Spectre of the Sword (8 page)

“I see. Is he a knight
also?”

“He serves my grandfather.”

“And who is your
grandfather?”

“Berwyn de Llion,” he
replied. “He is the Steward of Bronllys Castle, one of de Lohr’s holdings. My
brother is his Captain.”

She thought on that a
moment. “And your brother’s name?”

“Rod.”

“Is that where you are
taking me?” she asked softly. “Are we going to Bronllys?”

Rhys finished his bread
before answering. “I do not know yet. De Lohr is to plan our next move.”

Elizabeau didn’t say
anything. Finished with her cheese, she simply sat and gazed into the fire. 
Even though she’d had a few hours of sleep and a meal, she wasn’t feeling very
well and her throat was beginning to hurt.  She suspected she had caught a
chill as a result of being soaked to the skin for hours on end, but she hoped
it would pass. At the moment, she was warm and well fed, so hopefully it would
heal whatever illness that was attempting to take root.  She had enough to
worry about without the threat of contracting a deadly illness.

Robinson burst back into
the inn, bellowing the barkeep to pack some food for his journey. On his heels
came Christopher de Lohr and a host of powerful knights, flooding into the
tavern with their mail and weapons. Startled, Robinson moved out of their way
and allowed them to pass.  When more knights followed on the heels of the first
group, the merchant vanished back into the kitchens as a safety precaution.
Many knights, in close proximity, were never a good thing.

De Lohr’s hawk-sharp
eyes found Rhys immediately. “Rhys,” he greeted, crossing the floor towards
him. “Everything is well, I take it?”

Rhys nodded. “Indeed, my
lord,” he greeted David as the man walked past him, heading for the fire, but
continued to speak with Christopher. “We’ve seen no hardships since our arrival
here. The lady is rested and fed.”

De Lohr’s sky blue eyes
moved over Elizabeau, inspecting her from head to toe. He was surprised to see
her looking rested and quite beautiful. “Where did you find the clothing?” he
asked Rhys.

“We were fortunate
enough to happen across a traveling merchant,” Rhys lowered his voice. “The man
believes me to be an obscenely wealthy baron and has asked the lady and me to
join him in his travel to the Marches. It might be the perfect disguise for our
movements.”

“That is something we
must discuss.”

Christopher pulled off a
gauntlet and reached up to remove his helm. He had very blond hair, longer,
which he ran his fingers through to slick back against his skull. Coupled with
his neatly trimmed blond beard, it rather gave him the appearance of a lion. He
had, in fact, been called the Lion’s Claw when he served as Richard the Lion
Heart’s Champion.  His blond-maned appearance gave credence to that moniker.

Rhys resumed his seat as
Christopher and David sat opposite. Elizabeau watched curiously as the brothers
de Lohr settled themselves, removing helms and gauntlets but keeping their
weapons close at hand. She could see the family resemblance, though Christopher
was quite a bit larger than his younger brother. David, however, had the
biggest hands Elizabeau had ever seen on a man his size.  As she studied the
pair, the earl spoke quietly.

“De Burgh has decided
that the lady will be much safer someplace incognito,” he said in a low voice.
“Our first instinct was to take her to one of de Burgh’s holdings, such as
White or Grosmont Castle.  But those who know we have her will look to the
castles first.”

“The castles will
provide protection, my lord,” Rhys said quietly.  “John can lay siege to either
for as long as he wishes and she will remain protected.”

“True,” de Lohr
conceded. “But if John lays siege for any length of time, we will never be able
to safety remove her to rendezvous with the Prince Conrad.”

“Conrad?”

De Lohr nodded. “Conrad
Ebhardt von Brunswick, Prince of Alsace and the next king of England,” he said
as if he wasn’t particularly excited about it, simply resigned. “His father is
Fredrick II, King of Naples & Sicily, Duke of Swabia, and brother to Otto
IV of Brunswick, the Holy Roman Emperor.”

