Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“My lord,” the soldier tried not to notice when Brooke slapped Dallas’ hands away as she made her way up the stairs. “We have sighted an incoming party about a half a mile away.”
Dallas nodded, not particularly concerned. “Banners?”
“None, my lord.”
“How big?”
“We can make out a wagon and four riders.” As Dallas nodded again and prepared to give an order, the young soldier interrupted him. “I have heard… my lord, that is to say, I have heard some of the more seasoned men say that one of the riders looks like de Nerra.”
Brooke froze on her ascent up the stairs, staring at the soldier, as Dallas’ brow furrowed.
“Which de Nerra?” he asked.
“Sir Braxton, my lord.”
Brooke gave a hoot and quickly came off the stairs.
The other knights, who were in the process of vacating the hall when the messenger entered, heard the man’s words also and they began barreling out of the keep.
Dallas moved to follow, trying to keep a rein on his excited wife so she wouldn’t overly strain herself or, worse, fall down the stairs in her excitement.
He held on to her all the way down the stairs that led from the keep into the bailey, pleading for calm from her even as he bellowed orders to open the gates on the outerwall.
Long since repaired to her former glory, Erith’s great gates yawned open as soldiers cranked the wheel that reeled in the chains.
As Dallas had good hold of Brooke, chargers suddenly bolted past them and he looked up to see Norman, Edgar, and Geoff thundering out onto the road.
Niclas was on foot, standing at the outer gate house as the gates cranked all the way open.
He bellowed to the men to take up the slack and secure the chains.
Brooke stood between the inner and outer wall with Dallas, whimpering softly as the wagon finally came into view down the long expanse of road.
She could clearly see when the three chargers met the wagon and she could see the ensuing commotion, but she couldn’t see who was actually approaching.
They were just too far away. Dallas had his arm around her shoulders, holding her fast, his blue eyes riveted to the incoming party.
He didn’t want to hold out hope that what the men said was true.
But as time passed and as the party grew nearer, he began to recognize one of the mounted men.
A slow smile spread across his face, joy and excitement filling his veins.
He kissed his wife on the temple as the party drew closer.
“It is him,” he whispered to her. “It is Braxton.”
Brooke burst out into loud sobs. “Where is my mother?”
Dallas’ joy and excitement tempered dramatically; he didn’t have an answer for her and the only one he could come up with was not a pleasing one. He squeezed her gently.
“I do not know, sweetheart,” he said, trying to comfort her. “Perhaps she is in the wagon and we cannot see her.”
Brooke was weeping loudly. Suddenly, she broke away from him and began running down the road towards the wagon.
Dallas easily caught her and stopped her from running any further, terrified she was going to injure herself and the child.
But Brooke struggled against him, crying and smacking at his hands, as he prevented her from running any further.
The wagon drew closer and Braxton, in all his glory, came into focus. It was an amazing and awesome sight.
Without armor, he rode the cream-colored charger with ease, clad in simple breeches, tunic and boots, the same clothing they had last seen him in.
He could hear Brooke crying loudly from several dozen yards away and even as Geoff and Norman milled around him, he spurred his charger forward at the sight and sounds of Brooke’s fit.
He was on her in an instant, noticing her advanced pregnancy. His eyes widened.
“Brooke?” he drew the charger to a halt, vaulting off the animal as he moved quickly to his daughter. “Sweetheart, what is the matter?”
Brooke pulled free of Dallas and threw herself against Braxton. Her arms went around his neck.
“Braxton,” she wept dramatically. “I thought you were dead!”
He hugged her, trying not to quash her big belly. “Nay, sweetheart,” he kissed her on the side of her head. “I am not dead. I am very much alive. And you are pregnant.”
He said it with such surprise that her sobs turned into weepy giggles as she pulled back to look at him; he looked healthy and whole, just as she remembered him. Like a vision from a dream, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.
“I am,” she said, seeing his amazement. But it didn’t deter her terror and grief and the tears returned with a vengeance. “Where is my mother?”
Braxton realized what had her so upset; he took her by the arm, passing a glance at Dallas and smiling at his son-in-law.
“I can see you are taking great care of her, Dallas,” he grinned. “And you are looking well yourself.”
Dallas smiled broadly. “As are you, for a dead man,” he said, moving up behind Brooke and putting an affectionate hand on Braxton’s shoulder. “You have no idea how glad we are to see you.”
Braxton wriggled his eyebrows as he began to lead Brooke and Dallas toward the approaching wagon. “As I am very glad to see you,” he said. “There is much to tell.”
Before Dallas could respond, Brooke looked up at him with her big, watery eyes. “What happened after we left Elswick?” she wanted to know. “Dallas sent a missive every week asking for information on you and Mama. We never received an answer. We did not know what happened to you.”
Braxton held her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know,” he said. “There was much going on at Elswick. I was much occupied taking care of your mother.”
Brooke started to well up again as they approached the wagon. “Where is my mother?” she wept, pleading. “What happened to her? Why was she so sick?”
“Because your brother was making himself known.”
The soft, female voice came from the wagon as it came to a stop.
Startled, Brooke’s tears vanished as she gazed into the wagon bed and immediately spied her mother.
But Gray wasn’t alone; she was propped up against the side of the wagon, holding a downy-haired infant in her arms. Gray smiled at her daughter as Brooke nearly came apart.
“Mama!” she gasped. “Wha… what…?”
Gray laughed softly. “Slow down, sweetheart,” she looked at Braxton. “Help her into the wagon so she can see her new brother.”
Both Braxton and Dallas lifted Brooke up into the wagon bed and it was Gray’s first glimpse of her daughter’s advanced state of pregnancy.
