Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

E lizaveta could hardly believe what she was seeing.

Suddenly, Lady de Witt was in their midst and aiming a very large knife straight at her. The woman, who had been so friendly just a few seconds earlier, had an expression of utter hatred on her face. It was quite puzzling and quite shocking. As Elizaveta and Daniella jumped up from the table, Lady de Witt deliberately stalked them.

“Lady de Witt!” Elizaveta exclaimed as Daniella shrieked beside her. “What on earth are you doing?”

Lady de Witt followed them as the women moved around the table, trying to close the distance between her enormous knife and her prey.

“I am doing what should have been done in years past,” Lady de Witt hissed, not sounding at all like her formerly friendly self. “The House of du Reims should have been destroyed long ago but no one has been able to do it. Now it is my chance. You came right to me and now it is my chance!”

Elizaveta had a sinking feeling, struggling against panic. “Your chance for what?”

Lady de Witt hardly seemed like the same person they had come to know. She had a wild look in her eye as she lifted the knife.

“To kill you,” she said simply.

In that simply stated explanation, Elizaveta could instantly see that Lady de Witt was after her and not after Daniella. She hissed at her sister-in-law to get away, to run to the door, but Daniella refused to budge and Elizaveta couldn’t very well argue with her and keep an eye on that gigantic knife at the same time. Therefore, it was a very odd dance the women choreographed around the well-scrubbed feasting table.

“Are you mad?” Daniella demanded. “Her husband is outside! He will kill you before you can carry out your terrible intentions!”

Lady de Witt shook her head slowly. “The gate to the room is locked,” she said frankly. “I have the only key. He cannot get in. He will stand at that gate and watch his wife die.”

Terror tore through Elizaveta but she refused to show it. She knew she had to think clearly if there was any hope of salvaging this situation. Heart racing, she continued to back away from the knife that was growing progressively larger in her opinion.

“But why do you want to kill me?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t tremble. “Why would you do such a thing? Put the knife down and let us speak calmly. Let me hear what it is I have done to you that you should want to kill me. I have never even met you, Julia. Why should you want to do this?”

Lady de Witt faltered slightly. “Because your family stole East Anglia from my family,” she said, watching the confusion ripple across Elizaveta’s face. “I was born a de Mandeville, Lady de Winter. De Witt is my married name. I know all about what your family has done to mine. I know what justice I must seek.”

She’s a de Mandeville! With that information, it was a struggle for Elizaveta to stay on an even keel. “A de Mandeville,” she gasped; she couldn’t help it. “But… but I personally have no quarrel with you. The feud you speak of is decades old, my lady. It does not matter to you and me, as civilized women.”

Lady de Witt’s nostrils flared in a disturbing gesture. “It matters a great deal,” she snarled. “You have everything that should belong to me. My entire life has been spent with the knowledge that you have what is mine. When my husband and I received the missive that Drake de Winter had been gifted with the East Anglia heiress and was coming to Spexhall to assume command, it was a gift from God. Finally! The East Anglia heiress right in my midst! Watcyn and I knew what we had to do to right the wrongs against my family. Your husband was a fool to come here; my husband will kill him. He is probably already dead!”

Shockingly, a great deal was making sense now, but Elizaveta wasn’t particularly concerned about herself at the moment. The thought of Drake’s death shot through her like a lightning bolt. She was seized with terror and anger and grief, everything she could possibly feel. More than her own death, she feared losing Drake and it was an astonishing realization. She had never considered anyone over her own well-being, at least not like this. She was terrified for her husband’s life. Enraged, she came to a halt at the end of the table with Lady de Witt only a few feet away.

“You are mad!” she growled. “Edward is sending men to Spexhall who will be here in a few days. What do you think they will say when Drake is not here?”

Lady de Witt was confident. “We will tell them that we have not seen you,” she said. “It is a simple thing, truly. Your bodies will be long gone by then. There will be no trace.”

So she had it all planned out. Outrage seemed to be outweighing Elizaveta’s fear in the face of such utter madness. “How could you think to kill people who have nothing to do with your imagined grudges and insane fantasies?” she demanded. “How do you know that it is not your husband who is dead right now? My husband is a de Winter, a much-decorated knight who serves directly under Edward. Your husband is nothing against him!”

Lady de Witt’s lip flickered with a snarl and her pale face went ashen. “We shall see, East Anglia,” she said. “After I kill you, I shall send your body back to my father and he shall rejoice in your death. With you dead, East Anglia will become his. The House of de Mandeville will be prestigious once again!”

