Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

D avyss and Devereux heard the entire story.

After leaving Elizaveta in the kitchen yard, Drake found his father and mother in their chamber, joined in grief over Dallan, but he was so overwrought with Elizaveta that everything came bursting out at his parents in a massively emotional display.

It was unlike Drake to show his emotions to anyone, at least not on the level he was exhibiting, and less than a minute into his hysterical speech, both Devereux and Davyss had pushed him down into a chair and his mother was pouring wine down his throat. Pushing aside their own sorrow over Dallan for the moment, they were convinced it had been too much for Drake and that the man, so strong and stoic, was having a breakdown.

But it was a shocking and disappointing story Drake was telling. The vengeful grandmother forcing her granddaughter to do her bidding under threat of assassins. Davyss listened to the entire story as Drake told it with great regret and sorrow whilst Devereux, who had grown close to Elizaveta and loved her, sat heavily on the bed and hung her head. When all was said and done, Drake sat forward in his chair, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed. Davyss simply put his hands on his son’s head and let the man weep.

He’d earned it.

Devereux watched her eldest boy, the strength of the de Winter house, as he folded under the pressure of his brother’s death and his wife’s betrayal. The man could face a million Scots in battle and never show a crack in his powerful facade, but when the emotions of the situation cut too deep, like the death of Dallan and Elizaveta’s treachery, he didn’t have a weapon strong enough to fend it off. He simply didn’t know how to deal with it.

Truth was, Devereux was numb at the moment about Dallan. To her, he had only just left for battle and even though she saw him in his casket, the reality of his death hadn’t settled yet. She was still expecting him to return with his brothers so this episode was something of a nightmare, but one which she would not awaken from. Her Dallan was not dead, not in her heart or in her mind yet, and it was, in truth, easier to function if she thought of it that way because she knew that when the reality of his death hit her, she would be useless. She was quite sure that she would never be the same again.

It was, therefore, easier to focus on Drake for the moment, something to distract her from a parent’s worst fear. As long as she could focus solely on Drake and Elizaveta, she could keep from crumbling. Drake needed her help and, she suspected, so did Elizaveta.

The living, at the moment, needed her more than the dead.

She had to be strong, just a while longer.

“Drake,” Devereux said, her voice dull with sorrow. “Drake, you must listen to me. I have spent a good deal of time with Elizaveta since you have been gone and the girl never struck me as being underhanded or treacherous. Quite the opposite; she is loving and warm and kind. The only time she ever spoke of her grandmother, it was a brief reference and nothing more. I remember thinking it was rather odd she should be so cold towards her. Please understand that I am not defending what she did, but I would believe there is truth in what she has told you– mayhap she truly was forced by a vengeful, old woman and mayhap she is truly afraid of what the woman is capable of.”

Drake, after his outburst, was quickly wiping the tears and mucus off his face, embarrassed that he had become so emotional. “Elizaveta is a strong and brave woman,” he said, sniffling. “Mother, you did not see her in the battle of Spexhall. When de Witt’s wife tried to kill her, she turned the tables on the woman and held a knife to her throat. I cannot believe such a woman would be afraid of an aged crone.”

Devereux sighed faintly. “But we are speaking of her grandmother,” she said, trying to be gentle with him. “This is the woman who fed and clothed her, who provided for her. If what you said is true, then Elizaveta has been witness to the cruelty the woman is capable of. Of course she would fear her. She sounds like a terrifying woman.”

Drake sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his dark hair in a weary, agitated gesture. “Then why was she not honest with me about what her grandmother expected of her?” he wanted to know. “Why did she not tell me everything?”

Devereux lifted her eyebrows, somewhat knowingly. “Ask yourself that question,” she said softly. “Ask it and be honest with yourself; if Elizaveta had come to you three or four or six days after your wedding to tell you what she had been instructed to do, how would you have reacted? Would you have sympathized with her? Would you have been shocked by it? Or would you have even believed her? I suspect you may not have taken her seriously. You did not know her well enough, and she did not know you well enough, either. I am not entirely sure that you would have leapt to her defense.”

Drake was looking at his mother seriously. “Are you defending her, then?”

Devereux shook her head. “I told you that I am not,” she said. “But I am saying that I understand her position. I understand why she was afraid to confide in you. The poor woman was trapped between a husband she did not know and a grandmother who had threatened to kill her if she did not do as she was told. What would you have done?”

