Shadowmoor (de Lohr Dynasty #6) (29 page)

Daniel, winded, watched the man run off. “I had no choice,” he said, turning to Liselotte. “If he has had contact with Bramley as he says he has, then it would be like placing a fox in the hen house. We would have an enemy within. Therefore, he is not welcome here. Had I caught him, I would have put him in the vault and chained him to the wall.”

Liselotte watched her brother as he fled down the desolate hillside. “Do you think it was Bramley who told him to kill my father?”

Daniel shrugged. “One cannot choose but to wonder,” he said. “How in the world did he ever come into contact with Bramley? Your father said that he kept to himself in his chamber. I was not aware that he ever left Shadowmoor.”

Liselotte shook her head, distraught from everything that had happened. “He has been known to wander the moor when the drink wears off,” she said. “It is possible he ran into Bramley on one of those walks. Oh, Daniel, do you think he really will run back to Bramley? Do you think Bramley will bring his army down upon us?”

Daniel looked at her, seeing the fear and the grief. She had been dealt a terrible blow this day, on two accounts – her brother’s shocking connection with Bramley and the fact that the man murdered Etzel. As if her father’s death, in of itself, wasn’t bad enough. Shaking his head, he put his arm around her and kissed her forehead in full view of the men manning the front gates. He didn’t care who saw him.

“It is hard to say,” he said. “But I will be sending a missive to Netherghyll immediately. I told Easton that I did not want him to become involved in Shadowmoor’s problems, but with your father gone, I fear those problems have escalated. Can you find me a man who would swiftly ride to Netherghyll?”

Liselotte nodded, speaking to the man in charge of the gate, who, in turn, began shouting to other men. The wheels were in motion as Daniel and Liselotte headed back to the hall to absorb what had happened with Brynner, and with Etzel, and plan a course of action. With Etzel’s death, much had changed. Much more than they realized.

One issue, of course, was that Daniel had just chased off the new Lord of Shadowmoor, the man legally entitled to the fortress. That made him something of a thief. The whole situation had him needing to sit down and think things through. Much had changed. Much was
going
to change.

Daniel had a feeling it was going to get much worse before it got better. But one thing was for certain; he wasn’t going to give up Liselotte, or Shadowmoor, without a fight.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lioncross Abbey Castle

Near Lyonshall, Welsh Marches

Seven days later

“T
his came for
you, my lord. It looks as if it is from Daniel.”

Christopher de Lohr was seated at the great feasting table in the enormous two-storied hall of Lioncross Abbey, his seat. He was a very old man by any standard, now in his seventy-seventh year, but he looked much younger. He acted much younger, too. His once-blond hair was now snowy white and the neatly-trimmed beard he took such pride in was darker, speckled with gray. In spite of his age, he was still sharp and still powerful, and bore the wisdom of a man who had seen much in his years on earth. He was a great man and much respected for a life well-lived.

As now, he was reaping the rewards of his life, of a big family and many sons. He had just finished a big meal and was in the process of playing with two of his grandsons, children of his younger son, Myles. The boys had toy soldiers and, being a dutiful grandfather, Christopher was prepared to wage war with them. But words from the knight who had entered the warm and fragrant hall had him distracted.

“What is it?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

The knight who had spoken was a very big man dressed in mail and a tunic bearing the colors of the Earl of Canterbury. Sir Maddoc du Bois had a missive in his hand and extended it to Christopher. But the earl had his hands full of toy soldiers and he had to set them down in order to receive the missive. He peered at the wax seal.

“That,” he said, “is the seal of Lord Thorndon, my brother’s Prodigal Son. And what are you doing bringing me this missive? I thought you were returning to Canterbury.”

Maddoc grinned; an exceptionally handsome man with black hair and bright blue eyes, he was the Earl of Canterbury’s captain. He’d come to Lioncross on business a week ago, delivering some kind of coinage and gifts from Canterbury to his brother, and with his task finished, he was eager to return home to his new wife. But a missive from Daniel had him pausing in that determination to depart, mostly because he and Daniel were the best of friends and he was eager to know news of his friend. It didn’t come often enough as far as Maddoc was concerned. He missed his friend.

“I was at the gate when the messenger arrived,” he said. “All the way from West Yorkshire. The man has been riding for six and a half days, very long days I would imagine if he made it to the Marches in such good time. He said the missive was important so I thought I would bring it to you personally. I would like to hear why Daniel has sent a messenger all the way from West Yorkshire.”

Christopher lifted his eyebrows. “I am interested as well,” he admitted. “It is not like Daniel to send me a missive. I cannot recall when last he has done such a thing.”

Maddoc scratched his neck. “There was that time that he was in trouble with a baron from Nottinghamshire,” he said casually. “Something about compromising his daughter, as I recall. He did not want his father to know.”

Christopher grunted as he broke the seal. “You heard about that one, did you?”

“Daniel told me. He always sends missives to you when he does not want your brother to know.”

Christopher paused in unfolding the missive, looking to Maddoc. “I swear to you, if this is another missive asking for money to pay off another angry father, I will have you take this straight to my brother and let him deal with it,” he declared. “Or if this is about money, asking to bail him out of a gaol because he has done something foolish, I will not pay it. I will let him rot there.”

He said it rather passionately, unusual for the usually calm man, and Maddoc simply shook his head. “Nay, you will not, my lord.”

“Nay, I will not!”

Maddoc broke down into soft laughter as Christopher unfolded the remainder of the missive and began to read. Truth be told, Maddoc was extremely curious as to the contents of the missive and, as he said, for the fact that Daniel was sending it to Christopher and not to his father. It had to mean there was something seriously the matter, something he didn’t want his father to know. Maddoc watched Christopher’s face as the man read the contents. He watched Christopher’s expression tighten.

