“And I am trying to answer you. But you are not allowing me to do so.”
Kenton didn’t say anything. He just stared at her. Nicola knew he was not soft, nor sympathetic in any way. This was the great Kenton le Bec, a man feared and hated throughout the realm. Why he had to attack Babylon was a stroke of bitter luck. They had held out as long as they could. Now she could see it was all at an end.
She lowered her gaze and looked away. “I will… show you.”
“You will tell me.”
“Please.” Her tone was almost desperate. “I must show you.”
“Madam, I am trying to be as tolerant as possible. Your stalling attempts are not well met.”
“I am not stalling, my lord. But I would ask…. please, that if you must know, you must allow me to show you.”
Kenton pondered that a moment. He didn’t like to compromise a demand. It showed weakness. But he removed his arms and stood back, indicating for the moment that he would trust her word as a lady and allow her to show him where her husband was. He motioned to Conor.
“Stay here with the prisoners,” he said. “I will take Gerik and Ack with me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Lord Thorne.”
Conor cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. He motioned to Gerik and Ackerley, who immediately went to their liege. The three knights followed Nicola from the kitchens, listening to the sobs of her youngest children undoubtedly thinking they would never see their mother again. From the great hall above the kitchens, she led them out into the bailey, hardly flinching at the death and destruction she saw there. Across the muck was a rather large, half-moon shaped structure built into the inner wall. There were long, thin windows on the curve of the structure, allowing weak light to penetrate into the gloom.
The interior was cool and dark, and Kenton immediately recognized the chapel. The majority of the room was set deep into the protective inner wall. Three pews were situated towards the front of the chamber and there were at least four sepulchers that he could see, two with large stone effigies affixed to the tomb.
Kenton paused by the door, thinking Gaylord to be a wise man to seek sanctuary within his own chapel. Public or private, the Holy Church had jurisdiction over all sacred meeting places and removing the man from here would prove controversial at best. He watched Nicola make her way over to one of the low-built, stone crypts.
“I am waiting, Madam.”
She looked at him and he could see a tremendous sadness in the pale green eyes. Then she reluctantly patted the stone. “He’s here.”
Kenton cast her a long look. “Where?”
“In here.”
“He’s dead?”
“Aye.”
“How long?”
“Four months now.”
He made his way over to her, slowly, his gaze sweeping across the plain, gray tomb. There was nothing of decoration on it at all. Without remorse or emotion, he turned to his knights. “Open it.”
Nicola was horrified. “No! You mustn’t!”
“I must confirm your story, Madam. Surely you know that.”
“But… you cannot violate his tomb!”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “There is no name on this tomb. It could be empty for all I know and your husband could be halfway to Scotland by now. If he is not in here, your children will receive the punishment for your lies. You do realize that, of course.”
“Of course I do, I’m no fool,” she struggled not to become hysterical. “He is in there, I tell you. I would not lie with my children’s lives at stake.”
Gerik returned to the chapel bearing a heavy hammer. He marched straight to the sepulcher and raised the hammer above his head.
“Wait!” Nicola cried. “Please, hear me first before you smash it to bits and release this horrible secret!”
Gerik ignored her. He was in the process of bringing the hammer down when Kenton stopped him. His incredible strength halted what surely would have been a crushing blow. Kenton looked at the woman, his blue eyes hard.
“This is the second mention of such a secret. You will tell me now.”
“I will. But please… do not smash the tomb.”
Kenton sent Gerik aside, waiting with the hammer as a threat to her should she not do as she was told. The lady stood there a moment, distress etched on her lovely features.
“I am waiting, Madam.”
She knew that. Lord, she knew that. “The children do not know that he is dead.”
“Why not?”
She sighed heavily, claiming a seat on the nearest pew for support. There was lethargy in her manner, a resignation of someone who had been witness to far too much pain and suffering.
“I told them that he is away, fighting Edward’s war.”
“Why would you do that?”
The tears that had been on the surface since their introduction came forth and spilled down her creamy cheeks. Kenton felt a strange tugging in his chest, something he didn’t recognize. Until he felt it again later in his life, he did not realize that it was compassion. He watched her wipe at her cheeks and summon bravery.
“My husband was not a kind man, my lord,” she said quietly. “He… he would drink quite often and find delight in using me to alleviate his fury. My boys knew this, of course. One night, nearly six months ago, my husband was releasing his fury by taking his fists to me. Tab heard this and….”
“Tab?”
“My eldest son.”
“Continue.”
Nicola swallowed, her mouth dry with embarrassment and fear. “Tab heard what his father was doing to me. He raced into our chamber and drove a sword into his father’s back. No one knows where he got the sword; he never would tell me. More than likely he stole it from a soldier. In any case, it wasn’t a deep puncture, but it did wound him. But it wasn’t the injury that killed Gaylord; it was the infection. My husband succumbed to the fever as a result of Tab’s sword.”
The tugging in Kenton’s chest grew worse but he ignored it. “I still do not understand what the secret is.”
