The captive’s eyes opened and he looked at Drake. There was no fear in his eyes, which was impressive, but it only served to fuel Drake’s fury.
“They are my kin,” he replied in yet another obvious answer.
Drake’s patience was gone. He stood up and kicked the man in the belly again, twice, so hard that he managed to kick all of the air out of the man’s lungs. Then he went for the groin, kicking that hard, too. That blow elicited what sounded like a strangled scream from the man. Finished kicking for the moment, Drake bent over him.
“I already know you are Scots and that you are running with your kin,” he said. “If you do not tell me something I do not know, such as your name and how Eustace Maxwell ordered this attack against us, I will kick you so hard that I will drive your bollocks all the way through your body so that you will have to shite them out in order to take a piss. Now, let us try this again – what is your name and why are you here? How did Eustace Maxwell know we were going to be here, enough so that he ordered an attack against us? Well? I will not wait forever. I will give you until the count of five and then I start kicking again.”
The captive was struggling desperately to breathe. It was clear that he couldn’t take any more kicks to the belly or groin, but that didn’t matter to Drake in the least. Drake started counting and by the time he got to four, the captive gasped.
“Davey,” he grunted. “My name is Davey.”
Drake crossed his big arms expectantly. “What is your surname, Davey?”
“Maxwell.”
Drake glanced at de Wolfe now that the answers they sought seemed to be coming. “Is Eustace your uncle?”
Davey shook his head, saliva and blood running out of his mouth and onto the frozen ground. “A cousin of my father’s,” he said, barely audible.
“Who is your father?”
Davey hesitated and Drake lifted his boot. Davey caught the movement and spoke quickly. “Hamish Maxwell.”
Drake lowered his boot. “How did Eustace Maxwell know my army was going to be here?” he asked. “Has someone been following my army and reporting back to him? Tell me now or my foot starts swinging.”
Davey couldn’t take anymore kicks. He was terrified now that a wrong word or a delay was going to send the big knight’s boot into his manhood again. He wasn’t a soldier. He’d never trained as one. He was a farmer, turned into a spy by his father. This kind of madness was foreign and frightening to him. He began to talk.
“He received word from my father that the de Winter army was moving north,” he said. “I carried the message from my father to Eustace.”
Drake’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “How did your father know the de Winter army was moving north?”
Davey knew he was about to incriminate his father but he was frightened and in pain. He wanted to save his life if he could. His red-rimmed eyes opened to look at Drake.
“If I tell you, will you let me go?” he asked.
Drake cocked his head. “Why should I?”
“Because I can tell you how my father knew about your army,” he said, his voice raspy. “If you kick me to death, you will never know.”
He had a point. Drake pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Very well,” he said. “If you tell me the truth, all of it, I will let you go.”
“Swear it?”
“I told you I would. Do you doubt my word?”
Davey hadn’t wanted to offend the big knight; he simply wanted to guarantee a way out of this situation. Either way, he had no choice. He had to tell the man if he wanted to save his privates and his life.
“My father has a cousin in France who was once married to Eustace’s uncle,” he said. “The woman’s husband was killed by Edward and she has a vendetta against him. She has worked tirelessly and spent much money to gain information to use against Edward. She recently married her granddaughter to an English knight and it is through her granddaughter she received information about the de Winter army. She sent my father a missive about it and my father sent me to tell Eustace. That is all I know, I swear it. If my father knew more, he did not tell me.”
Drake stared at him, absorbing the information. He didn’t even ask any further questions for the moment. He simply stood there and stared at him. After the day he’d had, compounded by the death of Dallan, his mind was slow to process what he was being told. But as Davey spoke, the words in the particular order he arranged them sounded very familiar to Drake. In fact, too familiar. It sounded very much like what had happened to him recently, marrying the granddaughter of a Frenchwoman. Drake’s mind churned, grasping for bits of information, struggling to remember something Elizaveta had told him once. Her mother was born in Scotland because Mabelle had married a Maxwell.
