Something in her eyes had his interest.
But he didn’t linger on it. Just as he was about to turn away, he caught sight of Lysabel entering the stable yard and running straight into her daughters. Suddenly, he wasn’t so concerned with tending Dewi as Lysabel now filled his field of vision, and he watched as she gently scolded Brencis. He could tell by her body language that she wasn’t happy with her youngest child, and Brencis was starting to weep. She began rubbing her eyes as Lysabel bent over and kissed her on the head.
At that point, Trenton felt as if he should perhaps defend the child or, at the very least, let her mother know that she had been trying to be helpful. Leaving his horse sucking down the oats, he left the stable and headed for the trio in the center of the stable yard.
“Greetings, Lady de Wilde,” he said pleasantly. “It is a fine morning.”
Startled by his appearance, Lysabel turned to him with both surprise and pleasure on her face. “Good morn to you, Trenton,” she said. “You are up very early.”
He smiled at her words, drinking in the sight of her and feeling his heart flutter, just a little. “I have never known anything else,” he said. “There are times that I do not sleep at all and simply greet the morning as the night fades away. In fact, your youngest daughter is up early, too. She was very helpful to me this morning as I tended my horse.”
Lysabel’s attention moved between Brencis and Trenton. “I see,” she said, although she didn’t sound particularly pleased. Finally, she sighed. “Cissy is consumed by horses. She rises early nearly every morning to help with the feedings. I have told her that it is an unseemly task for a young girl, but she does not wish to listen.”
Trenton’s gaze moved to the little girl, still in the grip of her older sister. “There is nothing wrong with loving horses,” he said. “I love them myself and, in fact, they seem to love her. My warhorse took her treat quite calmly, which means he understands she loves him. Horses know these things.”
As Lysabel looked doubtful, Brencis’ face lit up. “They do?” she said. “Does he really know I love him? I do, you know.”
Trenton’s grin broadened. “Of course he knows,” he said. “But I will still tell you not to go near him unless I am around. He is not a pet, my lady. You must be careful around him.”
Brencis nodded eagerly, but he could see that she probably didn’t mean it. As he tried to think of a way to convince her again to never go near the animal without him around, Lysabel gestured towards the manse.
“Take her inside, Cinny,” she said. “Wash her face and hands.”
Cynethryn didn’t move right away; she glanced at Trenton first. “Aren’t you coming, Mama?”
Lysabel nodded. “Of course I am,” she said. “Go, now. I will come in a moment.”
Now, Cynethryn’s gaze moved to Trenton full-on, her blue eyes cold and appraising. Trenton simply looked back at the child, neutrally, until she finally turned away and pulled her younger sister with her. The adults watched the pair walk away before Lysabel turned to Trenton.
“I am sorry if Cissy was a nuisance this morning,” she said. “She loves horses so that I fear she will make a nuisance of herself in any case.”
Trenton wasn’t thinking so much about Brencis as he was about Cynethryn and the threatening way she’d been looking at him. “She did not make a nuisance of herself,” he said. Then, he scratched his neck in a reluctant gesture. “But she did feed my warhorse pears whilst I was not around, and that horse is violent. He has been known to stomp men to death, so you must stress to her not to go near the horse for her own safety.”
Lysabel’s eyes widened. “God’s Bones,” she breathed. “Of course I will tell her. Thank you for warning me.”
He simply nodded, his gaze moving over her in the early morning light. He still couldn’t believe that in all the years he’d known the woman, he’d never realized how beautiful she was.
He’d been a fool.
“No harm done,” he said, pretending to turn back for the stable when what he was really doing was working up the courage to continue the conversation while not seeming too eager about it. “In truth, Brencis reminded me of something. There is a village to the north. I passed through it on my way here.”
Lysabel nodded. “Ilchester.”
“Ilchester,” he repeated. “I was planning on visiting the village and I wondered if you and your daughters would like to come along.”
