Lord of War: Black Angel (27 page)

“My lord,” he greeted Brandt smartly, acknowledging Ellowyn with a nod. “My father sends his greetings and his support. I have brought six hundred and six men from Wrexham to support Edward’s efforts in France.”

Brandt passed a practiced eye over the group. “Good men,” he commented. “Seasoned. I can tell by their clothing and weapons.”

Brennan nodded. “He kept most of the green troops with him and sent his more seasoned soldiers to you,” he said. “My father said you would need them more than he does.”

Brandt smirked. “Your father is a wise and gracious man,” he replied. “I am sorry I did not get a chance to visit with him. Is he well?”

Brennan nodded. “Well enough,” he said. “My sister has just given birth to her third child, another boy, and he is understandably thrilled. It was all he could speak of.”

“And you mother and brother?”

Brennan grinned. “My mother is doing very well,” he said. “She sends her regards and is verily pleased to hear that you married.  She says to tell you that it is about time.”

Brandt laughed softly. “Your mother was never one to mince words.”

Brennan shook his head. “Nay, she is not,” he said. “My brother, Evan, is doing well and is in his last year fostering at Culpepper Castle. My father says he is bigger and smarter than I am.”

“If he is anywhere close to the caliber of knight you are, then I will demand he swear fealty to me.”

“My father says he is already in demand.”

Brandt cocked an eyebrow. “I will fight for him if I have to.”

“No one will fight you, my lord. You are too frightening.”

Brandt was back to smirking, glancing at Ellowyn as she grinned at Brennan.
Is she looking adoringly at him?
He suddenly thought, startled by his uncontrolled notion.
Oh, God, I am surely going mad to give regard to such things!

“My lady wife and I will expect to hear all about your travels,” he said, trying to stay neutral and normal. “Get the men settled and we shall see you at supper.”

Brennan nodded, having no idea what thoughts were crossing Brandt’s mind.  He turned to Ellowyn as Brandt grasped her elbow.

“My mother has sent you a wedding gift,” he said. “Shall I bring it to you now?”

Ellowyn was thrilled and touched. “Did she truly?” she said. “Oh, please bring it to me now.”

“You have enough finery and gifts from your shopping this afternoon,” Brandt said in a nearly scolding tone. “Allow Brennan to finish his duties. He shall bring you your gift at supper.”

Ellowyn’s mood wasn’t dampened in the least. She shrugged, waved at Brennan, and allowed Brandt to lead her off.   As they approached the steps leading up the motte, she turned to him.

“What do you suppose Lady St. Hèver  has sent me?” she asked. “She does not even know me. ‘Tis a terribly kind gesture.”

Brandt nodded, pushing down remnants of his jealousy.  He didn’t like feeling that way, especially when there was no good reason.  Was it a territorial thing? Ellowyn belonged to him and he was extremely protective over her. Was it the fact that she was showing friendliness towards another man, even someone as good and moral as Brennan?  Brandt didn’t know but he didn’t like it.  Ellowyn made him feel so many things, among them insecurity.  She was such a glorious creature and he actually felt insecure with her, as if he wasn’t great enough to hold her attention. He’d never known jealousy or uncertainty in his life and it was a struggle to push it all aside.

“She is a kind woman,” he said. “In fact, she reminds me a great deal of you.”

“Why?”

“Because she is feisty and speaks her mind,” he said. “The woman rules her house and hold with an iron fist. No one goes against Lady St. Hèver and lives to tell the tale.”

Ellowyn wound her hands around his forearm, gazing sweetly up at him. “Am I feisty?”

“You are indeed.”

“Most men do not like that quality in a woman.”

“I am not most men.”

She laughed softly as they began to take the terrible steps.  In fact, she held on to Brandt tightly as they mounted them.  She was careful to watch her feet as she climbed.

“Brandt,” she said, picking up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip. “Do you think we can put some kind of a rope or rail along these stairs? I am always afraid I am going to break my neck on them.”

He looked at the steps, at the slope. “If it would make you comfortable.”

“It would.”

“Then it shall be done.”

Happy, she continued to hold on to him tightly as they proceeded up the steps.  They were nearly to the top when a shout from below caught their attention.  They turned to see Dylan waving a hand at them, taking the steps very quickly.

