Shadowmoor (de Lohr Dynasty #6) (2 page)

It was a strong association and Daniel enjoyed visiting William. The last he had seen the man at Northwood Castle, William’s seat of service, had been six years ago but he’d seen him twice since then, both times in London. They’d had a great time together, as usual, but William had just gotten married to a Scots lass and wouldn’t shut up about her. Daniel finally tried to strangle him just to have some peace from the love-struck knight, although it had all been in good humor and they’d both been drunk at the time. Still, Daniel had good memories of it. But more good memories at Northwood Castle would have to wait until the fickle weather held long enough for him to make it to Northumberland.

The wind was picking up as he headed back to Bradford and the clouds were beginning to fire big, fat drops at him. Not a lot of rain, but enough to be annoying. Reaching behind him, strapped onto the back of his saddle, he moved to collect an oiled cloak used against the elements. He didn’t want to be soaked through by the time he reached Bradford. As he fumbled with the fastens, the wind began to howl in his ears, racing across the flat moors until it hit a windbreak, namely him, and it was quickly reaching the point where he needed protection against it. Just as he moved to untie the last leather fasten, he caught sight of movement on the rise to the east.

It was a child, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. The hill he was running upon was open for the most part, with no trees or foliage, but there were rocks and crevices, making a straight run impossible. Daniel watched curiously as the child drew closer, leaping over rocks, falling down and rolling a few feet, before leaping to his feet again and running as if his life depended on it. Indeed, it was most curious behavior and Daniel found himself wondering what had the child so inspired to run like a rabbit, recklessly and swiftly. He soon had his answer.

Over the rise, following the path of the child, came a big man on a well-fed brown rouncey. Whereas the child had found a path among the rocks, the man on horseback swung wide of the rocks, which took him off his path slightly, but made for a clearer run. It soon became apparent that the child, and the man on horseback, were coming straight at Daniel and the child, as he came closer, appeared to be a little lad. Furthermore, there was no mistaking the expression of fear upon the child’s face.

Already, there was a hint of fear in the wind.

“Help me!” the child burst in a breathless, terrified voice. “Please, help me!”

Daniel frowned, looking between the child and the man who was quickly closing the gap. He didn’t want to interfere with a child running from his father but, somehow, this didn’t seem to be the case. The man on horseback was well dressed against the coming storm while the child was clearly in rags. Something didn’t seem right. Daniel let go of the oil cloak he was unfastening from his saddle and turned in the direction of the child.

“Why are you running?” he asked, glancing to the man on horseback. “Why is that man chasing you?”

The child reached Daniel, tripping and falling at Ares’ feet. The big black horse danced about nervously as the boy picked himself up and tried to move behind the horse to use it as a barrier against the approaching rider.

“Please, help me!” the child cried again. “Don’t let him take me!”

Daniel tried to follow the child as he attempted to run behind the horse. Ares was dancing about, trying to kick out at the little boy. “Hold,” he commanded firmly. “Stop trying to get behind my horse because he will kick your head off. Now, why does this man want you? What did you do?”

The child was in tears; blond sandy hair and a round dirty face that was streaked where he had wiped at his eyes. “Sir, I did nothing,” he sobbed.

Daniel lifted his eyebrows. “Nothing?” he repeated. “That does not make sense. Why does he want you if you did nothing?”

The little lad used his dirty tunic to wipe his nose. “He wants my sister,” he said. “He kept me in the vault because he wants her to marry him, but I ran away! I escaped and he wants to put me back! Please don’t let him!”

Daniel scratched his head, greatly puzzled by the accusation. But one thing was clear; the child was terrified and disheveled, a dirty little creature who, upon closer examination, only had one shoe. And he wasn’t very good at listening because he still kept trying to move behind the horse to hide. Like any scared creature, it was an instinct to protect himself and it occurred to Daniel that the child’s swift answers to his questions bespoke of the truth. No hesitation, no struggling for words. Everything had come forth fluidly. Swiftly, Daniel reined Ares about and managed to bend over and grasp the boy by the arm. As the child wailed, Daniel lifted him up and laid the boy across his lap, holding him firm.