Lysabel smiled. “That would be lovely,” she said. “Why do you need to visit the village? Mayhap, I can direct you to the proper merchant.”
“I am not quite sure yet.”
It was a cryptic answer, but a truthful one. He had no idea; he simply wanted to do something with Lysabel, and he didn’t want to leave her daughters behind, so he thought a trip into the village would give them a chance to spend time together. Perhaps the older one might look less like she wanted to slit his throat if she came to know him. But Lysabel didn’t have to know that; he watched as she laughed softly at his vague reply.
“In that case, how can I refuse?” she said. Then, she sobered somewhat. “In fact, I was hoping to ask a favor of you today, Trenton.”
“Anything. What is it?”
Now it was her turn to appear reluctant. “In speaking of my father last night, it occurred to me that I have not seen him in some time,” she said. “I have a great urge to visit my parents and I was wondering – if you do not have other plans to attend to – if you could escort us to Wellesbourne Castle for a visit.”
He dipped his head gallantly. “It would be my pleasure, Lady de Wilde,” he said. “When would you like to go?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
He shook his head. “It is not,” he said. “But I should like to form a proper escort. Who is your man in charge of the soldiers at Stretford?”
“His name is Markus de Aston,” she said. “From the Oakhampton de Astons. He has served my husband for several years and, to be truthful, he has no great love for Benoit. However, as I told you, Markus only knows that Benoit has left and nothing more.”
Trenton took that into consideration. “And I will make sure that is all he knows,” he said. “It might be good if you could introduce me to the man and tell him what we are planning so he does not have to take orders from a complete stranger.”
Lysabel agreed. “He surely saw you last night in the feasting hall, as he was present,” she said. “But I will make sure he knows that he is expected to take orders from you.”
With that, she smiled at Trenton and turned to leave the stable yard. He was on her heels, following her, looking forward to the trip to Wellesbourne perhaps more than he should have. It would take at least two or three days to reach Wellesbourne Castle.
Two or three days of being with Lysabel.
He could think of nothing else he’d rather do.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sir Markus de Aston was a high caliber knight, a support for the Sheriff of Ilchester’s position, who had come through Matthew Wellesbourne, Earl of Hereford, by way of the de Nerra family of Erith Castle in Cumbria. From the Somersetshire de Aston family, Markus was tall, muscular, with reddish-blond hair, and rather good-looking, and he had come to Stretford Castle because Wellesbourne had enough knights and Matthew thought he was doing a good turn by sending such an excellent knight to serve his son-in-law.
But he’d sent Markus into a hellish situation, something the young knight had been forced to endure for a few years. But the main issue with Markus was that, having come from Wellesbourne, he was somewhat protective and partial to Lysabel, as Matthew’s daughter. Watching her suffer with a bastard of a husband when there was nothing he could do about it had turned him into a stiff, rather embittered man.
As a man of emotion, the only way to save himself was to harden his natural tendencies. And now, with Trenton’s presence, he didn’t seem any less hard. In fact, the mere suggestion that he go against what he believed Benoit would want hardened him even fur
ther.
He knew what his liege was capable of.
Lysabel had introduced the young knight to Trenton and explained that he would be forming an escort to take her and her daughters to Wellesbourne Castle. That suggestion alone was going against anything Benoit would agree to, and Markus naturally balked.
“We cannot go,” he said flatly. “Lord Benoit will return at any time and he would be displeased to see that his family had gone to Wellesbourne without his permission. I am sorry, but you cannot go, Lady de Wilde.”
In truth, Lysabel had expected a refusal, but not so quickly or so firmly. They had gathered to discuss the request in the same solar where Trenton and Lysabel had their lovely conversation the night before, a solar where all of the riches of the de Wilde coffers were on display. Trenton was standing by the door as Lysabel and Markus stood over near the big table, cluttered with Benoit’s things. It was a stark reminder of the lie that Trenton and Lysabel were perpetuating, leaving things as if the man would be returning any day. Therefore, it was no wonder that Markus rejected the suggestion of traveling to Wellesbourne Castle.
