A little more than an hour after Kevin left Juliandra, she found herself riding south towards the village of Pool surrounded by a veritable gang of English soldiers. It seemed like a lot of men even though the escort couldn’t have been more than fifty soldiers, but seeing all those armed Englishmen in one place, to a Welshwoman, was intimidating. If that wasn’t bad enough, three out of Wybren’s four knights were riding escort, including Kevin.
It was a heavily armed little group.
In the brief hour that she’d spent preparing for the trip to Pool, Juliandra had time to think about her predicament. Mostly, she was disappointed that Kevin hadn’t already asked her a good may questions about the area, the warlords, and the local politics. She was hoping the sooner he had his questions answered, the sooner her father would be released. He had told her that the possibility of her remaining at Wybren up to six months was a reality, but she was hoping that wasn’t really the case. She wasn’t exactly a prisoner, but she was fairly certain he would never let her simply walk out.
That was clear when he put her in the gatehouse chamber.
She had prepared quickly for the journey, washing up and running her fingers through her hair to comb it, and then had spent the rest of the time sitting by the window, watching people come and go. It had been somewhat interesting as she realized that Wybren Castle was very much like any other city. People came to do business at the castle and then they would return home again, much like any other business in any other town. The only difference was that anyone coming into the fortress was carefully examined, from top to bottom, by a well-armed group of soldiers.
The English were being terribly vigilant.
But, then again, they had to be.
As she watched the comings and goings, unfamiliar thoughts crept upon her that she had been unable to chase away. Thoughts that revolved around the handsome English knight now in command of Wybren. Try as she might, thoughts of Kevin came to her whether she wanted them to or not.
There was something about him that she couldn’t seem to shake.
Juliandra had never been one to pay attention to men, because the only men she ever came into contact with were those her father did business with or the local warlords who were solicitous towards her father because he was wealthy.
Her father, however, did not approve of warmongering, surprising for a man who had spent his entire life on the Marches, and he didn’t like the brash warriors who would come to his home, eat his food, and only speak of violence. Aeron had been one of those, and he had come repeatedly, but not for the fine food and drink.
He had come for another reason.
Gethin had realized early on that Aeron had been interested in his daughter. That had started a few years ago when her womanly curves began to fill out, and when Aeron finally offered for her hand, Gethin had made an excuse as to why his daughter could not be married. Bad fits, he’d told the man, much to Juliandra’s chagrin. But Aeron had been persistent in spite of the threat of “bad fits” and Gethin was forced to tell him that he did not want his daughter married to a warrior.
Still, that had not discouraged Aeron.
He had been relentless in his pursuit of her, more relentless the older she became. Because he had been pursuing her for so long, Aeron saw her as his property. He made sure everyone knew that she was meant for him, which resulted in an astonishing lack of suitors.
It had become an odd standoff – Aeron expecting Gethin to agree at some point and Gethin determined not to. Now that both Gethin and Juliandra were prisoners of the English, Juliandra was certain that Aeron would be made aware of what had happened because Megsy had returned to The Neath and Juliandra knew the old maid would not keep her mouth shut. Somehow, word would get back to Aeron and Juliandra was concerned about his reaction. She didn’t want the man creating trouble for her, for she had made a deal for her father’s freedom and she didn’t want Aeron to jeopardize that.
She was certain that Aeron wouldn’t see it that way.
An hour of reflection and contemplation had ended when a knock on her door roused her from her thoughts. Yanking the door opened, she was greeted by a fully armed knight in Kevin and when they’d first laid eyes on each other, Juliandra had felt a jolt. It was quick, like a lightning strike, and it had the same effect – her entire body was tingling from it. If Kevin felt it, he didn’t let on, and he hardly said a word to her as he led her down to the bailey where the escort awaited. He helped her mount a little palfrey before the entire escort encircled her and moved from the gates.
And that was where she currently found herself.
The ride south had been intensely quiet. Kevin was riding just ahead of her and another knight was riding point. The remaining knight was just behind her, for she could feel the weight of his stare. There was a storm off to the west, with rain and thunder rippling through the sky. It was the only sound to be heard among quiet knights and one quiet lady.
Riding in silence was starting to make Juliandra nervous.
“This time of year brings strong storms,” she commented, loud enough for Kevin to hear her. “I can remember a storm several years ago that nearly destroyed our village. Our pretty little brook became a roaring torrent of water and washed away several cottages.”
Kevin turned his head slightly, though he was wearing a great helm, which made movement difficult. But she saw him nod and return his attention to the road ahead. Undeterred, she spurred her little horse alongside his warhorse.
“You said you wanted to ask me questions,” she said. “Why not start now? We shall not arrive in Pool for another hour and conversation makes travel go more quickly.”
His helmed head turned to her again. “It also gives any outlaws waiting in the trees a beacon by which to strike,” he said. “We remain silent on a march, my lady.”
She frowned. “Is this a march?” she asked. “Are we going into battle and I was not aware? I thought we were only going into town.”
