De Poyer!Word started to spread like wildfire as Jeffrey sent a young, skinny soldier out on a swift horse to make the confirmation. Christopher watched the soldier race off, thundering down the road that led off to the northwest to intercept the approaching army, and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d sent word to de Poyer what seemed like years ago but, in truth, it had only been weeks. Now, de Poyer had come and it looked as if he was bearing several hundred soldiers. His relief was palpable.
The halls of Lioncross would be filled with men of legend tonight.
*
Lioncross had seenits share of important people within her walls, kings and great counselors included, but tonight was different. The men within the walls of Lioncross tonight were men of power, men who had shaped the course of a nation. They were soldiers at heart, born and bred for war.
Keller de Poyer was one of the premier knights of William Marshal, a man who could only be described as the consummate knight. He was a big, muscular man with massive hands, dark hair flecked with gray, and an awkward social manner when he wasn’t with people he knew and respected. He was also one of the most highly intelligent men ever to walk the earth, a razor-sharp mind that the Marshal had greatly depended on. Eight years ago, Keller had been awarded Nether Castle in Powys, Wales, for his dedicated service to the crown. He had married the Nether heiress and, at last count, had five children. For Keller, life had been very good and Christopher was happy for his friend.
Since Keller had manned Pembroke Castle for years as the garrison commander before assuming his property at Nether, the man had a very good handle on the workings of Wales in general. It was this knowledge that he brought to the table, confident and unflappable as always, but even Keller raised an eyebrow when he was introduced to Jax de Velt.
Keller had been a young knight when Jax had ripped through the mid-Welsh Marches, so he was well aware of what the man was capable of. He was surprised to see that de Velt had come peacefully to Lioncross, but in reality, he wasn’t particularly surprised to see him in general. He, too, had heard what was happening on the Marches again and he had even heard about Alberbury. But once he heard that de Velt’s daughter had been abducted by the same mercenary who was claiming de Velt properties, one by one, he began to understand more of what was going on. Something sinister was afoot that could affectthem all. If they didn’t band together, there was no telling what would happen.
“We received word of the fall of Cloryn Castle and Ithon Castle,” Keller was saying, “but we had not heard of Rhayder or Comen. I take it these are recent events?”
The men were sitting around Christopher’s feasting table, a long, heavy thing that had seen much action over the years, both good and bad. In the great hall, the knights gathered, and their retainers stood behind them, on the outskirts of the conversation, and this included Keller’s two knights, Sir William Wellesbourne and George Ashby-Kidd, as well as Jax’s two sons, and Christopher’s men. Rod and Berwyn were standing behind Christopher, listening to every word spoken.
Therefore, the hall was crowded with knights, all of them concerned with what was happening in Wales and along the Marches, so it was time to settle things and establish a plan. They had families and property to defend, and a young woman to save. What was happening along the Marches not only affected Jax, but all of them as well. There was much at stake.
As servants brought forth food and drink, putting it on the table within arm’s reach, Christopher answered Keller’s question.
“The fall of Comen and Rhayder was recent enough,” he replied. “You say you heard of Ithon’s fall?”
Keller nodded. “We received word about it.”
Christopher glanced at Jax, who merely shook his head in disgust. Christopher returned his attention to Keller.
“De Velt received the severed head of Ithon’s garrison commander several weeks back,” he said. “He assumed Ithon had fallen but this is the first we’ve heard independent confirmation.”
“A traveling merchant told me he had seen it with his own eyes,” Keller said. The dark eyes narrowed curiously. “When Iarrived, you briefly explained what was going on, Chris, but surely there is more to it.”
Christopher nodded, with great reluctance. “Unfortunately, there is,” he said. “The mercenary in question landed in Liverpool back in May, from Ireland we believe, and made his way down the Marches to the area that de Velt claimed twenty-five years ago. Everything this mercenary has done has mimicked de Velt’s actions from twenty-five years ago with the exception of torching Alberbury Priory. That was accomplished to abduct de Velt’s eldest daughter. De Velt came to me for assistance, believing a mediator might help his daughter’s cause, so I sent the mercenary a missive at his seat of Cloryn Castle asking for terms of the daughter’s release. What I received in reply was a demand for de Velt himself or his daughter would suffer. Therefore, I sent a second missive, but the answer to that missive seemed to come in the form of the conquest of Comen Castle. At the moment, the mercenary is charging through the mid-Marches unopposed. I fear the time has come for someone to stand in his way or we may risk greater chaos.”
