The Falls of Erith (9 page)

“Do
not worry, darling,” she went to her granddaughter, stroking the silky blond
hair. “You shall have a wealthy husband, I promise. But the next time Sir
Braxton comes to Erith, we must ensure our position with him. We must make sure
that he does the honorable thing.”

Brooke
looked at her. “What do you mean?”

Constance
played with the girl’s hair. “There are… ways.”

“What
ways?”

Constance
leaned in close, her lips almost against the girl’s ear. “Listen and learn,
darling. Your grandmother knows best.”

***

Creekmere
Castle was a small fortress built in the shape of a triangle.  It was partially
buried against a heavily forested hill and nicely arranged, as Braxton noticed
as his army approached. Baron Wenvoe carried around one hundred fifty men, not
a sizable force.  In fact, Creekmere seemed like a miniature version of a
normal sized castle.  Everything about it was small, including its lord.

Neil
Wenvoe met Braxton in the bailey of his small, red-stoned fortress.  He was
short and round, with small eyes and a smelly aura.  Braxton left Dallas
settling the men and went inside the small keep to conduct business.

He
was on edge as he followed the baron into the dark, fragrant structure.  He had
been on edge ever since leaving Erith, feeling more apprehension with every
step of his destrier. It was unusual that he felt such apprehension; he had
been a mercenary for twenty-one years and in that time, had learned to keep his
apprehension at bay.  He knew his anxiety was not because of the job itself. He
did not fear battle.  His trepidation lay in the unknown details that would
soon be made clear to him.  Something told him to expect the worst, and for
good reason; Cumbria was relatively sparsely populated. How many troublesome
neighbors could Wenvoe have? With an unsettled debt with Garber Serroux, a
neighbor less than a day’s ride to the south, there was good reason to be
suspicious.

The
keep was three stories, with one room per floor. The baron took Braxton into
the great hall, well furnished with fresh rushes, fat tapers, and even a
tapestry hung high on the wall.  Fine wine, cheese and brown bread were brought
out to refresh them.  The baron took a seat on the long scrubbed table,
motioning for Braxton to sit opposite him.

“I
take it your travels were uneventful,” Wenvoe said.

“We
had no trouble, my lord,” Braxton replied.

“Good.
Then we may get to business.”

So
much for the pleasantries, though in Braxton’s business, he was used to the
lack of social graces. Men did not hire him for his oratory skills

“Your
initial missive stated that you had need for my military services, my lord,”
Braxton said. “You mentioned trouble with a neighbor. I would hear the entire
story and what, exactly, you want of me.”

Wenvoe
nodded. “Trouble indeed,” he snorted. “I will tell you my situation and exactly
what I need from you. You shall be well paid for your efforts.”

“I
always am, my lord.”

Wenvoe
lifted a bushy gray eyebrow at the comment but continued along his line of
thought. “I have many friends and allies in Cumbria and elsewhere. Not too long
ago, my ally, Edward de Romille of Skipton Castle, sent a missive to me that
was of particular concern.”

“And
what is that?”

“’Twould
seem that someone is trying to cheat me out of what is rightfully mine.”

“If
you would be plain, my lord.”

Wenvoe’s
round face flushed. “Years ago, a former ally borrowed a great deal of money
from me. When he could not pay it back, he promised me the hand of his daughter
when she became of age in repayment for this debt. Now I am to discover that
the family is soliciting marriage offers for this same daughter when the girl,
and the fortress, rightfully belong to me. And I would now take what is mine.”

Braxton
suddenly had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He simply could not
believe what he was hearing, though in truth, he was not surprised.  The
coincidence was nauseating and he knew, before names were even spoken, who the
family was. It was all to close, too coincidental. It was like a bad dream.

“And
this family, my lord?” he asked steadily.

“Serroux,”
Wenvoe’s expression took on a furious cast. “They are in possession of Erith
Castle, to the south about a half day’s ride. Garber Serroux was a close ally
until he took my money and failed to pay it back. When I discovered his deceit,
he promised me his daughter’s hand when she came of age, the fortress and his
hereditary title of Baron Kentmere in repayment.  The fool got himself killed
before we could strike the written contract, but of no matter; it was a verbal
contact and binding. My majordomo is my witness with that.”

Braxton
took a long, steadying breath. “How did de Romille come to know that the family
was soliciting marriage offers?”

“Because
they were sent a missive from Erith. De Romille has two marriageable sons.”

“Yet
he knew of Serroux’s contract with you. How?”

“De
Romille is married to my cousin. We have oft spoke of the time when Erith would
belong to me. It would strike an unbreakable line of allies between Kendal and
Skipton. So when he received the solicitation of marriage, naturally, he knew
that I would want to know.”

It
was a struggle for Braxton not to react. “What do you want me to do?”

Wenvoe’s
eyebrows rose. “Lay siege to Erith, of course. I am told that they have no army
and no defenses, so it should not be a difficult task for you to take the
castle.”

Braxton
stared at him. He fought off the urge to laugh at the irony of the situation.
“You have over one hundred men here. Why do you not lay siege yourself? Why
send for me?”

“I
will send some of my men with you, but your vicious tactics are well known. I
heard tale from Carlisle that you led a charge against Grassgarth Castle last
year that had your men infiltrating a nearly impenetrable fortress within a few
hours after the siege began.  You lay siege towers on their sides, bridged the
moat, burnt the portcullis and entered.  Lord Carlisle said it was the most
brilliant strike he had ever seen, hence my reason for contacting you. I would
pay handsomely for that brilliance, de Nerra.”

