Chapter Five
“I am in no mood for foolery. My daughter has been injured this night and my patience is at an end.”
“I assure you, I bring no foolery, my lord. Fourteen hundred men have landed at the mouth of the Welland River. Nottingham is a two day’s ride from there. Can you imagine such a force for our cause, my lord?”
A man dressed in shabby clothes and a patched eye sat near the hearth, warming himself.
The bugs that found a home in his garments and against his skin were jumping off of him due to the searing heat.
Bertram watched small, black things fall onto his stone floor.
He moved his foot when a dark dot with legs moved too close.
“You’re sure?” Bertram asked.
The man nodded. “I have eyes everywhere, my lord. I trust their word.”
Bertram digested the information. The man was a spy, someone who had worked for the prince’s cause for several years.
He looked and acted like a mad peasant, making him the perfect spy.
He could go almost anywhere and glean whatever knowledge he could.
His network was laced with relatives and other unscrupulous acquaintances on the prince’s payroll.
More often than not, the information they provided was startlingly accurate and Bertram was well aware of the fact.
Which was why he considered the man’s statements carefully. “Teutonic mercenaries,” he muttered. “Fat, evil, well paid murderers.”
“Moving for Nottingham Castle.”
“Then it is up to the Earl of Nottingham to amass them until the prince is prepared to move. Any news of the Irish mercenaries?”
The dirty man shook his head. “I have not heard, my lord. The hope is to move them through Liverpool, far to the north and away from Richard’s ever-present eyes. Their destination is Bolton Castle and the prince’s supporter there.”
Bertram knew that, but the Irish mercenaries were not his concern.
Neither were the Teutonic. His direct concern was a mass of French mercenaries due to arrive at Great Yarmouth sometime before the month was out.
Weather was unusually turbulent this spring, making crossing the channel difficult.
Time frames for the prince’s paid armies had been sorely distorted by it, making future plans difficult to calculate.
Bertram stood up, clasping his hands behind his back.
In the shadows, Lon and Alger listened intently; they were the only family members allowed to witness the exchange.
They had known when they saw the spy ride into the ward earlier that evening that something was afoot.
Alberic always brought with him information, bugs, gossip and intrigue.
“So we wait,” Bertram said slowly. “The Irish at Bolton, the Teutonic in Nottingham, and the French at Framlingham. Other castles will house more mercenaries when the time comes and when we slip the noose around England’s midsection, we will divide Richard’s country.
If all proceeds as it should, John should have the throne by Christmas. ”
“Nothing except Richard’s armies,” Lon rumbled. “You speak as if his supporters sleep while we amass. You know as well as I do that if we have spies, then so does he.”
“I have been in the prince’s service since the days he rebelled against his father,” Alberic scratched his cheek where an insect bit at him.
“There is an entire community of those who secretly serve the prince and his brother. We are as shadows, flitting between sunrise and sunset, ghosts that appear and then disappear just as quickly. We are fleeting figments of the imaginations, as deadly as a viper if one draws too close. Sometimes I believe our task is more difficult than the knights who fight with weapons and fire.”
“I cannot disagree,” Bertram said. He watched more bugs leap onto his floor. “If there is nothing else, then I say you should leave. ’Tis unwise for you to remain here for any length of time.”
Alberic stood up, stiffly, feeling his age this night.
It was cold outside, threatening rain, but he dare not ask for shelter from de Rosa.
They both well understood his role, and he was clearly not a guest. Slipping from the solar without another word, he made his way out of the tower and into the bailey.
The gates were still open, even in the night, and his worn mule was tethered outside the walls.
As he hurried across the ward, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, something caught his attention over by the western tower.
Alberic paused, dipping into the shadow of the wall as he was so used to doing.
Hiding was second nature to him. He watched a large figure cross from the large western tower and into the stable block.
Puzzled, he tried to follow but stopped short of the wooden steps into the structure.
He could not risk entering the stables and being cornered.
He stood there a moment, unsure what to do, unsure of what he had seen. But he knew he must seek Bertram.
Bertram and Alger were still in the solar, deep in discussion. Lon had since vanished. Alberic paused at the solar door and removed the soiled cape that covered his head.
