Chapter Fifteen
De Lohr must know.
Rod’s first impulse upon leaving The Falcon and Flower Inn in Newtown was to go to Lioncross Abbey and tell de Lohr of his meeting with his cousin.
The man would want to know, so in a blinding rainstorm, Rod set out for the southern Marches and de Lohr’s fortress.
It was a fair distance away, at least a day’s long ride, so he set off at a steady pace, but it soon became clear that traveling in a rainstorm in the dead of night was unsafe at best. His horse had tripped twice and the second time, he had nearly pitched off the animal.
Therefore, he had been forced to stop at a farmer’s hovel along the way. The old farmer provided him with his stable to sleep in, and it was dry and fairly warm so it wasn’t entirely miserable. The rain let up before dawn and Rod was back on the road again, heading for Lioncross Abbey.
The rain the night before had created divots on some of the roads where the mud had washed away and holes remained, which slowed his pace somewhat.
As the sun came out and began to dry up the water, the fields were alive with foraging creatures, and he passed more than one farmer on his trip south.
He even passed a man who had an entire cart full of small green apples, he told Rod, from a tree that he had pruned in the wintertime and was now producing fruit.
He gave Rod a few to take with him. They were extremely sour but, hungry, Rod managed to choke them down.
It was better than nothing. He gave his horse the apple cores and let the beast graze for a few minutes, watching it chomp down the fat, wet grass along the road.
But he didn’t take too long for eating. He had someplace to be, so he continued along the road that was growing increasingly better to travel on as the rain dried up.
With his steady pace and the better road conditions, he was able to make it to Lioncross well under what he had estimated.
As he reached a crest in the road overlooking de Lohr’s great fortress in the distance, he could immediately see a rather large encampment about a half mile to the north.
It took him a moment to realize it was an army.
He could see standards flying. Startled, he watched and waited to see what the army was doing.
It seemed to be sitting there, camping, minding its own business, and Lioncross seemed unruffled.
He could see men in the distance as they moved freely on the road in and around the castle, so clearly, the castle wasn’t under siege. Curious, he spurred his charger onward.
True to form, Lioncross’ main gate was open, the portcullis up, as people moved about without a care in the world.
It was sunset and Rod knew the great portcullis would soon be closing, sealing in the castle for the night.
As he thundered beneath the gatehouse and entered the bailey, his gaze fell upon Max Cornwallis standing near the smithy shack.
Max spied him, waving a big hand in his direction, as he made his way towards him.
Wearily, Rod dismounted his charger and asked a soldier to take the beast over to the stable. Just as the soldier walked away with the exhausted horse, Max and Rod met up.
“Back, I see?” Max asked. “I thought you were staying at Bronllys.”
Rod lifted his eyebrows, an exhausted gesture as well as a knowing one. “I was,” he said. “I had to go on an errand. Where is de Lohr?”
Max gestured to the keep. “Inside,” he said. “But before you go into the keep, you should know that we have a visitor.”
Rod nodded. “I know,” he said. “I saw an army camped about a half mile to the north but I couldn’t make out the standards. Who is it?”
Max recited the name deliberately for maximum impact. “Jax de Velt.”
Rod’s eyes widened. He had never been any good at hiding his feelings, so his measure of surprise was more dramatic than most.
“Ajax de Velt?” he repeated, astonished. “What is he doing here? And why isn’t he burning down the fortress and sticking us all up on poles?”
Max snorted. “Because he has come on a peaceful mission,” he said, sobering. “He received a missive that his daughter has been abducted. He came to see Chris because, being a major marcher lord, he thought de Lohr would know something more about it.”
Rod scowled. “He is here peacefully?”
“He is indeed.”
“Is that even possible?”
Max nodded. “It is,” he said, turning Rod in the direction of the keep entry. “Go inside and see him.”
Rod was afraid to. He was torn between curiosity and terror. In fact, he started backing away, his gaze moving nervously over the keep. “We discussed the scenario should de Velt come to the Marches, bent on blood,” he said. “You were there, Max. You heard what was said, what we feared.”
Max nodded patiently. “I know what we feared,” he said. “But trust me when I tell you that de Velt is here to seek help in saving his daughter and nothing more. Chris has offered to help him.”
