The Falls of Erith (49 page)

He
shook his head.  “It would not interest you.”

She
grabbed his arm. “Please?” she begged. “I have not seen you all day. May I
please sit here with you, quiet, quiet, quiet like a little mouse?”

He
didn’t want to get in a big battle with her; she was incredibly sensitive these
days, raging one minute and weeping the next.  Her pregnancy had been extremely
easy but for the mood swings, something Dallas lived in fear of.   So he nodded
with resignation and sat her down on the bench beside him.  Just as they were
settling in, another figure came in from the bailey.

Niclas
brushed the dust off his breeches as he moved towards the banqueting hall. Lady
Aston had a great revulsion to dust and dirt and would yell at any man who
entered the hall and got her swept floors dirty.  Niclas wasn’t used to a clean
keep; having served for many years at Black Fell, which was a filthy pit of man
stink, he had to retrain himself to behave around a clean and tidy woman.

He
made his way to the table, hoping that Lady Aston would screech at him for
bringing dust into the hall.  He’d come to know her over the past year, since
being gifted from Thomas de Nerra to Dallas to help fill the void of Braxton’s
absence, and she was a very young woman with a keen sense of humor.  Truth was,
Niclas was much more content being a mercenary. He had taken to it easily. Now,
he served Aston as a member of the mercenary army.

Fortunately
for Niclas, Brooke did nothing more than glance at him as he took a seat next
to young Edgar.  With all of his knights seated at the well scrubbed table,
Dallas settled down to business.

“Now,”
he began. “As you know, I received a missive some time ago from Baron
Portington in Humberside soliciting our services for a land dispute he is
having with his neighbor.  I received another missive from  him this morning
pleading for negotiations.   He is offering a great deal of money and I fear I
would be remiss to refuse him.”

“How
much money?” Niclas wanted to know.

Dallas
looked at him. “He is offering us five thousand gold marks simply to come and
speak with him,” he replied. “It is a tidy sum.  Even if we do not take the
job, we will still make money.”

The
knights nodded in agreement. “We made a great deal of money off of the dispute
between North Cliffe and South Cliffe in the spring,” Norman said. “Who ever
heard of two villages going to battle against one another? I believe that is
the first time an entire village hired our services.”

Dallas
had to agree. “We received enough goods and coin from that venture to start our
own country,” he glanced over at his wife, noticing that she was staring at her
hands folded over her belly.  She seemed distracted and he put his big hand
over hers. “And you received more clothing and jewelry than you know what to do
with.”

Brooke
nodded and he squeezed her hands gently. “What is wrong? You do not seem
pleased by it.”

She
lifted her head, looking around the table at her husband’s knights. Then, she
shrugged and lowered her gaze again.

“You
have fought four battles since Braxton and my mother went away,” she couldn’t
even bring herself to tell the truth; all she ever said about them is that the
‘went away’. “You do not tell any of these people that Braxton is no longer
head of his army.  Everyone still thinks he is in charge.”

Dallas’
jovial mood was fading as he squeezed her hand again.  “It is better this way,”
he said quietly. “I told you that people know Braxton’s name. It commands
respect.  No one would know Dallas Aston’s name as a terrifying mercenary. It
makes better business sense to keep all as it has been, including keeping
Braxton’s name, because he may very well return someday.  The army is bigger
and stronger now than it has ever been, and we continue to fight under
Braxton’s banner because it
is
his army.”

She
looked at him. “If the army is bigger and stronger, then why not go back to
Elswick and demand to know what became of my mother and Braxton?” she asked; it
wasn’t the first time she has asked such a thing. “It has almost been a year
and we still do not know.”

It
was an extremely delicate subject with Brooke and Dallas put his arm around
her, kissing her temple.