It was not what the lord would want.
Hearing Markus’ staunch denial, Lysabel knew she had to tread carefully. Markus was very much a man who carried out his lord’s wishes, whether or not he agreed with him. But Lysabel also knew that there had been many a time when Markus hadn’t agreed with Benoit, and it was to the man who at times had showed consideration for other factors that she aimed her plea.
“Markus,” she said patiently. “I realize you are only doing what you believe is in my best interest, but you must look at it from my perspective. I’ve not seen my parents in a very long time and Wellesbourne Castles is only a two-day ride from here. While I am waiting for my husband to return, I would like to visit my parents, whom I love very much. They have not seen their granddaughters in almost a year. Would you deny my father his joy in seeing his granddaughters?”
Markus faced her, his manner firm but bordering on angry. “My lady, if Lord Benoit returns home and you are not here, it will not go well for either of us,” he said. He eyed Trenton a moment before lowering his voice. “Must I make this plain in front of a stranger?”
Lysabel didn’t like that Trenton was being called a stranger. “He is not a stranger,” she said. “I told you who he was. I have known him my entire life. You may speak freely in front of him.”
Markus’ gaze settled on the woman. It was clear that he was mulling over her answer. All he knew was that an unfamiliar knight had arrived the previous evening and, today, he was being told this man would be escorting Lord Benoit’s wife and children to Wellesbourne. Nay, he didn’t like that at all.
“My lady, forgive me, but although you may know him, I do not,” he said, trying to be patient. “It is my responsibility to tend to the welfare of you and your children while Lord Benoit is away. I cannot, in good conscience, turn your safety over to a knight I do not know. I am sorry if you do not understand that.”
Lysabel was not only becoming embarrassed, she was becoming angry. “My safety,” she snorted quietly. “You only care for it when my husband is not here. When he is here, you look the other way like everyone else. Your words are empty to me, Markus, so pretend not as if my safety is truly your concern. Your only concern is Benoit’s reaction if he was to return and discover I was gone.”
Markus straightened up, eyeing the woman whose well-aimed tongue had hit him where it hurt – his integrity. It was the very thing he’d wrestled with since the day he assumed his post at Stretford and realized very quickly that he served a man who beat his wife, among other infractions. And it wasn’t an occasional thing; it was frequent, resulting in a woman who was broken and bruised most of the time. When he wasn’t beating her, he was out whoring, or robbing from his vassals, or any number of unsavory things.
Nay, Markus didn’t any of it, but he turned a deaf ear to it because there was nothing he could do. Benoit de Wilde was his liege and his duty was to serve the man. In that respect, he supposed his words to the lady were, indeed, hollow. Hollow in so many things.
But he had no choice.
“Mayhap that is true, my lady,” he said. “If your husband were to discover I let you go to Wellesbourne Castle, then there would be hell to pay for the both of us.”
Lysabel looked at him a moment before turning to Trenton. Standing back in the shadows of the room, he was simply listening to everything going on very carefully. She was looking for some manner of direction in his expression but he gave her none. Frustrated, she was about to do what she swore to him that she wouldn’t do – she wanted Markus’ cooperation but he wasn’t going to give it to her unless he knew the truth, and perhaps not even then.
But she had to try.
“I want you to listen to me, Markus, and listen carefully,” she said. “And I want your oath as a knight that what I tell you will never leave your lips. Will you do this?”
He hesitated a moment. “Aye, my lady.”
“Then swear it.”
“I swear upon my oath that I shall not repeat what you tell me.”
“And I will swear to you that what I tell you is the truth. I will make this vow before God.”
“As you say, my lady.”