Drake thought on the situation the way his mother had phrased it and realized that he wasn’t entirely sure what he would have done. Put in those terms, he could see that Elizaveta was perhaps trapped, indeed. He was starting to feel pity towards her now. Confused, he refrained from answering the question.

“But she lied to me,” he muttered, standing up from the chair and struggling to compose himself. “She lied to me about everything.”

Devereux watched him pace. “How did she lie to you?”

Drake came to a halt and looked at her. “You are taking her side.”

Again, Devereux shook her head. “I am trying to see the situation from both sides, as should you,” she said. “Tell me how she lied to you.”

Drake could see that his mother was only trying to be fair. She was always supremely fair and he began to feel his confidence waver in his stance against Elizaveta.

“She never told me about her grandmother,” he finally muttered, looking away.

Devereux watched him as he moved towards the lancet windows in the chamber. “She did not lie,” she said. “She simply did not tell you. How else do you think she lied?”

Drake stood at the window, watching the bailey down below through the fog. He couldn’t see much.

“She told me she loved me,” he finally said. “Right now, she told me she loved me.”

Devereux glanced at Davyss, who had thus far remained silent. He had been observing his son, thinking on the situation, and trying to grasp what this day had brought his family. When he heard Drake’s statement and saw his wife glance in his direction, he shook his head.

“She was not lying,” Davyss said. “I have been around enough women to know when they feel something. Elizaveta spoke of you every day, several times a day, and it was always with the greatest respect and adoration. Trust me, lad; I know a woman in love and Elizaveta loves you very much. If she told you, she was not lying.”

Drake was calming now in the presence of his parents and their reasoning conversation. He knew they would never lie to him but he was still deeply hurt and confused. He turned to look at his father.

“It was her information that brought about Dallan’s death,” he said, pain in his voice. “How am I ever supposed to forgive her for that? How can I ever trust her again?”

Davyss drew in a thoughtful breath, moving to where his son stood against the lancet window. Cold, damp air was blowing in, mingling with the warmth of the room. Davyss rubbed his hands together, pensively, before looking at his son.

“Dallan was a knight,” he said. “Death is part of that. Elizaveta sent information that simply hastened his death, but it could have come at any time– that day, a month later, or five years later. It just happened to come for him at that particular time. I have seen enough death to know that hating her for it, or cursing her, will not bring Dallan back. It will not even make you feel satisfaction in the long run. It will only make you bitter and dark. That is not how I wish for you to be, Drake. If you did not love her, you would not be feeling such anguish, so if I were you, I would go and talk to her. Reason this out. Heal what has been wounded. We have enough heartache with Dallan’s death. I do not want to see you torn apart by this because you blame your wife for it.”

Over on the bed, Devereux spoke softly. “Remember something, Drake,” she said. “The world moves for love. It bows down before love in awe, it weeps at the beauty of it. If you truly love her, then allow yourself to be led by love and not resentment. Give the woman you love a second chance to prove she is worthy of it. Love is the only thing that matters in the end.”

Drake listened to his mother, the tears returning to his eyes for reasons he did not understand. “How can you be so forgiving?” he asked. “Dallan died because of what she did.”

Devereux turned to look at him, a faint smile on her lips. “I am forgiving because I am led by love,” she answered. “I am led by my love for Dallan, for the years we had together, and for the beauty of his soul. Hating will not bring him back. It will not restore him to me. It will only damage my memory of what he means to me. Surely, I am shattered by Dallan’s death. My heart is in a million pieces that are bleeding rivers right now, drowning my very soul. But I cannot blame Elizaveta for doing what she had been forced to do. I cannot believe she did it of her own free will, with glee in hoping my son would be killed. Of course she didn’t. It was not she who killed my son, but her vengeful grandmother and the Scots who were aiming for him. Now, your poor wife must live with that horror for the rest of her life, of the betrayal she has been forced in to. That is a terrible thing to have to live with, especially with a husband who does not have the capacity to forgive and let his love for her overcome all.”

Drake had no idea what to do or what to think any longer. His mother was being incredibly forgiving, as was his father, evidently. Was it possible that what they said was right? Did love really have the capacity to overcome all? But he was starting to see their point, that Elizaveta’s grandmother was the villain in all of this. It was she who forced Elizaveta into the terrible position of spying on her husband. Elizaveta was simply a pawn.

