Chapter Eleven #2
Max gestured to the man again, obviously giving him more instructions, and the rider peeled off his tunic and hauberk, followed by his mail coat and finally his boots.
Nearly everything came off the man as Max had him strip down to his tunic and breeches.
Even then, he patted the man down to make sure he wasn’t carrying a concealed weapon.
Only when he was convinced the man was weaponless did he gesture to Christopher and Edward, who came forward through the crowd of villagers trying to enter the fortress.
When they came to within about ten feet of the messenger, Christopher came to a halt.
It was an odd standoff, three big and fully armed knights against a man in his dirty tunic and breeches with no shoes. Christopher studied the man a moment before speaking.
“State your business,” he said evenly.
The soldier looked between the three men. “I come bearing a message for the Earl of Hereford.”
“That would be me,” Christopher replied. “State your business and be quick about it.”
The messenger focused on Christopher. “My lord,” he said politely. “Sir Ajax de Velt has asked me to extend his greetings. He is in need of your counsel and seeks audience. He comes in peace and asks if you will kindly see him.”
That wasn’t the message Christopher had expected.
He could feel Edward’s gaze upon him, curious and confused, but he didn’t look at the man.
He didn’t want to give the messenger, who would undoubtedly return to de Velt and report his observations, any hint of his bewilderment or doubt.
De Lohr was a master at keeping his emotions in check.
“If he comes in peace, then why did I receive a report that one thousand men bearing de Velt banners were camping on my lands?” he wanted to know. “Why does he field a massive army if he does not intend to use it?”
The messenger shook his head. “His quarrel is not with you, my lord,” he said. “He is eager to seek your counsel on a terrible matter and seeks an audience. He has brought the army for another matter entirely but he wishes to speak with you first. Will you please see him?”
Christopher looked at Edward, then. They were both thinking the same thing.
He must be here about de Llion. Knowing what they did about the events on the Marches involving de Velt’s holdings and Alberbury, it was the obvious and logical conclusion.
But they were still genuinely shocked that he had come to Lioncross.
My lord requires your counsel. Evidently, the man wished to speak with him about de Llion.
Or, that was what Christopher assumed. There was only one way to find out.
“What did he have in mind?” he asked.
The messenger had obviously been well-schooled by de Velt on the answers he should supply to the earl. “If you would be more comfortable, he will come to you, unarmed and alone,” he replied. “If that is not acceptable, then he asks that you name your terms and he will obey.”
Christopher was growing more bewildered by the moment. Scratching his cheek thoughtfully, he turned his back on the messenger and motioned Edward close. De Wolfe complied.
“What is your take on all of this?” Christopher whispered to the man. “Is this an honest request or is it a ruse?”
Edward eyed the messenger before replying.
“I do not sense a ruse,” he admitted. “De Velt’s history suggests he does not operate that way.
Moreover, if what Shropshire told us was true about the mercenary abducting de Velt’s daughter, then this makes perfect sense.
Mayhap de Velt is here to ask for your help? ”
Christopher lifted his eyebrows. “Christ,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that would happen.”
Edward was forced to agree. “I have spent all of my time being terrified of de Velt,” he said. “To consider that the man is requesting a peaceful conference… I do not know what to think.”
Christopher pondered that a moment. “I am more afraid to think of what will happen if I deny him an audience,” he said. “I suppose having him come to Lioncross, unarmed and alone, is harmless enough.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed. “But it is Jax de Velt we are speaking of. Even if he is unarmed by our standards, he may not be unarmed by his. The man is likely to draw a dagger out of his arse and kill you with it.”
Christopher struggled not to grin. “Let us hope not,” he said. “Mayhap I should do the man a courtesy and listen to what he has to say.”
“As you said, to deny him might anger him, and that is something we don’t want.”
“I don’t want him to take a dagger out of his arse and kill me with it, either.”
“Then you have a difficult choice to make.”
With a heavy sigh, Christopher turned to face the messenger. “Tell your lord he is welcome to come to Lioncross, alone and unarmed,” he said. “I will meet him at the gatehouse. Tell him to come this day.”