Though
Braxton had not signed anything, by his sheer presence he was implying that he
would take on the task. That is how his sort usually worked. He wasn’t sure how
he could back out of this. Moreover, Wenvoe had a claim that would hold up. If
Serroux had indeed given him a verbal promise, with a witness no less, his
claim was quite legitimate. He had every right to seize Erith, and Brooke
Serroux, in payment for the debt. 

Braxton’s
mind began to work quickly.

“My
lord,” he began. “I passed Erith on my way here. It is a broken down castle and
nothing more. Certainly not worth all of the expense you are going to pay me to
claim it.”

“Perhaps
not. But the land is worth something. What will be your fee for such a task?”

Braxton
regarded him a moment. “How much did Serroux owe you?”

“Why
is that of concern?”

“Curiosity,
my lord.”

Wenvoe
shrugged. “He had borrowed twenty thousand gold marks, a handsome some.”

“That
is a good deal of money.”

“Indeed.
So you can understand why I would claim my right to Erith.”

“I
will give you thirty thousand gold marks if you will relinquish your right.”

Wenvoe’s
puny eyes widened.  He abruptly straightened, the bench beneath him groaning
under his weight. “What’s this you say?”

“You
heard me. Thirty thousand gold marks and you sell me your rights to Erith.”

The
baron was clearly astonished. He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it just as
quickly. He gave Braxton a most queer expression. 

“What
is your interest in Erith, de Nerra? You are a soldier of fortune. You are paid
to fight other men’s wars. And now you would give me money to forget about
mine?”

“My
reasons are my own. I will pay back Serroux’s debt and then some. Enough so
that you should be satisfied.”

Wenvoe’s
wide eyes suddenly narrowed. “But you make no sense. What is Erith to you?”

“Absolutely
nothing. But as I said, I passed it on my way to Creekmere. It is a place
unworthy of my talents. A child could raze the place. No amount of money could
coerce me to shame myself by kicking over a castle made of sand and call it a
victory. My skills are worth far more than that.”

“Your
talents are for sale and if I pay the right price, you will do as I wish.”

“Sell
me your rights or I’ll raze Creekmere.”

What
had been a fairly pleasant atmosphere of professional bargaining suddenly
turned ugly.  The mood that swirled between them was dark, moody and ominous.
The baron looked at Braxton as if the man had lost his mind.

“You
come into my home and threaten me?” he hissed.

“Not
a threat, my lord. Consider it a promise of things to come. I will buy
Serroux’s debt for thirty thousand gold marks, assume your rights to the
Serroux heiress, and hear no more about it from you.  Are we clear?”

The
baron was red in the face.  His mouth worked into a thin, angry line. “What
about an alliance? You will be my neighbor. Can I expect hostility from you as
my neighbor?”

“If
you are worried about allegiance, consider me a loyal neighbor.” He leaned
forward on the table, his blue-green eyes as hard as stone. “And I assure you,
baron, that you would much rather have me as a friendly neighbor than a bitter
enemy.”

“You
are giving me little choice.”

“I
am giving you none at all.”

Wenvoe
weighed his options. This day had not gone as planned, but with the acquisition
of thirty thousand marks of gold, it had not been entirely unpleasant.  He held
his furious gaze a moment longer, just to know how displeased he was with de
Nerra’s threats.

“Pay
me my money before daybreak and be gone with you.”

“Put
your agreement in writing and you shall have your money by within the hour.”

 Exactly
an hour and half later, Braxton and his men were back on the road to Erith. But
not before they made a slight detour to Kendal.

***

“Mama!”

In
the kitchen yard, Gray heard her daughter calling her. But she was busy
churning butter, as the elderly cook had injured her back, and had not the time
to stop what she was doing to respond to her child.  She called out instead.

“Here,
Brooke. In the kitchen!”

Clad
in brown broadcloth and the mended apron, Brooke raced around the side of the
keep and straight into the kitchen yard.  Her blond hair was everywhere, her
cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Mama,
he’s come back. Sir Braxton has come back!”

Gray
did come to a halt, then.  Puzzled, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the
back of her hand before wiping her palms on her apron. It was just shy of
sunset; Braxton had been gone a little over a day and already he was back.  She
felt a strange sense of excitement at her daughter’s announcement.  But she
also wondered why he had returned so soon.

“Where
is he?” she asked as the two of them left the kitchen yard.

Brooke
was half-trotting, half-walking. “In the bailey. Hurry, Mama. He’s brought
gifts!”

 Gray
froze for a moment, staring at her excited daughter. A bit bewildered and more
than curious, she resumed following her bouncing child out into the main
portion of the bailey.

Braxton
and his men were indeed returned. The five massive wagons were being parked against
the southern wall while the bulk of the army was already setting up their
encampment.  Brooke decided her mother wasn’t moving quickly enough and raced
back to grab her hand, tugging her along. Very shortly, they ran headlong into
a big black charger with an equally big knight astride it.

“Sir
Braxton,” Brooke said excitedly. “Here she is. I found her just as you asked.”

Gray
looked up, shielding her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. Braxton was
astride his destrier, clad in full battle armor. She’d never seen the man with
his helm on. In fact, she’d never seen him in full armor. Every time she had
been around him, he had been in various stages of dress – mail only, pieces of
plate armor, and no armor at all.  He didn’t seem fanatical about maintaining
his plate protection at all times as some knights did. Now, clad as if going to
war, he looked imposing, powerful, and frightening.  He smiled down at her, his
blue-green eyes glowing.

“My
lady,” he greeted in his soft, deep voice. “This day has you looking well.”

She
smiled faintly. “And it has you looking as if you are preparing invade a small
country,” she replied, to which he snorted. “Why have you returned? Has
something happened?”