Chapter Four #2
The keep was three stories, with one room per floor.
The baron took Braxton into the great hall, well furnished with fresh rushes, fat tapers, and even a tapestry hung high on the wall.
Fine wine, cheese and brown bread were brought out to refresh them.
The baron took a seat on the long scrubbed table, motioning for Braxton to sit opposite him.
“I take it your travels were uneventful,” Wenvoe said.
“We had no trouble, my lord,” Braxton replied.
“Good. Then we may get to business.”
So much for the pleasantries, though in Braxton’s business, he was used to the lack of social graces. Men did not hire him for his oratory skills.
“Your initial missive stated that you had need for my military services, my lord,” Braxton said. “You mentioned trouble with a neighbor. I would hear the entire story and what, exactly, you want of me.”
Wenvoe nodded. “Trouble indeed,” he snorted. “I will tell you my situation and exactly what I need from you. You shall be well paid for your efforts.”
“I always am, my lord.”
Wenvoe lifted a bushy gray eyebrow at the comment but continued along his line of thought. “I have many friends and allies in Cumbria and elsewhere. Not too long ago, my ally, Edward de Romille of Skipton Castle, sent a missive to me that was of particular concern.”
“And what is that?”
“‘Twould seem that someone is trying to cheat me out of what is rightfully mine.”
“If you would be plain, my lord.”
Wenvoe’s round face flushed. “Years ago, a former ally borrowed a great deal of money from me. When he could not pay it back, he promised me the hand of his daughter when she became of age in repayment for this debt. Now I am to discover that the family is soliciting marriage offers for this same daughter when the girl, and the fortress, rightfully belong to me. And I would now take what is mine.”
Braxton suddenly had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He simply could not believe what he was hearing, though in truth, he was not surprised.
The coincidence was nauseating and he knew, before names were even spoken, who the family was.
It was all too close, too coincidental. It was like a bad dream.
“And this family, my lord?” he asked steadily.
“Serroux,” Wenvoe’s expression took on a furious cast. “They are in possession of Erith Castle, to the south about a half day’s ride.
Garber Serroux was a close ally until he took my money and failed to pay it back.
When I discovered his deceit, he promised me his daughter’s hand when she came of age, the fortress and his hereditary title of Baron Kentmere in repayment.
The fool got himself killed before we could strike the written contract, but of no matter; it was a verbal contact and binding. My majordomo is my witness with that.”
Braxton took a long, steadying breath. “How did de Romille come to know that the family was soliciting marriage offers?”
“Because they were sent a missive from Erith. De Romille has two marriageable sons.”
“Yet he knew of Serroux’s contract with you. How?”
“De Romille is married to my cousin. We have oft spoke of the time when Erith would belong to me. It would strike an unbreakable line of allies between Kendal and Skipton. So when he received the solicitation of marriage, naturally, he knew that I would want to know.”
It was a struggle for Braxton not to react. “What do you want me to do?”
Wenvoe’s eyebrows rose. “Lay siege to Erith, of course. I am told that they have no army and no defenses, so it should not be a difficult task for you to take the castle.”
Braxton stared at him. He fought off the urge to laugh at the irony of the situation. “You have over one hundred men here. Why do you not lay siege yourself? Why send for me?”
“I will send some of my men with you, but your vicious tactics are well known. I heard tale from Carlisle that you led a charge against Grassgarth Castle last year that had your men infiltrating a nearly impenetrable fortress within a few hours after the siege began. You lay siege towers on their sides, bridged the moat, burnt the portcullis and entered. Lord Carlisle said it was the most brilliant strike he had ever seen, hence my reason for contacting you. I would pay handsomely for that brilliance, de Nerra.”
Though Braxton had not signed anything, by his sheer presence he was implying that he would take on the task.
That is how his sort usually worked. He wasn’t sure how he could back out of this.
Moreover, Wenvoe had a claim that would hold up.
If Serroux had indeed given him a verbal promise, with a witness no less, his claim was quite legitimate.
He had every right to seize Erith, and Brooke Serroux, in payment for the debt.
Braxton’s mind began to work quickly.
“My lord,” he began. “I passed Erith on my way here. It is a broken down castle and nothing more. Certainly not worth all of the expense you are going to pay me to claim it.”
