Chapter Six
“My lord, if it is any consolation, I told him to stay away from her also,” St. Alban was in a dire predicament. “I told him that it would not be healthy for him.”
Having been awoken from a dead sleep by angry de Neville men, St. Alban sat in the middle of the chamber he shared with Brogan, wondering where all of this madness was going to take them.
A bulldog of a knight with a round face and big blue eyes stood over him, firing questions at him as if to wrest a confession.
Several other de Neville soldiers milled about, some of them upending the chamber searching for something they had not, as of yet, made clear.
“We spoke with the Master of the Barracks and he says that you live with d’Aurilliac,” Inglesbatch said with very little patience. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“He also said that you are the only man who can remotely communicate with him. Surely he has told you his intentions towards Lady Avalyn?”
St. Alban shook his head; he wasn’t about to betray whatever information Brogan had divulged to him. “He never stated his intentions, my lord.”
“Do you know how they met?”
“An accident, I believe, my lord,” St. Alban said calmly. “He saved her from her runaway horse.”
“What runaway horse?”
“Last night. Her horse spooked and Brogan saved her from sure death.”
William fell silent a moment. He knew she’d gone to the stable the previous evening to check on her horse and she had returned unharmed.
He had heard nothing about a spooked horse, but that would explain why both Avalyn and d’Aurilliac were sighted at the stables examining the high-strung colt.
Now it made sense. There had been a time when Avalyn used to tell William everything and he was feeling the slightest bit hurt.
Her brief infatuation with d’Aurilliac was growing, no matter how hard he’d tried to stop it.
His envy began to seep into his manner. “Be that as it may, it does not give him excuse to take license with her,” he hissed. “She is a woman of the highest noble order and, I might add, betrothed to a powerful lord. D’Aurilliac is playing with fire.”
That drew a reaction from St. Alban. He looked at William, horror and shock in his eyes. “She is betrothed?”
Inglesbatch nodded slowly. Then, he suddenly bent over the man threateningly, his mailed arms braced on either side of the heavy chair.
“I do not know what magic d’Aurilliac seems to have over the lady to cause her to behave so, but I have caught her in clandestine situations with him twice already.
And tonight, she was out well after midnight, roaming the grounds of the Tower in, I can only assume, her quest to rendezvous with d’Aurilliac.
But before I could forceably escort her back to her apartment, I was hit on the head and knocked unconscious. I do not have to guess who did that.”
St. Albans tried not to look shocked. “So what is it you want from me?”
William exhaled sharply and pushed himself off the arms of the chair. He paced away from the old man, his agitation evident. “I want you to tell me where he has taken her. I want to find her before her uncle does.”
Though his guard was up, still, St. Alban could sense that this was growing from bad to worse. “What do you mean?”
The round blue eyes focused on him. “I mean precisely that. When I regained consciousness, I returned to the de Neville apartment to collect my men to go and search for the lady. But her uncle awoke and demanded to know what was amiss. I was compelled to tell him.”
St. Alban didn’t like the look in the man’s eye. “He will kill Brogan when he finds them, won’t he?”
For the first time since entering the small, stanky chamber, William seemed to calm. “It’s not d’Aurilliac I worry for, but the lady. De Neville justice is swift.”
“They would harm her?”
“Perhaps. I know that her uncle sent word to her betrothed to aid in the search.”
“And you want to help her?”
William’s stance weakened further. “I want to get her away from d’Aurilliac before her uncle finds them together.
If I can get her back to the apartments and give de Neville time to calm, then things should go better in her favor.
But as it is, the man is bent on fury right now.
I must get to the lady before he does. Now, will you tell me what you know? ”
St. Alban shook his head, slowly. “If I knew, I would help you, but I truly do not. Brogan did not confide in me, perhaps because I have spent my time attempting to warn him off of Lady Avalyn. Perhaps he did not want to be judged.”
Though the old man seemed sincere, William didn’t believe him. He knew more than he was telling, of that William was sure. His frustration was growing again. He resorted to a very seldom used tactic in the House of de Neville; he pleaded.
“If you could guess where they have gone, what would be your speculation?”
St. Alban was a wise old man. He had been through enough intrigue and warfare to know enemy tactics of coercion.