The wind was whipping around them now and the man on the fat rouncey was very close, slowing the pace of his steed as he came upon Daniel. Daniel looked closely at the man. He was very well dressed in an expensive cloak and well-made boots, and his horse was quite fine. It was clear the man had money. As the man drew close, he pointed to the child in Daniel’s lap.

“My thanks for capturing him,” he said pleasantly. “I shall take him off your hands, friend.”

Daniel didn’t make any move to surrender the child. “Who is he to you?”

The man lifted a gloved hand in a dismissive gesture. “A servant,” he said. “A very naughty servant. I will take him from you.”

“I am not a servant!” the boy cried, trying to slither off of Daniel’s lap for fear that he would soon be back in the hands of the man he had been running from. “He kept me in the vault! I want to go home!”

“Shut your hole, boy,” the man growled, then looked to Daniel with growing impatience. “Give him to me and you shall be on your way. We will not trouble you further.”

Daniel wasn’t going to hand the boy over until he got to the bottom of what was really going on. Based on everything he’d seen and been told, something told him not to reject the boy’s claims so easily.

“He says he is not your servant,” Daniel said, trying to remain neutral. “He also says that you kept him in the vault because of your desire for his sister. Is this true?”

Overhead, thunder rolled as if to punctuate the seriousness of the conversation now. Gone was the friendliness from the man’s expression.

“That is none of your affair,” he said. “Give me that boy.”

The man’s reply told Daniel most of what he needed to know, including the fact that the boy was more than likely not lying. The expression on the man’s face was vicious, as if Daniel had stolen something from him. There was outrage and hazard there, a hint of the true darkness beneath the expensive clothing and feigned friendly manner. Daniel was a good judge of character; he’d always had the gift, and didn’t doubt the child in the least now.

The man before him was not as pleasant as he wanted Daniel to think he was.

“The lad has asked for my help,” Daniel said. “I would be a less than chivalrous knight if I did not determine why you are chasing a small child across the moors. Why would he tell me this story if it was not true? He does not know me and I do not know him. Why would he create an elaborate story to ask for my assistance?”

The man was starting to grow red in the face. “You will give him back to me if you know what’s good for you,” he growled. “You do not know who you are toying with.”

Daniel would not be threatened. “Neither do you,” he said.

The man’s eyebrows flew up in outrage. “Just who in the hell are you?”

“You first.”

Now the man was growing agitated at this big, blond stranger who evidently couldn’t be bullied. “I am a nephew of Henry,” he said through clenched teeth. “I would assume you know who the king of England is? I am of royal blood, you fool, so if you do not want the entire royal household down upon you, then you will give me that boy and forget you ever saw him. Is that clear?”

Daniel was struggling not to laugh at the man’s conceit. He had a way of provoking men into madness, toying with them, driving them daft with frustration while he remained cool and collected. It was a game he particularly enjoyed with the arrogant and ridiculous, including the idiot before him.

“It is clear,” he said evenly. “But it is also clear that you do not know it is my uncle who commands the royal military on the Marches, as the Earl of Hereford and Worcester. High Sheriff of the Marches, I believe his title is. And my father is the Earl of Canterbury, who has command of four royal garrisons in Kent and Sussex. Between my uncle and my father, they control thousands of royal troops in southeast England as well as on the Welsh Marches so, clearly,
you
do not know who you are dealing with. I am a de Lohr, heir to Canterbury, and if you have not heard the name, then you are most definitely the moronic buffoon I thought you were. Is
that
clear?”

With the reveal of the de Lohr name, the man’s expression seemed to change somewhat. He was still red in the face but not nearly so aggressive. “De Lohr,” he hissed. “I know the name.”

“Good boy.”

“I am Fitzroy. Roland Fitzroy, Lord Bramley, nephew of the king.”

“Through whom?”

“My sister is Joan of Wales.”

Daniel thought a moment on that bit of information. He knew that name.
Joan of Wales
. “She is King John’s bastard daughter, as I recall,” he said, because he knew a great many things about a great many people. He was an extremely sharp man; moreover, having grown up in the nobility of England, he knew much about his peerage. “I seem to remember my father speaking of your mother, once. A French noblewoman, isn’t she?”

Fitzroy’s expression grew smug. “You know of her.”

