Medieval Master Warlords (57 page)

Allaston digested the information. Her expression was guarded, sad. “Did you give your men orders to rape that poor woman?”

He shook his head. “It is considered spoils of war,” he said emotionlessly. “If they consider it a reward, then I will not stop them. These men fight for me not because they love me but because I provide them with reward. The lady of Cloryn, as well as the lady of Rhayder, was a part of the spoils.”

Allaston winced and lowered her gaze. “The lady of Rhayder, too?” she asked, feeling sickened. “Bretton, if you could do one thing for me, I would beg you to please call your men off from defiling any more women. Please leave them some dignity since you are taking away their very lives. Had you not been seeking me as part of your plan to lure my father, then it could just as easily have been me that your men defiled and murdered. How would that make you feel, knowing me as you do now? Would you like for your men to abuse me to the point of death, touching me in a way that only… only my husband should touch me?”

That hard, guarded expression came over his features again, but Allaston wasn’t sure if it was because he was growing angry with her or because he was thinking on nameless, faceless soldiers violating her body in all possible ways. She reached out to touch his arm, feeling the hard sinew and muscle beneath her fingers.

“I am not trying to upset you, truly,” she said. “But it is so barbaric and terrible to do this to women whose only crime is to be lady of the castle. I am only asking you to consider showing a measure of mercy to them, Bretton. It would mean a great deal to me.”

His expression was still hard. “Why?”

She grew serious. “Because I do not believe that you are all monster,” she said. “I believe there is some good left in you. You would have killed me long ago, as Jax de Velt’s daughter, if there was not some measure of decency left in you. I would like to hope the man I marry allows for that decency to show.”

He very much wanted to disregard her but there was a large part of him that wanted to listen to her. It gave him hope. She wanted to respect him, which was an utterly foreign concept in his world. There was no respect in the dominion of Bretton de Llion, only fear. But he couldn’t give her an answer. Would that long-buried decency she spoke of surface for her because she wished it and asked for it? Only time would tell.

“I cannot know for certain what will happen in the future,” he said. “As for showing mercy, some would perceive that as weakness and I will not show weakness to my men. Remaining as I am, with ruthlessness, is the only way to maintain control for my purposes.”

Allaston knew that would be his answer but she was not discouraged. “Then mayhap you will at least think on what I have said when the time comes,” she said quietly. “Mayhap you will think of mercy the next time you are faced with a frightened woman whose only crime was living in a castle you want as your own. Throw her in the vault, or do whatever you have to do in order to keep her from your men, but I would pray that whatever comes, you consider showing mercy in all things. I… I want to be very fond of you, Bretton. Mayhap even love you. Please give me a reason to.”

Bretton refused to look at her, as he was in the process of removing his mail and tunic, thinking to use some of that sweet-scented water on his dirty, weary body. More than that, he thought that he needed some time to think on all of this. There had been a great many things said over the past several minutes. He needed time to digest it all. He was, at the moment, overwhelmed by everything. He wasn’t accustomed to such personal conversations.
Give me a reason to love you.
He just couldn’t bring himself to speak on it. The mere thought made him feel wildly uncomfortable and wildly joyful. Since he couldn’t adequately respond, it was best not to until he could.

“The room I rented is directly across the corridor,” he told her, ignoring her last statement altogether. “You may go to bed. I will be there shortly. If you run into any hazardous situations in the three steps it takes to cross the corridor, then scream. I will come.”

Allaston watched him as he peeled off his tunic, revealing a magnificently scarred and sculpted chest. She was beginning to feel disappointment that he hadn’t responded to her statement regarding mercy and love, but seeing his bare flesh quickly diverted her attention. Having never really seen a naked man under such intimate circumstances, her cheeks immediately flushed red and she averted her gaze. But she wasn’t embarrassed enough that she didn’t sneak a couple of glances before quitting the bathing room. He was rather delicious to look at and the sight set her heart to racing. It didn’t take much imagination to think of his flesh against hers, something completely foreign to her but utterly titillating. She was so caught up in stealing glances of his naked skin that she smacked into the door as she went to open it. Startled, she grasped the latch and threw open the door.

“I will bid you a good sleep, then,” she said, trying to cover up her embarrassment.

Bretton was running a rag along the back of his neck. “Why?” he asked. “I will be with you in a moment.”

