“Indeed, he is,” Trenton agreed. “That is a fine name.”
Brencis was losing herself in dreams of her future pony. “And he shall be white,” she said. “I want a white pony and when I ride him, he will be able to jump things. Lots of things. Like this!”
With that, she began to run in circles, pretending to jump invisible barriers. Trenton watched with some amusement, seeing the innocence of life through the eyes of a child. That wasn’t something he ever got to witness, so it was a rarity. His life was full of espionage and death, things that were the worst society had to offer, so to spend a few minutes with a little girl whose biggest dream was owning a pony was something of a sweet experience for him.
Something few and far between.
It also made him think of the child he had lost, the little boy that Alicia had died alongside. That had been ten years ago, so his son would have been a little older than Brencis. In the beginning, right after Alicia’s death, he used to wonder what his son would have been like and what traits he would have had. He hadn’t thought of the boy in some time but in speaking with Brencis, he was reminded again. It was difficult not to long for a son who never had a chance in life.
“Did you see me jump high?”
Brencis was standing in front of him, tugging on his hand. Jolted from his train of thought, he smiled weakly.
“I did,” he said. “You did a very good job.”
Brencis beamed. “I can jump higher!”
To prove her point, she rushed around and began jumping again while Trenton watched. He thought she was a rather cute little girl and he could only imagine Matthew’s pride in her. But just as she jumped very high and ended up falling to her knees, her older sister entered the stables.
“Cissy!” Cynethryn scolded. “Mama has been looking everywhere for you!”
As Brencis struggled to her feet, Cynethryn grabbed her hand and began to yank her along. But the little sister balked and tried to pull away.
“Nay!” she said. “I do not want to leave yet! I have to help feed the horses!”
Cynethryn frowned. “Cissy, Mama says you must come.”
“I do not want to go!”
“If you are bad, I will tell Papa!”
That brought Brencis to a halt and, in that moment, Trenton could see the fear the child had of her father. But he could also see that Cynethryn was more than willing to use that threat against her little sister, a rather severe and unhappy threat from child to child. Considering that the children must have known what their father was capable of, Trenton found it surprising that Cynethryn would say such a thing.
“Your father is not here right now,” he said, watching two pairs of big blue eyes turn to him. “But your sister is right, Lady Brencis. You must not behave so. The horses will be fed, have no fear. And thank you for giving Dewi your treats. I am sure he is grateful.”
Brencis was crestfallen that she wouldn’t be able to help feed the horses. Looking like a whipped dog, she looked to her sister with a pathetic expression on her face.
“I will come,” she said sadly. Then, she looked to Trenton. “Will you come, too?”
Before Trenton could reply, Cynethryn spoke. “Nay,” she said quickly, her attention turning to Trenton. “You will not come. Only Brencis.”
Trenton met the child’s gaze, sensing a good deal of hardness in one so young. Last night, the child had been rather quiet, so he hadn’t spoken to her much at all. But this morning, he could see what the smoke and noise of the hall had drowned out – this child was no wilting violet. She had iron in her blood and he sensed that she was wary of him.
“I have no intention of coming,” he said evenly. “I am not finished with Dewi, but I thank you for your kind invitation all the same.”
Brencis simply looked depressed as Cynethryn yanked her along, pulling her out of the stable and into the muddy stable yard.
Trenton watched the pair go, wondering if Cynethryn was always so firm or if that was purely for his benefit. Somehow, he didn’t think so. He could see the rigidity in her. Perhaps it was her nature, brought on by a brutal father, or perhaps it was something else. Trenton couldn’t imagine one of Matthew Wellesbourne’s grandchildren to be so hard. But then again, she was the product of an unusually cruel father. Although Trenton went through life showing limited concern for those he wasn’t close to, he couldn’t help but feel concern for the little girl with the hard manner.
Something in her eyes had his interest.
