Samuel let out a mournful cry and grabbed his shoulder, sinking to his knees. Susanna, acting on instinct, rushed to help her brother, but Achilles was there, throwing his arm out and catching her around the torso as she bolted past him. He held on fast, pulling her back and away, but it was like trying to wrestle a wild horse.
“Stop,” he hissed in her ear. “This is what he wants. He wants an excuse to cut you down. Stop!”
Through her haze of rage and fear, Susanna heard him. As she struggled to calm down, de Meynell turned his venom on her.
“I told you what would happen if you resisted,” he said, holding up the dagger stained with Samuel’s blood. “You did not believe me and I was forced to prove my intentions. Continue resisting and I will poke your brother full of holes until all of the blood drains from him. One infraction, one wound. That is the price.”
Susanna was so angry that she was trembling. Achilles could feel her in his grip but he held her tightly, afraid of what would happen should he let go. With Samuel on his knees on the ground, bloodied hand over his left shoulder, Achilles could see that the situation was going from bad to worse. He caught a glimpse of Caius and Alexander, who had their eyes trained on de Meynell. Like the good knights they were, their eyes were on the threat to see what he was going to do next.
Achilles was afraid that the next target would be Susanna. He, too, was watching de Meynell very closely. All he knew was that he would defend Susanna to the death which, in this instance, might very well be the case. Coiled up, he watched.
He waited.
“Let us return to business,” de Meynell said, still gripping the bloodied dagger. “Lady Susanna, do we understand one another now?”
Susanna didn’t respond at first but a squeeze from Achilles had her nodding. “Aye.”
De Meynell nodded. “Good,” he said. “Now, then. I believe I have finally figured you out. It would seem that you are part of a ring of spies, spies that you brought to Aysgarth. Now your fellow brethren have come to free you.”
Susanna shook her head. “That is not true,” she insisted. “I am the only one at fault here. They are innocent. Let them go and I will confess everything to you.”
De Meynell stopped his pacing. He looked at Susanna in surprise, as did nearly everyone else, Caius and Alexander included. Achilles was holding her tightly but she was pulling away. The harder he held on to her, the more she pulled until she finally peeled his hands off of her and escaped his grip.
“You have wanted a confession,” she said to de Meynell. “I will give you one. But you will let these men go.”
De Meynell cocked his head thoughtfully. “My lady, I need no confession,” he said. “The appearance of your comrades proves that you are a spy. You were sending word to d’Avignon of Richmond Castle and the man miraculously appeared, which means you must have been sending him information prior to the missive we intercepted. He brought colleagues with him, your colleagues, men who you evidently travel with and are Pembroke knights. They are all part of William Marshal’s dirty deeds and political compost. Everything about them, and you, reeks of your underhandedness. Now they have come to help you escape my custody. What else is there to confess?”
Susanna could see how utterly confident he was and she was sickened by it. From the moment she and Achilles had emerged from the vault until this very second, de Meynell acted like a man who had supreme control, which he did.
He had their lives in his hands.
Behind de Meynell, Samuel was regaining his feet. He was trembling and pale, and the wound was bloody, but he was standing again. Susanna looked at him, seeing her beloved brother so very beaten by this man who had taken everything from him – his legacy, his pride – everything. It was true that Samuel was to blame for the vast majority of his misfortune, but de Meynell gloated over the situation. Now, he had taken to abusing Samuel when Susanna didn’t behave the way he wanted her to behave.
It was only going to get worse.
Her gaze flickered over to Alexander and the enormous knight standing next to him. It was Caius d’Avignon from what de Meynell had said. She’d never seen the man in her life and she seriously wondered why he had come because his presence made it seem as if, indeed, she’d been passing him information and he’d come to see for himself. It was all too strangely coincidental.
She didn’t blame de Meynell for being suspicious.
But she did blame him for this situation. She didn’t want to provoke him, but they simply couldn’t stand out here in the bailey for the rest of their lives. She had to do something.
