She shook her head unsteadily. “Nay,” she replied. “He has not gone to war since I have been alive. I have never known my father to fight.”
That seemed to surprise the knight, for his eyes flickered and she thought she saw confusion in the mysterious depths. There was puzzlement at the very least.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“I have seen nineteen years.”
The knight’s sense of confusion seemed to increase. “Your father has not gone to war in nineteen years?” he asked as if astounded by the mere thought. “But he is a warlord. How is that possible?”
Allaston wasn’t sure what all of these questions were about, but as long as she continued answering him, the knight seemed to remain calm. She was determined to keep him calm.
“I do not know,” she said. “He… he did do some warring before I was born. I know because my mother told me, but I have never known the man to fight, even when his liege called for aid. My father sent his men but he did not go.”
“Who is his liege?”
“Yves de Vesci, Earl of Northumberland.”
The knight just stared at her. His grip seemed to lessen as he pondered her words, but the confusion in his expression was soon replaced by suspicion.
“Your father is the most wicked warlord ever to walk the earth,” he finally said. “His atrocities are legend. Surely you know this.”
Allaston was perplexed by the path of the conversation but she was afraid to say the wrong thing. His grip on her arm had lessened, that was true, but she was positive it would grow brutalagain the moment she said something he didn’t like. She could see it in his eyes, an edginess that bordered on madness.
“I have heard of my father’s past,” she said honestly. “My mother has told us… things. But he has not done that in over twenty years.”
The knight just stared at her. It was apparent that the entire conversation with her had him seriously mystified. Allaston gazed back at him, waiting for the next barrage of questions and fearful that she would say something to displease him. He’d already proven he would kill with the slightest provocation. She didn’t want to become his next victim. After several long seconds of staring at her, of perhaps mulling over his next move, his grip on her tightened once again and he dragged her over to one of the knights standing nearby. He thrust her at the man.
“Take her,” he ordered. “No harm will come to her. Is that clear?”
The knight reached out and grabbed Allaston by the arm. “Aye, my lord.”
He began to walk away with her in his grip but Allaston dug her heels in. “Wait,” she said anxiously, craning her neck over her shoulder to look at the big knight. “Where are you taking me?”
The knight with the bright blue eyes didn’t answer. He simply flicked his hand at the knight holding Allaston and the man yanked on her, pulling her away and back towards the bulk of the army. The knight with the bright blue eyes watched her go, watching her as she disappeared into the darkness and contemplating his next move. It wasn’t long in coming. He crooked a finger and motioned to the nearest knight.
“Find me one woman and one woman only,” he said. “Make sure she is sane and speaks clearly. I have a message for her to deliver.”
The knight with the big scar across his lip nodded. “Aye, my lord,” he said. “And the others?”
The big knight’s gaze moved to the priory behind them, now burning solidly. Heavy, dense smoke spit into the night sky and the fire was spreading. Soon, it would hit the dormitory where the women had come from. He didn’t want to leave an entire herd of witnesses, witnesses who could come back to haunt him in more ways than he could comprehend. He was a man who tended to eliminate anything, or anyone, who could contest or oppose him. He was a man who had learned a long time ago the value of a human life; there was none.
“Take them back into the church and lock them in,” he said, his voice low. “Make sure the doors are secured so they cannot get out. The fire will do the rest.”
The knight with the scar nodded smartly and went on his way, muttering the orders to the other knights and a few soldiers standing nearby and, together, the group of them began herding the women back towards the burning priory. The women, realizing that they were being corralled to their doom, began to wail and plead for their lives. Before the big knight turned back for his charger, he saw a couple of his soldiers grab two or three of the women and pull them away from the pack. As he mounted his horse, he could hear the screams of those women being raped.
It made no impression on him. Nothing in life ever did. He had a mission and he had since he’d been five years of age. Nothing was going to stop him in his quest to see his mission completed and now he had what he had come for. After years of planning, of suffering, and of hard work, his scheme was about to come to fruition as he’d hoped. He finally had a de Velt.
Now, he would set the trap.
CHAPTER TWO
Lioncross Abbey Castle
Hereford, Welsh Marches
Three weeks later, the month of June
The Earl ofHereford and Worcester was a man known throughout England. Much like William Marshal or Hubert de Burgh, Christopher de Lohr had the reputation of power, wisdom, and connections to the crown but, unlike the other two, when it came to the de Lohr dynasty, there was much more fear and admiration in the mix. The man, and his brother, David, had seen much service in the name of Richard, much of it in The Levant and in France, and that made them more experienced warriors than most. The de Lohr war machine was legendary.
