by Alexa Aston
“Nay. In fact, I hope to find her a husband in the near future.”
Nan noticed he glanced David’s way when he said this. Her cousin was too busy eating a fruit tart to have noticed. She wondered if Tristan might be considering David as his future brother-in-law.
Once Drew and Sir Stephen brought the horses back from the nearby stream, everyone remounted and continued toward Shercastle. Hours later, they were granted permission to enter the gates of the castle.
“More than likely, Lord Wymun will ask us to stay the night. Let’s ride to the keep first,” Tristan told the others. “If the invitation is extended, we’ll need to get all the horses settled in their stables.”
Their party rode through both baileys. Nan saw a couple awaiting them, standing arm in arm. A young woman stood slightly apart from them. As they drew near, she knew beyond a doubt that this was Tristan’s sister. She was very petite and possessed the same tawny hair her brother had. As Nan dismounted, she noticed Gillian’s eyes weren’t the brown rimmed in gold of her brother’s but the light blue color of a summer sky instead.
The baron and baroness greeted them and, as Tristan predicted, asked them to remain overnight in order to start their journey to Thorpe Castle afresh in the morning. He agreed. Only then did Tristan turn to address his sister.
“How do you fare, Gillian?” he asked formally, making no move to embrace her.
“I am well, Tristan. Thank you for coming to retrieve me.”
Nan was stunned. She assumed that it had been months since the pair had seen one another yet neither seemed inclined to touch the other or show any outward sign of affection. If she had been separated from any of her siblings for that long, Nan would have clung to them, laughing and crying at the same time, happy to be in their presence again.
Instead, Lady Gillian turned abruptly without a further word and followed Lord Wymun and Lady Magdalen.
Drew edged next to her. “Do you find that a bit odd?” he whispered.
“I most certainly do.”
Tristan instructed his men to move all of the horses to the stables, both the ones they’d ridden and those he’d purchased from Lady Elysande.
“I’ll help you,” Drew offered.
It was only then that Nan glimpsed the look on her cousin’s face. David’s eyes followed Lady Gillian’s progress as she made her way up the stairs to the keep. Wordlessly, he began to follow.
Nan chuckled to herself. It seemed David might be smitten with Gillian Therolde.
Chapter 11
Tristan quickly figured out that David Devereux was interested in his sister. The knight had sat next to Gillian and shared a trencher at the evening meal with her, their heads close together as they spoke in quiet tones. Tristan watched the pair as they retreated to a corner of Shercastle’s great hall after they finished eating and continued their conversation until Tristan finally interrupted them, telling Gillian it was time to retire since they would rise early and leave at first light the next morning.
Since Gillian had no horse and had never learned to ride, David immediately volunteered the next day to be responsible for her, taking her up into his saddle. Twice when they stopped to rest their horses, the two strolled the nearby woods, side-by-side. No one said anything but it was obvious to all present that the couple was taken with one another.
Tristan now stood across from the young knight as they finished up their watch guarding the camp’s inhabitants and horses. Soon, Toby and Stephen would come to relieve them so they could get a few hours of sleep before they broke camp. Tristan noted how seriously David took his sentry duty. He had not uttered a word since it began. The knight’s eyes swept across the dark at intervals, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
This was a good man and soldier. David came from a respected family. He would make a fine husband for Gillian, while Lord Michael and Lady Elysande would be kind to her. Tristan believed when it came time for David Devereux to return to Sandbourne, he would speak to Tristan about wedding Gillian. For now, he would take Lord Michael’s attitude and say nothing to either of them.
A brushing sound captured his attention and he knew his men reported for duty. He told them all was well and left them to return to their camp. The fire’s embers burned lowed but he could make out the shapes of his remaining companions. Gillian slept on her side, her hands curled under her chin as if she were in prayer. Nan and Drew both slept on their backs, Drew’s sword next to his right hand and Nan’s bow and quiver resting on each side of her. David went and lay several feet from Gillian, unsheathing his sword and placing it within reach.