But the young knight with the big blue eyes did not come across as attempting to be particularly hard or clever, simply honest. Part of him wanted to help and part of him didn’t. It was a tense internal struggle.
“He tends to haunt the boroughs to the east of the Tower,” he said softly. “Or he is fond of Walworth. Beyond that, I can tell you no more.”
“Hopefully it will be enough.”
As Inglesbatch turned for the door, St. Alban stopped him. “My lord?”
William paused. “Aye?”
“Would it be possible for an old knight well past his prime to assist you?”
Inglesbatch new he meant himself. His first instinct was to deny him, but on second thought, he might prove useful. One nod of his head had St. Alban up and searching for his antiquated armor.
As William watched him dress, he felt as if he had a distinct advantage now.
At least he had a starting point, which was more than de Neville had.
Being a dedicated de Neville knight with a good deal of power, he should have rushed back to divulge everything to his lord.
But his heart was ensnared by the Lady Avalyn and he truly wanted to find her before the situation veered out of control.
Already, he could feel it slipping from his grasp.
*
Avalyn looked up from wiping tears and snot from the little child’s face only to see the oddest expression on Brogan’s features. Something between desire and mercy. When their eyes met, he smiled faintly.
“Now that she has caught you,” he said quietly, “what do you intend to do with her?”
Avalyn’s expression washed with indecision then determination. “I cannot let her go back to those children who would beat a helpless baby,” she said. The she looked at the lowered blond head, resting sweetly against her shoulder. “We must feed her, Brogan. She is starving.”
“What about your entertainment?”
“This is more important.”
His smile grew as he once again put his arm around her shoulders and took her back down the street to a pub that he was familiar with. He knew the innkeeper and knew the man would deal fairly with them. Moreover, it didn’t usually have the disparaging type of rabble he was trying to avoid.
The establishment was a typical wood and mortar building, with a patch of green moss growing up the north side of the structure.
Brogan yanked the door open, ushering Avalyn and the child inside.
It was a one-room building with a loft above, smelling of old ale and dung.
There were a few people dotted around the common room as Brogan put his enormous hand gently on Avalyn’s back and guided her into the heart of the warm room.
The innkeeper saw Brogan from behind his crudely-built bar; immediately, the round face lit up and he held up a dirty hand in greeting.
“Empfang, mein Herr,” he said. “Es ist gut, Sie wieder zu sehen.”
It was apparent that the man and Brogan knew each other. Brogan was actually friendly with the man. “A table for my lady,” he said to him. “And food. The best you have.”
The innkeeper’s bulbous eyes focus on the lady and he bowed a few times, very quickly and respectfully. “Of course,” he said in heavily accented English. “Right away.”
He lumbered away, barking orders in German to a skinny lad behind the bar. Avalyn watched him curiously.
“Is everyone you know German?” she asked.
The corners of Brogan’s mouth twitched. “When one is a stranger in a strange land, you learn where your countrymen have settled. My mother knows this man. They lived in the same village as children.”
As she nodded in understanding, he led her to a table near the smoldering hearth, offering some warmth against the chill of the room.
He held the chair out for her as she settled carefully, shifting the child in her arms so she was seated across her lap.
Brogan took the chair opposite, his eyes never leaving the beautiful lady.
She had the little girl so tightly wrapped up in her cloak that the only thing visible was the top portion of her little head; big blue eyes and dirty blond hair peeked out at him.
Brogan couldn’t help the smile on his face as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. A big hand lay gently across Avalyn’s knee.
“So I will repeat my question,” he said. “Now that she has caught you, what do you intend to do with her?”
Avalyn looked at the child, who gazed back at her with bottomless eyes. “Feed her,” she said softly.
“And then what?”
Avalyn looked cornered, determined and confused all at the same time. “One thing I will not do is allow her to go back to those horrible children. I cannot believe they would beat such a helpless baby.”
Brogan’s big hand patted her knee. “Don’t upset yourself so,” he said softly. “It is the way of things. Only the strong survive, you know that.”
Avalyn looked at him, stricken. “So I should have simply left her there to be beaten?”
He shook his head, the hand on her knee now stroking it comfortingly. “I did not mean that. What you did was most compassionate. But I cannot say I would have done the same.”