Chapter Eighteen #4
Keller took a long drink of wine. “But you are going to have to tell him, eventually.”
Christopher glanced at Jax, who shrugged. “I thought it would better if we did not tell him anything,” he said. “Let John Morgan show himself and then we shall see if Berwyn recognizes him. If he does, then it will be a wonderful reunion. If not, then we did not get an old man’s hopes up.”
Keller sat there, toying with his wine cup, thinking on Christopher’s strategy. Although the story of John Morgan was an incredible one, something didn’t make sense to him. After several pensive moments, he spoke softly.
“Do you not think that if John Morgan was really Bretton de Llion’s father, he would have contacted Berwyn long ago?” he asked softly. “I would think that he would have contacted his own father simply to let him know that he was alive.”
Jax interjected himself into the conversation.
“John Morgan suffered a head injury during the siege of Four Crosses,” he said.
“He could only tell us his name was Morgan and not much more. It was my men who gave him the name John Morgan. He was as strong as a bull but his head injury was severe enough that he could not think well for himself. I gave him over to de Vesci as a personal guard because the man didn’t have much of a mind of his own and de Vesci wanted someone close to him who could be easily ordered about.
John Morgan fit that role well. I had no more use for the man so de Vesci took him. ”
Keller listened intently, reasoning through the situation.
“If John Morgan really is Bretton de Llion’s father,” he said, “then will he even know it? What if he is the father and we present him to de Llion, but Morgan has no knowledge that the man is his son? Worse yet, what if he shuns him? That could go very badly in our favor, worse than if we hadn’t presented the father at all. ”
Christopher could see his logic. “That is a good point, but I am willing to take the chance,” he said. “In any case, we must unbalance de Llion and take advantage of that chaos. We must stop the man once and for all, and regain de Velt’s daughter in the process.”
Keller poured himself more wine. “Then what do you have in mind?”
Christopher, too, poured himself some wine from another pitcher. He found he needed it. “We have two options, in my opinion,” he said. “We present John Morgan to de Llion and pray the man is his father. If he is, then we do an exchange – Morgan for Lady Allaston.”
“But Berwyn will know his own son,” Jax interjected.
“If Morgan arrives at Lioncross first, and Berwyn is still here, then surely the father will recognize his own son, therefore, we will know before engaging de Llion if John Morgan is really his father. If he is not, then we must make a secondary plan.”
Everyone fell silent for a moment, assessing the possibilities. Jax had made a very good point. Behind Keller, William Wellesbourne cleared his throat softly to gain their attention.
“If I may, my lords,” he said, leaning forward on the table so he could better look those around it in the eye. “If John Morgan is not de Llion’s father, we still have a man related to him within our grasp – his grandfather. Mayhap Berwyn would use himself in exchange for de Velt’s daughter.”
Christopher nodded. “It is as good a plan as any,” he said.
“I will approach Berwyn with it when the man has sufficiently calmed. Until then, let us enjoy this wine and this food and entertain further possibilities. I, for one, am more interested in learning about Keller’s terrible cousin that he was going to have to kill.
Keller, you have my interest. Who was this awful man? Did I know him?”
Keller didn’t want to discuss his terrible cousin as wine was passed around and bread was distributed.
The serious meeting had loosened up and soon they were speaking of things other than war and destruction.
Christopher had just launched into a story that involved himself, his brother, a knight named Sir Kieran Hage, and an encounter with an angry potentate in The Levant when Edward suddenly entered the hall.
“Chris,” he called gravely. “You had better come.”
Christopher knew that tone and he didn’t like it. He set his wine cup down and turned to Edward.
“What has happened?” he demanded. “Is Berwyn well?”
Edward was oddly pale, avoiding the question about Berwyn.
“We just received two riders,” he said. “One rider is the messenger we sent to Northumberland those weeks ago, and the second rider is a man he brought with him from Northumberland by the name of John Morgan.”
Everyone at the table stood up at that moment, including Christopher.
The air was instantly full of anticipation, of foreboding, as the entire future hung in the balance with the course of the next few words.
They all knew the stakes. They all knew what this moment would mean.
Now that it was upon them, the air was fairly crackling with anxiety.
Christopher could hardly spit the words out.
“Where is Berwyn?” he asked.
“He was in the bailey when the men rode in.”
“Has he seen the man?”
“Aye.”
Christopher was ready to explode. “And?” he demanded, charging away from the table as he headed for the keep entry that led out to the bailey beyond. “Damnation, what has happened? Is John Morgan missing a finger?”
Edward grabbed Christopher before the man could storm past him, an unusual gesture but one wrought with the emotion of the moment. All eyes were on Edward as the man, his hands on Christopher’s big arms, looked him squarely in the eye. The next two words sealed the fate of the future.
“He is.”