Rod could see that Bretton wasn’t going anywhere unless he told him. He wanted to lie about it but he wasn’t sure that was wise. In fact, it was probably better if he was truthful with him. There was so much at stake here, for all of them.
“Grandfather is there,” he finally said, watching Bretton’s expression flicker with surprise. “And… and someone else.”
“Whoelse?”
Rod sighed heavily. “Do you fear the fourth rider so much that you would refuse to come unless I tell you?”
Bretton crossed his big arms. “Nay,” he said. “I do not fear anyone. But now you have made me wildly curious and until you tell me who all four riders are, I will not come and neither will the lady.”
Rod met his cousin’s gaze with steely determination. “And if you do not come, then they will let loose almost three thousand men on Cloryn. This castle will not survive such a siege and you know it.”
“Then why will you not tell me who the fourth rider is?”
“Because I am afraid you will not believe me.”
“Would you lie to me, then?”
“Never.”
“Then tell me and I will believe you.”
Rod had no choice. He eyed the lady, still standing there, listening to everything that had been said, before refocusing on his cousin again.
“I would prefer to tell you in private,” he said softly.
Bretton shook his head. “I have no secrets from Lady Allaston,” he replied. “She is involved in this situation as much as I am. You may speak freely in front of her.”
Rod wiped a weary hand over his face, turning to look at the four riders in the field, pondering their identities, before returning his focus to Bretton.
“Very well,” he said reluctantly. “But in order to tell you who the fourth rider is, I must give you some background. When de Velt came to de Lohr those weeks ago and asked for his assistance in mediating Lady Allaston’s release, it was inevitable that there were discussions of de Velt’s past events. It was also inevitable that the siege of Four Crosses was discussed. In the course of discussing the dead of Four Crosses, your familyincluded, we came to discover that de Velt had not killed a few of the men. He took some of them for forced labor. One man in particular was discussed during the course of the conversation. He had a terrible head injury that had prevented him from remembering anything other than his name. He was a big man, very strong, and after de Velt was finished with him, he went to Alnwick Castle and served as a bodyguard to the Earl of Northumberland. This man gave his name as Morgan, and over the years he became known as John Morgan. Bretton, I am here to tell you that I have met John Morgan. Your father did not perish during the fall of Four Crosses Castle. By some miracle he survived and has been living in Northumberland under the name of John Morgan. John Morgan is the fourth rider.”
Allaston gasped at the news, but Bretton’s expression held steady. His brow was furrowed, listening to every word his cousin spoke, and when Rod was finished, he continued to stand there with a furrowed brow, frozen, as if he had forgotten how to move. He simply stood there, looking at Rod, until very slowly, his eyes moved beyond Rod to the four horsemen in the distance. But he simply stood there, unmoving, and more than likely not breathing. Allaston finally put a timid hand on his arm.
“Bretton?” she asked hesitantly. “Did you hear him? Your father is here! He is not dead!”
Bretton blinked. Then, it was as if he had been hit in the gut, for he exhaled loudly and painfully, suddenly grasping the portcullis for support.
“It… it cannot be,” he breathed.
Rod could see how stunned he was and he moved closer, putting his hand on his cousin’s fingers as they gripped the old iron grate.
“It is true, I swear it,” he said. “Come with me, Bretton. Come and see your father. He is waiting for you.”
Bretton yanked his hands off the portcullis, away from his cousin’s touch. “You are lying!” he roared.
Rod shook his head. “Bretton, I swear upon my oath as a knight that I am not,” he said. “Grandfather is there, too. They are all there waiting for you. Won’t you please come and see them?”
Bretton was in a world of denial. “It is a trick,” he hissed. “Witchcraft! My father died twenty-five years ago!”
Rod shook his head firmly. “Your father was very badly injured twenty-five years ago,” he said. “He survived but he had no recollection of who he was. He does not remember me or grandfather. Will you please come and see him? Mayhap he will remember you.”
Bretton was seized with shock and disbelief. He stumbled back, slumped against the wall of the gatehouse. His hands were at his mouth as if to hold back his astonishment.
“Why did you bring him?” he demanded. “Why?”
Rod watched his cousin, the mighty mercenary who had so flawlessly planned the destruction of Jax de Velt’s empire, crumble before him. The man was falling apart.
“Because we want to exchange Morgan de Llion for Lady Allaston,” he said urgently. “Your father is not dead, Bretton. If he is not dead, then there is no cause for vengeance against de Velt. If you will not come and see your father, then we will take him away and you will never know the truth!”