… a Maxwell!
The ground began to rock beneath Drake’s feet and he stood up, unsteadily, every emotion of horror and grief he could possibly feel pouring over him. He simply couldn’t believe it; he couldn’t believe any of it. But this captive, this man who had no idea who he was, had just spelled out something so horrific, so deeply devastating, that Drake was reeling. He couldn’t stay on an even keel.
“A… a Frenchwoman?” he repeated, sounding breathless. “Her… her granddaughter married an English knight?”
Davey nodded. “Aye,” he replied. “The knight must serve de Winter because all of the information my father received was about the de Winter army and joining Edward in Hexham.”
Drake lost it. Whirling around, he plowed into the tree behind him with his shoulder and vomited the contents of his belly out all over the frozen ground. Gripping the tree, he continued to heave until there was nothing left, ending up on his knees.
De Wolfe came up behind him, deeply concerned. “Drake?” he asked, a hand on the man’s back. “What is the matter, man? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”
Drake couldn’t even speak. He was beyond rational thought. Struggling to regain his composure, he pushed himself off the tree even as de Wolfe held on to him, concerned about the man’s behavior. Drake staggered back over to the captive on the ground.
“What…,” he started, swallowed hard, and started again. “The name of this woman who gave your father the information. What is her name?”
Davey had no idea why the big knight suddenly appeared so unsteady. In fact, the man looked ghastly. “Mabelle,” he replied quietly.
“You are certain?”
Davey nodded as much as he was able. “I have heard her name before,” he said. “My father has received information from her before.”
Drake didn’t need to hear any more because he frankly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Shocking wasn’t the word he had in mind; horrifically shattering was more like it. Everything in his world on this day had been shattered and all that was left was the shell of a man who used to have confidence in his path in life. He used to be supremely confident in his abilities as a knight and with the event of a wife, he had been looking forward to a life filled with her beauty and their children. He had thrown his entire being into that confidence, positive that nothing could come between him and his hopes and dreams. But something had shattered that confidence, an enemy that had destroyed him more surely than if she had rammed a broadsword down his throat.
The enemy was Elizaveta.
He was betrayed.
Dear God, but she had been clever when she lured him into a false sense of security with her flirtatious ways and her lies. She had deceived him every minute of every day, a sorceress who had cast a spell upon him and tricked him into believing that she may have felt something for him. That she was happy to be married to him. Aye, she was happy… happy because he had so unguardedly fallen for her charms. He had fallen for her. And with a besotted husband, it has been so very easy for her to gain information for her grandmother’s cause. Even as he repeated it over and over in his mind, he could still hardly believe it. But the evidence before him was undeniable.
The missive to her mother.
The re
collection hit him like a battering ram. Drake thought back to recall any point in time when Elizaveta could have sent information to her grandmother and the one and only glaring opportunity had been right before they’d left Spexhall. She had asked to send a missive to her mother and he had agreed. He had even summoned the messenger and handed the rider the missive personally.
Dear God…
He had sealed his brother’s death when he did it.
Drake wanted to blame Elizaveta. He wanted to blame her badly for Dallan’s death, but he couldn’t seem to do it because it was he who had handed over the missive to the rider. He should have read the missive but, at the time, he saw no reason to. He hadn’t wanted to pry in any business between his wife and her mother, but in hindsight, he should have. He should have read it because then he would have seen what she had really been writing her mother – plans of Edward’s movements straight from the lips of de Wolfe and de Winter. It had been prime information and Mabelle, that French bitch, had used it. Nay, Drake couldn’t be angry at Elizaveta.
He could only manage to be angry with himself.
Without another word, Drake turned away from Davey and from de Wolfe and headed off into the forest, losing himself in the trees. De Wolfe called after him a few times but Drake didn’t respond. He simply kept walking.
