To the Lady Born (25 page)

The party slowed down when they came to a crossroads near the tournament field, mostly because the parties in front of them were backed up as stewards recorded their arrival and then directed them to an area where they could camp. There were great clusters of smiths plying their trades, conducting business in the middle of the road. There were also vendors setting up, including a man with a little monkey.  Colton saw the monkey and he began to scream.

The screaming brought his mother’s attention. Amalie’s head popped out of the cab at the sound of her son. “West?” she called.  “What is Colton’s trouble?”

Weston watched his screaming son; the lad was pointing at the man with the monkey and Weston reined his charger back near the carriage.

“He wants that little beast, I believe,” he indicated the white-bearded monkey several feet away. “See it over there? The little monkey?”

Amalie’s gaze fell on the little creature as Colton nearly came apart.  His screaming filled the air and was attracting attention.  Frustrated and sick, she jerked open the door of the cab and stepped down into the street below.  Weston made an attempt to offer his assistance but she pushed past his big blond charger and made her way to Sutton.  As Colton screamed and kicked, she held up her arms.

“Give him to me, Sutton,” she instructed.

Sutton obediently handed down the boy, all kicking feet and screaming mouth. Amalie was stern with the boy.

“Colton,” she said firmly. “You will cease this behavior at once. If you continue to scream, I will not let you see the monkey. Do you understand?”

Colton stopped instantly, looking at his mother with his big, dark blue eyes. He looked so much like his father that it was frightening at times. Then he began to cry, laying his head on her shoulder as if she had just broken his heart.  Amalie rocked him gently as she walked over to the man with the monkey.

The man was older, clad in strange and colorful clothing that was not from England, and very eager to show off his little pet. He had trained the little beast to do tricks for the few coins it would bring.  Amalie held her suddenly-shy son on her hip, his head on her shoulder as she pointed to the monkey.

“Look, Colton,” she said, pointing. “He is smiling at you.”

The little monkey flashed his big-teeth monkey smile, removing his tiny little hat.  As the old man prompted him, the monkey inched over towards Colton, who quickly forgot his tears and his sudden shyness. He was very interested as the monkey approached. Amalie held out a hand to the little creature, who grabbed on to her fingers much to Colton’s delight.  Then Colton wanted to pet the monkey, who grabbed on to his little fingers as well.  Colton laughed happily and the monkey, frightened, scooted back to its master.

It was noisy, smelly and dusty. Traffic was so backed up that they were virtually at a standstill on the busy avenue, but Weston didn’t mind; he was enjoying watching his wife and son play with the monkey.  Aubria, who had been asleep in her grandmother’s arms inside the cab, had awoken and was now being helped out of the carriage by Elizabeth.

Weston watched as his mother took Aubria protectively in-hand and escorted her over to where her brother was playing with the monkey. After a minute or so of laughing at the monkey, now doing tricks on its master’s arm, Aubria predictably turned to her father.

“Dada?” she pointed at the monkey. “Can I please have him?”

Weston wasn’t any good at denying his daughter whatever her little heart desired.  But the expression on Amalie’s face naturally cautioned him.

“I do not think so, my angel,” he said.  “He must stay with his master.”

Aubria’s lovely little features molded into a pout. “But I
love
him, Dada,” she insisted. “Can I please have him?”

With a heavy sigh, Weston climbed off the charger. This wasn’t an argument he was going to win on the back of a horse.  As he made his way to his daughter and tried to explain to her why she couldn’t have the monkey, Sutton sat atop his destrier and grinned. Between Colton screaming for the monkey and Aubria’s unhappy tears, Weston had his hands full and Sutton thought it was all great fun. 

He was having a good time at his brother’s expense until he looked over his shoulder at the traffic backing up on the crossroads and caught sight of the Clifford banners back in the pack. He flew into panic mode and bailed off his charger.

“She is here,” he hissed at Amalie and Weston.  He jabbed a gloved finger at the traffic backing up towards the east. “That is her father’s banners.”

Amalie was particularly interested as she turned to gain a better look. But that took Colton away from his monkey so she handed the boy over to Weston, who was crouched down next to his sobbing daughter.  Leaving Weston with two weeping children, Amalie and Sutton moved towards the edge of the avenue where there was a better vantage point. 

“See?” Sutton pointed to the green and yellow Clifford banners. “Right there; that is her father’s party. The green and yellow standards.”

Amalie spied the rather large group.  From what she could see, there was no carriage or wagon, but she could see at least two small palfreys among the war horses.  They were difficult to make out with all of the people and clutter in the way. 

“Were you formally introduced to her, Sutton?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Aye,” he said. “At grandfather’s funeral. But her father would not let me speak with her beyond the short introduction.”

