The Centurion

by Kathryn Le Veque

“I am.”

  The child stared at him as if debating whether or not to believe him. “But why have you come?”

  “So that you can be safe and live with me, forever.”

  That was evidently a foreign concept to the boy because he looked at Torston with a great deal of confusion. “You… you would want me to live with you?”

  “Of course. You are my son.” Torston took a deep breath, looking into the face of a young boy who looked a good deal like Torston’s father. “I am sorry I have not come for you before now. I have no excuse, Ryston, and even if I tried to explain, you would not understand. But I have come for you and we will never be apart again. I promise.”

  It was difficult for him to get the words out, but Ryston still seemed very confused. “But… but Lady Antonia said you did not want me,” he said. “She said you tossed me aside because I was broken and you were ashamed.”

  “Broken?”

  “My legs.”

  “What about them?”

  “They don’t work.”

  Torston sighed sharply. “I did not toss you aside because you were broken, nor am I ashamed, at least of you,” he said. “But I am very ashamed of myself. I am sorry, Ryston. I thought I was… oh, it doesn’t matter what I thought. But I swear that I will spend the rest of my life making amends to you. I am so very sorry for how these people have treated you.”

  That seemed to clear up some of Ryston’s confusion. “Then you have really come for me?”

  “I really have,” Torston said, his eyes glimmering warmly at the boy. “I have much to atone for. I hope you will let me. Will you come?

  Ryston didn’t know what to say or do, so he simply nodded. “I will,” he said. “Did you really come all the way here for me?”

  The child was struggling with disbelief. Torston could see it and it softened his heart a great deal. “I really came all the way here for you.”

  “Where will we go now?”

  “Home.”

  Ryston was still overwhelmed, but Torston had been kind and gentle, so he wasn’t frightened anymore. Certainly not as frightened as he had been of Adlai, laying dead on the floor.

  “I will go,” the child said. “But may I have my petey?”

  “Your petey?”

  The little boy pointed under the bed. “It is under there, my petey.”

  Torston set the child onto the bed before pulling it away from the wall. All he saw was an old piece of cloth and he pulled it out, handing it over to the little boy, who cuddled it. Torston couldn’t help but smile.

  “That is your petey?” he asked. “It must be special.”

  Ryston nodded. “It was from my mother.”

  Torston took a second look at the cloth. It was actually a little blanket, tattered, that had the initial “R” embroidered into one end of it. Torston began to feel horrible for not even knowing that Ryston’s mother had made it for the child. Once she became pregnant, he avoided her other than to make demands about the child’s name and how he was to be raised. But when childbirth killed her, he was forced to face his mistake.

  But Ryston was a mistake no more.

  “It is very nice,” he said. “But why do you call it your petey?”

  “Because I wanted a puppy but Lady Antonia said all I would ever have is the blanket,” he said. “So I named it Petey.”

  That made Torston grin. It was rather sweet. “You shall have a puppy if you want one,” he said. “I will make sure of it.”

  The little boy’s face lit up. “All my own?”

  “All your own.”

  “Torston!”

  The voice came from the window and Torston whirled around, hand on the hilt of his sword, to see Lance halfway in the window. The man had scaled the wall and climbed in. With a sigh of relief, Torston’s hand came away from his sword.

  “All is well,” he said. “Lance, I would like to introduce you to my son, Master Ryston de Royans. Ryston, this is Sir Lance Brockenhurst of Makendon Castle. He is a great knight, too.”

  Lance nodded at the little boy, who looked a great deal like Torston, before looking to the body on the ground. He pointed.

  “Who is that?” he asked.

  Reaching down, Torston picked the child up, getting the first solid feel of his young son in his arms. He never realized how good it would feel to hold the boy.

  “A former butcher who serves Lady Antonia,” he said, heading for the door. “He is the one who has been holding my son hostage and he was properly dealt with. We will meet you in the yard.”

