Chapter Eleven
From the unpredictable rain that had set a precedent for the season, the day had dawned remarkably clear and strangely warm. There wasn’t the usual chill to the air that there usually was, making it extremely pleasant for travel.
In fact, David had his helm off completely and the sun had turned his nose red as the de Lohr group headed into the outskirts of Norwich.
There was a wedding feast still going on, but it looked as if it had been going on for a few days because some people were sleeping on tables, others were picking at food, while still others were haphazardly dancing with music played by exhausted musicians.
There were drunkards passed out all around and tatters of flowers and garlands.
Christopher reined his horse to a halt, looking at the town square. It looked like a cluster of discarded poppets.
“It looks like one hell of a party,” he said, tipping back his helm and wiping the sweat from his brow.
David looked around him, grinning. “I’m sorry I missed it,” he said. “I cannot imagine de Winter’s celebration is going to be any great cause for copious drinking like this event clearly was.”
As the brothers were nodding, looking on ahead to Norwich Castle in the distance, they heard a voice behind them.
“It looks like one of the parties we used to participate in, long ago.” It was a deep, loud voice. “Usually, it would be David passed out under the table as Chris and I arm wrestled to see who could throw whom to the ground first.”
Christopher and David turned around, both of them grinning when they saw an enormous knight on a big, black warhorse coming up behind them.
The man was wearing a tunic of William Marshal, as he was the garrison commander of the mighty Richmond Castle and probably the fiercest knight in the north of England.
“Cai,” Christopher said with satisfaction. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you?”
Sir Caius d’Avignon flipped up his visor, giving the brothers a full view of his smiling face.
He was an enormous man, usually at least a head taller than everyone else around him, with hair and eyes as black as coal.
His face was angular and strong, the brilliant smile displaying charmingly crooked teeth.
“It is me in the flesh, gentle knights,” he said. “I should be asking you that question. Why in the hell would you attend a celebration in honor of John? He’s not exactly your favorite person.”
“For the same reason you would.”
“The Marshal ordered you to?”
Christopher laughed softly. “He did not order us, but rather strongly encouraged,” he said. “Besides, it is a chance for me to see my eldest children. They both serve at Norwich.”
Caius nodded as he reined his horse next to Christopher. “I have seen Peter from time to time,” he said. “An astonishingly good knight.”
A prideful smile crossed Christopher’s lips.
“He comes from excellent stock and has had excellent training,” he said.
“His brothers are doing equally well. Curtis and Richard serve at Bowes Castle with Juston de Royans and they are both nearly as big as I am at sixteen and fourteen years, respectively. Myles is at Canterbury with David, still, and the younger children are at home with my wife and me. Rebecca has seen seven years, Douglas five years, Westley three years, and Olivia Charlotte is the baby.”
“The baby has two names?”
“I liked one, Dustin liked the other, so she is called by two names.”
Caius snorted. “How exhausting.”
Christopher shrugged. “You get used to it,” he said. “In any case, Dustin insists on keeping our children to her bosom. It is like extracting teeth with her to send a child to foster.”
Caius chuckled. “That is quite a brood, my virile stud,” he said. “Are you finished yet?”
Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “My wife says I am a dead man if she conceives a child again, so I would say that we are finished.”
Both Caius and David laughed heartily at that statement, mostly because Christopher seemed rather fearful of the wrath of his wife in such a case.
“I cannot believe a man of your stature would be fearful of a woman,” Caius said. “You are the husband. If you want more children, that is your right.”
Christopher gave a loud, ironic snort. “When you marry, you shall understand,” he said. “You’re completely ignorant, d’Avignon. Give advice only for the things you’re good for – slaying enemies and savages.”
Caius grinned wolfishly. “The only thing I have been slaying as of late lies between a woman’s legs.”
That set Christopher and David off into laughter again.
Caius was, if nothing else, quite entertaining.
They had served with him in The Levant, part of the close circle of Richard’s trusted men, and Caius had been jovial and witty at times.
He was also one of the most brilliant, deadly tacticians around, so much so that the Muslims called him Britania Faybr, or The Britannia Viper.
He was big, fast, and deadly.
