Chapter Twenty-One
“Let me see if I understand this,” Christopher said as he grimly surveyed the tattered remains of the de Efford tent. “You heard the screaming and came into the tent, where you found Harald dead and Lance bending over him.”
He was addressing Essien, who was holding Catalina tightly, trying to calm the woman down.
The truth was that the tent had been destroyed because of the fight between him and Lance, though he’d mostly destroyed it throwing Lance around until he finally rendered the man nearly unconscious.
Somewhere in the process of that fight, Rhys and Maddoc had joined in because they were in the competitors’ encampment and had heard the noise.
Also joining in had been William, Paris, and Kieran, who had taken Lance out of the tent and beaten him within an inch of his life when Essien told him what he’d seen.
After that, they took him over to the vault of Lioncross, where the man was currently locked up.
But he’d left a hell of a mess in his wake.
“Aye, my lord,” Essien said, his entire body tight with distress.
“Catalina tells me that Harald must have thought Lance was trying to harm her and attacked him. What you see of Harald happened when Lance defended himself, only I did not know that until well after de Wolfe and Hage took Lance to the vault.”
“So Harald attacked Lance?” Christopher asked. “With what?”
Both Catalina and Essien pointed to the iron sconce halfway across the tent.
“That,” Catalina said, sniffling. “Lance and I were speaking, and when I stepped back from him, I tripped. I was on the ground when my father entered. He must have thought Lance was attacking me, so he believed that he was defending me.”
Christopher nodded, digesting what he’d been told, digesting the horrible scene around him.
David was standing next to his brother, watching Alexander and Rhys as they tried to figure out how to extract Harald’s head from the weaponry without making more of a mess.
Maddoc had gone with William and the others to put Lance in the vault while Peter and Ashton, who’d shown up after the fact, spoke to the guards outside to find out what those men had seen.
Meanwhile, the mass competition was about a half-hour off and they could hear the crowds already at the competition field. Christopher knew that all of these knights wanted to compete, so he had to make a decision.
“Right,” he finally said. “I will speak with de Kerque and see what he says about this. Essien, you should take your wife and leave this mess. I’ll have my men clean it up and prepare Harald for his return to Eckington.”
Essien nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
He pulled Catalina along with him as he moved to exit the tent, but Christopher’s gaze trailed after him. He stopped Essien before the man could leave completely.
“Es,” he said softly. “You do realize what has happened, don’t you?”
Essien looked at him with some confusion. “My lord?”
“You are now the Earl of Mercia,” Christopher said. “These men, Harald’s men, are now yours. All of this is yours. When you are ready, you have some decisions to make.”
Essien had to think on that revelation. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d now inherited the titles.
In fact, that had been the furthest thing from his mind.
He looked at Catalina, who was looking back at him with equal surprise at the realization.
But he simply nodded, mostly to Christopher, and quit the battered tent, leaving Christopher standing with David.
Once they were gone, David shook his head at the state of the tent once more before leaning over Rhys and Alexander as they worked like a pair of surgeons on Harald’s head.
“Lady Mercia said that Harald fell into the weapons?” he said. “I suppose that is not impossible, but he must have had quite a bit of momentum to do it.”
Christopher was watching the men also. “This situation is very strange.”
“Why?”
Christopher also shook his head. “I am not entirely sure,” he said. “Harald was adamant that his daughter wed, so she did. I heard from Addax that he’d evidently released le Kerque from his oath because the man had designs on his daughter, and when she married Essien, le Kerque felt cheated.”
“And?”
“And why was Lance back here with Lady Mercia?” Christopher said. “I did not ask her why he was here, though I should have. Christ… is it possible she was having an affair with le Kerque? Did Essien step into a twisted situation, something that was my mistake?”
“I doubt it,” David said. “But I definitely think you need answers from Lady Mercia when she calms down.”
“Something tells me that her husband will, too.”
*
Christopher was right.
Essien did need answers.
He took Catalina toward the tournament field because the girls were over there, somewhere, with Addax.
