Medieval Master Warlords (23 page)

Jax knew that; it was the way he had trained his men.  Work hard and receive rewards.   His reward would be Kellington.  But his men needed motivation also.  He turned his great helmed head in the direction of Tor and Atreus, lifting his visor as he did so.

“I will make no promises to that regard,” he said. “After today, a great many things may change for us.”

“What do you mean?” Tor asked.

Jax’s dual-colored gaze moved to Atreus as he spoke.  “Because I may have to give up a great deal in order to reclaim the lady.  I do not know what assets I will have at the end of this day so I cannot make any promises to the men.”

Tor thought on that a moment. “You can promise anything,” he said in a low voice. “But to execute that promise is another matter altogether.”

Jax nodded, frustration suddenly in his manner.  “I have been thinking the same thing. I can promise Northumberland the return of everything I have captured, but that does not necessarily mean I will keep my promise.”

“If you do not, no one will ever negotiate with you again,” Atreus put in. “You have always been known to be a man of your word.  It is as solid as gold. Would you destroy that reputation?”

Jax was silent a moment. “I am not sure my future wife would respect a man who went back on his word,” his gaze flicked up to his men as if embarrassed to look them in the eye. “Her respect means a great deal to me.  Although I have been thinking on going back on my word, I do not suppose that I could.  What little honor I have is anchored in the validity of my promises.”

Tor puffed out his cheeks and looked away, sensing the dilemma. Not that he disagreed with Atreus; Jax de Velt had always been known as a man of his word.  If he said it, he would do it. 

“But what about the men?” Tor wanted to know.

Jax was silent a moment, thinking of the retainers sworn to him, men that were nearly as hard as he was. They were thieves and murderers and expected to be rewarded well; their loyalty was only as good as Jax’s promises to them.  He was no fool; he knew that. Mercenaries were a fickle lot.  They could very well turn on him if displeased and he needed them for what he must accomplish.

“I may end up giving back Pelinom, White Crag, Norham and even Foulburn in exchange for Kellington,” he said pensively. “But that does not mean I will not raze Alnwick in vengeance.   Once I have Kellington back, we will let loose on Alnwick.  Her, and her spoils, will be their reward.”

Tor nodded as calmly as if they were discussing the weather, but Atreus was still dubious.  It was important that Jax not make any promises he did not intend to keep.

“What if the baron asks you to spare Alnwick in the course of the negotiations,” he pressed. “What will you do?”

“I will not make that promise.” He suddenly smacked his balled fist against his armored thigh, causing the chargers to start. “Damnation, Atreus, I will not let this go unpunished.  I will get the lady back any way I must and when I am finished with Alnwick, I will send for more men from my holdings in France.  With two thousand men, I will storm the north and claim more than I ever have.  De Vesci and Coleby will rue the day they decided to keep Kellington from me. I will crush what is left of Northumberland and take a slice out of Cumbria, mark my words.”

There was controlled rage to his declaration, reined power behind his words. It was mesmerizing to watch him speak sometimes; there was such force behind it. Tor’s eyes glittered; he was, at heart, a mercenary and he knew de Velt meant every last destructive word.  He knew they would have their own kingdom soon, a slice of England, Scotland and Wales that de Velt and his generals would control. No one would be able to touch them. 

Atreus knew it, too. His voice was soft, questioning, as he spoke. “What do you intend to do with de Vesci and Coleby should we take Alnwick?”

Jax looked at him, the two-colored eyes wild and animalistic in the weak light from the approaching dawn.   It was a legitimate question, one for which he was struggling for an answer. He had been struggling with it since their march began.

“De Vesci will follow the usual path of our enemies,” he said quietly. “But Coleby… I must tread carefully.

“You cannot kill him.”

“I know. But he will pay nonetheless.”

Atreus didn’t say any more.  Jax was edgy at the moment and he did not want to provoke the man.  There was so much on his mind, so much turmoil in his heart, that it was difficult to know what he was thinking much less feeling.  For the first time in his life, Jax de Velt was struggling with his conscience.  Atreus knew it even if Jax did not.

In silence, they headed in the direction of the coming dawn, watching the sky turn shades of lavender and pink, each to own thoughts, each wondering what the day would bring.

None more so than Jax.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The gown was medium blue cotton fabric that the merchant in Carlisle had told her had been produced in Arabia.  Her father had bought it for her, even though he hadn’t believed the man. But it was well made material nonetheless. Matilda and Lavaine had sewed it into a garment that emphasized Kellington’s petite, womanly figure to a delicious fault.

Though she wore a shift of soft white linen beneath it, the gown still scooped low on the bosom and was secured between her breasts with a ribbon tie.  Loosen the ribbon and she was able to display a very tantalizing bit of cleavage.  The bodice hugged her torso tightly down to her hips, where it then flared away in a much-gathered skirt that swirled about her when she walked.  The sleeves were snug to the wrists, where they then belled. 

Lavaine arranged Kellington’s hair in two very sweet, very maidenly braids that draped over both shoulders.  As Kellington brushed her teeth with a soft reed brush, Lavaine proceeded to help her on with her woolen stockings and leather slippers.  A belt of braided strips of different colored leather hung gracefully about her hips.  All in all, Kellington presented a very beautiful picture.

