Queen of Lost Stars (Dragonblade Series/House of St. Hever) (16 page)

Especially the man he intended to replace.

“Indeed we do,” Nicholas said. “In fact, there is something I must tell you. I stopped in Northwich for the night and came across several de Lara men. They told me that there is a Welsh buildup near Hawarden Castle, something of massive proportions.”

Kaspian forgot all about his jealousy and listened seriously to Nicholas’ news. “I am not entirely surprised to hear that,” he said honestly. “Hawarden has always been at the center of any Welsh storm. How long ago did you hear this information?”

“Last night, in fact,” Nicholas said. “The de Lara men were heading north to Carlisle to relay the information. They are seeking reinforcements for the trilateral castles because no one on the Marches has men to spare.”

It sounded serious, indeed. “What of de Lohr?” Kaspian asked. “He has thousands of men.”

Nicholas shook his head. “They are holding the entire southern portion of the Marches at this point,” he said. “At least, that’s what the de Lara men told me because I asked the same question. They are covering Hereford, for God’s sake, and every castle in the de Lohr line is armed to the teeth – Shadowmoor, Dorstone, Cross Ash, and Clearwell. So I am positive that we cannot expect any reinforcement from the de Lohr stables. And de Lara has Trelystan, Hyssington, and Caradoc to worry about. Nay, my friend, the Marcher lords are dug in where they are, waiting to see what Dafydd ap Gruffydd is going to do.”

Kaspian drew in a deep, thoughtful breath as he processed the information. He hadn’t heard any of this and he was rather surprised. Usually, the flow of information in the north was good because all of the garrisons kept each other informed, but this news had come up from the south and it was rather shocking. Hawarden Castle was not far from Lavister and he felt somewhat blindsided by the information, as he should have been one of the first people to know of it. But he’d not heard a thing from any of his spies and he was sure that if Thomas had, the man would have told him. He leaned forward on the table, his big arms folded on the tabletop.

“Beeston is still in English hands, as is Lavister,” he said. “So is Holt Castle, to the south of us. I will be honest when I say that I have heard nothing of this news and Hawarden is a two day’s ride from Lavister. If what you say is true, we must seek our reinforcements from places other than the Marches. No one has resources to share. I would assume that Edward is aware of this situation?”

Nicholas nodded. “He is, indeed,” he replied. “I sent him word of the victory at Beeston right after it happened and I am sure he has received word from other Marcher lords as well as to the situation with Hawarden. He has his eye on the Marches right now, have no doubt.”

Kaspian was pensive. “I have family north at Pendragon Castle,” he said. “I also have friends and allies at Aysgarth Castle and Exelby Castle in Yorkshire. I could send word to them and request reinforcements.”

Nicholas was in agreement. “That would be wise,” he said. “Lavister guards the road between Chester and Wrexham, which makes it strategic. If Dafydd manages to capture it, he can launch attacks on those towns and beyond. It could be catastrophic for the Welsh to gain control of Lavister.”

Kaspian’s gaze lingered on him a moment. “You sound concerned.”

Nicholas eyed the man, a flash of something dark and threatening crossing his features, before breaking into a grin. It was all an act, however; Nicholas didn’t like Kaspian’s comment, as if he were afraid of the Welsh. No man would call him a coward. The grin, therefore, was to cover up the flash of murderous outrage in his heart. He didn’t like the challenge to his manhood.

“I am not the least bit concerned, I assure you,” he said. “I welcome any action the Welsh can bring. The skirmish at Beeston was the first one I’d seen in a very long time. I am more at home in a battle than most.”

Kaspian cocked an eyebrow. “Let us hope it does not come to that,” he said. “I would be perfectly happy if the Welsh would pass us by.”

Nicholas regarded him. “Now
you
sound concerned.”

Kaspian could have sworn there was a taunt in de Dalyn’s tone. He could see the edginess in Nicholas’ eyes no matter how hard the man tried to hide it. “To be concerned is to be prudent,” he said steadily. “To be prudent is not to be caught off guard.”

