Medieval Master Warlords (4 page)

Next to Jax, Amadeo snapped his fingers at one of the knights and the man moved forward and grabbed her by the arm.  He was the broad one, rather short but with meaty hands that were biting. The squeezed her tender flesh as he yanked her towards the solar door.  Kellington winced but she did not cry out.

“Hold,” Jax boomed.

The knight, Michael de Comlach, came to a halt. He faced his lord as the man walked upon him, towering above him by well over a head.  But Jax’s focus wasn’t on the knight; it was on the lady.

Without a word, he took her from his knight, with more power than brutality, and escorted her forcibly from the room.   When the small solar was devoid of his overwhelming presence, Michael looked to Amadeo with confusion.

“Was I not supposed to remove her?” his Scots accent was thick. “Where is he taking her?”

Amadeo shook his head, his pale blue eyes distant at the empty doorway. “Perhaps he is taking her back to the vault.”

“I saw her in the ward,” the big and hairy knight, Caelen Penn, moved for the wine pitcher that his lord had nearly emptied. “She’ll not survive another bout out there. ‘Tis no place for womenfolk.”

Amadeo’s gaze lingered on the empty doorway a moment longer before moving to Caelen and pulling the wine jug away from him.  When Caelen snarled at him, he drained the jug and smashed the earthenware pitcher over his head.

Caelen staggered away but none of the other knights lifted an eyebrow. They were hunting for wine of their own; Michael caught a thin male servant hovering in the hall outside the sent the man to the kitchens for more drink and food.  Henley, the only knight so far who had yet to speak or smash wine jugs, lingered by the lancet window with a singed oilcloth; it had caught fire sometime during the siege and now hung in tatters.

“So where do we go from here?” he turned to Amadeo as the man walked up beside him. Together, they studied the ward outside.

“To the southwest,” Amadeo replied, wondering just how much he should tell the man.  There wasn’t much trust between Jax and Amadeo and the rest of the men; they’d seen too many turn to hold implicit trust.  “White Crag Castle, I’m told.  It’s about a day and half ride. And he’s called his generals from the Marches for a conference.  They should be arriving in a few days.”

“Conference?” Henley repeated. “What for? Those men already have garrisons to rule and prizes to be had. Why is he calling them to the Scots border?”

Amadeo could hear the jealousy in his voice. “Because this border may prove to be more difficult,” he replied. “The Welsh are bad but the Scots are worse. He needs their council. More than that, they’re bringing fifty retainers each to reinforce our ranks. That’s three hundred more men.”

Henley sulked. “We were all promised castles to rule once we were finished securing this border.  We all have our reward coming.”

Amadeo lifted a blond eyebrow. “And you shall have it. Do not be threatened by the March generals. I’m sure they have no aspirations for Scots garrisons.”

Henley nodded slowly, as if he did not believe him, turning to watch the giant ravens as they circled over the bailey; some of them had already descended on the bodies, plucking at the flesh.  It was a gruesome sight but these men were too hardened to notice.

Henley turned away from the window as the skinny servant entered with a platter of food.  Amadeo and the others, too, swarmed on the tray, shoving the servant out of the way.  The man was lucky to escape with his life.  All thoughts of the next conquest, the bodies in the bailey, and the lady of Pelinom vanished from their thoughts as the downed the wine and shoveled in the bread.  All that mattered to them was that they would receive their share of the booty.

              Such was the mind of a mercenary.

CHAPTER FOUR

Pelinom had an enormous keep that was four stories tall, five if one counted the tower rooms on the each corner turret of the roof.  The first, or bottom floor, was the basement with stores, the kitchen and the well.  One could access the second floor by a small stairwell cut built into the thickness of the wall. The second floor, reached by a retractable wood and iron staircase, held a small entry, an equally small solar, and an enormous hall with a gallery above. The third floor was cut in half by the great hall’s gallery and held two small rooms with a tiny room between them meant for servants to sleep in.  The fourth floor held two more large rooms and another servant’s room.  This was the floor where Kellington stayed.

Jax took her to her enormous bower with its views of the north, south and east.   It should have been her father’s chamber but he had graciously given it to his daughter while he had taken up a smaller chamber on the third floor. 

The first thing Kellington noticed when she entered the chamber was how cold it seemed. Normally there was a fire burning in the hearth. But the hearth was dark and cold, bringing to mind that Kellington hadn’t seen any female servants about.  In fact, she hadn’t seen any women at all.  She summoned her courage to ask about them.

“The servants,” she turned to Jax, his enormous bulk standing in the doorway. “Where are all of them?”

He regarded her a moment. “There are no women in my castles.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “You killed them?” a hand suddenly flew to her mouth. “Are… are they on poles like the men out there? My God, am I… will I see them if I look out my windows?”