They knew nothing about what had just happened in the de Efford tent.
Truthfully, Essien wasn’t really sure what had happened himself, but he’d refrained from interrogating Catalina about it because she’d been so hysterical.
She wasn’t hysterical any longer.
He came to a halt and released her from his embrace.
“Now,” he said quietly, “we are out of earshot of everyone and you have regained your composure, so I have a question.”
Catalina nodded. “Of course, Essien,” she said. “I will answer anything.”
“Why was Lance in the tent with you, alone, as soon as I left?”
She could hear the hazard in his tone and it occurred to her what he might be thinking—that there was something clandestine going on between her and Lance, something she’d been hiding from him the entire time. Of course, that wasn’t the case.
It was worse than anything he could imagine.
Her eyes began to well up again.
“My God,” she breathed. “I think we are in trouble, Essien.”
He frowned. “What trouble?”
She was still sniffling as she produced the bent cross, extending it to him. “Lance brought me that.”
He took it curiously, looking it over. “What is it?”
Catalina wiped her eyes. “It is why Lance came to see me,” she said. “He said that there was a man lurking around Lioncross and Lance thought he was a thief. He confronted the man, who proceeded to tell him that he had come here because he was looking for me.”
Essien still wasn’t clear. “What does that have to do with this cross?”
“Because the man needed help in identifying it,” she said. Then she broke down in tears. “Essien, you do not understand. I gave that cross to Alfred when he departed for France.”
Now, the situation was starting to make some sense. Horrible, disorienting sense. “What?” Essien spat. “This belonged to Alfred de Barenton?”
Tears streamed down her face. “It did,” she said. “There is an inscription on the back.”
Shocked, Essien flipped the cross over. He could barely make out the etching. “Allez avec Dieu,” he read, his voice trembling. “Go with God.”
Catalina was sobbing. “Go with God,” she confirmed.
“I had a goldsmith in Worcester put those words there. Lance said that the man did not remember who he was because of a terrible accident, but somehow, he was led here, to me. I do not know how he came here, but he did. He wants to know if I know who gave him that cross, and I am afraid… I am afraid it is Alfred returned, Essien. I’m afraid my husband has come back. ”
She was weeping so hard at that point that he could hardly understand her, but he understood enough. It was absolutely astonishing. He could see how upset she was and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
He didn’t know what else to do.
“I have not asked what happened to Alfred,” he said hoarsely. “I knew you would tell me in your own time, but now, I must ask. What happened to him?”
Catalina clung to him. “Alfred had a brother in France, a warlord, who had property,” she wept.
“His brother needed help with a warring neighbor, so Alfred took one hundred men and sailed to Calais, only he never made it. I received word that the ship went up in flames within sight of Calais and all aboard were lost. He was burned alive.”
Essien was starting to see where this was going. “So you never had a body to bury?”
“Nay,” she whispered. “The ship sank with all aboard, or so I was told.”
“Who told you?”
“His brother.”
“Then it is possible Alfred survived and is only now returning.”
“That is my fear.”
Essien felt sick. Sicker than he’d ever felt in his life, more desperate and disappointed than he’d ever felt in his life. In fact, his entire life was playing out before his eyes, and if what Catalina said was true, and Alfred was alive, then the rest of his life would be without her.
There was no way he’d be able to survive the pain.
There had to be a way out of this.
“Listen to me,” he said, struggling against the gloom that threatened to consume him. “We do not know any of this for certain. You said that Lance brought you the cross?”
She nodded, wiping at her nose. “He did,” she said.
“That is why he was in the tent, Essien. He must have seen you leave, because he came in right after you were gone. I told him to leave, but he did not. I hope you know that I would never do anything to shame you or hurt you. And you certainly know how I feel about Lance, so there is no love lost there. I promise you, there was nothing clandestine about his appearance.”
He nodded, kissing her forehead and pulling her into a gentle embrace. “I know,” he said, though he’d felt guilty for even entertaining such a thing. “I should not have sounded as if I did not trust you, for I do. But we have a problem to solve.”
“We do.”