Especially against a wicked knight.
“Thank you, de Wolfe,” he said. “I will deal with the prisoner in my own way, but I thank you for taking charge of him.”
“My lord, you may need us,” Paris said seriously. “Le Kerque is a fighter. Kieran could barely subdue him. It took William and I to help get him down to the vault.”
Christopher looked at Kieran, quite possibly the most muscular young knight he’d ever seen, and the man didn’t have a fraction of de Norville’s arrogance. He seriously doubted that Kieran would have trouble with any man alive. Therefore, he tried to keep a straight face in the wake of Paris’ boast.
“I understand,” he said steadily. “But, as you can see, I’ve brought reinforcements. If the four of us cannot handle him, we’ll send for you.”
Paris looked at David, at Addax and Essien, and nodded reluctantly. “If you are certain, my lord,” he said.
“I am,” Christopher said. “In fact, you need to get over to the competition field. I know my sons are already over there,preparing, and they will be starting the event soon, so you do not want to miss it. You are on their team, are you not? You must hurry.”
“And you are certain that you can handle le Kerque alone?” Paris said, giving it one last try.
“I am,” Christopher said decisively. “Maddoc, you go with them. They’ll need your strength.”
Maddoc was already heading for the stairs. “Do you know where my father is, my lord?” he asked.
Christopher gestured up the stairs. “The last I saw him, he was in the de Efford tent, trying to separate Harald from the weaponry through his head,” he said. “Go, now. All of you.”
Kieran and Paris were now following Maddoc up the stairs, but William remained. His gaze was on Christopher.
“I was rather hoping you would be in the competition, my lord,” he said. “My father used to tell stories of you back in the day. He said you were unbeatable.”
“I still am,” Christopher said, his eyes glimmering. “Be glad that you do not have to face me.”
“I would like to, my lord. Very much.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“Mayhap someday?”
“Mayhap.”
William grinned, as did Christopher. After patting the young knight affectionately on the cheek, Christopher turned back to the cell as William ran to catch up with his friends. Handing the lamp off to David, he took the key off the wall and unlocked the cell.
“Le Kerque, we have some questions,” Christopher said as he stepped in.
Lance was sitting on the straw, his back against the cold, stone wall. His face was battered, one eye nearly swollen shut.
“I am certain you do, my lord,” he said with a battered mouth. “I will tell you what I told those idiots who just left. I did not kill Harald de Efford.”
“I know,” Christopher said. “Lady Mercia has absolved you, but I want to hear it from you. What happened?”
Lance shrugged, perhaps with some relief to hear that Catalina had defended him. “I am not entirely sure,” he said, shifting painfully where he sat because he had a cracked rib or two. “I went to speak with Lady al-Kort, but I suppose we are calling her Lady Mercia now?”
Christopher nodded. “That is what she is,” he said. “Essien is the Earl of Mercia with Harald’s death. Now, proceed.”
Lance did. “I went to speak with her,” he said. “During our conversation, she became upset and stumbled back onto the ground. I was moving to help her up when Lord Eckington entered and… and the man went mad. I do not know why, but he shouted at me and swung an iron sconce at my head. I put up my arm to block it, but the force of my raised arm knocked Eckington sideways and he fell into the weapon stand. I swear upon my oath that is all that happened. There was nothing more.”
“You did not push him?”
“Nay,” Lance said firmly. “All I did was put my arm up, though I may have pushed at the sconce to keep it away from my head. I do not remember if I did, but whatever I did was enough to send Eckington falling into the weapon stand. His daughter screamed, Lord Mercia came into the tent, and after that… there was a row.”
Christopher grunted. “I would say so,” he said. “Mercia had every right to, Lance. I am certain you can see his perspective, coming into a tent where his wife is screaming and her father is dead on the floor. It is natural that he would think the worst.”
Lance fixed on Essien, then. “I do not blame him,” he said, mostly speaking to Christopher, but shifting his focus after that. “I never touched your wife, my lord. I swear it.”
