Serpent (9 page)

If
Bhrodi had noticed the elderly knights and their impatience with him, he didn’t acknowledge it. Evidently, only The Wolfe was worthy of his attention.

“Nay, it is not magic,” he agreed, his voice quieting. “Truthfully, my grandfather has spoken of it and he said his father before him did as well, but that is as far back as the legend goes. Mayhap it did not come with the Northmen hundreds of years ago as my grandfather said; in fact, the Northmen still come to these parts on occasion, although they have not attacked in recent memory. Have you seen their long ships? Often they have serpent’s heads carved upon the bow to break the waves. That is why my grandfather believes the Northmen brought that serpent with them and left it here to terrorize us.”

William still wasn’t convinced, of anything. “And that is all you know about it?”

“That is all I will tell you.”

It was an evasive answer but William didn’t pursue it. Whatever the creature was, either de Shera wouldn’t tell him all of it, or couldn’t tell him all of it. What mattered now was that they had survived the attack and were now in Rhydilian’s great hall, facing a man with more royal and noble blood in him than most. William tried to keep that in perspective because he wasn’t at all sure he liked or even respected the man for the way they had all been treated.

“Then I will again thank you for riding to our aid,” he finally said. “We had no idea such things even existed and surely no ideas on how to fight it off.”

“Fire is the only thing that works.”

“I deduced that.”

Bhrodi held the man’s gaze for a moment, sensing something edgy in the old, one-eyed knight. He had no doubt that, if challenged, de Wolfe could quite easily put a blade in his belly. Men like de Wolfe had lived to a ripe old age for good reason. Perhaps now it was time to ease the standoffishness and create a more sociable atmosphere. This was a gathering of peace, after all. It was time to be hospitable.

“I suppose we should discuss the reasons for your visit,” he said, turning his back and motioning to Ianto, who disappeared into the shadows. “Please be seated and be comfortable. I will have food and drink brought to you.”

It was the first real show of hospitality and William motioned to his men; Kieran, Paris, Kevin, Scott, Troy, Patrick, and Paris’ son, Apollo, cautiously moved towards the feasting table in the middle of the room, chipped and worn with age, and began to sit. They, like William, were perturbed by de Shera’s attitude and slightly hostile as a result. The younger knights eyed de Shera’s men as they claimed their seats, feeling the uncertain mood settle. They were in enemy lands in an enemy castle. Anything could happen, and they would not be caught off guard.

Accordingly, they all leapt to their feet w
hen the big wardrobe in the shadows rattled and the door suddenly popped open. Kevin went so far as to unsheathe his broadsword when a tiny little man with stringy white hair burst out of the wardrobe, but William held out a calming hand to prevent his knights from doing anything drastic. He kept his eye trained on the small figure who shuffled around back in the shadows. Like his men, he would not be caught off guard.

Bhrodi could see what had the attention of his English visitors and he realized they were startled
by something that was an everyday occurrence to him. He put up his hands as if to force them to relax.

“Have no fear,” he said. “’Tis only my elderly uncle, and he is quite mad. He lives in the wardrobe and only emerges to fight unseen enemies or steal food. He is harmless, I assure you.
When I was a child, however, I use to think he was a ghost. Most frightening.”

William cast him a long glance. “A ghost?”

Bhrodi nodded, turning to look at the tiny man as he battled against unseen forces. “He is my mother’s uncle and he has been mad as long as I can recall,” he said. “He has lived in that wardrobe for at least thirty years, mayhap more. When I was small, I was terrified of the man who lived in the wardrobe and only came out at night.”

“But a ghost?”

Bhrodi shrugged. “If you were five years of age and you saw such madness in the dead of night, what would you think?”

William conceded the point. “That he was a ghost, I suppose,” he replied
. Then, he eyed the man. “Are there any other ghosts or creatures we should know about so that my men are not startled by such things? Startled knights tend to react with deadly consequences, as they are trained.”

Bhrodi shook his head. “Nay, no more oddities that I am aware of,” he said. “But be mindful that my uncle may come into the hall in his quest to vanquish his invisible enemy. He will not harm anyone but do not try to stop him; he must run his course. Just stay out of his way.”

“What happens if someone interferes?”

Bhrodi lifted his eyebrows. “Then my uncle might do some genuine harm,” he said. “He becomes
even more insane if another human being touches him. Therefore, it is best to simply stay out of his way.”

An interesting statement in an evening that had been full of them.
This is a very odd place
, William thought as he glanced over at Paris and Kieran. He knew they were thinking the same thing. Without further delay or questions, but keeping an eye on the strange old man as he battled ghosts, William took a seat at the big feasting table just as Ianto emerged from the shadows with kitchen servants in tow. The servants were weighed down with food and drink, and soon the big and worn table began to fill with warm edibles and cold alcohol.

Bhrodi took a seat across from William where he could better see the man. Ivor and Gwyllim sat on either side of him, and he was eventually joined by Ianto and Yestin as more food was set upon the table
. William and his knights didn’t touch the food until his host did, an example of good English manners, but once Bhrodi reached for a knuckle of beef, it was as if the dam had burst and many English hands were reaching for the presented fare.

In the wake of the feeding frenzy,
mutton was torn apart and all that remained of the beef was a few scraps. There was quite a bit of fish on the table, or at least they thought so, until the English discovered it was eel and they passed on it. No one particularly liked it. There were also bowls of beans and fat green peas, and great loaves of cream-colored bread.

It was a surprisingly lavish feast, but not
completely unexpected considering Bhrodi’s station. The man had access to much and a fortune behind the de Shera name. As the English and Welsh ate silently, eyeing each other across the big table, Bhrodi finally broke the silence.

