De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (17 page)

“Can I talk you into selling me your stud?” he asked. “I have a beautiful roan mare that would breed spectacular animals from him.”

Kenton shook his head firmly. “That stallion is closer to me than a brother,” he said. “I would sooner cut off my right hand than sell the beast.”

Wellesbourne shrugged. “It was worth a try,” he said. “Mayhap you will permit me to breed my mare to him, anyway. We shall breed them twice and each take a result.”

Kenton cocked his head thoughtfully. “I would consider that,” he said. “But I will get the first offspring.”

Matthew chuckled. “Agreed,” he said. “My mare is at Wellesbourne Castle so at some point, we will need to take your stud to Wellesbourne to accomplish this great task.”

Kenton simply nodded, looking between Wellesbourne and de Russe, who had thus far remained silent. That wasn’t unusual with Gaston, however. The man didn’t speak much. Kenton’s gaze lingered on the pair.

“I understand you two wish to speak with me,” he said. “Shall we go inside the keep or do you wish to speak to me here?”

Wellesbourne immediately moved for the keep. “Inside,” he said. “The smoke in the ward is burning my eyes to cinder. If I remain out here any longer, I shall go blind.”

Kenton nodded silently but suspected that wasn’t the only reason they wanted to move inside. It was much more private in there, away from the ears of the soldiers, and he sensed that Wellesbourne wanted that privacy. It made him very curious as to what, exactly, Wellesbourne and de Russe wished to speak with him about. His curiosity grew to epic proportions, so much so that by the time they reached the solar inside the keep of Babylon, they were barely inside the room when Kenton came to a halt and turned to them. He was out of patience.

“What is this about?” he nearly demanded. “What is so important that we had to come where it was private to discuss it?”

Matthew kept his gaze on Kenton even though Gaston cast Matthew a long look. As the knight known as The Dark One moved for the pitcher of wine that was over near the cluttered table, Matthew didn’t keep Kenton waiting. It was clear that the man was impatient, which already put the conversation on edge before it even started.

“Matters of Warwick, my lord,” Matthew said evenly. “The last we were told, you were to be planning the acquisition of Rochdale and Manchester for Henry. We have been at Babylon over a week and have not heard of these plans yet. We would like to offer to help you with the planning if you have not already done so.”

It was a very polite way of asking Kenton if he’d moved forward with obeying Warwick’s directives. Kenton knew that; he knew it very well. Wellesbourne was asking it in the kindest way possible – there were no accusations or condemnation that plans which should have been made, or at least discussed, days ago had not yet even been considered.

Even so, Kenton could already feel guilt creeping into his veins. He felt defensive. These seasoned knights knew he had orders and they further knew he hadn’t done anything about them. They would have been fools not to have figured out why he hadn’t acted on anything yet, and these men were no fools. It was then that Kenton began to realize that every knight under his command must have known his distraction with Lady Thorne. There was no way they could not have known. He’d been far too obvious about it, even careless about it.

Wellesbourne’s question should have come along much sooner than it had. Kenton, struggling to know what to feel about the query and the reasons behind it, turned for the messy table that held maps and parchment and other implements that a warring commander needed to carry out orders. That
he
needed to carry out orders. Orders he had, for the past week, soundly ignored.

“The truth is that I have not considered any plans to march on Rochdale or Manchester yet,” he said, sighing. It was the truth. “My priority has been to ensure the men inside the castle were fed and there was some semblance of a military installation formed. One cannot launch attacks if one’s men are not well fed or even well rested. Most of the men within these walls have been fighting battles for the better part of six months, me included. A few days rest for them has been the priority. Has that not occurred to you?”

Matthew shook his head. “It has not,” he admitted. “I suppose that is why you are the commander and we are not. You are correct in that they need food and rest. Forgive me for questioning your methods, le Bec. We were only offering to assist if you needed it.”

Kenton couldn’t get too angry about it although he knew that wasn’t entirely the truth. “Is it?” he asked, cocking a doubtful eyebrow. “This would not have anything to do with the time I have spent with Lady Thorne, would it?”

Wellesbourne lifted his eyebrows, unwilling to answer, as he turned to glance at de Russe, who was already halfway in to a full cup of wine. De Russe noticed that Wellesbourne was looking at him, perhaps seeking some support for their actions. Even if Wellesbourne was unwilling to answer, perhaps trying to be tactful, de Russe had no such compunction. The man was candid to a fault.

