to dismiss him.”
Axel nodded. “Mayhap I will go to Hades and see for myself,” he said. “Is there anything else of note?”
“Nay,” Clegg grunted. “I went to Antonine, too, but everything there is as it should be. No thieving managers to report. And here? You said all has been well?”
Axel nodded. “Mostly,” he said. “Nothing to report, except for last night. The Eagle had some trouble.”
Clegg grew serious very quickly. “Not Magnus,” he said. “Please tell me the man is not injured.”
Axel shook his head quickly. “He is fine,” he said. “But he was forced to kill his opponent last night, a Saxon warrior known as the Bear. The man was out to kill Magnus, and I am convinced that Magnus acted in self-defense. I am telling you because the Bear’s trainer is demanding compensation for his loss, and he is demanding to see you upon your return.”
Clegg didn’t seem particularly concerned. “I will see him when I am rested,” he said. “That could take weeks. Months, even. But send for Magnus. I want to speak with him. Did you punish him?”
Axel shook his head. “Nay, because the Bear was twice his size and out for Magnus’s blood. Truly, he had no choice.”
“Then there is no problem, but I would speak to Magnus anyway.”
“As you wish, my lord. Is there anything else you desire?”
“Not immediately, but do not stray far. I want to hear more of what happened while I was away, but not at the moment.”
They finished the rest of the journey in relative silence, with Axel escorting Clegg home as he always did. Clegg was a wealthy man, wealthier than God as the rumors went, so he expected a certain amount of respect and admiration.
When the carriage came to a halt, Axel and Wendell were there to make sure Clegg was escorted inside and his baggage collected. It was Wendell who went to the other wagon with the men inside, releasing the warriors and taking them to the warriors’ village for orientation.
Somewhere in the process, word was sent to Magnus.
On two hours of sleep, Magnus answered the summons.
***
“I hear there was a death, Magnus. Tell me about it.”
Magnus was standing in Clegg’s solar, which was quite possibly the most lavish chamber in all of Scotland. There were rare hides on the floor, expensive leather furniture, and tapestries on the walls from distant and exotic places. Most of all, it smelled heavily of incense that Clegg had sent all the way from Rome. He burned the stuff heavily, as he felt it kept him healthy and sane.
Magnus thought it smelled like dirty feet.
At the moment, Clegg was burning it happily, inhaling deeply of a scent he’d missed. Dressed in his usual garb of flowing robes made from expensive materials, he’d just asked a question that Magnus had been expecting, so he replied honestly.
He wasn’t a man who condoned lying, in any case.
“Aye, m’laird,” he said after a moment. “A man I was fighting.”
“Axel said he wanted to kill you.”
Magnus nodded. “He did,” he said frankly. “I had beaten him in a bout before, and he would not take his money and leave. Instead, he demanded a rematch. I was told that he was known tae kill his opponents, so I knew that was his intention with me. Everyone knew it, including Axel. I had no other choice but tae kill him before he could kill me.”
Clegg waved his hand in the gray ribbons of smoke rising from the incense bowl as he continued to inhale deeply. “You have every right to defend yourself, Magnus,” he said. “I do not fault you for what had to be done. But we will not make a habit of this, shall we? Killing your opponents is bad for business.”
“I understand, m’laird.”
“Good.” Clegg took one last sniff of the incense smoke and came around the table, looking at Magnus at closer range. “I was at the Ant a few weeks ago and saw many of your old comrades. They send their greetings.”
Magnus grinned; he couldn’t help it. Clegg was speaking of the Ludus Antonine in Glasgow where Magnus had spent several years of his life prior to coming to the Ludus Caledonia. He had enjoyed his time there immensely.
“And how is that motley group, m’laird?” he asked.
Clegg snorted. “As motley as ever,” he said. “But making me money, so I do not care. I brought one of them back with me, in fact. Aurelius Finn.”
