Henbury pointed toward the city center again, a bend on the River Avon. “That way,” he said. “Ye will pass Bristol Castle and continue on into the city. When ye come to the Avenue of the Jews, which is next to the river, ye will find it. Ye cannot miss it. It is the largest building on the street.”
Jareth was already looking in that direction. “Bristol Castle,” he repeated thoughtfully. “One of Henry’s properties. Who is the commander?”
Aidric spoke up. “The last I heard, the House of de Winter had taken it over,” he said. “But that was a year or two ago. I do not know if it has changed hands.”
Jareth cocked an eyebrow. “I would be willing to wager that the commander of the castle knows about The Feast.”
It was a logical suggestion. At least Jareth was willing to be reasonable and not rely on his anger and stubbornness for the moment. That was some progress. As Aidric had said, he may as well inspect what he was going to refuse.
The day was about to make an interesting turn.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bristol Castle occupieda prime location at the bend of the River Avon. It had an enormous moat around it that was fed not only from the River Avon, but also from the River Frome, which ran slightly to the north and bisected the town. It was an impressive property of stone and battlements, and extremely defensible. There were several gatehouses because there were several bridges across the moat, all of them disposable in the case of an attack. They could either be burned or pushed into the river.
Jareth had to admit that it was a remarkable castle. It wasn’t large, but it was sturdy and well maintained. The six knights went to what looked to be the main gatehouse, with a rather narrow bridge that spanned the moat, about fifteen feet above the murky green water. The horses could only go across single file, so Jareth went first. When he came to the gatehouse, he called up to the sentries and identified himself and the men that were with him. He asked to see the commander of the castle, in the name of the king, and identified himself further as a royal knight. His tunic, and the standards of the others, confirmed it. But he didn’t have to go to so much trouble—someone in the gatehouse recognized his name.
They ran off to fetch the commander.
As the Six stood there in single file, waiting for admittance, Jareth found himself looking off toward the city center, which was not far from the castle. It was off to the west and he could see many small fishing vessels moored on the banks of the river. He knew that the River Avon eventually wound its way to the sea, making Bristol a port city. The birds were circling above the vessels, diving down to pilfer from the catches brought ashore or capture loose fish scattered on the rocky bank. His gaze then moved to the city with its sturdy buildings and well-kept avenues.
It was the city his mother had grown up in.
Odd how he’d never spent any time here. His world had only been his father’s side of the family, and Cornwall had been their domain. As Jareth continued to wait for the commander to appear, thoughts of his father had his focus returning to his uncle and everything the man had left him.
He wondered if he’d ever get over the shock.
Truthfully, Jareth was still having a difficult time believing that in all of his years, he had never heard of the fact that his uncle and his grandfather had a brothel for a business. He knew about the shipping, and he knew about the merchant business, and if he thought hard enough, he could recall his mother saying something about other ventures in the city, but there had never been any mention of a brothel. He was coming to wonder if his mother had even known.
Part of him hoped that she hadn’t.
So, howdidhe feel about the inheritance? The more he thought about it, the more resistant he was. The more shocked and embarrassed he was. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as if he could pick and choose what he wanted to inherit versus what he didn’t want to inherit. The inheritance laws in England were strict for a reason, but that usually pertained to property of the nobility sodying old men who controlled their world couldn’t do what they wanted with it. The law always had the last word. He didn’t think there was any law that said a nephew had to accept a brothel as part of an inheritance from an uncle who was lesser nobility. Chester de Long, as far as he knew, had only inherited a very minor title from his father, Lord Easton. It was only a regional title with no real clout in the grand scheme of things, but it occurred to Jareth that nowhewas Lord Easton. That would have been a proud moment if the title hadn’t come with a trollop house.
He wondered if this day could get any worse.
As he was mulling over the shameful course his life had taken, the portcullis began to lift. He dismounted his horse to greet the commander only to be faced with a man he hadn’t seen in a couple of years.
Hugh de Winter grinned brightly at the sight of Henry’s personal bodyguards.
“Jareth!” he said happily, running over to hug the man. “Welcome to Bristol! And you brought the Six with you!”
Jareth smiled weakly at the younger brother of Davyss de Winter, head of what was commonly known as the de Winter war machine, an army so powerful that Henry had depended on it regularly for the vast majority of his reign. During the time of Simon de Montfort’s rebellion, the strength from Davyss and the de Winter army had been invaluable.
Jareth had to admit that he was glad to see Hugh.
“Are you the garrison commander now?” he said, surprised. “We’d heard that de Winter had taken over the property, but to see a de Winter himself at the helm? Astonishing.”
Hugh was an emotional and exuberant man, never afraid to give his opinion or question something he didn’t like. He was the embodiment of honesty even if honesty wasn’t the best course of action. No man in his right mind would resist or be aggressivetoward Hugh for two very good reasons—he was hell with a sword and his brother was even worse.
No man challenged a de Winter and lived to tell the tale.
But a challenge was clearly the last thing from Hugh’s mind as he moved to Aidric and Britt and finally Dirk, greeting them happily.
“Gentle knights, welcome,” he said, shaking hands. “In answer to your question, Jareth, I’m not the garrison commander. I am here to relieve Andrew Catesby. You remember Andrew?”
Jareth did indeed remember the tall blond knight who had served the House of de Winter for years. “I know him,” he said. “Andrew is the commander?”
Hugh nodded. “He is,” he said. “But his father passed away recently, so Andrew and his brother, Edmund, have gone home to bury their father. I am here until such time as they return.”
