So she had spoken of the situation aloud, the truth behind the horrible family secret. It was painful to the ears, like a stab to the eardrums, but now it was out in the open;Mat is killing.
Was it true that the House of d’Avignon had sunk so low?
Truth be told, McCloud had been wrestling with the very same conflicts. He had for some time now, ever since he and his son began to starve and Mat, in order that they should eat, had taken to murdering men, women, and entire families in order to take whatever they had to bring home to his father.
Simply put, Mat killed so that he and his father could survive.
McCloud was complacent. Indeed, he was. But he was a sick, old man who was no longer worth anything with a small farm his family had kept for over one hundred years all dried up. The orchards no longer produced and the livestock had gradually been killed for food. Everything the d’Avignon family had stood for was gone now, as if it had never existed, leaving a starving man and son, as desperate as desperate could be.
And Mat… poor, simple Mat… had never been smart enough or diligent enough to train as a knight. God knows, McCloud had tried. He’d sent his son away to foster only to have the boy sent home because he was dense. He had no skills, no way of learning anything that would elevate his status or create a future for himself, so he’d gone out one night in search of food and had ended up killing a shepherd who had been tending a flock of sheep. Mat had stolen one of the sheep, which had kept him and his father fed for almost a month.
McCloud had been horrified by the event but his hunger had been stronger than his horror. He ate the ill-gotten sheep because it was all they had. But when there was nothing left but the hide, Mat had gone out again to seek food and had come across a farmer and his wife taking their produce to market. Mat had strangled the wife and bashed the husband’s head in with a rock, taking the cart of produce back to his father’s home.The produce went into the root cellar and the cart was used for kindling. The vegetables had lasted even longer than the sheep had, but once they were gone, Mat was forced to go out and procure food again.
And kill again.
It was a horrific cycle that McCloud, as a seasoned knight, should have stopped. He knew he should have stopped Mat and that he should have brought his simple son to justice. He began to hear whispers from those in the towns surrounding his farm that an angel of death was on the loose. People were living in fear. But the will to do what was right had left McCloud when he realized he could no longer feed his family. So his son continued his killing spree unimpeded.
Still, McCloud had one hope in a child who had been sent away to foster eight years earlier. A daughter who was more of a stranger to him than a child he was close to or fond of, but a daughter who could marry well and carry them all out of poverty. Aye, she was his only hope. But instead of being sympathetic to their plight, all he’d found when he’d visited Eynsford after all those years was a daughter who was repulsed by what her father and brother had become. She hadn’t been sympathetic in the least.
Now, she was once again speaking loud of their plight and McCloud didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling judged. He needed her help in all of this and he was going to get it. She was going to do her duty as a daughter should. With the reacquaintance with Val de Nerra, perhaps that opened up an entirely new world of opportunity.
It was all he could think of.
“Let us not speak of such things now,” McCloud said after a moment, pondering what was to come. “We have the opportunity to eat a fine meal and sleep in a warm bed this night. Let that be the only thing we think of this day.”
Vesper looked at her father; he seemed far too calm about the situation, as if nothing in the world was amiss. He spoke of a fortuitous meeting with the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire. She was starting to wonder what he meant. Even though she didn’t know him very well, something in his manner bespoke of a man with more on his mind than the fine meal and warm bed he spoke of.
“So de Nerra is your friend,” she said, studying his face for any hint of what he might be thinking. “I fail to see why you think this is such a fortunate meeting. Why do you not think that supping with the law in this land would not be opening yourself up for trouble?”
McCloud simply shook his head. “Because he is my old friend,” he said. “We shall not speak of your brother this night. I will ensure that nothing suspicious is discussed. We will speak of our adventures in France. Look, now, a sparrow has flown across the morning sun. That is a good omen. It will be a fine day.”
Vesper lifted her eyes to the sky, seeing a variety of birds flying overhead. It seemed to her that her father was trying to distract her now, unwilling to speak any more on Val de Nerra. Truth be told, she had about all of the arguing she could handle with her father. This journey had been an exhaustive one and the more she thought on a warm bed and a fine meal, the better she began to feel. It would be lovely to experience those things because she knew that once they left the Justice’s home, they would be faced with cold nights and hardship until they reached Durley. God only knows what they’d find when they got there.
Vesper couldn’t even think about it.
Spending the night in a safe and warm haven was looking better and better.
CHAPTER THREE
Selborne Castle
It was nearingthe evening meal, late in the afternoon, when Val and his men returned to the castle.
As they approached from the east, they could see the pale-stoned walls of the fortress gleaming in the sunset, protecting the enormous keep and hall within her bosom. It was a sight that Val never got tired of, a castle that had belonged to his ancestors, built by Saxon lords but fortified by the Normans. His blood ran within those stone walls with the lineage that his mother repeatedly preached to him. Truthfully, he was as sentimental about the place as she was.
Only he’d never tell her that.
The gates of the fortress were open, great iron panels lodged within a stout gatehouse. Beyond was the vast bailey with its large stables near the gatehouse. While further back by the keep, there was a stone troop house for the soldiers, two small cottages for the married knights, trade stalls, and the kitchens– butchery, buttery, store house, garden, and more. The keep itself was enormous, built of stone by an ancestor who adapted theNorman way of building and had constructed an impenetrable tower in the middle of the castle grounds.
The keep was unique in that it was fairly self-sufficient, built to withstand a siege even if the enemy gained control of the bailey and walls. An enormous iron gate protected an equally massive oak door, forged with iron rivets, which protected the small hall, a well and kitchen on the sub-level, several chambers that were small but well-ventilated, and even a chapel.
In all, the keep was a stunning example of functional Norman construction, as was the great hall next to it, built with heavy stone and a sod roof. To Val, the sight of his ancestral castle was something he drew strength from. Even as he reined his horse to a halt, he found himself surveying his castle as a Caesar would survey his empire. This washisempire. It was true that he had inherited this property, but he had worked hard for everything else. He didn’t consider Selborne a gift or simply his inheritance; he considered it something only he was worthy of.
Handing his steed off to a stable groom who had rushed out with other grooms to greet the incoming horses, Val began to make his way towards the keep, already inhaling the smells of the coming meal. He could most definitely smell pork. Smoke from the kitchens hung heavy in the air. Crossing the bailey, he was hungry already, thinking of the night ahead and conversation with McCloud. He was looking forward to an evening with someone he’d not seen in a long time and conversation with someone other than his mother and his knights.
Just as Val neared the steps leading up to the entry level of the keep, his mother appeared in the entry door. Val removed his helm, running his fingers through his damp hair as he mounted the steps.
“Valor,” his mother said sternly as he came within earshot. “Where have you been?”