Tristan eased to the ground, his eyelids heavy and his body tired from long days in the saddle. His healing thigh had held up well and hadn’t troubled him during their travels. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Until something woke him. A hissing. He opened his eyes and looked around without sitting up. In the shadows, Tristan saw Nan and Drew slinking off. For a moment, jealousy flared within him. He knew the two were friendly and that this was no romantic tryst they sneaked off to. But where were they going in the dead of night?
He grasped the hilt of his sword and quickly touched David’s shoulder. The knight shot up, his sword in hand.
“There’s trouble,” he whispered. “Stay with Gillian.”
Determination filled the young man’s eyes. “I will keep her safe, my lord.”
Tristan nodded and then followed Nan and Drew. As he did, he heard faint sounds coming from the area where they had hobbled the horses.
Someone was there. Someone who didn’t belong.
Why hadn’t Stephen or Toby called out a warning?
In the quiet of the cool night, the whiz of an arrow broke the stillness, followed by a loud grunt. Then a cry of pain and astonishment. Tristan began running, knowing Nan and Drew did the same. The clang of two swords striking together sounded three times, then someone uttered a loud groan.
As Tristan reached the horses, he saw men scrambling onto mounts and taking off. Nan and Drew slice through the loose rope around their horses’ legs and jumped onto their backs to follow. He glanced around and saw two strangers lying on the ground. An arrow protruded from the chest of one. The other lay still in a pool of blood spilling from him. Tristan turned and froze.
Toby and Stephen lay sprawled on the ground, their eyes staring vacantly up at the night sky.
“No,” he moaned hoarsely. “No.”
The three had fostered together and been the closest of friends. He had known them over a score, from childhood to becoming men. Tristan trusted only a handful of people. These two were the ones he had turned to in his darkest of days. They had stood by him and supported him and come to live at Leventhorpe when he became its earl.
And now these treasured friends lay dead.
Rage surged through him as he freed Skybourne. Sheathing his sword, Tristan leapt onto the animal. He drove the beast hard, miraculously catching up to Nan and Drew and the men they chased. As he came close, he watched Nan pull an arrow from the quiver slung over her shoulder. She tossed her reins to Drew, who caught them and held them steady as Nan fixed the arrow and drew back her bowstring. The arrow sailed through the air, striking the first of three riders in the back of his neck. The man fell from his saddle.
Again, Nan released an arrow and struck another man in the same place. His hands dropped the reins and flew to his neck before he rolled lifelessly to the ground.
Their three horses galloped past both of the fallen men. Tristan pulled abreast of Nan and Drew as she yanked a third arrow from her quiver. How she could ride at breakneck speed and fire with such accuracy amazed Tristan, much less that Drew could keep her horse on course as he did. The two moved as one, needing no words between them. He realized their years of training together bonded them in a way he might never understand.
Nan’s arrow flew through the air again. This time, her aim was off. The arrow alighted in the fleeing man’s left shoulder. He glanced over hi
s shoulder at them but continued to race down the road without altering his pace.
She drew another arrow and quickly sent it on its way. Again, she missed bringing down her target. The arrow hit the man’s right shoulder. The second injury was enough to cause him to slow his horse and bring it around to face them. He released the reins and held his hands up to show he was no longer a threat to them, grimacing as he did so.
Drew flipped the reins back to Nan and the trio brought their horses to a halt. The squire leapt from his horse and stormed over to the man. He yanked him from the saddle and slammed his fist into the stranger’s nose.
As Tristan and Nan dismounted, he said to her, “Your first two shots amazed me, my lady. To ride as you did and shoot so precisely takes great skill. I’m almost disappointed that you didn’t kill all three.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him, my lord,” Nan said in exasperation. “We need to question him and find out why he killed Toby and Stephen. Why he and the others wished to steal your horses.” She gave him a hard look. “Dead men cannot give the answers we seek.”
His awe grew. Tristan realized her arrows had gone exactly where she directed them, while a cool head prevailed, knowing it was important to keep at least one of the thieves alive to interrogate him.