He could see the horror in her eyes. It did a strange thing to him; it made him tell her the truth.

“They are not on poles,” he said in his deep baritone. “They are in the chapel. I’ve not yet decided what to do with them.”

He was startled when she suddenly rushed at him, dropping to her knees at his feet. “Please, my lord,” it was the one of the only times she had actually addressed him with formal respect. “Please do not harm them. They are my servants; some are my friends. I have grown up with these women. Please do not harm them in any way. I swear I will do anything you ask if you will only show mercy.
Please
.”

He stared at her, remembering the last time he had seen her like this, begging for her father’s life.  He realized that he didn’t like to see her on her knees, submissive and begging. No, he didn’t like it at all.  He reached down and pulled her to her feet.

“Get up,” he commanded softly. Then he walked away from her, inspecting the room as he went. “Is there no wine in this chamber?”

The question was so off of the subject that it took Kellington a moment to realize what he had asked.  Confused, she turned around to the small table near the wall.  It held a pitcher with what she assumed, after taking a sniff, was mead that was several days old.  She took a cup and the pitcher and went to him.

Jax disregarded the cup completely and drank straight from the pitcher. He downed it in two large gulps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was finished.  He regarded her as he tossed decanter to the floor.

“Do you know nothing of war, lady?” he asked quietly.

Kellington stood there a moment before shrugging dumbly. “As I told you, we do not see much war at Pelinom.  The Scots leave us alone for the most part.  I have never been a part of a siege.”

“Then Pelinom is a rarity,” he replied, his dual-colored eyes still fixed on her. “War goes on all around it, but Pelinom stays safe in its own little world.”

“That is true.”

Something in his tone hardened. “But it is true no more. Now that I have Pelinom, things will change. This place will change. It is now a military garrison.”

She shook her head, deeply puzzled. “But why? Why must it be so?”

“Because it is mine.”

She still did not completely understand, biting her lip as she thought on her words. “But the women in the chapel, my lord. Why must you kill them? Would it not be better to release them to the keep and allow them to resume their normal duties? They are not a threat.”

“Any conquered people are a threat.”

“Then you consider me a threat as well?”

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “You most of all.”

“But why? I will not lift a weapon. I could not kill you.”

He pondered his reply; in fact, he could hardly believe he was even speaking to her of such things. She was the enemy, someone he should hardly be giving his time and attention to.  But he was doing so nonetheless.  After a moment, he averted his gaze and moved towards the hearth where a large sling-back chair sat, cold and unused.  He planted his massive body in it, listening to the wood groan.

“What do you know about me, Lady Kellington?” he asked.

She blinked at the question. “I… I know that you are Ajax de Velt and that you are now commander of Pelinom Castle.”

He shook his head slowly. “Nay,” he said quietly. “What do you know about me?”

She realized what he meant; what had she heard? What had she been told? Kellington lowered her gaze and went to her bed, sitting primly on the edge.  Strange how the man didn’t intimidate her as much now as he had only hours ago; she wasn’t exactly comfortable with him, but she wasn’t exactly terrified, either. She folded her cold hands in her lap.

“I know that you are called The Dark Lord,” she said softly. “I have heard tale that you are a greatly feared man.”

He snorted, resting his chin in his hand. His two-colored eyes were riveted to her. “Feared indeed,” he rumbled. “Have you heard that Baron de Vesci of Northumberland fears me so much that he provided me with my own castle and lands just so I would stay away from his holdings? And did you also hear that Henry is so wary of me that he pays me a regular stipend every year in the amount of five hundred gold crowns just so I will not pillage and loot his properties?”

Kellington was astonished. “The king pays you?”

Jax nodded disinterestedly, his gaze wandering to the hearth and for some unknown reason, rising to light it.  Perhaps it was because he had seen the lady shiver.  It didn’t even occur to him that that was the reason until several seconds later.

“I was not born to title or money,” he said as he set out the kindling. “I must take what I want. And I want a good deal.”

She watched him expertly lay out the kindling and the peat. “But…,” she fumbled for her words. “But you already have a castle and lands.  And the king pays you a salary to leave him alone.”

Jax nodded as he struck the flint and blew on the sparks. “Actually, I have several castles,” he said casually, watching the fire flare. “I have six along the Welsh Marches. I control everything between Welshpool and Brecon.  Even the Marcher lords pay tribute to me so that I will not burn down their castles and steal their lands. And the Welsh are too weak and unorganized to oppose me, so their lands have become mine.”

She listened to him speak so nonchalantly about such serious matters, her astonishment turning to outrage.   The man was a monster and either didn’t care or didn’t realize it. She suspected it was the former.

“Why do you tell me these things?” she asked, her tone bordering on cold.

He looked at her then, sweeping his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes. “I tell you so that you will understand that I am no one to be trifled with,” he stood up, focused on her lovely face. “You are horribly ignorant. I am educating you.”