Rod still wasn’t sure about the entire situation but at least he’d stopped backing up. His dubious gaze was on Max. “How long has he been here?”
“Two days.”
“No executions? No men on poles?”
Max laughed softly. “None of those things,” he said, pointing to the keep again. “Go inside. The man will not tear the hide from you. He’s actually not so bad once you come to know him. Suffice it to say that time has matured and changed him, I think. He is as normal as you and I are.”
Rod’s eyebrows flew up. “Normal? De Velt?” he shook his head, now moving towards the keep. His curiosity had the better of him. “This is something I must see for myself.”
Leaving Max grinning in the bailey, Rod took the steps up to the keep and entered the cool, dark foyer. Directly in front of him was the great hall of Lioncross and he could hear soft voices deep inside the room.
As he approached the hall entry in the shape of the classic Norman arch, he saw a few servants moving around inside the room and there were four soldiers, de Lohr soldiers, near the door.
Rod entered the hall to see Christopher and Edward with their backs to him, and a very large man with his long hair tied back at the nape of his neck all sitting at the feasting table.
There was also another unfamiliar knight at the table and as Rod approached, the unfamiliar knight stood up, glaring at him with hostility.
Rod glared back, insulted by the expression, as Christopher turned around to face him.
“Rod,” he said with surprise, rising to his feet. “I was not expecting you. What brings you back to Lioncross?”
Rod showed due respect to Christopher but the truth was that he couldn’t keep his focus off the big man and the unfamiliar knight at the table. The man had oddly colored eyes and was rather intimidating. At least, Rod thought so. Something about those eyes unnerved him.
“My lord,” he greeted Christopher. “I have come with more news about the mercenary. I hope my appearance is not inopportune.”
Christopher waved him off. “Of course not,” he said. “In fact, it is most welcome. Allow me to introduce you to Sir Ajax de Velt and his son, Sir Coleby de Velt. They, too, have come to Lioncross because of the mercenary. My lords, this is one of my finest vassals, Sir Rod de Titouan.”
It was a polite mutual introduction and Rod nodded respectfully to Jax, less respectfully to his arrogant son.
Coleby seemed to have an arrogant attitude and Rod had visions of punching the young knight in the face should he continue his mental chest-beating.
But his focus soon returned to Christopher.
“I have much to tell, my lord,” he said. “Things that will, coincidentally, interest Lord de Velt. May I sit? It has been a long ride.”
Christopher indicated for him to sit on his left hand, pouring the weary knight a measure of wine as Rod sat heavily. As Rod downed the entire cup of wine, Christopher eyed him with growing concern. He appeared exhausted, that was true, but there was something more, something he didn’t like.
“Tell us, Rod,” he quietly encouraged the man. “What more do you know?”
As Rod gazed at the two great knights, he almost didn’t know where to start.
In truth, he was still a bit rattled to be sitting across the table from the infamous Jax de Velt, so he struggled to overcome that issue.
So much had happened in his conversation with Bretton and, worse yet, with a captive who seemed less like a captive and more like a companion, a woman who also happened to be de Velt’s daughter.
As Rod had told Bretton, strange forces were at work around the man.
Pouring himself another cup of wine, Rod sighed heavily.
“I suppose it is best to start from the beginning,” he said, looking at Christopher. “Did you tell Lord de Velt about the de Llion connection?”
Christopher nodded his head. “I did,” he said quietly. “He knows that you are connected to the de Llion name but he also knows we do not have confirmation that the mercenary is, in fact, your cousin.”
Rod wriggled his eyebrows ironically as he took a long swallow of wine.
“We have confirmation now,” he said, looking between Christopher and Jax.
He finally settled on Jax. “My lord, the name the mercenary commander gave was Bretton de Llion. Lord de Lohr came into this information and knew that my family has connections with the de Llion family. In fact, my grandfather, whom I serve at Bronllys Castle, is a de Llion. When you conquered Four Crosses Castle twenty-five years ago, my grandfather’s son, my mother’s brother, was the garrison commander.
He was killed in the siege along with his wife and two children, or so we thought.
But then this mercenary commander surfaced, emulating your exact path of destruction along the Marches, and gave his name as Bretton de Llion.
Bretton de Llion was the son of the garrison commander, whom we believed to be dead. He is my cousin.”