Allaston didn’t reply. She was too busy trying to get away from the sight of all that naked flesh. Once inside the small but comfortable chamber across the hall, she noticed that someone had put food on the small table near the very warm hearth, and she delved into the bread and cheese hungrily. She even took a piece of cheese to bed with her, eating it lying in bed as she thought of her conversation with de Llion.

There wasn’t much to think about, really. The conversation had been circular, as she had mentioned, rolling over the same subjects again and again, only now there was the added element of a marriage between them. She could only pray that she could eventually break de Llion down of his hatred against her father. Perhaps if she could make him happy, if she could fill those big holes inside of him that drove the man to do what he did, then maybe he would be willing to forget about de Velt. Perhaps she could fill his mind, and his heart, with something better. It was all she could truly hope for.

I am not sure I can let go of what I have become.

His words kept rolling over in her mind but she pushed them aside. She wouldn’t dwell on them, not tonight. Finishing her cheese, she said her prayers and rolled over, falling asleep almost immediately. Exhaustion and a full belly saw to it. She was sleeping so soundly that she didn’t hear Bretton enter the room a short time later.

Noticing Allaston was asleep, he wasn’t really surprised. He was almost relieved. He just didn’t have the energy to continue their conversation. Therefore, he finished the food that was left on the table and lay down on the floor next to the tiny bed. It wasn’t where he wanted to be but he suspected she would not take his presence on the mattress next to her very well, undoubtedly leading into more of an exhausting conversation and a restless night. And he very much wanted to rest and to think about what had been said.

For him, there was so much more at stake, things she would never understand. It was much more than showing mercy. It was trying to change the unchangeable. Did he want to do as she asked? He did. Whether or not he could was another matter altogether. Her hand was hanging over the side of the bed, right over his head. Reaching up, he stole a secret touch of her soft flesh, as light as butterfly wings, as he thought on the things she had said to him.
Give me a reason to love you
. He wanted to. With God as his witness he did. But he wasn’t sure he could.

The entire ride back to Cloryn the next day was completed in brooding silence.

℘

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

De Lohr must know.

Rod’s first impulse upon leaving The Falcon and Flower Inn in Newtown was to go to Lioncross Abbey and tell de Lohr of his meeting with his cousin. The man would want to know, so in a blinding rainstorm, Rod set out for the southern Marches and de Lohr’s fortress. It was a fair distance away, at least a day’s long ride, so he set off at a steady pace, but it soon became clear that traveling in a rainstorm in the dead of night was unsafe at best. His horse had tripped twice and the second time, he had nearly pitched off the animal.

Therefore, he had been forced to stop at a farmer’s hovel along the way. The old farmer provided him with his stable to sleep in, and it was dry and fairly warm so it wasn’t entirely miserable. The rain let up before dawn and Rod was back on the road again, heading for Lioncross Abbey.

The rain the night before had created divots on some of the roads where the mud had washed away and holes remained, which slowed his pace somewhat. As the sun came out and began to dry up the water, the fields were alive with foraging creatures, and he passed more than one farmer on his trip south. He even passed a man who had an entire cart full of small green apples, he told Rod, from a tree that he had pruned in the wintertime and was now producing fruit. He gave Rod a few to take with him. They were extremely sour but, hungry, Rod managed to choke them down. It was better than nothing. He gave his horse the apple cores and let the beast graze for a few minutes, watching it chomp down the fat, wet grass along the road.

But he didn’t take too long for eating. He had someplace to be, so he continued along the road that was growing increasingly better to travel on as the rain dried up. With his steady pace and the better road conditions, he was able to make it to Lioncross well under what he had estimated. As he reached a crest in the road overlooking de Lohr’s great fortress in the distance, he could immediately see a rather large encampment about a half mile to the north.

It took him a moment to realize it was an army. He could see standards flying. Startled, he watched and waited to see what the army was doing. It seemed to be sitting there, camping, minding its own business, and Lioncross seemed unruffled. He could see men in the distance as they moved freely on the road in and around the castle, so clearly, the castle wasn’t under siege. Curious, he spurred his charger onward.

True to form, Lioncross’ main gate was open, the portcullis up, as people moved about without a care in the world. It was sunset and Rod knew the great portcullis would soon be closing, sealing in the castle for the night. As he thundered beneath the gatehouse and entered the bailey, his gaze fell upon Max Cornwallis standing near the smithy shack. Max spied him, waving a big hand in his direction, as he made his way towards him.

