Chapter One #3
Boothe wasn’t pleased, not in the least. He’d hoped to garner a great deal of sympathy by telling anyone who would listen about Gage’s alleged behavior.
He’d intentionally ousted Gage from Septentrion before the Ashington celebration because he knew many local allies would be in attendance, men he could spread his lies to.
Men he’d been cultivating since his father passed away, sending them missives of flattery and pledges of his allegiance.
Now, that intention was being handicapped and he didn’t like it.
But he couldn’t help it if someone brought up his missing brother.
In that case, he should be obliged to tell them why.
Perhaps he wasn’t completely thwarted, after all.
“As you wish, my lord,” he said after a pause.
John opened the door, ushering Boothe through. He watched him depart the keep, leaving the heavy entry door open in his wake. That afforded John the opportunity to watch the man walk across the inner ward to the gatehouse that opened into the outer bailey where the great hall was located.
But he wasn’t the only one watching Boothe.
“Was that Lord Stagshaw that I just saw?”
Wynter was coming off the stairs, peering through the open entry. John walked up beside her.
“Aye,” he said. “The new Lord Stagshaw. God help us.”
Wynter turned to look at him. She and her father shared the same pale brown eyes, so pale that they were a shade of amber.
“Why would you say that?” she asked curiously.
John looked at his daughter. Knowing she had a soft spot for Gage, he wondered just how much to tell her.
Wynter was mature for her age, not like flighty Spring, or silly Summer, or an adolescent like Autumn.
Four daughters, named for every season, but Wynter was his pride and joy.
When she wasn’t acting out stories from the bible, that is.
One flaw in what he considered an otherwise solid character.
He spent his days secretly hoping she would outgrow the need to put on woolen beards and sacrifice her sisters for the sake of her art but, so far, that hadn’t happened.
Yet.
But the time was swiftly approaching when she was going to have to give up such childish pursuits.
She was of marriageable age and men wanted a wife who was proper and educated, not one who dressed up like Christ or his disciples.
Still, she was the most mature out of his daughters and something told him that Boothe de Reyne was not going to keep his mouth shut when it came to his brother.
He also knew that Wynter would be asking for Gage.
He had to tell her something.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
He took Wynter by the hand, leading her into his solar and quietly shutting the door. Once inside, she faced him expectantly.
“Is something amiss, Papa?” she asked.
John let go of her hand and scratched his head. “I do not wish to ruin your special day, Wynnie, but there is something you should know,” he said. “You are expecting Gage de Reyne today and he is not coming.”
As he knew it would, her face fell. “Why not?”
John wasn’t quite sure how to phrase what he knew.
He held up his hands to her in a soothing gesture.
“I want you to listen to what I have to say,” he said.
“Know that it will do no good to become upset and there is a hall full of guests waiting to wish you many blessings upon your day of birth, so you must not face them in turmoil.”
Wynter wasn’t sure what he was leading up to but she knew she didn’t like it already. “What has happened to Gage, Papa?”
John gestured towards the keep entry, the last place they had both seen Boothe. “Stagshaw came to tell me that his brother tried to kill him and steal his inheritance,” he said. “As a result, his brother was banished. Gage is no longer at Septentrion, dearest. He has gone.”
Wynter took on a distinct countenance of disbelief. “What is this madness?” she hissed. “Gage tried to kill his brother and steal his fortune?”
“That is what Stagshaw says.”
Her mouth popped open. “But it is not true!” she said. “You know it is not true. Gage would never do such a thing!”
John was nodding before she even finished her sentence. “I know,” he said. “He said that Gage left and took Bull with him, so they have both gone.”
“Gone where?”
“He does not know.”
“How long ago?”
John lifted his shoulders helplessly. “I did not ask,” he said. “It must be recent. Boothe has been Lord Stagshaw less than a month, so it could only be recently.”
“But he actually told you that Gage tried to kill him?”
“That is what he said.”
Wynter was still wallowing in disbelief when she suddenly looked ill.
“Oh, God, Papa,” she breathed. “Do you think… do you think Boothe killed Gage and he is making up stories for his disappearance? We all know that Boothe and Gage never got on, so mayhap they had a great argument and Boothe killed his brother. Mayhap –!”
John cut her off. “I would never believe in a thousand years of living that Boothe de Reyne could somehow overpower his brother and kill him,” he said flatly. “That is simply not possible. But…”
“But what?”
John held up a finger knowingly. “But I do not believe Boothe’s version of what happened,” he said.
“It is all too coincidental for my taste. I know that the de Reyne brothers were never fond of one another, but for Gage to attack his brother… unless he was provoked, I do not believe he would do it.”
Wynter was listening anxiously. “Then you think Boothe did something that forced Gage to react?”
John nodded. “Especially if de Becque went with him,” he said. “De Becque is a man of great integrity. He could never serve a man he could not respect.”
“And he does not respect Boothe?”
John shook his head at what he considered an obvious question.
“I would wager to say that he does not,” he said.
