Chapter Ten
He called himself Zeus.
Of course, it wasn’t his real name. His real name involved a very recognizable family name, something he’d hidden from for many years, ever since he had sided with Simon de Montfort and his family had sided with the king.
His father had distinctly told him he never wanted to see him again and, in fact, seemed to wish his son dead.
That was what the war with de Montfort had done.
It had separated families and friends and had left the country nearly bankrupt.
It was only seven years ago, but the effects were quite lasting.
That included a Kenilworth-trained knight who was currently serving in a brothel.
It would have been shameful had it not been so lucrative.
And that was what Zeus wanted at this point in time.
If he couldn’t serve in a prestigious household, at least he could make some money.
He was too old to start over again and too set in his ways to change.
Serving at Aphrodite’s Feast wasn’t so bad, after all.
He had six highly trained men to command, and that included two who had been Blackchurch trained.
The group of men under him were no slouches, and they made a fortune doing what they did, which mostly included screening the men who entered, looking for female companionship, and disposing of those who didn’t behave properly.
Oddly enough, and given the fact that Aphrodite’s Feast exchanged copious amounts of money on any given day, they’d never had a genuine threat.
That was saying something.
There were hordes of pirates on the west coast of England and Wales, but they never seemed to bother the de Long holdings.
In fact, Zeus knew with certainty that a few pirates had visited them as clients over the years, indulging in the good food and fine company.
Perhaps there was some respect for a place like Aphrodite’s Feast that kept them from trying to sack it, but even if they tried, the building was quite fortified and designed to keep marauders out.
There were no windows on the lower floor and the only doors were heavily fortified with iron.
Even if they burned the wood, the iron would remain.
If, by some miracle, an enemy managed to make it inside, all of the stairwells had iron grates.
Every chamber had a door that was largely the same as the entry door—iron and wood.
Each chamber could function as a cell or a fortress, depending on how an enemy entered, so the idea of greedy pirates trying to roust the place didn’t concern Zeus or The Guardians in the least.
But one thing did concern him.
A new lord.
He hadn’t met the man yet because he’d been taking his usual sleep period when Chester de Long’s nephew and heir arrived with a stable of studly knights behind him.
By the time he rose, the new lord and his men were sequestered in the feasting room and didn’t want to be interrupted.
He’d remained up, all night, as was usual, but somehow he never came into contact with Lord Jareth, as he’d been told that was the man’s name.
He was one of Henry’s elite knights and, quite frankly, Zeus was fairly certain he’d fought against the man in any number of battles with de Montfort.
He already had to deal with Anosia, whose husband had been killed at Lewes, and now he was going to have to face a liege who had also fought for the king’s cause.
He hoped he wouldn’t be in search of a new position at some point.
As the day began to dawn, Zeus and his guardians, with the exception of the two who had been on guard duty throughout the night, went about opening the facility for the day.
Windows were uncovered and the entry door was unlocked.
Zeus could see a farmer coming in from the main avenue, a man who delivered their meat to them, and he sent a Guardian by the name of Castor down to the kitchens to supervise the delivery with the cook.
Whenever money changed hands, The Guardians were present.
Everyone kept ledgers for checks and balances to ensure everyone remained honest. He’d just sent Castor away when he heard someone coming down the stairwell.
A big man he didn’t recognize emerged.
Since there were sleeping chambers above that were sometimes used by guests, it wasn’t unusual to see unfamiliar people.
The man who came off the stairs was quite big, muscular, with dark hair and hazel eyes.
A faint beard embraced his jaw. He had the look of a knight about him, so Zeus made that assumption.
“My lord,” he greeted the man. “Are you with the new lord’s party?”
The man nodded. “Who are you?”
“Zeus, my lord.”
That seemed to bring some recognition to the man’s features. “Ah,” he said. “The leader of The Guardians. I was beginning to wonder when we would meet.”
“And you are, my lord?”
“Sir Jareth de Leybourne. I am Chester’s nephew.”
That brought recognition from Zeus, and perhaps a hasty salutation. “Welcome to Aphrodite’s Feast, my lord,” he said pleasantly. “I apologize that I was not on duty when you arrived yesterday. I have the night watch, and most of the day, so I just happened to be sleeping when you arrived.”
Jareth nodded. “I know,” he said. “I spoke to a couple of your men—Heracles and Orpheus. They explained where you were.”
“Good,” Zeus said. “Is there anything I can tell you? Would you like me to show you about?”
“Lady Desdra already did,” Jareth said. “When I spoke to your men, they told me a little about their backgrounds, and since we are to work closely together from now on, I will tell you what I told them—I am a member of a group known as the Guard of Six. We are the personal guards of King Henry. I serve the king directly and my home is Westminster Palace. My mother was Chester’s younger sister, but my father is from the House of de Leybourne.
We are the direct descendants of King Mark of Cornwall.
I trained at Corfe Castle and Warwick Castle, and I served as a master trainer at Warwick before I served Henry.
I have seen years of battle, including the wars between Henry and Simon de Montfort.
That makes me an elite knight, highly trained and experienced, and quite worthy as your liege.
Better you should know at the start who, and what, I am. Do you have any questions?”
Zeus shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.”
Jareth nodded. “I should like to meet all of The Guardians at some point soon, so can you please arrange a time for everyone to gather?” he said. “I am going to be here for the foreseeable future, so any time should be convenient. You arrange it and I will attend.”
“Very good, my lord.”
“Thank you,” Jareth said. “Now, have you seen any strange men wandering around here this morning?”
Zeus pointed toward the feasting room. “There are a few I do not recognize in there,” he said. “There are still others down by the river, I think.”
Jareth strained to look from the front door, down toward the river, but he couldn’t see much. “I’ll find them,” he said. “By the way, I’ve brought five knights with me. They are all part of Henry’s guard. And Hugh de Winter has been lurking around here, too.”
“Aye, my lord.”
With that, Jareth headed into the chilly morning in search of some of his friends.
Zeus watched him as he headed outside, making his way across the road and over toward the riverbank.
On the avenue, the gold- and silversmiths were starting to open their stalls, all of them with heavily armed men to protect their valuable wares.
It seemed like just another normal morning, and one he had to admit he was glad to see.
The new liege didn’t seem like an arrogant ass, after all. That was a good start.
Little did he know just how sour that morning was about to turn.
*
It had been a long time since he’d been to Bristol.
Ciaran arrived in town as the sun cleared the eastern horizon and began its ascent. He’d left Ridlaw in the middle of the night, riding beneath a moon that sat low in the sky and provided a silvery glow by which to travel. It had been cold and damp, and he hated travel, but this was necessary.
He needed to see his daughter.
His life had been one big mess since the death of his son.
Benedict had always played the fatherly role, which sounded strange, but given that Ciaran had no real desire to be a parent to either of his children, Benedict had stepped into a necessary role.
Ciaran was well aware that Benedict and Desdra were close, and he well remembered when Benedict had nearly killed him for giving Desdra over to Chester de Long.
Ciaran had always resented his son for the fact that the man tried to parent him, and while he was naturally melancholy that his son had been murdered, he wasn’t devastated by it.
That meant there was no one around to make him feel guilty about the life he led.
And there was no one standing between him and Desdra.
The outskirts of Bristol were busy at this time in the morning as the farmers either headed out to their fields or were bringing in cartloads of produce to sell.
Bristol had a market every seventh day, and it’d had a royal license for one for many years, so farmers heading into town weren’t going to sell their wares at market, but rather door to door, with private clients that they had sold to for years.