“It does,” de Russe said bluntly. “You have spent a great deal of time with a woman who is your captive. Le Bec, your motives are your own. We will not question what you do with the woman. But should Warwick catch wind of your attention towards her, and should he also catch wind of the fact that you have not yet moved against Rochdale or Manchester, he might make it difficult for you.”

It was a very honest answer and Kenton was well aware. His jaw ticked, thinking on his reply, but it was Conor who made the first move. He put himself between Kenton and de Russe, glaring at de Russe as Kenton had not seen the man glare, ever. The big, red-haired knight’s nostrils flared as he faced down de Russe.

“You are not in command, de Russe,” he growled. “Kenton le Bec is in charge of Babylon and of the western road, and you will not question the man in any fashion.”

Gaston was at least a head and a half taller than Conor. Compared to the men around him, and they were all big men, de Russe was a giant. His smoke-colored eyes narrowed at de Birmingham.

“Someone has to question him since you and your comrades have not had the courage to do so,” he said, slandering Conor’s bravery in the first strike of their verbal battle. “Everyone at Babylon knows that le Bec is interested in Lady Thorne. He makes it obvious every single day, but soon that interest and his lack of action in carrying out Warwick’s orders is going to get back to Warwick and we are all going to be in trouble because of it. Did that not occur to you?”

Conor was balling a fist which almost always preceded him throwing a punch. Against de Russe, that would be suicide. Conor was an excellent knight but simply by sheer size and strength alone, de Russe could quite easily harm him. Kenton, knowing this, stepped around the table and quickly put himself between the pair.

“Conor, go and summon Gerik and Ackerley,” he said quietly. “Go, now. Bring them here. We must all discuss this.”

Conor’s cheeks were flushed with rage. “But….”

“Carry out my order. I will not tell you again.”

Conor was having great difficulty complying but, ultimately, he was an obedient knight. He had never refused an order from Kenton and he wasn’t going to start now. Glaring daggers at de Russe, he quit the solar to carry out Kenton’s order. When the knight was gone, Kenton turned to de Russe.

“He is as fast as lightning,” he said in a low voice. “You may crush him in the end, but you would not come away undamaged. If I hear that you two have battled it out, I will send you away. Is that clear?”

De Russe nodded, unimpressed by Kenton’s assessment of de Birmingham’s skills. “It is,” he said. “But if he strikes first, I will defend myself.”

“Understood,” Kenton replied, his gaze lingering on the big and mighty de Russe. “Did it ever occur to you and Wellesbourne that I have spent time with Lady Thorne for reasons other than bedding the woman, which I’ve not done in any case?”

De Russe shook his head faintly as Kenton looked to Wellesbourne. “Did it occur to you?”

Matthew shook his head. “I am not entirely sure what you mean.”

Kenton lifted his eyebrows and moved away from the pair. “You two are very young,” he said, heading back to the cluttered table. “Wellesbourne, how old are you?”

“I have seen twenty-two years in August,” Matthew replied. He jabbed a thumb in Gaston’s direction. “He saw twenty-two years in April.”

Kenton’s focus moved between them. “Twenty-two years,” he muttered. “You both make me feel very old at nearly forty years. But the point is that I have seen much more than you have in my lifetime. There is more to winning a war than simply overpowering castles and laying siege to cities. Sometimes the mental aspect of war is far more critical.”

Matthew crossed his big arms curiously. “What do you mean?”

Kenton pulled up a stool and sat next to the table. “You must win minds over more than bodies,” he said. “Lady Thorne was married to Gaylord Thorne, an enemy of Henry, for many years. She knows his allies and mayhap she even knows what they have discussed. There could be treachery afoot that I do not know about. I cannot beat any information out of the woman. It is in my best interest to be gentle with her in order to discover what she knows. Hell, already I know that it is impossible to threaten the woman into submission. I have tried. Now, I am trying another tactic.”

It made sense. Matthew looked to Gaston, who simply poured himself another cup of wine. Matthew was beginning to feel badly about their thoughts towards Kenton, thinking the man had been off-course because of a lovely woman, but he wasn’t sure how Gaston felt about any of it because Gaston wouldn’t look at him. Gaston had great difficulty in admitting that he was wrong, in any case. Although Matthew wasn’t entirely sure that what Kenton was telling them was the entire truth, he didn’t argue with the man. He gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Then I greatly admire your wisdom,” he said to Kenton. “Forgive us if we overstepped our bounds. It was out of concern, I assure you.”

