“Where is your liege?” he demanded.
The sergeant’s eyes widened at the sight of an angry earl with a big army. He pointed towards the inner bailey.
“Inside the hall the last I saw, m’lord,” he said. “I will escort you.”
Edward let go of the man, eyeing Caius and Maxton as they began to follow the sergeant through the gatehouse and into the outer ward, which contained troop houses and trades and the stables. It was a large area surrounded by walls and moats on all sides. They proceeded across a massive bridge that spanned an inner moat, which was nearly as large as the outer moat, and smelled just as awful. Caius found himself looking down into it, seeing all manner of rotting carcasses floating in it, including what looked to be a fresh human body. As Edward stayed close to the sergeant, who was running at this point, Caius reined his steed back by Maxton.
“God’s Bones,” he muttered. “Have you ever seen anything like this in your life?”
Maxton’s eyes were on the enormous inner bailey walls in front of him and the big gatehouse. “I’d heard Winterhold was big,” he said quietly. “I simply didn’t realizehowbig. This place could give Lioncross Abbey grand competition on the Marches. It’s positively enormous.”
Caius shook his head in amazement. “This has to be one of the largest castles on the Marches,” he said. “No wonder John has declared Marius de Wrenville to be his new favorite. He wants control of Winterhold.”
Maxton cast him a long look. They both knew what that would mean. With de Lohr, de Wolfe, and the Marcher lords of de Lara nearby as powerful allies securing the Welsh Marches, that meant that John had very little control. De Lohr, de Wolfe, and de Lara were loyal to the king because they had to be, but they were not at his mercy nor did they obey his whims. Their loyalty was more to each other, making them a large and unmovable faction that John had no real power over. But controlling a castle like Winterhold would change that because the king would have the loyalty of a big Marcher castle and the big army that went with it.
The situation was beginning to take on some added dimension.
Once through the secondary gatehouse, the surprisingly crowded inner ward of Winterhold unfurled before them. There was a great hall immediately to their left, but in front of them lay not only a big, square tower, but also a keep that was quite sizable. There were outbuildings and a walled garden, and in all, the place was quite a jewel in the crown of the Marches and Caius had to admit that he was impressed.
It was a hell of a place.
They reined their horses to a halt in front of the great hall as the sergeant ran inside. The hall itself was built, strangely enough, from wattle and daub, and was separated from the rest of the buildings by its steeply pitched roof. As Caius and the others dismounted their weary horses, the sergeant reemerged from the hall with a man in tow.
“My Lord Wolverhampton,” the man said, a cup with some kind of drink in his left hand. “You honor me with your surprising visit. Why did you not send word ahead? You frightened my gatehouse sentries.”
Edward turned to the man, clear disgust and unfriendliness on his face. “De Wrenville,” he greeted. “We must speak. Take me someplace private.”
Covington de Wrenville’s face fell at the decidedly terse words. This was no social call. In fact, he looked rather confused. He looked around to the men with Edward, his gaze falling on Maxton and then Caius. He stared at Caius a moment, possibly because he was such an enormous man with a myriad of sharp weapons on his body. Men of Caius’ size often spurred fear, something that registered on Covington’s face. His gaze finally moved back to Edward.
“Of course, my lord,” he said. “Do you not wish to come into the hall on this snowy night and warm yourself with drink and genteel conversation first? The fire is most comforting.”
Edward was cold and angry. He shook his head. “Private, I said. Now.”
Covington nodded unsteadily, looking at his sergeant as if the man could give him some hint as to why the Earl of Wolverhampton was here and angry on top of that. But the sergeant looked back at him helplessly.
“Find Hallam,” Covington muttered. “Send him to my solar.”
The sergeant dashed off, gladly so. Motioning to Edward and the men with him, Covington led his liege across the wet innerbailey as the snow continued to fall. Wispy flakes gently tumbled through the air, but it was falling even more heavily now than it had been earlier. It was beginning to fill up the night sky.
Covington took them into the keep, which was warm and smelled of fresh rushes. It was neat and clean, well-managed from what they could see, and they followed Covington into a large solar off the entry. Maxton was the last knight in, motioning to Edward’s guard to wait outside. As he shut the door, Edward was already beginning the conversation.
“Am I to understand that you are waging war against Hawkstone Castle?” he said.
The expression on Covington’s face suggested that he now realized why Wolverhampton was so angry. He still had the cup of alcohol in his hand and he set it down on the nearest table, taking a step away from Edward, who was quite close to him. Being that Edward was a large man, he was intimidating.
Covington backed away.
“They have been our enemies these past three years, my lord,” Covington said.
Edward’s golden eyes were glittering. “I know you believe they are your enemy,” he said. “I also know you have led attacks against them and I have told you in the past to cease. Am I to understand that you have disobeyed me– again?”
Covington was trying very hard to stand against Edward. “It is my duty,” he said with a surprising show of courage. “Rupert de Thorington is loyal to Philip, yet you have done nothing about it. It is my duty to…”
Edward cut him off. “Rupert de Thorington isnotloyal to Philip,” he said. “I want to know who has told you such lies.”
“My son,” Covington countered indignantly. “My son has brought that information straight from the king himself. John believes they are disloyal to him. So in service to the king, it is my duty to confiscate Hawkstone.”
Edward eyed him. He was a diplomat, and a fine one, but at the moment, all he felt like doing was punching Covington in his lying mouth. Still, he kept his calm.