Elizaveta’s fury had the best of her; fury and a strong sense of self-preservation. She knew that Lady de Witt meant everything she said; therefore, Elizaveta knew she had to defend herself. Shoving Daniella aside, she ran for the hearth where a heavy, sharp poker and a shovel were leaning against the wall. Picking up the poker with both hands, she rushed at Lady de Witt, swinging the poker wildly.

The fight for her life began.

Lady de Witt was caught off guard by the weapon that was longer, stronger, and heavier than the knife she carried. Within the first few swings, Elizaveta managed to knock the knife out of the woman’s hand and Daniella, spurred by the battle for their very lives, rushed forward to pick it up. She managed to grab it and toss it away as Elizaveta began to beat Lady de Witt on the head and shoulders with her fire poker.

The tables had turned. As Lady de Witt screamed and tried to protect herself, Daniella ran for the heavy iron shovel near the hearth and, together with Elizaveta, beat Lady de Witt furiously until the woman was unconscious. Even then, Elizaveta pummeled her, terrified the woman would rise up again, but Daniella finally put out a hand to stop her frenzied attack.

“Elizaveta!” she gasped. “She cannot get up! She cannot hurt you now!”

Elizaveta heard Daniella’s words but she was still in a world of panic. She crowned Lady de Witt on the head twice more with the iron poker before coming to a halt. Even then, she wielded the poker like a club as if daring Lady de Witt to rise again.

“Where is the knife?” she asked breathlessly.

Daniella looked around the room in a panic, finally spying the knife over near the stairs that led to the lower floor. She rushed to grab the weapon.

“I have it,” she told Elizaveta, holding the knife up like a trophy. “But what about the servant girl in the kitchen below? What if she tries to kill us, too?”

Elizaveta was trembling with fear. She didn’t trust anyone at this point and especially a servant who had closely served Lady de Witt. Wielding the poker defensively, she waved Daniella with her.

“Let us find that woman,” she said. “I’ll not worry about someone else charging me with a knife.”

Daniella was fearful, and timid somewhat, but she complied. With her shovel in one hand and the knife in the other, she followed Elizaveta down into the kitchen where the servant woman, not surprisingly, was cowering in a corner of the kitchen, having heard the screaming from the floor above her head. It didn’t appear as if the servant had any intention of picking up where her mistress had failed, but Elizaveta would take no chances.

The young girl with brown teeth was terrified as Elizaveta forced her to sit and had Daniella tie the girl up with big strips of hemp that was used to rack up meat and hang it from the ceiling. By the time Daniella was finished, the servant girl had no chance of escaping, wound up in hemp that had been tightly tied behind her back.

With the servant neutralized, Elizaveta and Daniella made their way back up to the floor above where Lady de Witt was still laying in an unconscious heap. For a moment, Elizaveta and Daniella paused to look at the woman, determining what to do next.

“We must get out of here,” Elizaveta finally said, turning the poker on Lady de Witt and poking around in her apron. “Find the key to the gate, Daniella. She said she had the only key and it must be on her somewhere. We must make haste from this room.”

Handing the knife over to Elizaveta, Daniella set the shovel aside, dropped to her knees next to Lady de Witt’s unconscious form, and rummaged through her apron pockets, finally coming up with several old, iron keys strung upon a small rope. As Elizaveta stood guard over Lady de Witt, Daniella rushed to the locked iron door and tried several keys before coming to the one that would open it.

“The gate is open!” Daniella said with relief. “But what of Lady de Witt? Do we simply leave her here?”

Elizaveta nodded. “We will lock her and her servant in,” she said. “They can stay here and rot for all I care.”

Leaving Lady de Witt in a pile on the floor, Elizaveta took the poker, the knife, the iron shovel, and the keys and quickly left the room, locking it behind her. Then, and only then, did Elizaveta and Daniella breathe some sighs of relief. Their attacker was caged, the threat against their lives were over for the moment, and there was a great deal of comfort in that. In fact, Elizaveta nearly collapsed with it.

“God’s Bones,” she gasped, looking at Daniella as the woman was slumped against the wall. “I cannot believe what just happened. Did that woman really just try to kill me?”

Daniella nodded, her face pale and her lips quivering. “She did,” she said. “Sweet Jesus, she did! What did she mean about the de Mandevilles and East Anglia and why she would send your body back to her father? It was pure madness!”

Elizaveta nodded, handing Daniella the iron shovel so the woman could keep it as a weapon if needed. “Many years ago, my ancestor killed a de Mandeville ancestor and inherited the Earldom of East Anglia because of it,” she said, still breathless. “The de Mandevilles have been trying to kill us ever since. But who knew that there was a de Mandeville here at Spexhall? They live in Suffolk, of course, but they have been known to keep to themselves. I simply cannot believe one was here at Spexhall, waiting for me to fall into her trap. I must find Drake immediately! We must leave!”

