De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (28 page)

He had more respect for the woman than she had ever shown him.

“Come along, le Bec,” Saxilby broke into his thoughts. He knocked on the door and pulled it open when the guards on the other side threw the bolt. “Let us walk this vast complex and speak on things that do not involve warfare. I have a farm outside of Norwich, by the way. I breed war horses. Do you know much of horses?”

Kenton nodded. “I know enough.”

“Then we will talk about horses for the time being,” he said, leading Kenton from the room. “Soon enough St. John will be here and his conversation will not be so pleasant. He will want to know things. You had better prepare yourself.”

Kenton didn’t care about Brome St. John’s arrival. He was only concerned with Nicola’s arrival and why she was coming, what she had to say to him. He was eager to see her but on the other hand, he was wary to see her. God, he should hate her. He should utterly hate her for what she did. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. Was he too forgiving or was he just foolish? Truthfully, Kenton had no idea. Perhaps he was neither.

Perhaps he was simply in love.

Stupid, but in love.

Babylon

Nicola was in the three small rooms she shared with her family. Her sons, as well as the serving women, were watching her shuttle things from the wardrobe to her bed where she had an open satchel. Conor was watching her, too. Several days after his near-death beating at the hands of Conisbrough soldiers, he was up and moving quite ably. And he never left Nicola’s side, not for a moment. St. John had permitted it even though he didn’t believe that Conor had been Gaylord’s knight. There was just something about the relationship dynamics between the lady and the knight that were off somehow, leading him to believe that all was not as she was telling him.

Nicola knew this. She could see the doubt in St. John’s eyes when it came to Conor, but to his credit, he never said anything. He permitted Conor to escort Lady Thorne about in a fortress that was full of unfamiliar soldiers. Nicola was grateful for St. John’s generosity and she was further grateful that the man was polite enough to keep her informed about what was happening where it pertained to le Bec and Warwick. He’d sent a missive to Conisbrough several days ago asking for the status of Kenton, and had received word back that Kenton was, in fact, alive and at Conisbrough.

The news had brought tears to Nicola’s eyes although she refused to let anyone see that reports on Kenton le Bec made her emotional, so the tears of relief she had shed for him had been done later in the privacy of her rooms. The realization that Kenton was alive had been overwhelming for her, overwhelming in the sense that she was vastly relieved and deeply happy. But the realization he was also a prisoner frightened her. She was gravely concerned for him. More than anything, she was desperate to see him.

After St. John received the missive informing him that Kenton was, indeed, at Conisbrough, Brome made immediately plans to depart Babylon and return to his garrison. He’d been away from it for weeks now and was anxious to return, which worked in Nicola’s favor since she was eager to go with him. With a schedule that had them departing at dawn the next day for Conisbrough Castle, Nicola spent the evening in her chambers, packing her satchel, while Conor stood at his post by the door and the boys, with too much pent-up energy, were running through the rooms chasing each other.

“But… I do not understand, my lady,” Janet said as she helped Nicola pack. “Why must you go to Conisbrough, too? You are not a prisoner and it is not your home. Why is Sir Brome taking you with him?”

The servants, as well as her sons, were in the dark regarding the reason for her traveling to Conisbrough. Nicola had purposely kept any information of Kenton from them, mostly because she was feeling guilty enough for what she’d done and she also wasn’t one to share her private life with those who served her, so she’d simply kept quiet about it. Her serving women knew enough about her feelings for Kenton, whether or not she wanted them to, and she’d reached the point where she simply didn’t want to speak of him or share anything about him. At least, that had been her mantra for the past several days, ever since they had spoken of the confrontation between Wellesbourne, de Russe, and Kenton regarding Kenton’s failure to comply with Warwick’s orders. Therefore, in the past few fragile days, nothing about Kenton le Bec had been mentioned to either the servants or to the boys. Nicola simply didn’t speak of him at all.

But the same rules didn’t apply to Conor. De Birmingham knew why she was going to Conisbrough because she had kept him apprised of the information St. John was giving her. He was accompanying her to Conisbrough, as she had requested it of St. John, and the man had naturally granted her request. He always granted her request, whether or not he wanted to, and Nicola was fairly certain he didn’t want the big red-haired knight along with them, but he was submissive to the lady’s wishes and Nicola didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it.

Janet’s question hung in the air as Nicola continued packing her satchel, mulling over what to say and how, precisely, to answer. She’d never admitted to anything between her and Kenton, not ever, and she wasn’t going to start now, which would make explaining away her visit to Conisbrough to see Kenton rather difficult. Still, she had an idea and when the curious silence for her answer became excessive, she spoke.

“I am going to Conisbrough Castle because I have asked to go,” she said. “It would seem that Sir Kenton is a prisoner there and I have a few things I wish to say to him.”

