Chapter Eighteen #2
Braxton watched Niclas dash from the keep, all the while just the least bit frustrated with himself for not having seen the situation with his wife as clearly as he should have.
As he ascended the stairs to their second floor chamber, he ran into Dallas descending from the top floor where he and Brooke slept.
A few words to Dallas relayed the situation, the decision, and Dallas heartily agreed.
As Dallas retraced his steps back to the top floor to prepare his wife for her journey to Creekmere, Braxton entered the chamber he shared with Gray only to find her sleeping peacefully.
He paused a moment, gazing at her, thinking he’d never in his life loved someone, or something, as much as he loved her.
She was everything to him, his very reason for living and breathing.
He didn’t want to be separated from her and he didn’t want her to be miserable, but life wasn’t always the ease one hoped for.
Just when Gray was beginning to experience the life of love and luxury she deserved, her happiness was about to take another downturn.
So was his.
*
Thomas de Nerra entered the outer gatehouse of Erith Castle, looking around the place with great curiosity.
He’d heard of Erith, of course, one of Simon de Montfort’s holdings and knew that the castle had seen great men of history pass through her halls.
But the castle around him, though big and bulky and marginally fortified, still seemed like a shell of its former reputation. To him, it looked like a ghost.
Gray stone and much rebuilding met him as he entered the inner bailey. Several of Braxton’s men came out to greet the party, having been told of their impending arrival. A tall, blond knight greeted them formally in the dusty, cluttered inner ward.
“My lords,” Dallas said to the general group dismounting their expensive chargers. “I am Sir Dallas Aston, Sir Braxton’s second in command.”
Thomas turned to the young knight, inspecting the man just as he had inspected the keep; the blue-green eyes missed nothing, as sharp as a hawk.
“Where is my son?” he asked, removing his mail gloves.
Dallas could immediately see the resemblance between father and son. “He will join you shortly,” he replied. “He asks that I escort you to the banqueting hall.”
Thomas grunted, perhaps in disapproval that his son had not been in the ward to greet him, but kept silent on the matter.
Leaving de Aughton and his three grandsons in charge of settling the men, he tossed his mail gloves back onto his saddle as he began to follow Dallas across the bailey and towards the newly re-built stairs that led to the keep.
It had taken twenty men less than a day to build the flight, which was far sturdier than the original stairs.
The rest of the men were concentrated on building three enormous mangonels, great monstrous sling-shot devices that were positioned in the inner bailey at regular intervals.
Erith Castle was built so that the north and west walls were facing a mountainous crag and between the crag and the outerwalls were big ditches that had been dug long ago.
Great boulders and remnants of obstacles remained in the ditch, and a military approach from those sides was not the wisest of choices.
There were too many obstacles and pitfalls, making the going treacherous.
Therefore, the best manner in which to approach Erith was on her south and east sides where the ground was more level.
There was still a big ditch, partially filled with great jutting boulders and swampy water, but it made for a better tactical approach.
Based on this, and the fact that Gloucester had come from the south, Braxton had the three mangonels covering the south and west walls.
Men were building furiously and gathering their supply of crude oil in great barrels.
They also had a huge supply of quick lime, Sulphur and salt peter from one of Braxton’s enormous supply wagons, creating incendiary devices that they intended to shoot at the enemy.
Braxton de Nerra was, if nothing else, legendary for his military cunning and tactics.
As Thomas, Robert, Davis and Steven de Nerra watched the extremely precise placement and planning of the defenses, Braxton suddenly appeared at the top of the keep’s stairs.
Davis was the first one to notice him and he suddenly bellowed like a madman, charging up the stairs and grabbing his youngest brother around the waist. He lifted Braxton up, shaking the man as if to shake him to death.
Laughing, Braxton clipped his brother on the Adam’s apple and was promptly dropped.
Robert and Steven practically shoved their father aside to get to Braxton. The brothers came together in a clash of joy and affection, handshakes and brotherly hugs going all around until Thomas pushed his way in.
“Braxton,” he demanded in a very fatherly way. “What goes on at this place? What are you doing?”
