Chapter Two
“The Earl of Sidbury? You?”
Seated in the luxurious solar of Exmoor Castle’s keep, a structure in the heart of the Blackchurch compound, Creston nodded his head to the man standing before him.
“Aye, my lord,” he said. “I have a feeling my brother is going to try to use you as leverage to force me into this marriage, so I came to tell you before he did.”
St. Denis de Bottreaux couldn’t help but appear both surprised and dubious.
He was a short man, with graying, curly hair that hung to his shoulders and a better-than-average talent for swinging a sword.
His true strengths lay in his judgment and wisdom, and in his unerring ability to command a battle.
He was brilliant in that respect and he, more than any of his ancestors, had built Blackchurch into what it was today.
When he had inherited the guild from his father, it was half the size, but he’d built it into something grand and powerful.
The man seated before him had helped him achieve that, and he didn’t like what he was hearing from him.
“My God,” St. Denis said, awed by what he’d just been told. “Your brother managed to broker a betrothal between you and Sidbury’s granddaughter? How astonishing.”
“He has,” Creston said. “And he is determined that I should accept it, but I wanted you to know about this, my lord. It is a… complicated situation.”
St. Denis grunted. “To say the least,” he said. “You explained to your brother that Sidbury is a great enemy of Triton’s Hellions?”
“I did, my lord.”
“And he is still insisting?”
“He is, my lord.”
St. Denis shook his head sadly. “Then I do not know what to say,” he said. “I know this will be a great opportunity for you, Creston, and—”
Creston cut him off quietly. “God’s Bones, not you, too.”
St. Denis held up a hand to quiet him. “Let me finish,” he said.
“What I was going to say is that sometimes even the best opportunity is not without its battles. Of course, selfishly, I do not want to lose you as a Blackchurch trainer. You are one of our very best. But as the Earl of Sidbury, you will be in a position of great power. We could use that to our advantage.”
Creston could hear the hope in St. Denis’ voice. “But what if I want to remain a simple trainer with a simple life?” he said. “What if I do not want to become a man of great power?”
There was angst in his tone. A man facing a great decision usually had that kind of torment in his heart and St. Denis wasn’t oblivious to it.
But he simply didn’t think this was the horrible situation that Creston thought it was.
He went over to an elaborately carved oak table and picked up the pitcher of wine, pouring some into two cups.
“Let’s think about this a little, shall we?” he said, setting the pitcher down and picking up the cups. “Start from the beginning. How does your brother know Sidbury? How did this come about?”
Creston accepted the offered cup of wine gratefully.
“Sidbury is a distant cousin to my father,” he said before taking a gulp of the ruby-red liquid.
“My father and Sidbury shared the same great-grandfather, I think. In any case, he is kin and an ally. He and my father were raised together. He recently sent word to my brother, asking if I were married and suggesting a marriage between me and his granddaughter to strengthen the family alliance.”
“That makes sense,” St. Denis said. “Do you know the man personally?”
Creston nodded. “Years ago,” he said. “He was a follower of King John and we would see each other from time to time, but we did not have a relationship to speak of. He knew when I came to Blackchurch, however.”
“How did he know that?”
“My father told him,” he said. “You know that my father was not particularly thrilled that I left the king’s service to serve at Blackchurch, and he complained to anyone who would listen. I think half of England knew I came to Blackchurch those years ago.”
St. Denis shrugged. “Sidbury must not have thought it was shameful if he sought you out as a husband for his granddaughter,” he said. “Have you never met the girl?”
“Never.”
St. Denis fell silent for a moment, sipping his wine and contemplating the situation. “Is there any reason that you should be opposed to a marriage, Creston?” he asked. “Do you have your eye on someone else as a wife?”
Creston shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “There is no one else. There hasn’t been since my time with John.”
St. Denis looked at him then. “You had a lady you were fond of, then?”
Creston sighed heavily. “Aye,” he said, averting his gaze. “Long ago.”
“What happened?”
Creston snorted, a bitter sound. “It is not something I like to speak of,” he said. “I haven’t spoken of it in years, I don’t think.”
“Please. I’d like to know.”
Creston was staring at his cup. “Very well,” he said after a moment.
“Her father was an ally of my father’s. Mary St. Albans was young and beautiful and her mother was stupid enough to bring her to London, to court, in fact.
She did not escape the king’s notice, and rather than have his daughter deflowered by a monarch, her father sent Mary to France, into hiding.
The last I heard, she had married a warlord and had several children. ”
St. Denis waggled his eyebrows in understanding. “I see,” he said. “But given how John was, I am certain it was for the best. You could not have protected her had you married her, Creston. He would have demanded your wife.”
Creston looked at him. “Why do you think I came to Blackchurch?”
St. Denis’ brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Creston regarded his wine for a moment. “Did your son never tell you how he brought me to Blackchurch?”
St. Denis shrugged. “Only that you saved his life in London,” he said. “Why? Is there more to it?”
“A little,” Creston admitted. Then he sighed heavily. “Fourteen years ago. It seems like forever.”
“What happened?”
“Gerard found me in the seediest tavern in London, drowning my sorrows in a pitcher of the strongest wine I could buy.”
“Why?”
Creston shrugged. “Because I knew Mary’s father intended to send her to France to escape the king, only I thought I knew better,” he said, his expression dull with the painful memory.