She reached out as Brooke scooted over to her, putting her hand on Brooke’s belly and biting off tears of her own.
She felt the warm firmness of her daughter’s belly with the greatest of reverence, startled in her own right at the sight of her daughter.
“Look at you,” she gasped, gazing up into her daughter’s rosy face. “Are you well, sweetheart? How do you feel?”
“She is fine,” Dallas was standing at the edge of the wagon, beaming from ear to ear. “She eats more than I do, runs around like a madwoman, and refuses to slow down. I have my hands full with her. She is as healthy as a horse.”
Gray laughed softly, tears finding their way onto her cheeks as she returned her gaze to her daughter. “You really should ease up,” she said softly. “You must take care of yourself and my grandchild.”
Brooke waved her off, peering at the tow-headed baby in Gray’s arms. “I am fine, truly,” she smiled at the round-cheeked, blue-eyed infant. “Oh, Mama, he is wonderful. He looks just like Braxton. What is his name?”
Gray looked down at the baby, cuddled and content in her arms. “Meet your brother,” she murmured, stroking the velvety cheek. “This is Deston de Nerra, a big and healthy boy who very nearly drained the life from me.”
Brooke was cooing and touching the infant, who smiled back at her. She crowed in delight. “He is beautiful! Can I hold him?”
By this time, Braxton and Dallas had moved to the side of the wagon where the women were sitting. Dallas helped his wife to sit on her bottom while Gray handed the baby over to her. Brooke happily cuddled the boy with the white-blond hair.
“He is so sweet,” she crooned, then looked to her mother. “Is this why you were so sick?”
Gray nodded, peeling back the swaddling from the baby’s head and exposing him to the warm sunlight.
“He made me ill day and night,” she replied.
“I could not eat and could barely keep water down. He was just starting to announce himself when the Gloucester soldiers took us from Creekmere and when I fought with them, I very nearly killed myself from the strain.”
Brooke nodded in understanding, turning back to look at the baby. “It makes sense now,” she said. “But why did you not send word to us before now? We did not know if you or Braxton were dead or alive.”
Braxton’s big hand came to rest on Gray’s shoulder.
“Your mother was quite ill for the duration of the pregnancy,” he said.
“I spent my time at Elswick keeping both myself and your mother alive. I could not attempt escape because she could not be moved, so my only choice was to stay with her. Moreover, I did not have the type of relationship with de Milne where the man would allow me to send missives; we were, essentially, prisoners. But that all changed when Deston was born. De Milne’s wife, who helped me tend your mother for the duration of her pregnancy, convinced her husband to let us leave.
As soon as your mother was strong enough and the baby old enough, we did. ”
It explained a great deal. Brooke realized she wasn’t perturbed about it any longer; she was just grateful to have her mother and Braxton back. All of the anguish and grief she felt over the past year suddenly vanished as she gazed at her mother.
“I am so glad you have come home,” she looked at Braxton. “It simply was not the same without you.”
Braxton kissed his wife. “I have always been a wealthy man,” he said softly, his gaze moving to his beloved son, the one he had seen once reflected in Gray’s eyes.
“But suppose I never truly understood what it was to be truly rich. If happiness and a family makes a man rich, then I am indeed the richest man in the world.”
Dallas clapped him on the shoulder. “You are very rich,” he agreed. “And we are glad to have our liege back.”
Braxton wriggled his eyebrows. “My time in captivity has taught me something, Dallas,” he looked at the young man.
“It has taught me that it is my time in life now to enjoy my wife and children and leave the warring to the younger men. I have put in my time as a knight and commander; now it is my time to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”
Brooke looked at Braxton. “Dallas has been commanding your army for the past year. He has done a wonderful job. He has made a lot of money.”
Braxton grinned. “And he can keep on commanding it, for I am going to stay home and grow fat and lazy with my wife by my side.”
Brooke laughed softly, returning her attention to the infant in her arms. She kissed his little cheek happily.
“I have never had a brother,” she murmured, watching the baby grin. “Welcome home, Deston. Soon you will have a little playmate.”
And soon he did. Fat, healthy Matthew Aston was born on a cool September night, so easily that it was over almost before it began.
Brooke hardly broke a sweat while her husband’s light-headed reaction was decidedly different.
The following year, Deston was joined by brother Auston and Matthew was joined by twins Andrew and Alexandra.
Erith, once a place of doom and hopelessness, was now a place with joy and children.
The old de Montfort castle began to live again.
Life went on. Dallas went on to assume the mantle of commander of Braxton’s army but with three little ones at home, he mostly sent Geoff and Niclas out instead, carrying on the legacy of the great de Nerra mercenary army.
Like Braxton, Dallas wanted to watch his children grow up.
In the years to come, he and Braxton would sit in the great hall of Erith before a roaring blaze, watching five tow-headed youngsters play and grow, thinking that these were the best years of their lives.
But then Deston would clobber Matthew, Auston and Andrew would squabble, and screams would fill the air.
After the fathers broke up the fights, they still thought it was the best time of their lives. There was no doubt about it.
Sometimes, when all was still and peaceful and the children were in bed, they would discuss that day at the falls of Erith that changed their lives forever.
A happenstance on that day turned out to be platform through which greater things were achieved.
Dallas admitted once that he thought, as he held tight to the girl clinging precariously on the wet rocks, that he was certain he would lose his grip on her.
He even remembered at the time feeling her wet flesh slip away from him, increment by increment, and thought for certain that her life was about to end.
But it didn’t end. He had no idea at the time that his, in fact, had just begun.
* THE END *