Daniella didn’t argue with her; she didn’t much like this place, either. Elizaveta ran though the stairwell room and out into the entry where the big, iron door was cracked open. She yanked at it with Daniella’s help, pulling the door open enough to slip through it only to come face to face with a major battle in the bailey.

Swords and fists were flying as Drake’s men did battle against de Witt’s significantly smaller forces. Blood was already being spilled and there were dead and dying men littering the ground. Shocked and terrified, Elizaveta and Daniella shoved the door closed and Daniella fumbled with the keys until she found the one that locked the heavy entry door. Together, they moved back through the entry room and into the room beyond that had the table, the big hearth, and the spiral stairwell. They peered through the locked grate that sealed up the room where Lady de Witt still lay on the floor. The woman hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Hurry,” Daniella urged. “Let us lock this door and head upstairs where we can lock ourselves in until this madness is over.”

She started to run up the stairs but realized that Elizaveta wasn’t following. She was still staring at Lady de Witt.

“Elizaveta?” Daniella called to her, softly and urgently. “Hurry and lock the other gate. Let us go to safety.”

Elizaveta heard her, but still, she didn’t move. Her focus remained on Lady de Witt.

“What safety is there?” she asked Daniella. “We will lock ourselves in a room with no food and no water. We could easily starve to death should de Witt somehow emerge victorious. Nay, we must stop this battle, Daniella. We must stop it and we must be the victors. I think I know how.”

Daniella came off the stairs, her expression torn between fear and curiosity. “How?”

Elizaveta turned to look at her. She didn’t say anything for a moment and that lack of an instant response terrified Daniella. Having led a rather protected life as a de la Rosa female, Daniella had never been exposed to any manner of conflict and she’d certainly never been exposed to someone trying to kill her. But she had the innate de la Rosa instinct for survival, something that was bred into the very fabric of their family, so she was more than willing to listen to Elizaveta’s plan once the woman started talking.

Soon enough, she knew what they were in for.

*

Even though they were a larger force, the surprise attack against Drake’s forces had initially put them at a disadvantage. Because de Witt’s men were heavily armed, Drake lost six men right away to axes and swords, but very quickly, Drake’s men gained their weapons when they realized that their hosts were, in fact, trying to kill them. When that awareness dawned, the real fight began.

Drake, Cortez, Devon, and James plunged into the battle with daggers and small weapons only at the onset. Their broadswords and bigger weapons were in their personal possessions, which were with the provisions wagons for safe keeping as Drake’s men set up the shelters. At the point of them entering the fray, it was hand-to-hand combat in the worst way, men trying to stab or kick or punch each other, each man trying to assert dominance over the other.

Drake plowed into the group, grabbing de Witt’s men by the hair, pulling heads back to slit throats with the only weapon he had, a small dagger, until he could get to Lespada , buried in its scabbard and wrapped up in his rain cloak. Even so, his big fists and razor-sharp dagger did a great deal of damage as he pushed his way through the group, and he wasn’t halfway to his destination against the south wall when he realized that he literally had blood all over him. It covered his hands, splashed on his mail, and smeared up onto his neck where the ends of his hair had been wetted with blood and then it had brushed upon his skin like some macabre painting.

But the blood, the death, didn’t matter because Drake wasn’t one to overanalyze an event. He didn’t particularly worry about what was happening, or why; he only thought about what needed to be done in order that he should emerge alive and victorious. That was his mindset in battle. After retrieving Lespada , his usual concern would have been to find de Witt and kill the man for his treachery, but this battle was different– he had Elizaveta to worry over now and it was a struggle not to allow that panic for her safety to overwhelm him. He couldn’t be sure that the fight was only outside the castle; for all he knew, his wife was in danger on the inside of the castle and that was where his thoughts were focused. He had to get into the keep, and to Elizaveta, as if nothing else in the world mattered to him. He feared for her safety above his own.

But it wasn’t such an easy task to retrieve Lespada . There was a good deal of nasty fighting going on even though Drake’s men clearly outnumbered de Witt’s men. It seemed that they simply didn’t want to be subdued, so it was a bit of a struggle. At one point, Drake saw Cortez engaged in a vicious swordfight with de Witt but he couldn’t pause to watch it. He finally reached his possessions, tucked into the back of a provisions wagon, and he unsheathed the mighty de Winter weapon that had been in his family for at least one hundred and fifty years, and probably more. The steel had been worked and reworked many times to repair it by the same family of smithies that had served the House of de Winter since the family had first come to England during The Conquest. Therefore, steel that had been worked and re-worked, forged more solidly every time, was so sharp and so strong that it could cut through a human body as easily as knife through butter. Lespada was a weapon to be reckoned with.

