Chapter Thirteen #3
“I will tell them to release you, as you once told your men to release me,” he said. “But you are not going anywhere. You once told me that you would have me killed should I ever return to Septentrion. Do you recall? Well… I’m back.”
The last words were spoken in a tone that bordered on a threat and Boothe, with horror on his face, looked as if he’d aged twenty years in the past six.
He was heavier, paler, and some of his teeth had fallen out.
He simply didn’t look well. As Azul and Wyeth released him on Gage’s silent order, he stood straight and brushed off what was a very expensive, and very dirty, tunic.
“So you are,” he said, struggling to regain his composure and command. “What do you want? You are still not welcome here.”
Gage actually cracked a smile, snorting, as he motioned to Brian, who came to stand in front of Boothe. Brian, however, was not smiling.
His jaw was ticking furiously.
“Your brother is not the instigator of this siege,” he said.
“I am. Your days of raiding and thievery and damage are over, de Reyne. Your time is finished. I am purging you and your men from Septentrion and confiscating it in the name of the House of de Luci. To the victor go the spoils and your castle is a spoil.”
Boothe’s eyes widened. “You cannot take a man’s property!”
“The way you tried to take mine?” Brian fired back.
“Interesting you should have scruples now, of all days. You had your chance, de Reyne. You could have left me in peace and gone about your business, but you chose not to do that. As a result, you injured an innocent young knight in a horrific fashion and if there is any justice in the world, you should be saddled with his injuries for the rest of your life. I’m tempted to break your neck myself and leave you alive so you can suffer as he is.
Your greed has brought you here, have no doubt.
How does it feel to see the end of everything you ever knew? ”
Boothe was starting to lose his composure again. “You cannot!” he said, sputtering. “My men will fight you! You cannot take what belongs to me!”
“I will again remind you that you tried to take what belongs to me,” Brian said. “I have no sympathy for you. You’re fortunate that I am allowing you to live for what you have done.”
Boothe began to look around in a panic. “Who are your men?” he said, looking to the faces around him. “I will pay you all better than de Luci can. Fight for me! Gage, you may return home with honor. Fight for me! Do not let de Luci take our family home!”
Brian looked at Gage, who was focused on his brother. But after a long moment, Gage looked over the man’s shoulder and motioned to Varro, standing a few feet behind Boothe. Varro came forward to stand next to his nephew.
The one he liked, anyway.
“Do you recognize this man?” Gage asked. “You should. He is our mother’s brother.”
Boothe didn’t recognize him at all. He had never cared about his mother’s side of the family and, truth be told, he’d only ever seen them once, so he looked at Varro as if he literally had no idea who the man was.
Because he didn’t.
“Our mother’s… brother?” he finally said, looking at Varro. “Uncle… Alejo?”
Varro shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “The other brother. The one that is an outcast and has built his own mercenary army, an army which has taken your castle, dear Boothe. I am Varro.”
Boothe’s eyes widened. “Uncle Varro?” he said in shock, looking between Varro and Gage. “I do not understand. This is not de Luci’s army?”
“Most of it is Tynedale’s,” Varro said. “But almost two hundred and fifty of those men are mine, the most highly trained and highly paid army in Navarre. Lord Tynedale hired us to punish you for your attempts to steal his lands and injuring his cousin. A coincidence that Gage should serve me now, is it not? He told me what you did to him, by the way. That was a terrible thing, Boothe. Terrible, indeed.”
Boothe was trying to maintain some level of control. “He fled,” he said. “He ran off.”
“Why did he flee, Boothe?”
“Because… because he tried to steal my inheritance!”
Gage simply shook his head while Varro went over to Boothe and slapped him across the face.
“That is for lying,” he hissed. “You will not lie to me. Did Gage truly try to take your inheritance?”
Boothe was humiliated and his cheek stung. “Aye!”
Varro slapped him again, harder. “Did he truly?”
Boothe broke down as Varro lifted his hand threateningly. “Stop!” he cried. “Stop! He… nay, he did not try to steal it. I exiled him from Septentrion. I did not want him here so I told him to leave or I would kill him!”
He was practically shouting by the time he was finished. Varro looked at Gage, who was surprisingly unemotional about the whole thing. He simply lifted his eyebrows as if to confirm what he’d been telling everyone since the day he’d left Septentrion.
Varro shook his head sadly.
“You have shamed your family, Boothe,” he said. “Worse still, you have shamed my sister, a truly pure and compassionate woman. How did Avelina have a son such as you? Do you not remember your glorious mother and how she loved you?”
He slapped him again for good measure, in memory of his beloved sister. Boothe shrieked, not expecting the sting.
“My mother hated me!” he shouted, recoiling from what was sure to be another slap. “She did not care for me, so I do not care for her. My father was the only person who showed me any regard, so do not speak my mother’s name to me. I do not care!”
It was the wrong thing to say to Varro. The distinctive eyes were blazing. “You speak blasphemy.”
“I speak the truth!” Boothe shouted, spittle flying from his lips. “She left us when we were young to live in Pamplona. She never stayed with us. Of course she hated us. I do not care if I shame her because she shamed me, every day of my life.”
Varro was taken aback at the vitriol from his nephew. He balled a fist to slug him in the face, but Gage stepped forward.
“She did leave us, Tio,” he said quietly.
“That is the truth. She could not stand England and Pamplona meant more to her than her sons did. I do not harbor any ill will because I know she was unhappy and in the times I did see her, she was very kind and affectionate to me, but she loved her family in Pamplona more than her family in England. Still, do not let Boothe use that as an excuse for his behavior. His evil is purely his own.”
Varro was still grossly unhappy with Boothe, but at least he lowered his fist. He snarled at the man.
“Bastardo sin valor,” he growled. “I am ashamed to call you my nephew. De Luci has my permission to do whatever he wants to do to you. I wash my hands of everything.”
With that, he turned away, heading towards the pockets of fighting.
As he went, he yelled to his troops, telling them to raid the castle and take anything they wanted of value.
With a roar, his men within earshot broke for the keep.
Since the words were spoken in Basque, Boothe didn’t understand them, but he saw the men rushing into his keep.
“Where are they going?” he demanded. “What do they want?”
Gage didn’t have an answer for him. He didn’t care.
He turned to say something to Brian when a high-pitched sound suddenly filled the air.
It was unexpected and menacing. He knew what it was.
In that split second, he knew that there were bolts being fired at them.
From where, he had no idea, but someone was firing arrows.
He shouted for the men to take cover, but it was too late.
The arrows hit all around them, meaning there were several archers that had been overlooked, somewhere.
The Septentrion archers were making themselves known.
Brian was the first one hit, clipped in the arm.
Azul, Wyeth, Laurence, and Clark were able to throw themselves against the wall of the keep, which was closer to them than it was to Gage and Brian and even Boothe, standing out in the open.
Boothe screamed and bolted, running off and presumably running for cover, but Gage wasn’t fast enough.
That split second of indecision as he tried to pursue his brother cost him.
A bolt caught him in the neck where it joined with his right shoulder.
Given that he wasn’t wearing his hauberk, there was nothing between him and that nasty and rather large bolt.
Down he went.