“
I would assume by your presence, my lord, that you have brought me my bride,” he said, mouth full of beef. “Tell me who you have selected for this auspicious position.”

More arrogance. William heard Paris grunt
unhappily beside him and he elbowed the man to keep him silent.

“I have only three daughters, two of which are already married to fine knights,” he said. “Therefore, I have pledged my youngest daughter as your bride.”

Bhrodi didn’t seemed pleased by the statement; in fact, he appeared suspicious. “Youngest?” he repeated. “
How
young?”

“Penelope has seen twenty years of age.”

Bhrodi’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “
Twenty
years of age?” he repeated, nearly outraged. “She is not young in the least; she is an old maid at that age. Why is she so old? Could you not find her a suitable husband before now?  I will take no cast-offs, de Wolfe.”

William gazed at the man a moment before setting his cup of nearly-finished wine down and rising to his feet. When he stood up, his entire stable of knights stood up with him and when he spoke, it was with the greatest restraint
. The man had finally reached his limit; words were about to be exchanged, and not pleasant ones.

“I came to Wales with the greatest of intentions of securing a peace between your loyalists and mine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I came to Rhydilian with the respect for your station that your bloodlines warranted, but what I found when I got here was a man of such conceit that he vomits it out of every pore of his body, forcing the rest of us to choke on it
. Tell your men to remove their hands from the hilts of their weapons or I will tell my men to charge and we will have a bloodbath. Are we clear? Thank you. As I was saying, I came here with purely noble intentions but I draw the line at you insulting my daughter. Let me make this very clear so there is no mistake; it is
you
who are unworthy of her and unless something drastic changes my mind, I will return to England on the morrow and take her with me. I would rather see her a spinster or a nun than marry a lord so arrogant that he truly believes all of Wales and England is at his beck and call. You have much to learn about graciousness and tact, de Shera, but it would be beneath me to teach it to you. And with that, I will thank you for the meal, and for your assistance earlier, and bid you a good eve.”

William swept from the table with his knights in tow, each one of them eyeing Bhrodi and his men as they followed their liege from the hall. They were hostile glares and perhaps gloating ones. De Wolfe had said everything they wanted to say but were in no position to say it
. The victory, for the evening, had gone to the English, and everyone knew it.

Bhrodi’s men were not so accepting of it, however; Bhrodi practically had to sit on Ivor to keep him quiet and Ianto had Gwyllim by the neck to keep him from charging
. They were clearly outnumbered against the English so to provoke a fight would have more than likely ended badly for them.

Only when the English had cleared the hall did Ianto let go
of Gwyllim and return to his food as if nothing unusual had happened. Truth was, he was very curious to see how Bhrodi would react considering no one had ever said such things to him. Not that it hadn’t been a long time in coming, but no one had ever had the nerve.

Therefore, Ianto sat and waited, watching as Gwyllim began drinking heavily because he was so frustrated.
Ivor had lost his appetite and Yestin seemed to be the only one actively eating and drinking, waiting and watching, as Ianto was, for Bhrodi’s response. It was a tense wait.

Bhrodi, however, had no immediate reaction. He simply gazed at the doorway where the English had disappeared, a cup of wine in his hand. If he was embarrassed, he gave no indication. If he was furious, no one would have known
. His features were utterly devoid of emotion.

Without another word, he set his cup down and quit the hall.

⌘

             
“Was it
that
bad, English?”

             
Jordan’s question was soft but William, animated when in the presence of his family, looked at her as if she had just grievously insulted him.

             
“Of course it was that bad,” he said. “I would not lie to you.”

             
Jordan looked at Paris, who was standing just inside the doorway of the tent they had pitched against the walls of Rhydilian’s bailey. In fact, there were several tents pitched in the enormous bailey because Rhydilian didn’t have accommodations for visitors. They had a great hall, a massive D-shaped keep, and outbuildings. The complex was rather spartan and obviously not meant to house guests.

             
In fact, the de Wolfe party was stuffing the entire east side of the bailey with their men and tents and wagons. The covered traveling wagon that carried the de Wolfe women on long journeys was positioned next to the big family tent. It was long, a fortified box on wheels, and had several shuttered windows that could be propped open to allow for ventilation. It also had two long and cushioned couches in it, one on each side of the wagon, that were also used as beds. On this trip, Penelope had slept in the wagon while her mother had slept with her father in the big tent. Even now, Penelope was in the wagon, busying herself with repairing some damaged mail as her mother and father discussed the first meeting with Bhrodi de Shera in the big tent.

             
It was a meeting that had evidently not gone well. Jordan’s gaze lingered on Paris for the man to either confirm or deny William’s version of the meeting.

             
“Was that how it happened?” she asked Paris. “’Tis hard tae know considering de Shera is tae be Penny’s groom. I doubt Christ himself would be good enough.”

             
But Paris nodded his head in full support of William. “Pompous oaf,” he muttered. “From the moment we entered the hall, ‘twas as if we were no more than insects beneath his feet. The great and mighty Bhrodi de Shera was very clear in that respect and your husband was handling himself quite well until de Shera insulted Penelope.”

             
The doubtful expression vanished from Jordan’s face and she bolted to her feet. “He
insulted
my daughter?” she demanded. “An madra ideal! Beidh mé buille air soundly más rud é go bhfuil an fhírinne!” 
The foolish dog! I will beat him soundly if that is the truth!

             
Jordan lapsing into Gaelic was never a good thing. William could see that there would be more trouble if he didn’t calm his wife; his anger was one thing, but Jordan’s was entirely another. If she was mad enough, she’d go after the man with a dirk. He’d seen it before.