Bewildered, depressed, and exhausted, Drake sat heavily on his parents’ bed, having no idea what to say or do. He didn’t want to hate Elizaveta; he loved the woman. What his mother said made perfect sense. He understood that Elizaveta had been trapped by a bitter, old crone who wanted to wreak havoc against the English. Perhaps he was mostly hurt because she didn’t feel as if she could tell him of the position she found herself in. He had thought their blossoming love had been pure and without reservations, so he was mostly hurt to realize his wife, the only woman he had ever loved, had been charged with a secret agenda she had been afraid to tell him about.

Drake sat next to his mother in brooding silence, looking at his hands, as Devereux stood up wearily from the bed. She sensed that the stormy, emotional discussion was coming to a close and now she was concerned with the other half of the equation, Elizaveta. She was quite certain the girl was just as upset as Drake was, and not without reason. Devereux was certain she would need someone to speak to.

“I believe I shall go find Elizaveta,” she said. “Do you know where I may find her?”

Drake was still staring at his hands. “She was by the garden the last time I saw her,” he said as his mother moved for the door. “Bring her inside, please. It is too cold for her out there.”

Devereux smiled faintly at her son’s sense of protection over the wife he was so torn about. If his protective instinct was still intact, then there was hope as far as she was concerned.

“I will,” she said, nodding her head in Drake’s direction as she looked at Davyss. “Will you see to our son, please? And find Devon and Denys. They will need your comfort, too.”

Davyss nodded in understanding, watching his wife quit the chamber. When she was gone and the door shut softly behind her, Davyss remained by the lancet window where his son had once been standing. He was still there because he could clearly see the wagon with Dallan’s casket in the bailey below and realized how his wife had appeared so quickly when Drake and Devon had brought the wagon home. One look from the window of their chamber and she would have seen it, too.

But there was more on Davyss’ mind than Dallan’s death and Elizaveta’s betrayal. There was also the matter of the fall of Thunderbey and the death of Christian du Reims, serious issues that had come to light the previous evening. Davyss seriously wondered if he should burden his son with such news at this brittle time but the truth was that he could not, in good conscience, delay telling him. The man had to know.

Already, the army was mobilizing and missives had been sent out to allies for support. The wheels were in motion and even though Drake had been weighed down with great and terrible things across his broad shoulders as of late, the fact remained that he had to know that he was now the new Earl of East Anglia and his property had fallen to an old enemy. Davyss came away from the window, trying to think on the best way to deliver yet more devastating news to the man.

“Drake,” he said quietly, moving away from the window. “I realize that the past few weeks have brought about more terrible news than you can reasonably bear, but I must ask you to continue to be strong. You are one of the strongest men I know and I am confident in your ability to reason through all things and remain strong. I have a need for you now to call upon that strength. Can you do that, lad?”

Drake lifted his head to look at his father, his dark eyes dull with ache. “What do you mean?”

Davyss stood over his son, preparing what he would say to him. “Sometimes, God gives us all of our burdens at one time,” he said. “It seems as if this is to be one of those times, Drake. Late last night, we received a messenger from Thunderbey Castle. It seems that the House of de Mandeville was somehow able to capture Thunderbey’s keep. Christian du Reims was killed during the fighting and Thunderbey’s army has been attempting to regain the keep for two months. They have been thus far unable to do so and have requested our help to reclaim the castle. Lad, you are now the Earl of East Anglia and Thunderbey is your holding. We must go and get it back for you.”

Drake’s eyes widened at the news, those dark-circled orbs that were so wrought with turmoil. He stood up, unsteadily, gaping at his father in shock.

“Du Reims is dead?” he repeated.

Davyss nodded. “Killed by the House of de Mandeville when they took the keep,” he said. “I have been thinking on the subject since hearing the news; the messenger said that Thunderbey has been under siege for two months, which means the de Mandeville army attacked it about the time they attacked Spexhall. Is it possible the de Mandeville army left Spexhall in defeat and then went straight to Thunderbey to rattle du Reims, where they were successful at capturing the castle? According to the messenger, they were able to take the keep with ease in some manner of covert operation. They did not go at the castle with swords, but rather with stealth.”

Drake was shocked and, momentarily, his mind moved away from Dallan and Elizaveta as the news of Thunderbey sank in. When the situation was without emotion, as the fall of Thunderbey mostly was, he was able to think much more clearly. Certainly the death of Christian du Reims was disturbing, but he truly didn’t know the man, other than he was Elizaveta’s father, so the emotional attachment was minimal.

