The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 42
“You worry too much, Tatius,” he said. “We will be rich and powerful, all of us. And with your Welsh heritage, I would think you would be more sympathetic to the plight of your own people.”
Tatius didn’t reply. Fabius waited a few seconds, but realizing Tatius had no intention of answering, he simply turned and left the hall, following Atilius’ path out. That left Tatius and Antoninus in the hall, alone, as the servants began to filter in, stoking the hearth and lighting the fat tapers to give the chamber some illumination. From his position over near the door, where he’d been listening to every word, Antoninus went to his eldest brother.
Wise, kind, and compassionate Antoninus. He was a godsend to his eldest brother, but too young to take a stand against the middle brothers at this point. He’d only get himself killed. Tatius knew this; he pitied his youngest brother greatly for being born into such a house.
“You cannot stop them, Tatius,” Antoninus said quietly, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “They are ruthless and ambitious, both of them. All they see is the opportunity for lands of their own. They resent you for what you have and they will use any opportunity to gain possessions for themselves.”
Tatius turned to his youngest brother; powerfully built, even at his age, he was handsome, with green eyes and dark blond hair. He was a man of good character and Tatius loved him dearly. He lifted a hand, putting it against Antoninus’ cheek.
“How is it that we have such a strong, noble lion amidst a den of vipers?” he asked, a smile on his lips. “You are my guiding light, Antoninus. I do not know what I would do without you.”
Antoninus returned his smile. “I fear for you, Tatius. I fear what will happen to you once they have what they want. They envy everything you have.”
Tatius shook his head, dropping his hand from his brother’s face to pour himself more wine. “They can have it,” he muttered. “If I could simply give it over to them, I would, but something stops me.”
“What?”
He glanced at his brother. “The fear of what they would do to you if they did not have me to focus their venom on.”
Antoninus frowned. “I can take care of myself, Brother.”
Tatius smiled faintly as he lifted his full cup. “I know,” he said. “But I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“I want you to ride south to Lioncross Abbey,” he said. “Christopher de Lohr is the Warden of the Marches. I want you to tell him what is happening.”
Antoninus’ frown grew. “You want me out of the way so I will not have to be involved in what Atilius and Fabius are planning.”
Tatius sighed heavily. “I want you to be safe,” he said quietly. “And I want de Lohr to know what those two jackals are planning. Will you do this?”
“Nay.”
“Please, Antoninus.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Who will protect you?”
That brought tears to Tatius’ eyes. He went to his brother again, pulling the man’s forehead to his lips and kissing him gently. “They will not touch me, not now,” he said. “They need me for this marriage. But they do not need you for anything. Please, Antoninus – please go to de Lohr and tell him what is happening. The man must know and I cannot tell him myself.”
Antoninus was weakening with his brother’s logic. “But what will you tell those two about my absence?”
Tatius waved him off. “That is simple,” he said. “I will tell them that I have sent you into Wrexham to select a wedding present for my new bride. A new horse, mayhap. There is a broker in Wrexham who deals in exotic horses. They will have no reason to disbelieve that.”
He was right. Antoninus knew that. Still, he didn’t want to leave Tatius alone. “Are you certain?”
“I am. Hurry, now. There is no time to waste if my betrothed is on her way.”
Antoninus nodded reluctantly. “Very well,” he said. “I will go, but I will hurry back.”
“I know you will.”
Antoninus turned away from his brother, hesitantly, glancing back at the man as he made his way to the hall entry. More people were filtering in now as the evening meal was approaching, and Tatius lifted a hand to his brother, waving at him encouragingly, hoping Antoninus would obey him and do what he was told. He loved his younger brother dearly, but he was stubborn sometimes. Tatius hoped this wasn’t one of those times.
All of northern Wales was about to go up in a voracious blaze of fire and rebellion, and no one would know anything about it until it was too late.
Ride, Antoninus, ride!
CHAPTER SEVEN
They’d picked up a tail.
About an hour out of Castle Rising on a cool, misty morning, Kress could see the tail they’d picked up as they headed north. It was like a phantom, moving through the mist, and Bric and Achilles were keeping an eye on it as Alexander led the fifty-man escort and Kress kept his focus on the lady in the fortified carriage that was painted with the Summerlin colors of white and blue. Susanna rode on one side of it while Kress rode on the other, and as the mist began to lift, Bric and Achilles were finished playing cat and mouse with their tail.
The thunder of the war horses caught Kress’ attention as he turned to see Bric and Achilles charging back through the lines, going to confront whoever was following them. Given the conversation Kress had heard in Lynn two days before when he’d followed Cadelyn into town and overheard her discussion with the priest, he had a fairly good idea of who it was, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted to see if he was correct.
As it turned out, he was.
Bric and Achilles returned to the escort with a terrified man on a small, shaggy palfrey between them. Since Kress had never really gotten a good look at the priest Cadelyn had been talking to, he didn’t recognize the man on sight, but he noted the rough, woolen robes and was fairly convinced of who he was.