He didn’t return to camp until dawn the next day, looking as if he had battled all night with the Devil. When de Wolfe took the army, and the Scottish prisoners including Davey, north to Hexham, Drake and Devon took Dallan’s body, on one of the provision wagons driven by two de Winter soldiers, southward for home. On the silent move south, before de Wolfe and the army were even out of view, Drake had already decided one thing. He’d spent all night agonizing over it, coming to one firm conclusion.
This is the last time the Scots will ever receive any information from Mabelle Maxwell.
Their flow of information would be dammed and Eustace Maxwell would have to get his intelligence from another source.
Drake would make sure of it.
This was the end.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Norwich Castle
Norfolk
First of December
“Easy, my darling, easy,” Devereux said softly. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
Elizaveta was trying to breathe but the latest round of dry heaves had her gasping for air. It was always that way in the evening time these days, a pregnancy sickness that saw her vomiting most of the evening and into the morning. During the day, after Devereux forced food into her belly, she was usually fine. It was in the evening when the sickness struck, like now.
“I… I am trying,” Elizaveta said, lying flat on her back, her hand to her mouth. “God’s Bones… this seems to become worse and worse as the days go on.”
Devereux smiled at her daughter-in-law, glancing at her other daughter-in-law who was standing anxiously over her left shoulder. “It will go away, eventually,” Devereux said soothingly. “I did not have the sickness with any of my sons but with Katharine, I was sick constantly. Mayhap that means you are having a girl.”
Elizaveta couldn’t even respond. At this point, she was so miserable that she did not care. Standing behind Devereux, Daniella spoke.
“I am so sorry that you feel so terribly, Vee-Vee,” she said sincerely. “I feel so guilty that I feel fine. All I do is eat!”
Devereux frowned at Daniella, who had no idea why Devereux was frowning at her until Elizaveta began to dry heave again, rolling onto her side to try and stop the reflex. “Do not…,” she gasped, “speak of eating, Dannie! If I could stand up, I would kill you!”
As it was, Devereux swatted Daniella on the behind, causing the woman to yelp. “Dannie, please hand me that wet rag and bowl,” she said. “And then you will go down to the hall and tell Davyss that I will be down presently when I have comforted Elizaveta.”
Daniella dutifully handed Devereux the bowl of clean rosewater and a cloth because Devereux would have Elizaveta suck on the rag to try and get some moisture into her body. Too much vomiting made her sicker and lethargic, so Devereux was trying to give the woman fluids, rosewater or watered wine, as the physic had instructed.
As Devereux put the wet cloth to Elizaveta’s lips, Daniella left the chamber, rubbing her bum, on her way to the hall to carry out her mother-in-law’s orders. The door shut softly behind her but neither Elizaveta nor Devereux noticed. Elizaveta was in the process of pushing away anything that came near her mouth.
“Please,” she begged Devereux softly. “Let me… rest a moment. Please.”
Devereux didn’t force her. She set the rag and bowl on the side table, putting a soothing hand on Elizaveta’s head. “Very well,” she said softly. “I will go down to the hall but I will return shortly with something to tempt you. I know you do not feel like eating but you must put something in your belly. We must feed the child growing inside of you.”
Elizaveta simply nodded, closing her eyes as Devereux kissed her forehead and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. The family living quarters of Norwich Castle were on the second and third floors of the keep, reached by two spiral staircases built into the thickness of the walls, and Devereux made her way down to the lower level where there was a meal going on in the two adjoining halls. Norwich was where all of her children had been born and Devereux smiled when she thought of her grandchildren being born here as well. The castle, manned by her husband as garrison for the crown and also serving as a gaol, was a massive and important complex, the largest in East Anglia, but to her, it was home.
