Maximus’ expression was steely. “I will leave them inside the gate and not outside.”
The man didn’t reply other than to throw the big, iron bolts on the gate and yank it open. Creaking and groaning, the gate slowly opened as the man heaved.
Not wanting to seem as if they were trying to bust into the ward, Maximus didn’t help the man as he struggled with the very big, very heavy gate. Finally, he opened it enough so that men were able to pass through, and Maximus and Tiberius did, followed by their knights. But once they were all inside the gate, they immediately began removing weapons.
“You will place someone to guard our possessions and weapons,” Maximus instructed de Lara’s man. “I do not want to return to find things missing.”
De Lara’s knight whistled sharply between his teeth and two men came away from the group in the ward, making their way over. The knight issued a few orders to the pair before returning his focus to Maximus.
“My name is St. Héver,” the knight said. “I am Lord de Lara’s second.”
Maximus cocked an eyebrow. “The house of St. Héver?”
“Aye.”
“I have heard of it.”
The big knight dipped his head politely. “I am honored, my lord.”
Maximus eyed the knight. He’d seen this man, too. He was a fighting man, a knight on the front lines, and Maximus remembered hearing somewhere that Kirk St. Héver was a fearsome fighter. He certainly seemed big and professional enough. After a moment of scrutinizing St. Héver, Maximus began to look around at the manor complex.
“Where is de Lara?” he asked. “Surely he was expecting me sooner than this. We were delayed when one of the horses came up lame and we had to return to the livery for another.”
Kirk pointed to the long, single-storied building behind them by several dozen yards. It was at the far end of the ward.
“He is in the hall,” he replied. “You may go to him.”
Maximus pushed past the knight, heading towards the building indicated. He and his men had to pass by de Lara’s men as they went and there were looks bordering on hostility as they passed. Maximus ignored them but Tiberius went so far as to sneer at a pair of young knights who were posturing angrily. He leaned into his brother’s ear.
“Why are these men so hostile?” he hissed. “Have we unknowingly offended them?”
Maximus didn’t know and he surely didn’t care. “Idiots,” he replied under his breath. “De Lara had better have a good meal to make up for the bad manners of his men.”
Tiberius glanced over at the host of unfriendly faces. “We are allied with de Lara, are we not?”
“Both de Lara and I support de Montfort, so we are, in theory.”
“I do not think his men know that.”
Maximus wouldn’t give a second thought to the soldiers who were watching him and his party trudge across the bailey towards the hall. While the bailey itself smelled of men and animals, of urine and animal dung, they were catching wafts of smells that were emerging from the hall and the scents upon the air were most appealing. He could most definitely smell bread and he thought he even smelled meat.
He was famished, that was true, but his stomach seemed to be nervous for other reasons. Every time he thought of that phial of rose oil in his tunic, that secret precious bottle, thoughts of the lovely Courtly filled his mind and he realized that he was anxious to see her again. Fearful, even. He wondered if she had only been kind to him at their first meeting earlier that day because he saved her life.
Self-doubt clutched at him as he patted the rose oil, wondering if he had acted too hastily in purchasing it. What if her smiles and pleasant conversation had only been out of gratitude and nothing more? Maximus wasn’t in the habit of being attracted to women on a daily basis, so when he was attracted to one, it meant something to him. Certainly, other knights took whores or wives. Tiberius had a glut of women who lived or died by his smile and Gallus was now married, but Maximus had always been a warrior’s warrior. He was a knight, a fighter, and that was what filled his time– thoughts and practice of how he could better himself as a warrior. His time had never been filled with the opposite sex. Until now. He secretly hoped that was about to change.
Entering the arched doorway that opened into Kennington’s hall, he was met with a rather small and narrow common room with a dramatically arched ceiling constructed of big timbers. Immediately to his left was an alcove with a feasting table, evidently meant for the lord of Kennington and his family, and then there were two long, feasting tables, side by side, in the room. Instead of a hearth, there was a fire pit at one end of the room and the pitched roof had holes in it so that smoke could escape. The fire was lit and the room was quite warm, and quite pleasant, as Maximus and his men moved into the hall.
“Sir Maximus!”
The call came from the end of the hall with the fire pit and Maximus saw Kellen emerging from a small door. Dogs trailed after him as he headed in Maximus’ direction, his expression far more pleasant than the expressions his men had presented outside.
“You have arrived,” Kellen said, somewhat happily. “I am glad you could come. We have been looking forward to supping with you this eve. And you have brought your men?”
Maximus nodded, indicating the men to his right. “I do not believe you have met my brother, Tiberius,” he said, indicating the tall, dark-haired brother. “And these are my knights, the de Wolfe brothers, de Moray, and du Bois.”
Kellen’s smile faded somewhat as he looked at the collection of knights. “De Wolfe?” he repeated. “William de Wolfe?”
Scott nodded. “Indeed, my lord,” he said. “He is our father.”
