The Falls of Erith (5 page)

“My
lady,” he greeted her, the warmth still lingering in the blue-green eyes. “How
may I be…?”

She
cut him off, not intentionally, but it was a rushed gesture. “My lord,” she
didn’t seem to quite know what to say; all she knew was that she had to say it
quickly so he could stop his men on the stairs. “Your men are… that is, may I
speak you in private, my lord?”

The
three knights standing with Braxton immediately excused themselves.  Braxton
crossed his thick arms, allowing his gaze to move over her luscious blond hair,
the sweet shape of her face.  She had deliciously delicate features. But he
quickly focused on her eyes, a magnificent brownish-gold color, and waited
patiently for her to speak. She stood there and fidgeted uncomfortably for
several long moments before commencing.

“Your
men are… are fixing my steps, my lord,” she lowered her voice. “As much as I
appreciate the gesture, I am afraid… that is to say, those repairs were
something we intended to do when we… well, perhaps before winter sometime we
were.…”

She
was stammering and her cheeks were flushed.  Braxton’s lips curled into a
smile. “You are welcome.”

She
stopped stammering and stared at him. “What?”

“I
said that you are welcome.”

Her
cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. “Of course, it is a most generous
gesture, but we cannot… what I mean is that I do not have the means to
compensate you for this work.”

His
smile broadened. “Your generous hospitality this night more than compensates me
for the work.”

She
gazed up at him with eyes that were mesmerizing.  “But you have provided the
entire meal, my lord,” her nervousness was lessening, making way for a tone of
wonderment. “All we are doing is providing the means by which to cook it.”

“And
you are providing your home and your company, of which I am most
appreciative.”  It occurred to him what had her so rattled; she thought he
would expect payment for the repair and he hastened to assure her that was not
the case. “My lady, you took pity on a host of weary men. Your generosity
outweighs any meager chores we could do for you. In fact, before we leave, I
intend that we should do much more to thank you for your graciousness.”

She
was astonished.  “But… we would have done the same for any weary traveler.
There is no need to rebuild Erith in order to thank me.”

He
laughed softly, his teeth straight and white. “By the time my men and I are
finished, you will not recognize this place.”

“But
why?”

“I
told you why. Because you are kind and hospitable.”

Gray
wasn’t sure what more she could say, but one thing was for certain; he was
doing far more than he should. A glance over her shoulder showed that several
of Braxton’s men were taking a look at the rotten portcullis on the inner wall,
gesturing to the working mechanisms and obviously discussing how to remediate
it. She took another look around the bailey and realized that his men were
spread out everywhere, surveying the decay and already making attempts to
repair it. She turned to Braxton, shaking her head slowly.

“You
do too much, my lord.”

His
smile faded, the blue-green orbs gaining in intensity. “I am just getting
started.”

She
gazed into his eyes, wondering why this man should be so kind to her. A great
part of her was deeply touched, yet another part of her, the protective part,
was still very wary.

“I
do not mean to seem ungrateful, my lord,” she said quietly. “’Tis simply that
guests do not normally work for their hosts to pay for their meal and board.
Some people might take it as an insult.”

“Do
you?”

She
lifted her slender shoulders. “Nay. But I am not sure how I can possibly repay
you.”

His
smile returned. “As I said, a good meal and good company is payment enough. It
is rare in my line of work that we experience pleasantries and such an event is
priceless. We are very glad to do what we can for you to repay such
graciousness.”

Gray
did not know what more to say.  She should probably stop him, but she couldn’t
seem to muster the will. He seemed thoughtful and sincere; it was hard to
refute him.  He made it sound as if she was the one doing him the favor. 
Braxton’s men were distributed in small groups out all over the fortress,
working on various things – the stable roof, the portcullis on the inner wall,
and there were several up on the outer wall inspecting the crumbling stone. 
She stood there a moment, drinking in the activity, allowing herself to feel
just the slightest bit touched by his actions.  It was an odd, warm feeling
that she’d never before experienced.

When
she looked back at him, her cheeks were flushed with gratitude.  She was not
accustomed to someone showing her such kindness and, although she should have
still been rightfully suspicious, there was something in his manner that put
her at ease. 

She
hoped that she would not regret it.  

CHAPTER
THREE

As
Gray had planned, the grand hall of Erith was resplendent with light and fresh
rushes as it had once been when times were more plentiful.  More than the
appearance of the hall, it was the mood of it. Standing in the main entrance to
the hall and clad in the finest surcoat she owned, a faded yellow silk, Gray
stood a moment and absorbed the ghost of the once-great hall; the days when
Simon de Montfort and his beloved Eleanor sat at the dais, or when great nobles
of the north gathered to feast over a victory greatly won.  She could hear
their laughter and feel their spirit.  It was something she’d not felt in a
very long time.

The
servants had brought all of the precious fat candles in the keep into the hall
so that they would not have to dip into the stores for them. Consequently, the
rest of the keep was in blackness. Gray had dressed by firelight from the
hearth in the old but clean surcoat that had once belonged to her grandmother.
It was sorely out of date but it was the best she had.   With her blond hair
pulled away from her face and secured with another heirloom comb that had once
belonged to the wealthy Grays, she had cleaned up rather well.  And old bronze
mirror in her room told her so.  For a woman who had seen twenty-nine sometimes
difficult years, she was as beautiful and youthful as she had ever been.

Brooke
was still finishing her dress. It took the girl hours sometimes to dress, a
strange occurrence considering they had nowhere to go. It wasn’t as if she was
fancying herself for a great gala. But Brooke took great pains to brush her
hair just so, or put a precious ribbon on a bodice that had seen better days.
There wasn’t a day that passed that Gray wished she could give her daughter all
of the pretty things she longed for. Even though there was no use in wishing
for what they did not have, still, it did not prevent her from feeling guilt or
sadness for her daughter’s plight.

