Osbert stood, hand on hips. “Well, now, he told us all about those days. Admitted he served the wrong brother. But the king took Lord Paxton’s oath of allegiance later, just like he took from Prince John. And John’s fought by Richard’s side faithfully, hasn’t he?”
Had he? Giles, himself, often wondered.
“The past don’t matter,” Osbert insisted. “Lord Paxton had the king’s own seal. I don’t doubt his words, and so I told him. Now I put it to all of you. We need to gather our men. I’ve already started.”
That might explain the added soldiers at Langley; it didn’t explain how Osbert amassed fighters so quickly.
Something else didn’t make sense. “This isn’t border land,” Giles spoke at last. “Wouldn’t lords to the north be the logical line of defense?”
Osbert answered, not meeting Giles’ eyes. “Lord Paxton will take the matter to them as he goes, but he needs reinforcements. He stopped here first because my dear wife—my first wife—was his mother’s cousin. He knew he could count on family support.”
“You are related to this king’s envoy?” Giles asked.
“Not that it makes a particle of difference to you. Good family, my wife’s. I was lucky to have her. Damned shame she couldn’t give me an heir.” Osbert seemed oblivious that his current bride’s brother stood beside him.
Garley ignored the slight. He slapped his hand on the table. “Well, I don’t see a problem. Who among us will refuse a direct order from the king?”
Lips pursed, Giles eased back and waited. The murmured assents settled it.
“Good.” Osbert had regained his bluffness. “I’ll send a message, let him know we’ll be ready for trouble when it comes.”
He didn’t say “if,” but “when.” Somebody seemed damned sure of Scotland’s bad intentions in the face of a supposed peace offer.
Henry remained seated, his eyes fixed on the table, as the others rose. Servants moved about to set up for the newcomers’ meal. Giles waited.
Finally, Henry lifted his gaze, eyes shuttered. He nodded and rose. “Time to check on my sister. Will you see if the horses are settled in?”
Giles recognized the order to meet in the stables. From what he’d observed during the meeting, Lord Henry and this
king’s man
had a history. Interesting, but not enough to lure him into remaining.
In the stables, Nuit was in his former stall at the back, munching hay. The few lads tending other mounts ignored Giles. Except for one familiar, dirty face which popped out of a corner. Davy.
“Is it true you kill ever’one when a town don’t surrender?” Awe tinged the boy’s voice. “Even women and children?”
“Especially children.” Giles’ reply was a low grumble. “Inquisitive boys who beat horses.”
The remark was met by a snort. “I didn’t touch your devil ’orse, Silverhawk. It was m’brother.”
“What did you call me?”
The boy hopped back at the menacing whisper, wide-eyed, as if he’d stepped on a forest adder.
“That’s what they been callin’ you. It’s your name, aren’t it? The famous Silverhawk, who can spot a’ enemy a mile away and bring ’im down in one swoop. Nobody escapes.” Davy demonstrated with a swing of his fist, as if he relished the idea.
“Bloodthirsty brat.”
“I am.” The boy strutted. “That’s what Lord Osbert always says. I can stand the sight a’ lots a’ blood. When Sir Karl slashed ’is arm and bled all over everywhere, I ’elped old Maggie wrap it. And I’m not afeard a’ nothin’.”
He crept closer as he told the tale, ending at Giles’ side. “You don’t have a page or a squire or nobody.” His voice notched up a note in excitement. “I could be your squire. The blood wouldn’t scare me at all.”
Giles considered for a moment, then couldn’t resist. “I could use someone to clean my bloody gear,” he allowed. “As my squire, your first duty is to care for my horses.”
Davy peered at Giles, the boy’s eyes rounded like moons. “You mean—’im, too?” He jerked his head at Nuit, who obligingly “thonked” a hoof on the floor and blew saliva-wet hay from his lips.
“Of course. The two of you will learn to get along. It’s my destrier back in Normandy I’m concerned about. He once took a finger off a page who tried to feed him an apple.”
