Archangel (6 page)

“What are you doing here?” he asked them, shaking the sleep from his mind.

The boys were not particularly well dressed against the cold and Romney looked particularly pale, which concerned him. They all looked a little lost. Gart also noticed something else - without all of the white powder on him, Romney’s ashen face bore a striking resemblance to his long-dead uncle. The mirror image was uncanny. 

“We are sorry we tried to rob you yesterday,” Romney said somberly.

Gart rested his arms on his up-bent knees. “You did not rob me. I did not have anything for you to steal.”

Romney and Orin looked at each other, bewildered. “We tried to rob you,” Romney looked back at Gart. “Mother told us to apologize.”

Gart thought on that a moment, studying Romney. More and more, he could see Erik in the boy, even down to the expressions on the child’s face.  He couldn’t help but think how thrilled Erik would have been with his three nephews.

 “I see,” he said. “Then your apology is accepted.”

Romney cocked his head. “She said that you and Uncle Erik were friends.”

Gart nodded. “We were,” he said, eyeing the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy. “In fact, I was just thinking that you look a good deal like him. He was a great knight.”

“Mother said he died in the Holy Land for Richard’s damn crusade.”

Gart fought of a smile. “She said that?”

Romney nodded solemnly. “She said it was damn foolish and damn stupid.”

Gart bit his lip to keep from smiling. “Your uncle was a great knight on the crusade,” he said. “We fought together for almost two years.”

“How did he die?”

Gart didn’t feel like smiling anymore and the grin faded from his lips. “A Saracen arrow pierced his helm,” he said quietly. “It lodged in his eye and it killed him.”

“Oh,” Romney looked thoughtful, distressed. “Did it hurt?”

“I would imagine so.”

Romney continued to look distressed as Orin and Brendt decided the charger was more worthy of their attention.  Gart saw the boys moving towards it.

“Do not touch him,” he admonished. “He will stomp you.”

The boys drew back in fear, gravitating back towards their eldest brother.  Romney was still looking at Gart.

“Since we are sorry that we robbed you, will you give us money anyway?” he asked.

Gart gazed steadily at the boy. “Why?”

“Because Mother needs a present.”

“Why?”

“She is unhappy.”

Gart’s good humor faded completely. “Why is she unhappy?”

Romney seemed to lose some of his confidence.  He looked at Orin and Brendt, who gazed back at him with wide eyes.  Suddenly, Orin rushed Gart and grabbed the neck of his wrinkled tunic.

“Becausth,” Orin had an extremely lazy tongue and a bad lisp. He yanked at Gart’s tunic and began hitting him with his little fists.  “He did thisth… and thisth… and she cries.”

Gart put his hands on the lad to both steady him and pull him off.  Even Romney moved forward to pull his violent brother away from the enormous knight.  But Gart didn’t miss the gist of what the boy said.  In fact, he began to feel the familiar fury build in his feet again and start to work its way up. 
She will be lucky if he does not beat her senseless for this
. He wondered if de Lohr’s prophetic words had come true.

“Who?” he had Orin by the arms but he was looking at Romney. “Who made your mother cry?”

Romney wouldn’t look at him. He was more interested in pulling Orin away from the man. “Father,” he muttered. “He hits her and she cries.”

The slow build of fury began to gain speed.  Gart could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead and he struggled to control the brewing anger.

“Did he hit her last night?” he asked quietly.

Romney shook his head. “Nay,” he replied, giving Orin a good yank and sending the boy off of Garth and on to his bum. “He did it this morning. She cried and cried.”

The rage reached Gart’s head and his cheeks began to turn red. “Where is your mother now?”

Romney shrugged, either losing interest with the conversation or afraid to say much more. He fidgeted uncomfortably. “In her bed,” he said.  “Father is leaving for London.  Will you give us money now so we can buy her a present?”

Gart stared at the little boy, feeling a great many emotions in his heart that he was unfamiliar with.   He’d spent most of his life allowing only one emotion to infiltrate his mind, and that emotion was fury.  It worked well for his purposes.  The soldiers didn’t call him insane for no reason. They called him that because it was the truth.

But now he was feeling something more than fury. He was feeling great sadness and grief, feeling as if he had failed somehow. When he’d meant to protect Emberley, it seemed as if he’d only gotten her into more trouble. He had no reason to believe that the boys were lying to him and he muttered a silent prayer to Erik, begging the man’s forgiveness for what he had done. It was a struggle to keep a rein on what he was feeling.

“Where is your father?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as angry as he felt.

Romney shrugged. “In the hall,” he said. “I heard him tell people that he was leaving for London today to see the queen.”

Gart stood up from the hay pile, brushing pieces of hay off his arms and back as he went to the bags that were lodged against the wall next to his charger.  The grooms began coming into the barn to feed and water the animals but he ignored them as he began to rummage through his bags.  Although he wanted very much to go charging into the keep, he kept his cool.  He knew that would only make the situation worse.  He had to keep his wits about him.  But he noticed as he dug through his bags, his hands were shaking.