She heard him sigh heavily. “We are not on a battle march,” he said quietly. “But in case you have not realized it, we are enemies in an enemy land. We would make a fine target for a band of marauding Welsh.”
Juliandra looked around at the emerald-green landscape, the impossibly blue sky. “Those are the exact men you wish to know about, are they not?”
He didn’t answer her for a moment. Even though the helm was facing forward, Juliandra sensed that he was contemplating that question.
His response wasn’t long in coming.
“Then tell me who we may expect in this area, should a marauding band attack us,” he said.
Finally, she thought with relief. The sooner I can give him answers, the sooner I can free my father!
“These are the lands of a man named Glynn ap Hywel,” she said. “His home of Pentre Gwyn is not far from here.”
“Which direction?”
“West.”
“And you know this man?”
She shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “He came to visit my father on occasion. Once, my father took a trip to Asturias and Glynn supplied him with some guards in addition to the ones that belonged to him. My father paid well for those additional guards.”
“He is a friend of your father?”
She snorted softly. “My father has no friends who are warlords,” he said. “They are only necessary acquaintances, he says.”
“A wise perspective.”
She turned to look at him, noting the sapphire dragon tunic he was wearing. “I will admit that in addition to his low opinion of the church, my father has a low opinion of not only Welsh warlords, but English knights as well,” she said. “You are as close as I have ever been to an English knight. Do you think men who fight understand what it means to be true and noble friends to others?”
Kevin thought on his Executioner Knights brethren. He thought of Gareth, back at Wybren, as well as his brother and the other knights who formed the inner core of William Marshal’s stable of agents. He
thought of their honor, their willingness to die for one another, and the extreme bond they shared.
It was like nothing else on earth.
“Aye,” he said after a moment. “I believe men who fight can be the best and truest of friends. Nothing bonds men like facing life and death together. Nothing endears one man to another as much as a man who has just saved the life of his friend. Bonds between warriors are the strongest bonds I have ever seen.”
She was listening intently. “You sound as if you know these bonds.”
He nodded as much as his helm would allow. “I am fortunate enough to have formed some of my own.”
“Are you a champion, then?”
“Nay,” he said quietly. “But I have served in a company of the greatest champions the world has ever seen.”
He said it so reverently, almost like a prayer. Those words were sacred to him, she could tell. Somehow, the stiff and professional persona of Kevin de Lara seem to take on more dimension because she had just caught a glimpse of the emotion beneath.
The man had feelings.
“Do you still serve with them?” she asked. “These great champions, I mean. Are they still alive?”
He nodded slowly. “They are,” he said. “Although we almost lost my brother a couple of years ago in battle, but he has since recovered. The men I have served with are still alive, still doing their sworn duty.”
“What is that?”
His helmed head turned in her direction. “To protect England, of course.”
That sounded very much like an unemotional, upstanding English knight again, as if he’d realized that he had let his guard down for a brief moment. Even so, Juliandra had caught a glimpse of what lay below the surface, that mixture of knightly honor and a man’s natural emotion.
She found him increasingly fascinating.
“But you now command a bastion in Wales,” she said. “How is that protecting England?”
“I’m the one that is supposed to be asking the questions, remember?”
She fought off a grin, embarrassed. “You have only asked me a couple,” she said. “What else do you wish to know?”
He turned his head in her direction and she could see the glittering of his eyes through the slits in the helm’s faceplate.
“When I think of something, I will ask you,” he said. “Meanwhile, no more chatter. Get back behind me until we enter the village.”
Juliandra nodded, reining her horse back until she fell in behind him. There was less than an hour to go on the trip, so she settled back, satisfied for the moment with the conversation they’d had so far. She’d learned more about him than he had about the Welsh, but Juliandra was pleased about it. In a brief conversation, she’d come to learn a little about the fine knight who was in command of Wybren.
And she liked what she’d heard.
The village of Pool was a fairly large town nestled in the mid-Marches on the border between England and Wales. The party from Wybren entered from the north, along an avenue called Old Salop Road, and it dumped them into the end of a long, very busy avenue.
The Silver Fish.
That was the first sign they came to, a two-storied establishment that had black smoke belching out of its rear yard. There was a river that ran through the town, right next to this stretch of road, and the smell of cooking fish was heavy. But the people coming in and out of the business were looking at Kevin and his men as if the devil himself had just made an appearance, so Juliandra pushed to the front where Kevin and Bannon were in conversation about how to proceed.
“Please, my lords,” she said. “I fear that it will only bring trouble if you take the entire escort through town. It should only be just a few men, so as not to attract too much attention. Already, you are frightening people.”
She had a point; people were scattering. Kevin and Bannon looked at her.
“How far is your father’s shop?” Kevin asked.
She pointed down the street. “There is a town square with a common well,” she said. “My father’s shop is on the square.”
“Very well,” he said, turning to Bannon. “You take the escort back to the road and find someplace to conceal them. Tell Cal to accompany me.”
