The Falls of Erith (37 page)

She
was buried the next day in the vault of her ancestors, finally, as she had
always asserted and demanded, among her own blue-blooded peerage.

The
peerage of the dead.

***

Black
Fell Castle, Northumberland

“My
son would not have kidnapped women and absconded with a fortress,” the man who
spoke the words used a deadly tone. “Who spreads these lies?”

A
knight bearing the red and blue shield of the Earls of Northumberland stood in
the great hall of Black Fell Castle, delivering a message from his liege, Yves
de Vesci. He tried not to appear nervous but, truth be told, everyone was
always a bit apprehensive upon entering Black Fell. The place was full of the
dark ambiance that is given to those whose life and vocation is geared towards
battle. 

Sir
Thomas de Nerra came from a long line of aggressive soldiers; powerful but not
brutal, brave but not reckless.  Still, the man was more of a warrior than
most, seasoned and bred along with the rest of the Lords of Gilderdale.  The
sons that stood with him were of the same mold; powerful, cunning, calculating
and cold. 

But
the messenger held his ground.  “My liege has received this information from
Thirlwall Castle, seat of Sir Edmund Gray.”

“And
how would he know this?”

“Because
his father’s sister, the Lady Constance Gray de Montfort, has returned to
Thirlwall with this information.  Sir Edmund is most concerned for his cousin
and her family.”

Thomas
de Nerra gazed at the man with calculating blue-green eyes. Most of his sons
resembled him to fault, the exception being his eldest, Robert. Robert had the
dark of his mother. Even now, Robert stood beside his father, his blue-green
eyes hard as he listened to the tale involving his youngest brother.  Before
his father could reply, he interjected his thoughts.

“There
must be a logical explanation for what Lady de Montfort has said,” he replied
firmly. “My brother is not the sort to go around confiscating castles and
abducting women.”

The
messenger’s eyes flicked to him. “Be that as it may, the earl is concerned
enough that he asks you to ride to Erith Castle and remove your son.   This he
demands on behalf of the Grays of Northumberland.”

“God’s
Beard,” the second eldest brother, a big man with graying blond hair named
Davis, cursed lowly. “Braxton is a grown man and, I might add, a powerful
knight in his own right. Do you think we can simply march to Erith and scold
him like a child? That is ridiculous.”

Robert
shook his head in agreement, glaring at the messenger as he turned away.   Not
to be left out, the third de Nerra son, Steven, made his presence known. He was
a massive, hairy beast of a man with shaggy gray hair and hands the size of
trenchers.  He was also the most volatile, which is why Davis grabbed the man
before he could throw the messenger into a head lock.

“Braxton
would not do what your lord fears,” he snarled. “He is a man of honor.”

“He
is a well-known mercenary,” the messenger unwisely countered. “He will do what
is necessary if there is profit involved. Lord de Vesci is simply concerned for
the safety of Lady Constance’s daughter and all of you, as vassals of de Vesci,
are obliged to obey his command.”

There
was truth in the statement that none of them could refute. Thomas sighed
heavily, thoughtfully, averting his gaze as he scratched his neck and generally
fidgeted about as his sons grumbled and postured.   He rose from the bench upon
which he was seated, stretching his muscled legs and thinking of the son he’d
not seen in years.  He hadn’t even heard of him in nearly as long until one of
his knights, Niclas de Aughton, returned from mission to Gloucester.  He had
run across Braxton and his army and told quite a different tale than the one
being carried by de Vesci’s knight.  Thomas sent a soldier for de Aughton
before returning his attention to the messenger.

“One
of my knights has recently seen Braxton,” he said. “I have sent for him and we
shall clear this up once and for all.”

The
messenger didn’t say any more; he was only the messenger, after all, and not
qualified to argue the point. So he stood politely while de Nerra’s sons
conferred between them, big men with big reputations.  They were growing older
now and their own sons were beginning to take on the family mantle; Robert had
two boys while Steven had one, young men that were even now outside with the
army. Thomas went back to the bench and lowered his body heavily, sitting near
the fire because his joints ached. 

The
messenger’s gaze moved from the whispering sons to the pensive father, brushing
over the features of the massive two-story hall that smelled like dogs and
men.  He’d never actually been to Black Fell Castle but he could see why it was
considered a foreboding stronghold; it reeked of war.  He could feel it, and
see it, everywhere.  It was a dark place of stone, smoke and power.

De
Aughton wasn’t long in coming. The big black knight with eyes of obsidian
entered the smoky great hall from the bailey outside, approaching Thomas with
pounding steps.   Before Thomas could speak, Steven leapt out to intercept him.

“This
fool has come to tell us that Braxton has taken Erith Castle hostage,” he
barked. “You have recently seen my brother. Is this true?”

Niclas
had to step aside or risk being run over by Steven in the man’s anger. His dark
brow furrowed as he looked from the enraged de Nerra brothers to the de Vesci
messenger several feet away.  Puzzled, he focused on the messenger.

“Who
told you this?” he demanded.

The
messenger was outnumbered but he held his ground.  Each successive man at Black
Fell seemed to be bigger and angrier than the last. “Lady Constance Gray de
Montfort,” he replied evenly. “She has come to my lord de Vesci for
assistance.  She claims that Braxton de Nerra has confiscated Erith and is holding
her daughter, the Lady Gray, hostage.”

Niclas
stared at the man a moment , pondering his words, before clearing his throat
softly. He turned to Thomas and the de Nerra brothers who were clearly looking
for an answer.  “Braxton de Nerra is married to the Lady Gray,” he explained.
“If she is a hostage, she is the most willing hostage I have ever seen.”

Thomas
bolted off the bench, his blue-green eyes wide. “What’s this you say?” he
barked. “Braxton has taken a wife?”