Even if she paid the price for that action.
“I have never had contact with Caius d’Avignon,” she finally said. “This is the first I have ever seen of the man even though he has been commander of Richmond Castle for many years. And Alexander and Achilles did not return because we are all part of some great spy ring. We are not, you know. They came back because Achilles wanted to ask my brother for my hand in marriage. It is as simple as that.”
De Meynell looked at Achilles, standing a foot or so behind Susanna. His expression was incredulous. “Marry her?” he repeated. “You want to marry this… this woman?”
Achilles didn’t hesitate. “I do, my lord,” he said. “That was the only reason we returned. It has nothing to do with whatever you seem to think. So you have a big mercenary army here; that is no secret. It is not as if you are trying to hide it, as the entire countryside can see it. Therefore, there is nothing secretive for anyone to discover if it is spies you are looking for.”
De Meynell eyed him. “But d’Avignon is here.”
“I am here because I was traveling to Lancashire and stopped at Aysgarth for the night,” Caius said, sticking to the pretense they’d made back at Richmond. “Aysgarth always sets a fine table and that is the only reason I am here. It is you who have overstepped yourself by stripping me of my weapons and assuming I am here to do you harm.”
“I told you he was here as my guest,” Samuel said, his features strained with pain. “I’ve not lied to you, Witton, not ever. Your paranoia is controlling your common sense.”
De Meynell looked at Samuel, his expression rippling with uncertainty. Suddenly, he wasn’t so much in control. His gaze lingered on Samuel for a long moment before returning his attention to Achilles.
“The fact remains that you took her from the vault,” he said. “You were helping her escape.”
“Because I want to marry her and for no other reason than that.”
It was logical. All of it, logical. But de Meynell wasn’t feeling reasonable or logical at the moment. He had Pembroke knights and the commander of Richmond Castle in his grasp. They were extraordinarily valuable hostages, but they were also dangerous hostages. Especially d’Avignon; his garrison was at the center of everything de Meynell was doing and if the man didn’t know that before, he knew it now. If he let d’Avignon go, he would return and tell everyone what was coming from the Duke of Brittany and there would be no surprise when the mercenary armies moved on Richmond.
But if he kept him, surely Richmond would figure out where he was, and who was holding him, and even with his two thousand mercenaries, de Meynell knew he couldn’t withstand an attack from Richmond and her allies in the north.
It would be a bloodbath.
De Meynell was ambitious, but he wasn’t stupid. D’Avignon aside, he had a real issue with the remaining three Pembroke knights.
“Be that as it may, she is my prisoner,” he answered Achilles belatedly. “She was caught trying to send secretive information to Richmond, so she will remain in the vault until I decide what is to be done with her. You cannot change that.”
Before Achilles could reply, the knight who had been at the inn in Skipton stepped forward. There was an expression of rage on his face.
“She’s not only a spy, but a killer, my lord,” he seethed. “I watched her and those other two Pembroke knights slay three of your men. They killed le Sommes and I saw it w
ith my own eyes. They must be punished!”
De Meynell’s focus was shifted over to the fight at The Horse’s Arse, which more or less started this entire situation. It seemed to be the incendiary point for everything. “Bellerby is right,” he said to Achilles. “I was deprived of a fine captain. You did that.”
“He attacked us first,” Achilles reiterated. “We were eating peacefully when he and his men attacked us first.”
“That is a lie!” Bellerby shouted.
Achilles was a man who never backed down from a fight. He crooked a finger at Bellerby. “You know it is not,” he said. “If you are so concerned with us being punished, then come here and do it yourself. I challenge you.”
Bellerby had seen the big, bald knight in the fight and he wasn’t about to tangle with him, but he’d just been issued an invitation that, to refuse, would make him look like a coward. Desperate to deflect the attention away from him, he turned to de Meynell.