That was the plan. She had much she needed to accomplish this day and most of it depended on how well she was able to charm Denedor. As the sun created a yellow dome on the eastern horizon and the sky began to fill with the scent of the morning breeze, Kellington and Lavaine put the final touches on Kellington’s appearance. Lavaine even rubbed ocher-colored ointment on her lips to color and soften them.   And with that, she was ready to do what she must.

They knew Keats was leaving this day but they did not know when and had been up most of the night figuring out a plan.  The only one they could come up with was logical but not very intelligent.  Still, it would have to suffice.  They weren’t tacticians.

“Now,” Kellington said as she adjusted the top of her right hose. “Tell me again what you are to do today. Tell me everything we decided upon.”

Lavaine watched Kellington fidget with the wool. “I am to go to the stables and watch for your father.  When he rides away, I am to note the direction and come back to tell you.” She suddenly sobered. “Kelli, are you sure you can track him? A woman alone on these roads….”

Kellington waved her off. “He cannot get far if you are quick about it,” she told her. “I will find him, have no worries. And then I will follow him.”

“And find Jax?”

“Hopefully.”

“What if you do not?”

Kellington smoothed her skirt down and stood up.  The golden brown eyes were clouded with uncertainty. “Then I will ride for Foulburn Castle,” she said quietly. “I will go there and have his men send word to him.”

Lavaine sighed heavily. “Those men will not know you.  You will be riding right into a lair of murderers who would make sport of you before sending any word to de Velt.”

“They will not.”

“I would not go to Foulburn if I were you.”

“Then let us hope my father finds Jax so I will not have to.” She fixed her friend in the eye, reading the distress on her face. It made her think of all they had been through and what more they would be forced to endure.   She was glad they were at least speaking again. “Levie, if I do not have the opportunity to tell you, please know how sorry I am for everything.  I should not have thought you a traitor. I know you did not have much choice where my father was concerned.”

Lavaine’s lips pursed into a sad smile. “And I should not have thought such awful things about you for your feelings towards de Velt.  I still do not understand, but if you say the man has changed, then I suppose I should believe you.”

Kellington mirrored the sad smile. “We have both transgressed against each other, though I suppose mine is much worse than yours. Still, I believed that all men are capable of change.  I do not believe that people are inherently evil. They simply need some guidance now and again. Perhaps I am meant to guide Jax.  I know he has good in him, Levie; I know it.”

Lavaine did not want to dispute her even though she wanted to; she could not embrace nor think kindly of the man who killed her husband and child and it hurt her that Kellington could. Still, Kellington was convinced that de Velt was changing for the better; Lavaine would only believe it when she saw proof. 

“Are you ready?” she asked Kellington, subtly changing the subject. “I will knock on the door and bring forth Denedor.  You must keep him occupied while I slip away to watch for your father.”

Kellington nodded, her stomach twisting with nerves, knowing what she must do and praying she was brave enough to do it. Now was the time for the strength and courage she had always had so much of.  Courage that would see her through to Jax.

“I am ready,” she said quietly.

Lavaine nodded briefly and moved swiftly to the door. Hand on the latch, she gave Kellington a final smile before rapping softly on the oak panel.  It opened almost immediately.

Denedor poked his blond head into the room.  His pale blue eyes found Kellington almost immediately and he stepped inside, still riveted to her. Kellington noticed one thing about him immediately; he was dressed in black from head to toe. A heavy black tunic, black leather vest, black breeches and black boots gave him an almost menacing appearance. With his white-blond hair, it was a striking picture. 

“How may I be of service, my lady?” he asked pleasantly.

Lavaine didn’t say a word; Denedor had eyes only for Kellington and she took that as a blessing as she fled the chamber. Alone with de Vesci’s knight, Kellington forced a smile, wondering if she should apologize for her friend’s flighty behavior but opting not to.  She didn’t want Denedor to become suspicious of anything at this point.

“I was hoping to take another walk this morning,” she said, “and try to talk you out of the old man husband you have planned for your child daughter.”

He broke into soft laughter, running his fingers through his soft blond hair almost nervously. “Are you still on that subject?” he asked. “I thought we laid it to rest.”

“
You
did,” she said pointedly, moving towards him. “I, in fact, did not. I feel I must defend your daughter in your wife’s stead, if you will allow.  I cannot imagine she would have gone along with this so easily.”

His laughter eased, his pale blue eyes glimmering at her. She looked positively exquisite and his heart leapt in his chest as it had not leapt in fifteen years. It was an amazing, empowering experience. Coleby’s words to him, perhaps if you put some effort into charming my daughter, she will forget about de Velt, suddenly had new meaning. He realized that he very much wanted to turn her away from de Velt.  As he gazed at her in the fresh light of the new morning, he knew that he wanted her for himself.

“She was rather quiet,” he said after a moment. “But you are correct; she more than likely would not have been entirely convinced of the wisdom of my decision.  But it is, after all, my decision.”