But he didn’t linger on it. Just as he was about to turn away, he caught sight of Lysabel entering the stable yard and running straight into her daughters. Suddenly, he wasn’t so concerned with tending Dewi as Lysabel now filled his field of vision, and he watched as she gently scolded Brencis. He could tell by her body language that she wasn’t happy with her youngest child, and Brencis was starting to weep. She began rubbing her eyes as Lysabel bent over and kissed her on the head.
At that point, Trenton felt as if he should perhaps defend the child or, at the very least, let her mother know that she had been trying to be helpful. Leaving his horse sucking down the oats, he left the stable and headed for the trio in the center of the stable yard.
“Greetings, Lady de Wilde,” he said pleasantly. “It is a fine morning.”
Startled by his appearance, Lysabel turned to him with both surprise and pleasure on her face. “Good morn to you, Trenton,” she said. “You are up very early.”
He smiled at her words, drinking in the sight of her and feeling his heart flutter, just a little. “I have never known anything else,” he said. “There are times that I do not sleep at all and simply greet the morning as the night fades away. In fact, your youngest daughter is up early, too. She was very helpful to me this morning as I tended my horse.”
Lysabel’s attention moved between Brencis and Trenton. “I see,” she said, although she didn’t sound particularly pleased. Finally, she sighed. “Cissy is consumed by horses. She rises early nearly every morning to help with the feedings. I have told her that it is an unseemly task for a young girl, but she does not wish to listen.”
Trenton’s gaze moved to the little girl, still in the grip of her older sister. “There is nothing wrong with loving horses,” he said. “I love them myself and, in fact, they seem to love her. My warhorse took her treat quite calmly, which means he understands she loves him. Horses know these things.”
As Lysabel looked doubtful, Brencis’ face lit up. “They do?” she said. “Does he really know I love him? I do, you know.”
Trenton’s grin broadened. “Of course he knows,” he said. “But I will still tell you not to go near him unless I am around. He is not a pet, my lady. You must be careful around him.”
Brencis nodded eagerly, but he could see that she probably didn’t mean it. As he tried to think of a way to convince her again to never go near the animal without him around, Lysabel gestured towards the manse.
“Take her inside, Cinny,” she said. “Wash her face and hands.”
Cynethryn didn’t move right away; she glanced at Trenton first. “Aren’t you coming, Mama?”
Lysabel nodded. “Of course I am,” she said. “Go, now. I will come in a moment.”
Now, Cynethryn’s gaze moved to Trenton full-on, her blue eyes cold and appraising. Trenton simply looked back at the child, neutrally, until she finally turned away and pulled her younger sister with her. The adults watched the pair walk away before Lysabel turned to Trenton.
“I am sorry if Cissy was a nuisance this morning,” she said. “She loves horses so that I fear she will make a nuisance of herself in any case.”
Trenton wasn’t thinking so much about Brencis as he was about Cynethryn and the threatening way she’d been looking at him. “She did not make a nuisance of herself,” he said. Then, he scratched his neck in a reluctant gesture. “But she did feed my warhorse pears whilst I was not around, and that horse is violent. He has been known to stomp men to death, so you must stress to her n
ot to go near the horse for her own safety.”
Lysabel’s eyes widened. “God’s Bones,” she breathed. “Of course I will tell her. Thank you for warning me.”
He simply nodded, his gaze moving over her in the early morning light. He still couldn’t believe that in all the years he’d known the woman, he’d never realized how beautiful she was.
He’d been a fool.
“No harm done,” he said, pretending to turn back for the stable when what he was really doing was working up the courage to continue the conversation while not seeming too eager about it. “In truth, Brencis reminded me of something. There is a village to the north. I passed through it on my way here.”
Lysabel nodded. “Ilchester.”
“Ilchester,” he repeated. “I was planning on visiting the village and I wondered if you and your daughters would like to come along.”
Lysabel smiled. “That would be lovely,” she said. “Why do you need to visit the village? Mayhap, I can direct you to the proper merchant.”
“I am not quite sure yet.”