Wearily, Rod dismounted his charger and asked a soldier to take the beast over to the stable. Just as the soldier walked away with the exhausted horse, Max and Rod met up.

“Back, I see?” Max asked. “I thought you were staying at Bronllys.”

Rod lifted his eyebrows, an exhausted gesture as well as a knowing one. “I was,” he said. “I had to go on an errand. Where is de Lohr?”

Max gestured to the keep. “Inside,” he said. “But before you go into the keep, you should know that we have a visitor.”

Rod nodded. “I know,” he said. “I saw an army camped about a half mile to the north but I couldn’t make out the standards. Who is it?”

Max recited the name deliberately for maximum impact. “Jax de Velt.”

Rod’s eyes widened. He had never been any good at hiding his feelings, so his measure of surprise was more dramatic than most.

“Ajax
de Velt
?” he repeated, astonished. “What is he doing here? And why isn’t he burning down the fortress and sticking us all up on poles?”

Max snorted. “Because he has come on a peaceful mission,” he said, sobering. “He received a missive that his daughter has been abducted. He came to see Chris because, being a major marcher lord, he thought de Lohr would know something more about it.”

Rod scowled. “He is here
peacefully?
”

“He is indeed.”

“Is that even possible?”

Max nodded. “It is,” he said, turning Rod in the direction of the keep entry. “Go inside and see him.”

Rod was afraid to. He was torn between curiosity and terror. In fact, he started backing away, his gaze moving nervously over the keep. “We discussed the scenario should de Velt come to the Marches, bent on blood,” he said. “You were there, Max. You heard what was said, what we feared.”

Max nodded patiently. “I know what we feared,” he said. “But trust me when I tell you that de Velt is here to seek help in saving his daughter and nothing more. Chris has offered to help him.”

Rod still wasn’t sure about the entire situation but at least he’d stopped backing up. His dubious gaze was on Max. “How long has he been here?”

“Two days.”

“No executions? No men on poles?”

Max laughed softly. “None of those things,” he said, pointing to the keep again. “Go inside. The man will not tear the hide from you. He’s actually not so bad once you come to know him. Suffice it to say that time has matured and changed him, I think. He is as normal as you and I are.”

Rod’s eyebrows flew up. “Normal? De Velt?” he shook his head, now moving towards the keep. His curiosity had the better of him. “This is something I must see for myself.”

Leaving Max grinning in the bailey, Rod took the steps up to the keep and entered the cool, dark foyer. Directly in front of him was the great hall of Lioncross and he could hear soft voices deep inside the room.

As he approached the hall entry in the shape of the classic Norman arch, he saw a few servants moving around inside the room and there were four soldiers, de Lohr soldiers, near the door. Rod entered the hall to see Christopher and Edward with their backs to him, and a very large man with his long hair tied back at the nape of his neck all sitting at the feasting table. There was also another unfamiliar knight at the table and as Rod approached, the unfamiliar knight stood up, glaring at him with hostility. Rod glared back, insulted by the expression, as Christopher turned around to face him.

“Rod,” he said with surprise, rising to his feet. “I was not expecting you. What brings you back to Lioncross?”

Rod showed due respect to Christopher but the truth was that he couldn’t keep his focus off the big man and the unfamiliar knight at the table. The man had oddly colored eyes and was rather intimidating. At least, Rod thought so. Something about those eyes unnerved him.

“My lord,” he greeted Christopher. “I have come with more news about the mercenary. I hope my appearance is not inopportune.”

Christopher waved him off. “Of course not,” he said. “In fact, it is most welcome. Allow me to introduce you to Sir Ajax de Velt and his son, Sir Coleby de Velt. They, too, have come to Lioncross because of the mercenary. My lords, this is one of my finest vassals, Sir Rod de Titouan.”

It was a polite mutual introduction and Rod nodded respectfully to Jax, less respectfully to his arrogant son. Coleby seemed to have an arrogant attitude and Rod had visions of punching the young knight in the face should he continue his mental chest-beating. But his focus soon returned to Christopher.

“I have much to tell, my lord,” he said. “Things that will, coincidentally, interest Lord de Velt. May I sit? It has been a long ride.”

Christopher indicated for him to sit on his left hand, pouring the weary knight a measure of wine as Rod sat heavily. As Rod downed the entire cup of wine, Christopher eyed him with growing concern. He appeared exhausted, that was true, but there was something more, something he didn’t like.

“Tell us, Rod,” he quietly encouraged the man. “What more do you know?”