Even in the dimness, Giles could see the boy pale. Unfortunately the story was true, although it was just the tip of the left forefinger. A rough lesson, but at least the boy learned not to tease a war horse.
“If you don’t like horses, why do you work here?”
Davy screwed up his mouth and wrinkled his nose. “English ’orses are nicer. I’m not afeard a’ them.”
“Then you’d best apply to an English knight.”
“Nobody around here does anythin’. They’re not famous. I’m goin’ to be famous when I’m grown. I could learn from you.”
“Davy! To work!” At the stable master’s shout, the youth scurried on his way. Giles stared after him in bemusement. Learn from him. No one had ever wanted to learn from Giles of Cambrai. It was something a son did, learn from a father.
He would never have a son. He always took care when he released his seed, so it would not take root, to grow alone and unwanted. A boy should never face such a fate. Better than anyone, he knew that.
Inside Nuit’s stall, he brushed his hand along the animal’s side. On one knee, he checked the hooves. He didn’t realize Henry had arrived until he heard voices. The words were faint, but he made them out.
“Ride to Windom and tell Lord Roark what I’ve said, then get home and warn Sir Rance to ready the men. We can’t be sure what’s in store.”
Why would Henry send off such a message? Nothing threatened yet. He started to rise and identify himself, when a woman’s voice joined the others.
“What is it, brother? Why did you send for me?”
“Evie, we may have to leave early.”
“But—”
“We’ll stay for the wedding tomorrow, then we go.”
“Why?” Lady Evelynn’s voice lowered, tensed. “What has happened?”
“The mysterious messenger from the king was Lord Paxton.”
“Oh, dear heaven. Not Roark and Alyss’s Paxton? Is he still here?”
“That’s who left earlier.”
“He doesn’t serve the king?” She sounded incredulous. “How could that be?”
“It couldn’t. Anyone who knew the scoundrel would know better. He will always serve John. I’ll wager his mission is to create trouble for Richard, not prevent it.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of running feet. “Silverhawk?” The question preceded the boy.
“Oh. Sorry, m’lord. I was lookin’ for the Silverhawk. He was right ’ere, visitin’ ’is ’orse.”
“Well, lad, you can see he’s gone now. You’d best get back to your duties.”
“Yes, sir.” The sound of steps faded before the stall door opened. A hoof still propped on his knee, Giles looked up at Henry and lifted his brows. Lady Evie peered around her brother.
No one spoke. Giles placed the hoof on the floor and rose.
“You wanted to talk to me?” He looked Henry in the eye.
“Were you satisfied at what you heard?” Henry’s voice was low but hard.
“What reason would I have to interrupt? Surely you knew I was here. Your orders, after all.” Giles stepped to the back wall, his arms hanging loosely, his fingers flexing.
Henry’s gaze didn’t move from him. “Evie, go back to the hall.”
“I have as much right as you to know what that hound of hell is up to.” The lady didn’t sound at all intimidated by her brother’s threatening tone.
Giles smoothly interceded. “I’ve been called many things before, but never that.”
“Oh!” she sputtered. “I meant—”
Never taking his gaze from Giles, Henry said, “He knows what you meant. But leave us to talk. I’ll fill you in later.”
“Oh, all right.” She sighed. “I never have any adventure.”
Henry seemed disarmed. “My dear, you’ve had enough ‘adventure’ to last a gentle woman two lifetimes.” He kissed her forehead. “Go on, now.”
Giles watched the touching scene with a twist of his lips. “I detect a story there,” he said as Henry turned back.
“Another time.” Henry considered him for a moment, then sighed as if reaching a decision. “Do you have more information about this supposed threat to England?”
Giles leaned against the wall, accepted the snub. Other families’ drama wasn’t his job. “Nothing you don’t already know. Why don’t you tell me about this Lord Paxton? You appear to know him.”
Henry looked away. Silence stretched. Perhaps the lord didn’t entirely trust him.
Why should he? I’m just the messenger.
After a moment, the other man shot him a look then nodded toward the door. “Let’s walk.”