He was, therefore, a man that Christopher and David respected and liked. Christopher clapped the man on the arm.
“Come along, lad,” he said. “Let us go and slay a few cups of wine and some of de Winter’s fine food.”
“No women?”
“Not for me, but be my guest if there are any eligible women in attendance.”
Caius thought that sounded like a good idea.
The three of them continued on through the village of half-drunk people, heading towards the enormous, square bastion in the distance.
More people were arriving as well, groups of invited nobles, and they could see several houses that they knew, allies of de Winter and of William Marshal.
There were several roads into Norwich, as it was the largest city in Norfolk, and parties were coming in from all over.
Christopher recognized all of them, in fact.
Summerlin, de Leybourne, and Ashbourne were just a few groups of men he recognized.
As the groups bottlenecked into the city gates, he found himself in conversation with Padraig Summerlin, the garrison commander of Castle Rising.
He was a good man, married to one of Old Daveigh’s daughters.
It was quite a festive atmosphere as men arrived for days of drink and food in celebrations of the king’s birthday the coming month.
And just as they passed beneath the city gate, they began to hear a commotion behind them.
William Marshal was bringing up their rear with about a hundred solders and Maxton and Kress riding with him, armed to the teeth.
Although Christopher and David had brought about the same number of men-at-arms with them, they were treating the ride a little more casually.
David still had his helm off, enjoying the sun, and Christopher’s shield wasn’t even on his saddle.
There was a small group from Thetford between them and The Marshal’s party, one Lord Croxton, and Maxton and Kress scared the hell out of Lady Croxton as they pushed their group.
Christopher could hear Lady Croxton weeping loudly.
It was mostly Maxton, harassing people in order to make way for William Marshal, but Christopher didn’t comment on the fact.
That was typical Maxton; no tact, all business.
He and Maxton had known each other for over twenty years and they had never particularly gotten along, mostly because they were so much alike in personality – forceful, commanding, demanding.
But Maxton had a darker edge about him, something Christopher didn’t have, nor did he like, and there had been times in the past when he and Maxton had butted heads.
But these days, they couldn’t work up the energy to do so.
They had accepted one another for who, and what, they were, and although they would never be the best of friends, they managed to get along for the most part.
As Maxton pushed through the Croxton group to reach the de Lohrs and Caius, he ended up shoving the lone Croxton knight out of the way by kicking the man’s horse in the flanks.
As the animal bolted off, he turned his attention to the men he knew.
“Here we are, together again,” he said, mostly focused on Caius. “Cai, God help you, you’re uglier than I remember.”
Caius snorted. “Thankfully, the women do not think that.”
Maxton rolled his eyes, for it was true. They all knew that women flocked to Caius like a moth to the flame. His attention fell on David next.
“My lord,” he greeted. “I see that you are still in the company of that one.”
He nodded his head in Christopher’s direction and David smiled thinly. “You mean the Earl of Hereford and Worcester?” he said. “Show some respect, Loxbeare.”
Maxton turned to Christopher and the two of them gazed at each other, appraisingly. That was usual with them. “My lord,” Maxton said. “All the way from the Marches, I see.”
“And you,” Christopher said evenly. “How is Gloucester?”
“Quiet. Just the way I like it. And Lioncross?”
“Quiet. Just the way I like it.” Christopher looked at David and Caius, and now Kress as he joined them. “You would never guess that Maxton and I are allies along the Marches. He really loves me, but he will never admit it.”
There was an ironic jest in that, and some humor. It wasn’t true, but it wasn’t entirely untrue, either. The relationship between the pair was complicated. As David and Caius shook their heads to the unspoken rivalry between Christopher and Maxton, Kress reined his horse next to the group.
“Greetings, my lords,” he said, far more polite to Christopher and David than Maxton had been. “’Tis a fine day for much drinking and eating.”
“You will keep the drinking to a minimum,” William said as he rode up. “I do not need a bunch of drunken lords about with John on the prowl. Has he arrived yet?”
Everyone turned in the direction of the castle, the great square box on the hill that loomed over the town. There were banners flying, both de Winter and Plantagenet, snapping in the light breeze.
“I would guess he is here,” Christopher said. “His feast begins today, after all.”