Chapter Nine #2
Her smile broke through, letting him know that she had been jesting. “Aye, I would be very sorry if they did,” she said. “May I remain here and wait for you?”
He shook his head and turned her for the palfrey she had ridden. “You may not,” he said flatly. Once they reached the animal, he lifted her up onto the horse. “Return with the escort and wait for me there.”
He started to turn away, but she reached out and grasped his arm. She ended up catching a handful of his long hair, and as he turned to look at her, his arm slipped from her grasp but his hair did not. He held it, fingering it, as she gazed into his eyes.
“Be careful, Douglas,” she murmured. “Please.”
There was a pull between them at that moment that was difficult to describe.
Something liquid and powerful, like the currents of a river, pulling and pushing with unseen force.
It was the very first time the jesting, the conflict, the denials had not been an obstacle between them and all they could feel was something warm and real.
It was real.
Douglas could feel the impact.
“I will,” he said after a moment, taking her hand away from his hair and kissing it before letting it go. “Go back now. I will see you later.”
Mira nodded, perhaps reluctantly, and gave her horse a little kick to move it forward. The escort was already moving away, but once she caught up to the carriage, the soldiers forming the escort closed in around her for protection.
That was all Douglas needed to see.
Trying to shake off the power of that moment between them, he turned to Jonathan, Davyss, and the eight soldiers left behind.
“We are going to pay the Tatworth men a little visit,” he said, crooking his finger. “Follow me, but do not draw your weapon unless they draw or I give you a command. Clear?”
Ten heads nodded, though the knights knew that Davyss would like nothing better than to feed Lespada some flesh and blood today.
In fact, the young knight had his hand on the hilt and the weapon was already halfway out of the sheath.
Jonathan had to push the weapon back down again, much to Davyss’ displeasure.
But he understood.
Douglas had the Tatworth men in his sights as the group crossed the marketplace and headed toward the corner where the defeated enemy was located.
As Douglas walked, he reached into the purse at his side, the same one with the coins, and pulled forth a strip of cloth.
Gathering his hair back, for it was long enough to cover his chest and then some, he tied it up with the strip of cloth so it wouldn’t get in the way if there was a fight.
That was something he always did. He had his mother’s hair, thick and beautiful, and she had never had the heart to cut his as a child.
The master knights of Kenilworth, his trainers, had tried to force him to cut it but he wouldn’t, so he’d gotten in the habit of tying it back so an enemy couldn’t grab it and use it against him.
When the hair went back, Douglas meant business.
“You,” he said loudly as he came upon the men that were still gathered on the corner. “Identify yourselves.”
The seven men, who had been laughing and drinking since they were standing near a tavern, didn’t react at first. They didn’t realize that Douglas was talking to them.
But one man noticed and, with fear on his face, tapped the man next to him and pointed.
Very quickly, the men realized that a heavily armed knight was addressing them and was backed up by two more heavily armed knights and several soldiers.
The man in the front, who had originally had his back to Douglas, turned around and appeared not to have any real concern with what he was facing.
He looked Douglas up and down.
“You first,” he said.
His men burst into laughter, but it was nervous laughter. More than that, they were starting to back away. Before Douglas could reply, a small, thin man from the tavern next door suddenly darted out and pointed at the drinking Tatworth men.
“They stole from me!” he cried. “Those drinks are mine. They took them and would not pay!”
Douglas looked at the old, frightened man. “They’ve not paid at all?”
The man shook his head. He was dressed in broadcloth that was soaked and stained, and he had a rag that he’d been using to dry off his hands and would have looked like any other happy citizen, but his face was red with anger and he was pointing furiously to the collection of Tatworth men.
“They came into my tavern and demanded drink,” he said. “I provided it and they’ve been steadily drinking since the nooning hour. But they came outside with their drink and have refused to pay me for any of it.”
Douglas looked at the man who seemed to be in the lead. He was older, with bad skin and dirty blond hair.
“Is that true?” Douglas asked.
The man grinned, revealing big, yellowed teeth. “We’re not done yet,” he said. “We’ll pay when we’re done.”
Douglas didn’t believe him for a moment. “Pay the man.”
“When we’re done.”
“Do it now or I’ll take your money and do it for you, plus something extra for the man’s trouble.”
