Lords of Darkness and Shadow (20 page)

“Come in,” she said, waving them in. Then she noticed the trunk they were carrying. “For me? Lovely! I have all of these wonderful things to pack.”

The knights set the tightly-woven reed trunk down, tipping it over and shaking out some of the leaves and roots left over from the vegetables that had been stored in it.

“It is all we could find at such short notice, my lady,” Brennan said. “It will be serviceable for now, but the duke wishes to purchase you finer trunks when we reach a larger town.  We should find more merchants with more of a variety of wares.”

Ellowyn was already carefully putting things into the wicker trunk. “This will be fine,” she told them. “Where is de Russe?”

“Your husband is outside tending to some business,” Alex replied. “He has asked us to escort you outside when you are ready.”

She grinned as she rolled up the blue shift and surcoat she had worn the day before. “I meant to ask where my husband is,” she said as she turned for the trunk and tucked the garments in. “I have not yet gotten used to calling him that.”

“And we have not gotten used to calling you his wife,” Alex countered, returning her smile.

“It all seems so new and strange, doesn’t it?” Ellowyn asked.

Both Alex and Brennan nodded, inevitably thinking back to the first day they met her.  A marriage between their liege and the spitfire of a woman at that time seemed the most unlikely of things. Just like Brandt and Ellowyn, the knights of the duke’s command were still getting used to the idea, too.

“It does, indeed,” Alex replied quietly.

The sack of dried grass was the last thing to be packed in the wicker basket and Brennan secured the lid.  Slinging the trunk over one big shoulder, he took it out of the room as Alex and Ellowyn followed. 

The corridor outside was dim as Alex escorted Ellowyn to the stairs. The soldiers that had been guarding the hall were leading the way down the steps into the main room, which was dark and cold at this hour.  The innkeeper and his employees were moving around, preparing for the coming day, and smells were wafting from the kitchen that was tucked back into one corner of the inn.  Ellowyn most definitely smelled bread and she turned a hungry eye in the direction of the kitchen.

Alex must have sensed her famished state, or at least had already anticipated it, because he was already snapping commands at the kitchen staff. One of the women who had helped with Ellowyn’s bath came forth with a basket containing what Ellowyn thought were small loaves of bread. She found out she was very wrong.

“You can take this with you, my lady,” the woman handed her the basket, pointing at the contents. “These are little loaves of puffed cakes.  I have put butter and honey on them for you. Eat them while they are warm.”

Ellowyn was very interested. So was Alex. The quieter, more introspective version of Dylan evidently had a strong interest in food. She picked up a piece of one of the puffed little cakes, which were actually hollow inside, and popped it in her mouth.  It was delicious. She offered one to Alex, who gladly took a piece. He, too, thought they were quite delicious.

“What are these puffed cakes made from?” Ellowyn wanted to know, stuffing another one into her mouth.

“Flour, eggs, a little milk and salt,” the servant told her.  “We bake them in fat and they puff up into little hollow cakes. Sometimes we douse them with gravy, which is also very delicious.”

Ellowyn had already put another cake in her mouth by the time the woman had finished explaining how they were made.  Alex took the last one.  The serving woman ran off with the basket and returned with several more, all hot and delicious with white butter and golden honey soaking into them.   She also included several cuts of well-cooked meat, which smelled divinely. It was crispy, salty and greasy, and Alex took a piece before Ellowyn could get to it.  He crunched into it the brittle meat, pieces flying out of his mouth. Ellowyn selected her own piece and bit into it.

“What is this wonderful meat?” she asked, mouth full.

The servant woman grinned, displaying the only three discolored teeth she had. “
Bacoun
my lady,” she replied. “It is cured, salted, and fried pork.”

Ellowyn was sold. “Give me all you have. I suspect it will be stolen from me when the knights smell it.”

The old servant was on the move. “I shall return, my lady.”

Ellowyn devoured her fill of the puffed-up cakes while waiting for the
bacoun
, leaving a few for Brandt on the assumption he had not yet eaten.  When the servant returned with a slab of
bacoun
wrapped in burlap that was quickly soaking with the grease, Alex carried it outside for her but Ellowyn kept shooting him threatening expressions to ensure the temptation of the pungent smell would not lure him into eating it.  She wanted it for Brandt,  protective and concerned for her new husband.  He had displayed as much consideration for her; she would return the favor.

It was still quite misty outside in the breaking dawn.  Water coated the buildings, landscape, and people, and there was an icy chill to the air. The army was packed up and ready to depart and Ellowyn could see the knights through the mist, making sure everything was set before they departed for the very long journey to Guildford Castle.  As she stood on the stoop of the inn, watching the activity, a carriage pulled up in front of her.

