De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (27 page)

Conor watched her lowered head, coming to understand that everything he had guessed was occurring between Lady Thorne and Kenton had, in fact, been true. The lady had made that abundantly clear. But she also made it clear that she was the one who had betrayed Kenton and his men, purely out of revenge for a misunderstanding, and he was caught up in a mistake of her doing. Aye, a good deal was becoming quite clear and Conor wasn’t sure he was in a forgiving mood.

“If you are looking for absolution, I have none to give you,” he said quietly. “There is no forgiveness in war.”

Nicola sighed heavily, wiping her face of the tears that would not seem to stop falling. “I am not asking for your absolution,” she said, daring to look up at him, “but I thank you for explaining the situation to me from your perspective. I am sorry that the men from Conisbrough beat you and I believe I can convince them that you are my husband’s knight. Will you at least let me do that for you so you do not rot away in this vault?”

Conor’s swollen lips twitched in an ironic smile. “I will not surrender my honor to save myself, my lady,” he said. “Your offer is generous, but I will decline.”

Nicola forced herself to stop weeping, focusing on Conor and what needed to be done. She was quite serious when she spoke. “I am not asking you to surrender your honor,” she said. “I may need your help, Sir Conor, and I have no one else I can turn to. You understand what is happening here and I will need your counsel. If you hate me for all of this, I do not blame you, but I must try to right the wrongs that I have committed. I am told that Manchester fell to Edward, which means Kenton is either dead or captured. I must do all that I can to discover what has happened to the man and when I do, I may need your assistance. Or I may release you and let you go to him. Either way, it is a better ending for you than moldering away in Babylon’s vault.”

Conor considered her words. Dying in this moldy hole certainly did not appeal to him and if Lady Thorne was sincere about discovering what had become of Kenton, then he was not opposed to helping her. Perhaps she really did want to right her wrong; perhaps she was only fearful of her immortal soul for the moment and said such words to convince him to join or forgive her. He would not do either of those things. But if there was a chance to get free and go to Kenton, he would be a fool not to take it.

“Very well,” he agreed. “I will go along with your charade if you sincerely mean to locate Kenton. But know that you do not have my trust.”

Nicola wasn’t surprised or offended by his statement.” I do not need your trust,” she said. “All I need is your cooperation. I must have it or you will remain here in the vault. I cannot help you beyond that.”

Conor nodded shortly. “I give you my word that I will cooperate with whatever plan you may have in mind purely because I will be unable to help Kenton, at this point, any other way,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

Nicola stood up from the cold, stone bench, brushing at her wet and dirty bum. “I will find out from St. John where they have taken Kenton if, in fact, he is still alive,” she said. “St. John suggested he would be taken to Conisbrough, as the nearest stronghold for Edward. I will insist that St. John send word to the men in Manchester to see what has become of Kenton and then we shall know how to proceed.”

Conor watched her as she moved towards him. “And Forbes, le Mon, de Russe, and Wellesbourne,” he added. “You should find out what has become of them, too. All of those excellent knights… it is hard to comprehend if they are all lost.”

Nicola stood over him, feeling extreme guilt with his words even though she didn’t sense he had said them to offend her. He was simply stating his thoughts.

“I will find out what I can, I swear it,” she said. “I did this. I will do what I must to right it, no matter what the cost.”

Conor’s eyes flickered. “You speak of enemy knights, my lady.”

“I speak of men who were kinder to me than my husband, or his men, ever were.”

Conor could hear the emotion in her voice when she spoke. “Then what now?” he asked. “What would you have me do if I am to be an accomplice in your plan?”

Nicola pondered that a moment. “I will claim you as one of Gaylord’s men and none who are loyal to me will dispute that,” she said. “Hopefully we can carry on the charade until we find out what has happened to Kenton. When we do, we will decide what course to take.”

There wasn’t much Conor could say to that although he didn’t think her plan for him was going to work. Sooner or later, someone would talk. They would mention the big knight who had come with le Bec, a knight who was now being claimed by Lady Thorne as one of Gaylord’s men, and St. John would realize he had been lied to, which made Conor realize that he could not remain at Babylon for any length of time. He had to escape and allowing Lady Thorne to think that he was going along with her scheme was essential to his own scheme.