Drake took a moment to get a good grip on the hilt of his family’s sword. The hilt was big and heavy, originally a rather simple hilt, but over the decades, the eldest sons who had inherited it had added their own marks to the hilt, making it heavier, and a bit more elaborate, with more layers of steel. Drake’s grandfather, Grayson de Winter, had been the first to add a jewel to it and there was a massive sapphire at the very end of the pommel. Drake’s father, Davyss, had then added a massive ruby to one side of the grip and then Drake had added an emerald the size of a quail’s egg to the other side of the grip. Now, Lespada bore jewels, making it quite a masterpiece of sword crafting. But no matter how bejeweled it became, it was still a deadly piece of equipment which Drake was about to prove.

Lespada arched into the morning light, slicing through men and dominating any sword it happened to come into contact with. Being that it was over three feet long, it was hard to miss as Drake used it to remove anyone who stood between him and the keep. He was nearly through the writhing mass of men, which was starting to die down somewhat as his men began to restore order, when one of de Witt’s men undercut him with a dagger and sliced his chin and jaw near his left ear.

Furious, Drake dispatched the man, bleeding all over himself as he did so. He put his hand to the gash, feeling that it wasn’t too terribly deep, but he knew from experience that anything on the face or head would bleed profusely. As he held his hand against the gash in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding and headed for the iron door of the keep, a cry from above caught his attention. In fact, it caught everyone’s attention and when Drake looked up, he could see why.

A woman he didn’t recognize was hanging out of lancet windows overlooking the bailey. He could see her head and most of her torso and as he watched, Elizaveta stuck her head out of the window as well. He was gravely concerned to see his wife but that concern was swept with shock when Elizaveta put a very large knife to the woman’s neck. The woman howled and began weeping hysterically.

“Do you hear me?” Elizaveta bellowed in a tone Drake had never heard from a woman before. It was like a battle command. “De Witt, you will call your men off or I will kill your wife just as she tried to kill me and throw her dead body into the bailey. Do you understand me? Do it now!”

Drake, and nearly everyone else in the bailey, came to a halt out of sheer disbelief. But for Drake, there was something more to it. He was utterly terrified by what he was seeing but, at the same time, he was utterly awed. He simply couldn’t believe it. He heard a groan behind him, perhaps one of fear, and suddenly Devon was running past him.

“Dannie,” he moaned. “I must get to Dannie!”

Drake reached out and grasped his panicked brother. “Nay!” he commanded softly, putting an arm around Devon before the man could get away. “Wait, Dev… wait. Something is happening. Just… wait….”

Devon was looking up into the window that the women were hanging out of and he could catch a glimpse of his blond wife. It took him a moment to realize that she had the weeping woman by the hair, yanking on it firmly. Then he, too, was struck with disbelief at what was transpiring with the ladies. His sweet and lovely Daniella was being quite aggressive with the screaming woman. Devon’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Behind the brothers, de Witt emerged from the mass of men who were no longer fighting very much. Most of them seemed to be very confused with de Witt’s men looking to him for guidance. When Drake and Devon heard the movement behind them, of de Witt emerging from the fray, they turned to see the man walking up to them with Cortez following him, a broadsword to de Witt’s back.

De Witt was weaponless, bloodied, as his gaze was riveted to the window above where his wife was sobbing buckets of tears. He held up his hands.

“Do not hurt her,” he commanded weakly, as a man often does when grabbing for the last tatters of control in a situation. “I beg you not to hurt her.”

Elizaveta didn’t back down. “Then order your men to stop fighting,” she repeated. Then, her gaze moved to Drake as he stood there with blood all over the left side of his face and down his neck. Something in her face changed then; her jaw tightened and she poked the tip of the knife into Lady de Witt’s flesh, drawing blood. As Lady de Witt screamed in pain, Elizaveta roared with as much anger as she was capable of. “Look at my husband! Look what you have done to him, you brutal fools! I should cut this woman to pieces for what you have done to my husband!”

De Witt threw up his arms in a vain attempt to stop her. “Nay!” he bellowed, his voice cracking. “I beg you not to hurt her! She is unarmed!”

“That makes no difference to me!”

De Witt was trying to run at the keep but Cortez had him by the back of the tunic, preventing him from moving forward. “Please, lady, please ,” he begged. “Tell me what you want of me. Tell me what you want and I shall do it. But do not kill my wife!”

