Devil's Dominion (27 page)

Christopher listened to the man’s word with interest. He certainly sounded sincere. In fact, he seemed rather docile, calm, and reasonable, not at all like the Jax de Velt of legend. It was rather perplexing and he struggled not to let that confusion show but he simply couldn’t help himself.

“I
am
speaking with the Ajax de Velt that tore through the Marches twenty-five years ago and confiscated six castles, am I not?” he asked. He felt as if he had to. “You are the one who killed men, women, and children by impaling them on poles and then posting the bodies for all to see, are you not? It
is
The Dark Lord I am speaking to?”

Jax nodded patiently. “It is I,” he said. “I am sorry to disappoint you. Mayhap you were expecting lightning bolts to shoot out of my eyes and fire to belch forth out of my mouth?”

Christopher nodded honestly. “I was expecting to see horns and cloven feet at the very least.”

“I have yet to remove my boots so you may yet be satisfied.”

It was spoken with humor, an unexpected element added to the conversation. Christopher’s lips twitched with a smile.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Leave some air of mystery about you. I have never met a legend before.”

“Nor have I until now.”

It was a compliment. Christopher had to admit that he was feeling more at ease with de Velt, a man who seemed to understand the terror he caused and was not beyond accepting it and even making fun of it, as dark as that period in time was. But there was still an air of uncertainty to the conversation and Christopher addressed it.

“You are not here to burn my town and lay siege to my castle, are you?” he asked. “This counsel request is not a ruse, is it?”

Jax shook his head firmly. “I swear that it is not,” he said. “I come with entirely peaceful intentions, contrary to what you would believe of me. I have come to you because… because I need help.”

Christopher’s eyebrows rose. “The great Ajax de Velt needs help?” he repeated. “I am astonished. Since when do you need help from anyone?”

Jax nodded as if accepting what Christopher was saying. “It is a rare occasion but in this case, it is true,” he said. His eyes took on a grim glimmer. “There is a mercenary along the Marches who has abducted my daughter. He has asked me to come to him if I wish to keep her in good health. I have come to see if you have heard anything about this mercenary and, if so, find out what you have heard. I know nothing about the man other than he has my child. I want her back.”

So it was as Christopher had suspected. The man was here as a result of de Llion’s rampage. But, truly, this wasn’t a path he had ever considered, de Velt coming to him to discuss the situation. They had all believed Jax would go straight after the mercenary. But in reflection, it made sense because Christopher was one of the most powerful marcher lords and would inevitably know what happened along that stretch of border. The Jax de Velt he’d heard tale of was an inhuman beast bent on destruction. The man before him did not fit that mold.

Christopher’s eyes studied Jax as he took a few steps closer, to within a few feet of him. Standing before him was the most feared warlord England had ever seen. De Velt’s brutalities were legendary. But all Christopher could see at the moment was a father who wanted to save his daughter. Perhaps it was foolish of him to see that and only that, but having two young daughters of his own, Christopher could understand a father’s anguish, even a father as fearsome as Ajax de Velt.

“We heard about Alberbury,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “We heard that a mercenary took your daughter.”

Jax’s features filled with hope. “Then you know about this?” he asked. “Will you please tell me what you know?”

Christopher nodded. “I will,” he said. “Inside, over a pitcher of wine and some food. I am famished.”

He motioned to de Velt to follow, who hesitantly complied. Christopher called to the sentries to lift the portcullis and slowly, the big iron fangs began to lift. Like the great parting of the Red Sea, Christopher moved through the gatehouse with Jax next to him, and men fell away as if they’d been pushed. No one had been this close to de Velt and had lived to tell about it. Men backed off as if Lucifer himself had made an appearance.

The two men made it to the steps leading into the keep as most of the population of Lioncross looked on. It was the great benevolent earl who had guided the course of a kingdom and the warlord who had struck more fear into the hearts of men than anyone had ever done. It was a historic moment, not lost on those who witnessed it.

When they finally disappeared into the dark recesses of the keep, there were those who still couldn’t believe what they had witnessed. It was a moment in time that would live in their minds forever.

℘

Jax wasn’t surprised that de Lohr’s men were staring at him with a mixture of apprehension and hostility. It was odd, truly, for a man who never really traveled much out of his home or comfort zone to be in a strange castle and surrounded by strange men. Jax didn’t often get a chance to talk to men he didn’t know and he was mildly nervous because of it. More than that, he was completely without his weapons and vulnerable. That, more than anything, made him nervous. It was a situation he had never found himself in. He was completely at de Lohr’s mercy.

But de Lohr had been a gracious host so far. He had taken de Velt into his home, into his keep, and made him comfortable in the great hall. It was a long room with a minstrel gallery above and living quarters on the second and third floors. There was a massive fireplace and fresh rushes strewn about, but no dogs which Jax found strange. He sat at the long, scrubbed feasting table that filled up the center of Lioncross’ great hall, his back to the hearth because it made him doubly nervous to have his back against anything else. He figured it would be more difficult for a man to sneak up behind him if he saw the shadows thrown from the firelight behind. Therefore, he sat tensely as de Lohr and a few of his men settled in across from him.

A handsome knight with ruddy skin and golden eyes gazed at him steadily from his position at de Lohr’s right hand, while on the other side of de Lohr sat a knight who could have very well been Jax’s brother with shoulder-length dark curls and brown eyes. He had the look of a barbarian about him. There were a few soldiers in the hall but they lingered near the entry. Jax made sure to keep track of everyone in the room, and everyone coming and going from the room including the servants. The longer he sat there, the more uncomfortable he grew.

De Lohr must have sensed that. He had servants bring in wine, bread, cheese, and fruit, and all of it was placed on the table between them. He indicated for de Velt to serve himself first, but Jax only took a small measure of wine. He wasn’t hungry. He wanted to know what de Lohr knew about Allaston and was becoming increasingly impatient with the delay.

