Rod nodded understandingly, drawing in a long, steadying breath. After a moment, he stood up, kicked the chair back, and withdrew his broadsword.
“My lady, please back away,” he said evenly. “My horse is around back, a black steed with four white feet. You can make it to my horse as I hold off my cousin. Ride hard south to Bronllys Castle and tell my grandfather who you are. He will help you.”
Allaston’s eyes widened with shock, looking at Bretton, who remained calmly in his seat. But his eyes were fixed on Rod.
“Is this truly what you wish to do, Rod?” Bretton asked. “I will not let her go, so you are in for a fight. If you think you can best me, I invite you to try.”
“Wait!” Allaston stood up, putting her hands out, eventually rounding the table and putting herself between Rod and Bretton. “I am not leaving, Sir Rod, although I appreciate your chivalry. I must remain with Bretton.”
Rod’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. “Why would you do that?” he asked. “He has abducted you. He burned an entire priory and killed dozens of nuns for the privilege. And you say that you must stay with him? I do not understand.”
Allaston faced off against Rod, a big man with a big sword. “Because he wants to kill my father,” she said, wondering if he would understand her logic. “As long as I remain with him, mayhap I can convince him otherwise. If I flee now, he will continue with his vengeance against my father and I do not wish to see my father killed.”
Rod did indeed understand her reasoning. He didn’t like it, but he understood. “So you are voluntarily remaining with him?”
Allaston nodded firmly. “I am,” she said. Then, her eyes glimmered with pain. “I must.”
Rod sighed heavily and, giving the woman a somewhat sorrowful expression, sheathed his broadsword. As if he hadn’t just drawn his sword against his cousin, he collected his seat,took the cup away from Bretton, and drained the contents. He found that he needed it.
“This is all so damn confusing,” he said, pouring more wine. “Since when do prisoners want to remain with their captors? I was prepared to go head to head against my own flesh and blood for you, my lady.”
Allaston was still standing up, now closer to Rod than she was to Bretton. “And I appreciate your chivalry, as I said,” she replied. “But I will not leave Sir Bretton. I choose to remain.”
“I am not ‘Sir’ Bretton,” Bretton muttered. “I am simply Bretton. Slaves and mercenaries are not usually knighted, as it is a noble profession. My profession is not noble and I was never knighted.”
Both Rod and Allaston looked at him with some surprise. “All de Llion men are knighted,” Rod said frankly. “We have never had a man in our family who has not been knighted. I can knight you right now, as I was knighted personally by King Richard. So was my brother, Rhys. I will knight you, Bretton.”
Bretton’s first reaction was one of surprise and gratitude. Of course he had always wanted to be a knight. It had been a dream of his since he had been very young. He was certainly skilled enough, but there was more to it than that, enough so that he knew he would never make a true knight. He had committed too much wrongdoing against the church, against mankind in general, for him to be an honor to the knighthood. It was something that was not possible in his world.
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “Knights are sworn to uphold the chivalric code and that is something I cannot and will not do. I respect the knighthood enough not to want to sully it.”
Rod was perplexed. The man before him was not what he had expected, although he wasn’t sure what, exactly, he had hoped for. It was clear that Bretton de Llion was a complex man, one that Rod didn’t entirely relate to or understand. His hopes forforging a relationship with the man were slowly being dashed because it was clear that Bretton wanted no such thing. After a moment’s pause, he shook his head.
“There are strange forces at work around you, Bretton,” he said. “Although I am still very glad to find you alive, I am not sure what goes on with you. You are not the cousin I expected.”
Bretton looked at the man. “Whatdidyou expect?” he asked, a tinge of anger in his tone. “My family was killed when I was five years old and I escaped with a few servants although sometimes I wonder if it would have been better had I died. The servants sold me into slavery to a man who raped me repeatedly, and when I was old enough to escape him, I squired for an Irish mercenary who would get drunk and beat me to a pulp until I was old enough to best him in a fight. Unlike you and your posh life where you were loved and taken care of, I have had to fight for every breath I’ve ever taken. I’ve had to fight for everything I have. Vengeance against Jax de Velt has been the only thing keeping me alive and I swear to God that I will finish what I started. So do not judge me, cousin. You have no right. No right at all.”
With that, he stood up and grabbed Allaston by the arm, pulling her up with him. But Rod stood up, reaching out to grasp Bretton before he could get away.
“I am sorry, Bretton, truly,” he said. “Do not leave. I did not mean to offend you. I understand that it has not been easy for you and, believe me, I am not judging you. No matter who you are or what you’ve done to get there, you are still my cousin and I am very glad to know you have returned. As for the rest… well, I would never judge you in any case whether or not I agree with your methods.”
Bretton eyed his cousin, somewhat soothed by the man’s words. Slowly, he regained his seat, as did Allaston.
“I do not even know why I came here today,” Bretton muttered after he’d sat back down. “Wild curiosity, I suppose. I wanted to know how you found me. I wanted to know why no one ever came looking for me. Now, I know everything. You have heard about me and I have heard about you. I am not entirely sure if there is much more to say between us.”
Rod was still holding on to Bretton’s arm as if fearful the man was going to run off. “Mayhap there is not,” he said softly. “But we are family. I would like to come to know you better, Bretton.”
“Why?” Bretton wanted to know. “It is not as if we shall be allies or friends. I am your cousin and nothing more. We share blood and that is all.”
Rod could sense the wall of resistance up around Bretton. He’d sensed it from the beginning. “Will you at least come and see Grandfather?” he asked softly.
Bretton shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said. “The man remembers an eager five year old lad. Let that be all he remembers about me, not the man I am today. I am not entirely sure he would be proud of what I have become.”
Rod felt a distinct sense of sorrow on his grandfather’s behalf. “Then you do not want me to tell him I have found you?”
“Nay.”
Rod nodded. “If that is your wish.”
