Chapter Twelve
The inhabitants of Lioncross waited in tense silence mostly, watching the horizon, knowing de Velt’s army was lingering in the distance, watching and waiting.
The massive, oddly-shaped bailey was full of peasants as the soldiers tried to organize the refugees from the village, trying to put them into areas that were least likely to receive bombardment or projectiles should de Velt’s army advance.
The air was filled with uncertainty even though de Lohr seemed particularly calm.
He stood with his knights in the gatehouse against the portcullis, watching the road and waiting.
And waiting.
But the wait wasn’t a long one in the grand scheme of things.
Less than a half-hour after the messenger returned to de Velt, the sentries on the walls of Lioncross began to take up the cry.
A rider had been sighted in the distance.
When the cry went up, Christopher turned to look at his knights, who peered back at him in various stages of apprehension.
Soon, they would see what no man had ever seen and lived to tell the tale – Jax de Velt in the flesh.
The Dark Lord himself would soon be on their doorstep and they were understandably apprehensive. Old fears died hard.
“I will wager that he is a tiny old man,” Max finally said, his attention on the road beyond the portcullis. “All of these years we have feared a monster and, more than likely, rumors have been exaggerated. He is probably a tiny old man with no teeth.”
Edward, standing beside him, snorted. “Better still, what if he is really a woman?” he said. “Wouldn’t that be a tale to tell? The great Ajax de Velt is female!”
Max grinned and opened his mouth to reply but de Lohr shushed his knights. “He is not a woman and he is not a tiny old man,” he said, his sky-blue eyes fixed on the road. “He is as big as a mountain and as dark as the Devil, see for yourself.”
Edward and Max rushed to the portcullis, pressing their faces against the heavy iron to see what de Lohr was seeing.
The road stretched out before them, fairly flat, before curving to the right to circumvent the perimeter of the village.
There was also a descent in elevation from the castle so that the fortress had an expanded view over the top of the village and to the countryside beyond to the north.
As they watched, a figure could be seen galloping in from the north, following the curve of the road as he moved around the berg, and then heading towards them up the incline leading to the castle.
All eyes were fixed on the figure who was riding a very large war horse bareback.
The man astride the horse was big, bigger still as he approached, with tendrils of his long hair blowing in the wind as the moved along at a clipped pace.
The sun was up now, shining brightly as it headed towards its zenith, so it was easy to see the details of the rider as he approached.
The closer he came, the more they realized that he was indeed an enormous man.
Enormous and larger than life, as Ajax de Velt should be.
Christopher was well aware of the man’s size and of the fact that he was beholding Ajax de Velt. He examined the man as he drew closer still before calling to one of the sentries at the gate.
“Open the portcullis!” he boomed.
Edward and Max looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “What are you doing?” Edward asked, clearly apprehensive.
Christopher cast his men a long look. “Stop acting like a bunch of frightened women,” he scolded.
“I am going out to meet the man and you will remain here. Whatever he has to say is between him and me, and I do not need a bunch of nervous women cowering behind me. He is a lone man on a lone horse with no weaponry. There is nothing he can do against me.”
Edward didn’t take kindly to be called a nervous woman, truthful though it might be. “Remember that dagger he has up his arse,” he muttered. “If he cuts your throat with it, don’t say that I did not warn you.”
The portcullis was nearly a third of the way up and Christopher called a halt, moving to duck underneath it.
But before he did, he looked at Edward. “If he pulls a dagger out of his arse, then tell the archers to aim for his heart,” he said.
“If the man makes any aggressive move towards me, tell them to shoot him down. Is that clear?”
Edward liked that command a great deal. It brought him comfort. “Aye, my lord.”
Christopher ducked underneath the portcullis and ordered it lowered as he took a few steps forward, away from the portcullis as de Velt came near.
Before the man could come too close, however, Christopher held up his hands to stop him.
The rider obeyed, coming to an unsteady halt several feet away.
