De Milne was off-balance by the offer, evident in his manner. He was no longer hard as nails; he was edgy in his reply. “Send your army home now and I will consider it.”
“They will leave before sunrise. You will take me to my wife.”
De Milne was still hesitant. “If you enter Elswick, I cannot vouch for your safety, de Nerra. There are many here who seek vengeance for Lord Roger’s death. It is possible that you may not live long enough to see your lady should you venture into Elswick.”
“I will take that chance. My life is in your hands, de Milne. As an honorable knight, I will trust you.”
He began to pull off his weapons, casting them to the ground as Dallas and the others watched in horror. Thomas tried to plead with his son as he continued to remove his armor, his mail, throwing them into a pile on the cold, dark ground. Robert tried to talk to him, as did Davis. They all begged Braxton not to do it, but Braxton wasn’t listening. By the time he was finished, he was clad only in his breeches, boots and damp, dirty tunic. Everything else was on the ground in a pile.
The only person who didn’t seem to be begging him not to do it was Brooke. She watched Braxton as he stripped down to his clothing, standing vulnerable before an entire fortress. As Dallas and Thomas suffered through the throes of anxiety and Braxton’s brothers collective tried to dissuade him, Brooke went over to Braxton.
She was coming to understand his logic where no one else did, this young woman who had grown up so much over the past several weeks. Perhaps it was her love for Dallas that had helped her reach new heights of maturity; perhaps it was because she was coming into her own and developing her own sense of wisdom. Whatever the case, she was the only one who wasn’t fighting Braxton on the matter of his surrender. She understood.
She stood in front of him, smiling faintly at the war lord, the mercenary, who was now at his most vulnerable. He was such a mighty man, someone she respected most in the world. But he was also the gentle man who had made her mother so very happy. Her voice was soft as she spoke.
“Once, Dallas came to my rescue and saved my life,” she murmured. “It was a great sacrifice; I understand that now although I did not at the time. I did not see how close he came to losing his life, too, and that he was willing to do it for a woman he did not even know.”
Braxton gazed at her, suddenly seeing a good deal of Gray in the young woman. The beauty, the gentle wisdom, was the same in both women. Reaching out, he took her hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle, fatherly kiss.
“Sometimes, one must do as he must without thought to personal safety,” he whispered. “This is something I must do.”
Her smile broadened. “I know,” she reached out and touched his rough cheek. “But before you go, please know that although I did know my real father, I did not love him half as much as I love you. He did not teach me half as much as you have or show such concern for me. You are the father I always hoped for, Braxton, and I thank you for that. Without you, I would not know such happiness or such love. You have made all things possible for me and for my mother. That day at the falls of Erith, my life changed forever because of you.”
Braxton gazed at her with tears in his eyes. “I am very proud of you, Brooke,” he murmured, kissing her on the forehead. “I could not love you more if you were my own flesh and blood. Please know that.”
She clutched his hand, smiling up at him. “And I love you also,” she whispered. “I will walk you to the gates.”
He simply nodded, putting a big arm around her shoulders as they began their trek towards the gatehouse of Elswick. Dallas watched them go, tears streaming down his cheeks; a greater self-sacrifice he had never seen, coming from a man who had been like a father to him. Braxton knew full well that he may never make it out of Elswick alive, but that didn’t matter to him. It was more important that he be with Gray, the very center of his world. It was selflessness of the greatest magnitude.
As Braxton and Brooke faded off towards the torch-lit castle, Dallas turned to Thomas.
“My lord,” he said hoarsely. “Your son is the finest man who has ever lived.”
Thomas’ blue-green eyes watched his youngest son in the darkness, drawing closer to the portcullis of Elswick. He understood the depth of the self-sacrifice; they all did. Thomas could barely put his feelings into words but, for Dallas, he tried.
“He is his own man, lad,” he murmured. “What he is has nothing to do with me. But I will tell you this; a prouder father has never walked this earth.”