He was pointing to the mangonels. Braxton went to his father, taking the man’s hand affectionately; it had been years since he’d seen the man, now much older than he had remembered. He let his gaze linger on the man fondly.
“It is good to see you, too, Father,” he said.
Thomas grunted; he’d never been particularly affectionate with his boys but they all adored him and he adored them.
Especially Braxton; the man resembled his mother to a fault, the fair Regan, and Thomas was very fond of his youngest. Braxton had always been the strong one, the brilliant one, something that Thomas had missed a great deal when the man had decided not to remain at Black Fell.
But he respected his decision, or at least he had until Northumberland send the missive regarding Lady Gray Serroux.
Thomas gazed into his son’s eyes, so full of wisdom and life, and finally relented to the emotions with a pat to his son’s rough cheek.
“You look well enough,” Thomas said; it was as close to an affectionate greeting as he could get. Uncomfortable with the emotions he was feeling, he pointed at the mangonel again. “What is all of this?”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow, looking out over the inner bailey and his three big war machines.
“We are preparing for Gloucester’s arrival,” he turned back to his father. “Did de Aughton not tell you everything?”
Thomas nodded. “He told me that you are having some difficulty with Gloucester.”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “Difficulty indeed. The man is trying to kill me.”
Thomas slapped him on the shoulder and turned him for the entry. “Take me inside and feed me. We will speak more of this inside.”
Braxton did as he was told. His brothers brought up the rear, inspecting Erith’s keep as it opened up into a two-storied banqueting hall.
Due to Braxton’s money and the on-going repairs, it looked far better than it had in years, including a roaring fire in the enormous hearth.
Robert made his way up to Braxton, a big, gnarled hand on Braxton’s shoulder as they walked.
“So tell me of your acquisition, Braxton,” he said. “Erith Castle used to belong to de Montfort years ago. How did you come by it?”
Braxton looked at his brother. “I did not ‘come by it’,” he said. “I married it.”
“And that is something else!” Thomas suddenly barked. “What is this we hear about you taking a wife? Why did I have to hear about it from another?”
They had moved through the small entry and passed under the great Norman arch that led into the banqueting hall.
Just as Thomas boomed his question, an exquisite woman suddenly appeared from the alcove near the kitchen entrance.
Dressed in a lovely green surcoat, she had a big earthenware pitcher in her hand.
All four men suddenly came to a halt, fixed on the blond beauty with the angelic features.
Braxton, fighting off a grin at their astonishment, went to his wife.
“Gentlemen,” he put his arm around Gray’s shoulders and pulled her before his family. “This is my wife, the Lady Gray de Montfort de Nerra. Gray, this is my father, Thomas, and my brothers Robert, Davis and Steven.”
The men were staring at her with some shock and Gray smiled politely, looking into faces that faintly resembled her husband to varying degrees.
“My lords,” she said in her soft, sultry voice. “Welcome to Erith. I am so pleased to meet you all.”
Robert was the first one to push forward and take her hand. “Lady de Nerra,” he said politely. “You have little concept of just how thrilled we are to meet you. We had no idea that Braxton had taken a wife and already I can see that you are far too good for him.”
Gray smiled sweetly at her husband before returning her focus to his brothers. “I am the fortunate one,” she said, then indicated the banqueting table, which was laden with several dishes and great pitchers of wine. “Will you please sit? Let us become acquainted.”
Braxton took the pitcher from her and set it on the table as his brothers and father began commandeering seats.
Braxton helped Gray to sit down opposite his father, taking his seat beside her while Davis tried to sit on her opposite side.
But Steven slapped Davis on the head and yanked him out of the way, taking the seat for himself.
Dejected, Davis plopped his big body on the table top and tore into a huge loaf of white bread.
Braxton poured his father a cup of wine before serving Gray and then himself. Robert, seated across the table next to Thomas, poured himself a cup also.
“We have not seen Braxton in several years,” Robert said, passing the pitcher to his father. “Much has changed with him. I never thought I would see the day when he would settle in one place.”
Braxton has his arm around Gray. “I still have not settled in one place,” he told his brother. “Erith does not actually belong to me; it belongs to my daughter and her husband.”