Now, the moment of truth was upon them and it was a great and terrible silence that followed. The Dark Lord had arrived.
Christopher eyed the man atop the big bay stallion.
He was utterly enormous, with long dark hair tied behind his head, enormous hands, and a muscular body.
He was older now, with streaks of gray in his dark hair, and he was perhaps ten or twelve years older than Christopher.
He was rather handsome and well formed, and he certainly didn’t look like the monster de Velt had been accused of being, but as Christopher took another step or two in the man’s direction, he could see that the man had two distinctly colored eyes.
Christopher had seen horses with eyes like that but never a man.
De Velt’s left eye was brown and his right eye was a bright green.
Now, some of the fear and lore of Ajax de Velt was starting to take on a bit of credibility. He did indeed look terrifying.
“Are you Ajax de Velt?” Christopher asked steadily.
Jax nodded his head. “I am,” he said. “Are you de Lohr?”
Christopher nodded. “I am Christopher de Lohr,” he said. “Your messenger said that you wished to speak with me. I am granting you that privilege but you will do it from a distance. Dismount your horse and remain beside it.”
Jax didn’t hesitate. He threw his leg over the horse and hit the ground.
Then he just stood there as Christopher studied him, perhaps satisfying a deep curiosity, perhaps simply wondering what the man wanted.
It was a natural inclination since Jax de Velt, when he hadn’t been tearing up the land, kept to himself.
He’d been quiet for many years. After a moment of scrutiny, Christopher spoke.
“Now,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”
He wasn’t being overly friendly but he wasn’t being rude, either. It was better than Jax had hoped for.
“First, I would like to thank you for being gracious enough to see me,” he said. “I did not think you would.”
Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “I was afraid of what you would do if I did not,” he said truthfully. “History tells us that it is not prudent to anger Jax de Velt.”
Jax gave him a half-smile, ironic. “I suppose we should speak on the days of the past and get them out of the way before we continue with pleasantries,” he said.
“I have not engaged in conquest of any kind in twenty-five years, not since I met my wife. We have six children and I live a very quiet life in Northumberland as the vassal of the Earl of Northumberland. My life since those days of long ago has been peaceful. It is in peace that I come to Lioncross to seek your counsel.”
Christopher listened to the man’s word with interest. He certainly sounded sincere. In fact, he seemed rather docile, calm, and reasonable, not at all like the Jax de Velt of legend. It was rather perplexing and he struggled not to let that confusion show but he simply couldn’t help himself.
“I am speaking with the Ajax de Velt that tore through the Marches twenty-five years ago and confiscated six castles, am I not?” he asked.
He felt as if he had to. “You are the one who killed men, women, and children by impaling them on poles and then posting the bodies for all to see, are you not? It is The Dark Lord I am speaking to?”
Jax nodded patiently. “It is I,” he said. “I am sorry to disappoint you. Mayhap you were expecting lightning bolts to shoot out of my eyes and fire to belch forth out of my mouth?”
Christopher nodded honestly. “I was expecting to see horns and cloven feet at the very least.”
“I have yet to remove my boots so you may yet be satisfied.”
It was spoken with humor, an unexpected element added to the conversation. Christopher’s lips twitched with a smile.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Leave some air of mystery about you. I have never met a legend before.”
“Nor have I until now.”
It was a compliment. Christopher had to admit that he was feeling more at ease with de Velt, a man who seemed to understand the terror he caused and was not beyond accepting it and even making fun of it, as dark as that period in time was.
But there was still an air of uncertainty to the conversation and Christopher addressed it.
“You are not here to burn my town and lay siege to my castle, are you?” he asked. “This counsel request is not a ruse, is it?”
Jax shook his head firmly. “I swear that it is not,” he said. “I come with entirely peaceful intentions, contrary to what you would believe of me. I have come to you because… because I need help.”
Christopher’s eyebrows rose. “The great Ajax de Velt needs help?” he repeated. “I am astonished. Since when do you need help from anyone?”