He had to flee Babylon and find Warwick.

With his own plan in mind, Conor watched Nicola as she left the cell and went to the stairs, calling up to the guards and to St. John on the level above. She was demanding help in removing him from his cell and shortly, men appeared to carry him out. He could walk, but barely, and it was slow-going until he reached the light of the inner ward above. After that, he ended up in the third floor of the keep in the room where Lady Thorne’s boys used to sleep. There was a single bed there now, restful and padded, and he was grateful for the peace and comfort.

Now, he had his own plans to make.

March (Spring)

They had returned everything to Kenton but his weapons. They’d even returned his horse. Several days after his defeat at Manchester, Kenton and Saxilby and about five hundred men had made the trek back to Conisbrough Castle, including a couple of hundred of Kenton’s men who were prisoners.

They departed Manchester on a bright day, nearly the first of spring, but it was still terribly cold. The roads, because of the late snows and wet weather, were terrible and nearly impassible at points, but the Saxilby army managed to move through or around anything that seemed like a blockade. Travel was slow-going, however, due to both the road conditions and the number of wounded they were carrying, and a trip that should have taken two days in decent conditions ended up taking four.

Kenton had seen Conisbrough Castle many times from a distance but he had never been inside the structure, which was quite vast. Much like Babylon, it had an enormous keep with mural stairs that led to different levels, and a great hall in the bailey. While his men had been shuttled to a protected area next to the hall, Kenton had been taken inside the keep.

Surprisingly, Saxilby didn’t put him in the vault, which is what he had mostly expected. He was a prisoner, after all, and a valuable one, so Saxilby treated him with a goodly amount of courtesy by placing him in a small, guarded chamber on the fourth floor of Conisbrough’s keep. His armor was taken from him, however, and he was left with nothing but his clothing. He was not allowed to attend meals in the hall or outside of his room, but the meals were generous and he did not want for food. He was given no utensils at all, nothing that could be used as a weapon, but it didn’t particularly bother him. In fact, nothing seemed to bother him any longer.

Nothing seemed to matter to him any longer.

Kenton was a career knight from a long line of career knights. His grandfather had been the great Richmond le Bec and his grandmother a bastard daughter of Henry IV, so he was distantly related to the current king. From the time he was old enough to understand, he knew what had been expected of him – serving men sworn to the king and making a difference in his world. He had earned a great reputation alongside The Lion of the North, Atticus de Wolfe, but he’d amicably parted ways with Atticus years ago to pursue his career with Warwick. Atticus was more concerned with holding down the north and the Scots borders while Kenton headed into heavy battles flying Henry’s banners. It was a life he had been trained to do and something he did very well. But the most recent events in his life, particularly with a widowed lady whose husband had once served Edward, seemed to have sucked everything out of him.

Everything he thought he ever knew was unimportant any longer.

Nowadays, instead of plotting his escape, he seemed content to be a prisoner. As long as they were treating him well, there was no real reason to try to break from Conisbrough, which he couldn’t do anyway. The place was virtually impenetrable and, not knowing the layout, he would be foolish to try and escape. Until he knew the place a little better, or perhaps until he had more of an opportunity to escape, he wasn’t going to make the attempt. He’d find himself worse off than he already was and he knew it. He had their trust for the moment and wanted to keep it.

But it was more than that. He simply didn’t feel the urge to escape. What was there to escape
to
? The woman he loved had betrayed him and he still couldn’t believe what she had done. He’d tried not to think back to the stolen kisses they had shared, or the joyful times in Manchester shopping or even the gaiety after they had returned home. Everything had been more delightful and satisfying than he’d ever known. Spending evenings supping with Nicola and her children, or helping the boys learn to fish… it was a life he’d never known to exist, a life that revolved around a beautiful woman and her intelligent boys whom he was quite fond of. He was quite fond of them
all
so to know that what he had enjoyed so much, that fleeting taste of heaven he’d experienced, was all a lie was something he could not accept.

