“You will walk, lady,” he said in a low voice.
She was sobbing so hard that she could not catch her breath. One hand came away from a very red and very wet eye, struggling to not look at the bodies around her.
“I… I…” she was weeping so hard that it all came out as a heavy stammer. “I… am trying but I cannot… I….”
Something that he thought might be irritation swept him. But on its heels was another unidentifiable emotion that tugged at his chest again. For a man who had been emotionally dead most of his life, the sensations were bizarre. He didn’t like them one bit.
“If you do not walk into the keep, I will leave you here for the vultures,” he said in a hazardous tone. “Walk or remain. You choose.”
With that, he marched back to the steps of the keep, mounting them and disappearing into the second floor entry.
Kellington didn’t know how long she stood there, weeping and sick. But eventually, the tears faded and an overwhelming urge to leave the area washed over her. She simply couldn’t stand in the midst of all of these dead men. Out of necessity, she removed the hands from her eyes, focusing on the bloody mud of the bailey and hoping that would prevent her from seeing anything that would cause her to lose the contents of her stomach. She could smell something horrible all round her, knowing it was the rotting bodies. It was beyond belief. She started to walk, went off balance dangerously, and fell to her knees.
Jax saw her go down. He and his second in command had been standing at the lancet window of her father’s solar. The blond knight who usually led all interrogations looked at Jax.
“Do you want me to go and retrieve her?”
Jax’s dual-colored eyes gazed steadily at the limp form struggling to rise from the blood and muck. The tugging in his chest grew worse and his confusion over it was growing. It only made his manner snappish.
“Nay,” he said, turning from the window. “She was strong enough to beg for her father’s life and accept my punishment. She is strong enough to walk into the keep by herself.”
“As you say.”
“What do you mean by that?”
The blond knight lifted an eyebrow as if confused by the question. “Exactly what I said.”
Jax cast the man a long look as if trying to interpret a hidden meaning in his statement. Amadeo le Somes had been with Jax for six years, an efficient war machine like his liege. He was perhaps the only man in Jax’s Corp who could speak to him without cowering. After a moment, Jax realized he was being foolish and turned for the wine pitcher in the corner.
Amadeo watched his liege take a long drink from the pitcher. He knew Jax well enough to know that something was bothering him. As emotionless as he was, the snappish manner was giving him away.
“What is wrong, my lord?” he asked quietly.
Jax swallowed with satisfaction, took a deep breath, and downed several more swallows before setting the jug down.
“Why do you ask?”
“You seem edgy. Is something not to your liking? Do you have something more on your mind?”
Jax shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is she standing yet?”
Amadeo’s gaze moved to the window and he peered outside. “Aye,” he said after a moment. “She moving slowly, but she’s moving.”
“Good. Get her in here.”
Amadeo quit the solar only to return a short time later with a disheveled figure. He held on to Kellington’s arm as if fearful she was going to topple again; she was still an odd shade of gray. Out of necessity, not kindness, he directed her into the nearest chair and she sat heavily, a shaking hand to her forehead.
Jax stood several feet away; he watched her closely, almost curiously, wondering why she was so shaken by the sight of dead men. It occurred to him that some wine might fortify her. Without care, he poured her a sloppy cup and handed it to Amadeo, who thrust it into her face. She accepted it with quaking hands and drained the entire cup.
“Now,” Jax would not acknowledge her behavior in the bailey. “We will move to the heart of things. You will list Pelinom’s sundry functions, no matter how small, and give me an estimate of return.”
She looked up at him with her pale face. “May I have more wine?”
Silently, Amadeo poured her another cup and the men waited while she drank half of it. Wiping her mouth delicately with her hand, she returned her gaze to the enormous warrior.
“Why did you do that to my father’s men?” her question was hardly above a whisper.
He almost asked her what she meant. What he did was normal routine. But he realized what she was asking and instead of being inflamed by it, he actually searched for an answer that would make some sense to her. He had no idea why he should indulge her. Gazing into that lovely face, the tugging in his chest was beginning to overtake his torso. He was coming to hate the sensation.
“That is the way of war,” he replied. “Your father is a warrior. Surely you understand something of it.”
She lifted her slender shoulders, looking back to her cup. “Pelinom has been peaceful as long as I can recall. My father has only seen two skirmishes in the past ten years and both of those were on the borders, not at the castle. I’ve never seen a siege.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You had better become use to it.”
Her head snapped up. “But you already have Pelinom. Why must I become accustomed to this… this horror? Why did you put those men on stakes to rot?”
His dual colored eyes flashed. “I am not here to answer your questions, lady. You will answer mine. I will again repeat my demand of a tally of Pelinom’s sundry functions and take.”
Her golden brown eyes flashed as well; some of the color was returning to her cheeks. “Pelinom has three hundred head of sheep, to be shorn twice year and the wool sold at market in Carlisle and Jedburgh. Depending on the market price, we can glean as much as ten gold marks per bale of quality wool. Three hundred head will bring fifteen hundred gold marks if the market is high, but this is also open to negotiation of which I am most proficient.” She was speaking quickly, angrily. “As for other sundry functions, we harvest lumber from the Lennel Forest to the north which we will also take to market at Berwick come spring. That is also when we do any major purchasing for the castle, such as manufactured goods. Berwick has more of an export market than Carlisle and we buy all manner goods from across the sea.”