Those were the words Elizaveta had been waiting for. We must stop this battle and I think I know how. She had known, indeed. She had planned on the fact that de Witt would do anything if his wife was in danger. Fortunately, her plan had worked, and Elizaveta considered his words a moment before backing off. Victory, for them, was in sight.

“Then ask my husband how he wishes for you to surrender,” she said. “Ask him now before I lose my patience.”

De Witt was trembling; Drake could see it when he looked at the man, standing several feet away. “Do what she says,” he told de Witt in a low tone. “Tell your men to drop their weapons.”

Shaken, de Witt turned to what was left of his fighting force and gave a curt command to disarm. Hesitantly, and still feeling the surge of battle in their veins, some resisted dropping their weapons while others let them immediately clatter to the ground. When Drake saw that his men were picking up discarded weapons and beginning to corral de Witt’s defeated men, he turned his attention up to Elizaveta.

“His men are surrendering, my lady,” he told her in a steady tone. “Bring your prisoner down here and release her to her husband.”

Elizaveta gazed down on him, her expression flickering with sorrow. “Are you badly injured?” she asked. “What have they done to you?”

He could see how concerned she was and it touched him deeply. He’d had women show concern for him before, but it had never mattered to him. But Elizaveta’s concern greatly mattered. He smiled faintly.

“It is hardly worth mentioning,” he said. “I will heal completely.”

He had hoped those words would ease Elizaveta, but they didn’t. She still had the knife to Lady de Witt’s throat. She took her gaze from Drake, frowning at the men below her, still clearly unhappy in spite of the fact that men were bending to her demands. There was something left in her, some kind of fight that wouldn’t give in so easily. She had been righteously offended, her husband had been injured, and now it was her time to speak. When she did, it was to de Witt.

“You fool,” she snarled at the man. “So this is how you conduct yourself? The king’s missive told you that my husband had married the East Anglia heiress and your wife, being born a de Mandeville, decided that she would avenge generations of her family by killing me. Is that the idiotic scheme she came up with? To kill me while you ambushed my husband and his men?”

A great deal was suddenly coming clear as to the reasons behind the attack, although none but a few understood the bad blood between du Reims and de Mandeville. Drake, however, was one of those who clearly understood; feeling a good deal of rage in his veins, Drake looked at de Witt.

“Is that what this was all about?” he asked the man. “You had prepared this ambush because your wife is a de Mandeville and she wanted to kill my wife?”

De Witt stood his ground. “Your wife’s family has made my wife’s family miserable for many years,” he said. “My wife’s intention was to avenge her family’s honor, as Lady de Winter has said. But now that is not to be and I want my wife returned to me, unharmed. You may do as you wish with me when we are reunited.”

Drake was truly at a loss, outraged and genuinely baffled by the man’s position. “So you would let your wife murder mine?” he asked, increasingly outraged. “Is that why you allowed that she should go into the keep without escort and find your wife inside?”

“It is.”

Drake had to make a conscious effort to keep his jaw from dropping. “But I serve Edward, as do you,” he pointed out. “We are allies. You would listen to your wife’s foolish prejudices over your duty to your king?”

De Witt simply looked at him; there was no point responding to what they both knew was truth. Drake grunted as realization dawned, looking to Devon and Cortez and seeing his outrage reflected in their eyes. It was a ridiculous and vain situation that had caused this chaos. Drake’s fury bloomed and he handed Lespada to Devon, moved over to where de Witt was standing, and threw a massive fist into de Witt’s jaw.

The tall knight went sailing backwards with the force of the blow, losing three teeth in the process. Overhead, Lady de Witt screamed anew when she saw the blow against her husband.

Twitching with rage, for hitting the man had not satisfied him in any way as he had hoped, Drake turned his attention back up to the window. “Elizaveta,” he commanded in a tone that did not invite refusal. “Bring that woman down here now.”

Elizaveta didn’t hesitate. She and Daniella pulled Lady de Witt out of the window by her hair and shoved the weeping, struggling woman down the spiral stairs and into the chamber with the big hearth and the dirt floor. The gate that led to the small entry room was locked and Elizaveta held the big knife to Lady de Witt’s ribs as Daniella unlocked the gate. Then, they pushed the woman through, all the way out into the bailey where she broke free of them and ran to her husband, who was just starting to pick himself up from the dirt. As the pair huddled together, Drake went immediately to his wife.

His gaze upon her was something Elizaveta couldn’t quite understand; there was fear there but there was also gratitude. Appreciation. She definitely saw appreciation. She also thought she might have seen respect and approval, but barely knowing the man, it was difficult to tell. When he spoke, his voice was oddly hoarse.

“Are you well?” he asked. “She did not hurt you, did she?”