The mention of Kenton being a prisoner brought horror and excitement to the women. “And Sir Matthew, my lady?” Raven gasped eagerly. “Is he a prisoner, too?”

Nicola glanced up at the dark-haired lass. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “I was only told that Sir Kenton was at Conisbrough and it is my intention to speak to him about a few things, not the least of which is the tomb his men smashed in the chapel.”

The servants knew about that but the younger boys did not. Instinctively, Nicola and her serving women looked to Teague and Tiernan to see if either one of them found interest in their mother’s words. But there was no interest. Tiernan was under one of the beds, making a tent with a blanket, and Teague was over next to Conor, putting his wooden soldiers into Conor’s open palm. Seeing that the twins were oblivious, Nicola continued in a softer tone.

“In any case,” she said, shoving the last of her items into the satchel, “I will be at Conisbrough for a few days, mayhap even a few weeks. It will be your task to tend to the children during that time. I will leave them in your care.”

Tab, who was watching his mother seriously, spoke. “I want to go with you, Mam.”

Nicola shook her head. “That is not necessary,” she said. “Sir Conor is going with me. I need you to stay here and protect your brothers. You are the head of the house and hold now, Tab. Teague and Tiernan are your responsibility until I return.”

Tab frowned, looking over at Conor, who was dutifully holding his hand open while Teague put tiny toy soldiers and little spears into it. “I must go and protect you,” he insisted. “I will go!”

Nicola shook her head patiently, stepping away from the satchel as Janet and Liesl tied it up. “Your brothers need you here,” she said. “I need you here, Tab. If you go with me, I will be terribly worried about your brothers. But if I know you are here watching over them, then they will be safe. That is all I can ask for.”

Tab was very unhappy that his mother was denying his request to go with her. It was more of a demand, anyway, but regardless, she was refusing him. Frustrated, Tab wandered in her direction, brow furrowed, feet shuffling. He kicked at the wooden floor.

“I want to see Sir Kenton, too,” he finally muttered.

Nicola could see that he was disappointed more than anything. She put her hand on his slender shoulder. “I will tell him that you wanted to see him,” she said quietly. “I am sure that will make him happy.”

Tab looked up at her. “Will you ask him when he is coming back?”

Nicola sighed heavily. “He is a prisoner, Tab,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”

He nodded without hesitation. “It means that he will fish and feast and go into town,” he said. “We were prisoners and we did all those things.”

Nicola cleared her throat softly, seeing that her son had a skewed view of what, exactly, being a prisoner entailed. She sat on the end of her bed, focusing on her serious son.

“Nay,” she said. “That is not what it means. Being a prisoner means that Kenton will be kept in the vault. He will be unable to go anywhere he pleases. It means that those holding him can do what they wish with him.”

Tab was puzzled. “But we were prisoners and we were not held in the vault.”

Nicola lifted a finger, indicating the chamber surrounding them. “But Sir Kenton moved us out of our chambers and put us up here, did he not?” she asked. “He kept us here and would not let us go at first. Do you recall?”

Tab nodded. “But he let us out and he took me to fish,” he said. “Mam, why do we not move back into our old chambers? Are we still prisoners?”

I am a prisoner of guilt,
Nicola thought to herself. She forced a smile at her son. “We are not,” she said. “I… I do not know why we do not move back into our former chambers. I have not thought about it, to be truthful. Would you like to direct the moving when I am away?”

That was perhaps a bit attractive to Tab, ordering people about and moving chambers, so he nodded even though he still wasn’t entirely happy about not going to Conisbrough with his mother. Nicola, seeing his indecision, capitalized on it.

“There’s a good lad,” she said, kissing his head. “You will stay here and protect your brothers while I am away. I will return as soon as I can.”

She stood up, hoping to move away from Tab before he started bombarding her with more questions, but she didn’t move fast enough. He latched on to her hand.

“But Sir Kenton?” he wanted to know. “What will become of him?”

Nicola wasn’t entirely sure how to answer him. “I… I do not know, Tab.”

“Will they kill him?”

Her heart lurched, sickened at the mere thought. “I do not know.”

Tab yanked on her. “You must make sure they do not,” he insisted. “Sir Kenton is my friend! I do not want him to be killed!”

Nicola squeezed his hand, trying to soothe him. “I will do what I can to ensure they do not, I promise,” she assured him. “Do not worry overly. I am sure Sir Kenton is well and I will tell him that you have asked for him.”

Tab was frowning, still dwelling on the thought of Kenton being executed, as his mother pulled away and went back to her task of finalizing her packing. Nicola, however, didn’t look at her son; she was too busy trying not to look at him, trying not to think on thoughts of Kenton’s execution. Honestly, the thought had never crossed her mind until now and, at this moment, she was fighting off the panic the mere idea suggested. What was it Kenton had told her once, back when Saxilby and the others had lain siege to Babylon?
If I am captured by Edward, I will probably stand trial for treason and be executed.
Dear God, why had that not occurred to her before now? He’d spoken those words back in the days when they were harassing each other constantly, back in the days when her attraction to the man, so strong, was something that confused and frightened her.