“Sweetheart,
you know that we have done all we can,” he said softly. “We did as Braxton
wanted; we returned to Erith.  I have sent a missive to Elswick every week
since then asking to know the condition of Braxton and your mother, and every
week I get no response.   If Braxton is still alive, I do not want to
jeopardize anything by riding back to Elswick and demanding answers. They would
perceive it as a threat and Braxton , and your mother, could be put in grave
danger.  All we can do is wait to be contacted by Braxton. You know this.”

She
was staring at her belly; as he watched, she frowned terribly and burst into
tears.

“I
do not want to wait,” she struggled to stand up from the table with her big
belly; she was weary and off-balance. “I want you to take the army back to
Elswick and beat down the walls if they do not tell you what became of my
mother and Braxton.”

Dallas
tried to steady her as the knights thought this was their opportunity to
retreat.  Lady Aston went through this same fit about every other day, and
every other day Dallas would gently soothe her.  He was trying to do what he
thought Braxton would want and his wife disagreed.  It made for a touchy
situation at times.

“Sweetheart,”
Dallas stood up next to her as she tried to pull away. “Do not upset yourself
so.  I know you do not understand, but you must trust me that I know what is
best.”

Brooke
moved away from the table, sobbing unhappily.  Dallas needed to finished his
business with his knights but he needed to soothe her more.  With a glance to
his men, giving them a brief shake of the head to let them know they would have
to discuss the Portington issue at another time, he followed Brooke to the
spiral stairs that led to the upstairs chambers.  He caught up to her about the
time she took the first step, reaching out to pull her into his arms to comfort
her. But his efforts were thwarted by a soldier as the man abruptly burst into
the keep.

It
was a young soldier, one of those gifted to Dallas by Thomas when he had also
gifted Niclas. In fact, Thomas had gifted Braxton’s army with another one
hundred men, bringing his total army to nearly three hundred.  Dallas paused as
the soldier entered, spied his commander, and made his way to him.

“My
lord,” the soldier tried not to notice when Brooke slapped Dallas’ hands away
as she made her way up the stairs. “We have sighted an incoming party about a
half a mile away.”

Dallas
nodded, not particularly concerned. “Banners?”

“None,
my lord.”

“How
big?”

“We
can make out a wagon and four riders.” As Dallas nodded again and prepared to
give an order, the young soldier interrupted him. “I have heard… my lord, that
is to say, I have heard some of the more seasoned men say that one of the
riders looks like de Nerra.”

Brooke
froze on her ascent up the stairs, staring at the soldier, as Dallas’ brow
furrowed.

“Which
de Nerra?” he asked.

“Sir
Braxton, my lord.”

Brooke
gave a hoot and quickly came off the stairs. The other knights, who were in the
process of vacating the hall when the messenger entered, heard the man’s words
also and they began barreling out of the keep.  Dallas moved to follow, trying
to keep a rein on his excited wife so she wouldn’t overly strain herself or,
worse, fall down the stairs in her excitement.  He held on to her all the way
down the stairs that led from the keep into the bailey, pleading for calm from
her even as he bellowed orders to open the gates on the outerwall.

Long
since repaired to her former glory, Erith’s great gates yawned open as soldiers
cranked the wheel that reeled in the chains.   As Dallas had good hold of
Brooke, chargers suddenly bolted past them and he looked up to see Norman,
Edgar and Geoff thundering out onto the road.  Niclas was on foot, standing at
the outer gate house as the gates cranked all the way open.  He bellowed to the
men to take up the slack and secure the chains.

Brooke
stood between the inner and outer wall with Dallas, whimpering softly as the
wagon finally came into view down the long expanse of road.  She could clearly
see when the three chargers met the wagon and she could see the ensuing
commotion, but she couldn’t see who was actually approaching. They were just
too far away.  Dallas had his arm around her shoulders, holding her fast, his
blue eyes riveted to the incoming party. He didn’t want to hold out hope that
what the men said was true.  But as time passed and as the party grew nearer,
he began to recognize one of the mounted men. A slow smile spread across his
face, joy and excitement filling his veins. He kissed his wife on the temple 
as the party drew closer.

