The Falls of Erith (6 page)

“My
lady,” he addressed her. “I am Braxton de Nerra. These are my men.…”

The
older woman cut him off before he could introduce her to what she undoubtedly,
by her expression, considered rabble. 

“De
Nerra,” she repeated. “Correct me if I am wrong, Sir Knight, but are you of the
Anjou de Nerra’s?”

Brooke
piped up before Braxton could reply. “Anjou? In France?”

Constance
nodded coolly, her gaze never leaving Braxton’s face. Her entire manner reeked
of breeding, of arrogance. “The House of de Nerra is the hereditary family to
the Earldom of Anjou.”

Brooke’s
face lit up, looking at Braxton through new eyes. “An earldom?”

Braxton’s
eyes were steady on the older woman.  He never did look at Brooke. “My family
is another branch. We do not hold the Earldom of Anjou.”

“I
see,” Constance’s amber eyes appraised him. “So you have no connection with
Anjou at all?” Before he could answer, she waved her hand as if to wash away
the probing tone of her words. “You will forgive me, Sir Knight, but I was
raised in a fine house. I am quite familiar with peerage and it is always a
pleasure to meet an equal.”

Braxton
had known the woman all of thirty seconds and already he didn’t particularly
care for her. “The current earl is my father’s second cousin,” he replied. “I
have never met him, nor have any of my three older brothers.”

It
was an implication to the old woman not to expect what he thought she might be
driving at. An Anjou de Nerra would be a wealthy catch for her granddaughter
if, in fact, she was seriously trying to marry the girl off. He could just see
by her manner that she was ambitious, vain and haughty. No, he didn’t like her
in the least.

“You
have three older brothers?” Brooke was back in the conversation, oblivious to
the odd tension between her grandmother and the knight. “Are they all knights,
too?”

Braxton
looked at the girl. “Aye, my lady, they are.”

Her
eyes glistened. “Where? Do they serve great Houses or do they wander around
like you do?”

He
broke into a grin; she certainly didn’t mince words. “My eldest brother remains
at my father’s house, as he will inherit his rights upon the passing of my
father. My other two brothers my father as well, as the sons of Baron
Gilderdale.”

A
servant brought a trencher for both Constance and Brooke. Brooke delved into
the venison as if she was starving, while Constance merely picked at it.
Braxton was much more interested in watching Brooke, who wasn’t particularly
mannered. She gobbled and wiped her hands on her surcoat, and somewhere during
the conversation had spied Edgar and Norman.  Now her attention was torn
between Braxton and boys her own age.  While Brooke had a sweet innocence about
her that was refreshing, the old woman had the countenance of a hawk sighting
prey.

“Do
you see your father much, my lord?” Brooke asked with a full mouth.

Braxton
accepted his own trencher from a nearby servant. “Not too often.”

“What
of your wife, Sir Knight?” Constance came at him from his other side. “Surely
you must see her now and again.”

Like
a good warrior, the old woman went straight for the jugular. Braxton turned his
attention to her as one would attend to an adversary. “I am not married, my
lady,” he said evenly. “I will never marry.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
I cannot provide my wife with a steady home. I move with my army, constantly. I
have no intention of settling in one place.”

A
light twinkled in Constance’s eye.
She’s enjoying this
, he thought.

“But
surely given the proper circumstance, you would consider it.” It was more a
statement than a question. 

Braxton
merely lifted his shoulders. He would not let the old woman get the better of
him, no matter what she was driving at.

“It
would have to be a tremendously wealthy offer with much to my advantage.” He
made it clear that Erith did not qualify, nor did a fifteen-year-old bride.
“Moreover, I intend to travel to the Continent next year. I have a few
contracts that require fulfilling.  A wife and a House of my own do not suit my
purpose at this time.”

Brooke
was listening intently to him, chewing loudly. Braxton thought she might have
put the grandmother up to this interrogation, but he could see from her
expression that she was completely oblivious to what was going on.  But
Constance was more than aware; she was shrewd. Though Braxton had effectively
cut her down, she considered the match over, but not the war.  She sipped at
her wine, making a face as the liquid slid down her throat.

“Horrid,”
she hissed. “I do apologize for the quality of the wine, Sir Knight. It is not
up to our usual standards.”

Braxton
didn’t say anything. He suspected this wine
was
the usual standard.  He
looked at Brooke. “Where is your mother? She was here a moment ago but left the
hall.”

Brooke
shrugged, licking her fingers. “I do not know.”

“Perhaps
you should find her and have her join us.”

 The
young girl dug back into her meal. “She does not usually eat the evening meal.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
there usually is not enough…”

Brooke
ended her sentence with a yelp as Constance dug fingernails into the girls’
leg. The older woman smiled thinly. “She chooses to supervise the household so
that the rest of us may enjoy our meal.”

Braxton
wasn’t an idiot. He thought he knew what Brooke had been prevented from saying
and he was equally sure that Constance was either in denial of how bad things
were at Erith or simply wanted to cover up the truth. He couldn’t tell which. 
However, neither woman seemed concerned at Gray’s absence. It was perfectly
normal to them. Irritation bloomed in his chest and he stood up.

“Then
I shall find her and bade her join us,” his voice was low. “As she is the
hostess, it is only right she enjoy this bountiful feast.”

Constance
and Brooke watched him march from the room, curiosity on their faces, but
Braxton didn’t look at either of them. He was more intent on finding Gray and
discovering why she had left so abruptly.  He had no idea why her flight should
bother him so, but it did.

It
was cloyingly dark in the entry hall that led from the keep. To his left was a
small room, a solar of some kind he assumed.  He peered inside; it was empty
but for a chair and a table. He couldn’t see much else in the dark. Exiting the
keep, he took the repaired stairs down to the bailey, his gaze scanning the
yard. It was still for the most part, the ghostly moon creating weak light over
the landscape. 