It was a cryptic answer, but a truthful one. He had no idea; he simply wanted to do something with Lysabel, and he didn’t want to leave her daughters behind, so he thought a trip into the village would give them a chance to spend time together. Perhaps the older one might look less like she wanted to slit his throat if she came to know him. But Lysabel didn’t have to know that; he watched as she laughed softly at his vague reply.
“In that case, how can I refuse?” she said. Then, she sobered somewhat. “In fact, I was hoping to ask a favor of you today, Trenton.”
“Anything. What is it?”
Now it was her turn to appear reluctant. “In speaking of my father last night, it occurred to me that I have not seen him in some time,” she said. “I have a great urge to visit my parents and I was wondering – if you do not have other plans to attend to – if you could escort us to Wellesbourne Castle for a visit.”
He dipped his head gallantly. “It would be my pleasure, Lady de Wilde,” he said. “When would you like to go?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
He shook his head. “It is not,” he said. “But I should like to form a proper escort. Who is your man in charge of the soldiers at Stretford?”
“His name is Markus de Aston,” she said. “From the Oakhampton de Astons. He has served my husband for several years and, to be truthful, he has no great love for Benoit. However, as I told you, Markus only knows that Benoit has left and nothing more.”
Trenton took that into consideration. “And I will make sure that is all he knows,” he said. “It might be good if you could introduce me to the man and tell him what we are planning so he does not have to take orders from a complete stranger.”
Lysabel agreed. “He surely saw you last night in the feasting hall, as he was present,” she said. “But I will make sure he knows that he is expected to take orders from you.”
With that, she smiled at Trenton and turned to leave the stable yard. He was on her heels, following her, looking forward to the trip to Wellesbourne perhaps more than he should have. It would take at least two or three days to reach Wellesbourne Castle.
Two or three days of being with Lysabel.
He could think of nothing else he’d rather do.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sir Markus de Aston was a high caliber knight, a support for the Sheriff of Ilchester’s position, who had come through Matthew Wellesbourne, Earl of Hereford, by way of the de Nerra family of Erith Castle in Cumbria. From the Somersetshire de Aston family, Markus was tall, muscular, with reddish-blond hair, and rather good-looking, and he had come to Stretford Castle because Wellesbourne had enough knights and Matthew thought he was doing a good turn by sending such an excellent knight to serve his son-in-law.
But he’d sent Markus into a hellish situation, something the young knight had been forced to endure for a few years. But the main issue with Markus was that, having come from Wellesbourne, he was somewhat protective and partial to Lysabel, as Matthew’s daughter. Watching her suffer with a bastard of a husband when there was nothing he could do about it had turned him into a stiff, rather embittered man.
As a man of emotion, the only way to save himself was to harden his natural tendencies. And now, with Trenton’s presence, he didn’t seem any less hard. In fact, the mere suggestion that he go against what he believed Benoit would want hardened him even further.
He knew what his liege was capable of.
Lysabel had introduced the young knight to Trenton and explained that he would be forming an escort to take her and her daughters to Wellesbourne Castle. That suggestion alone was going against anything Benoit would agree to, and Markus naturally balked.
“We cannot go,” he said flatly. “Lord Benoit will return at any time and he would be displeased to see that his family had gone to Wellesbourne without his permission. I am sorry, but you cannot go, Lady de Wilde.”
In truth, Lysabel had expected a refusal, but not so quickly or so firmly. They had gathered to discuss the request in the same solar where Trenton and Lysabel had their lovely conversation the night before, a solar where all of the riches of the de Wilde coffers were on display. Trenton was standing by the door as Lysabel and Markus stood over near the big table, cluttered with Benoit’s things. It was a stark reminder of the lie that Trenton and Lysabel were perpetuating, leaving things as if the man would be returning any day. Therefore, it was no wonder that Markus rejected the suggestion of traveling to Wellesbourne Castle.
It was not what the lord would want.
Hearing Markus’ staunch denial, Lysabel knew she had to tread carefully. Markus was very much a man who carried out his lord’s wishes, whether or not he agreed with him. But Lysabel also knew that there had been many a time when Markus hadn’t agreed with Benoit, and it was to the man who at times had showed consideration for other factors that she aimed her plea.