Magnus’s eyebrows lifted. “The Celtic Storm?” he said with surprise. “I’ve not seen the man in years.”
Clegg could see the pleasure on Magnus’s face. “You’ll see him now,” he said. “I knew he was your friend, so I have invited him to fight at the Cal. A happy Magnus is a victorious Magnus. Does this please you?”
“It does, m’laird, very much.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Magnus’s smile faded. Clegg’s question had him grasping at a variety of responses. His first thought was of Diantha, something Clegg would find out about sooner or later now that he had returned.
He wanted to be honest about it.
“Aye, m’laird,” he said. “There is a…woman.”
Clegg’s eyebrows lifted curiously as he moved to a table containing a rock-crystal decanter of wine and matching cups. “A woman?” he said. “Someone you want?”
Magnus watched the man as he poured ruby-red liquid into a cup. “Nay,” he said. “It is not one I want, at least not in the manner ye’re suggesting. It is a woman I knew long ago. She has come tae me for help and I have agreed.”
Clegg’s curiosity grew. “What kind of help?”
“She wants tae return to Navarre,” he said, which was true. So far, he’d managed to avoid lying to Clegg about the situation. “She has asked me tae help her earn money for her passage. She is very intelligent and can read and write several languages. She has offered tae help those at the Cal learn tae read and write if they wish as a way of earning money.”
Clegg apparently didn’t think that sounded too outlandish. There was a time when he had been adamant about not having women at the Ludus Caledonia other than comfort women for the warriors, but over the past few years, he’d greatly relaxed that stance, which was why Magnus had no fear in asking. He was certain Clegg would agree.
As it turned out, he was right.
“I have no concern with her remaining,” he said. “But if she needs money, why not just give it to her?”
Magnus smiled ironically. “I have tried,” he said. “She willna take it. She says she willna take money she hasna earned.”
“A lady who will not take your money but would rather work for it? Astonishing.”
“She is…unusual, ’tis true,” Magnus said. “If ye’re agreeable, I will spread the word that she’s willing tae teach for a small price.”
Clegg didn’t hesitate. “That might be beneficial,” he said. “I think some of our warriors might wish to learn. What languages does she speak?”
“She is from Navarre, so
she speaks Spanish,” Magnus said. “She also speaks English, French, and Catalan.”
“Ah,” Clegg said. “An educated woman.”
“Aye, m’laird.”
Clegg scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Does she know Latin?”
“I dunna know, but I shall ask.”
“Do,” Clegg said. “Mayhap I can give her some work. I have many volumes from Rome, written in Latin, that she may be able to translate for me. My Latin is not as good as my English.”
“I shall ask, m’laird,” Magnus said. “Thank ye for allowing her tae remain.”
“Where is she sleeping?”
“In my cottage, m’laird.”
Clegg snorted. “I might have known,” he said. “Well, keep her to yourself if you wish. As I said…a happy Magnus is a victorious Magnus.”
Magnus knew exactly what Clegg meant. Magnus’s reputation as a womanizer wasn’t something that bothered him until this very moment. He wasn’t keeping Diantha in his cottage so he could ravish her nightly, but Clegg thought that was the exact reason. Magnus didn’t care that Clegg thought that of him because it was a true assumption, but Diantha…
She wasn’t that kind of woman.
He didn’t like that others might assume she was.
“Ye have my thanks, m’laird,” he said after a moment. “Do ye wish tae speak with me about anything else?”
Clegg shook his head. “Nay,” he said, waving a hand. “You may go, Magnus.”
Magnus did, heading out into the early morning, his mind lingering on the conversation with Clegg.
He purposely didn’t tell the man about Diantha’s association with the Duke of Ayr. Had he mentioned it, and the fact that she ran from the man, Clegg probably wouldn’t have been so agreeable to her remaining. To harbor an escaped hostage was the same thing as stealing, and the fact that Diantha was at the Ludus Caledonia was putting Clegg in the path of a vengeful Duke of Ayr.
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