Chapter Four
Bristol Castle occupied a prime location at the bend of the River Avon.
It had an enormous moat around it that was fed not only from the River Avon, but also from the River Frome, which ran slightly to the north and bisected the town.
It was an impressive property of stone and battlements, and extremely defensible.
There were several gatehouses because there were several bridges across the moat, all of them disposable in the case of an attack.
They could either be burned or pushed into the river.
Jareth had to admit that it was a remarkable castle.
It wasn’t large, but it was sturdy and well maintained.
The six knights went to what looked to be the main gatehouse, with a rather narrow bridge that spanned the moat, about fifteen feet above the murky green water.
The horses could only go across single file, so Jareth went first. When he came to the gatehouse, he called up to the sentries and identified himself and the men that were with him.
He asked to see the commander of the castle, in the name of the king, and identified himself further as a royal knight.
His tunic, and the standards of the others, confirmed it.
But he didn’t have to go to so much trouble—someone in the gatehouse recognized his name.
They ran off to fetch the commander.
As the Six stood there in single file, waiting for admittance, Jareth found himself looking off toward the city center, which was not far from the castle.
It was off to the west and he could see many small fishing vessels moored on the banks of the river.
He knew that the River Avon eventually wound its way to the sea, making Bristol a port city.
The birds were circling above the vessels, diving down to pilfer from the catches brought ashore or capture loose fish scattered on the rocky bank.
His gaze then moved to the city with its sturdy buildings and well-kept avenues.
It was the city his mother had grown up in.
Odd how he’d never spent any time here. His world had only been his father’s side of the family, and Cornwall had been their domain. As Jareth continued to wait for the commander to appear, thoughts of his father had his focus returning to his uncle and everything the man had left him.
He wondered if he’d ever get over the shock.
Truthfully, Jareth was still having a difficult time believing that in all of his years, he had never heard of the fact that his uncle and his grandfather had a brothel for a business.
He knew about the shipping, and he knew about the merchant business, and if he thought hard enough, he could recall his mother saying something about other ventures in the city, but there had never been any mention of a brothel.
He was coming to wonder if his mother had even known.
Part of him hoped that she hadn’t.
So, how did he feel about the inheritance?
The more he thought about it, the more resistant he was.
The more shocked and embarrassed he was.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as if he could pick and choose what he wanted to inherit versus what he didn’t want to inherit.
The inheritance laws in England were strict for a reason, but that usually pertained to property of the nobility so dying old men who controlled their world couldn’t do what they wanted with it.
The law always had the last word. He didn’t think there was any law that said a nephew had to accept a brothel as part of an inheritance from an uncle who was lesser nobility.
Chester de Long, as far as he knew, had only inherited a very minor title from his father, Lord Easton.
It was only a regional title with no real clout in the grand scheme of things, but it occurred to Jareth that now he was Lord Easton.
That would have been a proud moment if the title hadn’t come with a trollop house.
He wondered if this day could get any worse.
As he was mulling over the shameful course his life had taken, the portcullis began to lift. He dismounted his horse to greet the commander only to be faced with a man he hadn’t seen in a couple of years.
Hugh de Winter grinned brightly at the sight of Henry’s personal bodyguards.
“Jareth!” he said happily, running over to hug the man. “Welcome to Bristol! And you brought the Six with you!”
Jareth smiled weakly at the younger brother of Davyss de Winter, head of what was commonly known as the de Winter war machine, an army so powerful that Henry had depended on it regularly for the vast majority of his reign.
During the time of Simon de Montfort’s rebellion, the strength from Davyss and the de Winter army had been invaluable.
Jareth had to admit that he was glad to see Hugh.
“Are you the garrison commander now?” he said, surprised. “We’d heard that de Winter had taken over the property, but to see a de Winter himself at the helm? Astonishing.”
Hugh was an emotional and exuberant man, never afraid to give his opinion or question something he didn’t like.
He was the embodiment of honesty even if honesty wasn’t the best course of action.
No man in his right mind would resist or be aggressive toward Hugh for two very good reasons—he was hell with a sword and his brother was even worse.
No man challenged a de Winter and lived to tell the tale.
But a challenge was clearly the last thing from Hugh’s mind as he moved to Aidric and Britt and finally Dirk, greeting them happily.
“Gentle knights, welcome,” he said, shaking hands. “In answer to your question, Jareth, I’m not the garrison commander. I am here to relieve Andrew Catesby. You remember Andrew?”
Jareth did indeed remember the tall blond knight who had served the House of de Winter for years. “I know him,” he said. “Andrew is the commander?”
Hugh nodded. “He is,” he said. “But his father passed away recently, so Andrew and his brother, Edmund, have gone home to bury their father. I am here until such time as they return.”
“Then I am glad to find you here,” Jareth said. “How’s the outpost? Quiet?”
Hugh nodded. “For the most part,” he said. “There are some politically opposed families in the area that must be watched so they do not get into a tangle, and there are also pirates who roam the waters this time of year, so I’m told.”
“You haven’t seen them?”
“Nay,” Hugh said. “None of them. Too bad, too. I was hoping to have a little party with one or more of them.”
Jareth smirked. “I can only imagine the hospitality you would show them.”
Hugh laughed. “Only the best,” he insisted. “But let us speak of other things. I must know why all of you are here. And where are Torran and Kent?”
“Torran is the Earl of Keddington now,” Jareth said. “Surely you knew that.”
Hugh nodded. “I remember hearing he had married well,” he said. “And Kent?”
“He married a woman from the Welsh marches and has chosen to stay there for the time being,” Jareth said. “In their absence, we are joined by Orion Payton-Forrester and Stefan de Lohr. Of course, you know them.”