He shrugged. “I have heard
of
her,” he clarified. “A Lady Clementine or Clementina, I believe. But I also recall hearing that she only had one child by John.”

“She did,” Fitzroy said with confidence. “My sister.”

Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “If that is the case, your half-sister may be the daughter of a king, but you are not related to John, or even Henry, in any fashion.”

Fitzroy’s smug expression turned into something of a grimace. “I am considered a nephew,” he said, his jaw ticking. “The king is my uncle.”

“Not by blood.”

“It does not matter! It is the Fitzroy name I bear!”

“You more than likely gave it to yourself, did you not? You are not the son of a king.”

“Dare you argue with me about this?”

Daniel smiled, without humor. “Your relationship to the king is only by way of an illicit relationship and nothing else,” he said. “You use your sister’s bloodlines to further your prestige and you gave yourself the surname of Fitzroy. Therefore, I outrank you by blood and family ties, and you will tell me the truth about this boy or I shall take the child with me and ride off. Well? I am waiting.”

Fitzroy’s weathered, sweaty face looked as if it were about to explode. He began to grind his jaw. “This is none of your affair, de Lohr,” he said. “You have no business interfering. The boy belongs to me. I want him back.”

“How does he belong to you?”

“I told you! He is a servant!”

Throughout most of the conversation, the boy lying across Daniel’s thighs had remained still, but now that the focus had returned to him, he began to kick again.

“I am
not
his servant!” he shouted. “He took me away and will only let me go home if my sister marries him!”

The child was lifting his head, trying to sit up or slide off Daniel’s legs again so Daniel shoved him back down again. His big hand on the lad’s blond head, he looked at Fitzroy.

“If this child is a servant, what is his name?” he asked. “What does he do for you? Who are his parents and what do they do for you?”

It was too many questions, rapid-fire, and Fitzroy became flustered. “His name is Gunther,” he said. “He… he is a page. He works the kitchens. His father is… it does not matter what his father does for me. Give me that boy. I will not tell you again!”

Beneath Daniel’s hand, the child was still trying to lift his head. “That is
not
my name!” he said, sticking his tongue out at the man. “I do not work in your kitchen!”

Overhead, thunder rolled again and the fat drops of rain that had been sporadically pelting them now began to come down with a vengeance. Daniel looked up at the sky. “We will continue this conversation at a later time,” he said to Fitzroy. “I will not stand out in this rain and risk my health. Where is your home?”

Fitzroy threw a thumb back over his shoulder. “Bramley Castle,” he said. “Come and bring the boy.”

Daniel shook his head. “The boy and I will find shelter elsewhere,” he said. “I will question him. If I do not like his answers or it seems as if he has been lying to me, I will bring him to you.”

There wasn’t much to say to that unless Fitzroy wanted to fight Daniel for the child. He did, in fact, unsheathe his expensive broadsword, to which Daniel responded by unsheathing his own. But Daniel didn’t cast the child aside with the hint of an oncoming battle. He held on to the boy, who continued to lift his head and stick his tongue out at Fitzroy. Daniel found himself shoving the boy’s head down again and again to stop him from antagonizing Fitzroy. The final time, Daniel thumped the lad on the head, hard enough to make him yelp and lower his head, rubbing at the thumped area.

But Fitzroy wasn’t paying attention to the sassy lad. He was singularly focused on Daniel at this point because the situation was no longer between him and the boy, but between him and Daniel. His hint to move to battle had been meant to force Daniel to drop the boy, not wanting to be encumbered in a fight with the child on his legs, but Daniel hadn’t released the child because he perhaps sensed the ruse. He held on to the boy by the collar of his scruffy tunic, which was a thick weave of wool and torn on the edges. Daniel had a firm hold of it so the boy wouldn’t slip off as his big black stud danced about nervously, preparing for the first strike.

But the first strike wouldn’t come from Fitzroy. He was no fool. He could simply see by the way de Lohr handled his weapon and his horse that this man was not one to be trifled with, and Fitzroy hadn’t seriously battled against a man in years. He hadn’t needed to. He always had his henchmen do it, but they weren’t with him at the moment. They had all split up to hunt for their escaped prisoner and Fitzroy happened to be the one to come across him. So as far as he knew, his men were still off searching.