“Markus,” she said patiently. “I realize you are only doing what you believe is in my best interest, but you must look at it from my perspective. I’ve not seen my parents in a very long time and Wellesbourne Castles is only a two-day ride from here. While I am waiting for my husband to return, I would like to visit my parents, whom I love very much. They have not seen their granddaughters in almost a year. Would you deny my father his joy in seeing his granddaughters?”
Markus faced her, his manner firm but bordering on angry. “My lady, if Lord Benoit returns home and you are not here, it will not go well for either of us,” he said. He eyed Trenton a moment before lowering his voice. “Must I make this plain in front of a stranger?”
Lysabel didn’t like that Trenton was being called a stranger. “He is not a stranger,” she said. “I told you who he was. I have known him my entire life. You may speak freely in front of him.”
Markus’ gaze settled on the woman. It was clear that he was mulling over her answer. All he knew was that an unfamiliar knight had arrived the previous evening and, today, he was being told this man would be escorting Lord Benoit’s wife and children to Wellesbourne. Nay, he didn’t like that at all.
“My lady, forgive me, but although you may know him, I do not,” he said, trying to be patient. “It is my responsibility to tend to the welfare of you and your children while Lord Benoit is away. I cannot, in good conscience, turn your safety over to a knight I do not know. I am sorry if you do not understand that.”
Lysabel was not only becoming embarrassed, she was becoming angry. “My safety,” she snorted quietly. “You only care for it when my husband is not here. When he is here, you look the other way like everyone else. Your words are empty to me, Markus, so pretend not as if my safety is truly your concern. Your only concern is Benoit’s reaction if he was to return and discover I was gone.”
Markus straightened up, eyeing the woman whose well-aimed tongue had hit him where it hurt – his integrity. It was the very thing he’d wrestled with since the day he assumed his post at Stretford and r
ealized very quickly that he served a man who beat his wife, among other infractions. And it wasn’t an occasional thing; it was frequent, resulting in a woman who was broken and bruised most of the time. When he wasn’t beating her, he was out whoring, or robbing from his vassals, or any number of unsavory things.
Nay, Markus didn’t any of it, but he turned a deaf ear to it because there was nothing he could do. Benoit de Wilde was his liege and his duty was to serve the man. In that respect, he supposed his words to the lady were, indeed, hollow. Hollow in so many things.
But he had no choice.
“Mayhap that is true, my lady,” he said. “If your husband were to discover I let you go to Wellesbourne Castle, then there would be hell to pay for the both of us.”
Lysabel looked at him a moment before turning to Trenton. Standing back in the shadows of the room, he was simply listening to everything going on very carefully. She was looking for some manner of direction in his expression but he gave her none. Frustrated, she was about to do what she swore to him that she wouldn’t do – she wanted Markus’ cooperation but he wasn’t going to give it to her unless he knew the truth, and perhaps not even then.
But she had to try.
“I want you to listen to me, Markus, and listen carefully,” she said. “And I want your oath as a knight that what I tell you will never leave your lips. Will you do this?”
He hesitated a moment. “Aye, my lady.”
“Then swear it.”
“I swear upon my oath that I shall not repeat what you tell me.”
“And I will swear to you that what I tell you is the truth. I will make this vow before God.”
“As you say, my lady.”
With a heavy sigh, she looked at Trenton again, who by now had an expression on his face that suggested concern. He had an idea of what she was going to say, but he didn’t stop her; perhaps he, too, understood that such an illusion couldn’t be kept from those in command. It was clear that Markus’ loyalties were with Benoit regardless of how he personally felt about the man. That being the case, he would continue to be loyal to him and Lysabel would continue to be a prisoner with the ghost of Benoit de Wilde hanging over her, in death as he did in life. As long as Markus believed Benoit would return, he would continue to carry out his duties as his lord would want him to.
Dark Moon (The de Russe Legacy Book 6) Page 7