“What is it?” Brandt asked as the man drew close.

Dylan was focused intently on him. “Reports, my lord,” he said. “Our patrols are telling us that they have sighted an army about three leagues out. It is a big army, my lord, and unlikely that it is my brother.”

“Colors?”

“He could not see, but he thought green and yellow.”

Brandt knew who it was without another word. “De Nerra,” he muttered, somewhat agitated. “St. Hèver  just brought six hundred men into the fold not two hours ago. Why did he not see this army on his tail?”

“Because Brennan came in from the westerly road,” Dylan said. “This army is coming in from the north, well shielded in the vales.”

Brandt’s jaw ticked, irritated, but he accepted the explanation. Brennan was an excellent knight and very astute; he would not have missed something like this.
Am I trying to find fault with the man now?
Brandt shrugged off the thought.

“Then mobilize the men,” he commanded. “De Nerra has finally caught up to us. Lock down the castle.  All men to their posts.  Put St. Hèver ’s men on the walls as well; get everyone out of the bailey. And roll out the mangonels.”

Dylan was already on the move, calmly and efficiently.  Ellowyn watched him go, apprehension in her heart as she turned to her husband.

“So he has come,” she said softly. “We have been so peaceful and happy the last few days… I had forgotten. I was hoping he would not come at all.”

Brandt patted her hand. “I did not forget and I knew he would come,” he said quietly. “It was simply a matter of when.  If a man took my daughter, I would chase him down as well.”

She looked up at him, his handsome face in the sunlight. “If it is my father,” she said, “please let me speak with him. I will tell him we are married and that he will have to accept it.”

Brandt began to lead her up the last few steps to the top of the motte.  His manner was very composed. “You are going to stay safely bottled up in the keep.”

She held on to him as he took her to the top before releasing him. “Please, Brandt,” she begged quietly. “My father will listen to me.”

Brandt cupped her sweet face and kissed her on the mouth.  “For now, I want you in the keep,” he reiterated. “If your father starts a battle right away, I do not want to chance you getting injured.  If I need you, or if there is the opportunity for you to speak with your father, I will come for you. Do you understand?”

She was unhappy but she nodded her head. “But I am sure that I can….”

He cut her off with another kiss and took her hand, nearly dragging her to the keep. “What did I tell you earlier when we discussed your father and his need to regain you, Wynny? What did I say?”

She pouted as he pulled her along.  “I do not know.”

“Aye, you do. I told you it was a matter of honor. This is no longer about you; it is about your father and his damaged pride.”

She didn’t like being dragged and dug her feet in. “But you do not know how to deal with him,” she insisted. “I do. You must let me speak with him.”

He dragged her all the way to the keep entry.   She yanked her hands free, facing him somewhat angrily.

“Do you hear me?” she demanded. “You must let me speak with him,”

He put his hands on his hips. “I hear you,” he said steadily. “But you will hear me or you will feel the sting of my hand to your backside. You will go into the keep and bolt the door. Do not open it for anyone but me or my knights.  When I see how the winds of war are blowing with your father, I will return to you, but for now, I want you safe where I do not have to worry over you. Is that clear?”

She sighed angrily, suspecting he wasn’t going to give in to her demands this time, and she had no doubt he would do as he said. She had no desire to be spanked by him. So she stomped past him, up the steps into the keep, and slammed the door.  Brandt grinned as he heard her throw the bolt.

With a chuckle, he proceeded down to the bailey of Guildford where his army was in the throes of mobilizing.

It was going to be a very long night.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Deston de Nerra hadn’t gone on a battle march with his troops in almost twelve years. His failing health and diseased joints had seen to that, crippling him to the point of inactivity. But this march was different; Ellowyn had been abducted as far as he was concerned and he would regain her no matter what the cost. She was the only child he had left that was worth anything, so he would stop at nothing to regain her. Not even his mother could stop him.

