Her mind had gone blank.
Men began shouting for a song of laughter, which she took to mean a song with humor in it, so she reverted back to her twelve-year-old self who had written a song about a girl who had stolen the eye of the only boy in the entire village that Juliandra thought was handsome. It was rather funny, but it was also cruel. Still, it was the only thing she could think of at the moment.
Quickly, she began to strum the lute in a fast-paced, almost silly manner.
“She was lewd and shrewd,
That pasty wench,
Who walked with bowed-out knees.
Myrtle had a girdle
No man would hurdle
Because she smelled like a fish!”
When she abruptly finished, the entire hall burst out in cheers and roars, greatly approving of a song that could be considered quite bawdy. Juliandra started laughing because they were, pleased that her song about Myrtle ferch Bierce was so well received. It was, in some small way, a victory for the boy Myrtle had stolen away from her those years ago.
Now, it was eight years later.
But her silly song brought calls for more humorous songs and Juliandra had heard many over the years, some just plain foolish. But that seemed to be what her audience wanted, so she sang a song about a lost dog with a missing leg, a child who refused to eat his mush, and an old woman trying to pretend she was a young maiden in order to catch a husband.
Every foolish song she could think of was played and her audience loved every minute of it, and she grew bolder with each successive tune. She began to walk a circle around the fire pit, singing her songs, some of which she repeated twice, and all the while men drank and cheered and threw coins at her. At the end of each song, she would rush around the fire pit, collecting the coins, and thanking the men for their generosity. She was enjoying herself quite a bit, and making a good deal of money, until the inevitable happened.
A man made a grab for her.
That was when the frivolity stopped and she screamed, beating at the man to release her and his colleagues jumped in to separate them. As she staggered to her feet, someone threw a punch at the man who had grabbed her. Suddenly, the table erupted in a brawl.
That was Juliandra’s time to exit.
As the entire hall deteriorated, she managed to dodge a few other grabbing hands and make it back to Megsy without any damage being done. The old servant grabbed her fearfully.
“We must get out of here,” Megsy said. “Hurry! Out the way we came!”
“Nay!” Juliandra said. “I came here to speak with Lord de Lara and I am not leaving until I do.”
“But…!”
“This will have been a wasted effort if we go now!”
Megsy wasn’t sure about any of it. She had a good grip on Juliandra, fearful that the woman would run off and leave her behind. But she didn’t hold tightly enough because as the chaos in the hall was going on and knights were shouting at the men to stand down, Juliandra spied a servant and rushed over to the wench, asking her who Kevin de Lara was. The wench pointed at a table next to the fire pit. She indicated the only man that was still sitting at the table.
Evidently, he had been close by all along.
Juliandra made her move.
While everyone at the table was up, dispersing the fights that had broken out, Juliandra came up behind Kevin as he sat there, watching his knights as they knocked heads together. The soldiers were drunk and unruly, which was nothing abnormal at a feast. Kevin didn’t seem particularly concerned with it, but he was watching the activity. With the lute still in one hand and her coins in the other, she marched up to Kevin’s table.
“My name is Juliandra ferch Gethin,” she said. “You put my father in your vault for failing to pay a toll. You may have all of the coinage I earned tonight if you will release him to me.”
She was standing right next to him as she spoke and Kevin, perhaps a little too close, startled when she began to speak. Suddenly, he was out of the chair and on his feet, looking at her with an expression that suggested suspicion and disapproval until he realized who it was.
His features loosened.
“You are the singer,” he said.
Juliandra nodded, nervous now that she had gotten a good look at him. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was powerfully built, with big hands and big muscles. His upper arms were as big around as her waist and, suddenly, she wasn’t quite so confident in her demands of Kevin de Lara.
He was enormous and frightening.
“Aye, my lord,” she said. “And… and you are Lord de Lara.”
He simply nodded as his suspicious expression returned. “What did you just say? Something about a toll?”
Juliandra opened her mouth to reply, but a soldier suddenly landed on the table, bouncing across it. Had Kevin not reached out and grabbed Juliandra, the soldier would have crashed right into her. As she yelped fearfully, another soldier crashed onto the table, too close for comfort, and Kevin started to pull her away.
“This is no place for you,” he said. “Get out before someone takes your head off.”
But Juliandra dug her heels in. “I will not,” she said. “I mean no disrespect, my lord, but I have come here tonight for a reason.”
“Your reason was to entertain my men.”
Juliandra shook her head. “Not at first,” she said. “I came because I wanted to speak with you, but your men told me to come back on Tuesday when you hear supplicants.”
“That is true.”
“But I am not a supplicant. I simply want my father returned to me.”
He eyed her for a moment as he realized what she was saying and his disapproval returned. He didn’t like sneaky women.
“If they told you to go away, how did you get into the hall?”
“I told them I had come to sing for my meal and they let me in.”
He grunted unhappily as he realized the entirety of the situation. “So you smiled prettily, mayhap even flashed a soft, white shoulder at them, and they let you in,” he said. “Is that it?”