With a heavy sigh, she looked at Trenton again, who by now had an expression on his face that suggested concern. He had an idea of what she was going to say, but he didn’t stop her; perhaps he, too, understood that such an illusion couldn’t be kept from those in command. It was clear that Markus’ loyalties were with Benoit regardless of how he personally felt about the man. That being the case, he would continue to be loyal to him and Lysabel would continue to be a prisoner with the ghost of Benoit de Wilde hanging over her, in death as he did in life. As long as Markus believed Benoit would return, he would continue to carry out his duties as his lord would want him to.
Therefore, Trenton kept silent as Lysabel continued.
“The last night that Benoit was seen here at Stretford was a terrible night,” she said quietly. “Do you remember that night, Markus? You must be honest.”
It was clear from Markus’ expression that he did, indeed, remember that evening. It was the first time he lowered his gaze.
“Aye, my lady.”
“You heard me screaming.”
Markus sighed faintly. “Aye, my lady.”
“But you did nothing to help me.” When Markus simply kept his gaze averted, unable to look at her, Lysabel continued. “I know you could not act against Benoit, Markus. I understand that. If anyone was to help me, it had to be me. Twelve years of beatings was too much for me to take. Markus, that night was the last night Benoit beat me or ever shall beat me. He is dead.”
Markus’ head shot up, his eyes widening. “Dead?” he hissed. “What? How?”
Lysabel was quiet for a moment. It was her turn to look away, knowing what she was about to say to the dedicated knight. But she felt strongly that she had to.
It had to be this way.
“The shattered window,” she murmured. “Do you remember it?”
He nodded, looking at her with extreme shock. “Aye, my lady.”
“Benoit was beating me with his fists and… and the window became broken,” she said, knowing she was about to lie about the whole situation because she didn’t want Markus to know that the man standing a few feet away had killed his liege. It was better this way. “I killed Benoit with the broken glass. I wrapped him in a cloak so he would not bleed everywhere, stuffed him into the wardrobe, and told you that he had left and I did not know where he had gone. I killed him because if I did not, I knew he was going to kill me.”
Markus had gone from extreme shock to extreme disbelief. “You… you killed him, my lady?”
“Aye. And I must go to Wellesbourne Castle to discuss this with my father. I need his counsel.”
Markus’ mouth was hanging open and when he realized that, he shut it quickly. He tore his gaze from Lysabel, looking to Trento
n, who was still standing near the door like a massive, silent sentinel. He hadn’t moved a muscle. His gaze moved back to Lysabel.
“Clearly, your friend de Russe knows of this,” he said, struggling with the news. “You told him?”
“I removed the body,” Trenton said. He could no longer remain silent and when both Lysabel and Markus looked at him, he stepped from the shadows. “I removed it and disposed of it. No one will ever find it.”
That part was the truth, but Markus was still wrought with disbelief and the longer he looked at Trenton, the more suspicious he became.
“How did you know about it?” he demanded. “You only arrived yesterday. This cannot be a coincidence.”
The man was smarter than Trenton had given him credit for, but he knew Lysabel had lied to Markus for a reason. He understood. Before he found himself defending himself against a very angry Markus, however, he sought to ease the man. If he couldn’t ease him, then Markus de Aston could very well find himself gone the same way Benoit had gone. Trenton wasn’t beyond disposing of the man simply to keep a secret safe, but more than that, he had to protect Lysabel in this situation.
Things were about to get nasty.
“It is, I assure you,” he said, half-truth, half-lie. “I came to Stretford to visit Lady Lysabel, whom I have known since she was born. She has told me what her husband did to her and it was my pleasure to dispose of his body. Your hands may be tied to help the lady because you serve her husband, but I know no such restraints. The man deserved to die for what he has done to the lady and if you do not believe so, then I invite you to tell me to my face.”
It was a challenge, thrown down between two fairly seasoned knights, only Markus had no idea what Trenton did for a living. So in this instance, it was more like a lion challenging a guard dog. The dog had teeth, and knew how to use them, but the lion had claws that would gut the dog before he even realized what had happened.