So now the prince had a
name.  Rhys somehow felt as if the seriousness of his mission had just
multiplied tenfold.  So much was depending on his ability to keep the lady
alive, which he’d done admirably so far.  But it was as if now, with the
revelation of a name, he felt the weight of the world riding on his
considerable shoulders.  The situation now had a name, a history, a future. 
Much was depending on his talents as a knight.

He sighed heavily; he
couldn’t help it. “So you think it wise to keep the lady hidden from the prince
rather than trust her to the protection of a castle?”

De Lohr’s sky-blue eyes
glittered with cold calculation. “I believe that we must keep her someplace
that John will never look. You will therefore take her to you mother’s home in
Wales and keep her there for three weeks time.”

Rhys did something out
of character at that moment; he lifted his dark eyebrows in genuine surprise.
“But… my lord, my mother lives at a fortified manor. In truth, it is little
more than a farm. If the king discovers the lady and lays siege to the house,
there is very little by way of defense. They will easily breach the place.”

“Understood,” de Lohr
said patiently. “But, as I explained, we believe at this point that it will be
a safer place for her.  John’s spies are spreading out all over England.  To
find her in a small town in Wales is more than likely the last place they will
look.”

Elizabeau, silent
through the exchange, spoke up. “His grandfather is Steward of Bronllys Castle.
Perhaps I should go there. At least there will be walls for protection. I
cannot say that I am entirely comfortable leaving my protection to chickens and
farm implements.”

Christopher looked at
her. “I understand your concern, but you must believe me when I say that
keeping you someplace they will never look is our best hope. Even now, we have
sent out several decoys to the north, hoping John’s assassins will pursue. I
believe that the men at Courtenay’s manor had no knowledge of your tracks once
you left the area.  Moreover, whatever evidence there was has washed away.” He
looked back to Rhys. “After three weeks time, you will take the lady to Ogmore
Castle where she will rendezvous with the prince.  They will be married there
and more than likely sent back to the prince’s homeland for safety’s sake.  We
must be fully prepared to seize the throne before the lady and her husband can
return to assume their destiny.”

So that was the
brilliant plan; marriage, escaping the country, and then returning on the heels
of a civil war. Apprehensive, Elizabeau sat back in her chair and lowered her
gaze; last night, she had been belligerent and loud.  But this morning, her
attitude had changed a great deal.  These men were trying very hard to keep her
alive until she could marry her prince.  She was coming to respect what they
were attempting to accomplish and arguing with them had only made her feel
ungrateful and foolish.  So in a reversal of behavior, she decided to keep her
mouth shut. Perhaps they did know more than she did when it came to outsmarting
her Uncle John.

Christopher watched her
lovely face for a moment, surprised she had not argued with him. In fact, she
had given in easily.  His brother ordered a meal while Christopher relaxed in
his chair, feeling his fatigue for the first time in days.  He continued to eye
the lady now and again, waiting for her to contest his judgment. But still, she
sat silent.  He scratched his head and turned to his brother.

“I think I will return
home for a few days,” he said to him. “I haven’t seen Dustin in weeks and
she’ll have my head if I don’t show my face for a short while.”

“Do you live close by,
my lord?”

The polite question came
from Elizabeau.  She was focused on the earl and he answered.  “My keep is
outside of Hereford,” he replied. “A few days ride from here.”

“Your wife’s name is
Dustin?”

“It is.”

“Do you have any children,
my lord?”

“Two daughters. And my
wife is expecting again.”

Elizabeau turned to
David, waiting impatiently for his food. “And you, my lord? Are you married
with children, also?” she asked.

David had slightly less
tolerance for conversation than his older brother.  He rubbed his eyes wearily.
“My wife is Emilie and I have a daughter also.”

Elizabeau’s gaze moved
between the two men, her deep green eyes calculating. “Then tell me this, my
lords; if I was your wife, or one of your daughters, would you so easily send
me to a farm with no walls or an army for protection while trying to shield me
from a king who employs legions of assassins? Is that a truly wise move?”