So he stood next to the tiny lancet window of his tiny chamber, peering out into the sky and thinking of things he probably shouldn’t think of. He could hear the bailey down below, the hustle and bustle of it, and at night he could hear the sentries on patrol, but he didn’t pay much attention. His mind wandered back to Babylon every night, remembering how difficult it had been for Nicola to put the boys to bed because they wanted to remain in the hall and watch the knights play their games of chance. He remembered sitting with Tab when the crazed old woman burst out of her closet and explaining to the terrified young lad that the frightful creature in white tatters was not, in fact, a ghost. He helped the child to grow, to realize that there was nothing to be afraid of.

He’d liked that feeling of accomplishment.

He couldn’t even become upset at himself for letting him grow close to Nicola’s boys because there had been no way to prevent it. For some reason, he had been drawn to the boys and they to him, and he had enjoyed every moment of Tab’s boldness, of Teague’s sweet lisp, and Tiernan’s expressive silence. It made him want sons just like them, sons from Nicola, but that had been a fool’s dream. He had been foolish to even think such things.

Nay, he couldn’t muster the strength to become angry with himself in any fashion for what had happened. He kept going back to his conversation with Nicola in the storage vaults of Babylon when she had screamed at him. It was at that moment that he realized things between them had changed and he was convinced someone, perhaps one of his own men, had convinced Nicola that his intentions were dishonorable. That
he
was dishonorable. He didn’t blame her because she didn’t know any better. She was a woman, after all, and a very smart one, but their relationship had been so new and so tenuous. It hadn’t even been a relationship at all, to be truthful.

It had simply been his dream.

Therefore, he stood against the wall, gazing from the window and reflecting on what could have been. He hadn’t the strength or need or urgency to do anything else and on this dusky evening as the sun set against the western sky, his thoughts and intentions were no different. He didn’t even know how many days had passed since he’d been brought here; he hadn’t been keeping track. But he knew, by the color of the sky, that soon his meal would be brought to him, another meal in an endless line of meals that he wouldn’t particularly eat. Food made him think of Nicola. In fact,
everything
made him think of Nicola. As he lingered by the window, the bolt on the outside of his door was thrown.

Kenton turned just about the time Saxilby entered the chamber. The man was combed and shaved, which was far more than Kenton could say about himself. In fact, he had a bit of beard growth that he kept scratching on his chin and he hadn’t bathed in weeks. He stood by the window in his filthy clothes as Saxilby closed the chamber door and pulled up the only chair in the chamber. He settled himself, getting comfortable.

“Greetings, le Bec,” he said. “Have you been content in this chamber so far?”

Kenton nodded. “For a prisoner, I am astonishingly comfortable,” he said. “And the food has been plentiful. You have my thanks for your kind treatment.”

Saxilby waved him off. “It is no trouble,” he said. “Moreover, I would not send you to Edward half-starved and exhausted. That would not do for a man of your status. Speaking of half-starved, however, it has come to my attention that you have not been eating well. Is something the matter? Are you ill?”

Kenton exhaled slowly. “Nay,” he said, his tone rather dull. “I am simply not hungry these days.”

Saxilby grunted. “I suppose that I can understand that,” he said. “Captivity is not normally an appetite inducer, which is why I have come to escort you on a walk about the grounds. I thought you might like to see some of Conisbrough while we discuss a few things. It might help your appetite.”

Kenton came away from the window, arms folded across his big chest. “What things did you wish to discuss?”

Saxilby was treating it all very casually. “The changes that are coming in the near future,” he said. “In fact, you are to have a visitor, although I am not entirely sure this will be good news to you.”

“Visitor?” Kenton repeated. “Who?”

Saxilby wriggled his eyebrows as if about to relay particularly interesting information. “I received a missive from Brome St. John on the day we arrived from Manchester,” he said. “If you do not know the name, you should. He is the garrison commander of Conisbrough and also the man who led the successful recapture of Babylon. He wanted to know what happened at Manchester and if we had managed to capture you. I sent a missive informing him that we had.”

Kenton mulled over the information, finally turning away and going to his bed, where he sat heavily on the end of it. “I have heard the name of St. John,” he said. “I do not know him personally. But what does this have to do with me having a visitor?”