Dallas glanced at Braxton’s brothers, all in varied degrees of anguish. Robert’s cheeks were wet with tears as he turned away and headed off into the darkness. Eventually, they all turned away and headed off into the darkness. Braxton was doing what he felt he must do and they respected that. But Dallas stood there, waiting until his wife returned to him.
Then they, too, disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
August 1306
Erith Castle
It was just after the nooning meal and Geoff was watching Brooke as she furiously swept the floor, pushing every crumb and every piece of dust into the hearth to be burned. He also knew that, once her husband arrived, she was going to be in a good deal of trouble. Dallas didn’t like her sweeping, especially now.
But Brooke had ignored her husband’s wishes for months. Any time he told her not to do something or to rest, she soundly resisted. Geoff watched her as she stood up from having been bent over the hearth, stretching out her back and exposing her enormous belly. Broom in one hand, she alternately rubbed at her back and her belly as if she couldn’t decide which one to massage first. Spying more crumbs in the corner, she hustled over to the spot and began to sweep furiously.
“Dallas will be here any moment,” he told her. “You had better turn that broom over to me.”
Brooke scowled at him. “I will not,” she said firmly. “You do not sweep as well as I do.”
Fighting off a grin, Geoff shook his head and looked away just as Edgar and Norman entered the keep. Both young men had grown by leaps and bounds over the past year; Norman had grown up and outward, now taller and wider than Dallas was. As a new knight, he was performing admirably. Edgar, too, had shot up and was now nearly as tall as his brother, although he hadn’t filled out quite as much. He, too, was in the midst of his knightly training and doing exceptionally well.
The one thing that hadn’t changed, however, was his relationship with Brooke. They were still like a brother and sister, antagonizing each other, although it was much more discreet now that Dallas was around. As he entered the hall and she realized who it was, she stuck her tongue out at him. He balled a fist and shook it at her.
“Edgar,” she snapped. “Come here and sweep the floor. I should not be doing this.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I am not a house servant,” he sniffed, making his way to the table. “Find someone else to do it.”
“What was that, Edgar?” Dallas was coming in through the hall entry. “Did I hear you refuse my wife?”
Edgar bolted over to Brooke and snatched the broom from her. “Not at all, my lord,” he began to sweep furiously. “I am happy to help Lady Aston.”
Geoff lowered his head lest Edgar and Dallas see him laughing. Dallas reached the table, leaning over to kiss his wife as he removed his heavy gloves.
“If I catch you sweeping again, I am going to blister your backside after this babe is born,” he told her. “You are not to exert yourself like that. Last night, it was cleaning out our chamber and the day before, it was washing linens.”
Brooke gave him the big pouty face. “But I cannot sit still.”
“Why not?”
“Because I cannot. I feel nervous, as if I have to be doing something.”
He lifted a warning eyebrow at her. “Nothing strenuous,” he ordered softly, giving her a swift kiss. “Now, I must meet with my men. Will you please give us some privacy, sweetheart?”
Her po
ut grew. “Why can I not stay? I will behave. I will not say a word.”
He shook his head. “It would not interest you.”
She grabbed his arm. “Please?” she begged. “I have not seen you all day. May I please sit here with you, quiet, quiet, quiet like a little mouse?”
He didn’t want to get in a big battle with her; she was incredibly sensitive these days, raging one minute and weeping the next. Her pregnancy had been extremely easy but for the mood swings, something Dallas lived in fear of. So he nodded with resignation and sat her down on the bench beside him. Just as they were settling in, another figure came in from the bailey.
Niclas brushed the dust off his breeches as he moved towards the banqueting hall. Lady Aston had a great revulsion to dust and dirt and would yell at any man who entered the hall and got her swept floors dirty. Niclas wasn’t used to a clean keep; having served for many years at Black Fell, which was a filthy pit of man stink, he had to retrain himself to behave around a clean and tidy woman.