The messenger nodded. “May I dress, my lord?”
Christopher motioned Max away from the messenger. “Be quick about it,” he said. “I will wait for de Velt’s arrival.”
The messenger began to dress swiftly as Christopher, Edward, and Max headed back to the open front gates.
The trickle of peasants had lessened and the guards at the gate were preparing to lower the portcullis.
Christopher made it inside the gatehouse, remaining with his men as the portcullis began to lower.
Peasants made a run for it, some making it under the fanged grate just in time while still others hadn’t been fast enough.
The guards at the gate instructed those who didn’t make it to return to the village but remain in their homes, so there was a wild scattering as people rushed back for the village.
It was a mad dash for safety in uncertain times.
Inside the gatehouse, Christopher stood near the lowered portcullis with his knights, waiting for the moment Jax de Velt would show himself.
He’d never met the man but he’d heard he looked like a wild beast with crazed eyes.
He’d been lucky in his life not to have had any contact with him, or any conflicts, but all of that was about to change.
He hoped that all de Velt wanted to do was talk because the alternative had him edgy.
He wished his brother was here, a knight among knights.
He wished he had more knights on hand. In fact, he wished every fighting man in England was here at the moment, at his disposal.
If de Velt became angry, it might take every soldier in the country to fend him off.
… and Hell followed with him.
*
Jax hadn’t been on a military campaign in two decades.
True, he had traveled during that time, significantly, but this was different.
He felt as if he was on a battle march, which was essentially the truth.
Moreover, this march was different. He was heading into the realm of Christopher de Lohr who, in his opinion, was the most powerful man in England.
The man had allies all over the place and he existed in a world that was somewhat foreign to Jax.
If de Lohr needed assistance, all he need do was summon one of a dozen nearby allies.
If Jax needed assistance, he had no one to really call upon, but that was his own damn fault.
Even when he’d stopped his campaign of conquest, he’d never really made a huge effort to repair any of the damages he’d done.
His properties in Wales were a prime example.
Twenty-five years ago, he’d plowed through a portion of the Marches with a ferocity that no one had ever seen before.
He’d taken castles, killed people, burned villages, and generally destroyed everything he touched.
He’d established his own commanders at the castles to oversee them and the wealth he received from those properties, to this very day, was significant.
But when he’d stopped his conquest, mostly because his wife did not agree with what he did, he’d just left things as they were.
He’d returned a couple of English castles to Yves de Vesci, his liege, but he’d kept the rest and never said another word about it.
He never tried to mend any relationships or make any allies, as he’d told his wife.
His properties were his own and he’d never cared much for alliances. Until now.
As he traveled towards Lioncross Abbey, de Lohr’s seat, he was fairly certain that de Lohr was alerted to his approach. Any man worth his weight in steel and sweat would have patrols across his lands, searching for threats, and he was positive de Lohr was no exception.
Therefore, he didn’t expect a particularly warm welcome, especially when de Lohr found Jax de Velt and an army of one thousand men at his doorstep.
He would be lucky if de Lohr didn’t lash out first and ask questions later.
Given that possibility, when he was about an hour away from Lioncross, he sent forth a messenger to de Lohr to let the man know his intentions were peaceful and requesting an audience.
He didn’t think de Lohr would believe him, or even agree to see him, but he had to try.
As Jax remained lost to his thoughts, a knight astride an excited destrier pulled up alongside him.
“My scouts tell me that Lioncross is over this next rise,” the young knight said, flipping up his visor. “The messenger has yet to return, however.”
Jax cocked an eyebrow at his second son, a young man who resembled him to a fault including the dual-colored eyes.
Sir Julian de Velt possessed the brown eyes with a big splash of pale green in the right eye, just as his father did, only Julian’s condition was a little less pronounced than his father’s was. Still, the resemblance was eerie.
“I would not be surprised to find our messenger locked up and de Lohr preparing to unleash archers on us the moment we come in range,” Jax told his son. “Therefore, the army will stay well back while you and I approach. Where is Cole?”