 A
few of the servants were beginning to bring out the loaves of bread. The rich
smell of the baked goods filled the hall and Gray inhaled deeply.  As she moved
into the room to speak to one of the women about the shortage of wooden cups
that would undoubtedly be facing them, Braxton and his men entered the keep.
She heard their voices before she saw their faces, and a cluster of powerful
men soon came from the entry and spilled into the great hall.

Braxton
was the first face she recognized. His blue-green eyes focused on her
immediately and, as a good hostess, she went to greet him and his men. Dipping
in a graceful curtsy, she smiled timidly.

“Welcome,
my lords,” she said to Braxton, to the group. “You may take a seat anywhere.
The meal will be served shortly.”

The
men thanked her silently. Gray’s gaze moved across the line of men; tall, blond
and handsome Sir Dallas, shorter and stocker Sir Graehm, and very tall and
sinewy Sir Geoffrey.  Slightly behind the knights stood two brown-haired boys,
perhaps a year or two older than Brooke. Their eyes were roving about the room,
wide-eyed and curious of their surroundings. 

The
knights excused themselves and the young squires with them, drifting towards
the long table and selecting their best spots. Braxton, however, continued to
stand in front of Gray.  She felt somewhat self-conscious, feeling his heady
gaze upon her.

“Where
do you sit, my lady?” he asked.

She
gestured towards the worn table. “Usually at the end. There is oft much to do
and I must be able to move from the table freely.”

He
lifted an eyebrow. Then he extended his arm, indicating for her to take his
elbow. “Tonight you shall sit and enjoy the meal,” he said as she hesitantly
took his arm. “And I shall sit with you.”

His
softly uttered words caused her cheeks to flame brilliantly. She had no idea
why.  He was without his mail and plate armor this night, dressed in a soft
linen tunic and leather breeches as he led her over to the table and helped her
sit before taking a seat beside her.  She stole a glance at him as he poured
her a measure of wine into a wooden cup and then took a helping for himself.  
His face was washed and it looked to her as if he had shaved, for his skin was
smooth.  It was curious that he had taken time to clean for this meal.  As if
it meant something. 

He
lifted the cup in her direction, distracting her from her thoughts. “To our
lovely hostess,” he said loud enough for his men to hear. “To you, my lady, our
thanks for your kindness in offering us food and shelter.”

The
other three knights around the table took up their cups and drank heartily. 
The wine was cheap, bitter, but none of them flinched as they sucked it down. 
In fact, two of them poured themselves more.  One of them was Braxton. Gray was
suddenly embarrassed at the cheap quality of the wine, but it was all they had
to offer. 

A
few more soldiers filtered into the hall, seasoned-looking men that took up
seat in various places around the room.  Gray was unused to having soldiers in
her keep and she was somewhat nervous watching them mill about. They were wearing
weapons.  Deep down, she wondered if they weren’t going to rob her or seize the
castle from under her, but when she gazed back at Braxton, she couldn’t
honestly believe that.  He had been extraordinarily kind to her. But, then
again, perhaps that had been his scheme.  He was a mercenary, after all.
Perhaps he was going to lull her into a false sense of security before
snatching the fortress for his own.  They were, after all, easy prey.

Her
natural suspicion began to grow. More soldiers wandered into the hall and her
anxiety took flight.  Mayhap she had been stupid about this entire situation,
letting her confusion destroy her common sense. Setting her cup down, she
excused herself from the table and fled the room.

Braxton
sat there a moment, staring at the empty doorway from where Gray had just
disappeared.  He’d barely said a few words to her and she was running from
him.  The moment he had met her at the falls of Erith, in spite of the fact
that he had saved her daughter, she had been mistrustful of his company.  He
had reviewed their conversation a few times; he doubted it was something he had
said. And since his arrival at Erith, he’d gone out of his way to show her
kindness and generosity.  In truth, he had no idea what it was about him that frightened
her so.

He
took a long drink of the unpleasant wine, listening to Dallas and Graehm debate
the quality of Hereford leather against Douglas leather. It was a foolish
conversation, but Dallas and Graehm seemed to have many foolish conversations.
They debated each other on the smallest things to see who had the most
knowledge about a particular subject.  Geoff usually stayed out of it, content
to laugh at the two for their arrogance.  Squires Edgar and older brother
Norman sat against the wall behind the arguing knights, shoving bread into
their mouths.

Braxton
usually enjoyed these ridiculous exchanges, but not tonight. Tonight he was in
no mood for his men’s entertainment. He had been looking forward to Lady Gray’s
company and was, in truth, disappointed.  The servants began to bring out
heaping plates of venison, filling the room with its heady smell.  He sat back,
drank, and watched his men dig into the fare. From the corner of his eye, he
caught movement by the door.

Hoping
it was the lady returned, he was disappointed to see young Brooke entering the
hall in the company of an older woman.  Braxton noted the girl, washed and
dressed in her worn clothing, but found more curiosity with the older woman.
She was fine featured, frail, and he could see the resemblance between Lady
Gray and this woman.  When the two ladies approached, he stood up politely.

Brooke
smiled broadly at him. “My lord,” she dipped in a practiced curtsy. “Please
meet my grandmother, the Lady Constance Gray de Montfort.”

De
Montfort
. It was
the first time Braxton had heard that name within these walls. It confirmed his
suspicion that the de Montforts did indeed retain the holding once awarded to
their ancestor Simon.  Now it belonged to a derelict branch of the family. He
bowed his head in greeting.