The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 57
Atilius could see that the knight had no intention of shirking what he saw as his duty. “The moment my brother agreed to the betrothal, the lady became his property,” he said steadily. “Given that I am here on behalf of my brother, I say that there is no longer any need for your escort. You can return to William Marshal and tell him that you delivered the lady to the earl’s brothers.”
“Without confirmation from Tatius de Shera, I cannot and will not release her to your custody.”
They were quickly reaching a stalemate that could turn bad very quickly. Kress moved to stand in front of Cadelyn, indicating for Susanna to take charge of her. He also motioned to Achilles, who did the unthinkable at that moment – he partially withdrew his broadsword as Susanna grabbed Cadelyn by the wrist and pulled her over towards the stairs. Achilles put himself between the moving women and the de Shera men, who were starting to move as Cadelyn moved.
Kress’ broadsword came out and he wielded it as Susanna and Cadelyn and Achilles ran up the steps. Bric drew his sword and he leapt up on a table to chop down the first fool who tried to intercept the ladies. Alexander was the only one who hadn’t unsheathed his sword as he took a few steps towards Atilius and Fabius. Fabius had also unsheathed his weapon, but Atilius, so far, had not.
“As a knight yourself, you understand that I have orders and I must obey them,” Alexander said calmly. “I believe the lady is feeling better, so I would wager to say that departing on the morrow is acceptable. But the escort from William Marshal shall escort her all the way to The Paladin. You may accompany us if you wish. At this time, this is the only option.”
He said it with finality, but now he was also coming to realize why de Shera had brought two hundred heavily-armed men with him. They fully intended to take possession of Cadelyn whether or not Alexander agreed, and that smacked of abduction to him. Tatius was nowhere to be found, yet his brothers had come for the lady and were prepared to take her by force.
There was something definitely wrong.
Therefore, Alexander waited for Atilius’ response, which wasn’t long in coming. Atilius put his hand out to Fabius, motioning for his brother to sheathe his weapon. He looked at Alexander as one does when sizing up a cunnig opponent; there was displeasure on his features.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Since you have your orders, you will complete them. We shall wait until tomorrow to depart for The Paladin.”
Alexander had to admit that he was relieved, but he was on his guard. He didn’t believe for one moment that they were going to reliquish their prize so easily. He simply nodded, backing away, as Fabius ordered the armed soldiers out of the tavern and Atilius motioned to Nesta, who was still standing there fuming.
But they were leaving and that was all that mattered.
For the moment.
In fact, that was all that Atilius was really thinking of – to get out of there before Nesta said something that would give The Marshal’s escort an idea of what they had planned for the lady, who clearly had no interest in anything Welsh. He didn’t want a bloodbath to get to her; at least, not yet. He’d rather speak to his brother and Nesta about all of this and have a plan before they did anything. He didn’t want to chance that the lady might somehow get hurt in a fight.
But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one coming.
Outside, the daylight greeted them. As the door to the tavern slammed, Fabius was in his brother’s face.
“What was that about?” he demanded. “We have enough men. We could have taken her!”
Atilius grabbed him by the neck and turned him around, pushing him towards his horse. “If we try to take her, we risk bloodshed,” he growled. “While I am unconcerned with cutting down Marshal knights, I am concerned with injuring the lady. We need her whole and sound for our purposes.”
Nesta was scurrying alongside them as they headed for their mounts. “She does not know who she is!” she hissed. “She will not be the leader of a great rebellion. She will kill morale and spirit by telling her people that she is a Saesneg!”
Atilius came to an abrupt halt and faced her. “Not necessarily,” he said. “We can use that to our advantage. When your men see how the English have beaten her down and convinced her that she is one of them, there will be such outrage that Wales will be unable to contain it. Think not for one moment her attitude will not work to our advantage. I assure you that it shall.”
With that, he turned for his horse, taking it from the soldier who was holding the reins. As he prepared to climb into the saddle, Fabius stopped him.
“What now?” he demanded. “Where are you going?”
Atilius had that look of displeasure again, but also a look of determination. “There is a tavern at the other end of town,” he said. “It caters to outlaws and drunks, but it does not have The Marshal’s men in it and that makes it most attractive.”
“Attractive for what?”
“To make plans to abduct the lady.”
It was then that Fabius began to understand. A gleam came to his eye. “I see,” he said. “Then we wait until their guard is down and we go in and take her?”
Atilius shook his head. “I doubt their guard will be down now. But even so, we can easily overcome them. We simply have to be smart about it and the lady shall be ours.”
With that, the column began to move, heading back the way they had come to the opposite side of town where a seedy tavern awaited. But even as Atilius and Fabius and Nesta moved in that direction, Atilius had the de Shera soldiers fan out and cover all exits out of town just in case The Marshal escort, lady included, decided to flee.
The stakes in the situation were higher than ever.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
For a man who hadn’t been out of The Paladin much in all of his forty-one years, he was doing fairly well on his own.