Surprisingly, the news seemed to be just the distraction he needed. He seemed to gain his composure quickly, focusing on something he knew– battles and sieges. He knew warfare where he was unfamiliar with matters of the heart. Therefore, his demeanor shifted and his manner hardened. It was that strength that Davyss had been speaking of– Drake had it in abundance when it came to something he was familiar with and had been trained for. Now, Drake drew on that strength. It was what he knew.

“Great Bleeding Christ,” he muttered, looking at his father in disbelief. “That barbarian army of mindless savages was able to take Thunderbey and kill du Reims? I find that astonishing. I wonder why, then, they attacked Spexhall head-to-head? There was no stealth to their movements at all.”

Davyss was vastly relieved to see that the news of Thunderbey had not crushed an already-weakened Drake. Instead, it seemed to have given the man some strength, perhaps something to fight for and focus on. In any case, the transformation was encouraging and Davyss murmured a prayer to God for Drake’s change in manner.

“You said that you had executed de Mandeville’s daughter,” Davyss reminded him. “They came to you full of emotion and vengeance. That often makes a man reckless.”

Drake was coming to understand that particular foible very well. “Aye,” he said, a hint of an ironic twinkle in his eye. “Emotional men are often reckless. Nonetheless, I still find the situation astounding. They have held Thunderbey for two months, you say?”

Davyss nodded. “The remainder of Thunderbey’s army have spent two months trying to regain it,” he said. “It is my sense that they were embarrassed they were caught off guard and thought they could regain the keep. But that has not happened, so they are calling for assistance.”

Drake nodded, mulling over what needed to be done. “Have you already sent the messenger back to Thunderbey answering their call?”

Davyss scratched his head, looking to find a chair because he realized he was quite weary at the moment. He wasn’t so concerned about Drake any longer because now the man was behaving more like himself, but the trade-off was that now Davyss, no longer worried over Drake, found himself extremely weary. The events of the day were catching up to him.

“The man was sent back to Thunderbey before dawn with news that we would be at Thunderbey, with reinforcements, in ten days or less,” he said. “This was before you arrived, of course. I was preparing to send you a missive regarding the situation and also asking that you bring back the three thousand men I sent with you to join Edward, but I believe we can make do provided Summerlin and de la Rosa send enough men.”

Drake lifted a dark eyebrow. “The same Summerlin you tried to marry me to?”

“The same.”

“What if he spits in your face for such a request and curses you for your dishonorable son?”

Davyss grunted. “Then I will send my dishonorable son to burn down his house, thrash his crops, take his family captive, and steal his money,” he said. “What else would you expect me to do?”

Drake grinned, the first smile on his lips since Dallan had died. “You are a de Winter,” he said. “I would expect all of that and more. Let us hope Summerlin does not spit in your face because I sincerely do not want to march on Blackstone. I am rather weary of battles, believe it or not.”

Davyss’ smile faded. “I would believe it,” he said, his manner growing serious as both of their thoughts shifted to the obvious when discussing battles– the battle that had resulted in Dallan’s death. “Will you tell me where Dallan’s wound was? How did he meet his death, Drake? I am sorry for you to have to relive this, but I would like to know if you can tell me.”

Drake’s manner sobered dramatically. “He caught a Scot’s axe in the back,” he said quietly. “It severed his spine. He felt no pain, Father. Be assured he felt nothing. He simply drifted away.”

Davyss thought on that, reconciling himself to it. Tears were close to the surface again but he fought them. “And he was not alone?”

That was a very big issue to Davyss because Hugh, his brother, had died alone. He had passed away in his sleep and no one had known anything about it until morning, and Drake had long suspected it was a guilt that Davyss secretly harbored. He was not there for his brother and wanted to make sure that someone was there for Dallan.

“He was not alone,” Drake said softly, telling him what he’d told him before, reassuring the old man that Dallan had been with his brothers when he had passed. “Devon and I held him tightly. He was loved and comforted.”

Davyss allowed himself to linger on that for just a moment longer, indulging a father’s grief, before sniffling away his tears, quickly, and facing Drake.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “And I am sorry to have brought him up again, at least for the moment. We must make plans for Thunderbey, of course. That must be the priority.”

Drake could see that his father was trying to be brave. He shook his head, putting a hand on his father’s shoulder. “We must make plans for Dallan’s burial first,” he said quietly. “I would assume we will bury him at Norwich Cathedral in something great and gaudy. He would like that a great deal.”

