B00Y3771OO (R) (27 page)
Authors: Christi Caldwell
Thomas knew that but he still didn’t like any of it. Shaking his head, he turned back to his big red steed and slid the bridle over the animal’s big head. Adonis, too, was heading back to his horse even though his thoughts were lingering on the situation.
“Mayhap we should send for your father,” he said. “It is possible we will need the man there when you meet with the king. Uncle Kieran can explain away what happened if, in fact, the king recognizes you.”
Kevin shook his head. “I’ve not needed my father’s help since I was a child,” he said. “I will not call upon him now. If there is any reconciling to be done, I will do it.”
“Aren’t you going to send word to him anyway?” Adonis asked softly. “He will want to hear from you. I am sending word to my father right away, as is Thomas. If our fathers receive word from us and Uncle Kieran does not hear from you, he will worry and you know it.”
Kevin was about to take a hard stance but thought better of it. After a moment, he nodded. “I will send word to him,” he said, his gaze taking on a rather longing expression as his movements slowed. “I’ve not seen my father in six years. The last time I heard from him was three years ago and the missive from my mother said that my father was not in the best of health. I… I am almost afraid to send word to him, afraid of what I will discover.”
Adonis and Thomas were thinking the same thing. “My father’s health is good but he is older than God himself,” Thomas said. “I last heard from him two years ago. He said that all was well and that he had more grandchildren now.”
Adonis made a fact at Thomas as if the man had just said something terrible but Kevin knew what Thomas had meant.
“He meant from Penny,” Kevin said, feeling that old familiar stabbing in his heart again. “As of three years ago, my mother said that she had at least two children. I am sure that she has had more by now.”
They should have been my children,
he thought even though he tried not to think those words. They came tumbling down upon him like boulders in an avalanche so he resumed saddling his horse, his movements quicker and more decisive now, as if trying to forget the impact of those thoughts. He was shaking off those boulders, one by one. Even though the events happened those six years ago, he still felt the impact of pain as if it was fresh.
Thomas and Adonis knew that but they kept silent. There wasn’t much point in discussing the very issue that had seen him running off to the Levant. Therefore, they continued to saddle their horses in silence until Thomas pointed out another vessel that had come to lay anchor upon the rocky shores; it seemed that the boat was full of women, women that weren’t all that well dressed, and the crewmen brought them ashore in a dilapidated dinghy. Once the women hit the shores, it was a screaming and shouting match with the tariff collectors and the women began to wail because they evidently didn’t have the money to pay the taxes.
By that time, Kevin, Adonis, and Thomas were ready to leave and they did, leading their horses across the rocky ground, passing the howling women and the yelling tariff collectors, and past the general chaos of the beach area. The path led up a small incline to a larger road that led into the small village of Dover.
The massive, ancient castle was on the top of the bluffs to their right, up the white hill where some manner of fortress had been since Roman times. The sea breeze was picking up as they mounted their horses and headed into town, big white gulls following them as they headed into the heart of the berg. It was busy on this day with all of the travelers that had come ashore by boat, with people crowded in the street as they searched for lodgings. Still other people gathered in the church for prayer as vendors hawked unknown meat, burnt, and hot wine across the street. It was quite an active place as Kevin, Adonis, and Thomas made their way through it all.
“I will send word to my father that we have returned,” Thomas said, looking around the bustling town. “Surely I can hire a messenger from among this rabble.”
Kevin grunted. “Hiring a man is not the question,” he said. “The question is if you can hire a reliable one. I am sure there are many men who would take your money and drink it away without taking a step towards the north of England.”
Thomas continued to look at the people of the town as they passed them on their way out of the village. “Did you notice?” he asked. “Everyone has white skin. There are even a few people with red or blonde hair. And the hills are green. It is starting to occur to me that we are truly home.”
Kevin looked around; the village was set between a series of hills, with the castle on a massive rise to the east. Everything was quite green, smelling of grass and damp and the salt of the sea. He took a long, deep breath, closing his eyes briefly to digest the smells. It did his hardened heart good.
“Indeed we are,” he said. “I’d forgotten these scents. It smells of home.”
Adonis was looking longingly at a tavern as they passed by. “And I have forgotten the taste of home,” he said. “Could we not stop and remember just a few drops?”
Kevin grinned, glancing over his shoulder at the tavern built from the stones and timber. A painted sign nailed to the roofline proclaimed it to be the Gull and Piper, with someone having very badly painted the images of a gull and a piper. “It will take us at least two days to reach London,” he said. “Do you really want to delay?”
Adonis nodded vigorously. “We have spent months traveling from the Levant,” he said. “Let us at least sample a bit of English spirit now that we are on English soil.”
Kevin couldn’t deny him. He, too, was the least bit eager to sample home as well. Without another word, he turned his steed towards the inn. Adonis and Thomas eagerly followed.
The tavern was packed from the top of its slanted roof to the bottom of its uneven dirt floor. As the three knights pushed into the great common room, they could quickly see the amount of people jammed into the place. It smelled strongly of dirty bodies and urine. Kevin, not particularly long on patience and weary from the boat trip, began shoving people aside as he hunted for a table that would suit them. He spied one, over near the hearth, where four men were sitting. He didn’t hesitate; he went straight to the table and grabbed the first man he came to.
“We require your table,” he said, tossing the man aside and reaching for the second one. “Seek your rest elsewhere.”
Adonis and Thomas began grabbing men as well and fairly quickly the entire table was vacant. They didn’t sit down right away, however; like a dog guarding a bone, they stood with their backs to the table, daring any one of those four men to charge them. It was then that they realized they had not dislodged ordinary men – there was a lord and what appeared to be three guards. Kevin and his men could tell simply by the dress.
