She was buried the next day in the vault of her ancestors, finally, as she had always asserted and demanded, among her own blue-blooded peerage.
The peerage of the dead.
*
Black Fell Castle, Northumberland
“My son would not have kidnapped women and absconded with a fortress,” the man who spoke the words used a deadly tone. “Who spreads these lies?”
A knight bearing the red and blue shield of the Earls of Northumberland stood in the great hall of Black Fell Castle, delivering a message from his liege, Yves de Vesci. He tried not to appear nervous but, truth be told, everyone was always a bit apprehensive upon entering Black Fell. The place was full of the dark ambiance that is given to those whose life and vocation is geared towards battle.
Sir Thomas de Nerra came from a long line of aggressive soldiers; powerful but not brutal, brave but not reckless. Still, the man was more of a warrior than most, seasoned and bred along with the rest of the Lords of Gilderdale. The sons that stood with him were of the same mold; powerful, cunning, calculating and cold.
But the messenger held his ground. “My liege has received this information from Thirlwall Castle, seat of Sir Edmund Gray.”
“And how would he know this?”
“Because his father’s sister, the Lady Constance Gray de Montfort, has returned to Thirlwall with this information. Sir Edmund is most concerned for his cousin and her family.”
Thomas de Nerra gazed at the man with calculating blue-green eyes. Most of his sons resembled him to fault, the exception being his eldest, Robert. Robert had the dark of his mother. Even now, Robert stood beside his father, his blue-green eyes hard as he listened to the tale involving his youngest brother. Before his father could reply, he interjected his thoughts.
“There must be a logical explanation for what Lady de Montfort has said,” he replied firmly. “My brother is not the sort to go around confiscating castles and abducting women.”
The messenger’s eyes flicked to him. “Be that as it may, the earl is concerned enough that he asks you to ride to Erith Castle and remove your son. This he demands on behalf of the Grays of Northumberland.”
“God’s Beard,” the second eldest brother, a big man with graying blond hair named Davis, cursed lowly. “Braxton is a grown man and, I might add, a powerful knight in his own right. Do you think we can simply march to Erith and scold him like a child? That is ridiculous.”
Robert shook his head in agreement, glaring at the messenger as he turned away. Not to be left out, the third de Nerra son, Steven, made his presence known. He was a massive, hairy beast of a man with shaggy gray hair and hands the size of trenchers. He was also the most volatile, which is why Davis grabbed the man before he could throw the messenger into a head lock.
“Braxton would not do what your lord fears,” he snarled. “He is a man of honor.”
“He is a well-known mercenary,” the messenger unwisely countered. “He will do what is necessary if there is profit involved. Lord de Vesci is simply concerned for the safety of Lady Constance’s daughter and all of you, as vassals of de Vesci, are obliged to obey his command.”
There was truth in the statement that none of them could refute. Thomas sighed heavily, thoughtfully, averting his gaze as he scratched his neck and generally fidgeted about as his sons grumbled and postured. He rose from the bench upon which he was seated, stretching his muscled legs and thinking of the son he’d not seen in years. He hadn’t even heard of him in nearly as long until one of his knights, Niclas de Aughton, returned from mission to Gloucester. He had run across Braxton and his army and told quite a different tale than the one being carried by de Vesci’s knight. Thomas sent a soldier for de Aughton before returning his attention to the messenger.
“One of my knights has recently seen Braxton,” he said. “I have sent for him and we shall clear this up once and for all.”
The messenger didn’t say any more; he was only the messenger, after all, and not qualified to argue the point. So he stood politely while de Nerra’s sons conferred between them, big men with big reputations. They were growing older now and their own sons were beginning to take on the family mantle; Robert had two boys while Steven had one, young men that were even now outside with the army. Thomas went back to the bench and lowered his body heavily, sitting near the fire because his joints ached.
The messenger’s gaze moved from the whispering sons to the pensive father, brushing over the features of the massive two-story hall that smelled like dogs and men. He’d never actually been to Black Fell Castle but he could see why it was considered a foreboding stronghold; it reeked of war. He could feel it, and see it, everywhere. It was a dark place of stone, smoke and power.
De Aughton wasn’t long in coming. The big black knight with eyes of obsidian entered the smoky great hall from the bailey outside, approaching Thomas with pounding steps. Before Thomas could speak, Steven leapt out to intercept him.
“This fool has come to tell us that Braxton has taken Erith Castle hostage,” he barked. “You have recently seen my brother. Is this true?”
Niclas had to step aside or risk being run over by Steven in the man’s anger. His dark brow furrowed as he looked from the enraged de Nerra brothers to the de Vesci messenger several feet away. Puzzled, he focused on the messenger.
“Who told you this?” he demanded.
The messenger was outnumbered but he held his ground. Each successive man at Black Fell seemed to be bigger and angrier than the last. “Lady Constance Gray de Montfort,” he replied evenly. “She has come to my lord de Vesci for assistance. She claims that Braxton de Nerra has confiscated Erith and is holding her daughter, the Lady Gray, hostage.”