“My lord?” he said.
Bertram looked up from his conversation with his brother, somewhat annoyed to see the dirty spy standing in the doorway.
“I told you to leave.”
“I was, my lord,” Alberic took a hesitant step into the room. “But… I saw something….”
“Well, what is it, man, and be quick about it.”
The spy wasn’t sure where to begin. “As I was leaving, I saw a man come from the western tower and enter the stables.”
“What man?”
“He was large, quite large. Young and strong, with light-colored hair.”
Lon looked at his brother. “He must mean le Mon. If he has left Derica’s side, then she must be doing well enough.”
“Now is our chance to see to her ourselves.”
“Agreed. The man was as unmoving as a guard dog.”
“My lord?”
The spy was demanding attention, interrupting their conversation. Bertram snapped at him impatiently. “So you have seen my daughter’s intended. What of him?”
Alberic appeared taken aback. “He is to marry your daughter?”
“Yes, what of it?”
The spy would not be intimidated; he was, in fact, growing suspicious and disturbed. “I know that man, my lord.”
Bertram’s temper took a strange, cooling twist. “You do?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Where do you know him from?”
Alberic thought carefully on his reply. “As you know, my lord, I have been in the service of the prince for many years. I have seen many things, and many people. Those of us who covertly serve our masters tend to hear of one another, if only by reputation. It is wise to know one’s enemies.
Sometimes, however, we are fortunate enough to put a face to the name or reputation. ”
“Get to the point.”
“What do you know of your daughter’s intended, my lord?”
Bertram’s temper flared again. “Alberic, if you do not tell me your meaning, I will throw you from this room. You waste my time.”
The spy cocked a long, dirty eyebrow. “I think not, my lord,” he said coolly. “I think you betray your prince.”
Bertram moved for him, but Alger stopped him. In spite of the insult, he suspected there was true motivation behind it. “Explain yourself before I let my brother gut you.”
“Gut me and you will not know who your daughter’s intended truly is.”
“Le mon?” Bertram glanced at his brother, a thousand unspoken words of doubt and fear in his expression. “Who is he?”
Alberic put his filthy hood back on and turned for the door. His plan was to go directly to the prince with what he had just seen. But he would do de Rosa the favor of letting him know that his fate would soon be sealed, and his loyalties questioned.
“That man,” he said slowly, “works for William Marshal.”
*
“My lady?” Came the whisper. “My lady, are you awake?”
Derica heard the murmuring, a soft voice in her ear. She sighed deeply as she emerged from her warm slumber, opening her bleary eyes to see Aglette’s pale face. Blinking, she struggled to orient herself in the bright room.
“Aglette?” she yawned. “What is it? What time is it?”
“ ’Tis nearly noon, my lady,” Aglette said. “Something awful has happened!”
“What’s so awful?” She gasped as she moved her arm the wrong way; it was stiff and sore but, thankfully, had no signs of poison yet. She looked around the room. “Where is Sir Garren?”
Aglette was obviously distraught. The more lucid Derica became, the more she realized her servant had been crying.
“He is in the vault,” Aglette whispered.
“What for?”
Aglette burst into sobs, struggling to contain them. “I have heard they are going to kill him!”
Derica was instantly awake. “What on earth for?”
The maid shook her head. “I do not know, my lady. I only heard from the soldiers that your father and brothers captured him early this morning and placed him there.”
Derica was seized by confusion and anger. Sitting up, she bolted from the bed as fast as she could, looking for some manner of clothing to wear. The room was swaying and moving was difficult, but she would not let it stop her. She had to find out what had happened to Garren.
“Please, my lady,” Aglette begged. “You are unwell. Perhaps you should….”
Derica waved her off harshly. “I swear that my family is no better than a pack of mad dogs. The moment Garren is alone, they descend upon him like vicious beasts.”
She yanked off the gown she wore with the tattered, bloodied sleeve and struggled to step into a garment of soft gray lamb’s wool.
Aglette rushed to help her, both of them struggling to pull the sleeve over her bandaged arm.
Fortunately, the sleeve was loose enough that it fit, but barely.
The tight material caused Derica some pain, but she fought it. She had no time for her discomfort.