Elizaveta could feel the concern from the man, pouring out over her like warm and viscous honey. It clung to her, embraced her, and made her feel, for the first time in her life, as if someone actually cared for her. It was a new and wonderful feeling, something that took her breath away. She reached out and gently grasped his jaw, turning his head to get a look at the gash on his cheek.

“She did not hurt me,” she said, eyeing the wound as he took his hand off of it to show it to her. “Although it was not for lack of trying. She came after Daniella and me with this very big knife. We were forced to subdue her with a fire poker.”

She stopped inspecting his gash long enough to hold up the knife that was still clutched in her hand. Drake sighed heavily and took the knife from her. He looked at the blade, sharp and heavy, nearly sick thinking of what could have happened had de Witt’s wife been successful. God, he couldn’t even imagine it.

“Praise God that you were able to overcome her,” he said sincerely, shaking himself of the terrible thoughts of what could have been. “I had no hint of what was happening until de Witt and his men attacked my army. I am sorry I was not there to defend you but it seems as if you did not need defending, after all. In fact, from what I just saw, I would say you can hold your own against any man or woman. God help the next fool who threatens you.”

He lightened the moment and Elizaveta grinned modestly. “I simply could not let her harm me or Daniella,” she said, but sobered quickly enough. “You must allow me to tend that gash. It must be sewn.”

He waved her off, unconcerned with the injury to his face. “There will be time for that later,” he said, changing the subject back to her and her heroics. “I have decided that I will be taking you into battle with me in the future.”

She laughed, flattered by his words and successfully diverted from talk of his wound “It is strange,” she said. “I was afraid, that was true, but I was more concerned with making sure I came out of it alive. I was not about to make an easy victim.”

Drake smiled. He wanted to touch her in the worst way but he was covered with gore and didn’t want to drag that nastiness onto her skin. For the moment, all he could do was stand there and admire her from a distance. And he was coming to admire her a great deal.

“Your bravery is impressive,” he said. “Not that I had any doubt, for you have proven yourself a courageous woman since I have known you, but this situation could have been quite deadly. I am proud of your actions, Elizaveta. Quite proud.”

Elizaveta had never heard such praise in her life. No one had ever been proud of her– not her father nor mother nor grandedame , or if they had been, they had never told her. Drake was the first person to ever praise her in such a way and she liked the feeling very much. She felt warm, and fulfilled somehow, and happy. Very happy. Considering what had been going on, it was odd that she should feel joy at this moment but her joy was directly related to Drake’s approval.

“Thank you,” she said, although it was clear she had no idea how to respond. Drake chuckled at her awkwardness and Elizaveta giggled in return, a sweet and awkward moment between them. But she caught sight of Lady de Witt and her husband out of the corner of her eye and her focus shifted to them. Her smile faded. “What do you intend to do with those two?”

Drake turned to see where she was looking, his gaze falling upon Watcyn and his wife as Lady de Witt tried to tend her husband’s swollen mouth. “I suppose that depends on you,” he said, returning his attention to Elizaveta. “Lady de Witt is a de Mandeville by birth. She tried to kill you. She is clearly your enemy. What do you want me to do with her?”

Elizaveta was somewhat surprised he had asked her such a question and it was evident that his decision rested upon hers. She took his query very seriously as she pondered her thoughts on the matter.

“If she is punished, it will only make the situation worse,” she said quietly. “If she is executed, it could be quite bad for my father and for you. The de Mandevilles mostly keep to themselves but they are men we do not want to provoke. It is like poking a beehive; at some point, the bees will come out and they will sting you. I am afraid that if we take any action against her and her husband, it will only make it worse.”

Drake understood her reasoning. Not that he agreed, but he understood. “If we do not take action, it could also appear as weakness,” he said quietly. “I am not attempting to dispute you but simply offer another opinion. Families like the de Mandevilles only understand brutality. Sometimes you must speak in their language.”

Elizaveta considered his words. “Then what would you do?”

Drake turned once more to look at the couple seated on the ground, surrounded by de Winter soldiers. “Execute her for what she tried to do to you,” he said as he turned around to face her once again. “As a husband, I cannot let an attack on my wife go unanswered. Surely you understand that.”

Elizaveta was thinking on how the House of de Mandeville would react to one of their womenfolk being executed. “I understand,” she said softly. “As I said, I fear action such as that will only make matters worse. Already the de Mandevilles hate my family. If Julia is executed… surely they will go mad. None of us will know peace.”

Drake sighed heavily before giving her a wink and turning, heading over to where Cortez was standing several feet away. Cortez had been his commanding officer for a few years and he trusted the man’s judgment implicitly. When he caught Cortez’s attention, he motioned the man over to him. Cortez joined him in a private huddle.