She shook her head. “Nay, my lord, I swear that I did not flash… anything,” she said. “That is something I would not do. I just want my father and took the opportunity to gain admittance to the castle to speak with you.”
Kevin started to say something but the rolling pair of fighters on the table crashed onto the ground and rolled right into Kevin’s feet. As he teetered off balance and kicked them away, Juliandra lifted her borrowed lute and smashed it over the head of one of the fighters.
He fell like a stone.
“Now,” she said breathlessly as she turned to Kevin. “Will you please release my father from your vault? He has done nothing except fail to pay your toll. I will pay you right now if you will only release him.”
He was looking at her in surprise, but the blue eyes were glittering. There was some humor there at a woman who had the wherewithal to bash a man in the skull like she had and then act as if it were all quite ordinary, as if she did it every day. She may have been tiny, but she was fierce.
He took a closer look at her.
“If I do not, are you going to smash a lute over my head?” he said. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Juliandra ferch Gethin.”
“You speak English perfectly.”
“My mother was English.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “That explains it,” he said. Someone else crashed over the table near them and he reached out, grasping her by the elbow to pull her away. “This room is deteriorating and I have no desire to get caught up in it, so for your own safety, come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“You came here to discuss your father. I suppose I should give you the courtesy since you protected me from those fighting soldiers.”
He turned and walked away. Greatly surprised that he should be concerned for her, with a touch of humor on top of it, she held out her hand to Megsy, quickly motioning the woman with her. She scooted after Kevin as
Megsy limped after them both as fast as she could move.
They departed the hall and ventured into the cold, crisp night, with a clear sky above and a blanket of stars strewn across the heavens. Kevin had big legs, as powerfully built as the rest of him, but they moved very quickly for not being particularly long, and Juliandra had to run to keep pace with him.
There was no chance for Megsy to keep up, but Juliandra saw the old servant following at a distance. She knew that Megsy wouldn’t go far even if she lost sight of her. On they went into the keep, that enormous structure with the turrets at the top.
Kevin took the wooden stairs to the entry at the first level and Juliandra followed. Before she entered, her last look at Megsy showed the woman barely halfway across the bailey. More concerned for the release of her father at that point, she entered the cold, dark keep, catching sight of Kevin as he disappeared into a doorway near the entry.
Juliandra followed.
She walked into a chamber that smelled heavily of smoke and tanned hides. Looking around, she could see that there was an array of hide-bound furniture in the richly furnished chamber. There was an iron bank of tapers dripping fat onto the floor, but it gave off a good amount of light. As she stood by the door and looked around timidly, Kevin went over to a large table that was neatly stacked with vellum.
“Close the door,” he told her.
Juliandra shut the door, although she wasn’t entirely comfortable doing so. It wasn’t proper for her to be alone in a room with a strange man, but Megsy was probably already within earshot, so she took some comfort in that. As if a crippled maid could save her from the powerfully built knight over by the table. It was a false sense of security, but she held on to it.
The more she looked at him, the more imposing he became.
He was looking over some sheets of vellum on his table, finally lighting a pair of tapers on the table so he had more light with which to see. He was on the second sheet when he came to a halt.
“What’s your father’s name?” he asked.
“Gethin ap Garreg, my lord.”
Kevin continued reading what was in front of him for a moment before finally speaking. “Your father refused to pay the toll at the toll booth on the Guilsford Road,” he said, eyes on the vellum. “He was turned away and then he tried to run across a field to get around the toll booth.”
Juliandra sighed heavily. “I know,” she said regretfully. “His manservant told me. He said that Da refused to pay for a road he had been traveling on his entire life, so he tried to go around and was captured for it.”
Kevin glanced up from the vellum. “You do realize that I do not keep all of the tolls.”
She cocked her head curiously. “I do not understand.”
“I give half of them to the local churches to feed the poor,” he said. “Half of those tolls support those who cannot support themselves. I do not keep all of the money.”
By her expression, it was clear that she hadn’t known. “That is generous of you,” she said. “There are many poor along the Marches, for I see it daily. I give alms to the poor myself nearly every Sunday. I did not know that was what the tolls were for.”
He was still looking at the vellum. “Your father knew,” he said. “My men reported that they told him and he still refused to pay.”
Juliandra was becoming increasingly embarrassed for her father’s behavior. “He does not attend mass,” she said. “Ever since my mother died, he will not go. He says there is no God. It probably would have been better had you not told him what the tolls are for.”
Kevin finally set the vellum aside and looked at her. She was truly a beautiful little thing, with long, curling hair the color of a bay horse and eyes that were the brightest shade of green he had ever seen. A delicate, ethereal beauty, to be sure, and far too fine to live in the overgrown villages of Wales.
He’d never seen finer.
Being that he was a chivalrous knight, the first thing that came to his mind was the fact that she didn’t seem to have any male protection with her. He’d seen the limping servant, but no soldiers. No man for protection. A lass this lovely deserved a man by her side, for safety at the very least. He didn’t like to see women alone.