Amalie’s gaze was on the party in the distance; in truth, they were not too far away but there were gangs of people and horses between them. 

“Does your mother know Lord Clifford?” she asked.

Sutton nodded. “She does. He and my grandfather were friends.”

Amalie pondered that information for a moment before turning on her heel and making her way back to Weston.  He was still crouched on the ground with Aubria in one big arm and Colton in the other.  The little monkey was on the ground in front of them, doing somersaults, and the children were laughing loudly as their tears were forgotten.  As Amalie approached, Weston stood up to meet her but she wasn’t focused on him. She was focused on Lady Elizabeth.

“My lady?” she reached out, taking Elizabeth’s hand gently. “I have need of you.”

Elizabeth had been standing next to Weston, watching her joyful grandchildren with a big smile on her face.  But seeing that Amalie had need of her prompted the woman into action and she willingly went along.  As Amalie and Elizabeth began to walk away, Sutton followed. But Amalie stopped him.

“You stay with Weston and mind the children,” she told him. “Your mother and I shall return shortly.”

Baffled, Sutton watched the women head off towards the traffic in the crossroads.  He could see that they were in deep conversation, looking towards the Clifford banners and gesturing. Weston, curious, stood beside his brother and watched as his wife and mother made their way through groups of people and horses, heading off towards several parked parties on the road to the east.  They weren’t very far away, certainly not far enough away that Weston could not get to them immediately if necessary, so he let them go. But his features were folded into a frown.

“Where are they going?” he demanded.

Sutton had a good idea. “I believe they are going to greet Lord Clifford and his lovely daughter.”

Weston pursed his lips wryly and shook his head, turning around when he heard his daughter squeal to see that she was now holding the monkey in her arms.  Colton was jumping up and down beside her and laughing.  Weston’s wry expression turned into a smile at the sight.

“If Ammy has anything to say about this, you shall be a betrothed man by sunset,” he said as he moved back to his delighted children.  “I would be prepared to enter into negotiations if I were you.”

Sutton stood and watched his mother and sister-in-law as they approached the Clifford party and he clearly saw when Lord Clifford climbed off his horse and bowed gallantly before them.  He could see Amalie talking, gesturing with her pretty hands, and soon enough, Paget appeared on one of the palfreys from back in the column.  The young woman was dressed in bright blue, a stunning color, as she climbed off her palfrey and joined the conversation.

Sutton’s heart was doing strange things as he watched the scene. Paget was more beautiful than he remembered and it was all he could do to keep from running over to the woman and announcing himself. But he kept his cool, watching and waiting for Amalie to do her magic.
You shall be a betrothed man by sunset. 

He sincerely hoped so.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Lady Paget Gloriana de Clifford was the exquisite beauty that Sutton had described.  A small woman thing with big brown eyes, silky brown hair and a big, beautiful smile, Amalie liked her right away.  She had a silly giggle that suited her and was quick to laugh.

Within the first few minutes of meeting her, Amalie knew she had made a friend simply by the way she and Paget were easily able to communicate.  The young woman was very friendly and seemingly quite bright. But also within the first few minutes of meeting, a bit of bad news was delivered.

Lord Clifford was apparently intending to enter into marriage negotiations with one of the barons who would be attending the tournament and had brought his daughter along so that the prospective groom could get a look at her. Paget didn’t seem particularly happy but she wouldn’t go against her father.  Still, Amalie could sense that the woman remembered Sutton from their brief meeting.  She could see the interest in the woman’s eyes when they spoke of him.

So Amalie went on the offensive and threw all of her family’s power behind her pitch on Sutton’s behalf; a few well-placed names, including the fact that her brother had been the Duke of Ireland, and Lord Clifford suddenly seemed very interested in Sutton de Royans. 

The de Veres were very well known in England, with a huge foothold in Ireland, and much more prestigious than a mere baron. Amalie made sure that Lord Clifford understood their importance.  She didn’t know if Sutton had any property and a glance at Elizabeth showed the woman to be negatively shaking her head when the subject came up, so Amalie assured Lord Clifford that Sutton de Royans was not only related to the powerful de Veres but that he was also due to inherit titles and property that would make him a very wealthy man. No mere baron could compete with the massive barony of Ulster, which Amalie would inherit from her mother. Somehow in the conversation, it ended up belonging to Sutton.

As she told Lord Clifford about the rich lands of Ulster that Sutton would rule over, she wasn’t at all upset that she had just handed over her inheritance.  She had Weston and her children, and they had a wonderful life together. Nothing could make her life any sweeter than it was and especially not an Irish baronetcy that had historically been a troubled land. But the rich lands would be perfect for Sutton and Paget, embarking on a new life and establishing their own family. At least, she hoped so. She could see that Lord Clifford agreed.