The wheels kicked up some mud so Ellowyn stepped back, out of the way, as the carriage came to a halt.  It was a sturdy vehicle with a driver perched at the front of it and an enclosed cab, drawn by two matching gray horses that blended in with the mist and fog.  It was in decent condition and she kept waiting for someone to get out of it, but instead, Brandt roared up behind it astride his big black charger.   Ellowyn had to move quickly yet again to avoid the splashing mud.

“My lady,” Brandt greeted her as he climbed off his steed. His helm was on, his visor up, and his dark eyes were warm on her. “You look astonishingly lovely in your new garments.”

Ellowyn felt warm and giddy at the sight of him. “That is because you have remarkable taste, my lord,” she flirted gently. “Thank you again for these lovely things.”

He looked like a man who was struggling to fight off a grin as he went to her and reached out, taking the hand that wasn’t holding the food.  He kissed her fingers sweetly, his gaze lingering on her as she grinned coyly at him.  It was a sweet little moment. Then, he tilted his head in the direction of the carriage.

“What do you think of your new coach?” he asked.

Ellowyn’s eyes widened as she looked at it. “This is for me?”

“Indeed,” he replied, putting the warm palm of her hand against his rough cheek. “The livery had it, evidently acquired from a traveling merchant who could not pay them for its storage.   The stable master was more than happy to sell it to me.”

Ellowyn patted his cheek and removed her hand, stepping closer to the carriage and running a careful eye over it. 

“The wheels look to be in good condition,” she commented, peering into the cab.  It was double-sided, holding passengers on a rear-facing bench and a forward-facing bench.  “The leather on the seats seems adequate.  How much did you pay for it?”

Brandt wasn’t used to being questioned about his monetary transactions but he also knew that Ellowyn was a very astute businesswoman. He could see, in that moment, that his financial freedom and control was about to change; Ellowyn was used to controlling the purse strings for her family and he realized that was going to be the case within their marriage as well. It was the natural order of things. He felt very much as if he was answering to her as he replied.

“Five gold marks,” he told her. “When we reach Guildford, I have a particularly talented smithy that will restore it like new.”

Her eyebrows lifted at him. “Five gold marks?” she repeated, looking back at the carriage. “That seems a bit much. Perhaps I should speak with him and renegotiate the price.”

Brandt fought off a grin. “Not today,” he told her, opening up the door to the cab. “If we had the time, I would let you barter to your heart’s content, but we must depart immediately unless you are keen to having your father catch up to us.”

She sighed, perhaps in agreement, and he took it as a sign to assist her into the cab before she could argue further with him.  Scooping her into his arms, he swept her up into the cab, depositing her neatly onto the seat.  Alex, standing next to the carriage, handed her the wrapped
bacoun
through the window.   Before she could thank him, Brandt sent the man back inside the inn on an errand to collect a heavy coverlet for his wife.  Alex was off but the smell of the
bacoun
was heavy in the air as Ellowyn held the greasy parcel in her hand.

“Have you broken your fast yet?” she asked Brandt. “I have some wonderful food for you.”

Brandt shook his head. “No time,” he said. “We must depart.”

He started to move away but she stopped him, unwrapping the
bacoun
and extending a piece to him.

“Here,” she said in a tone that left no opportunity for declination. “Eat this. You must keep up your strength and we have a long ride ahead of us.”

Brandt reached for the meat because she told him to.  Also, he didn’t want to upset her. It was easier to do as she asked rather than argue or refuse her. So he shoved it into his mouth and started to walk away when he realized that it was very good.  He turned to say something to her about it but she shoved thrust more at him, plus the basket of still-warm puffy cakes.  She told him to take one, so he did, putting everything in his mouth and chewing it all down. 

She was directing him to eat so he did, like a child being directed by his mother, and in little time he had scarfed down everything.  He had crumbs and grease on his expensive gloves but he didn’t give it any notice; it was odd behavior from a man who did not take orders from anyone, now being bossed around by a slip of a woman.  But he didn’t give it any thought and neither did Ellowyn; again, it seemed to be the natural order of things and Brandt submitted quite willingly, loving it and not even realizing he was loving it.  He was simply doing as he was told. It was the beginning of contentment he had never before experienced, a relationship with a woman he had never known to exist.  It was symbiotic in every sense.