  Lance came in through the window even as Torston left with the child. He rolled the body onto its back, seeing that he was quite dead. He also had a heavy purse on his belt. Lance thought that, perhaps, the little boy might be deserving of anything of value his captor had since the brute had held the child captive.

  God knows what else he did to him.

  When Torston and the child met Lance down in the stable yard a minute or so later, Torston was surprised to see Lance handing a fat coin purse over to the little boy. When he looked at Lance curiously, the man gave him a knowing wink.

  “Compensation for his troubles,” was all he would say.

  Torston didn’t ask any more questions.

  Compensation for what Ryston had been put through, indeed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  They split off about two miles from The Lyceum.

  Torston, unwilling to take his son to The Lyceum where Lady Antonia was, instead chose to take the child to Makendon and put him into the care of Lady Brockenhurst and her daughter. Ryston would be safe there and probably spoiled, and Lance heartily agreed with the decision. But before they parted, Torston gave Lance a message to give to Jess.

  It was a rather long and important one.

  After that, Torston headed northeast on a road that would take him right to Makendon and Lance continued the distance back to The Lyceum, arriving there an hour or so after dark.

  Of course, he could see the castle in the distance before he ever got close to it. All of those torches created a bright spot against the darkened landscape. But once he reached The Lyceum, he was announced by the sentries and Jess was there to meet him in the bailey as soon as he entered.

  “Brockenhurst!” Jess called to the man as he brought his horse to a halt. “What happened to Elmington? Did you decide not to go, after all?”

  Lance threw his leg over the saddle and slid down to the ground, removing his saddlebags before the grooms came to take the horse.

  “I did not go,” he said, pulling his bags free and facing Jess. “I saw Torston in Byrness. He told me everything that has happened.”

  Jess sobered. “He did, did he?” he said with regret. “We put Lord Winslow in the vault. It is cooler there and he will keep better until you decide what you wish to do with him.”

  Lance nodded. “God, what a shock,” he muttered. Then, he looked around the torch-lit bailey. “Where is Dyl?”

  Jess shook his head. “He has been keeping to his chamber,” he said. “I am sure he will be glad to see you. This whole event has him understandably devastated.”

  “Does he know about his sister’s abduction?”

  “Nay,” Jess said. “No one has told him.”

  Lance nodded. “That is probably for the best, at least for now,” he said. “I will make the arrangements for Lord Winslow’s burial. The family is buried at St. John’s in Otterburn, so I will send word to the priests to prepare a place for him. We should move him there for burial before the weather worsens and the moors become impassable.”

  Jess glanced up at the sky. They’d had the threat of rain all night, and a bit of it, but nothing heavy. “I will help you however I can,” he said. “Meanwhile… did Torston tell you about Lord Harringham?”

  Lance nodded. “He did, indeed,” he said. “He told me to stay with the man and try to discourage him from attacking Luckenburn.”

  Jess sighed heavily. “He is still planning the great offensive,” he s
aid, nodding his head in the direction of the keep. “He is in his solar.”

  Lance glanced to the keep for a moment, as if seeing the elderly madman within the walls, before turning his attention back to Jess. “Where is Morley? Better still, where is Lady Antonia?”

  Jess lifted his shoulders. “I’ve not seen her since last night,” he said. “Why?”

  “Because Torston wants us to keep an eye on them both.”

  “Why?”

  Before splitting at the crossroads earlier in the day, Torston had told Lance about Jess and that he believed Jess was the leak of information. The gossip-loving knight would not be privy to why Torston wanted to watch Lady Antonia, only that he wanted to. Lance leaned into Jess and lowered his voice.

  “Apparently, Lady Antonia was told that Torston wanted to break his betrothal with Lady Lilia,” he said. “Torston wonders how she found out, Jess?”

  Jess’ eyes widened. “I did not tell the woman,” he said. “I haven’t said two words to her the entire time she has been here.”

  Lance cocked an eyebrow. “But you did tell someone something that Torston had told to you in confidence,” he said. “Who did you tell?”

