31. The Boy’s Courage
XXXI
THE BOY’S COURAGE
Henry continued with the Marcher Lords around Castel Thornwyck, salvaging his reputation until the evening meal was almost ready.
“We spent four months at Norfolk’s shores to keep the Danes at sea, do you remember Lord Hugh, because your host was not large enough to maintain your borders and assist Lord Bigod?” Henry asked, as if showing how much the other Marcher Lords needed him.
David trailed behind—eyes on his father, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
“I remember,” Lord Hugh said with a nod. “Chester is indebted; I’m sure the Lord of Norfolk is as well.”
Erik stood in his noble uniform alongside Geoffrey and Jovin and the other Marcher Lords’ highest-ranked knights.
The surcoat lay over his chain mail. Henry made him wear gloves to prevent anyone from seeing his tattoos.
His hands sweated through the leather and wool as he overheard the conversations.
“And remember, Lord Richard,” Henry said, “my Commander and Master-at-Arms were at Fellmere Keep at the border of Mortlande and Wellenford for months.”
Lord Richard gave a polite smile. “Wellenford is indeed indebted. If not for Commander de Montfort and Master de Bramber’s victory, the border might have fallen to the northern Welsh chiefdoms. And if not for your marriage to Lady de Thornwyck, they might still be holding Fellmere Keep—pushing deeper into Mortlande and Wellenford, and perhaps even Shrewsbury, with every raid.
” He gestured to Lord Hugh de Montgomery, who nodded with a puffed bottom lip.
Erik resisted the urge to smirk. Lord Richard did not like Lord Henry. It was evident in that one statement alone. It was not Henry’s victory, but Erik, Geoffrey, and Seren’s.
Henry’s ears turned red. Air burst from his nostrils like a bull. “One day Thornwyck will collect all debts.”
“I am ready to pay,” Lord Richard said. “Why do you not collect now?”
David pulled at his father’s sleeve.
Erik’s jaw clenched, wondering how hard Henry would hit his son in front of the Marcher Lords.
Henry shoved him off. “What is it, my heir?”
“It is late, Father.” His voice trembled. David was a courageous child to speak when he should have been silent. “May I see Mother now? See if her wound is better?”
Henry’s lips pressed thin as the corners forced up.
After the ordeal with Seren in the great hall, Henry had to oblige the boy’s request, especially in front of the men who held his wife in high regard.
That was probably one of the many reasons Henry wanted to get rid of her.
She had too much power. Brought too much visibility into how he ran his lands.
He couldn’t just do away with her as he had with his past wives.
She was a threat to his authority. He’d tried to smear her name, and by his hand, he’d smeared his own.
But Erik was now sure of one thing: Lord Henry valued Seren’s death over Erik’s prowess at war and string of victories.
He was willing to sacrifice Ragnar and Erik to see Seren dead.
He’d conspired with Jovin and Geoffrey against him.
Maybe Henry was jealous of Erik—believing his wife wanted his Commander.
Either way, they were going to lie about him and have all three innocents killed.
Erik peered at Geoffrey standing beside him and wondered why he had not told the whole truth. Perhaps he’d only been there to listen.
“You want to see your mother?” Lord Henry asked David.
David gulped and nodded. Tears misted his eyes. David stood tall—too tall for a boy his age—but his hands wrung in front of him like a servant awaiting punishment.
“Of course. Of course,” Henry said with a chuckle and patted David on the head as if nothing were the matter.
If the lords had not been there, Henry would have beaten David till blood came.
A fake smile rose on his lips as he turned to Lord Richard and Lord Hugh.
The lords of Stafford, Shrewsbury, and Warwick stood in silent judgment.
Henry flicked a wrist toward Erik and then to Geoffrey with a slight nod. “Only the best to escort my heir. Commander, and Master, go with him, ensure he arrives safely, and then return.”
They walked in silence through the darkening corridors. Servants dashed, lighting the wall sconces. David walked ahead of them, one hand on the stone wall, the other clenched into a small fist. His shoulders trembled, but he made no sound. He was too much his mother’s son for that.
The path to Seren’s chambers stretched long and empty. Cold drafts whistled through the corridor's arrow slits that served as windows.
Erik glanced at Geoffrey but said nothing.
They stopped at Seren’s door.
Geoffrey stayed a step back. The torches left his face half-shadowed, but his hand rested on the hilt of his blade from habit. The former commander’s stance was stiff. His jaw locked.
Godric bent to open it for the boy without question, but David was faster. He pushed it open and slipped inside. He locked eyes with Erik.
They longed for something.
Erik’s brow furrowed at the unexpected call in David’s eyes. He stepped forward, but David vanished into the room.
Erik reached for the door handle and pulled it closed.
He wished he could enter, kiss Seren’s wound, and tend to her bruises.
If only Godric were there, he might have been able to stand in the doorway, but with Geoffrey, he turned around.
The two knights walked in silence down the corridor until they came to the stair landing.
Erik peered at Geoffrey again.
This time, Geoffrey peered back. “Ask the question.”
Erik narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
Geoffrey took a deep breath and straightened his back.
“I hate you, Norseman.” Geoffrey spat.
Erik didn’t flinch.
“You are a pagan in my company. A war dog in Norman colors. Lord Henry handed my command, my place in Thornwyck, and somehow—somehow—you held it with unstained victory.”
Geoffrey curled his lip in disgust.
“I would have no greater pleasure than to see you dead, your boy too.”
“Why?” Erik whispered again. The same single word, still offering nothing.
“You called her Lady Seren, Payen.”
Geoffrey’s use of Erik’s Norman name did not escape Erik—his name meant pagan, and that is exactly what Geoffrey thought of him.
Geoffrey shook his head. “Maybe it was shock, but she let you get too close. I think you whispered a warning to her. I heard the tears in her voice and saw her knuckles pressed white.”
Erik peered behind him to make sure they were alone.
“Why?” he repeated, giving nothing away.
Geoffrey squared his shoulders. For once, there was no heat in his gaze, only a resolve. “Because . . . she needs to live,” he whispered.
Erik inclined his head.
“Why?” he asked to test him.
“Lord David needs a mother, or he’ll end up being his father,” Geoffrey whispered again.
Erik studied Geoffrey, still giving nothing away. The man could just as easily lie about him alone and leave Seren out of it.
Geoffrey leaned in. “And if you’ve made a liar out of me regarding Lady de Thornwyck, I will ensure your suffering is tenfold.”
Erik straightened. “She is faithful to her husband, as your God would have it. If you are a liar, you will have made yourself one.”
“Keep it that way, Payen.” Geoffrey turned and entered the stairway first, leaving Erik a moment to glance back at Seren’s door.
Godric stared back at him.
They exchanged a dip of their heads.
Erik rested his palm on the spring-cold stone as he descended the stairs, grounding himself in the chill.
The taste of the morning’s betrayal still coated his tongue. The trial. The accusation. The truth twisted beyond recognition.
And yet, she had survived.
Because of Geoffrey. Of all the men in the keep, Geoffrey.
The very man who had once cursed Erik for replacing him had chosen her over pride.
But that choice would cost them both.
Even though Geoffrey didn’t reveal the whole truth about what happened in the alcove, Erik’s days with Seren ended.
After such an accusation by Lord Henry, even a look, a breath too long in Seren’s direction, would be seen as seduction.
A favor. An invitation. And any small kindness Erik offered now could condemn her.
Even a yellow kingcup bloom could be interpreted as an affair.
He clenched his fist.
She had not been his to begin with, but the day made it final.
He had lost in her not only the woman who made him feel human again, but also his only friend.