Swords and Shields (Reign of the House of de Winter) (41 page)

Drake could hardly speak. He simply nodded his head, wiping at his eyes, as Davyss came up and hugged them both. He was stunned and touched to see the emotion in Drake, a man who answered the call to swords and shields with nothing less that emotionless resolve. But this was different; he’d lost one brother and very nearly lost another. That emotionless, prideful knight had grown in the past few months, developing the heart and soul of a true man. It was a wonderful thing to see, something Davyss took great happiness in, but long ago, he seemed to remember the same thing happening to him when a certain Devereux Allington had been introduced into his life.

Women had a way of changing a man for the better.

As Davyss watched Drake and Devon walk away, he could only feel the greatest pride a father could. His sons, men of power and compassion, were everything he could have hoped for and Drake, his eldest, his shining star, had become something more than just a knight. The marriage he’d so resisted, the wife he’d never wanted, had become part of his fabric more than he could ever realize, influencing his ability to express his feelings. Through the highs and lows they had shared, Elizaveta du Reims de Winter had helped his son understand the value of a forgiving heart. Now, he understood more than simply swords and shields. He understood love. Davyss could see, already, that Drake was destined to make a great earl and he would have a great countess by his side.

Davyss smiled to himself, his gaze on Drake as the man yelled at Denys to come down off the wall. He was so glad he’d lived to see the day that Drake should become such a fine man, selfless and true. With his wife waiting in Ipswich a couple of miles away, waiting patiently for her husband to return from the reclamation of their home, Davyss knew that Drake would soon be leaving to collect the woman, to bring her back to the castle, to rebuild it and to start their new life together. It was the start of a magnificent future for Lord and Lady de Winter.

Aye
, Davyss thought to himself,
thank God I lived to see the day.

The day of Drake’s evolvement into a man of great hope.

It would be the greatest de Winter legacy of all.

Norwich Castle

June, 1301 A.D.

“The missive is addressed to the Earl of Thetford, my lord,” a messenger with a heavy French accent spoke. “Lady Agnes du Reims is searching for her daughter. She assumed the de Winters would know where she was.”

Davyss gazed back at the skinny, black-toothed man in disbelief. It was early summer and the morning fog, usually so heavy at this time of year, was quickly burning off beneath a bright, morning sun that would soon give way to pleasant temperatures and clear skies. Everyone was dressing lighter these days, without the heavy cloaks and wools, that included Davyss. He greeted the well-dressed messenger, who had been escorted to the keep by two armed de Winter soldiers, in a linen tunic and leather breeches. After a very long pause, he responded.

“
Who
are you?” he asked.

The messenger bowed politely, his greasy hair flopping in his face when he did. “I serve the Countess of East Anglia from her property in Gascon.”

Davyss eyed the man. “Do you speak of Agnes du Reims?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“She is no longer the countess. A new earl has assumed the title.”

The messenger lost all of his poise and his facial expression shifted into a shocked grimace. “A… a new earl, my lord?” he stammered. “Lady du Reims is not aware.”

“Then you will tell her,” Davyss said as he reached out to take the missive the messenger was holding. “Christian du Reims died seven months ago, God rest his soul.”

It was obvious that the messenger was stunned. Davyss dismissed the man and his soldiers took him away, practically dragging him away so he could not ask any further questions, as Davyss took the missive back into the dual-halled keep. People were breaking their fast inside, including his family.

Drake and Elizaveta were feasting in the second half of the hall where the family usually ate with Devereux pacing the floor behind them, holding a new infant in her arms. Lady Rose de Winter had been born eighteen days earlier and her parents, as well as her grandparents, were enamored with her.

Devereux often got up with the infant in the middle of the night, helping with feedings and helping the new parents get some much-needed sleep, which meant she brought the baby into her chamber where the child kept Davyss up all night. But he didn’t really mind; she was a beautiful, healthy baby and he was grateful. Sometimes, if his wife was feeling particularly magnanimous, he even got to hold little Rose.

His gaze shifted as he entered the hall, seeing Drake, Elizaveta, and Denys sitting at the end of the table with bowls of warmed porridge and stewed fruit between them. There were also bowls of pickled fruits – lemons and onions – which had been a staple for Elizaveta for the duration of her pregnancy. Due to deliver her child very soon, her belly was positively enormous. Drake hadn’t left her side for the last two months, terrified he would not be present for the birth of his child. Even now, he hovered over her until she threatened to go sit somewhere else. Davyss could hear them bickering as he approached.