  Jess was well aware of his weakness. He was fine at keeping military secrets, but when it came to general gossip… he knew he was bad at it. He was disgusted with himself, but not enough to stop.

  “No one, really,” he insisted. “I mentioned it to Morley, but that was all, and I only did it in the context of explaining the situation to the man. He must have told her.”

  Lance instantly saw where Antonia had gotten her information from – her co-conspirator, Morley. “He did, indeed,” Lance said. “But Torston gave me a message for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He wants you to know that if any further sensitive information finds its way to the gossips, he will personally cut your tongue out before relieving you of your duties here at The Lyceum,” Lance said, watching Jess’s features tighten. “He will dismiss you, Jess, and he is quite serious about it. And under no circumstances are you to trust Morley with anything. Do you understand?”

  Jess’ jaw ticked. “I do.”

  “Good,” Lance said. “We need a trustworthy knight here at The Lyceum and, right now, you are not trustworthy and there are many things going on that you could help with. But Torston doesn’t trust you enough to tell you what they are. Therefore, if I were you, I would cease telling anyone anything that does not directly affect them. In fact, unless Torston gives you permission to speak on a subject, I would just keep everything he tells you to yourself. It is called discretion, Jess. That is a talent you need to hone.”

  Jess simply nodded, embarrassed he’d been rebuked. Lance put a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture, and was about to say something more to him when they heard what sounded like a howl coming from the keep.

  It was more like a scream.

  The knights took off at a dead run.

  “My lord, I must speak to you.”

  Antonia stood in the doorway of Lionel’s solar, seeing the old man across the chamber, huddled over a table and clearly focused on whatever was on the tabletop. Lionel looked up, saw her, and promptly looked back at his table.

  Antonia came into the room.

  She didn’t do well at being ignored and, in this case, she was quite upset. She approached the table and Lionel, noticing the two big servants in the chamber lingering back in the shadows, but she didn’t give them a second thought.

  Her focus was on Lionel.

  “My lord, Lady Lilia has disappeared,” she said. “She did not return to her chamber last night and my ladies and I have searched all morning but we have yet to find her. I cannot find Sir Torston anywhere and I must have your assistance in locating her. I am sure she is being held against her will, somewhere.”

  Lionel continued scribbling on the map before him, talking to himself as he measured distances and locations. Antonia watched him, waiting for an answer, but when there was none, she tried again, more forcefully.

  “My lord, did you hear me?” she said, loudly. “Lady Lilia has been abducted. We must search for her immediately. And where is Sir Torston? He must know of this emergency.”

  Lionel continued to ignore her, focused on his map. Frustrated, Antonia came to stand right next to him and bent over, practically shouting in his ear.

  “My lord, please!” she said. “Lady Lilia is gone! Please help me!”

  She was so loud that Lionel leaned away from her, sticking a finger in his ear. “Go away from me, woman,” he said. “I have no time for you.”

  Antonia was furious and unsteady. She had spent most of the night searching for Lilia. Her ladies told Antonia that Lilia had followed Antonia out of the chamber earlier that day when she left to speak with Sir Torston but she hadn’t been seen since.

  At first, Antonia had merely been angry that Lilia had gone out by herself, but as the hours passed and Lilia didn’t return, that anger turned to fury and fury to fear. Lilia was the one thing Antonia desperately needed; no Lilia, no marriage.

  Antonia had spent the past several years keeping Lilia safe and healthy, so she wasn’t going to lose the woman so close to their goal. Morley helped in the search, but neither of them were able to find Torston and all they could get from Jess was that the man had departed for parts unknown, alone.

  Lilia hadn’t been with him.

  Now, Antonia was starting to panic. The situation was starting to crumble. Torston had gone off, she was sure, to rescue Lady Alyx, which meant that Antonia had written a missive to Adlai, the man watching over Torston’s son, that morning. She had yet to send it because she wanted to see if Torston would return some time that day, without Lady Alyx. If that was the case, she wouldn’t send it, but if it wasn’t…

  Little Ryston de Royans would be missing a finger.

