Rose Victory - Eagle Series (8 page)

“Hold!”

The one word command petrified everyone within hearing, until they realised that the steward remained the target of the earl’s unrelenting gaze.  Then they continued with their tasks, unconsciously moving further away from their lord.  All except Byran who stood immobile, his face bone white, in sharp contrast to his carrot orange hair and bright red ears.

“I am not a monster,
Master Byran.”  Roydon attempted a smile but failed miserably, his scowl turning into a twisted grimace.  “I am mad at Sir Stefan.  I would not take it out on you.  Now tell me your problem,” he said in an almost reasonable voice, although it echoed around the yard.  “It is uncommon to find you on the training field.”

“It’s of no import, my
lord, truly…”

A raised
dark eyebrow changed the steward’s mind about the importance of his message.  “An old woman has asked to see you, my lord.  I do not think she is from Eagle Rock, but she might be from one of your other holdings, she will not say.  What she does say is that there is a matter of import on which she requires a decision from your lordship.”  Byran paused to draw breath, his face now a bright red from lack of air.  Then realising what the earl’s next question would be, he hastened to add.

“She said she could not wait
for the court session two days hence; gave me the impression that she might die before then.  Now I think that she does not look overly frail.”

“You are too soft, Byran.”

“I am sorry, sir.  I will tell her to attend the court…”

“Where is this old woman?”

“In my cart, she is waiting at the edge of the training field.  I brought her up from the village when she said she was too old to climb…”  A dimple appeared in Byran’s cheek and a crooked smile crossed his face.  “I know, my lord, I am too soft but…”

“Sometimes soft is good
, Byran.”  The earl’s temper appeared to have abated; at least it seemed under control.  “Take me to her.”  Byran almost run to keep up with his lord’s strides, as he guided him to the stationary cart.

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The old woman had abandoned the vehicle and now stood holding onto its side, her eyes impatiently searching the surrounding area.  The moment she saw the two men approaching the woman straightened her thin, wiry frame and faced them head on.  Not that her height impressed the earl, even Byran surpassed her, but her dignity and courage did draw his attention.  That and her piercing blue eyes, the only source of colour on her.

“This is his lordship, Lord
Mountroi, who has graciously acceded to see you.  You may state your case.”  The steward used the nobleman’s official title rather than the more familiar address of Lord Roydon that the castle retainers were permitted to use.

The woman nodded sharply at the introduction and then proceeded to examine the earl from his booted feet to the top of his head, more than a foot and a half above her own head.  She lingered for a long moment on his face, his eyes.  Then she seemed to come to
a decision, which she kept to herself.

Roydon’s surprise did not show on his face.  The ancient woman had courage, he’d give her that, not many people would have given
him the thorough examination he had just received and come out unscathed.  A slight smile lifted his lips.  “What can I do for you, Grandmother?”

“My name is Nona,” the woman did not seem to like the honorary title too well.  “I have come to bring you the boy.”

“The boy?”  Roydon looked around in vain.

“He has grown too big and I can no longer control him.  He needs a man’s hand now.”

“I do not understand.  Is this boy your grandson?” the earl asked, puzzled.

“No, he is yours.  You must take him in.  It is time.”

“Ah, I understand, he is the child of one of my serfs.  I take care of what is mine; you did not have to come to me for this.  My steward will take care of the matter.”  Roydon turned to Byran.  “Foster the boy to a…”

“He is no serf, my
lord.”

The steward frowned at the woman’s interruption but the earl took it in stride.  “Very well, he is the son of a freeman; I still do not allow orphans on
my land to starve or be neglected.  A place shall be found for…”

“He is no orphan either.”  This time the old woman’s voice sounded soft and almost sweet.

   “Then why bring him here, woman?”  Byran’s exasperation tumbled out, both for her discourtesy to his lord at her interruptions and her now unreasonable request.

“His mother had to leave when he was but a year old and he has never known his father.”  Strangely enough, no sadness marred the old woman’s face, rather an expectant half smile
settled on her lips.

The earl, who had up to now managed to control his temper, was now in
imminent danger of losing his patience.  “I understand the boy is not an orphan.  Nevertheless if you can no longer take care of him and his parents are not available then…”

For a third time the woman interrupted the earl.  “His father is
…available.  You must take care of him.”

Roydon lost it.  “You want me to search out the father and force the child on him?  Are you mad woman?”  The earl tried to calm himself.

It did not help that just at that moment Sir Stefan came up beside him.  His still numb and useless right arm protectively cradled in his left.  “Roydon, you will not believe what…”

“Not
now
Stefan!” the earl growled at his friend, remembering that he still felt like throttling him.

“But
…”

“Later!”  The earl shouted in exasperation.  He turned to the old w
oman.  “Enough of this nonsense. You will leave the boy here and his needs will be seen to.”  His edict delivered, the earl made to turn away.

A small wrinkled hand on his arm detained him.  “But he is yours, my
lord.”

Roydon’s eyes nearly rolled up in his head.  “I belie
ve we have already established that I am responsible for the child.”  The earl had just a little bit of patience left.  “My people will see to him.”

Nona shook her head, “It is your duty to see to him, sir.”

The three men stared in dumbfounded disbelief at the old woman; that she dared to speak so to the earl, dared to tell him his duty… She had not finished.

“He is yours.  As your son, it is your duty to see to him.”  A deathly silence greeted the woman’s last words.

Roydon could not believe his ears.  For a heart stopping second, the announcement filled him with such incredible, blinding joy that he thought he would burst with the sheer magic of the moment.  Then common sense took over and cold rage wrapped its fingers around his heart.  “Where was he conceived?”

“Here at Eagle Rock.”  Nona’s voice sounded firm and confident
.