Keller was listening to Christopher with great interest, as were the rest of the knights. Jax, seated across from both Keller and Christopher, seemed to be the most pensive about the situation, and for good reason. In fact, the man struggled not to appear distraught. Keller glanced at the great Dark Lord of legend for a moment before replying.
“It is clear this mercenary is bent on destruction against de Velt,” he said. “Do we even know who it is?”
Christopher turned to look directly at Rod, standing behind him. He nodded slightly to the man, encouraging him to come forth in spite of the fact that Berwyn was standing next to him.Go ahead, lad. Tell them what you know. In the interest of making sure everyone who would be going to battle against themercenary knew exactly what they were getting in to, there was little choice. Rod cleared his throat softly.
“Back in May when the mercenary first began his raids, Lord de Lohr summoned me to Lioncross Abbey because of a missive had had received from the Earl of Shropshire, Robert de Boulers, detailing the activities of a mercenary creating chaos along the Marches,” he said. “The reason I was summoned was simple– the mercenary gave a name as something Lord de Lohr believed I would recognize. The name was Bretton de Llion.”
Berwyn, standing beside his grandson, grunted with disbelief and hung his head. Rod, hearing his grandfather groan and sigh, continued with more information that Berwyn was not aware of. He had no choice. A glance at Christopher saw the man nodding encouragingly, spurring him onward. The time had come for Berwyn to know the truth of the matter, whether or not he wanted to believe it.
“You must understand that Bretton de Llion is the name of my young cousin, a young man we believed killed when Jax de Velt conquered Four Crosses Castle where my uncle, Bretton’s father, was garrison commander,” Rod said. Then, he shook his head as if at a loss for words. “When I told my grandfather what name the mercenary had used, he refused to believe it. You see, as far as he knows, his son and grandson lost their lives twenty-five years ago at Four Crosses Castle. I, too, believed that until this mercenary appeared, following the path of destruction that de Velt had carved out those years ago. I was curious, nay,morethan curious about the identity of this mercenary so, unbeknownst to my grandfather, I sent a missive to Cloryn Castle, the mercenary’s seat, asking if Bretton de Llion, son of Morgan, would meet me in Newtown. I wanted to meet the man on neutral ground to see if it was, in fact, my cousin whom we believed to be dead. I am sorry to say that it was him. He has returned from the dead as a killer of men.”
Behind Rod, Berwyn had been listening with growing horror, now completely overwhelmed to realize that the mercenary commander was indeed his long-lost grandson. He grabbed hold of Rod’s arm in sheer astonishment but he wasn’t able to speak. His knees gave way and Rod found himself catching his grandfather before the man collapsed completely. Edward, also standing behind Christopher, helped Rod guide his grandfather onto the bench. Gasping for air, his face a mask of disbelief, Berwyn clung to Rod.
“It isnottrue!” he breathed.
Rod held his grandfather tightly. “It is,” he confirmed quietly. “I am sorry I did not tell you. I did not want to upset you. But it seems that you must know, for it is indeed Bretton tearing up the Marches. It seems that he escaped the carnage at Four Crosses and has spent all of this time gathering an army to return for revenge. He did not want me to tell you that he is alive, but I fear I must break my vow to him. He is alive and he is not a man you or I would hope to be associated with. He is death.”
For the most part since Berwyn’s arrival at Lioncross, Christopher had made sure to keep Berwyn and Jax apart for obvious reasons. The old man had been aware of Jax’s presence, as told to him by Christopher, but it had been explained to him in no uncertain terms that Jax was at Lioncross peacefully and any past hatred or grudges would not be played out at this time.
It had taken Berwyn two days to come to terms with the fact that de Velt was at Lioncross but he still hadn’t met the man face to face until today, at this moment, in this council. He’d remained remarkably silent about everything, as he had been instructed, but at this moment, all he could feel was utter hatred and agony. He looked over at de Velt, seated across the table from them, and his careful control shattered.
“You,” he gasped. “You did this to my family. You destroyed Four Crosses Castle and my son and his family along with it. Youput my son on a stake and let the birds pluck his eyes out, and you murdered his wife and my grandchildren. You did this, you bastard! You brought this all down on yourself, do you hear?”
Rod grabbed his grandfather, yanking him up from the bench and dragging the old man from the room.
