Prologue
“He is the devil!”
Draven de Montague, earl of Ravenswood, laughed aloud at the conviction in Hugh’s voice as they stood before the throne of King Henry II while Draven’s brother and one of Hugh’s men stood a few feet behind them. ‘Twas an epitaph he’d heard more times than he could count.
With a snide glare, he quickly agreed with the old earl. “Spawned of hell and suckled on the teat of a demon. I make no claims to anything else.” It was, after all, his reputation they spoke of. And in this land of chaos, Draven was the undisputed champion.
Two guards, who stood as still as statues, flanked the throne where the king sat. Henry looked less than pleased as he darted his gaze between his two noblemen. Even though Draven had shed his own blood, and spilled even more to secure Henry’s crown, he knew the limits of his monarch’s tolerance, and at this point, the king had been pushed too far.
Hugh took a careless step toward Henry’s throne. “I want him to leave my lands alone, Majesty. Surely, he has enough land to pacify himself with that he can leave off Warwick.”
Henry Plantagenet was not a man one approached recklessly. He was a man made by his own determination and raw courage, a man who had much in common with Draven, and better still, he was a man indebted to Draven.
The look on Henry’s face was one of hell wrath and brimstone.
Finding a moment of sanity, the earl stepped back and cast his gaze to the cobbled floor.
Henry looked to Draven and sighed. “We do not understand how this conflict started. Draven, you say he attacked you, and Hugh, you say he attacked you. Neither of you claims to have instigated the matter. This reminds us of two ill-bred children fighting over a toy while they both scream injustice. We particularly expect better from you, Lord Draven.”
Draven did his best not to show the anger coiling through him. He had served Henry faithfully for more than half his life. Even so, he was no man’s fool or pawn. Draven lived life on his own terms, and no one would ever dominate or take advantage of him.
No one.
Draven dared to meet the king’s gaze as an equal. “As you know, my liege, I do not cower, nor will I bow down before this man as he attacks my peasants and raids my fields. If Hugh wants a war, then by God, I am definitely the one to deliver it to him.”
Henry looked upward as if seeking the holy saints to aid him. “We grow weary of our lords battling amongst themselves. We acknowledge the years under Stephen were lax, but those days are gone. ‘Tis I, Henry, who rules this land and we shall have peace in it.” He looked straight at Draven. “Do you understand?”
“Aye, my liege.”
His look then turned to Hugh, whose gaze still examined the floor at Henry’s feet. “And you?”
“Aye, Sire.”
Henry’s stern features relaxed a degree. “‘Tis good then. But since we know better than to trust two mice left afield while the cat is occupied elsewhere, we must set this deal in a more permanent fashion.”
A sick feeling of dread settled in Draven’s gullet. He knew his king well enough to know this would not be to his liking.
“Since neither of you seems to know how this started, we have a way to settle this here and now. If you both have possession of something the other cherishes, then mayhap you’ll think twice before committing any further hostilities.”
“Majesty?” Hugh asked, his voice carrying the weight of his own trepidation.
Henry stroked his beard. “You have a daughter, do you not Lord Hugh?”
“Aye, Sire, I have three still living.”
Henry nodded, then looked to Draven who met his gaze with impertinent directness.
“And what of you, Draven?”
“I have a wastrel brother I have longed to be rid of for years.”
Said brother sputtered in indignation from ten paces behind him, but wisely kept his silence before his king.
His face perplexed, Henry thought the matter over. “Tell us, Simon,” he directed to Draven’s younger brother, “what does Draven hold dearest on this earth?”
Draven turned slightly to see his brother squirming beneath the attention of his king. With his head sedately bowed, Simon glanced up from under his brows as he addressed King Henry. “In truth, Your Majesty, ‘tis his honor only that he treasures. He would die to protect it.”
Henry rubbed at his chin as he considered those words. When he spoke, his words went through Draven like a hot lance. “Very well. We demand Draven swear on his honor that he will not raid or harass Hugh, and Lord Hugh is to hand one of his daughters over as pledge for his good conduct.”
