Chapter Fifteen #2
“You are lying,” Roger hissed.
“I have the document and witnesses to prove it.”
Roger struggled to stand. “But William was promised the Lady Brooke’s hand and this holding. You stole it!”
“Who promised it to you?”
“Lady de Montfort, of course.”
“My wife’s grandmother had no authority to do so,” Dallas replied. “This castle belongs to my wife’s mother, the Lady Gray, who pledged both her daughter and the holding to me. It is therefore legally and morally mine. You have no claim. You never did.”
Dallas sounded very matter of fact. Roger stood on unsteady legs, glaring at the young knight. “Lady de Montfort is the lady of this keep, for it was her husband’s holding,” he snarled. “She has every right to broker it.”
Dallas shook his head. “The castle was Lady Gray’s dowry upon her marriage to Garber Serroux.
It was her husband’s to do with as he pleased.
Having used the keep to pay a gambling debt to Baron Wenvoe, Sir Braxton then purchased the rights to Erith from the old baron.
Technically, it is Sir Braxton’s holding.
But he returned it to the Serroux family and it became my holding when I married Brooke.
Is any of this clear to you yet, my lord?
Understand that Erith was never yours. Lady Constance had no right. ”
Roger began to shake. With clawed hands, he reached out towards Dallas, his mind filled with madness. “I will kill you!”
Dallas deftly side-stepped the old man, who tripped over his son’s supine body and tumbled forward.
Because Dallas was not there to prevent his fall, he plunged over the side of the landing and to the bailey two stories below.
Shocked, Dallas and Braxton could do nothing more than watch the man crash on his head. He was dead upon impact.
They stood atop the landing, staring at the body below them. After long moments of silent dread, Braxton looked at Dallas.
“I fear,” he said quietly, “that we are in for a good deal of trouble.”
*
“None of this would have happened had it not been for you,” Gray’s voice was icy. “I want you out. I do not care where you go, but I order you from Erith. I never want to see you again.”
Constance sat in her fine bedchamber, facing the window. She refused to look at her daughter, who was visibly upset. After the events of the last several hours, the tension between mother and daughter was at splitting capacity. But Constance chose to ignore it.
“I will not leave and you cannot force me,” she said firmly.
“I will have Braxton bodily remove you, Mother,” Gray was in no mood for her mother’s arrogance. “You have schemed your last scheme. Now see what you have done to us with your treachery and selfishness. De Clare’s brother will return and destroy us, and it is all your doing.”
The old woman turned to her, eyes flashing. “You will not speak to me like that. I will not tolerate your insolence.”
“Your behavior dictates mine. You are to be treated accordingly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Gray’s amber eyes blinked slowly, with exhaustion. It was slightly after the nooning meal in a day that had seen far too many shocking events in it already. But it was about to see one more.
“It means that you are treacherous, deceitful and horrid. It means that I am embarrassed to call you my mother. It means that after this day, you will be dead to me.”
Constance’s thin face tightened; she approached her daughter with fury in her manner.
“You impudent girl. What gives you the right to judge me? I was doing what I had to do in order to preserve this family. You would see us die away without lifting a finger. You are weak; weak! I am ashamed I birthed such a creature!”
Gray watched her mother’s features as she spoke; the old woman believed everything she said. She simply didn’t understand. In the world of the Northumberland Grays, what she had done was perfectly acceptable behavior and Gray knew there was no use in continuing the conversation.
“You have one hour to pack,” she said, moving for the door. “If you pack nothing, you take nothing. But mark my words, Mother; you shall be removed from this place and I do not want to see you again. Is that clear?”
Constance was quivering with rage. “You cannot banish me. This is my home. I forbid it.”
Gray wasn’t going to get into a verbal altercation with her mother any more than she already had.
She’d made her position clear. When she put her hand on the latch to open the door, she was hit in the ear with something hard and heavy.
Stunned, she put her hand to her head, drawing away blood.
At her feet lay the iron candleholder that had done the damage. She looked to her mother in horror.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded.
