Chapter Eight #3
“I’m sure you are weary of listening to me boast,” he said. “I’ve not had the chance to tell you how sorry I am that you ended up at Axminster. You know my father offered to speak to Bigod on your behalf. You do not have to stay here.”
Jonathan held up a gloved hand to silence him. “I know,” he said. “And I appreciate it. But it seems that we are at an end.”
“Just because he thinks you seduced his niece?”
“I did seduce her.”
“Because you’re in love with the girl,” Davyss said. “Everyone knows that.”
Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the pain that the subject provoked. “It does not matter anymore,” he said. “I was foolish to have pursued her. She was meant for someone else and I knew that from the start.”
Davyss was watching him as he pretended not to care when the truth was that he cared a great deal.
Jonathan and Lady Elizabeth Bigod was a subject of gossip up through the king’s court, something that embarrassed his brother, the Earl of Wolverhampton, but the king had been surprisingly sympathetic.
Roger Bigod, however, was not.
“She was in a contract marriage with an old man,” Davyss pointed out with disgust. “Bigod wanted his niece to marry the Flemish warlord simply for the money and military support when the truth was that she would have been much better off with a de Wolfe.”
“Davyss, please.”
Davyss knew he should shut up, but the entire situation had him outraged.
“Lady Elizabeth loved you, Wolfie,” he said, slamming a gloved fist into an open palm.
“She should have been allowed to marry the man she loved, but instead, Bigod tossed her into a ship and sent her across the sea to her betrothed when he discovered your affair, and he is punishing you by sending you to do menial work. It simply isn’t fair. ”
“Fair or not, that is his decision.”
Davyss couldn’t understand why Jonathan was being so blasé about it. “You should go back to Warstone Castle and serve your brother,” he said. “Mayhap that is where you belong, on the Welsh marches where you can be of better use instead of wasting away in Norfolk’s arsenal.”
Jonathan caught sight of Eric as the man headed toward them from the northern side of the city where he’d evidently been. “If you want to know the truth, I have already considered that,” he said. “I might go home again. Or I might ask Douglas if I can accompany him back to Lioncross Abbey.”
“Your brother would not be disappointed if you did not go home?”
Jonathan smiled thinly. “I take orders much better from others,” he said. “No one likes to have your brother ordering you about, especially since we are twins and it is only by virtue of my birth order that I am not the earl.”
Davyss could see his point. “I’ve never met your brother,” he said. “Does he look like you?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “We have the same coloring, but Robert is shorter than I am. He is a trained knight, but he was better at diplomacy like our father was. He was never a warrior.”
“But your younger brother is.”
“William is a god. You know that.”
Davyss grinned. “I’ve not met him, either.”
“Pray it is not in battle, for you, young de Winter, would lose.”
Davyss chuckled, patting the gorgeous broadsword strapped to his side. Lespada, it was called, the hereditary weapon of every firstborn male in his family line. The sword was well over one hundred years old, but it looked new from the good care it had been given.
“Nothing can defeat Lespada,” he said confidently. “Not even your great brother.”
Jonathan lifted an eyebrow. “You think so, do you?” he said. “I would like to see that. Should I arrange it?”
Davyss looked away, pretending to be uninterested. Of course he wasn’t willing to fight the great William de Wolfe. But it was easy to be brave when he was hundreds of miles away from the man. No chance of running into him.
Unless his brother arranged it.
“Why waste our time?” he said. “Look; there’s le Kerque. I wonder where he went?”
Jonathan grinned at Davyss’ change in subject. “I do not know,” he said. “But I have a need to speak to him.”
With Davyss standing guard as the women continued to barter, Jonathan made his way over to Eric, who was carrying a sack of something in his arms. He intercepted Eric before he could get to the women.
“Le Kerque,” he said. “I wanted a moment to speak with you, but we’ve not had the chance since leaving the castle. Can you spare a moment?”
Eric nodded, shifting the sack in his arms. “Of course,” he said. “What is it?”
Jonathan lowered his voice. “Yesterday when I was instructing the men,” he said, “I was incredibly disrespectful to you, and I would like to apologize for that. I have no excuse other than I was frustrated at the time and let it show. It will not happen again.”
Eric clearly hadn’t been expecting the apology. After a moment, he smiled. “Unnecessary, de Wolfe,” he said. “You were correct. I do hold my sword poorly.”
“You hold it in a way that is comfortable to you. I should not judge that.”
