“Because I’ve spent my life trying to protect you,” he finally said. “When we were young children and our father was facing the loss of his country—our country—I could do nothing to helphim. I could do nothing to protect you. When we were being used by the merchant as slaves, starved and beaten, I could not protect you. All I have ever wanted to do is protect you, Essien. You are my brother. You are the only family I have. Let medosomething now. Let me save your happiness because, as your big brother, that is my right. It is my right and my honor to make your life easier because there were so many times when I couldn’t.Please, Es. Let me do this for both of us.”
Essien had tears streaming down his face by the time his brother was finished. There had been such pain in his words, the helplessness of his position as the older brother, the protector, and being unable to do anything when their situation was out of control. Now, he saw something he could help with, something he could prevent. He could protect his brother’s happiness, even if it required being brutal to achieve it. Addax wasn’t seeing that—he was only seeing the hope of the situation.
Hope that Essien’s happiness could survive.
“You are my big brother,” Essien said, wiping at his face. “You are the greatest man I know. I will always, always respect and admire you. You do not have to kill for me.”
“Aye, I do. And I will.”
It was a heartbreaking, terrible situation. Essien reached out, grasping his brother by the arm as he struggled for something to say. But his thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Christopher and David as the two of them headed toward the gatehouse.
They were coming from the encampment and the de Efford tent, where they’d been discussing the situation. They knew what Addax and Essien knew, that Lance was in the vault. The man who seemed to hold the key to everything. When Addax and Essien looked over at them, David lifted a hand in greeting.
“Ah,” he said. “Four earls in one place. I do not think I’ve seen so many earls since the last gathering of warlords for Henry.”
It was true. The Earls of Hereford, Canterbury, Deira, and Mercia were all standing in one place. But it also underscored the gravity of the situation where it pertained to Essien. He might not be Mercia at all, and as painful as it was, he hastened to tell them.
They had to know.
It was like a nightmare for Essien having to relive it, telling Christopher and David everything that Catalina had told him about the cross and the man that Lance had been in contact with. But in the same breath, it was clear that so much made sense now. Christopher and David had been wondering why Lance was in the de Efford tent, and now they knew.
There was something more to the story.
A mysterious man was the very heart of this entire situation.
“And we think this man who gave Lance the cross is still here, at Lioncross?” David finally said.
Essien nodded, trying not to look entirely miserable. “Aye, my lord,” he said. “We have come to ask Lance if he knows where the man is. Mayhap he is in the village, at a lodging. I want to know where he is and I want to talk to him.”
That was understandable. Christopher felt bad for Essien, having married a woman whose first husband might be still alive. In fact, he felt quite guilty about it.
“Come with us, then,” he said. “We were going to interrogate le Kerque and get some answers. A man is dead and I must have all of the facts. But you can ask him about the man who gave him the cross. That is your right, Essien.”
Essien nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Peter and Ashton questioned the Eckington guards,” Christopher said. “They could not offer much more to the story,as they were outside nearly the entire time. But they did confirm that Harald was enraged by Lance’s presence in the tent. One man saw him grab the candle sconce next to the door.”
“Then there is truth that he attacked le Kerque?” Essien said.
“There seems to be,” Christopher replied. “But we must speak with Le Kerque. I want to hear his side of things.”
With that, the four of them headed into the southern section of the gatehouse. They entered the guard room, a big room with a dirt floor and a blazing hearth, and then passed through a sturdy wooden door that led to a narrow staircase leading down to the vault below.
The iron sconces in the stairwell were fitted with blazing tapers, casting light and black smoke into the air. The fat of the candles burned dirty. They had to be careful going down the steps because they were stone, and damp, and one slip would send them straight to the bottom. Christopher went down first, followed by David, Addax, and finally Essien. The main area of the vault below was vast, hard-packed earth that had been lined with stone, and it was built under the wall rather than the gatehouse because the constant traffic on the ground above could make the vault itself unstable. There were five different cells—four smaller ones and then a larger one that was tucked into a corner.
Christopher had had the vault dug out several years ago after he converted the abbey portion of the castle to the knights’ quarters, so as far as vaults went, this one was newer and relatively nice. It was low-ceilinged, however, so Christopher and Essien had to be careful not to hit their heads.
William, Paris, Kieran, and Maddoc were waiting for them as they reached the bottom.
“My lord,” William greeted Christopher. “The prisoner is conscious.”
Christopher peered past the young knight, seeing a figure in the cell behind him, but he was unable to see much more than a dark figure until he took the fish-oil lamp that Maddoc was holding and held it up so he could see Lance better.
The man had been beaten within an inch of his life.
Given what Christopher had been told about Lance’s purpose in the de Efford tent, it was clear that the man hadn’t deliberately done anything to Harald, nor had he touched Catalina. Events out of his control had made him appear guilty of murder. Of course, the younger knights didn’t know that and had treated him accordingly. Christopher couldn’t fault them for that, really. They were young and eager and very highly trained, keen on a world of right and wrong. That was the knighthood, and they were knights.
Justice was their vocation.