Nicola looked at him, then, deep sorrow in her eyes. “Tab killed his father, my lord. He didn’t mean to, but he was protecting me. Tab doesn’t know; we never told him. He knew his father was sick, but to explain Gaylord’s sudden absence, we told the boys that he recovered and went back to war. Tab cannot know that his father is dead, much less that he was the cause of it. If you smash this tomb to confirm that Gaylord is there, I do not know how I can keep it from him.”
Kenton understood then. And from what he had seen of her eldest son in the kitchens, he had no doubt that the little lad was extremely protective of his mother and apparently for good reason. But he was a warrior, and he knew, perhaps more than anyone, that trust was misplaced in warfare. He took her by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
“I understand your dilemma, Madam,” he tried not to sound harsh. “But you must also understand that I have certain obligations. I must locate Gaylord Thorne, and if I must destroy this tomb in order to do so, then so be it.”
He handed her off to Gerik, trading the lady for the hammer. Nicola didn’t fly into a panic as she had nearly done before; she was beyond that. She simply stood there, staring at him with those great green eyes.
“Do you not trust my word, my lord?” she asked softly.
Kenton couldn’t believe it; a chill actually raced up his spine. Whether it be from her tone or her words, he wasn’t certain. All he knew was that this woman was somehow trying to bewitch him and he was tremendously annoyed by it. He wouldn’t look at her, nor would he answer.
“Please, Sir Kenton,” she begged quietly. “Please do not do this terrible thing.”
Kenton raised the tool. As Gerik pulled Nicola from the chapel, the last thing she heard was the hammer being slammed against the cold stone of Gaylord Thorne’s tomb.
They hadn’t touched the keep yet, but she knew that was only a matter of time. Nicola sat in the solar she loved so well,
gazing about at her furnishings, wondering what she was going to lose and how soon she was going to lose it. More than likely the soldiers would take everything, considering them spoils of war. She tried not to let her depression show, but it was difficult.
Tab sat at her feet, pretending to busy himself with the wheel of a toy cart. One of the twins had broken it and even at five years of age, Tab was mature beyond his years and was able to make the simple repair. He had learned at an early age to depend on himself or his mother, because his father was a cruel, vicious man who was only to be feared. Teague and Tiernan lay on the floor over by the hearth, playing with small wooden soldiers as they usually did. There were some old rushes between them, making a prime battle ground for their typical game of war. Nicola watched them distractedly, befuddled by the events of the past several days and concerned for her future and for her sons’ future.
So Kenton le Bec had them. She’d heard the name before, many times in the past, for the man was said to be King Henry’s, and Warwick’s, most powerful knight. He wasn’t a baron or an earl, but a mere knight, leading a thousand men into the most battle-weary regions of the country all in the name of the king. Everyone in Yorkshire, or England for that matter, was terrified of him, herself included.
He was the biggest man she had ever seen, with enormous arms the size of small trees. What she remembered of her observations, other than his colossal size, was the fact that he had blue eyes, and they were strikingly emphasized by a face that was as tanned as leather. And the face itself was tremendously intimidating, as she recollected; his jaw was square, and his cheekbones were sharp and angled. Other than that, she hadn’t any other observations because he had worn his armor and helm the entire time. Not that she cared about the rest of him in any manner, but she was willing to wager he had horns underneath his helm. Anyone who would smash a dead man’s tomb had to be purely evil, though it was merely the act of the desecration she found offensive. The fact that the knight had transgressed against Gaylord had no effect on her whatsoever.
A tray suddenly appeared beside her, distracting her from her thoughts. Nicola glanced up into the face of a young serving woman. She was petite and pretty in a pale sort of way. The girl smiled and offered her a cup on the outstretched tray.
“Mead, my lady,” she said.
Nicola took a cup. “So they are letting you move freely within the keep, Janet?”
The girl shrugged, handing a cup of goat’s milk with cinnamon to Tad. “There are soldiers about, watching our every move. But for the most part, we have been allowed to go back to our work.”
Nicola sipped the mead. It was sweet and tangy. “What of the knights?”
Janet knew what had happened to Gaylord’s crypt. All of the adults knew. She eyed the boys before continuing. “There are several around the castle, my lady. But I was talking to Hermenia and she seems to think that there are a select few in actual command.”
Hermenia was the old cook who also did the sewing and other household chores. She also gossiped like a magpie. “I see,” Nicola said. “Will you impart to me her wisdom, then?”
Janet smiled at the sarcasm. “Le Bec is unquestionably in command, but he has been seen relaying orders to three or four other knights, who then go about and make sure the deeds are carried out. But there are lesser knights all over the walls and out in the countryside where they hold our soldiers. I believe Hermenia has counted more knights than she has fingers and toes.”
Nicola didn’t like the sound of that. But she knew as much, considering it had only taken three days for Babylon to fall. Fortifications or not, her husband had only two hundred men and simply by le Bec’s sheer numbers and siege tower had they fallen.
“You and Hermenia will keep inside,” she instructed. “Liesl and Raven, too. I’ll not have the lot of you being abused by enemy soldiers.”
Janet nodded. “I’ve already told them as much, my lady.”
Nicola took another drink of her mead, this time deeply. “Especially Liesl and Raven. God’s Bones, but those two are silly and pliable.”