“God’s Beard,” Christopher finally muttered. “It seems our boy has happed upon a situation he has gotten himself involved in.”

Maddoc’s brow furrowed in curiosity as Christopher read the missive again and then handed it to Maddoc so he, too, could read it. As Christopher sat there and pondered the missive’s contents, Maddoc read through it, equally puzzled and concerned. When he was finished, he looked at Christopher.

“Roland Fitzroy?” he repeated. “I’ve not heard of the man, my lord. Have you?”

Christopher shook his head. “I have not,” he said. “I have, however, heard of Joan of Wales. She is John’s bastard from a noble Welshwoman.”

Maddoc looked at the missive again. “So this man claims he is her brother, and by that relation a nephew to the king, and he has been harassing a castle to the point of starvation because he wants the heiress?” He was looking at the missive as he spoke. “Daniel always did have the knack of finding trouble like this and championing the persecuted. So now he has found another cause and asks for your military assistance.”

Christopher sighed heavily. “You are missing the point,” he said quietly because his grandsons were still within earshot and he didn’t want them to hear anything negative about their Uncle Daniel. “The key word in that entire missive is ‘heiress’. Daniel is doing this because of a woman.”

Maddoc was forced to agree. “But it sounds as if there is genuine trouble, my lord,” he said. “You know Daniel would not have asked you for help unless there was a serious need. He would have simply figured it out himself without any assistance if it was at all possible.”

“That is true.”

Maddoc set the missive down on the table. “If you are considering not sending him the aid he asks for, look at it this way, my lord,” he said. “If Daniel is sending you this request, he is not on the periphery of the situation. He is in the middle of it. If you do not send him the help he needs, there could be devastating consequences. You do not want to have to tell your brother that you did not send his only son help when he requested it and, as a result, something terrible happened.”

Christopher pursed his lips irritably. “Spoken like a true advocate of Daniel and his foolishness,” he said. He sighed heavily. “I will send him what he asks for. I never considered otherwise. But I am going to send him some knights as well, men in command of my army to assess the situation and see just how real the need is. If it is simply foolishness, then the knights will be under order to return my army at once. But if the need is real….”

Maddoc understood. He sighed. “My lord, you know as well as I do that Daniel is not foolish when it comes to battle or military exercises,” he said. “He is the best commander I have ever seen. It is simply in his personal life where the lines blur.”

Christopher thumped at the missive. “He speaks of an heiress,” he said. “The lines are already blurred. But I will admit again that Daniel would not have asked for my help if he did not feel this to be a very serious situation. And I have a feeling his father would want to know this. So why ask me for help?”

Maddoc shrugged. “Because you are not as far away as Canterbury,” he said simply. “You can reach him faster.”

“Then the situation must be critical.”

“That is my thought as well, my lord.”

Christopher looked at Maddoc. “How would you like to ride to West Yorkshire and see for yourself what Daniel has gotten himself in to?” he asked. “You are his dearest friend, Maddoc. I have a feeling he might require your counsel. You seem to be the only one who has ever been able to communicate well with him. He just laughs at the rest of us, hugs us, and tells us how much he loves us. Then he goes off and does whatever he pleases.”

Maddoc grinned. “I will admit I am very curious about what situation he is in,” he said. “But more than that, I am anxious to see him. I suppose I could spare a few weeks to see what is happening and then report back to you and to his father. It might give Lord David comfort to know I saw the situation with my own eyes.”

Christopher nodded. His gaze lingered on the missive a moment. “Maddoc,” he said, “when you first arrived and I asked you how my brother’s health was, you would not look me in the eye when you told me he was well. Why is that?”

It was a swift change in subject. Maddoc seemed to falter a bit. “I do not recall not looking at you, my lord.”

“You did not. And you always look men in the eye.” He looked up from the missive, fixing Maddoc with those great wise eyes. “His health has not improved since that illness he suffered last winter, has it?”

Maddoc took a long deep breath. “Not much, my lord.”

“Is he dying?”

Maddoc shook his head. “I do not know, my lord.”

Christopher continued to hold his gaze but, as Maddoc watched, tears began to fill the sky blue eyes. “I do not intend to outlive my little brother, you know. I could not stand it. If he is truly ill, Maddoc, you must tell me. I must go to him.”

Maddoc was shocked to see the tears in Christopher’s eyes. “He has not recovered well from the sickness in his chest, my lord,” he said. “He is better, but not completely well. Lady Emilie has engaged a physic who lives at Canterbury and tends him daily. He is the same physic who tended me when I was so badly wounded last year. If anyone can nurse your brother through this, he can. I have great faith in his abilities.”

Christopher’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before he sniffled loudly and hastily wiped his eyes, looking to see if his grandsons had witnessed his emotional outburst. Thankfully, they seemed oblivious.

“Then mayhap it is better that my brother did not receive this missive,” he said. “Maddoc, find de Russe and send him to me. I will have you and Marc muster an army of five hundred men and march them north to West Yorkshire. A smaller army will move faster than a larger one. Go to this place, this Shadowmoor north of Bradford, and discover the truth of the situation. If it is truly serious, then send me word and I will send thousands of men northward. Meanwhile… meanwhile, I do think I should tell my brother something about this. He needs to know the whereabouts and status of his son. That is only fair.”

Maddoc nodded. “Agreed, my lord.”

“Get about your business, then,” Christopher said as he turned back to his grandsons. “And, Maddoc?”

“Aye, my lord?”

“If Daniel really has gotten himself into a foolish mess, I hope you will punch him right in the nose.”