Chapter Eleven #3
He was asking about his eldest son, a very powerful knight in his own right who possessed his mother’s fair looks.
Sir Coleby de Velt actually served the Earl of Northumberland, Yves de Vesci, but Jax had called the man home for this particular venture.
Julian looked around, searching out his brother from among hundreds of men. He finally saw him.
“He is over to the east,” he said, pointing. “He is riding along the edge of the column. I wonder what he is doing?”
Jax looked over his shoulder, seeing his eldest son in the distance.
“What we should all be doing,” he growled as he faced forward.
“Watching to see if de Lohr is launching an offensive our way. Ride point, Julian. Be well on guard. Stop the column when we come to within a half-mile of Lioncross and tell them to hold station.”
Julian nodded, eyeing his father a moment. There was something warm glittering in the two-toned eyes.
“If I have not told you before, Father, allow me to tell you now,” he said. “I am proud to be riding with you. I have never ridden to battle with you, you know. This is a momentous occasion.”
Jax glanced at his enthusiastic son. At twenty years and two, he was still very young mentally, much younger than Jax had been at that age, but he was exceptionally skilled and intelligent.
Still, he had a lot of growing up to do, something only time and experience would take care of. He gave the boy a half-grin.
“You have gone to battle with me before,” he said. “When you were younger, we had to fight off the Scots a couple of times.”
Julian shook his head. “I was only a child then,” he said as if those skirmishes had been nothing of consequence. “I had not even gone to foster yet.”
“You still rode with my men to defend White Crag against raiders.”
Julian made a face. “That was nothing,” he said. “This is real battle.”
Jax didn’t have the romanticized view of this campaign that Julian did. He shook his head faintly. “I hope not,” he said quietly. “We are riding to retrieve your sister. I hope it does not go badly for us or for her.”
Julian sobered as he was reminded of the reason for their campaign.
“As do I,” he said, thinking of his sister who was only two and a half years younger than he was.
“I hope Allie is… you do not think they have harmed her, do you? I mean, she is probably locked away in the vault but they would not actually hurt her, would they?”
Jax couldn’t even think on the possibilities. He didn’t want to visit that horror unless he had to. “She is more valuable to them alive than dead,” he said steadily. “One does not usually harm an asset, not when it can get you what you want in the end.”
Julian eyed his father. “What they want is you.”
“And I am coming to them,” he said, looking at his son. “I am coming with one thousand men and two big knights to secure my daughter. They shall not get the better of me, lad, have no doubt.”
Julian seemed comforted by that, as Jax had intended.
Whether or not he believed his own propaganda was another matter altogether.
Not wanting to discuss the situation further, he snapped his gloved fingers at Julian to prompt the young knight to head to the point of the column, as he had been ordered.
Julian spurred his big bay Belgian rouncey forward, parting the soldiers along the way as he went.
Jax watched the young man go, wondering if, indeed, they would see action before this campaign was through.
Clearly, he knew one thing for certain – if Allaston was harmed in any way, there would be blood. The Dark Lord would see to it.
Another half-hour saw Lioncross Abbey Castle come into view towards the south, a massive bastion that sat atop a small rise like a great sentinel protecting the countryside.
The walls were the color of sand, a beige-grayish stone that was local to the area.
Jax focused on the legendary castle as they approached, relieved that there was no army waiting for him, or worse, riding out to fend him off.
For once in his life, he wasn’t looking for a fight.
He was looking for help. As the army drew within the half-mile perimeter that Jax had discussed with Julian, Cole came riding up beside his father.
“The messenger is returning, Father” he said. “I can see him coming up the road.”
Jax took a deep breath. He realized that he was actually nervous. Would de Lohr agree to see him? Or would he tell him to go away? “Very well,” he said. “Let us hope that de Lohr is in an agreeable mood today, for I would very much like to speak with him.”
“Will you ask for reinforcements from him?” Cole wanted to know.
Jax shrugged faintly. “I am sure it will be too much to ask,” he said. “Who in their right mind would ally themselves with Ajax de Velt? Certainly not a man with a reputation like de Lohr’s.”
“Then why did we come?”
“Because one can hold out hope that I am wrong and de Lohr will indeed join ranks with the likes of me.”
Cole’s lips twitched with a smile. “You are not so bad.”
“You were not around twenty-five years ago.”
Cole snorted softly. He knew what his father had done twenty-five years ago, more in-depth than anyone else did because Jax himself had told him.
Since marrying Cole’s mother, however, his life had changed drastically.
He no longer surrounded himself with killers and mercenaries.
All the men that served him now did so out of fealty, not rewards.
Those generals who had been so instrumental in his conquest those years ago had moved on to other things.
Unless it was in direct relation to a property he owned, Jax had little or no contact with those men from the past. It was true that men could be reformed and Ajax de Velt was a living example of that.
But his reputation, the one of fear and death, still lived on.
It was something he would never be rid of.
“Not to worry, Father,” Cole said. “Someday, all will be forgiven or, at the very least, overlooked. In any case, I….”
A shout cut him off and both Jax and Cole looked to see a lone rider barreling up the dusty road that skirted the big village, heading in their direction.
In the morning sun, light glinted off of the rider’s metal protection and created a flashing effect.
Jax emitted a piercing whistle from between his teeth, signaling to Julian, who called a halt to the column.
Men began to shout, making sure everyone had heard the command, as the army of a thousand men and six wagons began to grind to a stop.