“They’re young, my lady,” Janet said. “Why do you think my mother sent them here, to serve with me? She hoped they would grow up.”
Nicola realized she sounded harsh and smiled at the woman who had served her faithfully for many years. She set the cup back on the tray just as the objects of her reproach, two very young girls of fifteen and sixteen years, entered the solar. Liesl, plain and pale like her older sister, and Raven, with dark hair and dark eyes, carried food for the boys. They had been as much companions and older sisters to the brood and Nicola was, in truth, thankful for their help. When Gaylord had beaten her ill for days on end, the sisters took care of her boys, and the little ones loved them.
“The knights are gathering in the great hall, my lady,” Raven said. “I fear they are up to no good.”
Nicola’s stomach lurched, but outwardly she remained calm. A gaggle of knights could never be a good thing.
“They are in control of Babylon now and we will do as they command. But,” she held up a finger, “I would have the two of you and your sister stay up here in the family apartments. I will not have you catching their attention in any way.”
Raven was all butterflies and innocence, pretending she was not capable of such things, while Liesl simply looked frightened. “We have no intention of catching their attention, my lady,” Raven said. “We plan to stay far, far away from them.”
Nicola didn’t think that would last, at least not by the knight’s standpoint. The reality was that someone had to serve the meals, which Liesl and Raven usually did. So did Janet. Keeping her girls from the knights and fighting men might prove difficult, but she would do her best to protect them. She sighed and stood up, stretching her legs as she walked across the room to the narrow lancet window.
The countryside beyond was green and moderately cool in the fall air. The breeze was chilly but she stood there a moment, letting it caress her, forgetting for a moment that she was captive in her own castle. But then again, she had been Gaylord’s captive for many years, so it was something she was accustomed to. She had resigned herself to the state of her life so many years ago that it was difficult to think of it any other way.
She heard one of the girls gasp behind her and she turned around. Standing in the doorway was a big blond knight. He eyed her appraisingly.
“Lord le Bec will have a word with you, Madam,” he said.
Nicola had no intention of arguing, though her heart was pounding in her chest. Before she could make it to the door, the twins were up and ready to do battle.
“You leave my mother alone!” Teague spoke with his terrible lisp.
Tiernan didn’t even speak; he simply ran at the knight and began punching his leg. The knight just stood there as Nicola calmly pulled her son aside and whispered something in his ear. Then she murmured something to the other twin and both boys turned back, pouting, to their toys. With a deep breath, she winked at Tab to reassure him and left with the knight. She could hear Tiernan crying as she walked towards the stairs and it nearly broke her heart. For the second time that day, their mother was being taken away.
Raven had been right; there were several knights gathered in the great hall. It was a long room with a huge hearth at one end and the colors of the House of Thorne flying from the open beams. The blond knight silently indicated a man standing next to the hearth and it took Nicola a moment to realize she was looking at le Bec without his helm.
She hadn’t recognized him. He sported a head of short, spikey dark hair, standing up from dirt and sweat. He had pieces of his plate armor off and as she approached him, she was terrified anew by the size of the man. He had a neck like a tree trunk.
Le Bec was studying the stone carvings of the hearth. Nicola stood a respectful distance away, silently, waiting for him to acknowledge her. After what seemed a small eternity, he looked at her with deep blue eyes. The mere expression on his face made her feel as if a bucket of
cold water had just been thrown on her. She could almost taste her fear, but she would never let him know it.
“Lady Thorne,” he moved from the hearth towards the long table that sat in the middle of the room. He perched his bulk on a corner and looked at her. “I am pleased that you did not lie to me.”
“My lord?”
“Your husband. His body was in the crypt.”
“You know my husband on sight, my lord?”
“I know all my enemies on sight.”
“I was not aware you had ever met my husband, my lord.”
Kenton nodded faintly. “On two occasions, once at a tourney and once in London.”
Nicola didn’t know what else to say. She simply stood there, feeling dumb and scrutinized. “If that is all, then I shall return to my children, my lord.”
“That is not all.”
He let her stand there for several more long, drawn out moments. Eyes lowered, she could hear the sounds around her. For the number of men in the room, it was eerily quiet. She knew they were all staring at her and she resisted the urge to snap at them.
“Babylon is mine,” Kenton said after an eternal and uncomfortable pause. “And with that reasoning, you and your household are also mine. Now that Gaylord is accounted for, it is time for you to be dealt with.”
Her head snapped up. “What does that mean – dealt with?”
His face was like stone. “Exactly that,” he said. “I’ve no use for a pampered lady about the place. Babylon will be a military installation from this day forward.”
He had succeeded in stirring her indignation. “Allow me to put your mind at ease, Sir Kenton,” she said sternly. “I am not, as you put it, a pampered lady. I am a functional part of this house and hold and run it quite efficiently.”
Kenton didn’t doubt for one second that she was not as capable as she said she was. He sensed a strength in her that set her apart from other noble women he had known and it was oddly intriguing. But he had a decision to make, strength or no.
“I’ll harbor no nursery here with miniature ruffians running about,” he said. “Your children have no place here.”
Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales Page 24