Tatius wasn’t stupid; he could be cunning and this was one time when that particular trait was called upon. He had to dig down deep to find that young man who had trained as a knight those years ago and who had been mentored by some of the best fighting men England had to offer. He didn’t really remember that young man, however – it had been so long since he’d recalled him that it seemed like another lifetime ago. That young knight with the weight of a great empire upon his shoulders and extreme pressure from a father who wanted a son to be just like him.
Aurelius de Shera had been a hard man. A very hard man. The harder he pushed, the more Tatius retreated. Atilius and Fabius had risen to that kind of treatment, constantly trying to appease a father who could never be appeased, but Tatius had shied away from his father’s heavy hand. By the time Antoninus was born, Aurelius was older and had mellowed somewhat. Antoninus never took the brunt that his much older brothers had, resulting in a young man who didn’t harbor the resentful memories that Tatius had.
The hatred towards a father who saw his heir as a weakling.
But one thing Tatius did have, that his father also had, was a clever streak. He may have been a man of gentle hobbies, and even a recluse at times, but he could be quite shrewd. Following his brothers after having heard their plans in that dark and dank servant’s chamber caused him to draw upon the training he’d had long ago, and he had followed a heavily-armed de Shera contingent all the way to the town of Longton.
In truth, it had been rather exciting for a man who rarely left his home. Tatius had dressed in a disguise for his foray, in servant’s clothing with a heavy cloak he used to cover himself up with, and he’d taken his fine steed southward. A man of such slovenly dress appeared odd upon such a fine horse, but Tatius didn’t pay much mind to how strange he looked. His horse was a good one and he wanted a strong steed for the travel.
Two days later, the de Shera contingent rolled into Longton and came to a halt in the middle of the day, which told Tatius that they’d reached their destination. He’d spent the night sleeping in the bushes and days trying to stay out of sight, but once the de Shera army came to a stop, he’d directed his horse into the trees that grew in great groves off to the east of the village. Tying off the horse, he snuck back into town, through gardens and alleyways, until he came to the edge of the main street. It was there he saw his brothers, and Nesta, gathering and talking before entering a three-storied tavern.
Once Tatius saw that, he slipped around to the rear of the buildings that lined the street, making his way to the back entrance of the tavern, hiding out from the servants passing in and out of the open kitchen door and into the yard beyond.
It was a kitchen yard that also acted as a stable yard, because chickens clustered near their coop over in a corner and a cow was tied up as a servant milked it. A massive iron cauldron bubbled over a white-hot fire, heating water that was meant for a variety of uses.
Tatius wanted to go into the rear of the establishment and find out what was going on, but with the servants lingering in the yard and near the door, he couldn’t get close. Therefore, he slipped around front, waiting and watching for his brothers to emerge from the inn.
Unfortunately, it was a bit of a wait. Huddled up against the side of the inn, Tatius covered himself up with the cloak, protecting against the chill in the air but also to conceal himself. If any de Shera soldiers happen to see him, he didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to look like any other villager who might be living in alleyways or on the street. In fact, he even rubbed some dirt on himself to add to the disguise, congratulating himself on his ingenuity. And then he waited, entertaining himself with recollections of the last time he’d left The Paladin.
It had been a very long time, indeed.
But then, something surprising happened – less than a half-hour after entering the inn, Atilius and Fabius and Nesta re-emerged. Tatius heard Atilius’ voice as the man walked right past him, with Fabius and Nesta following. They were hissing about something Tatius couldn’t quite hear, but he didn’t need to hear it to know that whatever they were speaking of was serious. Atilius’ tone spoke volumes.
Tatius knew his brother well enough to know the man was irritated.
Therefore, Tatius remained tucked up against the wall, watching his army move out and head to the opposite side of town. Overhead, clouds were gathering and Tatius didn’t want to be caught in the rain. It was as good an excuse as any to gather himself and head inside, looking for the escort of William Marshal and wondering if Atilius’ irritation was because he hadn’t found the escort.
Based on what he’d heard his brothers speaking of, Tatius knew they were supposed to be in Longton and they had assumed it was The Crown and Anchor Inn. But perhaps they’d been wrong, because the entire army had moved to the other side of town. In any case, Tatius headed inside the structure that had a big sign nailed to the wall above the door – The Crown and Anchor Inn.
The common room of the tavern was spacious and surprisingly warm, smelling of fresh bread and a hard-packed dirt floor. It was also strangely empty except for three knights, who were standing over near the staircase that led to the upper floor. As soon as Tatius entered, the knights swiftly turned in his direction in an edgy manner. As they faced each other in the dimness of the chamber, he immediately saw the tunics they wore – the split green and yellow three-point shield with the red lion – the standard of William Marshal.
He’d found what he was looking for.
Quickly, he put up his hands.
“Please,” he said as he made his way over to them, timidly. “I seek William Marshal’s escort, the one bringing Lady Cadelyn to The Paladin. I will presume that is you?”
A very big knight with blond hair and piercing blue eyes seemed to put himself out in front of the others. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Identify yourself before I throw you out on your ear.”
Tatius knew that he probably would, too, so he hastened to prevent the knight from doing such a thing. He held up his hands to beg patience.