“Truthfully, we knew the day would come when Hart de Reyne passed away and Boothe became the new lord. If there is any man on earth not worthy of such a title, it is Boothe. But he is still the rightful lord, like it or not. Therefore, if Gage was provoked into an unwinnable situation, it is possible he chose to leave and de Becque went with him.”
It made sense to Wynter, sort of. “But why did they simply leave?” she wondered aloud. “Why not come to you or any of the allies and tell them what happened? Why simply go and not fight back?”
John looked at his daughter. “Sweetheart, Gage has no ground to stand upon,” he said regretfully. “He is not the heir to his father’s fortune. Boothe is. If Boothe wants him away, then away he must go. He cannot fight the legitimate heir.”
Wynter didn’t like that idea at all. “Then why not send someone to look for him?” she said. “We can send Clark to follow his trail and find out where he went.”
She was referring to her father’s captain, Clark de Vries, a well-regarded and highly skilled knight.
Clark was in command of Ashington’s army, including four other knights.
All of those seasoned knights were a heavy payroll burden for Ashington to bear but considering how wealthy Ashington was it was really no burden at all.
Only the finest for the Earl of Ashington, as everyone in Northumberland knew.
But John wasn’t so sure about sending one of his prized knights out to hunt down a man who perhaps didn’t want to be found.
“Stagshaw seemed to think he might go to Pamplona,” he said.
“Where is that?”
John flicked a hand in a general easterly direction. “Near the Pyrenees, south of France,” he said. “Their mother was from a very large family there, so he might already be halfway there. I do not think it is a good idea to send a man after him.”
“But –!”
He cut her off, gently done. “Wynnie, think about it,” he said softly.
“If he had wanted you to know where he was going – if he had wanted anyone to know – he would have told them. If he had wanted you to know, he would have come here to tell you. I know you are sweet on him. I know you have been for a long time. But I do not recall Gage ever returning those feelings… has he?”
Wynter’s cheeks were starting to flush with embarrassment now that her feelings for Gage had been brought up.
“Not in words,” she stammered. “But there were times… times when I knew he could… oh, Papa, I know I am much younger than he is, but I know there were times when we would look at one another and I knew he could feel something for me when the time was right. When I was older.”
John sighed faintly. “And it is just as possible that he thought you were a nice, if not slightly silly, young girl,” he said. “Did he ever speak of a possible romance?”
Wynter lowered her gaze. “Nay, but I know that he could… that we could… Papa, I am not imagining it.”
John gasped her arms, gently, looking down at his titian-haired daughter.
He felt for her, that was true, sweet on a man who had been very kind to her but nothing more.
Anything more was all in her mind. Wynter wanted Gage de Reyne’s attention very badly, but Gage had simply looked at her as a sweet, young lass to treat like a younger sister.
In fact, that was what he’d always called her – little sister.
It was a term of affection, but not the kind of affection Wynter wanted.
“He is gone,” John said softly but firmly. “Although I do not believe his brother’s version of the tale, there is nothing we can do about it. If he wants to return to see you, then he will, but I will not send a man out to find him when we do not even know where he has gone.”
“You said Pamplona.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “I am not sending a man to Pamplona,” he said. “I know this is disappointing for you, but you are simply going to have to come to terms with it.”
That wasn’t the answer Wynter wanted. “I will ask Lord Stagshaw to tell me what happened,” she said. “Mayhap I can figure out…”
“Nay,” John cut her off sternly. “This is none of your affair, Wynter. Do you understand me? Boothe de Reyne is a shallow, petty man with a big army at his disposal and I’ll not have you involving yourself in something that is a de Reyne family matter. Promise me.”
Deep down, Wynter knew he was right, but she was desperate.
She wanted to know what happened between Gage and his brother.
But more than that, she wanted to know where Gage had gone.
Still, she knew what her father said was correct – Boothe was dangerous.
Everyone knew that he was underhanded and sly.
He probably wouldn’t tell her anything, anyway.
But still…
“Very well,” she said glumly. “I promise.”
“Do not even go near him.”
“As you wish.”
John kissed her on the forehead and took her out of the solar, leading her towards the great hall of Ashleven where guests were awaiting the lady of honor. With every step Wynter took, she felt more and more despondent over Gage’s departure.
And more and more rage towards Boothe.
Her father had asked her not to get involved and she knew he was right. She knew it wasn’t any of her business. But she couldn’t help herself.
She wanted to know the truth.
As the feast progressed that evening, Boothe de Reyne took a seat next to Wynter as she spoke to some young women, all of them sisters, who had come all the way from Warkworth.
Boothe ended up occupying Wynter’s time for a short while, much to the displeasure of John.
He’d told Wynter to stay away from Stagshaw, but she’d gone back on her word.
She spent a good, long time speaking to Boothe as John watched and when Boothe departed the table, seemingly incensed or offended, John didn’t have to ask why.
He knew.
Gage.
When Wynter’s celebration feast was over and done with and all of the guests had departed, John took his hand to his daughter’s backside in punishment for having disobeyed him. It was only a couple of good swats, but Wynter got the message.
After that, she was much more careful about openly disobeying her father, but it did nothing to deter her from trying to find out what happened to Gage de Reyne.
Her stalwart young knight who had disappeared into thin air.