Chapter Eleven #2
Fear, at this moment, dictated courage.
As her daughter bolted off, Amabella faced the soldiers.
“What can I do for you, good men?” she asked steadily.
The three of them came to within a few feet of her. “Do you even know who I am, Lady de Sauque?”
It was the one-eyed soldier speaking. Amabella looked at him. “I do not know your name,” she said. “My husband would not let me speak with his men and he did not tell me your names, so I only know that I have seen you.”
The man’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. “I’m Mickleton,” he said. “Where’s Shand?”
Amabella shook her head. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “I was not part of the decision to send him away. You have been at Trastamara long enough to know that I have no control over anything. That still holds true.”
The soldiers looked at each other, looks of disgust and frustration on their features. “Berwick,” Mickleton grumbled. “He did this.”
“If you are truly concerned, then you need to speak with Viscount Ravensdowne and not me,” Amabella said. “If that will be all, I must return inside.”
“That is not all,” Mickleton said, considerably more unfriendly than he had been before. “No offense intended against your son, Lady de Sauque, but Shand Bexwell is a fine commander. He has been our commander for ten years and we don’t want another one.”
Amabella was trying to move away from them, very discreetly, one tiny step at a time.
“As you well know, I have nothing to do with that,” she said.
“I did not make the decision to send Shand away, but I will tell you this – Atlas is Roget’s heir.
He is your commander now. If you do not wish to serve him, then you can leave. Nothing is holding you here.”
Mickleton frowned. “Is that what Shand was told?” he said.
“That he could serve the boy or leave? There’s something to be said for loyalty, Lady de Sauque.
You live in your keep with your fine food and warmth and money, and you never have to worry about your future.
Well, I’ve put in too much of my time here at Trastamara and I want something for it. I’ll not leave until I get it.”
They took a step in her direction and Amabella took an obvious step back. “Your argument is not with me,” she said, her heart beginning to pound faster. “Speak to Ravensdowne of your issues.”
Mickleton came to a halt when he realized she was moving away from him.
But the message in his eye was obvious; it was about to become a hunt, with the hunter chasing down the prey.
He wanted something and he was going to get it.
Lady de Sauque, alone, would be the perfect bargaining chip.
There had been trouble brewing for days now, ever since Shand was sent away, so the moment was ripe.
There might not ever be another chance like this.
“I am speaking to you,” he said after a moment. “You are the lady they are listening to now. I have seen how Ravensdowne listens to you when you speak. Roget’s heir listens to you also. You will give them our message.”
Amabella continued to back away. “What message is that?”
Mickleton suddenly sprinted at her, grabbing her by the arm before she could get away. She yelped as his fingers dug into her.
“You tell Ravensdowne and your lad that there are many of us who don’t like how things have changed,” he growled, his foul breath in her face. “We are the men who were loyal to Roget and we deserve consideration.”
Amabella was trying desperately to pull her arm from his grip. “What consideration?” she demanded. “Be plain.”
He yanked on her to stop her from trying to escape. “We want the hall returned to us,” he snarled. “We won’t eat in the bailey, with no roof, like animals. We…”
He was cut off by movement coming from the keep.
Men were spilling out, rushing in his direction, and he could see the flash of weapons in the moonlight.
Realizing the knights were coming for him, he tried to pull Amabella with him so he could retreat into the tower and use her as a hostage, but Amabella had seen the knights, too.
Help was on the way.
“What happened to Bexwell?”
Markus asked the question as soon as they were behind the closed doors of the solar. Having brought Bexwell’s escort to the keep for some privacy, he faced the scruffy, redheaded soldier while Atlas, Cassius, Damien, and Kieran stood around, listening carefully.
The red-haired soldier sighed heavily.
“We escorted him as far south as Alnwick,” he said.
“We all spent the night at a tavern in town but before dawn, the four of us went to the northern end of town to ensure Bexwell didn’t try to come north again.
We waited much of the day and didn’t see him, so I sent one of my men to the livery to see if the man had departed and the livery keep told the story of Bexwell riding north and spying us before turning south.
If you know that area, my lord, you know it is relatively flat.