Saxilby continued. “Upon learning that we hold you at Conisbrough, St. John sent another missive to inform me that he is returning to Conisbrough now that Babylon is secured and that he is bringing the Lady of Babylon with him.” Saxilby’s gaze lingered on Kenton. “I would assume you know Lady Thorne, le Bec.”

Kenton’s calm demeanor took a hit. “Of course I do,” he gushed before he could stop himself. He was suddenly wildly curious as to why Nicola should be coming to Conisbrough, electrified by the news. But not wanting to look like a fool, he struggled to calm himself. “Why would Lady Thorne come to Conisbrough?”

Saxilby shrugged. “Why do women do anything?” he asked, a somewhat snide rhetorical question. “Women get it into their minds to do something and they do it. You are not married, le Bec, and would not understand this, but women are unpredictable and even mad at times. According to St. John, Lady Thorne wishes to see the man who held her and her family captive. I would assume she wants to berate you or take a stick to you. But have no fear; if she wants to beat you, I will not let her.”

Kenton’s mind was racing with the possibilities, the reasons, behind Nicola’s arrival. But the more he thought on it, the more something became quite clear to him. Whatever happened, whatever reason she had, her appearance would end the feelings he had for her. He was in love with the woman, that was true, but after what she had done, after the words she had said, he was convinced she held no such feelings for him and it was therefore foolish for him to hold any feelings for her. He was positive she was coming to Conisbrough to tell him what a fool he was and how much she hated him.

Odd how only moments before, he was wallowing in memories of her, but now that he knew she was coming, he felt a sense of closure approach. He felt defensive, as if he wanted to protect himself emotionally. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked that feeling, but there was nothing he could do about it. Nicola must be coming to tell him what she really thought of him and he would have to accept it. Whatever she said, he would have to accept it.

And he would have to move on with his life.

“She is not a very big woman,” he said after a moment, trying to pretend her visit meant nothing to him. “I am sure I could defend myself.”

Saxilby watched the man, noticing he would not look at him. He thought it rather odd behavior from the usually mannerly le Bec. “Mayhap,” he said. “I knew her husband, Gaylord. Did you know him?”

Kenton shook his head. “I knew of him but I did not know him personally,” he said. “He is dead, you know. He is buried in Babylon’s chapel.”

“Did Lady Thorne tell you this?”

“I saw his body myself.”

Saxilby nodded but there was something ominous on his mind. “You did not desecrate the body, did you?” he asked fearfully. “Is that why she is coming to Conisbrough? Because you destroyed the body?”

Kenton shook his head. “We destroyed his crypt to identify the body but the body itself was left intact,” he replied. “We did not damage it.”

Saxilby grunted. “I see,” he said. “Well, then mayhap Lady Thorne wants to curse you for smashing her husband’s tomb, although I cannot believe that to be the case. He was a very unpleasant man, you know. I am not entirely sure how much his wife knows about his activities, but it is said that there are a few Thorne bastards running about in Yorkshire. The man had more than one mistress.”

Kenton looked at him, then, not particularly surprise at what he was hearing but he naturally felt disgusted on Nicola’s behalf. She had never mentioned anything about Gaylord’s life or practices, and especially not rumors of bastards. It would have been a shameful thing for a wife to admit but it was more than possible that she didn’t even know. Still, what a terrible thing for such a proud woman. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved a husband who would ply her, and only her, with his attention.

“I would not know of this,” Kenton finally said. “All I can tell you is that Gaylord Thorne is, indeed, dead.”

Saxilby nodded, standing up wearily. “I have heard that as well,” he said. “Months ago, I was told. Any idea how it happened?”

“A fever, I believe.”

Saxilby accepted Kenton’s reasons. He had no reason not to and no reason to believe that the truth was much more horrific than Kenton made it out to be.
His own son killed him
, Kenton thought,
because the man was beating his mother
. Kenton would keep Nicola’s secrets even if she had betrayed him. Just because she created a wrong didn’t mean he had to match her. He had more sense, and decency, than that.