Chapter Five #2
Ellowyn wiped at her dripping nose. “Nay, my lord,” she shook her head. “But you never said anything about having business with my father. This is the first you have mentioned it.”
He was starting to feel like an idiot. “I had forgotten,” he muttered, then pointed towards the bed behind her in the hopes of changing the subject. “Perhaps you should retire for the day. Our trip can wait until you are feeling better.”
Again, Ellowyn shook her head firmly. “I do not want to linger here,” she said, moving back into the room to claim her satchel. “I am strong enough to travel home. Where is my escort? The men I brought with me?”
Brandt could see that she was determined. In fact, if there was one quality about Ellowyn de Nerra that stood out to him, it was her determination. She was fierce about it.
“They are down in the main room,” he told her. “My lady, it is my sincere hope that you will reconsider traveling today. It is raining fairly heavily outside.”
She acted like she hadn’t heard him as she brushed past him, exiting the room. “I will ask the innkeeper if he has something hot to drink. Perhaps that will help my cough. I will be well enough – you’ll see.”
With a sigh of regret, Brandt followed. The great room of the inn was fairly quiet at this hour, bodies strewn about the room in sometimes noisy slumber.
Ellowyn reached the bottom of the stairs with Brandt shortly behind her, making her way to the rear of the tavern in search of the innkeeper.
Brandt watched as her escort, having been huddled near the smoking hearth, spied the woman and moved to greet her.
As the lady went in search of something for her cough, Brandt headed outside into the howling elements.
It was pounding in buckets as he made his way across the avenue where all of the de Nerra men were huddled under the trees, seeking shelter from the rain. Late last night, after the conclusion of his meal with Ellowyn, he had sent Dylan de Lara back to the wharf to disband his army.
The bulk of four thousand, two hundred and thirteen men headed back to the duke’s seat of Guildford Castle while a smaller portion of skilled foot-soldiers had broken off from the main body and marched to Grey’s Inn along with five of Brandt’s most skilled and trusted knights and a few lesser knights.
As Brandt moved closer to a thick cluster of trees, he could make out the features of his senior knights lingering in a group near the road.
Dylan and his identical twin brother, Alex, were the first faces to greet him.
The two were so alike that most people couldn’t tell them apart, but Brandt could.
Alex was slightly bigger and led with his left hand, whereas Dylan led with his right.
As Alex acknowledged his liege with a silent salute, Brandt’s gaze fell on the knight standing next to him.
Brennan St. Hèver was perhaps the very best knight to have ever swung a sword, eldest son of the Earl of Wrexham.
A tall man with enormously wide shoulders, he had white-blond hair and eyes the color of the sea.
He was extremely fast, witty, and intelligent.
He was also extremely young at twenty years and two, but had a maturity well beyond his years.
Standing next to Brennan were the remaining two knights that rounded out de Russe’s top generals, Magnus de Reyne and Stefan le Bec, le Bec being the grandson of the legendary Guildford le Bec.
Both young knights were from very fine families, descended from the bloodlines of illustrious warriors, and were two of the best knights Brandt had ever seen.
Their strength and cunning were beyond measure, and Brandt considered himself extremely lucky to command such a fine senior stable. He had one hell of an arsenal.
“Good men,” Brandt greeted the group, then focused on Dylan. “Have my orders been carried through?”
Dylan nodded. “Aye, my lord,” he replied. “Most of the men have been sent back to Guildford, but we retained five hundred for your service. They have broken their camp and are awaiting orders.”
Brandt moved so that the rain wasn’t pelting him in the head from the branches above and ended up turning around, his back against the tree trunk as his gaze fell on the inn across the avenue.
The rain was so heavy that it was misting as well, giving the land a foggy appearance. His eyes lingered on the inn.
“We will be going to Erith Castle,” he said. “I have business with de Nerra and since his daughter will be taking his troops north anyway, we will be traveling with her party.”
Dylan was the only one who reacted. His eyebrows lifted, slowly, as if he were genuinely shocked by what he was hearing. “The woman who threatened you, my lord?” he asked.
“The same.”
“Will we need to guard your safety against her, then?”
Brandt tore his eyes off the inn and looked at Dylan, who was fighting off a grin.
He could see the man was teasing him. He turned away quickly so Dylan would not see the beginnings of a smile.
Dylan did not know that he had supped with Ellowyn the previous eve and settled all hostilities.
The truth was that Brandt didn’t want his men to know he’d paid attention to a female, even if it was in the line of duty.
Well, mostly. What he did and who he did it with was his own business.
“Perhaps,” he said vaguely. “In any case, she will be traveling with us. You will show her all due respect.”
“The woman threatened you, my lord?” Alex repeated, as if the gist of the words suddenly sank in.
Brandt was thinking to the moment in time when he and Ellowyn first met, that fiery misunderstanding that had left him both angry and intrigued. “She did,” he conceded. “But it might have been because I accused her of being a whore.”
Over his shoulder, le Bec burst out snickering as St. Hèver and de Reyne looked rather surprised. “A whore, my lord?” de Reyne clarified. “De Nerra’s daughter is a whore?”
Brandt shook his head, folding his huge arms across his chest as they continued their wait for Lady Ellowyn to appear.
“She is not,” he said flatly, “but she boldly addressed me down by the wharf yesterday and before she could introduce herself, I took her for a whore and tried to chase her away. She did not take kindly to it and became rightfully angry.”
Dylan looked at the group, elaborating on the encounter he had witnessed.
“He mistook her for a whore but when her identity became clear and he tried to apologize, she told him to bite his tongue and proceeded to berate him.” He watched the various expressions of disapproval around him.
“Somewhere in the scolding, she told him that if he did not deliver de Nerra’s men to her as instructed, she would return home and tell de Nerra all of the terrible things our lord said to her.
She was furious, sassy and disrespectful and if our lord had allowed me, I would have spanked her on the spot. ”
The knights were horrified at such behavior towards their liege. The Duke of Exeter was the most respected of men, a mentor and military equal to the Black Prince, and highly esteemed by the king himself. For a woman to publicly humiliate him was beyond their comprehension.
Brandt knew their thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder at the expressions of outrage around him and thought perhaps he should pacify his loyalists before they vilified the lady.
“It is true she was angry,” he said. “But I offended her so I am sure I deserved everything she said to me. That being said, since I was the one who wronged her, in no way will you show this woman any less measure of respect. I was able to speak with her last evening after she had sufficiently calmed and she was kind, intelligent, and rational. We were able to solve our differences. However, I will say one more thing and then speak of the incident no more.”
Dylan was deeply curious, about everything. “What is that, my lord?”
“She has one hell of a temper so if any of you set her off, be warned that I will not step in to defend you. You are on your own.”
As Brandt returned his attention to the front door of the inn, the five knights behind him glanced at each other with various expressions of curiosity and dread.
They even started muttering. Brandt, however, wasn’t paying attention to them.
He was more interested in what was unfolding at the inn.
He could hear things breaking and furniture being smashed inside.
It sounded as if someone was tearing the place down, never a good sign, and he had little doubt that Ellowyn was somehow in the middle of it.
Unsheathing his sword in a flash, he charged back across the avenue with his arsenal of knights behind him.