“Drake,” Davyss said as he came up behind Denys, looking at the married couple seated next to him. “What have I told you? You must let the woman breathe. She can do for herself and you must let her if she wants to.”

Elizaveta grinned. “It is not that bad,” she said, eyeing her husband. “I can breathe for myself. But that is all I am allowed to do.”

Drake chewed on a hunk of warm bread, displeasure in his features. “Ungrateful,” he muttered. “You are completely ungrateful.”

Elizaveta laughed. “I am very grateful, my love,” she said. “I am grateful for your attentiveness and your thoughtfulness. I am grateful that you follow me everywhere, truly. I am grateful that you allow me to use the privy and only ask to stand at the door rather than try to help me with my necessities. I am grateful for all of these things. But if you do not let me spoon my own food into my mouth, I am going to punch you right in the nose.”

Drake rolled his eyes, turning away and pretending to be very annoyed with his unappreciative wife. “As you wish,” he said, clipped. “I will never help you again.”

“Promise?”

“I do
not
!”

That set the entire table to laughter, so much that Devereux, with the baby still in her arms, shushed them.

“Quiet!” she hissed. “Rose is sleeping. Do not wake her!”

The room quieted down immediately and Davyss took the opportunity to mention the business he had come about. “Drake,” he said. “I would speak to you alone, please. Come with me.”

Obediently, Drake stood up and started to follow his father, but he was not alone. Elizaveta had risen to her feet as well and was waddling after him. Davyss and Drake were nearly out of the hall when Drake caught sight of Elizaveta shuffling behind him. He came to a halt, as did his father.

“You do not need to come, Vee,” he said, putting his hands on her arms. “Go back and finish your meal.”

Elizaveta started to reply but Davyss interrupted. “It is all right,” he said. “In fact, she should come, too. This missive concerns her.”

Drake looked at his father, his brow furrowing with suspicion and concern. “What missive?”

Drake simply waved the couple on. The two of them followed Davyss into the room to the east of the dining hall, a small chapel the family used for daily prayer. Drake helped Elizaveta to sit on the only pew in the chapel as Davyss produced the missive and broke the seal. He spoke as he unrolled it.

“I just had a visitor,” he said. “The man, with the heavy Gascon accent, told me that the Countess of East Anglia had sent him because the woman was in search of her daughter. This missive is addressed to me.”

Elizaveta and Drake looked at each other, shocked by the declaration. “The Countess of East Anglia?” Drake repeated. “That is my wife.”

Davyss nodded as he read the contents of the missive. “I know,” he said, glancing up before continuing to read. “This is from Agnes du Reims.”

Drake’s attention returned to his wife to see what her reaction would be to the news. Not surprisingly, Elizaveta had no discernable reaction. She looked at Davyss, and to her husband, before averting her gaze.

“I do not have a mother,” she said. “She has been gone from me these past several months.”

Drake didn’t say anything; truthfully, he didn’t know what to say so it was best to say nothing. However, he was quite curious about this missive and what it may contain but he was also quite wary; he didn’t want his wife upset but there was no use trying to chase her from the room now. She wouldn’t go, anyway, not until she heard the contents of the missive. Therefore, he took her hand and held it as his father finished reading the missive. When Davyss was done, he handed it to Elizaveta but she refused to take it. She didn’t want anything to do with her mother. Drake took it instead.

“Your mother is asking if I know where you are,” Davyss said, eyeing Drake as the man read the missive. “She asks that if I know where you are to please ask you to write her. She wants to know of your health and she says that she is continuing your grandmother’s good work. She is assuming we do not know what that good work is.”

Elizaveta sighed heavily, shaking her head. “She is a fool,” she hissed. “After what happened at The Black Goose, how can she assume I have not told you everything? Could she truly be so daft?”

Davyss shrugged. “I would not know,” he said quietly. “You have not written to her nor have you spoken to her. I am going on the assumption that she knows nothing, as evidenced by her missive.”

Elizaveta grunted unhappily. “So she writes you a missive, seeking me, and very clearly stating that she has picked up where my grandmother left off, which means that she is now sending information to the Scots,” she said in disgust. “Well, I will not do it. I will not write her. I do not want to have anything to do with her.”

Drake was finished with the missive at this point, listening to his wife’s anger. “Do not be so hasty, love,” he said. “This may be a grand opportunity and one we should not pass over.”