“I convinced Mary to run away with me. We were going to be married and I planned to serve somewhere in France or Aragon. I had enough friends that I could find a position, but Mary’s mother found out about our plans and told her father.
When I went to collect Mary, her father was waiting for me to tell me that she was already gone.
Worse still, he threatened to tell John if I ever spoke a word of the situation, so my hands were tied.
But I ended up walking away as it was. I could not serve a king who had ruined my chance at happiness. ”
St. Denis understood now. Truthfully, Creston had never struck him as a man with any secrets, but perhaps every man was entitled to at least one.
“I’m sorry, lad,” he said quietly. “That is an unhappy tale.”
Creston simply nodded, still looking at his wine.
“I always thought I would marry a woman I was fond of,” he said.
“Marriage, to me, is something very special and sacred. I’ve seen other men fall in love with their wives and I’d always hoped to do the same, but I want to do it with a woman of my choosing. Not of my brother’s choosing.”
St. Denis couldn’t disagree with him. “It is always better for us to marry women of our choosing,” he said. “But you waited too long for yours. Your brother has the right to command you to marry, especially in the case of an alliance. You cannot refuse if he presses his rights.”
That only depressed Creston. “And he will,” he said. “He seems to think this is a brilliant match, although how he could know that, I do not know. He does not know the woman, either.”
St. Denis took a drink of his wine. “I am certain he is thinking about the earldom you will inherit,” he said. “He’s not wrong in that respect, Creston. It is a great match. You will reap enormous benefits from this.”
Creston just sat there, looking at his cup, pondering an aspect of his life that he’d never liked to ponder. Not since the day Mary had been sent away.
“There’s something else,” he muttered.
“What?”
Creston sighed faintly. “Mary was pregnant when her father sent her away,” he said. “That is why I was so determined to marry her. I do not know what happened to my child, if her husband accepted him or if he was sent away somewhere. That haunts me, my lord, more than you can imagine.”
St. Denis lifted his eyebrows in sympathy.
“Having sons of my own, I can most definitely imagine,” he said quietly.
“When I lost Gerard, something inside me died. Your children take a piece of you when they go, even if you’ve never met the child.
Somewhere, there is a piece of you out in the world, a lad, or a lass, you do not know.
You can only hope they are happy and healthy, but you do not know for certain.
I can understand how that must haunt you. ”
Creston could only nod. St. Gerard was killed a few years earlier, something that had affected them all.
Now, he was so incredibly depressed that all he wanted to do was get drunk somewhere.
Not at The Black Cock, the tavern in the village just outside of Blackchurch, but maybe back at his cottage, where he knew he had stashes of wine all over the house.
He had a bit of a problem drinking too much, something he kept hidden from his friends.
But in drink, there was solace.
He needed it.
“Well,” he finally said, “now you know everything. I came to tell you what my brother has done, so I suppose I have little choice but to accept the betrothal.”
“I would agree with that.”
“I also want to tell you that I have no intention of leaving Blackchurch.”
St. Denis was relieved to hear that. “Will you bring your bride back here?” he said. “There are other wives who would make her feel welcome.”
Creston frowned. “I am not even sure I want to make her feel welcome,” he said, but realized how cruel that sounded and he eased a little.
“I simply do not know, my lord. If she wants to return with me, she may. But if she wishes to remain wherever she happens to be living now, I will not argue with her. She can do what she likes.”
It still sounded cruel, but it couldn’t be helped. St. Denis stood up and put his cup aside, followed by Creston, who left his empty cup on a nearby table.
“Creston, I must say that I am very glad to hear you will inherit the Earldom of Sidbury,” he said. “Abelard will be glad, too. I assume you will be kinder to him than de Bulverton is?”
Creston smiled weakly. “He may have free rein over my port,” he said. “But there will be rules.”
“Such as?”
“No burning my town,” Creston said, his blue eyes twinkling dully. “No robbing people in the streets. No rampaging or pillaging. I have standards. Not many, but some.”
St. Denis started laughing. “We must maintain some dignity, I suppose,” he said. “What of Santiago? He keeps his ships in Fremington, you know. He will be thrilled if Sidmouth becomes a friendly port.”
He was referring to Santiago de Fernandez, leader of an Aragon pirate faction called Demons of the Sea.
He also happened to be a cousin to another Blackchurch trainer through marriage, Sinclair de Reyne.
Sinclair and Santiago had had some wild adventures in the past, and Santiago considered himself a strong ally of Blackchurch and Triton’s Hellions. At least, he had last month.
There was no telling how he felt this month.
Creston snorted at St. Denis’ statement.
“I would not dare refuse Santiago,” he said. “He’s been very good to Sin, you know. Since the man is a cousin to Sin’s wife, of course, he’s family. He can use the port with my compliments.”
St. Denis clapped Creston on the shoulder as they headed for the solar door. “You are already making two pirate factions very happy,” he said. “You see? This may not be as terrible as you think, after all.”
Creston paused at the door, his smile fading. “But I still must marry in order to inherit.”
“That is true. You must.”
Creston just shook his head and departed the chamber, leaving St. Denis to watch him go.
The Blackchurch trainers, and commanders, were such a tightly knit group that St. Denis knew, before the evening was out, that every trainer would know of Creston’s dilemma.
That was how the group operated. One man’s problem was every man’s problem.
St. Denis was fairly certain this wasn’t the last he was going to hear of this.
It was a good opportunity for Creston. He believed that.
He only hoped Creston did.