I had been almost two months exactly since Drake, Devon, Dallan, and the de Winter army had left Thetford on their journey north to rendezvous with Edward before his march into Scotland. The weather at Norwich had been cold and gloomy but without the snow and terrible weather that had plagued most of the country. That was often the case in Norwich, which seemed to have a different weather pattern than the country at times, tucked up near the coast as it was. Still, it was quite cold and the rain could be harsh, but Devereux was thankful that the weather hadn’t been too terrible. It had afforded her the opportunity to do the things she had planned to do with her daughters-in-law.
A trip to London had taken place right after Drake and Devon and the rest of them had departed. Devereux and Davyss had taken Elizaveta and Daniella to London, spending a few days at the de Winter manse of Wintercroft before heading into the city and spending money on the ladies. Both women were lavished with fine gowns, robes, and perfumes simply because Devereux dictated that they should. Davyss wasn’t one to easily part with his money so for him, it had been a somewhat painful experience.
But it had been a bonding one, a trip that saw all of them come to know each other better. Elizaveta was very intelligent and kind, and she had a wicked sense of humor that was much like Drake’s, so Devereux and Davyss were coming to think that she was, indeed, a perfect match for their son. She could stand up to the man. After purchasing two trunks full of booty in London, the family proceeded back to Wintercroft and then returned to Norwich before the first heavy rains of the season hit.
After the first nasty rainstorm, travel was somewhat prohibitive so the family hunkered down at Norwich Castle, a beast of a structure, with Denys de Winter in charge of his father’s army while his brothers were away. Elizaveta and Denys came to know one another, too, and both discovered they had a tremendous love of sweets, which they would fight over at supper until Devereux would have to cast the deciding vote on who would get the last cake or sweet. It was always Elizaveta, who would then split it in half and share it with Denys. With half of the family away on Edward’s Scots campaign, those left behind got along famously.
But that had been before both Elizaveta and Daniella discovered they were expecting children. Daniella felt quite well but Elizaveta had been hit hard by pregnancy sickness. The days were growing shorter, the nights longer, and Elizaveta spent much of the evening and nights in bed while Devereux tended her.
Therefore, incidents like tonight had become more the norm with Elizaveta ill. As Devereux made her way down the stairs to the dual halls on the entry level, she glanced out one of the narrow lancet windows that lined the stairwell, seeing the gloomy night beyond, thinking on her pregnant daughters-in-law, and wondering how her other three sons were coming along.
Devereux hadn’t heard from them since they’d left Thetford back in October, but that wasn’t unusual. Drake usually didn’t send missives to his parents on a regular basis when he was away but Devereux had hoped, with a wife now to think about, he would at least try to write to them more often to ease their minds. As soon as she received his first missive, Devereux intended to reply to Drake to let him know he was soon to be a father. She wished she could see his face when he discovered his wife was with child. She knew the man would be thrilled. Devon, too; he was a little more unguarded in his emotions and she could only imagine his unbridled joy. It made her smile to think of her sons’ reactions to the next phase in their lives with children now to consider.
Inside the hall downstairs as Devereux entered, Davyss was sitting across the soldier’s hall, or the bigger hall, with a few of his men. He saw his wife emerge from the stairwell and head in the direction of the kitchen. Excusing himself from his men, he headed in her direction. He knew she had been with Elizaveta, who was ill most of the time these days, although Daniella had come downstairs earlier and was now sitting with Denys, gorging herself on the boiled beef provided for supper.
The connected halls were warm this night, courtesy of two enormous hearths complete with explosive fires, and the smell about the room was one of smoke and dogs and hints of the beef they were eating. It was almost cloyingly warm because most of Norwich’s men were crowded into the two halls, making it very close and moist even, as the unlucky men who had drawn watch this night were outside manning their chilly posts.
Big bonfires burned in the upper and lower baileys of Norwich to help ward off the cold, and torches and men with dogs lined the walls, being vigilant over the countryside. After what Drake had told his father about the de Mandevilles, Davyss wasn’t taking any chances. Norwich was bottled up most of the time and his soldiers were at the ready. He had to make sure his family, and his men, remained safe.