She lifted her eyebrows at him, coming very close to him but not touching. She wanted to make sure that he had an unobstructed view of her luscious white bosom.

“Let us walk and discuss this,” she said. “For argument’s sake, I will pretend to be… what was your wife’s name?”

“Analia,” he said, the smile fading from his face and definite interest coming to his eyes. 

“Analia,” she repeated. “’Tis a lovely name. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Your rash decision to marry your baby girl to a man with one foot in the grave.”

He held out his elbow to her, his eyebrows lifting. “This man gets older by the second.  I cannot reason with you if you are going to be unreasonable.”

She did not hesitate this time in taking his offered elbow.  They were heading to the door.

“Did you just call me unreasonable?” she demanded with mock outrage.

“I did,” he said regretfully, reaching to open the panel wide so that they could pass through. “But do not ask me to take it back. I won’t.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “We shall see.”

His smile was back as he took her out into the corridor. In fact, he was trying not to look at her, afraid he would start laughing again.  She made laughter come quite easily to him.

“Would you like to break your fast before we delve into the meat of this argument, which will undoubtedly take several hours of the day and the majority of my strength?”

He said it as one long, fast-talking sentence. Kellington thought it was very humorous the way he said it, thinking she could quite possibly like this man were the circumstances different. But all she could see before her was another player in her father’s attempt to keep her from Jax.  She could not let that thought go.

“I could eat something,” she said as they passed through the open door and out into the ward. It was a bright day, growing brighter by the moment. “Where is my father?”

“In the great hall with the baron, I believe,” he replied. “Would you like to join them?”

She shrugged. “They probably do not wish to see me after my behavior the past couple of days.”

Denedor patted her hand as it clutched his elbow. “I am sure you are forgiven.”

Kellington resisted the urge to yank her hand from him, not wanting to feel his fingers upon her in an affectionate way.  And from the way he had touched her, it was definitely affectionate.  By the look on the man’s face, he was practically eating her up, too.  But that was what she wanted so she should have been grateful for it. Still, the main gate of Alnwick was off to her left and she resisted the urge to run for it.  But now was not the time; Denedor would only catch her and any trust they had established would be lost. It was a struggle to maintain her focus.

“So tell me,” she tried to think of something other than bolting off, “were you at my door all night?”

He nodded. “All night, my lady.”

“Surely you had to sleep sometime.”

He lifted his big shoulders. “I returned to my apartment shortly before dawn to sleep for about an hour. Other than that, I have been your guard since you arrived.”

She looked at him. “Do you leave your son to sleep alone, then?” she asked. “He is a small boy. He needs his father to watch over him.”

He looked at her as if she was mad. “My son is more mature than boys twice his age. He does not need me. He has not for a very long time.”

“Have you raised him alone?”             

Denedor nodded. “Since the day he was born.”

“You never remarried?”

He shook his head. “Nay.”

“Why not?”

He looked at her, then, in a very appraising manner. “I have not found the right woman for me. I am very selective. I would not marry just to give my children a mother.  I would marry for love, or at least a very strong like.”

After what Lavaine had told her about Denedor’s conversation with her father, Kellington knew that he meant her. The mere thought made her swallow hard; she couldn’t think in those terms of anyone but Jax. God help her for encouraging this man, for she did so only to betray him and she was sorry.

“I understand you completely,” she said quietly, though she was unable to look him in the eye. “Jax and I have a great deal of like for one another.”

Denedor watched her lowered head, hearing Jax’s name and feeling an odd stab to the chest.  In all honesty, he’d almost forgotten about the man during the course of the conversation, content to believe he was wooing Kellington just as he would any other very special lady. He realized that he did not like the competition and it made his determination to charm her that much stronger.

“I have had a few likes in my life,” he said, looking up to the newly-light sky. “Some were stronger than others. A few I thought would last forever. But they did not; they faded away with time.”

She cast him a side long glance. “They must not have meant very much.”

“They did at the time,” he said; they were growing close to the great hall and he looked up to see servants moving in and out of the massive building. “But the only time I felt a like strong enough to turn into love was when I met my wife.  Within just a few days of knowing her, I knew she would be the one I would marry.”

Kellington watched his face as he spoke; there was still a good deal of emotion there. “That’s very sweet,” she said. “I am sorry you had to lose her so young.”

He nodded. “As am I,” he said. “But my faith in God has kept me strong.”

Kellington was still watching his expression. “And your children as well, I am sure.  You son seems to be a very fine boy.”

“He is,” Denedor looked at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “When he is not hitting ladies in the head with balls or trying to burn down the stables, he is a very fine boy.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Trying to burn down the stables?” she repeated with surprise. “What on earth was he…?”

She did not get the chance to finish her sentence. The sentries on the wall walk were shouting down to Denedor, who immediately stopped their walk to listen to what they were telling him.  However, in doing so, he in advertently took Kellington’s hand into his own and was unconsciously, though quite affectionately, rubbing her hand. It was a very tender gesture, one not lost on Kellington.  It would have thrilled her had it been wanted. But it was not and she discreetly attempted to pull her hand away. But he did not notice.  Whatever the men on the wall were telling him had Denedor singularly focused.