“I have something to show you,” he said, slowly pulling back his cloak to expose his clothing, which was worn and somewhat dirty from the mud he’d rubbed on himself. “I will show you who I am.”
With that, he pulled forth a dagger, very slowly, and set it on the nearest table. He also removed one of his gloves, which were his fine riding gloves, and pulled off a ring, setting that on the table next to the dagger. Then, he stood back and invited the knights to inspect what he’d placed on the table.
The knights eyed the stuff for a moment before the knight that had spoken to him took a step towards the table, paused and scratched his neck, and then took another few steps to the table to look down at what had been laid upon it. He only observed for a moment, and didn’t touch, before finally picking up the ring and inspecting it. That was when he turned to Tatius with a different expression.
Incredulity, perhaps.
“This is the seal of the House of de Shera,” he said. “What do you have to do with de Shera?”
Tatius maintained his position a few feet away. “I am Tatius de Shera,” he said. “I am the Earl of Ellesmere and I followed my brothers here because I was not invited. They came without my permission.”
That brought a very strong reaction from the other two knights, both of whom rushed the table to inspect the elegant and very expensive dagger with the de Shera crest as well as the ring. A second knight with dark hair spoke.
“You are Ellesmere?” he said, shock in his voice.
Tatius nodded. “I am,” he said. “I would swear upon my oath as a knight if I could, only I have not been a knight in over twenty years. I have not been on a battlefield in that long. William Marshal could identify me, but since he is not here, I suppose my brothers could – but I pray you do not ask them to. They want me dead and if you ask them, it will be my death warrant.”
The three knights gazed at him in various degrees of shock, concern, and doubt. It was clear that puzzlement was more prevalent than anything, which was understandable considering Tatius had always kept himself away from armies and battle. Then, one of the men broke off from the group, a knight with blond hair so pale that it was white, and bolted through the front door. The aged panel slammed in his wake, leaving the other two knights standing by the table inspecting what Tatius had left there for them to scrutinize.
Tatius was very concerned about the knight who had swiftly departed.
“If he goes to find my brothers, I shall be dead by morning, I assure you,” he said again, more insistent. “I will leave this instant and you will never know why I have come if he has gone off to find my brothers.”
The knight with the dark hair shook his head. “I do not believe he has done that,” he said. “He would not have done it without consulting with me.”
“Then where has he gone?”
“I do not know.”
Tatius was feeling nervous. He rushed to the table and collected his ring and his dagger, backing away towards the kitchens and the rear door.
“My brothers have a scheme and I have come to tell you of it,” he said. “But you shall never know what it is if you bring my brothers here and the lady you have escorted will be in grave danger. Do you understand me?”
The blond knight with the golden beard stepped forward. “What scheme?” he asked. “What is going on? And if you are Tatius de Shera, why are your brothers here without you?”
Tatius opened his mouth to reply but the entry door opened again and the white-haired knight returned with someone in his grasp. When Tatius recognized a de Shera soldier, he started to bolt, but the blond knight grabbed him and refused to let him go. Tatius struggled as the white-haired knight dragged the soldier across the common room until they were near Tatius and the blond knight. The white-haired knight grabbed the soldier by the skull and forced his head in Tatius’ direction.
“Tell me who this is,” the white-haired knight said in a heavy Irish brogue.
The soldier, who had a big bruise on his cheek that was swelling right before their eyes, looked fearfully at Tatius. Timidly, he pointed.
“Him, my lord?”
The white-haired knight nodded. “Him. Who is he?”
The soldier blinked as if confused by the question. “He… why, that is Lord Ellesmere, my lord.”
Now, it made sense why the white-haired knight had rushed out when he did – he’d gone to find someone to identify the stranger without seeking out Atilius or Fabius. The brown-haired knight hissed.
“Where did you get him?” he asked the white-haired knight.
The man jerked his head in the direction of the street. “The de Shera army is trickling down to the other side of town,” he said. “I grabbed this straggler.”
“No one saw you?”
“No one.”
With the stealth of the white-haired knight’s movements established, all eyes turned to Tatius, still in the grasp of the blond knight, who immediately released him.
“My apologies, my lord,” the blond knight said. “I am Kress de Rhydian. The clever Irishman is Bric MacRohan, and the third knight is Alexander de Sherrington. He is our escort commander.”
Tatius didn’t say anything for the moment. He was still looking at the de Shera soldier, who was in Bric’s grip, appearing absolutely terrified.
“You cannot let him return to the army,” he told the knights. “He will tell my brothers that he has seen me.”
Before anyone could respond, Bric planted his fist in the soldier’s jaw, knocking the man unconscious in one swift blow. As he crumpled at their feet, out cold, Kress shook his head at the brutality of that move. It was very nearly comical, but it served its purpose.
“Apparently, that will not be a problem, at least not right now,” he said ironically. “Do not worry about that soldier, my lord. We would not betray your presence or allow it to be betrayed. You said that your brothers have a scheme and that your life is in danger? We are listening, my lord. Please tell us.”