Kenton nodded, now feeling extremely guilty that he had lied to these knights. He hadn’t been doing anything of the sort with Nicola, being kind to her to extract intelligence from her, but he wanted them to think he was. Kenton paid attention to Nicola because he wanted to, pure and simple. It had nothing to do with pressing her for information because he was quite sure she didn’t know what her husband had been involved in. But for nosy young knights, he would put them in their place and lie to them. It sounded logical, logical enough that they believed him. At least, he hoped so.

“I am grateful for your concern,” he said simply. “But now that you are here, let us finally speak of the move on Rochdale and Manchester. I agree that we must move as soon as possible to claim those cities, mayhap as early as next week. The men are supplied and rested so there is no longer any reason to delay.”

Matthew nodded firmly, snapping his fingers at Gaston to join them as he moved closer to the table where Kenton was pulling forth a map of Lancashire. Gaston, downing his second cup of wine, obeyed the wordless command and moved towards the table as well. He, too, was eager to move past the uncomfortable conversation of the last few minutes. Now, they would move forward with Warwick’s orders and le Bec was doing what he had been ordered to do – plan the advancement of Henry’s cause. Matthew and Gaston were satisfied.

Conor, Gerik, and Ackerley joined them several minutes later and the six of them plunged into some serious war planning. Kenton wasn’t oblivious to Conor and Gerik and Ackerley as they glared at de Russe over Kenton’s head and, at one point, Kenton quite pointedly stepped on Conor’s toe when the man began to grumble over a suggestion from de Russe. Conor took the hint, and his injured toe, and moved away from the table. Kenton didn’t want any animosity between men who would face battle together so it was important to quell whatever hard feelings had arisen. Conor behaved himself for the rest of the day and the situation soon settled somewhat.

But the settled situation between the knights would be the only settled situation Kenton would face. He discovered that quite clearly when he entered the hall for the evening meal and quickly realized that Nicola was avoiding him. Concerned, as well as oddly hurt, he let her. He didn’t know what was wrong but he intended to find out.

When the meal was finished, he went on a hunt for the Lady of Babylon.

Tiernan’s knee was hardly worth the fuss the child put up over it. When Nicola brought the twins back to their fourth floor apartments and gently tended the child’s scraped knee, she had to shake her head over the fit the child was putting up. Janet held the boy and soothed him while Mam eased the sting of the wound and promised to bring him some treats from the kitchen. That seemed to ease Tiernan’s pain and she left him cuddling with the servant woman while she made her way down to the lower floors.

Headed down the narrow spiral stairs that led to the entry level, she passed by Raven and Liesl on their way up. It was mid-morning and the girls were carrying fresh linens and freshly baked rye bread and salty butter for the boys to eat. Nicola told them where she was going, to seek something tempting from the kitchens for Tiernan, and instructed the young women to bathe the boys while she was gone. The young women agreed and continued up the stairs, but not before Nicola saw a very big love bite on the top of Raven’s left shoulder. It then occurred to her that Liesl appeared somewhat disheveled and weary as well.

Thoughts lingering on the two young women, Nicola continued down the steps. She was trying to recollect when last she saw them. As always, they slept in her apartments and she had seen them when they had all gone to bed the night before. But this was the first time she had seen them all morning. Janet had been in the room when she’d awoken but the two younger girls had not. The love bite on Raven’s shoulder told her where the women had spent their evening.

Knights.
She had been concerned from the onset that dark and lovely Raven and impressionable Liesl would fall victim to le Bec’s men. Truth be told, she believed the girls had been bedded by some of Gaylord’s men, too, so it wasn’t simply le Bec’s knights who were using them for comfort. She’d said something to Gaylord about it, once, months ago before he died, and he had simply told her to keep her mouth shut, so she had. But with Gaylord gone and her relationship with Kenton much better than it had ever been with her husband, she intended to say something to him about it. She didn’t want bastards running around Babylon. They had enough to deal with without the added burden of children to unwed girl-servants.