“Anything else?”
“Honey, apricots and cherries in the spring and summer; cranberries, apples and pears in the fall. We have orchards of them.”
“How much do those goods bring in?”
“It depends on the market, but they can bring as much as one gold mark a bushel, and we will harvest hundreds of bushels. Honey will bring three times that, although we will not harvest as much.”
“What do you measure honey by?”
“A full or a half-head.”
Jax digested the information. He knew Pelinom to be wealthy, but he honestly had no idea how wealthy until this moment. It would give him much needed funds for his coffers, to pay more men to fight for him, to purchase more weapons to take over the border between Berwick and Kelso, from the Hills of Teviot to the River Tweed.
“Now that you know everything, are you going to put me on a pole like those men in the ward?”
The lady’s soft voice came floating up to him, interrupting his thoughts of domination. He turned to her, his gaze drifting over her blond head and the sweet curves of her face. She had the most beautiful face, something that he had noticed from the beginning. There was something about the woman that intrigued him above any other woman he had ever met.
It was his interest that decided she was of value to him. He was thinking with his loins and not his mind that usually made his decisions for him. The lady knew too much about Pelinom to so easily rid himself of her. More than that, he didn’t particularly want to dispose of her. This plucky, lovely, feisty little woman was a curiosity to him and until he figur
ed it out, he would keep her around.
“Not at the moment,” he answered her question, but any elaboration on his reply was cut short as several men entered the room. Jax poured himself more wine as the knights filtered in, his dual-colored gaze focusing on the men around them.
“Since you will be captive in your own castle, I think it only fair you know the men who hold your life in their grasp and understand they are nothing to be trifled with,” he lifted his cup in the direction of the blond knight who had taken charge of her the night of Pelinom’s capture. “This is Amadeo de Somes; his mother is Roman, his father French, so he possesses all of the nasty temperament of those who hate England. Next to him,” he gestured to the knights standing to Amadeo’s left, “stand Henley de Cairon, Michael de Comlach and Caelen Penn. They are sworn to me above all else and would not hesitate to die or kill for me, so I suggest you learn to respect them.”
Kellington’s gaze drifted over the four knights he had indicated; the blond was young and fairly handsome, while the other three were tall, broad, large and hairy, in that order. She could see nothing spectacular about them other than they were dirty, exhausted men with dirty mail, just like their liege. They gazed back at her with varied degrees of disinterest. The hairy one even picked his nose and looked away.
“If you do not plan to impale me like those men in the bailey, what are your intentions for me?” she sounded suspiciously as if she was demanding. “Am I to be sent back to the vault or do you have other plans?”
He poured his fourth cup of wine since entering the room. “You will return to the duties you assumed before I became Lord of Pelinom,” he said, taking a long swallow. “You will continue to administer her riches and maintain the keep as chatelaine. You will have as much freedom as necessary to complete your duties but you will not, for any reason, leave this keep. Is that clear?”
“If you expect me to maintain my duties, then I must indeed leave the keep on occasion,” she replied. “We have orchards and herds, my lord. I must see to them with my own eyes as keeper of the stores.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “Then let me rephrase my statement. You will not leave this keep without one of my knights as escort. To do so will incur my wrath and I believe you have already had a taste of that. A second taste will not be pleasant in the least.”
He saw her cheeks flame just before she lowered her head. Jax watched her a moment, thinking such alien thoughts that it was difficult to grasp just one. Ideas that had not entered his mind since he had been a young, ambitious boy blossomed like unwanted bramble, cluttering up his thoughts to the point of distraction. He entertained strange things, like the color of her cheeks as she blushed. It was a lovely color.
… lovely color?
“If you have no more questions, then you may retreat to your chamber,” he was suddenly snappish, angry at himself. “You will not leave it until I send for you.”
Her head came up, the golden-brown eyes fixing on him. “May I ask a question, my lord?”
He had turned back to his cup by then, grunting by way of an answer. She took it as an affirmative.
“Where is my father?”
He drained the cup and set it down with a clang. When he turned to look at her, he could see enormous ponds of tears welling in both eyes. He had been prepared to dismiss her question but the look on her face caused his acerbic answer to die in his throat. God’s Blood, what was happening to him?
“He is no longer any concern to you.”
“But you said that he was alive still” she pleaded, blinking away the tears. “Please, just tell me where he is and I shall retreat to my chamber and not ask you again. Please.”
Next to Jax, Amadeo snapped his fingers at one of the knights and the man moved forward and grabbed her by the arm. He was the broad one, rather short but with meaty hands that were biting. They squeezed her tender flesh as he yanked her towards the solar door. Kellington winced but she did not cry out.
“Hold,” Jax boomed.
The knight, Michael de Comlach, came to a halt. He faced his lord as the man walked upon him, towering above him by well over a head. But Jax’s focus wasn’t on the knight; it was on the lady.