“Agreed.”

“Good. Then let us share the evening meal and converse with the rest of Lavister’s knights at the conclusion of the meal to discuss this situation. They will want to hear what de Lara’s men told you as well.”

Nicholas simply nodded his head, letting the conversation naturally shift away from the threat on the Marches and on to other things, but the entire time, he was thinking on how gratifying it would be when he was finally in command of Lavister. It was clear that St. Hèver was struggling with his recovery from the terrible injury and the man wasn’t nearly as strong as he should be to command such an outpost. Aye, Nicholas had plans for Lavister that didn’t involve Kaspian St. Hèver.

Another strategic missive to Edward might solve his problem, eventually.

If not, there were other ways of ridding himself of an obstacle.

*

The evening meal
was held in Lavister’s great hall, with its cold stone walls and sharply pitched roof. Since there were so many men at Lavister, and all of them needed to be fed on a regular basis, the great hall saw a good deal of use. It smelled like men and dogs, urine and smoke, and there were always men in the structure either eating or sleeping or playing games – sometimes all three. On this evening well after sunset, the hall was full of men as they crowded around the three big feasting tables, shoving each other aside for a spot to eat.

The hall could seat about five hundred men, and that was crammed to the rafters, so those who weren’t fortunate enough to claim a seat in the hall were relegated to eating outside around the half-dozen fires that littered the bailey on any given night. Ioin, the old cook, was a master at stretching food stores to make sure the army had enough to eat and on this night, he’d boiled pork with beans and carrots, creating a thick and hearty stew to dip loaves of crusty brown bread into. The pears that Madelayne had spent her time cutting had been boiled up, too, with honey and spices to create a delicious compote that was reserved only for the knights and their guests.

It was a surprisingly mild evening with a clear, night sky overhead and a sickle-shaped moon high in the heavens. Madelayne had been busy all afternoon, helping the cook, making sure the servants fed the men in an orderly fashion, as was usually the case in the evenings. Such a large crowd of men needed to be fed in an organized way and Madelayne was very good at doing that, so she supervised the hall while Mavia made sure there was a separate section for the knights to eat their meal. They also had additional food that the rank and file of men didn’t have, the compote being an example. Only the knights and other guests would have that. As soon as the knights entered the hall, however, the ladies went to the table to sit with them, leaving the servants to tend the soldiers.

Kaspian was moving slowly this night. After his meeting with Nicholas, he’d gone to lay in his bed to rest and ended up falling asleep. Dolwyd had been forced to shake him awake to attend the meal and Kaspian had struggled to get moving. He wasn’t feeling well at all but he didn’t want to show any weakness in front of Nicholas.

Kaspian had to admit that he was starting to regret Nicholas’ arrival even though he’d told the other men that they were lucky to have de Dalyn. Perhaps they were; perhaps they weren’t. All Kaspian knew was that there was something about Nicholas he didn’t trust. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but the man bore watching and, like any good predator, Kaspian was sure the man would pounce on him if he knew how weak he was.

Prey.

Kaspian didn’t want to fall prey to the man.

So he tried very hard not to appear weak or weary as he entered the hall with Thomas. Ewan and Reece were already there, as was Nicholas, who was sitting at the table in the company of Mavia. In fact, Mavia was sitting next to Nicholas, laughing at a story the man was evidently telling. Dressed in a lovely yellow brocade, she seemed most attentive to their newest knight. Kaspian scrutinized the man as he drew near the table where they were congregating.

But that scrutiny was momentary. The person he really wanted to see was Madelayne, and he did, over near the servant’s entrance that led out to the kitchens behind the hall. She had a pitcher in her hand and was heading for the table with the knights, kicking the dogs out of the way and reaching the table about the time Kaspian arrived. Their eyes met and magic, like stardust, filled the air between them.