As he rummaged through his possessions, he realized he had company.  He glanced to either side and noticed that Romney was on one side of him while Orin and Brendt were on the other.  They were watching him dig through his satchels with great interest. Surely the knight had many wonderful things in that dark and mysterious bag. Finally, they could stand it no longer.

Romney reached in and grabbed a strip of carefully rolled leather, pulling it out to look at it as Gart took it away.  As he was distracted with Romney, Orin reached in and pulled out a very sharp razor.  Gart snatched it before the boy could injure himself and told the boys not to stick their hands where they did not belong.  As he packed away the razor and rolled up the leather strip, little Brendt literally climbed into the largest of his satchel.

He gleefully tried to bury himself in the clothing that had been carefully rolled up and packed.  Gart removed the boy from his satchel but in doing so, it opened up the door for Orin to plunge head-first into another bag.  Soon, Gart was occupied removing the boys from his bags rather than searching for clean clothes.  He would remove one and another would take his place. He swore there were twelve children and not just three, so fast they moved.  Finally, he stood up and spread his big arms.

“Cease,” he roared softly, jabbing a finger at Brendt, who was back in his satchel and trying to pull one of Gart’s enormous tunics over his head. “You –out. And stay out. All of you stay out.”

Brendt started to weep and Romney turned his big blue eyes to Gart. “He wants the tunic,” he told him.

Gart waved his hands impatiently. “Fine,” he snapped without force, lifting the boy out of his bag. “He can take the tunic.  But you other two – get out and stay out. I do not have time for this foolery.”

Dejected and scolded, Romney and Orin actually began to repack one of Gart’s bags.  He looked at their sad faces and began to feel like an ogre for scolding them. But he didn’t apologize; he helped them replace what they had pulled out.  With both bags repacked, he removed one carefully rolled-up tunic, removed his dirty tunic, put it back in his bag and then sealed everything up.

Meanwhile, Brendt had managed to pull the tunic he stole from Gart over his little blond head and was trying to walk with it.  The tunic was far too long for him and he tripped, laughing as he wallowed in the dirt.  Romney and Orin giggled at him and Gart couldn’t help but crack a smile as the lad tried to get back to his feet without tripping again.  He couldn’t quite seem to manage it, which sent Romney and Orin howling with laughter.  Even Gart was snorting, his gaze moving over the three boys.  They were good boys even if they were mischievous.  Erik would have been proud.  Gart was starting to realize what Erik’s mother and father must have gone through when Erik and Gart were into mayhem.  Now, he understood.

Pulling the fresh tunic over his head, he proceeded to reclaim his armor.  The boys watched with great interest as he pulled on his mail coat, his hauberk, and proceeded with pieces of plate armor that were still fairly rare.  He wore great, well-crafted plate armor on both forearms that bore the crest of de Lohr.  He also had a big piece that fit over his chest and back, hung from his shoulders by big leather straps.  Romney inspected the piece curiously and even tried to lift it, but Gart discouraged him.  It was an expensive piece and too heavy for the boy to play with.   Leaving the chest piece in the stable next to his bags, Gart proceeded out into the dusty courtyard.

Dunster Castle was a massive place built in a long, rectangular configuration which positioned the stables on the far north side, away from the keep but near the kitchens and the well.  There were two blocks of stables and as Gart emerged from the block that extended on the north east wall, he could see that there was great activity from the block lodged against the north wall. 

Two chargers and several other horses had been brought out and were being prepared, as well as a big wagon that was being loaded down with goods. The animals were excited and their breath puffed up in great clouds in the cold morning air.  Gart’s gaze lingered on the group, knowing it must be the baron’s escort to London.   Just as he passed from the stable yards into the big bailey beyond, he caught sight of de Lohr heading towards him.

Gart was surprisingly in control as he and David came together.  Romney, Orin and Brendt were clustered around Gart, following him like puppies, something that didn’t go unnoticed by de Lohr.  He eyed the boys as he came upon Gart.

“Are you summoning your own army?” he asked.

Gart had no idea what he was talking about until he followed David’s gaze and saw the boys standing around him.  He grunted.

“Do not let their small size fool you,” he told him. “They are brave beyond measure.”

David lifted an eyebrow at Romney. “I know,” he said. “They were unafraid to rob me yesterday when I entered the keep.”

Gart lifted an eyebrow at Romney, who looked both fearful and defiant. “Mother only said we had to apologize to you.  She did not say we had to apologize to everyone.”

Gart just shook his head, resigned. “What did you steal from the baron?”

Romney’s brow furrowed deeply. “Not much.”

David fought off a grin. “I gave them a pence each to let me pass,” he said. “I was afraid for my life.”

Gart’s eyes narrowed at Romney. “You will give him back his money. That is not a request.”

Romney was deeply displeased. “It is upstairs.”

“Go and get it.
Now
.”

The boys darted off, scattering like frightened chickens at Gart’s deep and growling tone. They weren’t used to such commands but the instinct for survival bade them to obey it.  David waited until they were well away before looking at Gart with a grin.