Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
ROWEN
Tristan’s long, dark hair blew in the wind as he and Rowen stood together, high on the bluff at Hawk’s Crown.
“I still remember when you brought me and my sister here to impress us with your dynasty. Here, where your kingdom rolls from this hill to the woods and all the way down to the bloody Severn itself.”
Rowen wiped at the blood at his lip. “I am glad to see you.”
Tristan turned to Rowen, the lines of his scarred face drawn tight, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Rowen steadied himself, one foot on a rock. “I knew you were alive. I’ve been looking for you for many years.”
“I know you were.”
“You made it quite difficult. You left no traces behind.”
“If I had, I wouldn’t still be alive,” Tristan bit out. “I want answers.”
“You deserve answers.”
“All my years under the cover of darkness for this military, this country, Morbihan was the first mission where things went horribly wrong. Things have never gone wrong under my command.”
“This time, Tristan, you were not the one in command.”
Tristan only narrowed his eyes at him.
“How many of you survived?” asked Rowen.
“Less than ten of us still breathe. We’ve been hiding in Guernsey, in the coves.
Soon after we landed, I attempted to make contact and was only told the dead were a cost to be borne.
” He sniffed in air and took in the flowering fields below as if they were a raging sea.
“That cannot be. My plans were exact. They had been confirmed. Not once, but thrice. I worked with men I trusted from the Channel Islands to Britain to France. Yes, there were émigrés that were less than hardy, less than dedicated to their own cause, but I handled them. Only one thing failed.”
“The ships were ordered to hold position.”
Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Those ships were our reinforcements. They were waiting for my message. I sent the bloody message.”
“Yes, they were waiting. But your message never came. Only an order to hold.”
“Impossible.” His hand tightened over his sword.
“I have it here…” Rowen pressed a hand against his chest. “The order.” Rowen slid the letter from inside his coat and offered it to him.
Grabbing the letter, Tristan turned to catch the light. He noticed the seal and paused; the muscles along his jaw ticked. He opened the letter and read. The lines of his face tightened as he folded the letter. “This has to be a lie.”
“It is the truth. But it is a lie.”
“I cannot believe the one man who shaped my career, kept me safe, would do this…to me…to our nation.”
“Enggers gave the order to hold, and he told Parliament that no message for reinforcements was ever received. He would have known, he said, his staff would have known.”
“Lies!” Tristan roared, his ravaged face hardening. “Why?”
“Liberating France suddenly seemed a bad idea. The economics were weighed heavily. Trade interests—both French and English—leaned on Enggers, and your rebellion became…inconvenient.”
“I have been the point man in France for years, living there as one of them, gathering information, sharing it, masking it, designing plans.”
“Enggers had another contact in France who helped sway him with these commercial concerns. Who helped pave the way for the expedition’s ultimate demise.”
“Who?” The word blazed from him as his shoulders locked, as if bracing for a blow he already felt coming.
“Your uncle Alastair.”
His eyes flared, his mouth gaped open. He lost his footing for a moment and swiftly forced himself upright, digging his heels in the ground. “No. No…”
“It’s true.” Rowen took in a breath to steady himself. “When I married Cassandra, I threw Alastair and Robert out of Redthorne.”
“He told me all about it.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did, and I’m quite sure his version of events is starkly different from the truth.
Your uncles were very much in debt everywhere, and they quit England for France.
You must have known that Alastair and Enggers have been close friends since their youth in the Navy.
I uncovered a dubious incident in the Caribbean on their ship, the Resolute.
Whatever happened on the Resolute—murder, theft, treason— kept them close and aligned.
“Alastair must have told Enggers he was now in France and could be of use to him for a price. He began to play the role of observer, confidant, opinion-giver. Player. He then began representing certain underground Anglo-French interests. War, as I’m sure you know, is often more of a moneymaker than peacetime.
” Rowen took in his old friend, who now looked like a battle-weary soldier, a jaded pirate who rarely walked on normal ground in the bright sun and fresh air. “Or perhaps you do not know.”
Tristan’s head tilted. “My uncle is the one who made my commission to the Navy possible.”
“I remember, you told me.”
“And the more I proved myself, the more it led to what I wanted to achieve. I was encouraged, and given great liberties. I worked underground, in secret, creating networks, maintaining them. I was utterly committed to this cause in every way, and I achieved so much in the name of protecting our country, our future.” He gulped in air, but it was of no use.
“I sacrificed everything. And Lord Enggers—”
“Enggers and your uncle groomed you very well indeed.”
Tristan’s massive chest caved in as if Rowen had punched him.
Rowen’s head slanted. “I’m sure you suspected Enggers because the reinforcements were in his hands. So why are you not in London, asking him what went wrong? Why are you here at Tidesfar?”
“To kill you.”