“How old is the boy?”  The earl’s voice, cold and implacable, reflected the expression in his eyes.

“Nine, my lord.”

“Then the boy is not mine.”  Roydon bit the words out, one at a time.  The finality in his tone brooked no
argument or further discussion.  “Stefan, please see to the removal of this woman from my lands, now.”

Dissention came from the last person that Roydon could ever have imagined.  “Are
you sure, Roy?”  Stefan drew his stiff, unyielding friend to the side, his voice a low whisper.  “A maid?  A village girl?”  

Roydon looked at Stefan incredulously, but the concern he saw in his eyes stopped him from lashing out at him.  “I am sure.  I married
almost ten years ago, Stefan and never once did I even consider the possibility of bringing shame on my wife in her own home.  I did not love her, but she had my respect, and honour was her life.  I would never have brought dishonour to her after all she gave me.”

Stefan nodded;
his friend’s word more than enough for him, but a perplexed look remained on his face.  “Then who is that boy?”

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care.  Now let us end this farce.”

“But the boy looks exactly like you, Roy!”

“Stefan’s words stopped the earl in mid-step.  He swung back.  “When have you seen this boy?  Why have you not told me before?”  It said much for the earl’s total trust in his friend that he did not doubt that Stefan had seen a boy that resembled him.

“I only saw him for a moment when we were fighting.  That’s what distracted me, why I froze.  The boy looks
exactly
like you, Roy.  I do not understand it.”  Stefan paused for a moment remembering.  “He did seem older though, more like ten or eleven.”  He cocked an eyebrow at Roydon, the question obvious.

“No, I did not come home for almost two years before my marriage.  The king kept us very busy, remember?

“Yes.”  Then a new idea struck Stefan.  “Could he be your father’s?”

“Good Lord, Stefan!  You would give me a brother now?”

“I swear, Roy, the boy is your living image.  I nearly died being a witness to it.”  Stefan rubbed his arm ruefully.

The earl came to a decision.  “Find the boy, Stefan.  He must be here somewhere.  Then bring him up to the Hall.
We will continue this discussion in private.”

Stefan nodded and turned quickly away, calling soldiers to him as he did so.  Roydon then addressed his steward, ignoring the man’s puzzled expression.  “Take the woman up to the Hall and don’t let her out of your sight until I get there.  Do you understand me?”  The earl planned to get to the bottom of this.

“Yes, my lord.”

The old woman said nothing until Byran had helped her into the cart, then just as the horse pulled away; she turned to face the earl.  “He is yours. 
Remember
.”

Then it struck Roydon like the first impact of a mounted battle charge.  It could not be.  It had been just the one night.  It did
not seem possible and yet…  By the time the earl came to his senses the cart had already disappeared from view.

With all sorts of questions hammering at his brain, the earl made haste to get to the Hall.  Yet by the time he arrived he felt reluctant to question the old woman.  First he would see the boy, determine if Stefan’s report really lived up to the boy’s
likeness.  Then he would ask the pertinent questions.

He could not allow himself to hope for the near impossible, for if he did and it proved false, he knew he would never recover.  The possibility of having a half grown son from that wondrous night, the possibility that he could find his lady again
…

Ruthlessly, Roydon trampled down his half conceived imaginings and tried to clear his mind.  His black eyes fixed on the huge wooden doors; he sat unmoving at the Lord’s Table.  Occasionally his gaze flickered to the stone hea
rth, where the old woman sat on a low stool.  Beside her, as if on guard, stood Byran mindful of his lord’s terse command, he did not take his eyes from the woman.  Roydon returned his gaze to the door.

Each time the door opened, the earl’s hands would clench in expectation
and then slowly relax at each successive false alarm.  The last person to arrive, Ivan, looked carefully round the Hall until he saw his lord at the table, then he made haste towards him.

“We have found the boy, my lo
rd.”  Clearly, from the questioning look in his eyes, he had no idea of the recent events.  “Sir Stefan is bringing him up.”  Any other time Ivan would have cheerfully asked questions, even of his liege, but Roydon’s expression remained too closed, too impassive to encourage questions.  The tension in the Hall seemed almost tangible.  Ivan stepped back behind his lord’s chair.  He knew not what caused the strain but if his lord needed him, he would be there for him.

The mom
ent Stefan walked into the Hall Roydon rose slowly to his feet.  The boy who followed his friend stopped on the threshold and looked curiously, wonderingly around.  Then his gaze fixed on the old woman by the fireplace, he run towards her.

“I am sorry, Nona.  I did not mean to wander.”  The boy’s words tumbled over each other in his eagerness to deliver them
.  “But I saw these two men, giants they were Nona, fighting with enormous swords and then one was nearly killed and everybody run away.  Then I saw soldiers shooting arrows and I wondered if I could do it too.  There were knights on huge horses and…” 

Eventually
the uncanny silence in the Hall hit the boy and his words, his enthusiasm petered out and disappeared.  His eyes, still hidden, shadowed by his head gear, roamed the cavernous room and came to rest unerringly on the man standing on the dais by the table.  Clearly he saw the giant from the training field.  The man the soldier had referred to as the earl, the Lord of Eagle Rock.

Roydon, in turn, watched the boy avidly.  If in truth the child was only nine years old
, he appeared tall for his age; tall and skinny.  His clothes, ragged and dirty, hung off his thin frame almost in tatters.  He could see little else, a large scarf wrapped the lower part of his face almost to his eyes and the large hat that covered his head, totally shadowed his eyes.

Stefan, who had come to stand beside the earl, laid a firm hand on his arm.  “Take
it easy, Roy.  He could be your sire’s, but it could also all be a big mistake.  Don’t get your hopes up,” he cautioned.