But now, she remembered his words. She was terrified by them. She swore, at that moment, that even if he didn’t want her to, she would beg for his life to be spared. Perhaps those who held him would listen, perhaps not. All she knew was that she was not going to let Kenton le Bec face execution without a fight. She would do all in her power to prevent it.

Somehow, the trip to Conisbrough seemed more urgent than ever before.

She had to get to Kenton.

Bradley Manor, Lincolnshire

“
Nay!
” the young woman screamed as the knight dragged her from the reception room of the large manor house known as Bradley Manor. “I will not go with you! Let me
go
!”

Unfortunately for Lady Holland, Duchess of Exeter, Bradley Manor did not have the retinue of soldiers that most of her husband’s properties had, mostly because she didn’t like for her home to have the feel of a military installation. At this moment, her preference was her undoing, for about twenty soldiers bearing the red and blue of Warwick had burst into her home and taken hold of one of her wards, a young woman named Katryne St. John. Now, a few men were dragging the girl from the house while the rest of the Warwick solders were holding her servants and guards at bay with big swords and well-aimed crossbows.

“Where are you taking her?” Lady Holland, extremely well dressed in heavy silks and with a tight white wimple around her head, scooted after the men who were dragging her young ward away. “How dare you break into my home and take Katryne with you! Where are you taking her?”

The Warwick soldier who seemed to be giving the orders came to a halt as his men pulled the hysterical Katryne behind them. He stopped Lady Holland from following by gently raising his hands to her, being very careful not to touch her, but Lady Holland slapped at his hands furiously.

“You will not raise your hands to me!” she screeched, smacking at him. “Move out of my way! Bring that woman back here!”

The soldier was trying to be very careful with the Duke of Exeter’s wife. He didn’t want to harm or overly harass the woman because it would bring Holland down on Warwick. Not that the man wasn’t going to come down on him, anyway, for bursting into his wife’s residence and stealing away one of her wards, but the soldier was trying to be as careful about it as he could. He didn’t want to use more force than absolutely necessary but he had his orders – bring St. John’s sister to Warwick at all costs. The woman was to be used in exchange for Kenton le Bec’s life, as her brother was le Bec’s captor, but Lady Holland need not know any of that. Fed a proper lie of Warwick’s creation, that was all she ever need know.

“She will be treated well, my lady,” the soldier explained, saying the same thing he had said when he had first come to Bradley Manor and politely asked for St. John’s sister. “It seems that the lady’s brother has been badly wounded and wishes to see his sister, so we are taking her to him. Warwick has sent us on this mission. I explained this all to you before, Lady Holland.”

In the distance, Katryne screamed as she was unceremoniously tossed onto the back of a horse. Lady Holland yelped at the sight of her manhandled charge.

“But she does not want to go!” Lady Holland gasped. “Why must you take her now? Can we not bring her later in a carriage and with proper chaperones?”

The Warwick soldier shook his head. “Her brother may not live long enough for that, my lady,” he said, moving in the direction of his men as they secured Lady Katryne atop one of the horses. “He is dying, my lady. He wishes to see his sister. You must allow her to go to him.”

Lady Holland scurried after the soldier, out of her front door and across the grassy garden that comprised the front of her manor home. It had been a wet spring so far and the bottom of her fine silk gown soaked up the mud as she ran.

“But… but…!” she cried, trying to stop what could not be stopped. “This is completely improper for the young lady to ride unchaperoned with a gang of soldiers! This simply will not do!”

The Warwick soldier suddenly came to a halt. “Whether or not it will do makes no difference to me,” he said, his manner suddenly not so polite. “We are taking the girl and you cannot stop us. She will be well treated and I personally guarantee that she will not be molested or harassed. Warwick has ordered me to bring her and that is exactly what I intend to do. Good day, Lady Holland.”

With that, he turned away, swiftly, jogging off across the muddy grassy until he reached his horse. He mounted swiftly as Lady Holland ran after him, waving her hands and screaming for them to stop. Katryne’s loud and fearful weeping did nothing to ease the old woman’s anxiety and she finally came to a halt in her running, watching the group of soldiers as they thundered off the same way they had come, joining up with the road and then disappearing when the road moved into a thick cluster of trees to the north.

She lost sight of them, then, and for a moment, Lady Holland simply stood there, gasping and shrieking, terrified that her young ward was in great danger. But she didn’t have the manpower to stop Warwick’s men, prevent them, or even to fight them. She didn’t even have enough men to follow them.

Fearful that she had just let Lady Katryne St. John go off to her death, Lady Holland stood there and screamed.