“Lady l’Ebreux, please sit,” Kaspian told her, taking the pitcher from her hands and setting it down on the table. “Knowing you, you have been slaving away all afternoon. I do not know if I have ever seen you not busy.”

Dressed in a linen surcoat with a soft, white shift beneath it, Madelayne looked quite radiant from her red-tinted cheeks. She had been running around most of the evening and was a wee bit weary as a result, but she smiled at Kaspian as he indicated the seat next to him. She finally sat, across from Nicholas, Mavia, and Ewan, as a male servant appeared to deliver their trenchers.

“There is much work to do,” she said to Kaspian as Reece picked up the pitcher she had brought and began pouring sloppy cups of wine all around. “In fact, that is something I would like to speak with you about. There is too much work for Mavia and me to do and I would like to solicit more help from the neighboring villages, Rossett or even Grosford. We really do need the help, Kaspian. Would you allow taking on a few more women servants? Cairn once said that you did not like women at a military installation, but would you at least consider it?”

“Of course he will,” Nicholas said before Kaspian could answer. He was focused intently on Madelayne. “In fact, Lady l’Ebreux, you should not be working at all. You are a fine and delicate lady and it is unseemly for you to be working so hard. You should be kept in your chamber with your fine sewing or painting, not working the kitchens like a common servant. St. Hèver should be ashamed that he permits you to do such lowly things.”

It was a dig at Kaspian, who didn’t react to the insult. Instead, he pretended as if Nicholas hadn’t said anything at all. Ignoring him was better in this case because if he fired a barb at the man, the evening could turn ugly quite quickly. He found himself restrained in Madelayne’s presence, not wanting to upset her.

“Of course,” Kaspian said quietly to Madelayne. “We will discuss later what you have in mind and proceed accordingly. But I have known you for three years and this is the first time you have ever asked me for any assistance. I pray that you were not somehow reluctant to ask sooner.”

Madelayne wasn’t very happy with Nicholas, either, but Kaspian hadn’t responded to the man so she didn’t. It wasn’t her place, after all. Instead, she was focused on Kaspian.

“I do not mind hard work, truly,” she said. “But it has become a bit much as of late. Mayhap I am simply slowing down.”

“Or mayhap you should not be doing it at all, as de Dalyn said.”

She smiled weakly. “As I said, I do not mind, but it would be easier if there were more hands.”

He smiled in return. “Then it shall be done,” he said. Then, he turned to Nicholas, the smile gone from his face. “Do you have anything more to say about it?”

Nicholas, who was already on to his second cup of wine, lifted his big shoulders carelessly. “Me?” he asked. “Of course not. You are doing the right thing, St. Hèver. Good for you. All women need to be placed on their cushioned chairs and worshipped, not forced to work like slaves.”

Before Kaspian could reply to yet another insult, Madelayne pointed a finger at him. “Sir Nicholas, that is the second time you have accused Sir Kaspian of the negligence of women in front of his men,” she said sternly. “I do not think that was a polite thing for you to do. Sir Kaspian has never treated Lady Mavia or me poorly. In fact, he has always been considerate of us. We work because it must be done. You have only been here a matter of hours and do not yet know the ways of Lavister, so I suggest you take the time to observe before making any unsavory accusations.”

Reece and Ewan snorted into their cups as Nicholas appeared genuinely apologetic. “Pray forgive, madam,” he said sincerely. “I was only thinking of you and Lady Mavia, of course. Were you my wife, you would never know a day of work.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Then it is a good thing I am not your wife,” she said. “I should not like to be told I must sit in a chair and sew all day. ’Tis a ridiculous notion to expect a woman to sit and do nothing. We are not made of glass, Sir Knight. We will not break.”

Nicholas was amused by her fire; her speech was quite passionate. “My lady, I do believe you are close to a tantrum. Pray forgive me for provoking you so.”

“It is Sir Kaspian you should be begging forgiveness from.”

Nicholas’ gaze trailed to Kaspian and there was a flash of defiance there, quickly gone. “My apologies, St. Hèver.”