“I fear that my emotions may have affected my judgment in this situation,” he confided to Cortez. “I need your counsel. Lady de Witt tried to murder my wife. My wife fears that if I punish Lady de Witt, that it will only exacerbate the hostilities between the de Mandevilles and the du Reims. Mayhap I should clarify the situation for you; years ago, an ancestor of my wife’s murdered a de Mandeville cousin and inherited the Earldom of East Anglia as a result. There have been hostilities between the families ever since.”

The light of understanding went on in Cortez’s eyes. “Ah,” he said. “Now I comprehend. I was wondering what all of this stemmed from. Now I know. A blood feud.”

“Essentially.”

“Who are the de Mandevilles?”

Drake grunted unhappily. “A family that lives like animals, not far from here,” he said. “They are ruthless and without morals. They are beasts better left alone, which is why Lady de Winter fears provoking them by punishing one of their kin.”

Cortez cocked a dark eyebrow. “People like that only understand violence,” he said. “If Lady de Witt is spared, they will see it as a weakness.”

“That is what I told my wife.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to execute the woman and send her body back to her family and tell them that I will do the same thing to any of them who make a move against me or my family.”

Cortez looked over at Lady de Witt as she tenderly wiped the blood from her husband’s face. “You have no choice,” he said. “That is what must be done. A blood feud will not stand for anything else. There is no mercy in a dynamic such as that. Mercy would be viewed as a failure.”

Drake’s opinion of the situation was confirmed. Terrible as it was, they had no real option in the matter. He sighed knowingly, glancing over at his wife, who was standing alone, watching him. He smiled weakly at her and turned back to Cortez.

“If you will take my wife in hand, I will do what needs to be done,” he said. “Please take her into the keep and do not let her leave. I will join her when I am finished.”

Cortez reached out and grasped his arm. “I will do what needs to be done,” he said. “You take your wife and explain to her the way of things.”

Drake shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he replied. “Although I appreciate your offer, this is something I must do. The attack was against my wife and soon enough the de Mandevilles will come after me as the bearer of the title they so badly desire. This punishment and this message must come from me, you understand. I must show my worth to those who would threaten me and my family. If I do not, I will never have peace.”

Cortez understood his reasoning. “What will you tell your wife?”

Drake exhaled slowly, pensively. Then, he turned for Elizaveta. “Come with me,” he said quietly. “You will see.”

Cortez followed the man as they made their way over to Elizaveta, who was gazing up at her husband rather eagerly. Drake forced a smile.

“I must see to the prisoners,” he told her. “I am going to send you into the keep with Cortez as protection. Please feed the man and begin your assessment of our household needs as I see to my business. I will join you as soon as I am able.”

Elizaveta nodded, putting a hand on his sleeve, getting dried blood on her fingers. “What are you going to do?”

Drake was careful in his reply. He didn’t want to lie to her, but for her sake, he didn’t feel as if he could tell her the entire truth. Not knowing the woman very well, he didn’t want to chance damaging their blossoming relationship. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he really didn’t want to take that chance. He was going to do exactly what she had asked him not to do.

“I am going to organize the prisoners, speak with de Witt, and send them all back to Westleton Manor,” he said. It was the truth for the most part. He didn’t say anything about sending de Witt and his wife back alive or dead. “My father says that Westleton is their seat so I will assume that is the place to send them but I will confirm that with de Witt. I will send them back with a message to beware of de Winter and East Anglia properties. One move against me and I will bring the whole of Norfolk down around them. They will consider it their one and only warning.”

Elizaveta was still concerned but seemingly satisfied. “Then I will trust you to do as you see best,” she said to her husband, turning to Cortez. “Will you come inside with me, my lord? It is a very interesting place inside, at least what I saw of it before I was running for my life. There are iron gates everywhere.”

Cortez grinned at her humor. “Actually, I believe I will go with your husband as he completes his tasks,” he said, completely defying Drake in front of his wife and knowing very well that Drake would not argue with him. He turned to see Devon and Daniella standing a few feet away, holding one another, and he pointed to the embracing pair. “I am sure that Lady Daniella and her husband would be more than delighted to accompany you back into the keep. Devon?”

He called out to the twin de Winter brother, waving the man over when Devon lifted his head to look at him. Devon took Daniella by the hand and led her over to where Cortez and Drake and Elizaveta were standing. He looked curiously at Cortez, who answered the man’s unspoken question.

“The ladies will need an escort into the keep,” he told Devon. “Go with them and stay with them while I attend your brother. He has a mess to clean up here and I will assist him. Will you attend the ladies now, please?”