“You were right in instructing the men not to hold it that way.”
“I am certain they would take sword instruction from you quite readily.”
Eric’s smile faded. “Nay,” he said. “I do not teach that any longer. I have not in some time.”
“May I ask why?” Jonathan asked. “Because of an old injury? I know you used to serve Henry, long ago.”
“How did you know that?”
“I heard one of the men speaking about it.”
Eric’s gaze lingered on him for a moment as his mood began to sour.
“Nay,” he said. “No injury. I am certain a man like you, a Blackchurch knight, would not understand, but not all of us are as strong as you are. I was badly injured in battle years ago, and since then I cannot bear to pick up a sword. I have not fought in a battle since that time.”
Jonathan frowned. “But you were part of the siege of Axminster,” he said. “I saw you on the wall.”
“Giving orders only,” Eric said quietly.
“I tell men what to do. I simply do not lead by example. That is why my sergeants give the men weapons training. If I try to pick up a sword, I break into a sweat. I am not proud of it, but it is the way of things. I’m sure you can imagine how humiliating it is to have you and de Lohr here, protecting a castle I should be more than capable of protecting. ”
Jonathan could see that they were on a sensitive subject so he simply shook his head. “We are simply here to help,” he said. “I swear that we never intended to humiliate you.”
Eric shrugged as if he didn’t quite believe that. “It is what Hereford wanted, anyway,” he said. “But your apology is noted. You did not have to do it. I did not expect you to.”
“Why not?”
“Because why would a knight like you apologize to a knight like me? I am beneath such things.”
Jonathan frowned, preparing to deny that statement, but Isabel caught sight of Eric and called to him.
He quickly excused himself, going to Isabel, who took the sack from him.
She peered into it and, delighted, began pulling out fat purple plums. She began handing them out to her ladies as Jonathan watched, realizing that le Kerque had been reduced to a figurehead, a messenger, a servant to Lady Isabel, and little else because of his fear of weapons.
Jonathan had seen men like that before, men who had a brush with death and found the prospect of facing it again terrifying.
A sad situation, indeed.
Pondering that very thing, he slowly made his way back over to Davyss, wondering if he could possibly help le Kerque.
He planned to tell Douglas what the man had told him, and perhaps together they could figure something out.
He had just reached Davyss, who was commenting on the fact that he, too, wanted one of those giant plums, when Eric was suddenly in their midst.
“Listen to me,” he hissed. “Off to your left, near the intersection of the main road and another avenue that leads to the church, are several Tatworth men. I have already suggested to Lady Isabel that she start moving her women back to the escort.”
Jonathan and Davyss immediately looked over at the indicated area.
There were crowds of people all around, including merchants and their stalls, so it was difficult to get a clear field of vision.
However, they could see a group of men standing near a corner, men who seemed to be having a lively conversation.
“That group over there?” Jonathan asked. “There are seven of them, I think.”
“Aye,” Eric said, spying the same men. “I recognize at least four of them. They usually escorted Rickard Tatworth on his visits to Axminster.”
Jonathan could see that the men were armed. “They are not wearing Tatworth standards,” he said. “Curtis disbanded the entire army. Half went with him and half with de Winter, so who are those men?”
“Knights,” Eric said. He was clearly nervous. “Leominster may have taken the soldiers, but he clearly did not take the knights.”
“Will they know Lady Isabel on sight?”
“They will.”
“Damn,” Jonathan growled. “Eric, you and Davyss move her and the ladies quickly. There is no time to waste. Get them back to the escort and start moving out. Do not wait for me.”
They were already moving, with Jonathan practically pushing Eric in the direction of the women. “Where are you going?” Eric asked.
“To find Douglas,” Jonathan said. “He is wearing a de Lohr tunic, and if they see him, they might confront him.”
“Isn’t he back with the escort?” Eric asked.
Jonathan shook his head. “I saw him and Lady Mira head off toward the north, where the bakers are,” he said, indicating the edge of the market because the escort was on the other side, tucked under the trees. “Go, now. Get back to the castle.”
Davyss was already running up ahead where the women were scurrying back to the escort.
Eric was on his heels, and Jonathan, keeping an eye on the Tatworth men, tried to stay lost in the crowd as he headed in the direction he’d seen Douglas and Mira go.
He, too, was wearing a standard of the army that defeated Tatworth, so he was trying to stay hidden.
He had to find Douglas.