He made his way to the table, hoping that Lady Aston would screech at him for bringing dust into the hall. He’d come to know her over the past year, since being gifted from Thomas de Nerra to Dallas to help fill the void of Braxton’s absence, and she was a very young woman with a keen sense of humor. Truth was, Niclas was much more content being a mercenary. He had taken to it easily. Now, he served Aston as a member of the mercenary army.
Fortunately for Niclas, Brooke did nothing more than glance at him as he took a seat next to young Edgar. With all of his knights seated at the well-scrubbed table, Dallas settled down to business.
“Now,” he began. “As you know, I received a missive some time ago from Baron Portington in Humberside soliciting our services for a land dispute he is having with his neighbor. I received another missive from him this morning pleading for negotiations. He is offering a great deal of money and I fear I would be remiss to refuse him.”
“How much money?” Niclas wanted to know.
Dallas looked at him. “He is offering us five thousand gold marks simply to come and speak with him,” he replied. “It is a tidy sum. Even if we do not take the job, we will still make money.”
The knights nodded in agreement. “We made a great deal of money off of the dispute between North Cliffe and South Cliffe in the spring,” Norman said. “Who ever heard of two villages going to battle against one another? I believe that is the first time an entire village hired our services.”
Dallas had to agree. “We received enough goods and coin from that venture to start our own country,” he glanced over at his wife, noticing that she was staring at her hands folded over her belly. She seemed distracted and he put his big hand over hers. “And you received more clothing and jewelry than you know what to do with.”
Brooke nodded and he squeezed her hands gently. “What is wrong? You do not seem pleased by it.”
She lifted her head, looking around the table at her husband’s knights. Then, she shrugged and lowered her gaze again.
“You have fought four battles since Braxton and my mother went away,” she couldn’t even bring herself to tell the truth; all she ever said about them is that the ‘went away’. “You do not tell any of these people that Braxton is no longer head of his army. Everyone still thinks he is in charge.”
Dallas’ jovial mood was fading as he squeezed her hand again. “It is better this way,” he said quietly. “I told you that people know Braxton’s name. It commands respect. No one would know Dallas Aston’s name as a terrifying mercenary. It makes better business sense to keep all as it has been, including keeping Braxton’s name, because he may very well return someday. The army is bigger and stronger now than it has ever been, and we continue to fight under Braxton’s banner because it is his army.”
She looked at him. “If the army is bigger and stronger, then why not go back to Elswick and demand to know what became of my mother and Braxton?” she asked; it wasn’t the first time she has asked such a thing. “It has almost been a year and we still do not know.”
It was an extremely delicate subject with Brooke and Dallas put his arm around her, kissing her temple.
“Sweetheart, you know that we have done all we can,” he said softly. “We did as Braxton wanted; we returned to Erith. I have sent a missive to Elswick every week since then asking to know the condition of Braxton and your mother, and every week I get no response. If Braxton is still alive, I do not want to jeopardize anything by riding back to Elswick and demanding answers. They would perceive it as a threat and Braxton, and your mother, could be put in grave danger. All we can do is wait to be contacted by Braxton. You know this.”
She was staring at her belly; as he watched, she frowned terribly and burst into tears.
“I do not want to wait,” she struggled to stand up from the table with her big belly; she was weary and off-balance. “I want you to take the army back to Elswick and beat down the walls if they do not tell you what became of my mother and Braxton.”
Dallas tried to steady her as the knights thought this was their opportunity to retreat. Lady Aston went through this same fit about every other day, and every other day Dallas would gently soothe her. He was trying to do what he thought Braxton would want and his wife disagreed. It made for a touchy situation at times.
“Sweetheart,” Dallas stood up next to her as she tried to pull away. “Do not upset yourself so. I know you do not understand, but you must trust me that I know what is best.”