Extracting a promise from Lord Clifford that would allow Paget and Sutton to spend some time together during the tournament, Amalie waved farewell to Paget as Lord Clifford’s party moved off into the vast area that was designated as an encampment site for tournament participants. 

In fact, most of the traffic was starting to thin out so Amalie and Elizabeth made their way back to the de Royans party which now waited patiently for them as others moved past. Amalie couldn’t wait to tell Sutton the good news. But as the women crossed the last few feet towards their party, a charge of war horses nearly ran them down.

Amalie had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over by three bachelor knights heading towards the tournament grounds. They pulled to a halt at the last minute as Amalie picked herself up off the ground, chastising her on her carelessness until they got a good look at her beauty. Then, their tone changed dramatically and as one young knight tried desperately to woo her, Weston marched up and yanked the man off his charger.

Amalie shrieked with fright as Weston pounded the hapless fool with his huge fists.  His friends saw that their comrade was being beaten by an enormous knight so they jumped off their chargers and went to assist, but Sutton and John intercepted them and a nasty fight ensued.  Soon, the men at arms got involved and shortly, a brutal street brawl spread throughout the avenue, spilling into different competing houses as men began to throw punches simply because punches had been thrown at them. 

Amalie and Elizabeth raced to the carriage to get out of the line of fire. Amalie opened the door and ushered Elizabeth in but she didn’t follow. As Elizabeth sat down and fearfully pulled the children onto her lap, Amalie peered around the side of the carriage to see what was going on. 

Weston had apparently knocked out the knight who had nearly run her over, as the man lay motionless in the street, and was now pulling Sutton and John away from brutalizing a pair of young knights. As Amalie watched, Heath suddenly appeared in the melee and began banging men on their helms with the butt of his sword, sending them crashing to the ground. He was having great fun with it, all of this as he held a sack of licorice root in his left hand.

It was chaotic and messy. The fight began breaking up as men, dazed and beaten, wandered back to where they belonged, including the thirty men at arms who had accompanied the de Royans party from Netherghyll.  Weston and Sutton suddenly emerged from the disbanding group, laughing and joking with each other as if they had just come from a party.

There wasn’t a mark on either of them. Amalie stood near the carriage, her mouth hanging open at the sight. She had no idea why they were so happy when men were scattered all over the road as a result of their fists. Weston went to her, pulled her to him and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

“Are you all right, my angel?” he asked.

She looked back at him with some shock. “I am fine. Are you…?”

He cut her off. “You did not hurt yourself when you fell?”

She shook her head. “Not at all,” she replied. “Certainly not enough for you to beat that knight senseless.”

Weston just shrugged and turned her back for the carriage. “Get in,” he told her. “We are moving on to the encampment area so we can set up the tents.”

Amalie watched Sutton mount his charger and move off towards the tournament arena. “Where is he going?” she wanted to know.

Weston shut the cab door behind her. “To deliver our patins,” he told her. “He shall return shortly.”

“Good,” Amalie regarded her husband for a moment, a knowing expression on her face. “I have much to tell him.”

Weston lifted an eyebrow with interest. “Truly? What is that?”

She smirked victoriously. “Lord Clifford will allow him to speak to Lady Paget,” she said, excitement in her tone. “But… well, I had to lie a bit to accomplish this.”

He grinned. “What in the world could you lie about?”

“I said that Sutton would inherit title and property.”

Weston shook his head. “Then Lord Clifford is in for a big disappointment. We must hurry and marry Sutton to Lady Paget before her father finds out.”

Amalie began to look less excited and more hesitant. “But it is not entirely a lie, West.”

“Aye, it is. Sutton has no inheritance.”

“But I do,” she said softly. “I will gift my inheritance to Sutton and he and Lady Paget can live happy and wealthy.”

Weston cocked his head. “What inheritance is that?”

She shrugged, averting her gaze somewhat. “You have your great inheritance, West, so I saw no harm in gifting Sutton with mine,” she said softly, looking to him again. “It makes no difference to me but to Sutton, it will be a great deal.”

“You still have not told me what inheritance. In fact, I did not even know you had one. You never told me.”

“You never asked,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “I thought I was prize enough.”

His grin returned. “Of course you are. But I would still like to know what I am giving up.”

She laughed softly. “I have inherited the barony of Ulster through my mother’s Irish holdings,” she told him.  “It is a large holding to the north of Ireland with fairly rich lands. I will gift it to Sutton. The hereditary title is Baron Tirone.”

Weston stared at her a moment before lifting his eyebrows in surprise. “Ulster?” he repeated. “And you are just telling me this now?”

“It never came up.”

Now his brow was furrowed. “I am not entirely sure I want to give this up.”