Without a word, he took her from his knight, with more power than brutality, and escorted her forcibly from the room. When the small solar was devoid of his overwhelming presence, Michael looked to Amadeo with confusion.
“Was I not supposed to remove her?” his Scots accent was thick. “Where is he taking her?”
Amadeo shook his head, his pale blue eyes distant at the empty doorway. “Perhaps he is taking her back to the vault.”
“I saw her in the ward,” the big and hairy knight, Caelen Penn, moved for the wine pitcher that his lord had nearly emptied. “She’ll not survive another bout out there. ’Tis no place for womenfolk.”
Amadeo’s gaze lingered on the empty doorway a moment longer before moving to Caelen and pulling the wine jug away from him. When Caelen snarled at him, he drained the jug and smashed the earthenware pitcher over his head.
Caelen staggered away but none of the other knights lifted an eyebrow. They were hunting for wine of their own; Michael caught a thin male servant hovering in the hall outside the sent the man to the kitchens for more drink and food. Henley, the only knight so far who had yet to speak or smash wine jugs, lingered by the lancet window with a singed oilcloth; it had caught fire sometime during the siege and now hung in tatters.
“So where do we go from here?” he turned to Amadeo as the man walked up beside him. Together, they studied the ward outside.
“To the southwest,” Amadeo replied, wondering just how much he should tell the man. There wasn’t much trust between Jax and Amadeo and the rest of the men; they’d seen too many turn to hold implicit trust. “White Crag Castle, I’m told. It’s about a day and half ride. And he’s called his generals from the Marches for a conference. They should be arriving in a few days.”
“Conference?” Henley repeated. “What for? Those men already have garrisons to rule and prizes to be had. Why is he calling them to the Scots border?”
Amadeo could hear the jealousy in his voice. “Because this border may prove to be more difficult,” he replied. “The Welsh are bad but the Scots are worse. He needs their council. More than that, they’re bringing fifty retainers each to reinforce our ranks. That’s three hundred more men.”
Henley sulked. “We were all promised castles to rule once we were finished securing this border. We all have our reward coming.”
Amadeo lifted a blond eyebrow. “And you shall have it. Do not be threatened by the March generals. I’m sure they have no aspirations for Scots garrisons.”
Henley nodded slowly, as if he did not believe him, turning to watch the giant ravens as they circled over the bailey; some of them had already descended on the bodies, plucking at the flesh. It was a gruesome sight but these men were too hardened to notice.
Henley turned away from the window as the skinny servant entered with a platter of food. Amadeo and the others, too, swarmed on the tray, shoving the servant out of the way. The man was lucky to escape with his life. All thoughts of the next conquest, the bodies in the bailey, and the lady of Pelinom vanished from their thoughts as they downed the wine and shoveled in the bread. All that mattered to them was that they would receive their share of the booty.
Such was the mind of a mercenary.
CHAPTER FOUR
Pelinom had an enormous keep that was four stories tall, five if one counted the tower rooms on the each corner turret of the roof. The first, or bottom floor, was the basement with stores, the kitchen and the well. One could access the second floor by a small stairwell cut built into the thickness of the wall. The second floor, reached by a retractable wood and iron staircase, held a small entry, an equally small solar, and an enormous hall with a gallery above. The third floor was cut in half by the great hall’s gallery and held two small rooms with a tiny room between them meant for servants to sleep
in. The fourth floor held two more large rooms and another servant’s room. This was the floor where Kellington stayed.
Jax took her to her enormous bower with its views of the north, south and east. It should have been her father’s chamber but he had graciously given it to his daughter while he had taken up a smaller chamber on the third floor.
The first thing Kellington noticed when she entered the chamber was how cold it seemed. Normally there was a fire burning in the hearth. But the hearth was dark and cold, bringing to mind that Kellington hadn’t seen any female servants about. In fact, she hadn’t seen any women at all. She summoned her courage to ask about them.
“The servants,” she turned to Jax, his enormous bulk standing in the doorway. “Where are all of them?”
He regarded her a moment. “There are no women in my castles.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “You killed them?” a hand suddenly flew to her mouth. “Are… are they on poles like the men out there? My God, am I… will I see them if I look out my windows?”
He could see the horror in her eyes. It did a strange thing to him; it made him tell her the truth.
“They are not on poles,” he said in his deep baritone. “They are in the chapel. I’ve not yet decided what to do with them.”
He was startled when she suddenly rushed at him, dropping to her knees at his feet. “Please, my lord,” it was the one of the only times she had actually addressed him with formal respect. “Please do not harm them. They are my servants; some are my friends. I have grown up with these women. Please do not harm them in any way. I swear I will do anything you ask if you will only show mercy. Please.”
He stared at her, remembering the last time he had seen her like this, begging for her father’s life. He realized that he didn’t like to see her on her knees, submissive and begging. No, he didn’t like it at all. He reached down and pulled her to her feet.
“Get up,” he commanded softly. Then he walked away from her, inspecting the room as he went. “Is there no wine in this chamber?”
Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle Page 58
