Devil's Dominion (56 page)

The great helmed head turned in the direction of the knight who had been doing the interrogation,  now standing before him.   Then he loosened a gauntlet enough to pull it off, raising his visor with an uncovered hand.  The hand was dirty, the nails black with gore.

“I have been told the same,” he replied, his voice bottomless. “We counted only four knights total, including Coleby, so this is the lot of them.”

“Would you finish questioning the prisoners, my lord?”

For the first time, the helmed head turned in their direction.  Kellington felt a physical impact as his eyes, the only thing visible through the helm, focused on her. Then she noticed the strangest thing; the left eye was muddy brown while the right eye, while mostly of the same muddy color, had a huge splash of bright green in it.  The man had two different colored eyes.   It unnerved her almost to the point of panic again.

“I heard some of what you were saying,” the enormous knight said, still focused on Kellington. Then he looked at Keats. “Your explanation was true. You comprehend the rules of engagement and warfare so there will be no misunderstanding.”

Keats didn’t reply; he didn’t have to.  He knew who the man was without explanation and his heart sank. The knight continued into the room, scratching his forehead through the raised visor. Kellington followed him, noticing he passed closely next to her.  She barely came up to his chest.

“I am de Velt,” he said, returning his attention to both Kellington and Keats.  “Pelinom Castle is now mine and you are my prisoners. If you think to plead for your lives, now would be the time.”

“We must plead for our lives?” Kellington blurted. “But why?”

The massive knight looked at her but did not speak.  The second knight, the one in charge of the interrogation, answered.  “You are the enemy, my lady. What else are we to do with you?”

“You do not have to kill us,” she insisted, looking between the men.

“Kelli,” her father hissed sharply.

“Nay, Father,” she waved him off, returning her golden-brown focus to de Velt. “Please, my lord, tell me why you would not spare our lives?  If you were the commander of Pelinom, would you not have defended it also? That does not make us the enemy. It simply makes us the besieged. We were protecting ourselves as is our right.”

De Velt’s gaze lingered on her a moment.  Then he flicked his eyes to the man at his side.

“Take Coleby.”

“No!” Kellington screamed, throwing herself forward.  She tripped on her own feet and ended up falling into de Velt.  With small soft hands, she clutched his grisly mail. “Please, my lord, do not kill my father. I beg of you.  I will do anything you ask, only do not kill my father.  Please.”

Jax gazed down at her impassively.   When he spoke, it was to his men. “Do as I say. Remove the father.”

The tears came, then.  “Please, my lord,” she begged softly. “I have heard that you are a man with no mercy and it would be easy to believe that were I to give credit to the rumors of your cruelty. But I believe there is mercy in every man, my lord, even you. Please show us your mercy. Do not do this horrible thing. My father is an honorable man.  He was only defending his keep.”

Jax wasn’t looking at her; he was watching his men pull Keats to his feet.  But the older knight’s attention was on his distraught daughter.

“Kelli,” he hissed at her. “Enough, lamb chop.  I would have your brave face be the last thing I see as I leave this room.”

Kellington ignored her father, her pleas focused on Jax. “If there is any punishment to be dealt, I will take it. If it will spare my father and our vassals, I will gladly submit. Do what you will with me, but spare the others. I beseech you, my lord.”

Jax’s face remained like stone.  Seeing that the enormous knight was ignoring her, Kellington broke free and raced to her father, throwing herself against him as de Velt’s men pulled him from the room.   Keats tried to dislodge her, but his hands were bound and men were pulling on him, making it difficult.

“No, Father,” she wept, her arms around is left leg. “I will not see you face the blade alone.  They will have to kill me, too.”

“No,” Keats commanded softly, hoping the knights dragging him out would at least give him a moment with his only daughter.   He lifted his bound arms and looped them around her, pulling her into an awkward embrace. “It is not your time to die. You will live and you will be strong. Know that I love you very much, little lamb. You have made me proud.”

Kellington wept uncontrollably.  Her father kissed her as their brief time together was harshly ended. There were many men attempting to separate them and someone grabbed her around her tiny waist and pulled her free.   It was de Velt.             

“Lock the girl in the vault,” he commanded. “Take the father to the bailey and wait for me there.”

He handed her over to the blond knight, who heaved her up over his shoulder.  As he turned around to follow the father and other knights from the room, Kellington’s upside down head found de Velt.

Please spare him, my lord,” she begged. “I will take all of his punishment if you wish, but do not harm him. He is all I have.”

Jax watched his knight haul her away. She wasn’t kicking and fighting as he had seen her do earlier when she had first been captured.  She looked somewhat defeated. But the expression on her face was more powerful than any resistance. He gaze lingered on her a moment before pulling on the loose gauntlet.

He had no time to waste on mercy.  He was, after all, Jax de Velt.

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CHAPTER ONE

Year of Our Lord 1192

The Month of September

Lioncross Abbey Castle

The Welsh Marches

              Lady Dustin Barringdon bit at her full lower lip in concentration. Climbing trees was no easy feat, but climbing trees in a skirt was near impossible.

              Her target was the nest of baby birds high in the old oak tree. Her cat, Caesar, had killed the mama bird earlier that day and now Dustin was determined to take the babies back to Lioncross and raise them.  Her mother, of course, thought she was mad, but she still had to try. After all, if she hadn't spoiled and pampered Caesar then this might never have happened. Caesar had no discipline whatsoever.