Devon was more than happy to, considering it would mean sticking close to Daniella’s side. He was more concerned for her than he was with his brother’s activities, and he gladly took Elizaveta by the elbow and led her off towards the keep. Elizaveta, however, kept turning around to look at Drake, who kept the same forced smile on his face and even waved at her once as she headed for the rectangular-shaped keep. When she disappeared inside with his brother, Drake’s smile faded. He turned to Cortez, his expression now deadly serious.

“Let us do what needs to be done, then,” he said, his tone low. “Have James separate out the de Witt men, wounded or able, into a group. Any dead will be turned over to the church on the other side of the wall for burial. You and I will take de Witt and his wife to an area that is well away from the keep and do what needs to be done. After that, I will have de Witt’s men take the bodies back to Westleton and let them know that so goes any traitors or aggressors towards East Anglia. Any and all hostility will be met with deadly force. As the future Earl of East Anglia, I must send that message. They must know that I will not make an easy or willing target for their ages-old hatred.”

Cortez concurred. “You have no choice,” he said. “And when this is finished, you must tell Edward what has happened. I am sure he did not know that de Witt’s wife was a de Mandeville when he sent the missive announcing your arrival, but you must let the man know the aggression his missive stirred up. He will want to know all of it.”

“Indeed he will.”

Cortez hesitated a moment. “Drake,” he said. “When the time comes to dispense the punishment, you should allow me to do it. That way, when your wife learns what has happened, your hands are clean.”

Drake looked at him in surprise. “Why would you say such a thing?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “This is my responsibility.”

Cortez shook his head, grasping Drake by the shoulder. “But I have no stake in it,” he said. “If you kill them both… you have led her to believe that are you are not going to kill them. When she finds out you deceived her, it may not go well for you. Are you willing to risk that?”

Drake was afraid of that very same thing but he did not want to voice it to Cortez. “I will have to take that chance,” he said. “These people tried to kill me and my wife. What kind of man would I be to let others punish them in my stead?”

“A wise one because it keeps your hands clean and your emotions out of it.”

Drake didn’t have anything to say to that but he was determined to do what he had to do, for all their sakes. In silence, Drake and Cortez moved to Watcyn de Witt and his wife, separating the couple from the group of battered men and taking them off to the hall where they were hidden from view. Lady de Witt clung to her husband, distraught, as if only now realizing her decision to try and kill Lady de Winter would have dire consequences. It was clear that failure in her quest hadn’t occurred to her.

Lady de Witt cried and begged for their lives, only quieting when Drake set them in a corner of the hall, near the door that led out to the stable yard, and calmly discussed the situation as he saw it. It was a quiet area, and shielded, and Drake lost sight of Cortez as he explained that blood feuds were not particularly healthy to anyone. He discussed that he, as a de Winter, had married into these aggressions and he wasn’t happy about it in the least. Lady de Witt was quick to defend her family’s position and in her fervor, Drake could see, still, that the woman had absolutely no qualms about making the attempt against Elizaveta. Drake was quite certain that, given another chance, she would do it again.

He would not take the risk.

It was an unsettling realization but one that underscored his decision to punish both of them. As Drake listened to de Witt speak on the de Mandevilles of Westleton and how their hatred of the House of du Reims was the basis of their entire existence, Cortez suddenly appeared out of the darkness, behind de Witt and his wife, and moved for the lady first with a very sharp dagger in his hand. He already had the woman in his arms and limp by the time her husband realized what had happened, and he turned on Cortez, forcing Drake to still the man with a dagger to the neck.

As quickly as it started, it was over. Punishment was dealt. Drake stood over the bodies, bleeding out into the hard-packed earth of the hall, before glancing at Cortez.

“I told you I would do this,” he grumbled.

Cortez shook his head. “It would not do for the Earl of East Anglia to have more de Mandeville blood on his hands,” he pointed out. “I told you that.”

“And I told you this was my responsibility,” Drake fired back, now fighting off his irritation. He knew why Cortez had done it; he simply didn’t agree with the man. He pointed to the door that led out to the stables. “Take her and I will take him. Let us remove them to the stables and cover them with straw until we can move them out of here.”

Cortez easily picked up Lady de Witt and carried her out of the door, into the dim stables, as Drake followed behind dragging de Witt, leaving a trail of blood as he went. But the deed was done, distasteful but necessary as it had been, and before the day was out, twenty-seven de Witt soldiers were heading for Westleton with a wagon bearing the bodies of their liege and his wife, and a very strong message for Edmund de Mandeville.

Attempt to cross me again and this is what I will do to your entire family.

By dawn, the de Mandevilles were moving, fully armed, for Spexhall.