The de Lohr brothers
stared at her for a moment before Christopher finally answered. “I would trust
the life of my wife and daughters to Rhys without hesitation,” he replied
steadily. “And yes, I do believe sending you to a farm, where your uncle will
never think to look, is a wise decision. I am not in the habit of making
foolish ones.”

Elizabeau’s resolve to
behave was quickly fading. She sighed sharply, making her disagreement obvious,
before returning her attention to the fire.  She wasn’t sure what more she
could say that wouldn’t turn into a fight. What concerned her most was that
Rhys apparently agreed with her; no walls, no protection, only a fortified
manor.  John’s men could get to her if she was discovered.

David’s meal came and he
plowed into it, aided by his brother. While the earl and Rhys kept a quiet
conversation, Elizabeau stared into the hypnotic fire and pondered her dark
thoughts.
Conrad is his name
, she thought. The name of the man she would
spend the rest of her life with. She wondered what sort of man he was; most
princes she had heard of, or kings for that matter, had some manner of
perversity or dishonor associated with them.  It made her stomach twist with
apprehension, and the apprehension was her last coherent thought before the
world around her exploded.

She heard a strange
noise off to her left followed by an even stranger wailing sound. Suddenly,
Rhys was throwing himself on top of her and she was in a heap beneath his
massive body.  She could hear Christopher snapping orders and saying something
to the effect that David had been hit by an arrow.  But she couldn’t see anything. 
Terror welled in her chest as Rhys abruptly pushed himself off of her, put both
armored arms around her in a bear hug, and pulled her with him behind an
upended table.

More arrows were flying
over her head, crashing into the wall above the hearth.  Instinctively, she
yelped and covered her head, listening to the terrifying sounds of death that
were aimed at her.  Off to her left, she could see David sitting up against
another upended table with an arrow jutting from his shoulder.  But he was lucid,
and angry, and his sword was in his left hand preparing for the battle to come.

More arrows flew
overhead, clattering to the floor when the met with the stone wall. Elizabeau
kept herself in a huddle, arms over her head, while Rhys kept his big arms
around her.  He couldn’t do much more than protect her from the projectiles,
watch David and take his orders from the man.  He couldn’t see the earl at all.

The arrows stopped
flying and there were sounds of a sword fight. David leapt up, as did Rhys,
peering over the top of the overturned tables to see Christopher and two of his
knights engaged against several men. Rhys’ warrior instinct kicked in; he
vaulted over the top of the table, speaking to David as he flew.

“Protect the lady,” his
tone was quiet, with force. “I will aid the earl.”

David wouldn’t have been
much help to his brother with an arrow sticking out of him and he knew it. 
Rhys was an enormous man with enormous fighting ability, so David went over to
the lady as du Bois jumped into the mêlée.  By this time, Elizabeau dared to
peer above the edge of the table to watch the fighting. As David crouched next
to her, one hand holding his sword and the other stabilizing the spine of the
arrow as it jutted from his flesh, they watched the battle unfold.

Rhys didn’t wait to be
invited into the skirmish. He went straight for the man battling the earl and
in two clean strokes, gutted the man.  It was a brutal move designed to kill,
and Elizabeau’s eyes opened wide at the sight.  With one man down, Rhys turned for
the other five that were engaging the earl’s men and plowed into them with
unearthly ferocity. It wasn’t that he was a better fighter than the earl and
his men; it was simply that he was fearless and strong as an ox. While the
enemy was distracted with the earl and his knights, Rhys moved through them
like God smiting sinners.  They barely saw him coming before their lives were
at an end. It was an amazing sight to behold.

Two of the remaining
enemy men bolted outside when they saw that they were alone in their battle
against the earl’s men.  Rhys, the earl and another of the earl’s knights
followed them. One knight remained behind in case there were more foes lurking
in the inn. With the room suddenly quiet but for the groaning of the dying,
David and Elizabeau rose from their protected position.