She pursed her lips impatiently. “Your brother has nothing, West. You have everything. Are you truly so selfish?”

He wasn’t entirely serious about not wanting to give up her inheritance but he made a good show at it. “I may want to have a piece of it.”

“Then we shall negotiate that when I gift Sutton with the property so that he may marry Lady Paget.”

The truth was that he was very pleased and deeply touched with Amalie’s generosity and he knew Sutton would be positively thrilled.  It was an amazing gesture of graciousness on Amalie’s part and he reached into the cab, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.  He smiled at her as their eyes met.

“I already have the best part of it,” he murmured.

She grinned at him. “What is that?”

“I have the heiress.”

She laughed softly as he kissed her hand one last time and turned for his charger.  Amalie’s heart swelled with pride and love as she watched him mount his charger and soon the carriage began to lurch forward.  Onward they went into the vast area that was designated for the competitor’s encampment.

***

The tents were old, having belonged to his grandfather, but were in exceptionally good shape for their age; Weston simply had not had the time to get new ones made. The beautiful colors of blue and silver glistened weakly in the sun from the three massive tents that comprised Baron Cononley’s encampment and Weston was very proud of his brilliant display

After settling in at the competitor’s encampment and setting up beneath a massive oak tree, several stewards came around to announce that there was to be a meeting of all competitors at sundown.  Sutton still hadn’t returned from delivering their patins so Weston spent his time inspecting his joust equipment before submitting to his squire and a smithy as they tried to fix the broken link on his breastplate that had snapped on the trip from Netherghyll.

It was early afternoon as Weston stood in the largest tent as they worked on his armor. As he stood with his arms lifted, his focus was on Amalie and the children a few feet away. Amalie was trying to fix a small tear in Colton’s little breeches but the boy didn’t want to cooperate.

In fact, the boy was throwing himself down on the ground in a fit as Aubria tugged at her mother’s sleeve and whined about being hungry. Amalie was very patient with the pair, telling her daughter to wait a moment as she struggled with Colton.  But Aubria grew frustrated and weepy, turning to stomp away from her mother but getting her legs swept out from under her by her thrashing brother.  Aubria fell down on Colton’s face and both children began screaming.

Weston broke from his still stance, moving to sweep Aubria up off her of her brother and chase away her tears. He kissed her and hugged her, and she was happy. Amalie finished with the small stitch in her son’s breeches and she pulled him to his feet, gently soothing his tears.  Colton felt that his nose was irreparably damaged by his sister’s fall but Amalie assured her son that his nose was fine.  She finally picked him up, her hand on his little head as she kissed his cheek sweetly.  Just as she moved over to where Weston was standing, Sutton suddenly entered the tent.

Amalie glanced at her brother-in-law but didn’t give him a second thought as she took Aubria from her father.  Sutton, however, was intensely fixed on his brother. He didn’t even respond when Colton began crying for him.

“I need a word with you,” he said to Weston. “Now. Outside.”

Weston looked at the man, catching something in his tone but not particularly concerned with it.  He moved past his wife and children, patting Colton on the head as he went.  He followed Sutton outside into the cool afternoon.

Sutton pulled him several feet away from the tent before stopping.  Weston fussed with the strap that the squire had just fixed as he came to a halt beneath a big, gnarled oak.

“What is …?” Weston began.

Sutton cut him off before he could even get the question out of his mouth. “Sorrell is here,” he said.

Weston stopped fussing with the strap and looked at his brother, his dark blue eyes widening. “What?” he hissed. “Did you see him?”

Sutton nodded, looking rather ill. “I did,” he blew out his cheeks heavily. “Remember I told you that I had heard that he had been sent north? The rumors were correct; he was sent to Billingham. He is here with a contingent of knights from Billingham Castle.”

“Billingham is an ally of Bolingbroke.”

“Exactly.”

Weston stared at him. Sutton watched, concerned, as the color seemed to drain out of his brother’s face.  Weston held Sutton’s gaze for several long and painful moments before turning away to compose himself.  He dragged his hand over his face, laboring with every breath to maintain his control.

“Sweet Jesus,” he hissed. “Is it really possible?”

Sutton nodded. “I thought you should know. I came as soon as I saw him.”

Weston was feeling sick.  His thoughts immediately moved to Amalie and the terror she would undoubtedly experience when she discovered Sorrell’s attendance. Even Weston’s calm and loving presence couldn’t chase away the horrors that would be awakened, reminding her of an act so brutal that it changed the course of her life. But even as Weston’s heart hurt for Amalie, he was swept with fury so blinding that the blood suddenly rushed back into his head and his cheeks turned red. All he could think about was vengeance and pure, unadulterated murder. He whirled on his brother.