Aye, she had confessed her role in Ellowyn’s abduction. Lady Gray was not one to lie or shy from her responsibilities, and she had confessed everything the day after de Russe’s army fled with Ellowyn as their prize.  Gray had spent the entire day discussing the situation with her son and trying to convince him that Ellowyn and Brandt were better off together, but Deston would not listen. He wanted his daughter home, with him, and not as the concubine of the Black Angel. It seemed that de Russe’s reputation was all he was fixated on.   Brandt de Russe ceased to be an alliance that Deston was proud of and became instead an obsession for his shame.  The obsession grew worse by the hour.

So he scrambled his army in spite of his mother’s protests and departed four days after Ellowyn’s abduction. He had also sent word ahead to an allied lord for troop reinforcements; Gareth le Mon of Clun Castle had been allied with Deston’s father, so the man provided an additional four hundred men to Deston.  They were waiting for him on the road as he traveled south, and with the blended de Nerra and le Mon armies there were almost fifteen hundred men. It was a sizable force.

Deston and le Mon’s son, Dallan le Mon, drove the big army south.  Dallan had seen his twenty-seventh year and was married with one child and another child on the way, and wasn’t particularly happy to be on a vengeance mission.  He was a big, handsome man with a quick wit about him, and Deston took to him fairly quickly.  He was always attaching himself to men that were his son’s age as if they were surrogate replacements.

Dallan knew the basic reason behind their march to Guildford Castle but he had shown extreme reluctance to lay siege to the Duke of Exeter. Everyone knew the man was the Black Angel and Dallan had argued with his father endlessly over attacking a man who was part of a larger war machine.

Ultimately, Gareth had committed resources to Deston’s cause so Dallan went along to make sure Deston, the emotional father, wasn’t too reckless with his actions.  Dallan didn’t want to lose more men than was absolutely necessary.

Guildford Castle was a massively formidable bastion.  Deston had never seen it, and neither had Dallan, so laying eyes upon the soaring walls and massive motte of the fortress set them both back a bit.  There were moats within moats, walls within walls, and everything about it reeked of power.   

From a distance, Deston and Dallan had observed the soaring gray-stoned walls of the keep and the curtain wall that had to be at least four times a man’s height.  Nearing sunset, the golden rays of the sun warmed the stone, creating an almost glowing effect.   The gates were closed and men were upon the walls, watching them suspiciously. The scent of battle was in the air, making them all edgy.  Dallan finally turned to Deston.

“What will you do, my lord?” he asked, rather ironically. “Shall we burn it down now or wait until the morning?”

It was a sarcastic question, one that had Deston casting the man a withering glare.  He hadn’t expected Guildford Castle to present such a difficult target.  In pain, exhausted, he shook his head irritably.

“Settle the men,” he barked. “I will speak with de Russe before this night is out. Perhaps he will understand the folly of what he has done and we can come to an agreement.”

Dallan was coming to think this truly was a fool’s venture, served by the pride of an embittered old man. He reined his horse around, shouting orders to the men as he thundered back into the column and leaving Deston alone, staring at the soaring walls of Guildford and wondering if he would ever see his daughter again.

***

“He wishes to speak with you, my lord.”

Brandt heard the quiet statement.  Seated in his solar on the first level of Guildford’s keep, he glanced up at Dylan, standing in the doorway.  Torchlight flickered and the glow from the burning hearth cast shadows all around the room.  Sitting up from where he had been hunched over a well-worn map of England exquisitely etched on vellum, he stretched out his big legs.

“Who does?”

“De Nerra, my lord.”

Brandt paused before replying. “De Nerra has brought a sizable army with him.”

“He is reinforced with troops from the Lords of Clun.  His messenger was more than happy to inform us of that.”

Brandt thought on that a moment, folding his big arms across his chest.  As he pondered the offer, the situation in general, the fire snapped softly and one of the dogs left behind by Arundel wandered over for a pet.  Brandt, being rather fond of dogs, obliged the lanky, hairy beast.  He stroked the dog pensively.

“Greetings, Dylan,” Ellowyn said, interrupting the silence.  She came off the narrow spiral stairs with a cloak or blanket of some sort in her arms and headed for one of the chairs near Brandt. “Any vital news to report from the war front?”

It was a rather quippy question, one that had Dylan giving her a half-grin. “Nothing of note, my lady,” he said, eyeing Brandt. “I have simply come to relay a message to your husband.”