“It
is him,” he whispered to her. “It is Braxton.”

Brooke
burst out into loud sobs. “Where is my mother?”

Dallas’
joy and excitement tempered dramatically; he didn’t have an answer for her and
the only one he could come up with was not a pleasing one.  He squeezed her
gently.

“I
do not know, sweetheart,” he said, trying to comfort her. “Perhaps she is in
the wagon and we cannot see her.”

Brooke
was weeping loudly. Suddenly, she broke away from him and began running down
the road towards the wagon.  Dallas easily caught her and stopped her from
running any further, terrified she was going to injure herself and the child. 
But Brooke struggled against him, crying and smacking at his hands, as he
prevented her from running any further.  The wagon drew closer and Braxton, in
all his glory, came into focus.  It was an amazing and awesome sight.

Without
armor, he rode the cream-colored charger with ease, clad in simple breeches,
tunic and boots, the same clothing they had last saw him in.  He could hear
Brooke crying loudly from several dozen yards away and even as Geoff and Norman
milled around him, he spurred his charger forward at the sight and sounds of
Brooke’s fit.  He was on her in an instant, noticing her advanced pregnancy. 
His eyes widened.

“Brooke?”
he drew the charger to a halt, vaulting off the animal as he moved quickly to
his daughter. “Sweetheart, what is the matter?”

Brooke
pulled free of Dallas and threw herself against Braxton.  Her arms went around
his neck.

“Braxton,”
she wept dramatically. “I thought you were dead!”

He
hugged her, trying not to quash her big belly. “Nay, sweetheart,” he kissed her
on the side of her head. “I am not dead. I am very much alive. And you are
pregnant.”

He
said it with such surprise that her sobs turned into weepy giggles as she
pulled back to look at him; he looked healthy and whole, just as she remembered
him. Like a vision from a dream, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

“I
am,” she said, seeing his amazement. But it didn’t deter her terror and grief
and the tears returned with a vengeance. “Where is my mother?”

Braxton
realized what had her so upset; he took her by the arm, passing a glance at
Dallas and smiling at his son-in-law.

“I
can see you are taking great care of her, Dallas,” he grinned. “And you are
looking well yourself.”

Dallas
smiled broadly. “As are you, for a dead man,” he said, moving up behind Brooke
and putting an affectionate hand on Braxton’s shoulder. “You have no idea how
glad we are to see you.”

Braxton
wriggled his eyebrows as he began to lead Brooke and Dallas toward the
approaching wagon. “As I am very glad to see you,” he said. “There is much to
tell.”

Before
Dallas could respond, Brooke looked up at him with her big, watery eyes. “What
happened after we left Elswick?” she wanted to know. “Dallas sent a missive
every week asking for information on you and Mama. We never received an answer.
We did not know what happened to you.”

Braxton
held her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know,” he said. “There was much going on
at Elswick. I was much occupied taking care of your mother.”

Brooke
started to well up again as they approached the wagon.  “Where is my mother?”
she wept, pleading. “What happened to her? Why was she so sick?”

“Because
your brother was making himself known.”

The
soft, female voice came from the wagon as it came to a stop.  Startled,
Brooke’s tears vanished as she gazed into the wagon bed and immediately spied
her mother.  But Gray wasn’t alone; she was propped up against the side of the
wagon, holding a downy-haired infant in her arms.  Gray smiled at her daughter
as Brooke nearly came apart.

“Mama!”
she gasped. “Wha… what….?”

Gray
laughed softly.  “Slow down, sweetheart,” she looked at Braxton. “Help her into
the wagon so she can see her new brother.”

Both
Braxton and Dallas lifted Brooke up into the wagon bed and it was Gray’s first
glimpse of her daughter’s advanced state of pregnancy. She reached out as
Brooke scooted over to her, putting her hand on Brooke’s belly and biting off
tears of her own. She felt the warm firmness of her daughter’s belly with the
greatest of reverence, startled in her own right at the sight of her daughter.