“They are liars and spies, my lord,” he said. “Do you know what the woman told me? That her colleagues were called Executioner Knights. She said they were legendary in The Levant.”
De Meynell was interested. “Is that so? Then it would make sense for them to be at home in a fight and execute my men.”
Bellerby had his lord’s attention and he pressed hard. “Since they like to go around challenging men to fights, why not make a sport of this,” he said. “Let the Executioner Knights fight each other to the death. I will face the winner in vengeance for the colleagues they struck down. I was there, my lord; I saw what happened. Do not permit them to deny what they did. Do not deny me the chance to seek vengeance for my friends who were so cruelly cut down.”
De Meynell rather liked that idea. “You have a point,” he said. “Le Sommes had been with me for a very long time. He did not deserve to die the way he did.”
“He did not, my lord. Make these men pay.”
“Men?” de Meynell looked at him with surprise before returning his attention to those he held prisoner. Specifically, he was looking to Achilles. “Since you killed my captain and two of my finest knights, punishment is not out of order. And since you like to fight so much, you can fight the woman you profess to love. As a spy, it is my right to execute her, so let her death be at the hands of an Executioner Knight. Fitting, wouldn’t you say? I am sure you will be much more merciful with her than you were with my own men.”
Achilles’ eyes widened. “Fight her?” he repeated, aghast. “I have no intention of fighting her and I will kill the first man who makes a move against her.”
De Meynell was prompt in his reply. He lifted the bloodied dagger, that was still in his hand, and moved straight for Samuel as Susanna and Achilles and even Alexander begged the man to stop. They could see what was coming and Samuel put up his hands, backing away as he prepared to defend himself. But the message was clear.
Continue resisting and I will poke your brother full of holes.
He’d meant it.
“He will fight me!” Susanna finally screamed. “Please… leave Samuel alone. I will fight him, I swear it!”
De Meynell lowered his dagger, but Achilles was beside himself. He looked at Caius, at Alexander, with an expression of pain that they never seen before.
Caius noticed it first.
The commander of Richmond Castle had remained quiet through de Meynell’s raging, mostly because he wanted to get a sense of the situation as a whole. Was de Meynell mad? Was his control over the situation firm? The answer to both questions seemed to be in the affirmative, but stripped of his weapons, Caius could do nothing at the moment.
But he had an army waiting out of sight that could.
All they had to do was make it until morning when Kevin and Morgan would bring the tide of Richmond men to the rescue. The main thing would be to make sure he personally was not put in the vault because someone would have to get to the gatehouse to ensure his army made it into the fortress. De Meynell’s rage didn’t seem to be directed at him, which was good. It gave Caius room to maneuver. But he couldn’t let Achilles fight the woman he so clearly, and desperately, loved. It was pure madness.
Therefore, he had to do what he could.
He deflected attention.
“I have little stake in this,” he said as everyone looked in his direction. With his booming voice, it was difficult not to. “I came to Aysgarth to feast and that is what I shall do tonight. I have no desire to see a fight, which can just as easily wait until morning. Throw those two in the vault if you must, but I am going back to the hall and I am taking Coverdale with me so his wound can be tended.”
He started to move but swords were pointing in his way. “You will remain until I tell you to move,” de Meynell said. “This is not your command, d’Avignon. I am in charge.”
Caius smiled as if amused. “Do you really think to hold, me, de Meynell?” he asked as if the man was a fool. “Let me tell you what will happen if I do not return to Richmond soon – my men know I have stopped at Aysgarth. When I do not make it to Lancashire, they will retrace my steps and discover that the last place I was seen was, in fact, Aysgarth. I have almost two thousand men at my disposal plus thousands more from neighboring allies who will raze this place. When they are finished with Aysgarth, they will go to Whorlton and raze that, too. Do not toy with me, de Meynell, for you will lose.”