The threat of physical violence was quite real. The man in the lead looked Douglas over to try to determine if he was simply being a bully, or perhaps he was only bluffing, but somehow, he didn’t think so. He snorted rudely, pointing to Douglas’ de Lohr tunic.
“Hereford,” he said. “I’ve seen that before.”
“If you have, then you know I mean what I say. Pay the man now.”
It took the man several long seconds to decide that was probably the best course of action for him and his men.
There was a nearly even number of men on both sides, with the knight’s group having a slight advantage, but more than that, the man in the lead knew that he and his friends were no match for three heavily armed knights.
That made his decision for him.
With another snort, this one of frustration and irritation, the man yanked his purse from a pocket and opened it, tossing coins onto the ground at the tavernkeeper’s feet.
“There,” he said. “Take your damnable money so the de Lohr dog will be satisfied.”
Douglas cocked an eyebrow. “You have a big mouth for a man who is looking death in the face,” he said.
“Because you are clearly too stupid to realize that, let me tell you what sort of danger you are in. I am Douglas de Lohr, son of the Earl of Hereford and Worcester. My companion to my right, this enormous knight, is the brother to the Earl of Wolverton. He is a de Wolfe. He is also the brother to William de Wolfe, the greatest knight in the north of England. But mostly, this man is a Blackchurch-trained knight and he can kill each man standing with you without any help from me. The other knight is the heir to the House of de Winter. You know the de Winter war machine. He may be young, but I assure you, he is quite deadly.”
The revelations pouring forth had the man in the lead standing up to take notice. His comrades were already trying to flee, but the de Lohr soldiers were stopping them. No one was going anywhere. The man tossed his drink aside and put up his hands in a supplicating gesture.
“We are causing no trouble,” he said. “We’ve done no harm. Why do you harass us?”
“You tried to steal drink from the tavernkeep,” Douglas pointed out. “You’ve yet to tell me who you are. How do I know you are not here to cause harm or create damage? If you do not tell me, I must assume the worst.”
That caused the man to rethink his stance. “My name is Meriwether,” he said. “I serve Rickard Tatworth.”
“Ah,” Douglas said. “Now we have an answer. And your friends? All Tatworth men?”
“Aye, my lord.”
For the first time, Meriwether was starting to show Douglas some respect. Now that he’d tipped his hand and introduced all of the strength he brought to a fight, he seemed more willing to talk.
“What are you doing in Axminster?” Douglas asked.
Meriwether slowly produced a dagger he’d had tucked away. “Because I commissioned this from one of the smithies a few months ago,” he said, making sure to hold it by the blade carefully. “I’ve come to town to pay for it.”
“Did you actually pay for it?”
Meriwether snorted again. “The smithy is bigger and stronger than you are,” he said. “Aye, I paid him. I had to unless I wanted my head smashed.”
“But you sought to cheat the tavernkeep, who is not bigger and stronger than the smithy.”
Meriwether lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal gesture. “I told you that I was going to pay him,” he said. “I did.”
Douglas gave him a disbelieving look, but before he could reply, it seemed like a gang of people came up behind him and, suddenly, a woman was flying at Meriwether with some kind of club in her hand. Before Douglas could intervene, she crowned Meriwether with it and an all-out brawl was sparked.
“He stole from me!” the woman was screaming as she hit him again before Douglas could grab her. “He stole from my stall! I want my things back!”
Punches were flying and people were rolling around in the dirt as some merchants descended on the men from Tatworth.
Douglas, Jonathan, Davyss, and the rest of the soldiers were forced to jump in and start separating the combatants.
Douglas narrowly avoided being hit in the head with the same club, which turned out to be not a club at all, but a stone pestle to grind grain.
And the woman’s aim with it was true.
“Stop,” he commanded, taking it from her as he pulled her away from the fighting. “Lady, you will control yourself. What’s this about?”
“Him!” the woman shouted, pointing at Meriwether. “He came into my stall and scooped things up with his hands and then threatened me when I tried to stop him. I will stop him now!”
She pulled away from Douglas, heading again for Meriwether, who was just starting to come around, but the fight was dwindling by now and Douglas indicated for the woman to stand aside while he hauled a dazed Meriwether to his feet.