Indeed, it was something to discuss with Kenton, sooner rather than later. Although she intended to head to the kitchen to see if old Hermenia had something to tempt Tiernan and cheer him up, her thoughts were lingering on Kenton and his knights. She knew he was around, somewhere nearby as he always was, and she thought to seek him out before ending up at the kitchen.

There was business on her mind but the truth was that she simply wanted to see Kenton again. Her thoughts were never far from him these days, his sweetly awkward flirtation and his kindness towards her and her boys. She was quite smitten with the man, if she were to admit such a thing, neglecting the fact that he was her captor. That word, that situation, didn’t seem to exist any longer. The days since their visit to Manchester had seen to that. Things were more wonderful at Babylon these days than they had ever been, at least as far as her happiness. For the first time in her life, she was actually happy.

With thoughts of handsome Kenton on her mind, Nicola was heading for the keep entry with the intention of looking outside for Kenton when voices from Gaylord’s solar caught her attention. The door wasn’t quite closed and there were multiple male voices coming forth. Nicola thought she heard Kenton’s voice and moved closer, timidly, wondering if she could interrupt their conversation or if she should simply wait for another time. In order to do that, she listened to a few snips of the dialogue to see if they were seriously discussing something or if they were simply talking about something inconsequential.

She soon found out.

“… was married to Gaylord Thorne, an enemy of Henry, for many years. She knows his allies and mayhap she even knows what they have discussed. There could be treachery afoot that I do not know about. I cannot beat any information out of the woman. It is in my best interest to be gentle with her in order to discover what she knows. Hell, already I know that it is impossible to threaten the woman into submission. I have tried. Now, I am trying another tactic.”

It was Kenton, discussing her with as much emotion or enthusiasm as one would discuss the enemy.
The enemy.
Stunned, Nicola moved back, away from the door, her mind reeling and her heart sinking. With Kenton’s words rolling over and over in her head, she stumbled away from the solar door, moving blindly for the entry and rushing from the keep. As she ran, she could only think of one thing –
he spoke of me as if I am nothing to him but his enemy
.

I
am
the enemy!

In a humiliated daze, she found herself out in the inner ward, surrounded by enemy soldiers, who were all looking at the lady of the keep with some interest. They all knew who she was and they all knew that le Bec had been keeping company with her, which was why no one moved to speak with her in any fashion. To do so would incur the wrath of le Bec.

But Nicola wasn’t aware of what the soldiers were thinking, nor did she care. She passed through the gate that separated the inner ward from the kitchen yard, immediately hit by the smell of roasting pig. Hermenia and a couple of the soldiers had killed one of the remaining young pigs and the scent was heavy in the yard.

The old cook was stirring one of the three big pots of stew that they seemed to have going at any given time. Since their return from Manchester, the pots would hold different things – porridge to fill empty bellies, or beans and pork fat, or even mutton stew. There was always something going and the smells were often overwhelming in the cold, heavy air.

Nicola came to a halt just inside the gate, watching old Hermenia stir a pot full of provisions she and Kenton had brought back from Manchester. The mere remembrance of that day, that lovely day when he spoke so sweetly to her, now brought a knot to the pit of her stomach. Now, the shock of his words was wearing off and the realization was hitting.
It was true, all of it.
She stood there a moment, sinking further and further into despair.

The reality was staggering – she was smitten with a man who had only been using her. She couldn’t even begin to describe the desolation she felt, the sheer anguish at her own idiocy. Why hadn’t she realized that before that Kenton was only using her? How could she have been so foolish? He’d played upon her emotions and, like a silly woman, she had let him. She had agreed most readily to everything he said or did as of late, his tall and dark handsomeness blinding her to the truth of the man’s character.

He was her enemy and she had all but given him the key to her heart.

Dear God, why hadn’t she seen any of this before?

No one had touched her heart, ever, and for good reason. Now, she knew without a doubt that all men were liars and abusers. Gaylord abused her body but Kenton abused her soul. Never again would she allow a man to betray her. Never again would she be stupid to his true motives. At that moment, something inside of Nicola died just a little bit, something warm and soft and loving. It died because she killed it.

She would not make the same mistake ever again.

Turning away from the sight of the food, she wandered back over to the stables were the animals were crowded in, eating grain and dried fruits as given to them by the stable servants. Nicola wandered all the way to the back of the stable, into a stall where Tab’s pony was happily crunching oats, and sat heavily near the manger. The tears came then.

