Medieval Master Warlords (52 page)

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?”

Christopher could see a hint of the killer in the man as he spoke, but he responded calmly. “I understand,” he said. “But I also understand that you haven’t done that kind of thing in over twenty years. You said you stopped when you met your wife. I, too, was something of a focused man before I met my wife. I earned a reputation no one has surpassed and that was all I cared about. The men I killed were on the sands of The Levant, Muslims fighting for the land they were born in, but I didn’t care. I cut their heads off and mounted them on spikes. I wasn’t fighting for England at that point. I was fighting for me because I wanted the glory and I got it. But the man that I was long ago no longer exists, just as I believe the man you were long ago no longer exists. Am I wrong in this assumption?”

Jax shook his head slowly, his gaze riveted to Christopher’s. “Nay,” he said. “When I met my wife, all things changed.”

“What a coincidence. The same thing happened to me.”

The statement had a humorous ring to it and Jax fought off a smile. “The woman I married is stronger than I am,” he said. “I suspect the same thing can be said for your wife.”

Christopher nodded. “She is strong beyond comprehension,” he replied. “But that brings me to the point – you are no longer the killer you used to be. I understand that. But I also understand that this mercenary has challenged the man who once existed. If you confront him now, as you are, then you will be confronting him as an emotional father and that will be your downfall. Do you want my advice in this matter? I hope you do because I am going to tell you whether or not you want to hear it. This mercenary is as you were twenty-five years ago, a soulless beast. When you confront him, you are going to have to draw on that monster that has long been dormant inside of you. He is still there. I caught a glimpse of him only a moment ago. You will have to become the monster again if you want to save your daughter. The mercenary commander is calling forth Lucifer and Lucifer must appear.”

Jax listened to him seriously. Everything he said made perfect sense. He paused, sighed heavily and moved to pour himself more wine. He was coming to need it.

“May I tell you the truth?” he asked softly.

Christopher nodded. “Please.”

Jax eyed him as he set the pitcher down. “My wife sent me here to see you,” he said. “She is afraid that if I confront this mercenary, that it will only agitate him. She knows the man is out for my blood and she is terrified that she will lose both her husband and her daughter in this crisis. You are a man with a great reputation for wisdom and fairness. She wants me to ask you if you will be an intermediary between me and the mercenary. She hopes that by dealing with you, the man who holds my daughter will be less confrontational. He may even be willing to negotiate. I realize I do not know you, de Lohr. We are not friends or allies, and what I ask of you is terribly bold. But I ask on behalf of my wife who is terrified for my life and for the life of our daughter. I do not wish to pull you into a blood feud, but I pray that you will consider it.
That
is the help I was coming to ask from you. I swear to you that if you assist me with this, I shall ever be in your debt. All you need do is call and I will ride for you. My sword will be yours. Mayhap it is not much, but it is all I have to offer – myself.”

Christopher didn’t say anything for a moment. He just sat and looked at him and it was clear that there were many thoughts running through his head. Many, indeed. After a few moments of deliberation, he turned to Edward.

“Send Dustin to me,” he said softly.

Eyeing de Velt, Edward stood up from the table and left the hall, taking the stairs just inside the entry to the living quarters above. Jax watched the man go and when he disappeared from view, he couldn’t help but look to Christopher curiously. Christopher smiled weakly and picked up the pitcher of wine.

“A moment, please,” he said, pouring more into Jax’s cup as he shifted the subject. “I purchased this wine in London last fall. It comes from a region in France where the monks tend these tiny dark grapes. My wife is quite fond of it but I warn you, it will get you drunk quite fast if you do not pace yourself. That has happened to me a few times.”

Jax took his cup and drank deeply. “It is very good,” he said. “Sweet. My wife would like it as well, as she tends to like sweet wines. Anything else puts her to sleep.”

Christopher set the pitcher down and collected his own cup. “Tell me of your wife,” he said. “What is her name?”

“Kellington,” Jax replied. “Lady Kellington Coleby de Velt.”

“And how did your marriage come about? Were your families allies?”

Jax tried not to look too embarrassed. “Nay,” he grunted, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. “One of those castles I confiscated… she was a captive.”

Christopher was amused. “I suppose that is one way to meet women,” he said. “Did you force her to marry you?”

Jax struggled not to grin. “We fell in love,” he said. “After I had killed all of her friends, of course. It would be fair to say that our beginnings were quite rough, but in spite of everything, we managed to become fond of each other. I have loved the woman madly for twenty-five years.”

Christopher grinned. “You sincerely do not appear to me like the killer of legend,” he said. “You seem quite normal, in fact, because only a man with feeling and conscience would admit to loving a woman. I still can hardly believe you are Ajax de Velt, the Beast Who Destroyed the Marches.”

Jax let his smile break free, grinning at Christopher over the top of his wine cup. “I will tell you a secret.”

“What?”

“I really would not have gone after Lioncross Abbey those years ago. There are some men I will attack and some I will not. I am not entirely sure I would be victorious over you, so it is better not to try.”