              She pushed her blond hair back out of her way for the tenth time; her hands kept snagging on it as she clutched the branch. But as soon as she pushed it away, it was back again and hanging all over her. She usually loved her buttock-length hair, reveled in it, but not today. Long and thick and straight. It glistened and shimmered like a banner of gold silk.

              Her big, almond-shaped eyes watched the nest intently. But not just any eyes, they were of the most amazing shade of gray, like sunlight behind storm clouds. Surrounded by thick dark-blond lashes, they were stunning. With her full rosy lips set in a heart-shaped face, she was an incredible beauty.

              Not that Dustin had any shortage of suitors. The list was long of the young men waiting for a chance to speak with her father upon his return. She truly didn't care one way or the other; men were a nuisance and a bore and she got along very well without them. Nothing was worse that a starry-eyed suitor who mooned over her like a love-sick pup. She had punched many idiots right in the eye in answer to a wink or a suggestive look.

              “Can you reach it yet?” her friend, Rebecca, stood at the base of the tree, apprehensively watching.

              “Not yet,” Dustin called back, irritated at the distraction. “Almost.”

              Just another couple of feet and she would have it. Carefully, carefully, she crept along the branch, hoping it wouldn't give way.

              “Dustin?” Rebecca called urgently.

              Dustin paused in her quest. “What now?”

              “Riders,” Rebecca said with some panic, “coming this way.”

              Dustin lay down on the branch, straining to see the object of her friend's fear. Indeed, up on the rise of the road that led directly under the tree she was on, were incoming riders. A lot of them, from what she could see.

              Her puzzlement grew. Who would be coming to Lioncross this time of day, this lazy afternoon in a long succession of lazy afternoons? The riders passed through a bank of trees and she could see them better.

              She began to catch some of her friend’s fear. There were soldiers, hundreds of them.

              “Rebecca,” she hissed. “Climb the tree. Hurry up.”

              With a shriek, Rebecca clumsily climbed onto the trunk and began slowly making her way up.

              “Who are they?” she gasped.

              Dustin shook her head. “I do not know,” she replied. “The only time I have ever seen that many soldiers was when my father….” She suddenly sat up on the branch. “My
father!
Rebecca, climb down!”

              Rebecca didn’t share Dustin’s excitement. “Why?” she exclaimed.

              Dustin was already scooting back down, crashing into her friend. “It is my father, you ninny. He has returned!”

              Rebecca, reluctantly, began to back down the scratchy oak branch. “How do you know that? Are they flying a banner?”

              Dustin hadn't even looked. She didn't have to. “Who else would it be?” She was so excited she was beginning to shake.

              The army was quickly approaching the ladies’ position. Thunder filled the air, blotting out everything else. Now, they were upon them.  Rebecca was down from the tree but Dustin was still descending.

              Dust from the road swirled about as several large destriers kicked up grit with their massive hooves. They had come up amazingly fast and Dustin found herself paying more attention to the chargers than to what she was doing. As the knights reined their animals to a halt several feet from Rebecca's terrified form, Dustin tried to get a better look at them.

              She was trying very hard to single out her father but her distraction cost her as she lost her grip on the branch. With a scream, she plummeted from the tree about ten feet overhead and landed heavily on her right side.

              Rebecca gasped and dropped to Dustin’s aid. “Dustin! My God, are you all right?”

              Dustin rolled to her back, now oblivious to the knights and men that were watching her. All she knew was that she could not catch her breath and her chest was so hot it would soon explode.  As Rebecca tried to get a look at her, one of the knights dismounted his steed and knelt beside her.

              “Breathe easy,” came a deep, soothing voice. “Where do you hurt?”

              Dustin could not talk. She could only manage to lay there and gasp for air. The knight removed his gauntlets and flipped up the faceplate on his helmet.

              “Take deep breaths,” he told her, putting his plate-sized hand on her abdomen, just below her ribs. “Slowly, slowly. Come now, slow down. That's right.”

              As Dustin’s shock wore off, tears of pain and shock began to roll down her temples and, for the first time, she opened her eyes and focused on the man with the kind voice. She was shocked to see how big and frightening he was. He gazed back at her impassively.

              “Are you hurt?” he asked.

              She shook her head unsteadily. “I do not think so,” she choked out. “I can breathe a little better.”

              He silently extended a hand, carefully pulling her up to sit. The first thing Dustin noticed was how big his hands were as they closed around her own.

              The knight continued to crouch next to her, his gaze still unreadable. Shaking the leaves out of her hair, Dustin gave him the once-over.

              “Who are you?” she demanded softly. “Where is my father?”

              “Who is your father?” he returned, ignoring her first question.

              Dustin had a bad habit of speaking first and thinking later. If these men were her father’s vassals, then they would have known her on sight.

              “Why, Lord Barringdon, of course,” she said, grabbing the ends of her hair and shaking them hard.  “Where is he?”

              For the first time the man showed emotion. His sky-blue eyes widened for a brief second and he abruptly stood up. She tried to look up at him, but he was so tall she had to lay her head back completely and she could not do that because her head was killing her. So she cocked her head at an odd angle, still looking up at him, as she struggled to her feet.

              The man didn’t help her rise, although he probably should have. He just kept staring at her.

              “Lady Dustin Barringdon, I presume?” he asked after a moment.