“So,” Christopher began as he poured himself some wine. “Allow me to introduce to you two of my close friends and knights. This is Edward de Wolfe to my right and Max Cornwallis to my left. They have served me for many years, including in The Levant. You did not go to The Levant, did you?”

Jax shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “My fealty at the time did not include the King of England.”

Christopher had an amused twinkle in his eye. “And now?”

“It does,” he said, the paused before continuing. “But I do not much like him.”

“Neither do I.”

Jax cracked a faint smile. “As I recall, you were Richard’s champion at one time,” he said. “Since John hated his brother, how does the king treat you?”

Christopher grinned, scratching casually at his head. “Very carefully,” he said. “Much as I do not wish to anger you, he does not wish to anger me. We have history, John and I. He tries to stay clear of me as much as he can.”

Jax took a drink of his wine, a fine red varietal. He smacked his lips. “He has asked de Vesci to maintain the borders against Scotland that parallel Northumberland,” he said. “My only brush with combat in recent years is where it pertains to the Scots borders.”

“And how are the Scots these days?”

“Quiet,” Jax replied. “William has some internal struggles, but he still holds his kingdom. Any action we see from the Scots are raids, not organized onslaughts.”

That was interesting news for Christopher, sitting along the Welsh Marches as he did. Often, Scotland seemed like a world away. Besides, he had his own troubles in Wales, and ones that de Velt was interested in. He set his cup down.

“That is good to know,” he said. “Trouble along one border is quite enough. That being said, let us address the reason for your visit. I will tell you what I know - we received word from Robert de Boulers, Earl of Shropshire, that there was a mighty army sweeping through his lands, conquering or destroying everything in their path. They laid siege to Clun Castle and Knighton, badly damaging the castles and stripping them of nearly everything of value before moving to the Marches and taking Cloryn Castle. Then, they moved north where they raided Dolforwyn Castle, moved north into Shropshire, and burned Alberbury Priory to the ground. That is where your daughter was, am I correct?”

Jax was listening intently. “Aye,” he nodded, sounding disheartened. “Allaston wanted to join the cloister at a young age. She was always a very pious girl but she had an unfortunate stubborn and brash streak in her. Her mother and I told her that the nuns would not accept such behavior, but she insisted that she wanted to serve God, so when she turned nineteen years of age, we permitted her to commit herself to Alberbury. I am a patron, you see. I donate three hundred crowns a year to Alberbury, which is her dowry, so they were more than willing to take her.”

Christopher understood something about stubborn women, considering he had married one. “How did you find out about the abduction?” he asked. “We were told the mercenary left one solitary nun alive to deliver the message to you.”

Jax shook his head. “I know nothing about an old nun,” he said. “I received a missive declaring terms from who, I assume, is the mercenary himself. A mass of my daughter’s hair was enclosed with it. A week prior to that, however, I received a severed head that I determined to belong to my garrison commander at Ithon Castle. Although there was no written message, it was my first hint that something was amiss at my properties.”

Christopher pondered that bit of information. “I see,” he muttered. “Then Ithon is compromised also?”

“I would assume so.”

Christopher fell silent for a moment, deliberating the conquest of Ithon. He hadn’t heard that. But soon his attention moved from Ithon’s conquest to the part about the hair. As a father himself, he could only imagine how de Velt felt receiving his daughter’s hair along with the threatening note.

“De Boulers found out about the mercenary’s activities because of the old nun,” he said. “Somehow, someway, the commander of this mercenary army discovered your daughter was at Alberbury. The man bloody well destroyed the place to get to her.”

Jax was trying not to appear sickened by the thought. “He wanted her very badly,” he muttered. “He is using her to get to me. He knows I will not stay away if she is in danger and that is evidently what he wants – a confrontation with me.”

Christopher glanced at Edward to see if he could read the man’s expression. Edward seemed very intent on studying de Velt, analyzing the man. Edward was very good at that sort of thing. When he noticed that Christopher was looking at him, he cleared his throat softly and spoke.

“We were told that the mercenary army is from Ireland,” he said. “They are not Welsh, and they are certainly not English, but whatever they are doing emulates the pattern you set twenty-five years ago when you moved over the Marches. Do you see the pattern with this, my lord?”

Jax looked at the older knight. “I do,” he said. “If what you have said is accurate, everything on that list was a location I engaged except for Alberbury.”

“Which means he will more than likely move on your other holdings very soon,” Christopher said. “I was not here those years ago when you claimed those castles. Is he moving in the order you moved in?”

Jax nodded. “Indeed he is,” he said. “If his pattern holds true, he will move on Comen next.”

“Do your men still man those castles?”

“They do.”

“Then mayhap you should tell them to vacate,” Christopher said. “They may come here if they wish. I will shelter them until you can figure out what you need to do.”

Jax looked at him with a good deal of astonishment. “You would
do
this?” he asked, trying to keep the incredulity out of his tone. Then, he shook his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing. “
Why
would you do this?”

Christopher kept an even expression. “You came to me for help,” he said. “I am offering it. Your men are in the path of destruction. Will you leave them to die or will you move them out?”

Jax just stared at him. It was clear that he was having difficulty accepting that de Lohr was being so generous with him. After a moment, he began to shake his head in disbelief. “You know who I am,” he said, showing more force in his personality than he had since his arrival. “You know very well what my name means. You know what I did along the Marches those years ago. If I wanted your castle, de Lohr, it would not have mattered who you were or how well respected you were. I would have taken it and I would have put you on a stake, you above all else because of your title and name, and I would have planted that stake right outside of the walls of this castle for all to see. I would have done it and I would not have cared about anything other than my victory. You understand that, do you not?”