Wandering
toward the three small fires that his men had started near the southern wall,
his eyes continued to scrutinize the area.  It didn’t take him long to
determine that the lady was not out in the yard, so he turned once again for
the keep.  As he did so, movement on a portion of the wall that was not
crumbling caught his attention; a flash of a figure had disappeared into the
shadows.  Knowing that Erith had no sentries, he switched from feast guest to
trained warrior. Until he knew who it was, he would take no chances. He hadn’t
stayed alive this long by being foolish.

There
was an open flight of stairs that led up to a functional part of the wall walk
where he had seen the figure. The problem was that he would be exposed the
entire time he mounted the steps.  He was without his armor, a disadvantage,
but his warrior instincts were in action and he mounted the steps anyway,
staying close against the wall and keeping himself a low profile target. 

At
the top of the steps where the landing joined the wall walk, there was an
intact tower.  Braxton had noted the tower earlier in the day, thinking it
strange that it had two floors but no connecting stairs. There was a hole in
the second floor, however, indicative that a ladder had once joined the two
levels. Silently, with great stealth, he made his way to the tower.  He was
almost at the doorway when a sword suddenly came flying out at him.

It
was a clumsy strike and he easily sidestepped it. In the same motion, he
reached out and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held it.  He was a split
second away from snapping the bones when he heard a decidedly female yelp. 
Giving a good pull, he heaved his adversary out into the moonlight.

The
heavy broadsword clattered to the stone as he found himself gazing at Gray. In
the eerie silver light, she had the look of a cornered deer, full of mistrust
and panic. His defensive posture immediately turned to curiosity.

“Lady
Gray?” his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t quite grasp what he was seeing.
“What on earth are you doing?”

She
opened her mouth to speak but was only able to discharge something that sounded
like a whimper. Braxton still had hold of her wrist and she was frightened. But
not so frightened that she could not summon her courage.

“I
am defending myself,” she hissed.

“From
whom?”

“You.”

His
eyebrows flew up. “Me? Why would you feel the need to defend yourself? What
have I done?”

She
was trying to pull away from him but he would not let her go. “You will not
insult my intelligence,” she spoke through clenched teeth. “Your men have
weapons in my hall, in my bailey. I know what you are planning. I am not as
stupid as you would think. You intend to take Erith from me and I will not
allow it.”

It
all came out as a jumble of words. Braxton cocked his head at her. “Take
Erith?” he repeated. But he could see by her expression that she was serious
and it suddenly explained a good deal about her manners towards him. “Nay, my
lady, you are seriously mistaken. My men bear arms because they are soldiers.
They would as soon bear daggers as they would wear boots, as both are second
nature to them.  I assure you that we have no intention of betraying those who
would be kind to us.”

Gray
was still trying to pull her arm free, but his grip was like iron. She began to
shake with fear. “Let me go.”

He
shook his head. “So you can run away again? Nay, my lady, we will clarify this
here and now. If that is what you have been thinking since the moment we met,
then you are sorely misguided.  Though I am a mercenary and not a reputable
knight, I am nonetheless an honorable man. I do not command a band of pirates
that would steal your fortress.”

His
voice was soft, soothing. Gray’s quivering grew worse and her knees suddenly
buckled.  Braxton caught her before she could fall, lowering her gently to the
stones of the wall walk.  He kept a good grip on her, partially to support her,
partially because he really did not want her to run away again. 

“But…
but you have brought weapons into my home,” she was struggling to keep her train
of thought as a strange buzzing filled her ears. “Your men have swarmed my
fortress…”

“Making
repairs to repay you for your hospitality.” He cut her off without force; it
was evident that she had never believed him about that. “I swear it upon my
oath as a knight, my lady. I have no intention of seizing your fortress.”

“I
do not believe you. It is not the truth.”

He
just stared at her. Then he sighed heavily. “You are correct,” he muttered. “It
is not the truth. Do you really want to know why we are here?”

She
gazed up at him, the pale moonlight emphasizing her ashen pallor.  “Tell me.”

He
met her gaze, his blue-green eyes luminescent in the gray light.  “Because
earlier today I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said
quietly. “I came to Erith because I wanted to bask in her presence.  I came
because of you, my lady, and for no other reason than that. I wanted more than
just a fleeting glimpse of you.”

Gray
stared at him. The swimming in her head was easing, but now her heart was
coming to thump strangely.

“Me?”

“You.”

She
was momentarily stumped. Could it be another untruth? Was he simply trying to
divert her from the reality? Looking into his handsome face, she couldn’t
imagine that he was insincere.  But the internal struggle was tremendous.

“How
do I know this is not a lie?” she hated sounding so fearful. “How do I know
that you are not plotting to gain my fortress even as we speak?”

The
corner of his mouth twitched. “I gave you my vow as a knight, my lady. I
suppose only time will tell if I was honest or not. When my men and I leave
your fortress tomorrow in far better repair than we found it, then perhaps you
will trust me, just a little.”

She
was gradually aware that his grip on her hand had eased and his fingers
caressed her flesh gently.  The touch was sending jolts of excitement up her
arm. “I… I do not know,” she spluttered.

His
gaze was steady on her, as if trying to read what she was thinking. He finally
shook his head.  “Who has done such terrible things to you that you would be so
suspicious?”

Gray
averted her gaze, trying to pull her hand away, but he held her fast. “Nay, my
lady, I’ll not let you run away. Not this time. I have come to this forsaken
place to slake my curiosity of you and I will not leave until I have done so.
Who has so horribly mistreated you that you would be so defensive? Tell me his
name so that I may seek him out and champion you.”