Devil's Dominion (44 page)

Keller wasn’t hard pressed to agree. “Wales has been, as of late, relatively peaceful,” he said. “This mercenary along the Marches is the first serious threat I have encountered in several months. In fact, knowing his scope in Powys, I took the long way around him from Nether Castle, mostly because I did not want to engage him. I know he is moving his army around in the mid-Marches and did not want to chance running into him, so we moved straight across Wales into Shropshire and then down to Lioncross.”

Christopher nodded. “I can understand your caution,” he said. “I am inclined to move on Cloryn Castle, the mercenary’s seat, before the week is out if we can agree on a strategy. But before we convene a war council, you should know something else. Now that Berwyn has left, I can speak freely about it. It may be a gift from heaven or it may be a great disappointment. In any case, in speaking with de Velt I learned that he did not kill everyone at Four Crosses. He retained some men for slave labor, including one knight with a serious head injury who calls himself John Morgan. You must understand that Bretton de Llion’s father’s name was Morgan, and it is quite possible that John Morgan is really Bretton’s father. John Morgan current serves Yves de Vesci as his personal bodyguard and I have sent word to de Vesci asking him to send John Morgan to us so that we may see if he is, indeed, the mercenary’s father. If he is, then it is quite possible the battle will be over before it begins. But if it is not his father, then we must be prepared to strike and strike hard.”

Keller digested what he was told. After a moment, he shook his head with some amazement. “That is an incredible story,” he said. “Let us hope the man is indeed de Llion’s father.”

“Agreed.”

“How long ago did you send word to de Vesci?”

“About a month. I expect to see John Morgan any day now.”

Keller reached for a wine cup in the middle of the table, pouring himself a measure of rich, red wine. “That is a reasonable time frame, even traveling from the north,” he said. “And you say Berwyn does not know that his son may indeed be alive?”

Christopher shook his head. “Nay,” he replied quietly. “You saw how he reacted to de Velt. One more shock and we may lose him altogether.”

Keller took a long drink of wine. “But you are going to have to tell him, eventually.”

Christopher glanced at Jax, who shrugged. “I thought it would better if we did not tell him anything,” he said. “Let John Morgan show himself and then we shall see if Berwyn recognizes him. If he does, then it will be a wonderful reunion. If not, then we did not get an old man’s hopes up.”

Keller sat there, toying with his wine cup, thinking on Christopher’s strategy. Although the story of John Morgan was an incredible one, something didn’t make sense to him. After several pensive moments, he spoke softly.

“Do you not think that if John Morgan was really Bretton de Llion’s father, he would have contacted Berwyn long ago?” he asked softly. “I would think that he would have contacted his own father simply to let him know that he was alive.”

Jax interjected himself into the conversation. “John Morgan suffered a head injury during the siege of Four Crosses,” he said. “He could only tell us his name was Morgan and not much more. It was my men who gave him the name John Morgan. He was as strong as a bull but his head injury was severe enough that he could not think well for himself. I gave him over to de Vesci as a personal guard because the man didn’t have much of a mind of his own and de Vesci wanted someone close to him who could be easily ordered about. John Morgan fit that role well. I had no more use for the man so de Vesci took him.”

Keller listened intently, reasoning through the situation. “If John Morgan really is Bretton de Llion’s father,” he said, “then will he even know it? What if he is the father and we present him to de Llion, but Morgan has no knowledge that the man is his son? Worse yet, what if he shuns him? That could go very badly in our favor, worse than if we hadn’t presented the father at all.”

Christopher could see his logic. “That is a good point, but I am willing to take the chance,” he said. “In any case, we must unbalance de Llion and take advantage of that chaos. We must stop the man once and for all, and regain de Velt’s daughter in the process.”

Keller poured himself more wine. “Then what do you have in mind?”

Christopher, too, poured himself some wine from another pitcher. He found he needed it. “We have two options, in my opinion,” he said. “We present John Morgan to de Llion and pray the man is his father. If he is, then we do an exchange – Morgan for Lady Allaston.”

“But Berwyn will know his own son,” Jax interjected. “If Morgan arrives at Lioncross first, and Berwyn is still here, then surely the father will recognize his own son, therefore, we will know
before
engaging de Llion if John Morgan is really his father. If he is not, then we must make a secondary plan.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, assessing the possibilities. Jax had made a very good point. Behind Keller, William Wellesbourne cleared his throat softly to gain their attention.

“If I may, my lords,” he said, leaning forward on the table so he could better look those around it in the eye. “If John Morgan is not de Llion’s father, we still have a man related to him within our grasp – his grandfather. Mayhap Berwyn would use himself in exchange for de Velt’s daughter.”

Christopher nodded. “It is as good a plan as any,” he said. “I will approach Berwyn with it when the man has sufficiently calmed. Until then, let us enjoy this wine and this food and entertain further possibilities. I, for one, am more interested in learning about Keller’s terrible cousin that he was going to have to kill. Keller, you have my interest. Who was this awful man? Did I know him?”

Keller didn’t want to discuss his terrible cousin as wine was passed around and bread was distributed. The serious meeting had loosened up and soon they were speaking of things other than war and destruction. Christopher had just launched into a story that involved himself, his brother, a knight named Sir Kieran Hage, and an encounter with an angry potentate in The Levant when Edward suddenly entered the hall.

“Chris,” he called gravely. “You had better come.”