Niclas stared at the man a moment, pondering his words, before clearing his throat softly. He turned to Thomas and the de Nerra brothers who were clearly looking for an answer. “Braxton de Nerra is married to the Lady Gray,” he explained. “If she is a hostage, she is the most willing hostage I have ever seen.”
Thomas bolted off the bench, his blue-green eyes wide. “What’s this you say?” he barked. “Braxton has taken a wife?”
Niclas nodded, a faint smile coming to his lips. “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. In fact, I…,” he caught himself before he could finish the story, which would not go well in his favor. “Suffice it to say that he has married her and when last I saw them, they were very happy.”
Robert was grinning like a fool while Davis and Steven simply appeared stunned. Only Thomas seemed capable of speaking in light of this shocking news. “Why did you not tell me my son had taken a wife before now?” he demanded.
“Because it was not my place, my lord. That news should come from your son.”
Thomas growled and made a face, but he understood. He waved his hands dramatically. “But what about Erith Castle?” he persisted.
Niclas shook his head. “I do not know anything about Erith Castle, my lord.”
“Nothing at all? Braxton did not mention it to you?”
“Nay, my lord. It was never discussed.”
Thomas’ gaze lingered on the big knight a moment longer before turning to his sons. They all gazed back at him with varied degrees of confusion and delight. Thomas scratched his oily head again before flipping a dirty hand at the three men.
“Mount the army,” he ordered. “We ride for Erith to clear up this mess before Braxton gets himself into trouble.”
Steven and Davis were on the move, racing from the great hall and calling to the sergeants. Robert, however, remained behind. He went to his father and clapped the man on the shoulder.
“You make excuses,” he teased quietly. “Your true motivation in riding to Erith is to meet Braxton’s wife. You want to see how well he did for himself.”
Thomas growled at him and stomped away, leaving Robert laughing silently. But Niclas was still standing there and Robert went to him, eyeing the man thoughtfully. He sobered.
“Tell me the truth,” he lower
ed his voice. “What was Braxton doing when you last saw him? Did he mention anything about Erith Castle?”
Niclas shook his head. “I met your brother at a tournament in Milnthorpe,” he said. “He competed briefly until one of his men was gravely injured. When last I saw him, he and his wife were camped outside of Milnthorpe. That is all I know, my lord.”
Robert’s eyebrows lifted. “Compete, did he? How did he fare?”
“Only one bout. He unseated his opponent and gained his horse.”
Robert grinned. “That sounds like my brother,” he agreed. “And his wife; is she truly lovely?”
“As a new spring morning, my lord.”
“But there was no hint that she might have been married to him against her will?”
“Absolutely not. It was clear to me that she adored him.” Unfortunately for me.
Robert nodded, digesting the information. “And my brother is well these days?”
“Well and rich. He travels like a prince.”
Robert’s grin was back; he had a special fondness for Braxton, the only brother out of the four who had enough drive and ambition to create his own life away from Black Fell. The man had done exceedingly well for himself over the years, something that Robert was proud of. He admired Braxton for not following the path that the rest of the family chose. Braxton was, and always had been, his own man.
“I miss my brother,” he muttered in reflection.
Niclas smiled faintly. “He said the same thing about you.”
Robert glanced at him, his grin broadening. Then he looked at his hands, disfigured by the disease that twisted and enlarged his joints. He flexed them, feeling the pain that was his daily companion. He could hardly hold a cup these days much less a sword, but he had once been a very skilled knight. He missed those days.
“It is not my normal routine to ride with the army,” he said softly. “But to see Braxton, I would ride to the ends of the earth. Have my charger saddled and waiting.”
Niclas nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
“And then you will ride ahead and tell Braxton that we are coming.”
“By your command, my lord.”
The big black knight quit the hall, leaving Robert and the messenger as the only two occupants. Still flexing his fingers, Robert turned to the de Vesci messenger.
“You will return to the earl and tell him that Gilderdale rides for Erith,” he said. “Have no doubt we shall seek the truth of the situation, whatever it may be. Where is Erith, anyway?”
“West of the town of Levens in Cumbria, I am told.”
“Very well. Go, then; do as you are told.”
The messenger saluted sharply and left. Robert watched the man go, his mind moving to the adventure ahead. The messenger was correct; Braxton was a well-known mercenary and mercenaries were only out for profit. He wondered if Braxton had married the lady of Erith to gain wealth or if there was some other reason. At this point, he was as confused as the rest of them. But he fully intended to know the truth.
*
For five weeks, Erith was a fortress under construction. There was a frenzied pace about it and the work went on day and night. Dallas and Braxton took turns overseeing the rebuilding, hardly sleeping a few hours in between shifts; they were both master builders, precise in their measurements and plans. Braxton could do the most complicated arithmetic in his head, which translated into stronger walls and a stronger outer gatehouse. The man was a talented architect.
They had sent the bodies of Roger and William de Clare back to Roger’s stronghold, Elswick Castle. Braxton and Dallas knew, without question, that the death of the earl’s cousin would not be well met but there wasn’t much they could do about it. The wheels were in motion and they knew that sooner or later Gloucester would seek revenge. Their best hope for protection was to be prepared.