Shaking the crumbs off his fingers, he leaned into the door of the cab and kissed Ellowyn, mute thanks for being thoughtful enough to feed him.  As he pulled his head out of the cab, he happened to glance at his knights standing several feet away; Dylan, Magnus, Stefan and Brennan were all watching him with rather curious expressions on their faces. They had never seen anyone order Brandt around, either, and they were somewhat stunned by the fact that Ellowyn was tending to the man like a mother to her child. The mighty Duke of Exeter had a wife who brought out a softer side of the man they’d never seen before and their astonishment was understandable.

When they realized that Brandt was looking at them, they suddenly began moving about as if they had something better to do. Magnus and Stefan actually bumped into each other in their haste to scatter. Alex came out of the inn at that moment, bearing a coverlet and a pillow he had confiscated from the bed Ellowyn and Brandt had slept on the night before.   He handed both items to Brandt, who turned away from his confused knights long enough to put the pillow behind Ellowyn’s back and cover her with the heavy blanket.

“There you are,” he said, tucking the coverlet around her legs. “You will be much more comfortable traveling like this.”

Ellowyn’s brow furrowed. “But the carriage will slow us down considerably,” she pointed out. “With my father pursuing us, I could just as easily ride a horse.”

He shook his head. “You will let me worry about that,” he said. “This carriage will travel much faster than you think providing the roads are in good repair.”

“And if they are not?”

“Then we shall have to remedy the situation at that time. Until then, enjoy the ride.”

With that, he took her hand and kissed it before securing the cab door closed.  Ellowyn could hear him speaking with Dylan and the subsequent shouts of the knights as the men began to move out.  The carriage lurched forward and she yelped, surprised, before settling in as the vehicle pulled out onto the road.  Fortunately, the road was indeed in good repair so the ride was relatively smooth. 

Chargers raced past the carriage, heading to the front of the column, and she caught sight of a big black beast as it whirled by the small carriage window. In new clothing and bundled up against the chill weather, Ellowyn had truthfully never traveled in such luxury and she wasn’t hard pressed to admit she liked it.  

For a short while, she watched the mist-shrouded landscape pass through the small window, her mind wandering back to Erith and her family, wondering if her father was indeed planning to pursue.  She wondered if her grandmother had confessed her part in the escape, and if Lady Gray had talked her father out of his vengeance.  She wondered if her father would even listen.

Not an hour into her journey south, Ellowyn fell asleep against the gently rocking carriage.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Guildford Castle

Thirteen days after the hasty departure from Erith Castle, the soaring keep of Guildford came into view.

Seated in her carriage playing a card game from a deck of lovely painted cards that Brandt had purchased for her in the larger berg of Warrington about a week prior, Ellowyn heard the shouts of the men as their home was finally within sight.  Sticking her head out of the window, she caught sight of the big white keep on the horizon, a pale-looking mountain against the deep blue sky.

Cards still in hand, she looked around the nearest knight. There was always a knight riding near her coach, usually her husband, but today he was at the head of the column. She spied Magnus and waved him over. 

“Is that Guildford?” she asked, pointing to the sight in the distance.

De Reyne nodded his helmed head. “Indeed, Lady de Russe,” he said. “We will be there within the hour.”

She shielded her eyes from the sun.  “It seems so far away,” she murmured. Then she removed her hand and looked at Magnus. “Do you think that Brennan and Alex have reached their homes yet?”

St. Hèver and Alex de Lara had been sent to their respective father’s holdings almost two weeks before to seek men and material for Brandt’s return to France.  Their absences had been felt, mostly by Ellowyn who had become friendly with Brennan.  He would talk to her as they rode along keeping her company when Brandt could not.  The other knights just seemed to keep a polite distance with her. With the big blond knight missing, she had been rather lonely.

“I am sure they arrived at their destinations several days ago,” Magnus replied. “In fact, I would not be surprised if they were already on their way to Guildford.”

“How many men do you suppose they will be bringing?”

Magnus shrugged. “That is difficult to say,” he replied. “The Duke of Carlisle has an enormous compliment of men, but he is close to the Scots border and does not like to diminish his strength.  The same can be said for the Earl of Wrexham on the Welsh Marches.”

She was thoughtful. “Then perhaps my husband will need to solicit men elsewhere.”

“That is a distinct possibility, my lady.”

Ellowyn though on the fact that Brandt might need to spend more time in England before heading back to France and the thought did not displease her. As she pondered that possibility, she began looking around, taking an interest in the landscape for the first time in days.

“It seems as if I have been caged in this coach for years,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun again. “I have not paid much attention to the lands we have passed through. It seems rather flat around here, does it not?”