But as he admired her beauty, something else occurred to him.
Being Welsh, she knew the area. She knew the important nobles and the part they played in local politics. Perhaps she even knew the two warlords who had come to Wybren the first day he had occupied the castle to tell him he wasn’t welcome. But based on the report from his men, he had to deliver some bad news to the lady and he was certain she wasn’t going to take it well. It was clear that she was concerned for her father. Her presence here was proof of that alone.
He could have made it easy for himself. He could have lied to her about her father so she wouldn’t think he was responsible for the man’s death. He wasn’t, in truth – according to the report from his men, Gethin ap Garreg had been responsible for his own death. But he was certain his daughter wouldn’t see it that way.
Still… lying to her about it went against everything he stood for.
Kevin wasn’t the wily type. He wasn’t slick or conniving like some of his fellow Executioner Knights, nor was he subversive unless it was in the line of duty. He was the honest, upstanding, stalwart member of the group. Their conscience. But something told him that the woman standing in front of him was valuable. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did. Perhaps she could help him if he could make a friend out of her. But given what he had to tell her, he wasn’t sure how he could do that.
He took a deep breath.
“The toll booths, the court on Tuesdays, they are all part of bringing order to this region,” he said. “I believe that starving children should be fed and that money should come from the community. I believe that the unjust should be punished and that men who are wronged should have their moment to prove their innocence. Those are my beliefs, my lady. That is what I explained to old Lord Breidden when he asked me to assume command of his property. He wanted the Welsh to be treated fairly and I agreed. He did not make this decision lightly, nor did I. Do you understand me so far?”
Juliandra was listening intently. “I do,” she said. “I am sorry that my father refused to pay your toll. Now that I know what you are doing with the money, I am in support. I shall tell him so.”
Kevin sighed faintly. “I appreciate that,” he said. “I have only been here a few short months and, in that time, the only Welsh lords who came to visit me were men named Aeron ap Gruffudd and Glynn ap Hywel. They were not welcoming in the least.”
Juliandra’s expression tightened with recognition. She knew those men. “They would not be,” she said. “Their families are very old. Aeron is descended from Dafydd ap Owain, one of the last princes of Wales. He hates anything English, so do not take his hatred personally.”
“You know him well?”
For the first time, she averted her gaze, looking uncomfortable. “He has offered to marry me, several times,” she said. “My father does not like him because he is too warring and he has told Aeron so. But still, he keeps offering. Aeron has told every man in this land that I am meant for him.”
Kevin’s gaze lingered on her. “I take it that you do not feel that way.”
She shook her head, her dark hair glistening in the candlelight. “Nay,” she said flatly. “He is unpleasant at best. My father is right – he only thinks of aggression and politics. That is not what I want in a husband.”
“I see,” he said, realizing that he was pleased she wasn’t married. He didn’t know why he should be, but he was. “Where does he live?”
Juliandra lifted her eyes, looking at him. “West,” she said. “There is a lake and a small village about ten miles to the west, and his stronghold is there. It is called Llanwyffyn.”
“Does he have a big army?”
She shrugged. “Big enough,” she said. “I do not know how many, but big enough.”
Kevin
didn’t press her. She was already figuring out that he was trying to probe her, but he could tell how valuable she was in her knowledge of the area. In the few months he’d been here, he’d not found one person, lord or otherwise, who had been willing to talk to him and tell him about the land.
Perhaps he’d been looking in the wrong place.
If he could only keep her here.
He was going to have to resort to something… subversive.
As an honorable knight, lying did not come easily to him, but to a lord who had inherited a Welsh stronghold and a desire to preserve the lives and safety of his men, he realized he was going to have to. He couldn’t tell the lady about her father because surely she would never speak to him again, and this moment was too valuable to waste.
For the safety of everyone, and for the knowledge he so desperately needed, he was going to have to make her believe her father was still alive somehow. Perhaps if she knew that, and realized her cooperation was the key to her father’s release, he was going to have to make that decision.
But he felt so dirty for it.
All of his fellow Executioner Knights had lied at one time or another in the course of a mission for the purpose of the greater good. Now, it was Kevin’s turn to learn something about himself… could he pull it off? Or was truth, in this case, so important to him that it would cost him essential information in this land of people who didn’t want him there? It simply wasn’t in his nature to be dishonest.
But he was going to have to try.
It was one of the most difficult choices he ever had to make.
“Then I thank you for the information,” he said quietly. “You are mayhap the only person in all of Wales who wants to have a constructive dialogue with me. Most believe I am their enemy.”
Her bright green eyes were watching him. “My father is not a warring man,” she said. “I have not been raised to hate the English.”
“Your father is a merchant, I understand.”
“He is.”
Kevin grunted. “At least he hates the church and not the English.”
Juliandra simply nodded her head, unsure how to reply. When Kevin lowered his head and looked back to his vellum, she spoke up.
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 66