  It was midday now. No Torston, no Lilia, and Lionel was all but ignoring her pleas for help. Unreasonable hatred and rage were building in Antonia toward the apathetic response to her request but before she could demand again, Morley entered the solar.

  “Antonia!” he hissed, eyeing the servants in the shadows. “What are you doing here?”

  He whispered it to her, loudly, so the servants wouldn’t overhear, but Antonia wouldn’t look at him. Her focus was on Lionel.

  “Lilia is still missing,” she growled. “I have come to Lord Harringham for help, but he will not acknowledge me. Do something!”

  Morley looked at Lionel as the man was busy plotting the invasion of Scotland. He’d been all over The Lyceum since last night and he’d checked every nook and crevice he could think of, but Lilia was nowhere to be found. He’d just come into the keep to tell Antonia that no one at the gatehouse had seen the missing woman when he heard Antonia in Lionel’s solar.

  He didn’t want the woman here.

  “Do not bother Great Caesar on such matters,” he said, indicating the door. “Please return to your chambers.”

  Antonia wouldn’t budge. “Since he will not respond to me, you ask him,” she said. “Do it, Morley.”

  There was a threat there. Morley could refuse all he liked, but Antonia would crush him in the end. She always did. Therefore, Morley cast her a look of exasperation before reluctantly turning his focus to Lionel.

  “Great Caesar?” he said politely. “We are missing Lady Lilia. She seems to have wandered away. We need permission to send men on a search for her, as we cannot locate Sir Torston.”

  Hearing Morley’s familiar voice, Lionel looked up at him. “There is no time,” he said. “We launch our attack this evening, by the full moon. The gods will grant us the light to fight by and we shall be victorious. Send me Torston; I must have my Centurion.”

  Morley leaned over the table. “But the Centurion is not here, Great Caesar,” he said. “That is what I have been trying to tell you. He is not here and Lady Lilia, his betrothed, has gone missing.”

  But Lionel waved him off, picking up
a long quill as he began writing on the map again. “Be gone,” he said. “I have no time for missing women. When my Centurion returns, send him to me at once. Meanwhile, send me Jess.”

  “Great Caesar, a woman is missing. She may be in great peril!”

  Lionel continued to write on his map which, at closer inspection, was gibberish. There were hash marks and odd symbols, nothing that made any sense. Morley leaned in to try again, but Antonia was at the end of her patience.

  Something in her snapped.

  Reaching out, she snatched the quill from Lionel’s hand and shouted in his face. “Do you not understand?” she screeched. “Lady Lilia is missing! One of your ill-bred soldiers must have abducted her! If she is compromised, I will make sure The Lyceum is destroyed, do you hear? I will make sure you are punished!”

  The fact that she had yanked the quill from Lionel’s hand enraged him, but the fact that she was screaming in his face caused him to panic. In his diminished capacity, fear came easily, and as she screamed her threat, Lionel grabbed at the dagger he always kept at his waist. It was a fabulously jeweled weapon, meant for show, but it was also quite sharp.

  Feeling threatened and terrified, Lionel nearly fell out of the chair as he brought his weapon to bear. On his feet, he rushed Antonia, who was still shouting, and stabbed her in the chest, twice. When Morley tried to stop him, he turned on Morley and plunged the weapon through the man’s neck.

  Antonia fell against Lionel’s desk, bleeding all over it, as Morley stumbled back, blood spurting from a severed artery. All the while, the gorgeous bejeweled weapon was slashing and plunging as a panicked Lionel stabbed everything that moved.

  The damage was done.

  Antonia slithered to the floor of the solar, bleeding to death, and Morley fell atop her, blood gushing from his neck wound as Lionel stood over the pair with the bloodied weapon still in hand.

  And that was how Lance and Jess found them.

  Lance was the first one into the solar, his eyes widening when he saw the carnage.

  “God’s Bones,” he gasped, rushing toward Lionel. “Great Caesar, are you injured? Have you been hurt?”