The man had crumpled to the ground. Drew latched on to his tunic and jerked the robber to his feet. Blood gushed from his mangled nose.
“Look at me,” Nan commanded, her voice strong and firm.
Slowly, the man’s head rose. He gave her a withering look as he glanced at the bow in her hand.
“You’re the one firing the arrows at me? God’s Bones! Brought down by a woman.” He spat on the ground in disgust.
“Aye. I killed your friends. Just as you killed two valiant knights.”
The man shrugged, causing him to wince in pain. “What of it?”
“Answer my questions and I may allow you to live.”
He smirked at her.
Nan kicked him in the balls.
The man howled and fell to the ground. She stepped toward him and placed her boot atop one of the arrows still protruding from him.
“Were you and your men trying to steal our horses?”
He glared at her. Nan stomped on the arrow, driving it deeper into him until it almost disappeared.
“Aye!” he roared.
“Did you take them for yourself or did someone else instruct you to steal them?”
The thief took a moment and then said, “We was going to sell them. Me and the others sell what we can get our hands on but sometimes we know places to go. Where we sold to before.”
“Name who you would have taken them to first,” she demanded.
When he didn’t answer immediately, Nan wrapped her hands around the arrow jutting from his left shoulder.
Seeing that she would rip it from him, the man cried out, “The baron! He’ll always buy good horseflesh, especially at a bargain price.”
“What baron?” Tristan asked, a chill invading his soul.
“Wycliffe,” the thief said, breathing hard. “The Baron . . . of Wycliffe.”
Petyr Medford, Baron of Wycliffe, was the widower two estates from Leventhorpe that he had considered as a husband for Gillian. The nobleman wielded a strong influence in Essex, which is why Tristan thought it might be a suitable match, despite the disparity in their ages. Disappointment filled him, knowing the nobleman showed one face to the world and was a much different man than the one he portrayed. It only reinforced to Tristan how no one could be trusted. Thank the Living Christ he had not betrothed Gillian to the baron.
Nan turned to him. “Do you know this man, Tristan?”
He nodded. “He is an acquaintance of mine.” Looking back at the robber, he asked, “How many times have you sold stolen goods to Wycliffe?”
“What’s it to you?” the highwayman snarled. “You still have all of your horses. We didn’t get a single one. And neither will the baron.”
Something in Tristan snapped. Moving swiftly, he unsheathed his sword and ran it through the man, pinning him to the ground. Blood bubbled up from his mouth, spilling down his chest. He trembled violently then stilled. Tristan jerked the sword from him.
“That’s for Toby. For Stephen. My friends.”
Tristan wiped his sword clean and returned it to his side. Wordlessly, he walked away and mounted Skybourne. He returned to their camp, while Nan and Drew gathered the three highwaymen’s horses.
David and Gillian met him. Tristan saw the anguish in her face and knew she had seen the bodies of the two dead knights, men she had known since she was a child.
“I am sorry, Tristan,” Gillian said quietly.
He nodded in acknowledgement. Though he wanted to take his sister in his arms and comfort her, she turned away. It was David Devereux who followed her and put an arm about her as she sobbed.
Tristan waited until Nan and Drew returned and told them, “We can reach Thorpe Castle by the end of the day. I cannot bury them here. I must take them home.” He swore to himself that he would visit their graves every day and never forget the friendship these two men had offered him and the loyalty they had given him.
“I’ll stay with Gillian,” Nan said, looking to Drew. “Help Lord Tristan prepare the bodies for travel.”
She went to his grieving sister and sent David Devereux over. The three men secured the bodies to their horses. Drew draped a blanket over each man.
They started out for Leventhorpe immediately afterward. No one mentioned eating. Tristan doubted he could have swallowed a single breadcrumb. The group rode in silence the entire day until they arrived at Thorpe Castle.
It was the second darkest day of Tristan’s life.