Davyss smiled weakly, thinking of Dallan’s loud taste in just about everything. “True enough,” he said. “We will speak of it when your mother returns. She will have some say in the matter. Meanwhile, mayhap you should eat and rest. Surely the past few weeks have not been kind to you. And, at some point, you must tell your wife about her father. Were they close?”

Drake seemed to harden at the mention of Elizaveta and averted his gaze. “She was fond of him but I do not believe they were terribly close,” he said. “I will tell her.”

Davyss cocked his head, trying to meet Drake’s eye but the man wouldn’t look at him. “Should I tell her, lad?”

Drake knew what he meant; feeling as he was, Davyss was afraid that Drake would not be tactful or kind in delivering such news. But Drake shook his head.

“Nay,” he said. “I will tell her. She and I… we have much to speak of, anyway. I will tell her.”

Davyss was satisfied that Drake would at least be tactful about it so he didn’t press. That news was better coming from him, anyway, as Elizaveta’s husband and the new Earl of East Anglia. Davyss reached up and put a hand on Drake’s fingers, still lingering on his shoulder.

“I do not mean to be insensitive to congratulate you on your new title, but I must give you my best wishes,” he said. “You and I are not only father and son, but now we are allies. ’Tis a proud and ancient earldom you bear, lad. I know that you will honor it.”

Drake squeezed his father’s shoulder, moving away towards the windows once more. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about the earldom at the moment. It seemed pale in comparison to Dallan’s death and his issues with Elizaveta. As he stood at the window, he happened to glance down into the bailey where his brother’s body was still in the wagon and caught sight of his mother scurrying about. She wasn’t the scurrying kind and his brow furrowed with curiosity and concern as he watched her move about. It seemed as if she was looking for something.

“Father,” he said. “Mother looks as if she’s lost something. She is running about in the bailey below.”

Davyss stood up, grunting with effort, and moving to the windows to see what Drake was seeing. By the time he reached the window, however, Devereux was gone, having disappeared up the steps into the keep. Davyss shrugged and moved back to his chair.

“She will tell us,” he said. “She is coming into the keep. Meanwhile, I am thinking of going to the cathedral to speak to the priest on arrangements for burying Dallan. I will bury him next to my mother, I think. It is a pity he never came to know her.”

Drake thought back to his earliest childhood memories. “I remember her vaguely,” he said. “I remember she had a very stern voice that was quite frightening.”

Davyss snorted. “You have no idea,” he said. “Everyone in England feared Katharine de Winter. Hell, Simon de Montfort feared the woman and would take orders from her, so I would say that she was the most powerful women in England for a time. I see much of her in your sister, you know. They both have that same commanding presence.”

Drake was about to speak on the subject of his sister, married for one year to a son of the Duke of Exeter, when Devereux suddenly appeared in the doorway. She was flushed and breathless from having run all the way from the bailey.

“Drake,” she gasped. “Where is Elizaveta? She is not in the garden and she is nowhere to be found.”

Drake came away from the window, quickly. The concern in his expression was obvious. “I swear she was in the garden the last I saw her,” he insisted. “Is she not in her chamber?”

“Nay!”

“Did you ask anyone in the bailey if they’d seen her?”

Devereux shook her head. “I called her name all over and she did not answer,” she said. “When you spoke with her last, Drake… you did not… did you touch her in any way?”

Drake was horrified. “Are you asking me if I struck her?” he asked. “Of course I did not. I would never touch the woman in anger, not ever. You know me better than that.”

Devereux waved him off. “I know,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Forgive me for asking. But you surely had terrible words with the woman and she must have run off. There is no telling where she has gone to hide from you. Go find your wife, Drake. Hurry !”

Drake didn’t have to be told twice. He bolted from the chamber, calling to Devon and Denys and even to Dallan before he realized it was a foolish thing to do. He called Dallan purely out of habit, knowing it would be a difficult one to break and feeling the pain of it. He could hear his brothers on the floor above, calling back to him, boots hitting the wooden floor and running. He could hear Daniella’s high-pitched voice as well. Soon, all of the de Winters were running to his aid, all of them running to find Elizaveta.

An entire search of the keep, baileys, outbuildings, moats, and gatehouses did not turn up Elizaveta. They searched all day and went into the town at night with their soldiers, tearing it apart in their search for Elizaveta. By the time morning came there was still no sign of her until a nervous stable boy mentioned seeing a lady take a palfrey from the stables the day before. He said she rode from the castle compound. Then, their worst suspicions were confirmed.

Elizaveta was gone.