As Rod gazed at the two great knights, he almost didn’t know where to start. In truth, he was still a bit rattled to be sitting across the table from the infamous Jax de Velt, so he struggled to overcome that issue. So much had happened in his conversation with Bretton and, worse yet, with a captive who seemed less like a captive and more like a companion, a woman who also happened to be de Velt’s daughter. As Rod had told Bretton, strange forces were at work around the man. Pouring himself another cup of wine, Rod sighed heavily.

“I suppose it is best to start from the beginning,” he said, looking at Christopher. “Did you tell Lord de Velt about the de Llion connection?”

Christopher nodded his head. “I did,” he said quietly. “He knows that you are connected to the de Llion name but he also knows we do not have confirmation that the mercenary is, in fact, your cousin.”

Rod wriggled his eyebrows ironically as he took a long swallow of wine. “We have confirmation now,” he said, looking between Christopher and Jax. He finally settled on Jax. “My lord, the name the mercenary commander gave was Bretton de Llion. Lord de Lohr came into this information and knew that my family has connections with the de Llion family. In fact, my grandfather, whom I serve at Bronllys Castle, is a de Llion. When you conquered Four Crosses Castle twenty-five years ago, my grandfather’s son, my mother’s brother, was the garrison commander. He was killed in the siege along with his wife and two children, or so we thought. But then this mercenary commander surfaced, emulating your exact path of destruction along the Marches, and gave his name as Bretton de Llion. Bretton de Llion was the son of the garrison commander, whom we believed to be dead. He is my cousin.”

Jax bobbed his head in understanding. “De Lohr told me all of this,” he said. “You say you have confirmation that it is, in fact, your cousin?”

Rod nodded, facing the two lords. “After Lord de Lohr told me of the alleged identity of the mercenary commander, I returned to Bronllys to tell my grandfather of our conversation,” he said. Then, he shook his head sadly. “My grandfather refused to accept that Bretton had somehow survived Lord de Velt’s siege and would not speak of the possibility, but for my part, my curiosity grew. I was determined to know if Bretton, in fact, was alive and tearing up the Marches, so I sent a missive to Cloryn Castle and asked Bretton to meet me in Newtown if he was, indeed, Bretton de Llion, son of Morgan. I wanted to know if my cousin was still alive. I can confirm that he is.”

Christopher’s eyebrows lifted. “Then it
is
your cousin?” he said, somewhat stunned. “And you met with him?”

Rod nodded and drained the rest of his wine. “I met with him,” he confirmed. “There is no mistaking he is a de Llion. He looks just like the rest of the family. But it is much worse than we could have ever expected, for the man is nothing as I had hoped. He was not glad to see me. He is very bitter towards my grandfather for not trying to find him after Four Crosses was taken. But that bitterness aside, he holds a massive sense of vengeance against Lord de Velt and blames the man for ruining his life, so much so that the burned Alberbury Priory to abducted Lady Allaston de Velt. He plans to use her to lure Lord de Velt to his death, but you already know that. Here is where it becomes complicated – Lady Allaston de Velt was with him when he came to Newtown. I gave her the opportunity to escape and she would not take it. She says that she cannot leave Bretton because if she does, he will stop at nothing to kill her father, and she is quite convinced she can talk him out of it if she stays by his side. Lord de Velt, she stays with him willingly to protect you.”

Jax just stared at him, those dual-colored eyes wracked with emotion.  After an eternal moment of staring at Rod, digesting what he had been told, Jax let out a hissing sigh and rolled his head back. He ended up staring at the ceiling with the expression of a man who could hardly believe what he’d just been told.

“Allie,” he whispered. “God’s Bones, is it true? Is she really doing such a thing?”

Rod cast a long glance at Christopher, who seemed equally concerned. As Jax reflected on the state of his foolish, brave daughter, Christopher addressed Rod.

“Did she seem in good health?” he asked. “Good spirits?”

Rod nodded.  “She was healthy and whole,” he said. “But when I challenged Bretton to a fight to allow her to escape, she refused to flee.”

Jax was still staring up at the ceiling, now shaking his head in disbelief. “She was always a head-strong, foolish girl,” he muttered, eventually looking at Christopher and Rod. “But she is much like her mother in that she is extraordinarily brave and stubborn. If she thinks she can talk de Llion out of his vengeance, then she will not give up. She will be like a dog with a bone in her persistence.”