Alexander, as the mission commander, began to question the man harshly towards the rear of the escort and Kress left his post by the carriage and charged back along the lines until he reached the knights and the frightened priest.
“He is not here to rob us,” he said, interrupting Alexander’s questioning. Then, he looked to the priest who was, in reality, a young man, pale and flabby, with an uneven haircut. “Are you the priest the lady spoke of?”
The young man looked positively terrified. “I… I am her personal priest, my lord,” he stammered. “She told me that she would be heading north today, to her betrothed, and she told me to meet her upon the road.”
“You were following us.”
“I was trying to catch up to you, my lord.”
“Yerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrik!”
The four knights turned to see Cadelyn, out of her carriage and running back along the lines of soldiers, who were looking at her quite curiously. Susanna was right behind her, astride her leggy gray horse, demanding that Cadelyn return to the carriage. But Cadelyn ignored her; she was solely focused on the priest.
“Yerik!” she cried, breathless as she reached them. “You came!”
While Bric, Achilles, and Alexander looked rather confused, Kress simply rolled his eyes impatiently.
“Aye, he came, and nearly got himself killed in the process,” he told her. “Following an armed escort is not the wisest thing to do, my lady.”
Cadelyn looked at Kress, unsure what to say. She hadn’t really spoken to him since their conversation two days ago because all day yesterday had been consumed with packing and preparations. She was well aware that Kress had heard her conversation with the cleric, and he knew she was planning to have the man come along. He also knew why. He knew the whole sordid story and she’d been holding out hope that when this moment came, he would allow the man to come along.
But the truth was that she didn’t know for certain. Two nights ago had been a conversation of confessions, and she’d told Kress her deepest secrets. Then she’d spent all yesterday wondering why she’d done so. She didn’t even know the man and, therefore, had no idea if he’d even permit her to continue that which she so badly wanted to continue. What she’d told him had been shocking and, being a pious knight, she was certain he disapproved. But Yerik was the key to her continued writings and she very much wanted the man along.
Therefore, as she looked at Kress, she was respectful in her reply.
“He is my personal priest,” she said, loudly enough for the other knights to hear. “I told him to meet us on the road because I was unsure what time we would be leaving Castle Rising and I did not want to leave without him. Surely I will not be denied my personal priest to accompany me to my new home.”
From the look on Kress’ face, Cadelyn knew that he was aware of exactly what she was up to but, to her surprise, there was very little resistance in his expression. He didn’t say one word to the contrary. He simply looked at the knight in command.
“I see no harm in it, Sherry, but the decision is yours.”
Alexander looked at the trembling priest, and at the lady, who seemed very eager to have him along. It was clear the pair knew each other so the man’s presence now made some sense. Truthfully, he didn’t see any harm in the priest coming along, either, but he looked at Bric and Achilles as he pointed to the priest.
“Search him,” he said. “Make sure he has no weapons on him.”
Yerik yelped as he was pulled off his palfrey and essentially manhandled. As Cadelyn watched with growing outrage, Bric and Achilles frisked the man, slapped at him, turned him around, and stuck hands down the neck of his robes in their hunt for a hidden weapon. Yerik had a small satchel tied to his primitive saddle and they pulled that apart, taking out writing implements and small pieces of parchment, and small phials that contained pigment. When Bric stuck his finger into an inkwell and pulled back with a black digit, Cadelyn called a halt to the search.
“Enough,” she scolded, scowling at Bric as she crouched down and began putting Yerik’s possessions back into his meager satchel. “I hope that finger stays black forever. What did you think you were going to find in an inkwell? A dagger to slit my throat?”
Bric simply lifted an eyebrow at her as he turned to the side of the road and began wiping his finger off on any foliage he could find. Achilles simply stood aside, as did Alexander and Kress, watching as Cadelyn and the cleric put everything back in his torn satchel. When Cadelyn stood up, it was to face the three knights.
“Yerik is going to ride in the carriage with me,” she said in a tone that did not invite debate. “Will you please secure his horse?”
Kress looked at Alexander, who looked at Achilles. The implication that he tend to the animal was obvious. Unhappily, Achilles took hold of the small horse and went to secure it behind a provisions wagon. Meanwhile, Cadelyn grabbed Yerik by the arm and began pulling the man up towards her carriage. The four knights watched her go before Alexander snapped his fingers at them.
“Get back to your posts,” he grumbled. “Let us continue moving. At this rate, it will take us weeks to get to The Paladin. We are already moving slower than I would like to.”
The knights mounted their war horses again, spreading out among the escort, which had slowed to a crawl to accommodate their latest addition and the activity surrounding him. But the pace was picking up again as Kress returned to the carriage, noting that Susanna was back in her position as well.
He eyed the woman, but only briefly. Since their return from Lynn two nights ago, she wouldn’t speak to him. She was evidently still convinced that he’d been trying to run away with Cadelyn and he’d done all he was going to do to try and convince her otherwise. If she was that ridiculous, then he simply didn’t have time for her nonsense.
He had work to do.