It was a threat and nothing he said was untrue. De Meynell knew it; he’d known it from the start. Everyone else knew it, too. Frustrated that Caius was essentially emasculating him in front of his men, de Meynell struggled to regain control that seemed to continually want to slip from his grasp.
“I could kill you,” he said. “It would be my right to execute a spy.”
Caius rolled his eyes. “I am not a spy,” he said. “I am a knight of the highest order, sworn to William Marshal, and a seasoned veteran of Richard’s holy quest to The Levant. The Britannia Viper does not slink around in shadows, waiting for crumbs of information that will change destinies. What I do, I do face to face. Now, what you do with the three knights you seem to have issue with is your problem. I am not part of that and I resent that you have included me. So, I will say again – whatever punishment you have planned for them can wait until tomorrow. Let us eat and drink and forget about the politics of England for a night. Frankly, I’m exhausted by it all.”
With that, he kept moving, taking Samuel by his good arm, and pulling him towards the keep. He was such a big man with such a commanding presence that everyone seemed to instinctively obey, including de Meynell’s men. Even though they had their swords drawn, and pointed at him, no one made a move to stop him. Caius and Samuel headed up to the keep, leaving de Meynell and his men standing there with Alexander, Achilles, and Susanna.
In fact, de Meynell was rattled. He was losing control of the situation and grossly unhappy because of it. D’Avignon was taking it all away from him and he was embarrassed. With a frown, he gestured to Achilles and Susanna.
“Lock them in the vault,” he commanded.
Bellerby nodded with satisfaction at the command, but he pointed to Alexander. “And him, my lord?”
De Meynell grunted. “Him, also,” he snapped. “But come the morning, we will let them battle it out to the death and be done with this. That bitch is no longer useful to me with her hair cut off and I have no desire to look at her. Get her out of my sight.”
As de Meynell turned for the keep, his knights and soldiers swarmed on Achilles, Susanna, and Alexander. The first man that went for Susanna received a blow to the face that smashed out all of his front teeth and from that point on, the fight was on.
Achilles wasn’t going to let them touch Susanna and neither was Alexander. He jumped into the fray, throwing punches and wrestling a sword away from a man he sent to the ground with a devastating blow. But once he had the sword in his hand, the soldiers panicked and all blades focused on him.
The fight was about to turn deadly.
The odds were t
oo much, even for Alexander. He was armed now and that made him a target, and men would cut him down and say it was justified because he held a weapon. Knowing that, Susanna broke away from Achilles and ran to put herself in front of Alexander.
“You’ll not kill him!” she shouted. Then, she turned her head to Alexander and spoke quickly. “If you value our lives, you’ll drop the sword. They’ll kill us, Sherry.”
Alexander knew that, in theory. There were at least four knights and more than twenty soldiers, plus more on the walls and at the gatehouse who were starting to migrate in their direction to see what the trouble was. But Alexander was a knight above all, so battling great odds was something he was born to do. He was a fighter. But being a seasoned warrior also meant that he knew when to drop the weapon so he could live to fight another day.
This was one of those times.
The sword fell to the dirt of the bailey and the soldiers began to swarm, grabbing Alexander and Susanna, completely enveloping Achilles because he was still throwing punches. It took more than a dozen to finally subdue him and only by sheer number did they manage to do it, dragging him down into the vault as Susanna, over the chaos, begged Achilles to stop fighting.
Down to the vault they returned.
It was a horrific ending to a horrific day.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What’s wrong?”
The question came from Morgan de Wolfe. Kevin was standing at the edge of the tree line to the south, facing Aysgarth. He’d been standing there since arriving earlier in the day and he’d even sent out men to scout around Aysgarth and the village, discreetly, simply to keep abreast of what was going on. The men had come back to tell him everything seemed quiet, but something in Kevin’s gut wouldn’t rest.
He was sensing trouble.
“I am not sure,” he finally replied, watching the sentries on the walls as they went about their rounds, torches in hand. “I feel as if something is amiss.”
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