Hugh hadn’t caught sight of either one of those men because he’d been focused on those from the original Guard of Six. But the mention of Stefan and Orion saw the smile vanishing from his face.
“I know de Lohr,” he said as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “They are kin to the Earl of East Anglia, a man who tries to rule over my brother’s lands any chance he gets. Stefan, I’ll not speak with you at all, do you hear me?”
Stefan hadn’t, so Britt had to tell him what had been said. That had Stefan rolling his eyes. “No great loss,” he said. “I like Davyss better than his idiot brother, anyway.”
Hugh heard him. His dark eyebrows flew up in outrage. “Is that so?” he said. “Just for that, everyone can have wine but you. Oh, and Payton-Forrester. That bastard still owes me money from a game of chance at The Pox over three years ago.”
The Pox was the infamous tavern on the banks of the River Thames.
It was a gambling hall, but also a drinking hall.
Every fighting man in England had been there at one time or another because not only could they find a game of chance there, any time of the day or night, but The Pox also had the finest food around.
Odd for such a seedy place. Orion, much like Stefan, didn’t care much for Hugh.
“I paid you and you know it,” he said loudly. “And I wouldn’t drink your wine if it was the last drink in England. If you’ve had your grimy fingers on it, then it’s probably rank.”
That only succeeded in making Hugh angrier. “You never paid me.”
“I paid for your meals and your room for four days and nights,” Orion said. “You agreed it was payment enough.”
“I never did!”
Orion started to charge forward, jabbing a finger at Hugh. “Then let us settle this here and now, you cheat,” he said. “Davyss de Winter’s pissy little brother will not call me a liar and emerge unscathed.”
Britt and Stefan held him back as Jareth and Aidric pushed Hugh back into the gatehouse. “Come,” Jareth said, trying to distract him. “I’ve come here with a question I need answered. Do not let Orion distract you.”
Hugh didn’t appreciate being pushed around, but Jareth was doing a good job of it because he was quite strong. He wasn’t the tallest man around, but he had a strength that rivaled that of Samson’s.
“What question?” he said as they entered the bailey of Bristol Castle. Digging his heels in, he came to a halt. “Stop shoving, Jareth. What question do you have?”
“What do you know about Aphrodite’s Feast?”
That wasn’t a question Hugh had been expecting. A bit bewildered by the rapid shift in focus, he furrowed his brow and looked at Jareth strangely.
“The Feast?” he repeated. “Why do you ask?”
“Just tell me what you know.”
The subject seemed to have Hugh properly distracted from Orion, because his entire demeanor changed. “It’s a fantasy world,” he said. “It’s a place of beautiful women, wine, and song. It’s a place where a man can have anything he wants for a price.”
“Then you’ve been there?”
“Of course I’ve been there,” Hugh said. “Why? Are you heading there now? I will go with you if you are. But Payton-Forrester is not invited.”
Hugh didn’t seem at all distressed talking about it. In fact, he seemed eager to go. His words, his explanation of Aphrodite’s Feast, mirrored Henbury’s. Jareth scratched his forehead, trying to figure out how to phrase the situation he found himself in.
“But it’s a brothel,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
Hugh snorted. “You’ve never seen a brothel like this in your life,” he said. “It’s more than a brothel, Jareth. It’s a place that makes you think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“But you have paid a woman to have her in your bed… haven’t you?”
Hugh shook his head. “Nay, because I promised my brother I would not, since he is trying to solicit a marriage for me with Roger Mortimer’s daughter,” he said.
“I promised him I would keep myself clean of scandal, at least for the time being. But that has not stopped me from going to The Feast and spending time with an utterly divine creature named Melaina. She sings like an angel and lets me eat my meals off her belly. Literally, she lies on the table and lets me eat whatever I want off her belly. It’s the most seductive thing you’ve ever seen. ”
“So… you like the place?”
“Love it. Why the questions?”
“Because I have inherited it.”
Hugh’s eyes widened. He stared at Jareth until his mouth finally popped open. “You inherited Chester de Long’s property?” he gasped. “You?”
“Me.”
“My God, how?”
“He is my mother’s brother. He had no heirs, so he chose me.”
That had Hugh throwing his arms around Jareth’s neck jubilantly. “Such great fortune for you, my friend!” he said. “We must go to The Feast and celebrate this instant!”
But Jareth wasn’t quite so jubilant. “Wait,” he said, pushing Hugh away. “It is utterly shameful that I have inherited a brothel. I do not want to ‘celebrate’ it.”
Hugh was puzzled by the reaction. “Have you even been there?” he said. “Do you know what you are saying?”
Jareth sighed sharply. “Nay, I’ve not been there, but I know that inheriting a brothel is scandalous at best,” he said. “Why would you be so happy for me to be shamed like that?”
“It is not a shame, I assure you.”
“What would your mother say if you inherited such a place?”
Hugh shrugged. “Lady Katherine de Winter would never visit a place like that herself, but she also would not discourage me from having a source of income,” he said.
“A very big source. Do you understand that, Jareth? If you do not, then I cannot explain it to you. We must go to The Feast immediately so you can see it for yourself.”
That was what everyone had been telling him. Jareth knew he had little choice in the matter. Evidently, Aphrodite’s Feast was something that had to be seen to be believed, so he resigned himself to the fact that everyone wanted to see the place except him.
The whole situation was positively ridiculous.
“Very well,” he said, openly perturbed. “Let us go see this thing that I do not want. Lead the way, Hugh.”
Gleefully, Hugh did.