Chapter Nine #2
The hall smelled like a barnyard. It was devoid of any furnishings and what furniture there was seemed to be broken or half-repaired, certainly not the fine pieces he remembered.
The small number of Scots outside the manse had belied the reality of dozens inside, living in a central courtyard like a great communal encampment. In all, it was a horrific sight, a once fine mansion now destroyed by animals disguised as men.
But Shand kept his focus on Fenella, who had become round and slovenly over the years. He remembered seeing her once, a long time ago, and she had been a lovely, full woman with beautiful hair. Now, she simply looked… old.
Shand found it difficult to believe that Roget kept this piece of baggage on the side when he had a wife as beautiful as Amabella.
Strange, indeed.
“We actually met several years ago, my lady,” Shand said, ignoring the Scots who were eyeing him like hungry hunters.
“I was with a group of soldiers Roget had brought to Mordrington and we were not formally introduced, so I am not surprised that you do not know me on sight. But I am indeed Shand Bexwell and I was Roget’s commander. I have come for a purpose.”
Fenella nodded. “That’s what my brother has told me, briefly,” she said, indicating the sane Scotsman standing next to her. “This is my brother, Win. He told me what ye said when ye arrived. A proposal?”
Shand glanced at the brother before replying. “It seems to me you know of Roget’s passing.”
“I know.”
“May I offer my… sympathies.”
She nodded, but she averted her gaze. There was something there, like guilt or shock or… something. It was difficult to tell. When she finally fixed on him again, her gaze was uncertain. “Ye’ve not come tae remove me?”
Shand shook his head. “As I told your brother, I have come with a business proposition and it has nothing to do with removing you from Mordrington,” he said. “In fact, if you help me, you can keep it for good.”
“What do ye want?”
“An introduction to your clan, or at least access to your warriors.”
“Ye want men tae attack Trastamara?”
“If they help me, I will tell them how to defeat Trastamara. I know the place quite well.”
Fenella looked at him for a moment before sitting down in one of the only chairs left in the hall. Her expression was still full of doubt.
“I dunna understand,” she said. “Ye served Roget for years. He spoke of ye, so I know it is true. And now ye want tae ruin his castle?”
Shand cocked an eyebrow. “It is not his castle any longer,” he said.
“It belongs to his son, a whelp who has been away for years. He has come back to assume his father’s command and he is weak.
So very weak. It will be a simple thing to overrun Trastamara and gain her wealth – and there is a good deal of wealth to be had. ”
Fenella pondered that. “But why should ye want tae do that?”
Shand sighed sharply. “As I told your brother, I have been dismissed,” he said. “I was humiliated and wrongly sent away. Instead of respecting my position with Roget and my years of loyalty to the man, I was treated like dirt. That bastard of an heir had no right to do what he did.”
“What did he do?”
“He took my command.”
“But he is Roget’s heir.”
Shand was becoming annoyed with the woman.
“So he is,” he said. “That does not mean he is fit for command, nor does he even deserve it. And what about your sons? You have two with Roget. Do you think these lads will be provided for by Atlas de Sauque? Of course not. They will be shunned and ignored. They will have no part of their father’s legacy.
Don’t you want them to have their due? What is fair to them?
Help me and your sons shall have what they deserve. ”
Fenella regarded him for a moment. “Then this is about vengeance,” she said. “Ye want tae punish Roget’s heir for treating ye poorly.”
Shand’s expression tightened. “He may have been Roget’s heir, but he did not serve his father as I did. I should be the one in command of Trastamara, not him.”
Fenella still wasn’t sure about anything. She could see a man before her, a man bent on revenge for an offense against him. Real or imagined was up for debate. She sensed great arrogance from him, and ambition, because he lusted after something he felt was his due.
Fenella had been around enough ambitious men to know one when she saw him. It was a mood, a feeling, or perhaps even the way the man carried himself. Looking at Shand Bexwell, a name she’d heard many times over the years, she could see that he was determined to harm what Roget held dear.
Not that it mattered to Fenella.
In truth, Shand was correct. Her sons would receive nothing from their father’s estate and that was something Roget himself had made clear over the years.
He considered her sons mistakes and little more.
As long as Roget provided a roof over their head and put food in their bellies, Fenella didn’t complain.
It was as good as she could hope for. But now…
Now, she saw a chance for her children where there hadn’t been one before.
Perhaps in death, Roget was about to provide for his bastards in a way he wouldn’t in life.
Fenella had never been particularly ambitious.
She’d stopped loving Roget years ago and he’d become a habit more than anything, her keeper, her tormentor, and little else.
She’d become so very complacent in life, simply living day to day without any excitement or hope.
Roget’s death at the hands of her brother had not upset her in the least, but she had worried for the future a little, knowing that, at some point, Roget’s army would come to remove her.
It would be a battle, too, because her brother’s men would put up strong resistance.
But none of that had happened yet.
It was possible it wouldn’t happen if what Shand was offering was true.
“Very well, Shand Bexwell,” she said after a moment. “I’m willing tae listen tae what ye have tae say. I’m sure my brother will, too. And we keep Mordrington.”
Shand nodded with satisfaction, realizing he had her interest. “You shall, indeed,” he said. “But I keep Trastamara.”
“Then what did ye have in mind?”
“Feed me and I shall tell you.”
The long, exhausting day turned into a long night.