Brooke moved away from the table, sobbing unhappily. Dallas needed to finished his business with his knights but he needed to soothe her more. With a glance to his men, giving them a brief shake of the head to let them know they would have to discuss the Portington issue at another time, he followed Brooke to the spiral stairs that led to the upstairs chambers. He caught up to her about the time she took the first step, reaching out to pull her into his arms to comfort her. But his efforts were thwarted by a soldier as the man abruptly burst into the keep.
It was a young soldier, one of those gifted to Dallas by Thomas when he had also gifted Niclas. In fact, Thomas had gifted Braxton’s army with another one hundred men, bringing his total army to nearly three hundred. Dallas paused as the soldier entered, spied his commander, and made his way to him.
“My lord,” the soldier tried not to notice when Brooke slapped Dallas’ hands away as she made her way up the stairs. “We have sighted an incoming party about a half a mile away.”
Dallas nodded, not particularly concerned. “Banners?”
“None, my lord.”
“How big?”
“We can make out a wagon and four riders.” As Dallas nodded again and prepared to give an order, the young soldier interrupted him. “I have heard… my lord, that is to say, I have heard some of the more seasoned men say that one of the riders looks like de Nerra.”
Brooke froze on her ascent up the stairs, staring at the soldier, as Dallas’ brow furrowed.
“Which de Nerra?” he asked.
“Sir Braxton, my lord.”
Brooke gave a hoot and quickly came off the stairs. The other knights, who were in the process of vacating the hall when the messenger entered, heard the man’s words also and they began barreling out of the keep. Dallas moved to follow, trying to keep a rein on his excited wife so she wouldn’t overly strain herself or, worse, fall down the stairs in her excitement. He held on to her all the way down the stairs that led from the keep into the bailey, pleading for calm from her even as he bellowed orders to open the gates on the outerwall.
Long since repaired to her former glory, Erith’s great gates yawned open as soldiers cranked the wheel that reeled in the chains. As Dallas had good hold of Brooke, chargers suddenly bolted past them and he looked up to see Norman, Edgar and Geoff thundering out onto the road. Niclas was on foot, standing at the outer gate house as the gates cranked all the way open. He bellowed to the men to take up the slack and secure the chains.
Brooke stood between the inn
er and outer wall with Dallas, whimpering softly as the wagon finally came into view down the long expanse of road. She could clearly see when the three chargers met the wagon and she could see the ensuing commotion, but she couldn’t see who was actually approaching. They were just too far away. Dallas had his arm around her shoulders, holding her fast, his blue eyes riveted to the incoming party. He didn’t want to hold out hope that what the men said was true. But as time passed and as the party grew nearer, he began to recognize one of the mounted men. A slow smile spread across his face, joy and excitement filling his veins. He kissed his wife on the temple as the party drew closer.
“It is him,” he whispered to her. “It is Braxton.”
Brooke burst out into loud sobs. “Where is my mother?”
Dallas’ joy and excitement tempered dramatically; he didn’t have an answer for her and the only one he could come up with was not a pleasing one. He squeezed her gently.
“I do not know, sweetheart,” he said, trying to comfort her. “Perhaps she is in the wagon and we cannot see her.”
Brooke was weeping loudly. Suddenly, she broke away from him and began running down the road towards the wagon. Dallas easily caught her and stopped her from running any further, terrified she was going to injure herself and the child. But Brooke struggled against him, crying and smacking at his hands, as he prevented her from running any further. The wagon drew closer and Braxton, in all his glory, came into focus. It was an amazing and awesome sight.
Without armor, he rode the cream-colored charger with ease, clad in simple breeches, tunic and boots, the same clothing they had last saw him in. He could hear Brooke crying loudly from several dozen yards away and even as Geoff and Norman milled around him, he spurred his charger forward at the sight and sounds of Brooke’s fit. He was on her in an instant, noticing her advanced pregnancy. His eyes widened.
“Brooke?” he drew the charger to a halt, vaulting off the animal as he moved quickly to his daughter. “Sweetheart, what is the matter?”
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