The past few weeks saw other changes as well. Braxton and Dallas now worked more as a team rather than a commander and his subordinate. The marriage of Dallas to Brooke had created a familial relationship and Braxton relaxed his usual strict standards of conduct with the man, although it was still very clear who was in charge. Still, Dallas seemed to be growing as both a knight and a man. Something about Brooke brought out another side of him and Braxton watched the transformation with approval; Dallas had always been obedient, wise and talented, but now he had added something deeper to the mix. He smiled more, seemed more apt to go the extra effort in all things; the men, a word of approval, assistance with rebuilding his fortress. Dallas was moving from obedient knight into a man of depth and character.
And then there was Brooke; since the day she had chased Edgar out onto the main road, there hadn’t been a harsh word between her and the young squire. In fact, she had nearly stopped paying attention to him altogether because her focus was fully on her new husband. She had always been rather careful with her appearance, at least as careful as their meager surroundings would allow, but now she was positively intense about how she looked. Dallas would praise her for the way she arranged her hair or the loveliness of her eyes, which only seemed to make her more conscious of how she looked. It was evident that she wanted to please her husband, and please she did. In spite of any reservation Dallas might have had in the beginning, he was completely smitten with the lovely young lady. The beautiful wild rose was becoming a gorgeous, cultivated one.
During this time of building and romance, there were other things going on as well.; Geoff, for instance, was healing admirably from his brush with death and was trying his best to resume a normal routine. Braxton hadn’t gone so far as to order Geoff to remain in bed but he had spent a good deal of time trying to reason with him. Geoff managed to stay down for another day and night before rising early one morning and making his way, however slowly, to the inner bailey. Braxton knew that there was no keeping the man down, so he gave him a job supervising the rebuild of the inner portcullis, the one so badly damaged by Garber’s trebuchet practice. Geoff supervised the builders, making him feel useful without actually exerting himself.
Gray was also on the mend from her run-in with her mother and as the days passed, she watched Brooke transform from a silly young girl into a responsible young woman. They hadn’t spoken of the day when Constance had been forcibly escorted from the keep and, as time passed and their new lives unfolded, it was easier to forget about the vicious old lady and get on with their lives.
Even now as Gray sat in the great hall after the morning meal, she watched Brooke rush around to make sure the nooning meal was in full preparation. It took foresight and thought, which Brooke was trying very hard to do. Even the keep itself was transforming under her hand and Braxton’s money. As a mother, Gray found herself moved by the sight of her daughter growing up and thanking God that Constance was no longer around to poison her. They were happier than they had ever been.
As Gray sat and watched Brooke direct some servants to clear out the stale rushes, big arms suddenly embraced her from behind. Braxton gently enfolded his wife into his arms, kissing the side of her head and being mindful of her sore ribs. Gray smiled, placing a warm palm against his stubbled cheek as he kissed her.
“Greetings, wife,” he purred into her ear, kissing her again. “I am pleased to see that you are learning to be a lady of leisure.”
She gestured at Brooke, helping one of the old servants with a particularly large branch. “I was watching my daughter,” she said. Then she sighed. “My little girl seems to have grown up all in the past few days and I am not quite sure how I feel about it.”
He sat down on the bench next to her, holding her close and watching Brooke move about quite capably.
“Odd,” he said softly. “I have been thinking the same thing about Dallas. I have known the man since he was twenty years and one, when he was newly knighted, and although he has always proven himself extremely capable and responsible, our lovely young daughter has done something to him. He’s a changed man.”
Gray turned to look at him, her amber eye
s soft. “Our daughter?”
His blue-green eyes twinkled. “She belongs to me, as do you,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “She was mine the moment I married you.”
She smiled at him, touching his handsome face. “You are as compassionate as you are generous. There are not many men who would happily accept two destitute women.”
“They are fools.”
She laughed softly and kissed him, to which he readily responded. When he pulled away, it was to cup her face in his enormous hands and study her fine features intently.
“I have been thinking something else along those lines,” he murmured.
“What is that?”
“I would like to make Brooke and Dallas my heirs.”
Gray nodded in serious consideration. “Although I do not question your judgment, would you not want for a child born of your blood to be your heir?”
He shrugged. “I do not have any children of my blood.”
“Not yet,” she smiled when he looked rather surprised at her. “I am not beyond my childbearing years, Braxton. It is entirely possible that you and I will be blessed in the future.”
He just stared at her. “Although I have always hoped…,” he trailed off, not sure what to say. “The thought of bearing another child does not distress you?”
Her smile broadened. “Of course not. Why should it?”
He half-shrugged, half-scratched his head, suddenly looking nervous. “You had Brooke at such a young age,” he stumbled through his words. “You are now… well, were very young then.”
“Aye, I was,” she laughed softly. “ ’Tis well enough for you to mention my current age. It does not offend me. I am not exactly a young woman anymore, but I am certainly not too old to bear a child.”
He snorted, relieved that she wasn’t offended by what could have been slander against her age. “Nay, you are not.”