Chapter Eight
The fat orange cat meowed loudly as its weary master came lumbering into the cold chamber.
It was barely dawn as St. Alban closed the door behind him and went to the kindling box for a few sticks of wood.
Tossing off his cloak, he went to the old fireplace and pushed the iron pot and arm out of the way so that he could start a blaze.
The flint in his cold fingers sparked once, twice, before finally catching hold.
In little time, there was a small warm glow in the soot-covered hearth and the old man continued to kneel before the fire, warming his hands and plotting his next move.
The entire walk back to the Tower from the bread shop, he’d though of nothing else.
When the cat rubbed against him demandingly, he scratched the fuzzy ears with affection.
“Well, my fat little friend,” he said to the animal. “Now he’s gone and done it. It seems our friend has a dilemma on his hands.”
“What dilemma is that?”
The voice came from the dimness. Startled, St. Alban held himself in check admirably as he turned to the source.
Old knight reflexes had him remain cool even in the face of a threat.
Inglesbatch sat in the shadows, in the chair so often used by Brogan.
His round blue eyes were shadowed and his cheeks were unkempt with stubble.
The man looked like he’d seen an active night.
“My lord,” St. Alban said steadily. “I did not see you when I came in.”
“I know,” William replied. “I meant that you should not.”
The old man stood up and brushed the soot off his hands. With effort, he moved to the nearest chair and lowered his bulk. When he faced Inglesbatch, it was with an expression that suggested he expected the worst. He braced himself.
“To what do I own the honor of your visit, my lord?” he said with more hospitality than he felt.
William shifted in the chair. “I come bearing a message for d’Aurilliac.
I assume that you have seen him.” St. Alban hesitated to answer and William put up a calming hand.
“Have no fear; I’m not here to cause trouble.
I simply come with a message from my lady.
I would prefer to deliver it to d’Aurilliac in person. ”
St. Alban wasn’t sure if he should trust him or not. “Is she well?”
“Well enough,” William replied. “Considering she spent half the night being interrogated by her uncle and her intended’s captain. It was not pleasant.”
St. Alban tensed. “They did not injure her, did they?”
William paused just long enough to make St. Alban think that he was not telling the entire truth. “Nay,” William said. “But she is understandably exhausted and frightened. Which is why she sent me with a message for d’Aurilliac.”
“What is the message?”
“Are you offering to relay it, or do you simply wish to know?”
“Both.”
“An honest answer, my lord. And to that I will repeat that the lady asked me to give d’Aurilliac the message personally.”
St. Alban sighed. He was attempting to remain congenial, cooperative, but he did not want to give anything away.
“You will forgive me, Sir William, if I am reluctant to reveal Brogan’s whereabouts,” he said quietly. “You are, after all, de Neville’s knight. You could simply be using tactics to locate Brogan and I will not knowingly contribute to his capture.”
William’s blue eyes glimmered in the firelight. “Understood. But you must trust me when I tell you that I am only to deliver the message to d’Aurilliac, not to capture him. The deal the lady made with her uncle negates the need for capture.”
St. Alban didn’t like the sound of that at all. His flabby body tensed with consternation. “What does that mean?”
William’s expression lost some of its hardness. “Take me to d’Aurilliac. There is much he should know.”
St. Alban almost refused again. But there was something in William’s manner that suggested his request was sincere. Still, he would not be so foolish. “I will take you and you alone. We will not be followed or accompanied.”
“You have my oath.”
Being an honorable knight himself, St. Alban believed him. To date, Inglesbatch had been truthful and open. St. Alban had no reason to doubt him, other than he was sworn to de Neville.
“Where does your loyalty truly lie, Sir William?” he could not help himself from asking in a strangely pleading tone. “You should be blindly loyal to de Neville, yet you demonstrate your loyalty to his rebellious niece over all.”
William’s expression wavered slightly. “I am sworn to Richard de Neville, Earl of Warwick. I would defend the man to the death.”
“I was not attempting to insult your allegiance, Sir William. But if de Neville is intent on separating the lady and Brogan, you have made it clear that the lady has your sympathies. Or… do you seek to gain her trust only to betray her?”