Christopher knew that tone and he didn’t like it. He set his wine cup down and turned to Edward.

“What has happened?” he demanded. “Is Berwyn well?”

Edward was oddly pale, avoiding the question about Berwyn.

“We just received two riders,” he said. “One rider is the messenger we sent to Northumberland those weeks ago, and the second rider is a man he brought with him from Northumberland by the name of John Morgan.”

Everyone at the table stood up at that moment, including Christopher. The air was instantly full of anticipation, of foreboding, as the entire future hung in the balance with the course of the next few words. They all knew the stakes. They all knew what this moment would mean. Now that it was upon them, the air was fairly crackling with anxiety. Christopher could hardly spit the words out.

“Where is Berwyn?” he asked.

“He was in the bailey when the men rode in.”

“Has he seen the man?”

“Aye.”

Christopher was ready to explode. “And?” he demanded, charging away from the table as he headed for the keep entry that led out to the bailey beyond. “Damnation, what has happened? Is John Morgan missing a finger?”

Edward grabbed Christopher before the man could storm past him, an unusual gesture but one wrought with the emotion of the moment. All eyes were on Edward as the man, his hands on Christopher’s big arms, looked him squarely in the eye. The next two words sealed the fate of the future.

“
He is.”

℘

Christopher’s first glimpse of what should have been a happy family reunion was, in fact, not happy at all. By the time Christopher and the other knights raced from the hall and reached the bailey, they saw Rod picking Berwyn up off the ground several feet away. Standing in front of Berwyn was a very big man with a bald-shaved, scarred head and brilliant blue eyes. Once Rod picked Berwyn up, the old man ran at the bald man again and, as it had happened before, the bald man shoved the old man away, causing him to fall to the ground. Berwyn lay there and wept.

Christopher ran up, putting himself between Berwyn and the big, bald warrior so that Berwyn wouldn’t charge him again. Jax, who was right behind him, walked up to the bald man and caught his attention.

“John Morgan,” he said. “I am de Velt. Do you remember me?”

The bald man’s attention shifted from Berwyn as he studied Jax for several long seconds before nodding. “I do, my lord.”

Jax glanced at Berwyn, who was now being held up by Rod. “Why did you push that man down?” he asked.

John Morgan looked at Berwyn as if confused by the question. “He attacked me, my lord.”

Rod, holding on to his grandfather, grunted. “He did not attack him,” he said quietly, with great remorse. “He ran to hug him.”

Berwyn was weeping into his hands. “My son,” he cried softly. “My Morgan. He is alive!”

So it was true. John Morgan was, in reality, Sir Morgan de Llion, only he had no knowledge of it and no idea that Berwyn was, in reality, his father. There was no recognition there whatsoever. Looking at the scarred head of the man and listening to his slurred, simple speech, it became clear that John Morgan was a dense and damaged individual.

Christopher sighed heavily, thinking the circumstance to be tragic on so many levels. Now, he had his answer about John Morgan but it didn’t turn out as he’d hoped. He faced the big, bald man with the brilliant blue eyes.

“I am Christopher de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester,” he told the man. “It was I who summoned you from Alnwick. Do you understand what I have told you so far?”

Morgan nodded. “Aye, my lord.”

Christopher eyed Jax, thinking how to simply phrase the situation, before continuing. “Do you remember how you came into the service of de Vesci?”

Morgan nodded. “I was gifted to him by Sir Jax, my lord.”

“Do you remember how you came to be in Sir Jax’s service?”

That question seemed to stump Morgan. He began to look around, confused, as if someone would clue him into the correct answer. Jax picked up where Christopher left off.

“You came into my service during the siege of Four Crosses Castle in Wales,” he said. “Does that name sound familiar to you?”

Morgan still had that blank look about him. “Nay, my lord.”

Jax sighed and looked to Christopher for help. It was clear that Morgan remembered nothing of his distant past, at least prior to the head injury during the battle at Four Crosses. Jax hadn’t been around the man in years and truthfully didn’t remember much about him except he had been found at Four Crosses crawling out of the moat with a terrible head injury, the scar of which could be seen across his forehead. It ran the length of his forehead and back onto the left side of his head. No one knew how he got it but it looked as if an axe blade had been leveled at him and, it was suspected, he had toppled off the walls and into the moat. It was a miracle the man survived at all but the damage to his mind, his memory, was evident. As Morgan’s father wept a few feet away, it was obvious that Morgan didn’t recognize him in the least.

Christopher, realizing the devastation of the scene, met Jax’s gaze but he was at a loss as to what to do about it. With a faint shrug at Jax, he turned to Rod, standing behind him with Berwyn.

“Rod,” he said quietly. “Take Berwyn into my solar. I will join you shortly.”

Rod did as he was told but Berwyn did not want to go. He wanted to be with his son, even if the man had no memory of him. Edward had to step in again and help Rod remove Berwyn to the keep, and the weeping of the old man faded away. But that left Jax, Christopher, Keller, and several other knights standing around, wondering what to do. Christopher finally motioned Jax away from Morgan, pulling the man into a private huddle which Keller joined. The three of them had some hard decision to make.

“Now what?” Keller asked. “Do you mean to tell me that de Vesci’s man is, in fact, the father of the mercenary? A man thought to have been killed twenty-five years ago?”

Jax and Christopher both nodded. “It has been confirmed,” Jax said. “But it is apparent John Morgan has no memory of his life as Morgan de Llion.”