Niclas
nodded, a faint smile coming to his lips. “The most beautiful woman I have ever
seen. In fact, I…,” he caught himself before he could finish the story, which
would not go well in his favor. “Suffice it to say that he has married her and
when last I saw them, they were very happy.”

Robert
was grinning like a fool while Davis and Steven simply appeared stunned.  Only
Thomas seemed capable of speaking in light of this shocking news. “Why did you
not tell me my son had taken a wife before now?” he demanded.

“Because
it was not my place, my lord. That news should come from your son.”

Thomas
growled and made a face, but he understood. He waved his hands dramatically.
“But what about Erith Castle?” he persisted.

Niclas
shook his head. “I do not know anything about Erith Castle, my lord.”

“Nothing
at all? Braxton did not mention it to you?”

“Nay,
my lord. It was never discussed.”

Thomas’
gaze lingered on the big knight a moment longer before turning to his sons. 
They all gazed back at him with varied degrees of confusion and delight. Thomas
scratched his oily head again before flipping a dirty hand at the three men.

“Mount
the army,” he ordered. “We ride for Erith to clear up this mess before Braxton
gets himself into trouble.”

Steven
and Davis were on the move, racing from the great hall and calling to the
sergeants.  Robert, however, remained behind. He went to his father and clapped
the man on the shoulder.

“You
make excuses,” he teased quietly. “Your true motivation in riding to Erith is
to meet Braxton’s wife. You want to see how well he did for himself.”

Thomas
growled at him and stomped away, leaving Robert laughing silently.  But Niclas
was still standing there and Robert went to him, eyeing the man thoughtfully. 
He sobered.

“Tell
me the truth,” he lowered his voice. “What was Braxton doing when you last saw
him? Did he mention anything about Erith Castle?”

Niclas
shook his head. “I met your brother at a tournament in Milnthorpe,” he said.
“He competed briefly until one of his men was gravely injured. When last I saw
him, he and his wife were camped outside of Milnthorpe. That is all I know, my
lord.”

Robert’s
eyebrows lifted. “Compete, did he? How did he fare?”

“Only
one bout. He unseated his opponent and gained his horse.”

Robert
grinned. “That sounds like my brother,” he agreed. “And his wife; is she truly
lovely?”

“As
a new spring morning, my lord.”

“But
there was no hint that she might have been married to him against her will?”

“Absolutely
not. It was clear to me that she adored him.”
Unfortunately for me
.

Robert
nodded, digesting the information. “And my brother is well these days?”

“Well
and rich. He travels like a prince.”

Robert’s
grin was back; he had a special fondness for Braxton, the only brother out of
the four who had enough drive and ambition to create his own life away from
Black Fell.  The man had done exceedingly well for himself over the years,
something that Robert was proud of. He admired Braxton for not following the
path that the rest of the family chose. Braxton was, and always had been, his
own man.

“I
miss my brother,” he muttered in reflection.

Niclas
smiled faintly. “He said the same thing about you.”

Robert
glanced at him, his grin broadening.  Then he looked at his hands, disfigured
by the disease that twisted and enlarged his joints.  He flexed them, feeling
the pain that was his daily companion.   He could hardly hold a cup these days
much less a sword, but he had once been a very skilled knight. He missed those
days.

“It
is not my normal routine to ride with the army,” he said softly. “But to see
Braxton, I would ride to the ends of the earth. Have my charger saddled and
waiting.”

Niclas
nodded. “Aye, my lord.”

“And
then you will ride ahead and tell Braxton that we are coming.”

“By
your command, my lord.”

The
big black knight quit the hall, leaving Robert and the messenger as the only
two occupants.  Still flexing his fingers, Robert turned to the de Vesci
messenger.

“You
will return to the earl and tell him that Gilderdale rides for Erith,” he said.
“Have no doubt we shall seek the truth of the situation, whatever it may be.
Where is Erith, anyway?”

“West
of the town of Levens in Cumbria, I am told.”

“Very
well. Go, then; do as you are told.”

The
messenger saluted sharply and left.  Robert watched the man go, his mind moving
to the adventure ahead.  The messenger was correct; Braxton was a well known
mercenary and mercenaries were only out for profit.  He wondered if Braxton had
married the lady of Erith to gain wealth or if there was some other reason. At
this point, he was as confused as the rest of them.   But he fully intended to
know the truth.

***

For
five weeks, Erith was a fortress under construction. There was a frenzied pace
about it and the work went on day and night. Dallas and Braxton took turns
overseeing the rebuilding, hardly sleeping a few hours in between shifts; they
were both master builders, precise in their measurements and plans.  Braxton
could do the most complicated arithmetic in his head, which translated into
stronger walls and a stronger outer gatehouse.  The man was a talented architect.

They
had sent the bodies of Roger and William de Clare back to Roger’s stronghold,
Elswick Castle.  Braxton and Dallas knew, without question, that the death of
the earl’s cousin would not be well met but there wasn’t much they could do
about it. The wheels were in motion and they knew that sooner or later
Gloucester would seek revenge.  Their best hope for protection was to be
prepared.

The
past few weeks saw other changes as well. Braxton and Dallas now worked more as
a team rather than a commander and his subordinate. The marriage of Dallas to
Brooke had created a familial relationship and Braxton relaxed his usual strict
standards of conduct with the man, although it was still very clear who was in
charge. Still, Dallas seemed to be growing as both a knight and a man. 
Something about Brooke brought out another side of him and Braxton watched the
transformation with approval; Dallas had always been obedient, wise and
talented, but now he had added something deeper to the mix. He smiled more,
seemed more apt to go the extra effort in all things; the men, a word of
approval, assistance with rebuilding his fortress.   Dallas was moving from
obedient knight into a man of depth and character.