Bannon nodded, heading back to the men and quietly issuing orders. Immediately, the escort turned about and headed back out onto the road. As this was being accomplished, Kevin dismounted his horse and removed his belt and scabbard. As Juliandra watched curiously, he removed as much as he had to in order to remove his tunic, which he tucked into his saddlebag. Wisely, he was concealing the sapphire dragon of de Lara so he wouldn’t make himself a target. The belt, the helm, and the scabbard went back on again just as Cal came riding up.
“Where are we going?” Cal asked eagerly. “Looks as if we have the entire village already on the run.”
There was something gleeful in the way he said it and Kevin shot him a quelling look.
“We are going to the lady’s father’s shop,” he said steadily. “Remove your tunic. The villagers are already spooked and I do not wish to exacerbate the situation.”
Cal made an unhappy face but dutifully removed a few things so that he could pull off his tunic. With the escort moving out to the road to wait under Bannon’s command, Kevin and Juliandra proceeded into the village with Cal bringing up the rear.
For being a town in the wilds of Wales, Pool had more than its share of businesses. There were bakers, market stalls, fish mongers, butchers, and more, and by the time they reached the town center with its big well and even larger trough of fresh water for the villagers to use, most of the businesses were merchants. There was even an artist displaying his colorful paintings on wood panels in front of his shop.
Juliandra led them straight to a two-storied wattle and daub building, whitewashed with big, wooden crossbeams. Carved above the door was a name – Garreg – and nothing else. Evidently, it didn’t need anything else, for it was the largest building on the square and when Juliandra opened the door, it was full of customers.
Juliandra charged in and Kevin followed, leaving Cal outside to watch the door. The shop was so packed with items that it was difficult to move without bumping into something. With Kevin’s size, he was having a difficult time trying to keep pace with Juliandra.
A few of her father’s servants called out to her as she made her way inside, greeting her, and she waved to them quickly before disappearing into a back chamber. Kevin was right behind her, nearly plowing into the back of her because she had come to a sudden halt just inside the door. A small man with long, gray hair tied at the back of his head greeted her amiably, but when he saw Kevin, he visibly recoiled.
“Do not be afraid, Kymbal,” Juliandra said. “This is simply my escort, Sir Kevin. Papa is… well, he has business elsewhere at the moment, so you must take good care of the store for now.”
The old man was still looking fearfully between Kevin and Juliandra. “Business?” he repeated. “What business? I did not know of this.”
He spoke in Welsh. Since Kevin had grown up on the Marches, he understood the language, but Juliandra didn’t know that. She answered in English.
“It came up swiftly,” she said, looking at Kevin. “This is Kymbal ap Rhos. He has tended the accounting for this store for two generations, for my father and his father before him. I think he will be around long after I am dead because he does not seem to age.”
She was smiling as she said it, a clever move, because she’d meant to put the old man at ease. It worked. Kymbal tore his fearful gaze from Kevin, looking at Juliandra with humor in his expression.
“Silly girl,” he said in English, but the warmth in his eyes quickly faded. “Your father was supposed to come here a few days ago because his men had brought items from France. He was to inspect them before we sold them. Have you come to look them over?”
Juliandra pondered that question for a moment. There was no telling when Kevin was going to release her father, or let her out of Wybren for that matter
, so she needed to take care of as much of her father’s business as she could while she was here. Without asking Kevin’s approval, she nodded.
“Aye,” she said. “Show me.”
Kymbal headed into the yard behind the shop and she followed without a glance to Kevin. The area behind the shop was open, with a big yew tree in the middle, and it was heavily secured with a wooden fence and Gethin’s personal guards. As Juliandra emerged into the yard, the soldiers were startled to see Kevin behind her, who was heavily armed. Swords began to come out, including Kevin’s, and Juliandra threw up her hands.
“Nay!” she cried to her father’s men. “Put your weapons away. This knight is my escort. He has not come to wreak havoc.”
Kevin was standing in the doorway, his enormous broadsword out and at the ready. There were six of Gethin’s men, prepared to protect the goods that were in the yard beneath a large oiled piece of canvas, as Juliandra waved her hands furiously and tried to avoid a bloodbath. She demanded that her father’s men sheathe their swords, and they did… but very slowly. Kevin held his until the very last man had put his weapon away. Then, and only then, did he sheathe his broadsword.
But he didn’t move from the door.
As Kevin kept watch of Gethin’s hired men, and the hired men kept watch of Kevin, Juliandra began the inspection of the goods that had come from France. She knew that the men with weapons were posturing suspiciously around her, but she was more interested in the contents of the seven large trunks.
Truth be told, if she wanted to escape, she could have – she could have let her father’s men attack Kevin while she ran away, but that wouldn’t do her father any good. As much as she wanted to get away, she had to behave herself if she was to obtain her father’s freedom.
Sadly, an escape was out, but somehow, there was more to not wanting to escape than simply holding to a bargain with an English knight. It was Kevin himself that might have been holding her back.
Might.
Perhaps she simply didn’t want the man to think badly of her, or perhaps she might have liked talking to him.
Lord of the Sky (The Executioner Knights Book 6) Page 10