Davyss looked at him curiously but Elizaveta was still angry. “I will not write her,” she said again.

Drake put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me first,” he said. “For what your grandmother did, I cannot believe you would not be beyond a bit of vengeance yourself.”

Now he had Elizaveta’s curiosity and she looked up at him, reluctantly. “What vengeance?”

Davyss lifted a dark eyebrow, contemplating. “What if you were to send your mother a missive with information my father and I give you,” he said. “False information, of course, that would mayhap lead the Scots into an ambush, just as they once used such information to ambush us. A bit of retaliation with Dallan’s name on it is not such a bad thing, is it?”

Elizaveta went from staunchly refusing to respond to her mother to being quite interested in what her husband had to say. It was a brilliant plan, truthfully, one that she was quiet eager to listen to. So was Davyss.

And so, the plan was laid….

Edward, who was in London at this time, held an audience with Davyss and Drake de Winter two weeks later, men who were two of his most powerful earls, and saw the brilliance of Drake’s suggestion much as Davyss had. Although Elizaveta still had not delivered their child and Drake had not wanted to leave her side, Elizaveta had insisted he go to London to meet with Edward because she truly felt this plan of Drake’s was quite important.

More than that, she too saw it as retribution for Dallan de Winter’s death and she was eager to participate, to make amends for the betrayal no one in the de Winter family ever spoke of. Whether or not they spoke about it, however, she remembered it every single day, so when Drake had the opportunity to meet with the king and lay out a plan against the Scots, she was most supportive of it. Therefore, Drake reluctantly went to London.

The problem was that these days, the Scots refused to engage in open battle and were content with raiding the English countryside in Northern England, and Edward very much wanted to have the Scots in one place in order to subdue them. This false information to feed Agnes du Reims made that possible. After a meeting with Edward that lasted all night where plans were laid for an ambush in Carlisle, Drake and Davyss rushed back to Norwich just in time for the birth of Dair du Reims de Winter.

The time had finally come.

Drake had barely entered the keep when Denys, excited and wide-eyed, told him that his wife was giving birth. In a panic, Drake had raced up the stairs to their chamber only to be prevented from entering by Devon, who told him the women were inside the chamber assisting with the birth. It was a man’s duty to wait it out, and wait they did.

Terrified, and lightheaded, Drake had been held at bay by his father and brothers for a thankfully short amount of time before Daniella appeared and informed Drake that he had a fat, healthy son. Drake remembered being picked up off the floor after that and given wine before his mother came out of the chamber and, along with his father, carefully helped the man inside to see his wife and child.

It was a screaming, red-faced infant with a crown of black hair that greeted him. Drake laughed until he cried, enchanted by little Dair.
His son
. He couldn’t stop kissing the baby or his wife, who was understandably exhausted after her two-day ordeal.

But Elizaveta was well, thankfully, and recovered quickly, quickly enough that five days after the birth of Dair, she was able to write a missive to her mother, with Drake and Davyss’ input, telling the woman that she was well and that the English were gathering in Carlisle for a peaceful meeting of the barons, and that the information should be relayed with all haste to the Scots.

Agnes, overjoyed to hear from her daughter who evidently forgave her all of her failings as a mother by the tone of her informative missive, was quick to send the information to Eustace Maxwell, who gathered his allies to move on Carlisle, hoping to catch Edward himself unaware. It was quite a shock when they were the ones caught unaware by a twenty thousand-man army. William de Wolfe, Cortez de Bretagne, the House of de Winter, and many more warlords were united and waiting for the wholly unprepared Scots army.

They had planned it that way.

Eustace survived the route but Arn and William Douglas, as well as John and Robert Maxwell, did not. They were obliterated by the de Winters and several other English warlords, all of them ambushing the Maxwell army just as the Maxwell army had once ambushed the de Winter army those months ago. Young Dallan de Winter’s death had not been in vain; in this retaliatory strike, his death had been the catalyst to weakening the Scots and perhaps preventing many more English deaths. At least, that was the way Drake and Davyss looked at it. Out of the bad came something good.

Dallan would have been proud.

That was how Elizaveta looked at it, too, when Drake returned from the north to tell her of the overwhelming victory. With the Maxwell’s defeated, the de Mandevilles eliminated, and peace in general in the de Winter family, life was looking better and better every day. Family, brotherhood, laughter and love was what life was all about.

It was a message that young Dair de Winter would grow up with and teach his own children and from his parents’ great teaching, the de Winter legacy would live on.