William’s expression slackened further. “Of course not,” he said quietly.
“Lady Avalyn and I have known each other for many years. She has always been extremely kind to me. I do not like seeing her so upset and I do not like the situation she has found herself in. I would help her, if only to deliver a message to someone she has already endured a great deal for.”
St. Alban watched the man’s features, the way his lips moved when he spoke of her.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t sensed it earlier; the man was in love with her.
There was no other explanation. For a man like Inglesbatch to have risen in the ranks of The Kingmaker, his abilities were beyond question.
He had to be a strong, cunning man. But it was evident that even though his loyalty was with de Neville, his heart was with the niece.
It made for an interesting situation. And strangely, it made St. Alban trust him.
“William,” St. Alban lowered his voice, acquiring a tone of familiarity.
“There are things you should know before you proceed. I am not entirely sure how this situation veered so far out of control, but the lady and Brogan were indeed together tonight. Though they did nothing immoral or questionable that I was able to determine, they did pledge their love to one another and agree to marry.”
William didn’t flinch, though his stomach lurched. He let out a sigh, running his fingers through his dark, somewhat messy, hair. “But they have only just met. How can they…?”
St. Alban put up a hand. “Love is a strange thing. Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes it takes years. With Brogan and the lady, the attraction was instant. But there is more.”
William’s eyebrows lifted. “What more could there be?”
“They adopted an orphan. A little girl, absolutely beautiful. They plan to marry and raise her as their own.”
William just stared at him. His choice was to either explode like a father or sink like a jilted lover. For a long, heavy moment, the revelation hung between them. After a moment, William simply hung his head.
“A family,” he murmured. Then his head came up, an ironic smile on his lips. “So Avie finally has her family.”
“What do you mean?”
“Precisely that,” William sighed heavily. “She lost her parents at a very young age, and in spite of living with her aunt and uncle, she always felt as if she lacked a true family. Now… now she is apparently trying to make one with d’Aurilliac.”
St. Alban didn’t reply for a moment. In faith, he was he wasn’t sure what to say.
But what eventually came out was the truth.
“Brogan lost his wife to childbirth eleven years ago. Then, three months ago, his young son was killed. The man has not been the same since. The night he met the lady, he was contemplating taking his own life because the pain was just too great. Lady Avalyn saved his life, William. Perhaps he has saved hers a little bit as well.”
William thought of the lady with the golden eyes, sweet and savvy and wrapped up in her uncle’s politics.
She had always been so focused on her uncle’s schemes and desires, as if nothing else existed.
It was unusual for a lady, especially one so young, to involve herself in politics the way she did.
But in hindsight, William wondered if she wasn’t involving herself simply to belong to something and to feel needed.
“I have known the lady a long time,” he said after a moment.
“She’s never truly known the attention or caring of another human being.
Her aunt and uncle are as concerned as they can be for her and they have certainly given her everything she could ever want, but the truth is that she has two cousins that take priority.
There are those who have tried to show her attention, but…
well, suffice it to say that there have been others. But she has given them no regard.”
St. Alban could read the man like an open book. “You?”
William looked shocked. “I am a knight, my lord. I serve the lady, not solicit her affection.”
St. Alban put up a hand to apologize. He knew he was correct but did not push the issue. It was of no regard, anyway. He did not want to make the man feel worse than he obviously already did. Slowly, he stood on weary legs.
“It is past dawn, my lord,” he said quietly. “I would suggest we go now so that you may deliver your message to Brogan.”
Inglesbatch stood also. In full protection, he was also armed. He unstrapped his broadsword, releasing the hide straps on his leg and waist and laying the weapon to the floor. He looked up to see St. Alban’s curious expression.
“So there will be no doubt as to my intentions,” he explained quietly. “I cannot take d’Aurilliac into custody without a weapon.”
St. Alban cocked an eyebrow. “You more than likely could not take him into custody even if you had one. Have you not seen the size of the man?”
Inglesbatch’s only response was to lift an eyebrow. “I am well aware of what the man is capable of.”