The mist lifted completely by midday and a bright day was spread out before them. May could be a very wet month but, so far, the rains hadn’t been torrential, or frequent, so the roads were in decent condition. It made travel go faster, fortunately, and even though Alexander had hoped to cover twenty-five miles in a day, they ended up covering close to thirty.
The sun had set and the dampness of the night began to rise up in the fields, creating a bit of a fog, as the large escort entered the burgh of Heckington, which was to be the destination for the night. The rustic village had a big main street that stretched from one end of the town to the other. There were homes mixed with businesses, all of them butted up against the edge of the road, and doors opened and heads stuck out of windows as the noise of the Castle Rising escort moved through the town.
Mounted men on horseback were always something to see, and the town turned out in droves. But it was supper time, and meals were waiting, so women began calling to their husbands and children, and eventually, the audience faded away. More than one child, followed by a dog, darted across the road in front of the soldiers. Some had to pull back for fear of trampling an errant child.
Towards the middle of the town was a well, and a big yew tree that hung over an area where women did their wash during the day. Behind the well was a corral with what looked to be a livery attached. Alexander caught Achilles’ attention.
“See if we can stable the horses there for the night,” he said, pointing to the corral. “And see if they can accommodate men sleeping inside the livery. We need to find a roof over their heads for the night anywhere that it is warm and dry.”
Achilles headed over towards the livery as Bric and Alexander settled the escort down in the well area, at least until they could find the contingent a place to settle for the night. Several of the men asked if they could go into the nearby wood to forage for their meal and Alexander gave them permission.
As the men headed off into the darkness, Kress called over to Susanna, who had planted herself in front of the carriage door as a sentinel.
“Stay here,” he told her. “I will find accommodations for the lady for the night.”
Susanna simply nodded, barely glancing at him, and Kress headed down the road, looking for a tavern or inn that had sleeping accommodations. He found one rather quickly, called The Nag’s Head, and reined his horse alongside. Dismounting, he secured the animal and headed into the warm, stale structure.
The Nag’s Head was a rather big place, with a long, single-story common room attached to a bigger building alongside it. The common room was made of stone, and the second building out of wattle and daub, but there was a carved out doorway connecting the two. The wattle and daub building, whitewashed and with great, dark beams across the façade, had three floors to it, a remarkable size for so small a village.
Entering the stone building, Kress paused by the door and took stock of the place. The common room was only about half-full, with most people hunkered down for the coming night. It smelled strongly of bread and ale, and Kress managed to find the innkeeper, who was more than happy to provide him with what he needed – at least three chambers and a meal. In fact, the inn was empty that night, having six chambers in total in the wattle and daub building attached, so Kress took all of them because they could make good use out of them. Paying the man a handsome sum for both the rooms and an evening meal, he headed out to bring the carriage, and the knights, back to The Nag’s Head.
In truth, it had been a long day and everyone was more than happy to settle down to a good meal and a warm bed. Since the inn’s patrons seemed to be concentrated on one end of the common room where a large hearth was blazing away, the party from Castle Rising gathered on the opposite end of the room where a much smaller hearth snapped and crackled, yet still giving off a goodly amount of heat. There was a long table here, and several smaller ones, all of them leaning or damaged in some manner. Only the longer table had benches that seemed sturdy, so that was where everyone settled.
Alexander, Bric, and Achilles sat at the end near the hearth, leaving the women somewhat removed from it and the heat it provided. Cadelyn and Susanna had entered the establishment with Kress bringing up the rear, and when he saw the knights sitting nearest the fire, he cleared his throat loudly. They looked up at him and as Kress used expressions and minute gestures, they figured out that it would be the chivalrous thing to let Cadelyn sit near the fire. When Alexander stood up and offered her his seat, she took it. Susanna sat across from her when Achilles begrudgingly moved down the bench.
“This is ever so exciting,” Cadelyn said, removing her traveling gloves. “I have never been to an inn.”
Kress was standing next to the hearth, watching the innkeeper and a couple of serving wenches emerge from the kitchens bearing trays of steaming food. He, too, was removing his gloves, tucking them into the belt at his side.
“Not ever?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Never,” she replied. “I have spent my time at either Norwich Castle, when I was younger, or Castle Rising. There are inns in Lynn, of course, but I never stayed in one. Lady Summerlin always told us to be careful of those frequenting inns and taverns.”
Kress snorted. “She is correct,” he said. “We are here to eat and sleep, my lady, and nothing more. An inn is nothing to become excited over. All you’ll find here are beggars and drunks.”
He damaged her enthusiasm a little, but not enough. This was all new to her and she wasn’t going to let the knight’s discouragement spoil her mood. She was still looking around the place, still showing great interest, as the food was placed on the table in front of them and the innkeeper began passing out big, steaming bowls of something thick and liquid. One serving wench poured wine into cups while yet another passed around warm bread and butter.
The food now had Cadelyn’s attention as she peered into the large wooden bowl that had been placed before her. “Sirrah?” she said to the innkeeper. “What have you brought us?”
The man, the dirty sort with missing teeth, pointed to the contents. “Gruel, my lady,” he said. “’Tis a beef gruel. It’s quite good.”