Constance would not cower. She lifted her chin defiantly in a gesture that was very reminiscent of her sometimes-rebellious granddaughter.
“You are an evil child, Gray. You deserve to be punished for every evil thing you have ever done to me. Have you no respect for your mother? How dare you order me from my own keep. And you are raising Brooke to be just like you. She is as evil and disobedient as you are. If given the chance, I would take her from you and raise her as she should be raised.”
Gray’s horrified expression turned to one of threat. “And just how should that be?”
Constance’s eyes blazed with a deeper madness. “Like me.”
Gray’s control snapped; she had always kept her composure with her mother, no matter how the woman had behaved.
She was her mother, after all. But in that statement, every thread of respect vanished.
The woman was vicious and evil. If she would harm her daughter, then there was no knowing what she would do to someone else.
Gray could not allow her to get her hands on Brooke.
She simply couldn’t take it any longer and momentary insanity filled her.
She rushed to her mother and grabbed the woman by the hair. Gray was taller and stronger than her mother and used that to her advantage; as tears streamed down her face, she yanked the screaming woman to the door and threw it open.
The entire keep suddenly came alive to the screaming of Constance and the cursing of Gray.
Gray pulled her mother down the narrow spiral stairs, almost tripping but managing to keep her balance.
She was mad with grief, with fury, as she continued to pull the woman down the second flight of stairs to the main living level.
Servants came rushing out to see what the matter was, dumbfounded to see Gray towing her mother brutally by the hair.
But no one moved to intercede; they all knew that Lady Constance had punishment coming to her.
For the years of harassment and cruelty to her daughter, for the evils she had sewn during that time.
In fact, there wasn’t one witness that did not approve of what they saw. They saw justice.
Gray was sobbing and cursing as she pulled her mother outside.
She yanked the woman down the first two steps but Constance grabbed hold of the banister, holding herself firm.
Gray took hold of a bird-like arm and gave another pull, managing to move the woman another two steps down the flight.
But Constance took hold of the railing with another hand, holding fast as Gray pulled.
There was much screaming going on, and some blood.
It was the screaming that attracted Braxton.
On the outer wall with Dallas, he had been consulting with his men as to the fastest and most complete way to reinforce the crumbled sections before Gloucester undoubtedly came down around their ears.
De Clare’s army had left a few hours before with their dead liege and his dead son as somber cargo and Braxton had no doubt that they would return in force to avenge the deaths.
He wanted to be ready. But the screaming distracted him, especially when one of his soldiers, with a better vantage point, told him what was transpiring.
He bolted off the wall with Dallas close behind.
By the time they reached the keep, they could see Gray with a vicious grip on Constance.
Shocked, Braxton ran the breadth of the bailey towards the stairs, watching his wife practically yank her mother’s hair from her scalp.
As he approached the steps, Brooke suddenly emerged from the keep and began screaming.
Her crying granddaughter was enough of a distraction that Constance lost her grip on the rail, tumbling back into Gray.
Gray lost her balance. Before Braxton could reach them, he watched with horror as his wife and mother-in-law tumbled down the newly repaired steps.
They landed in a heap about the time Braxton got to them. He felt to his knees, shoving the old woman off of his wife.
“Gray, sweetheart,” Braxton’s voice was shaking as he tried to assess any visible injuries. “Are you hurt? Speak to me, sweet; where do you hurt?”
Gray was staring up at the sky, her expression void. She swallowed hard, her eyes slowly blinking. “Braxton?” she whispered feebly.
“I am here, sweet,” he moved so she could see him, his face very close to hers. “Where are you hurt?”
She swallowed again and closed her eyes. “My mother,” she murmured. “Remove her from Erith. Remove her before I kill her.”
He cast a glance at the disheveled, and unharmed, old woman now in Dallas’ grasp. “I will,” he told her, his eyes finding Dallas. “Go and get a physic. Hurry!”
Dallas pulled Constance with him as he stood up. His attention found Graehm, having just run upon the group. “Find a physic,” he ordered sharply. “Ride to Milnthorpe or Leven. Go!”