Although dark enveloped the curtain wall, the bailey remained busy, and a clatter rose from the training field. The two made their way toward the spot where a pair of knights showed off in the guise of practice in defiance of the approaching night. Lowering his voice, Henry outlined his family’s history with Lord Paxton.
“The day after my sister, Alyss, and her husband, Roark, were married, Paxton appeared at Chauvere with an order from Prince John to wed Alyss. When he discovered he’d been thwarted, he met King Richard in Nottingham. This was three years ago, right after the king’s ransom had been delivered, and he’d been released. You’re from Normandy; you may not know Prince John had consolidated power in England.
“He was banished, but a few of his castles held out. Nottingham was one of the last. The king, himself, journeyed here to command the surrender, then stayed on for a Council. Paxton accused my brother-in-law of treason. Fortunately, I was able to provide evidence that set him free. Paxton was stripped of his land and title, and he disappeared from England.”
Giles grimaced. “The king must have given him another chance.” From Henry’s silence, Giles guessed his words merely glossed the story.
Instead of explaining more, Henry asked, “Do you return to Normandy now?” He uncrossed his arms and straightened. “But no, you had something else to attend to in England, you said. Where will that take you?”
Henry didn’t give up easily. But neither did he. Giles blew out a breath. If Richard wanted him to remain in England, why hadn’t the king told him? He’d served the man for years, held royal trust second only to Mercadier in that mercenary band.
Damn. He hated being manipulated, even by his sworn liege. He had volunteered for this mission for one reason only—revenge. Yet he did owe duty, allegiance to Richard, if not to England.
Giles fisted and unfisted his hands. A lifetime of searching ended right here. Why should he turn his back on this chance at revenge? He’d settle the old score tonight. And afterward, if he decided to track down the traitor, he’d do so alone. Except for his men who knew how he thought, how he worked, he trusted only himself.
Right now, he must figure a way to approach Osbert. The number of soldiers gathered at Langley might present a problem, but he was not about to let his chance slip by. The wrong done so long ago would be avenged. A flick of a dagger would settle the score. Giles could do it undetected and be on his way before anyone knew the old man was dead.
He could.
He wouldn’t.
He wanted Osbert to know why. He wanted the arrogant bastard to look him in the eyes once more and realize who killed him.
“What are you planning?” Henry’s voice interrupted Giles’ thoughts. “If it can be postponed, we could use your help to stop this traitor.”
“Are you sure you can trust me?”
“Not entirely.” At least Henry was honest. “Richard trusted you. I suppose that’s something.”
“Richard trusts the man I serve.”
“And that man trusts you.”
Giles’ soft “huh” was sarcastic. “You saw how the people reacted earlier. I’m a murderer. Can you have confidence in an outlaw?”
Henry’s bark of laughter surprised him. “They fear tales they hear from soldiers who’ve returned from the war. I know how those stories can be exaggerated. There was a time I did it myself, when I was younger.”
Giles shook his head. “They’re true. I have murdered. Every village, every town, every castle the war crushes, people have died who should not.”
“So, the boy was right?”
Giles’ head jerked around. Henry had heard that conversation? “No. Never women and children.” In that brief moment, scenes from the past swept through his mind. His jaw flexed.
“I’ve heard of Silverhawk,” Henry reminded. “I know the rules you impose on your men.”
“Then you know the penalty for breaking them. I’ve enforced those rules. Doesn’t that make me a murderer?”
“It makes you a commander to be respected. And feared.”
Giles sighed, slanted a glance at the other man. “What do you want of me?”
“I have met Scotland’s king,” Henry said. “I know some of the lords who usually join him at court, so it won’t seem suspicious when I suddenly appear. If I leave tomorrow, I can make it to Scotland almost as quickly as Paxton can. With luck he’ll stop along the way, and I’ll be there before him.”
“Why do you need my help? You’ve got it all planned.”
Anger flashed across Henry’s face again. “We can’t be certain of
his
plan. Someone should follow his party from here. If he keeps to the main road, he can be tracked easily. But there’s a chance he will visit other lords. I don’t think Langley knows the man’s intentions, or we might pry the details from him.”