“I never believed you were someone to be trifled with,” she shot back softly. “But your boasts do not impress me.”

He just stared at her and Kellington was suddenly afraid she had been too bold again. She stared back, waiting for him to explode, but he continued to gaze steadily at her. Then something strange happened; the corner of his mouth twitched. Then the other corner twitched. Soon, he had broken out in to a full-blown smile and deep dimples carved ruts down each cheek.  His teeth, from what she could see, were straight and relatively white.  Had the man not been so dark and horrifying, it would have been a nice smile.

“Nay, I did not expect that they would,” he replied, rubbing at his face as if the smiling had hurt somehow. “But I would tell you just the same. You are a naïve girl and you will understand this world you find yourself a part of.  This is my world now.  You must adjust so there are no mistakes in the future.”

“Mistakes?” she repeated, not liking the sound of that. “What kind of mistakes do you mean?”

His smile vanished. “I told you earlier. You are confined to this keep. You will not stray from its walls without an escort.  I have warned you of my wrath should you disobey.  I will not warn you again.”

She was wise enough not to argue with him.  He was beginning to intimidate her again but she fought it.  She averted her gaze, looking to her hands.

“I will not stray from these walls, my lord,” she cast him a hooded glance, “if you will bring the women in the chapel back into the keep. I swear to you that we will all stay here and resume our duties as normal, which are necessary to the function of Pelinom.  You cannot do without us.”

He put his hands on his slender hips, his expression bordering on a glare.  “Do you actually think to bargain with me?”

“May I?”

His eyebrows rose. “God’s Blood, you’re a saucy bit of baggage. I’ve killed men for less than what you display.”

Somehow, she didn’t fear his statement.  For as annoyed as he appeared, there was a lack of force behind it.

“Are you going to kill me, then?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But not today.” He eyed her a moment, thinking on her offer. It made some sense. “Very well, Lady Kellington.  If you can guarantee that your women will not cause problems and will not stray from this keep, then I will release them to your custody.  But if one of them creates even the slightest disturbance or the smallest infraction, my wrath will fall upon you.  Do you comprehend?”

She rose from the bed with a smile on her lips.  Jax watched her approach, realizing he had never seen her smile.  It was the most glorious thing he had ever witnessed; her teeth were straight, white, and she had a big dimple in her left cheek. He could have gazed at that smile for a thousand years and never grown tired of it.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said as she stood before him. “Thank you for your display of mercy.”

Jax hadn’t thought of it that way. He didn’t like the sounds of it and that unbalanced him.  The lady, in fact, unbalanced him.  Everything about her was beginning to shake him.  Without another word, he moved around her and headed for the door.

“My lord?” she called after him.

He hesitated, hand on the latch. “You must want something more.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the only time you address me formally is when you want something. I’ve never heard you say it any other time.”

She pursed her lips regretfully. “I am sorry. Does that displease you?”

He thought on it. “Nay,” he finally shook his head. “I suppose not. What else do you want?”

She seemed to lose her confident manner.  In fact, she began wringing her hands and he dropped his hand from the door latch.

“What do you want?” he asked again.

She cleared her throat softly. “If… if I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”

“It depends on the question.”

“Please, my lord?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You must want to know badly if you are addressing me formally again. Well, what is it?”

“My father,” she almost whispered.  “Where is he?”

“I sent him back to Foulburn Castle.”

“Where is that?”

“My seat, to the west of Berwick,” he told her.  “Is there anything else?”

At least she knew where her father was now.  Somehow, it was better and worse at the same time.

“Aye,” she said. “There is one more thing.”

“What is that?”

She was moving towards him again, wringing her hands.  She was such a tiny little thing, so sweet and lush and womanly.  Jax didn’t know why he felt like moving away from her, but he did.  On the other hand, he felt rather warm and lustful as she drew close. It was an odd combination.

“The women,” she said in a tight voice; she realized she was close to tears as she spoke. “Some of them have husbands that you have… they are outside on poles and… well, could we bury them, please? If it was my husband in the bailey, I… I could not bear it. May we bury them?”

Jax gazed down at her, feeling strangely torn by her soft plea. It was not his habit to remove the bodies of the enemies until they had rotted to shriveled corpses. Until then, they were an example to all who would contemplate opposing the will of Ajax de Velt.  They served a purpose.  He was the conqueror; they were the conquered.  He could not remove that which represented his victory.

“Nay,” he said quietly, lifting the latch and opening the door.

Kellington didn’t say any more as he stepped through the panel and shut it softly behind him.  In fact, she stood there a long while, staring at the door, struggling to come to grips with the past few days.  It had all seemed like a horrible nightmare until a few moments ago. Now it was a real nightmare.  She was going to have to adjust if she was going to survive.