Chapter 12
Nan brought Nightfoot to a halt as their group approached the stables. Though not nearly as large as that at Sandbourne, the structure appeared to be fairly new. Everyone dismounted and while Gillian stayed back, the rest of them brought all of the horses into the building, from their own to the ones which had belonged to the dead highwaymen, as well as the group Tristan had purchased from Sandbourne. It surprised her how many open stalls stood available and she wondered if a bulk of the Leventhorpe horses were held in a pasture nearby during good weather.
David and Drew removed the bodies of the two dead knights. Tristan had Stephen and Toby placed in an empty stall and covered with blankets. She wondered why they had not taken the bodies directly to the chapel but didn’t question Tristan. His eyes, usually so warm and vital, had taken on a wintry look ever since the death of his friends.
Together, they walked to the keep. She brought her satchel, not wanting to leave it in the stables, but left her other weaponry in a corner of Nightfoot’s stall. Nan saw no activity present in the bailey and decided everyone must be at the evening meal. Entering, they came to stand at the doors to the great hall.
Suddenly, a broad-shouldered man with a head of white hair appeared in the doorway. He wore a black eyepatch over his left eye and she wondered how he had lost it. One lone, pale blue eye sparked with joy as he recognized Tristan and Gillian. Then he took a few more steps toward their party. It struck her that something was off about his gait. Nan noticed one leg of his pants seemed almost empty compared to the other one, its muscles straining against the material. She realized besides the eye, the man also was missing a leg.
“Lord Tristan, Lady Gillian, ’tis very good to see the two of you again,” he said.
“Hello, Sir Dawkin,” Gillian said politely. “I am happy to see you, as well.”
Tristan nodded curtly in acknowledgement of the older man. Then he indicated his companions. “This is Sir Dawkin. He is my captain of the guard and has been at Thorpe Castle most of his life. You will not find a more loyal man on Leventhorpe lands.”
The nobleman turned back to his captain. Without preface, he said, “Toby and Stephen were killed early this morning while on sentry duty. We have brought them home for burial.”
; Tears welled in the knight’s good eye. “I am most sorry to hear this, my lord. I will send to North Colnbourne for a priest to say their burial mass.”
Send for a priest? Nan couldn’t imagine why a priest needed to be summoned when there should be one in residence at Thorpe Castle. She bit her tongue to keep from asking why.
“Thank you,” Tristan said. “If you will assign chambers to my guests, I would appreciate it.” Without introducing them, he turned away and mounted the stone stairs leading to the upper floor, a heavy air of sadness enfolding him.
Once again, questions filled Nan. Why would a knight in charge of the castle’s soldiers be involved in deciding where guests would stay? With Tristan being unmarried, who was in charge of the domestic affairs of the keep? Did he even employ a steward?
David shot a questioning glance in her direction and then said, “I am Sir David Devereux of Sandbourne. This is Drewett Stollars, a squire fostering with Lord Geoffrey de Montfort of Kinwick. We would be happy to stay in the barracks with your men, Sir Dawkin.” He indicated Nan. “And this is my cousin, Lady Nan de Montfort.”
The knight wiped his eye with his sleeve. “Ah, I am pleased to meet you all. We have plenty of room in the barracks, Sir David, and would be happy for you both to join us there.” He turned to Gillian. “We knew you would arrive soon, my lady, since your trunk came this morning. Your bedchamber has been made ready for you. Should we have Lady Nan stay in the solar?”
“With Lord Tristan?” Nan blurted out, then felt her cheeks flame.
“Nay,” Gillian reassured her. “Tristan never sleeps there. He has kept to the bedchamber he shared with my brothers growing up.”
“Even though he is the Earl of Leventhorpe?” she asked, finding it peculiar that the solar stood empty.
“Aye,” Gillian confirmed. “He . . . prefers it. I think he feels closer to our brothers by doing so.”
Since Tristan had never mentioned any siblings beyond Gillian, Nan had no idea how many Therolde brothers there were or where they had gone. They didn’t seem to be present at Thorpe Castle.