The lord was a very young man who was quite effeminate. In fact, he seemed to be wearing lip rouge. He was dressed in beautiful purple and red silks and it took Kevin a moment to realize that the young man had flowers in his hair. His entire aura was carefree and womanly, but the expression on the young lord’s thin face was quite manly in its seriousness.
“By what right do you touch me?” he demanded. “I shall have you killed, do you hear?”
His expression may have been powerful but his voice sounded like a woman screeching. Kevin wasn’t one to judge other men; he knew that he himself had become something of an oddity over the years, so he refrained from judging others. Each man had a story, he knew. Therefore, he faced the frilly young lord with a steady gaze.
“It is your right to try but I suggest that you do not,” he said. “My companions and I have just reached England after returned home from the Levant. We require rest more than you do, so find another table.”
The young lord flew at him, all slapping hands and screams. It was a temper tantrum, pure and simple, and when the young man drew near, Kevin reached out and pushed him away by his head. The young lord went sprawling and his guards put their hands to the hilt of their swords, but Kevin quickly held out a hand.
“I would not if I were you,” Kevin said to the trio. “You will not survive. Take your lord and find another table.”
The smell of a battle was in the air and the patrons of the tavern began to notice. In a herd, they began moving away from the conflict. The young lord, however, was still sitting on his bum, glaring up at Kevin in outrage.
“Do you not know who I am, you fool?” he yelled. “I am Roger Longespée, Viscount Twyford! That is correct; I am a viscount and my father is the Earl of Salisbury. My father will see that you are severely punished!”
Kevin didn’t react other than to turn for the table. He sat, heavily, in one of the chairs but he made sure he was facing the viscount and his bodyguards. Then he picked up a half-full cup of ale and drained it.
The young viscount, seeing that his threat had no effect on the massive knight, picked himself out of the dirt, brushed off his silks, and once again approached Kevin. He lifted a hand to strike him but Kevin reached out, grabbed it, and promptly snapped bones.
The young viscount began screaming and his bodyguards charged. Kevin took out the first guard with a devastating blow to the face, collapsing the man’s nose. As he fell away, Kevin lashed out a massive boot and kicked the second guard coming for him. The guard received a powerful kick to the gut and as he fell back, Kevin stood up and unsheathed his broadsword.
It was a heavy sword of the finest tempered steel and the blade had many hash marks on it; Kevin had taken up the habit a few years ago of marking his blade for every man he had killed on a sword that was as long as a man’s arm. The steel, so far, had one hundred and sixty-three hash marks on it, carefully scratched on to the blade near the hand guard for the hilt. He did it as a reminder that someday, he could be a mark on another man’s blade and he had no intention of his life becoming nothing more than a scratch on steel. Therefore, the weapon in his hand was more than something by which to take a life or defend it; it was his salvation in a sense. A reminder of his own mortality.
It was a reminder that was gleaming wickedly in the weak light of the tavern. As Adonis fended off the third guard, the second guard, the one that Kevin had kicked away, slashed at Kevin with his broadsword as Thomas vaulted over the table and went after the man. Now, was a vicious fight between the two of them as tables up-ended and the female patrons of the tavern screamed their fright. Kevin was watching Adonis make short work out of the third guard when he felt a sharp pain in his arm.
Quickly, he put a hand up to feel the pommel of a dirk sticking out of his upper left arm. Grabbing the dagger and yanking it out of his flesh, his fury surged as he turned to see the frilly young lord standing a few feet away, gasping gleefully at what he had done. But that glee turned to fury as he watched Kevin rip the knife out and throw it aside; now, the young lord quickly turned terrified as his attempt to injure the massive shaved-headed knight failed. As Kevin watched, the young lord reached down and unsheathed the sword of the guard whose face Kevin had destroyed. Now, armed with a heavy broadsword he was not accustomed to, he held it with both hands and aimed for Kevin’s midsection.
Kevin fended off the first swipe, sending the viscount off-balance. Infuriated, the young lord brought the sword up again, both hands, swinging it with all his might. He missed Kevin by a wide margin but that didn’t stop him from swinging again and still again. Kevin was able to easily deflect all blows. But seeing his lord in a fight, one of the viscount’s men kicked Thomas aside and lunged at Kevin, nearly making contact. Kevin was distracted for a moment as he fought the man off. It was enough of a distraction for the young viscount to take another swipe at him with his sword. Seeing it out of the corner of his eye, Kevin did the only thing he could do; he defended himself. Ducking low to avoid being hit in the head with the tip of a sword, he came up from beneath the viscount’s line of sight and plunged is broadsword straight into the young man’s belly.
The viscount screamed as a very large sword pierced his abdomen. It was clear early on that it was a very bad wound because blood was literally pouring from the man’s belly as an artery had been pierced. The young lord fell to the floor, howling, as he bled out all over the floor. His guards, distressed and injured themselves, yelled for help, calling for rags or moss or anything to stop the blood flow. Chaos ensued.
As the occupants of the tavern began to run about, some bolting for the door, Kevin quickly sheathed his sword and turned to his companions.
“We leave,” he said, swiftly collecting his saddlebags from the tabletop. “
Now
.”
Adonis and Thomas knew that tone; it wasn’t meant to be disobeyed or questioned. Somehow, they often found themselves escaping volatile situations because Kevin truly didn’t fight for the pleasure of it. He fought because it needed to be done. Now, he saw no need to remain in a tavern that was quickly deteriorating into pandemonium and, more than likely, more violence because of the viscount’s death because his guards would seek vengeance for their foolish and immature lord. It would be their duty. Therefore, it was time once again to flee.
Onward to London and an audience with the king.
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