She wept all afternoon but when she finally emerged from the stables, it was with greater resolve than ever before. If Kenton thought he was going to use her, then he was sadly mistaken. It was she who now had a plan.

Kenton le Bec would not have the last laugh in all of this.

She
would.

The evening feast was a fragrant and sticky affair, with so many men crowding into the great hall of Babylon that the air itself was not only warm, it was moist. Men were sweating because of the roaring blaze in the malfunctioning hearth, coughing as they ate with all of the smoke in the room. But it was much better than the alternative, being out in the snowy February night.

Dark clouds had rolled in throughout the afternoon and as the sun set, a dusting of white powder began to fall. The inner and outer wards still had dirty snow in them from the last snowfall, so the new snow was simply piling onto the dirty black mounds that were already there. It made for wet and miserable conditions, so there were many men crowded inside the hall and inside the keep, trying to stay dry and warm.

Fortunately, there was enough food to feed them. Hermenia and her help had a pork and bean stew that included carrots and parsnips, great chunks of grainy bread, butter, cheese, big slabs of fried, salty pig skin, tart apple pies with cinnamon and cloves and honey, and ultimately a good deal of warmed wine.

In all, it made for pleasant feasting with the exception of Gaylord’s mad mother having emerged from her closeted hovel in the entry to create an interruption. The woman’s nightly dance had continued in spite of the strange army at Babylon and Kenton had deliberately forgotten about his intention to remove her, mostly because he was fairly certain such a move would upset Nicola and her sons, and he did not wish to upset them. Therefore, he tolerated the old woman who would emerge from her hole near the mural stairs in the entry, dance around a bit, and then hiss and run back into her closet when she saw all of the men gazing back at her. She was such a regular occurrence that men were starting to place bets as to the exact time she would appear. Betting on the crazy old woman was now a nightly happening.

And this night was no different, although the woman with the wild hair had made a very brief appearance before rushing back into her closet and slamming the door. Kenton and his knights were seated at the end of the big feasting table, enjoying the warmth and food and ignoring the mad woman in the entry. Kenton, in fact, had spent the evening watching Nicola, her three female servants, and several male servants provide food and drink to a room full of soldiers.

In evenings past, she had brought her boys to the table and she would sit with the knights, which made for good company because she was smart and witty and made excellent conversation, but tonight she seemed unable to take the time to sit. With the snow and bad weather, even those men camping in the inner ward had come inside to get out of the cold and the damp. The hall was standing room only.

But Kenton ignored the crowd of men as he continued to watch Nicola as she made sure the servants provided adequately to each table. When she finally came near the big table with a steaming pitcher of hot wine to fill the cups, Kenton reached out and gently grasped her arm.

“Lady Thorne,” he said, relishing the close proximity of her as she leaned over the table to pour wine into Wellesbourne’s cup. “Will you not sit and eat with us this night? Surely you must eat at some point.”

Nicola had spent the entire evening avoiding looking at Kenton; she didn’t want to look into that beautiful face and be reminded of what a fool she had been. She didn’t want to be reminded of how badly her heart hurt. But she also didn’t want him to think anything between them had changed so she forced herself to look at him, smiling weakly.

“I will try,” she said. “There are many men in the hall tonight and the servants are quite busy. They need my guidance.”

“But we need your company,” Kenton said, his eyes glimmering at her. “Will you not sit, even for a moment?”

Nicola very much wanted to refuse him but she steeled herself. If she refused, he might think something was wrong, that she was upset with him, and she didn’t want him to think that. She wanted him to think that everything was still right between them and that his attempts to probe her were still in full swing.

Nay, she wouldn’t give in to the pain she was feeling. Instead, she gazed at the man steadily. She wanted him to believe all was still well and that her heart wasn’t shattered in a million little pieces of pain. But it was difficult, oh so difficult. Everything in her body was screaming with anguish as she looked at the man, wishing he had truly been sincere in his attentions. But he hadn’t been. He’d lied to her. Quietly, she set the pitcher down and sat on the bench next to Kenton.

“There,” she said, forcing a smile. “I suppose I can sit for a moment or two. What great plans do you all have for this evening? Will there be another game of chance that I will be forced to keep my children from? They are very interested in the dice, you know.”