Magnus looked around, too. “You come from land that has many mountains and valleys,” he said. “Compared to that, it is indeed rather flat around here. You have never been this far south?”

She shook her head. “I have been to London, of course, but never this far south.  The castle rather looks like a mountain amongst all of this flat land.”

Magnus wriggled his eyebrows. “Do not let this land deceive you. It is very rich soil.  The farmers make a small fortune off of their crops, which in turn makes the duke a very wealthy man.”

Ellowyn simply nodded, watching closely as the village surrounding Guildford came into view.  She could see a church, built from pale stone in a squat and powerful design, and the cloister surrounding it.   There were people out tending the fields, beasts of burden pulling plows as the serfs toiled in the dirt. The weather was very moderate; in fact, it was rather warm and there were few clouds in the vibrant sky.  The ground didn’t seem to be saturated with too much rain as the land she came from tended to be, but the fields and hedges were very green and overgrown.

On the edge of the town, the gutters were full of muck as they drew closer to the areas of human habitation.  With the warmth of the day, the smell of urine and feces wafted in the air now and again.  Children ran about with their friends, playing games, while other children hauled buckets or accomplished tasks for their masters. 

There were a great many people milling about and Ellowyn put her cards away to watch the comings and goings.  She was so involved, in fact, that she hardly noticed when the column came to a halt.  She only noticed when de Reyne slammed his face plate shut and bolted in the direction of the castle. Suddenly, men were shouting in chorus and the carriage was turned around, nearly tipping it at the speed in which it was moving, and making haste away from the castle.

The cards scattered, and Ellowyn held on for dear life.

***

Hours later, the town was vacant and people were in hiding as the sun began to set on a bright and glorious day. A half mile from Guildford Castle, Brandt had set up a small encampment but it wasn’t meant for rest; it was in preparation for a battle. 

Ellowyn sat in Brandt’s tent with her cards, her possessions, and her husband’s material comforts. The flat copper disc was once again called into service and it sat in the middle of the tent, raised on stones, and burning a small pile of wood for warmth.  Smoke escaped through the hatch in the room.   It was the same tent she had stayed in nearly every night, with rare exception, for almost three weeks.  She and the tent were friends now. A boring friend, but a comfort nonetheless. She was thinking on giving it a name.

Seated on a heavy rug atop the ground, she lay her cards out absently, playing a solitary game, before losing track of what she was doing and collecting the cards, only to shuffle them out again.  She knew something was going on but no one had come to tell her what it was.  She knew it had something to do with the castle but beyond that, she had no idea.  Boredom was settling heavy on her and she was thinking of putting her cards away altogether when she heard voices close by.

One of the voices was Brandt; he was giving a directive to someone, more than likely Dylan.  The two men were practically inseparable. Ellowyn watched the tent flap with anticipation, cards still in her hands, waiting for Brandt to make an appearance. She didn’t have to wait long.

He blew into the shelter, slapping back the tent flap so violently that he nearly pulled half the tent down.  Ellowyn put her arms over her head as the tent lurched dangerously but Brandt managed to steady it.  When Ellowyn finally lowered her arms and looked at him, he smiled sheepishly.

“Greetings,” he said softly, perhaps wearily. He let go of the supporting pole and made his way towards her. “Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He pulled off his helmet with a heavy sigh, tossing it on to the pile of his possessions.  “Good,” he muttered, scratching his scalp as he faced her. “Then we may at least share a meal together. Considering I have not seen you all day, I am grateful for whatever time I can spend with you.”

Ellowyn watched the man, his exhausted movements, his pale and shadowed face.  He stood there, pulling off his gauntlets as she watched him closely.  His expression was hard, his eyes distant.

“What is the matter?” she asked softly. “Why are we here and not within the walls of Guildford Castle?”

Brandt tossed the gloves down and rubbed at his eyes. “Because it would seem that Arundel is occupying my castle,” he said, looking at her. “He says that the king asked him to garrison my property while I was in France but I know that to be a lie. I have given him until the sun sets to be off the grounds.”

“Or what?”

He sighed again. “Or I will lay siege and kill every one of Arundel’s men,” he said. Then, he grunted ironically. “Fitzalan and I have fought together, many times. I know the man.  He thought perhaps that I would not return from France and set about staking his claim early for my holdings.”

Ellowyn was confused by the entire situation. “Is he your enemy, then?”