“Perhaps not. But the land is worth something. What will be your fee for such a task?”
Braxton regarded him a moment. “How much did Serroux owe you?”
“Why is that of concern?”
“Curiosity, my lord.”
Wenvoe shrugged. “He had borrowed twenty thousand gold marks, a handsome sum.”
“That is a good deal of money.”
“Indeed. So you can understand why I would claim my right to Erith.”
“I will give you thirty thousand gold marks if you will relinquish your right.”
Wenvoe’s puny eyes widened. He abruptly straightened, the bench beneath him groaning under his weight. “What’s this you say?”
“You heard me. Thirty thousand gold marks and you sell me your rights to Erith.”
The baron was clearly astonished. He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it just as quickly. He gave Braxton a most queer expression.
“What is your interest in Erith, de Nerra? You are a soldier of fortune. You are paid to fight other men’s wars. And now you would give me money to forget about mine?”
“My reasons are my own. I will pay back Serroux’s debt and then some. Enough so that you should be satisfied.”
Wenvoe’s wide eyes suddenly narrowed. “But you make no sense. What is Erith to you?”
“Absolutely nothing. But as I said, I passed it on my way to Creekmere. It is a place unworthy of my talents. A child could raze the place. No amount of money could coerce me to shame myself by kicking over a castle made of sand and call it a victory. My skills are worth far more than that.”
“Your talents are for sale and if I pay the right price, you will do as I wish.”
“Sell me your rights or I’ll raze Creekmere.”
What had been a fairly pleasant atmosphere of professional bargaining suddenly turned ugly. The mood that swirled between them was ominous. The baron looked at Braxton as if the man had lost his mind.
“You come into my home and threaten me?” he hissed.
“Not a threat, my lord. Consider it a promise of things to come. I will buy Serroux’s debt for thirty thousand gold marks, assume your rights to the Serroux heiress, and hear no more about it from you. Are we clear?”
The baron was red in the face. His mouth worked into a thin, angry line. “What about an alliance? You will be my neighbor. Can I expect hostility from you as my neighbor?”
“If you are worried about allegiance, consider me a loyal neighbor.” He leaned forward on the table, his blue-green eyes as hard as stone. “And I assure you, baron, that you would much rather have me as a friendly neighbor than a bitter enemy.”
“You are giving me little choice.”
“I am giving you none at all.”
Wenvoe weighed his options. This day had not gone as planned, but with the acquisition of thirty thousand marks of gold, it had not been entirely unpleasant. He held his furious gaze a moment longer, just to know how displeased he was with de Nerra’s threats.
“Pay me my money before daybreak and be gone with you.”
“Put your agreement in writing and you shall have your money by within the hour.”
Exactly an hour and half later, Braxton and his men were back on the road to Erith. But not before they made a slight detour to Kendal.
*
“Mama!”
In the kitchen yard, Gray heard her daughter calling her. But she was busy churning butter, as the elderly cook had injured her back, and had not the time to stop what she was doing to respond to her child. She called out instead.
“Here, Brooke. In the kitchen!”
Clad in brown broadcloth and the mended apron, Brooke raced around the side of the keep and straight into the kitchen yard. Her blond hair was everywhere, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Mama, he’s come back. Sir Braxton has come back!”
Gray did come to a halt, then. Puzzled, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand before wiping her palms on her apron.
It was just shy of sunset; Braxton had been gone a little over a day and already he was back.
She felt a strange sense of excitement at her daughter’s announcement.
But she also wondered why he had returned so soon.
“Where is he?” she asked as the two of them left the kitchen yard.
Brooke was half-trotting, half-walking. “In the bailey. Hurry, Mama. He’s brought gifts!”
Gray froze for a moment, staring at her excited daughter. A bit bewildered and more than curious, she resumed following her bouncing child out into the main portion of the bailey.
Braxton and his men were indeed returned.
The five massive wagons were being parked against the southern wall while the bulk of the army was already setting up their encampment.
Brooke decided her mother wasn’t moving quickly enough and raced back to grab her hand, tugging her along.
Very shortly, they ran headlong into a big black charger with an equally big knight astride it.
“Sir Braxton,” Brooke said excitedly. “Here she is. I found her just as you asked.”