There is a moor to the west. The livery keep said he saw Bexwell head west through the moor. ”
Markus cocked an eyebrow. “Did you follow his trail?”
The old soldier nodded wearily. “We did, to the next town on the westerly road.”
“And?”
“And there is a small village at the crossroads of the westerly road and a road heading north, near Cartingdon,” he said.
“The villagers know strangers and they told us that they saw Bexwell head north along that road. We followed fresh horse tracks until the rains came and washed them away. After that, we could do no more. We hurried back to tell you that the man headed north again. You’ve not seen him? ”
Markus grunted unhappily. He dragged a hand over his face in frustration, turning to see how Cassius and Damien were dealing with the news. Cassius sighed sharply and shook his head while Damien stepped forward, focusing on the soldier he’d served with for twenty years.
Damien knew the man and knew that he was no fool. If Bexwell got away, then it was because Bexwell was clever about it, which seemed to follow Shand Bexwell’s pattern.
The man was sly and subversive.
“We’ve not seen Bexwell, but that does not mean he is not around,” Damien said. “How far did you follow his trail?”
The soldier considered the question. “Halfway to the village of Wooler,” he said. “It was a long ride, but the rains came and washed away the fresh horse trail we’d been following. After that, we had no choice but to hurry back here.”
“But where could he possibly go?” Markus wanted to know. “He knows that he is not welcome at any Trastamara property.”
“Does he?” Damien said, looking at him. “Have you sent word to Mordrington? What about the other properties? There are a few, aren’t there?”
Markus conceded the point. “There are,” he said. “I did not send word to them, never dreaming that Bexwell might actually try to go to one. He’d be foolish to try. But our allies have received word about it. I made sure to tell them of the situation should Bexwell show up on their doorstep.”
“He knows this entire area very well,” Atlas said. “He must; he served my father for ten years. He knows where he can go and hide.”
Markus scratched his head. “But why? Why would he return to a Trastamara property? To try and turn what few soldiers are manning the outposts against the new lord?”
Damien, older and wiser, and having seen much of the evil men could inflict upon each other, simply shook his head.
“Who is to say?” he said as Atlas scratched his head worriedly.
“One thing is for certain – he can only be up to no good if he has returned to these lands, so we must be vigilant. We must be very cautious of young Atlas because if Bexwell manages to remove him, he could possibly try to decimate the entire family and try to take control of Trastamara.”
That was what Markus was thinking, only he didn’t want to frighten Atlas. The young man had enough to deal with, and adjust to, without a rogue knight out to kill him.
“Then we should send word to all Trastamara properties about this,” Markus said, looking at Atlas. “Would you not agree?”
Atlas was trying very hard not to look unnerved about the situation. “I do,” he said. “I…”
He was cut off when there was a great pounding on the solar door, a frantic beating until Kieran opened the panel to reveal Aleanor standing there, her pale face flushed. She stumbled into the chamber, wringing her hands.
“My mother,” she gasped. “There are men – out in the bailey – they will hurt her!”
Immediately, everyone was rushing towards the door, towards Aleanor, who shrank away as men rushed in her direction. Cassius happened to be the closest to her and he reached out, gently grasping her by the arm.
“Where, sweetheart?” he demanded softly, swiftly. “Where are they?”
Aleanor looked at him, wide-eyed and terrified. “That way,” she said, pointing with her free arm. “The tower near the smithy stalls.”
Markus was already out the door, drawing his weapon. “The southeast tower,” he said. “Move.”
Markus de Wolfe’s commands were not meant to be disobeyed.
The knights unsheathed weapons, charging out into the night.
Markus was in the lead with Cassius right behind him.
He was able to see enough beneath the silver moon to see Amabella hit a soldier holding her arm and then run away in his direction.
He could also see a group of soldiers behind her, gathered by the tower.
Rage surged.
He didn’t know why she was on this side of the bailey, alone. There would be time for questions later. All that mattered was that he punished the men who assaulted her.
Kill them.
Markus paused long enough to ask Amabella if she was well and when she nodded her head quickly, he charged after the other knights, now beginning to engage the soldiers who first tried to run, but then decided to turn and fight.
But it turned out to be more of a fight than Markus had expected.