Brandt shook his head. “He is a greedy bastard. His father and my father had a tenuous relationship and the son carries on the tradition.  He occupies my castle while I am away, takes my revenue, rapes my lands….” He righted a stool that had been lying near his bedroll and planted it next to where Ellowyn was sitting. He plopped on it heavily. “When I docked in London, I had over two thousand men with me.  When we departed for Erith, I sent three-quarters of my men here with sixteen of my lesser knights.  Arundel’s commander tells me that when the army tried to return to Guildford, he sent them to one of my lesser castles at Farnborough.  De Reyne and several soldiers ride there now to collect them and bring them back here.  I have sent le Bec to Canterbury for reinforcements.”

Ellowyn cocked her head.  “You are allied with Canterbury?”

He nodded. “The House of de Russe and the House of de Lohr have long been allied,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes again before refocusing on her.  “James de Lohr, the Earl of Canterbury, is a friend.  Le Bec can make it to Canterbury in a few days, but we cannot expect reinforcements from de Lohr for a couple of weeks at the earliest. I am therefore hoping that Arundel’s commander obeys my directive and vacates my castle by the dictated time.”

Ellowyn gazed up at him as he rubbed his eyes again.  The man was so very weary, burdened by days and months and years of strife.  She began to think back to moments when she had seen her father weary or in particular pain, and how her mother had rubbed away the worries and the ache.  It always seemed to work for her father. Perhaps it would work with Brandt.  She felt strongly that she needed to do something for the man; he appeared edgy and brittle.

Silently, she stood up and moved in behind him as he sat on the stool.  Brandt tried to turn around to look at her but she put her hands on either side of his head, forcing him to face forward.  With her hands still on his head, she got in behind him so that she was right up against his back.  His head was level with her breasts. 

“Relax your head,” she murmured, gently pulling it back so it was resting against her chest.  “Just… relax.”

Brandt did as he was told, leaning his head back slightly until it came to rest against her. He didn’t even ask her why; he simply did as she asked. He was rewarded for his obedience when Ellowyn’s fingers began to gently massage his sweaty scalp, his temples.  It was heavenly. Brandt groaned with delight and closed his eyes as Ellowyn proceeded to rub his head, her fingers applying slight pressure, ironing out the worries and stress he was overloaded with. Her gentle fingers moved all over his scalp and forehead, and partially down his neck but his hauberk prevented her from doing much with his neck and shoulders.

So she focused on his head, rubbing his temples and tenderly stroking his forehead. It was a gentle touch, a loving touch, something Brandt had never experienced before. He had so much on his mind; the weight of a young prince’s dreams and the expectations of the royal father.  If he failed, Edward failed, and the monarchy’s quest in France failed. Everything rested on one man’s shoulders.  Days like today, he felt the burden more heavily than others.

Ellowyn seemed to sense that. By magic or intuition, she seemed to sense what was troubling him and was prepared to do what she could to help him in a way he’d never been helped before. It was on a deeper level, an emotional level, and he’d never known such comfort.  He was quickly becoming languid, dozing, enjoying every rub, every stroke.  He felt her kiss the top of his dirty head.

“You have had a very trying day,” she whispered. “Right now, at this moment, I want you to think of nothing else but peace and relaxation. Can you do this?”

His eyes were closed as he leaned back against her. “I can try,” he mumbled.

She smiled at his sleepy reply. “I want you to think of a peaceful lake on a warm summer’s day, and of cool grass beneath your feet,” she murmured. “I want you to think of me sitting next to you on the shores of this lake. I want you to….”

She was cut off by a rattling snore.  She laughed softly, continuing to rub his head, pleased that he had fallen asleep against her.   At least for a few moments, she had given him that peace she had hoped for.  The poor man was exhausted.

As she stood there and rubbed his head, she realized it was the first time she had seen the man with his guard down.  Even in times of intimacy between them, and there had been several since they had been married, he hadn’t fully let his guard down.  There was always some manner of control to his behavior.  But at this moment, he was at his most vulnerable.  Underneath all of the pomp and circumstance, he was just a man with all of the needs of a man.  Ellowyn intended to provide for those needs. She intended to take care of him.

Brandt’s snoring was deep and even. He was dead asleep against her, sitting up, as she massaged his scalp.  It went on for several minutes until the tent flap slapped back again and Dylan appeared.  Before he could say anything, Ellowyn barred her teeth at him threateningly and he came to a wide-eyed halt, seeing that Brandt was sleeping the sleep of the dead as his wife drilled her fingers into his head.

“Wake him and you shall feel my wrath,” she hissed softly. “Let him rest, for Pity’s sake.”

Dylan’s gaze moved from her face to Brandt’s and back again. He was apologetic. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly but politely. “He must know that Arundel is on the move. They are vacating the castle.”