Essien was trying not to become angry or agitated. “Mayhap you did not,” he said. “But you waited until I was out of the tent before approaching her.”
“That is true,” Lance admitted. “But I had something for her and I thought it would be better to deliver it to her in private.”
“You mean the cross?” Essien said. “She told me about it. What I want to know from you is where the man who gave it to you is.”
Lance sighed heavily. “I told him to wait for me in the loft of the stable next to the tournament field,” he said. “You’ve not seen this man, my lord. He looks as if he has been roasted alive and lived to tell the tale.Horrifyingis how I would describe him, so I told him to stay out of sight.”
“Did he give you his name?”
Lance nodded. “He said it was Al,” he said. “Beyond that, he could not tell me more. He was in a terrible accident that evidently robbed him of most of his memory. If you see him, you will understand.”
Essien looked at Addax. “Al,” he whispered. “Her husband’s name was Alfred.”
Addax didn’t know what to say. He could see despair sweeping over Essien and he wanted to comfort him, but there would be no comfort until they found this man and got to the bottom of things.
“So this man wanted you to believe that he is Lady Mercia’s first husband, back from the dead?” Addax said, because Essien was quickly falling into ruin. “Did he tell you that?”
Lance shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “He did not tell me that and I did not get that impression, but it did seem to me that he was simply looking for answers. He was looking for who, andwhat, he was, and he was hoping Lady Mercia might be able to tell him based on that cross.”
“And out of the goodness of your heart, you are helping him?”
There was sarcasm in that question, but Lance only saw the irony of it. “Mayhap,” he said. “I understand a little about people being lost and looking for answers. I’ve been lost and looking for answers my entire life, ever since Juston de Royans took me into foster and gave me the name of le Kerque. It was his mother’s name, you know. He tried to give me a world to belong to, knowing I could never be part of the world that bred me. So I carried his mother’s name, but it was not mine. I have a different one.”
The conversation had taken a huge swing, away from the man who had given him the cross and venturing into a realm of lost or found or belonging. No one was really sure what he was talking about. As Addax reached out to Essien, grasping the man’s arm to give him some sense of comfort, Christopher and David were still mulling over Lance’s swift turn of focus.
In fact, they were a little startled by it because of the mention of one name…
Juston de Royans.
He was a man who had fostered and mentored both Christopher and David, and a host of other great knights of their generation. Juston de Royans was a knight’s knight, a man who’d molded the knightly sensibilities of a generation. To discover that Lance had also been part of the men under his wing was surprising to say the least.
“You fostered with de Royans?” Christopher said, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.
Lance didn’t reply right away. He simply averted his gaze from the de Lohr brothers, watching Addax comfort Essien and wishing that he’d had a brother he could turn to like that. Infact, the sight of two sets of brothers standing before him did something to him. The very thing he’d kept buried deep inside him, the very thing that had made him who, and what, he was, was starting to come forth, erupting like a volcano.
The hurt.
The anguish.
The lack of belonging.
“Aye,” he finally said. “I fostered with de Royans. I know that the two of you used to serve him. He was your teacher, your counselor. He mentored many of the great knights of your generation. I know of your relationship with him. The entire time I was at Bowes Castle, I heard of nothing else.”
Christopher and David looked at each other, puzzled. “I do not understand,” David said, his focus shifting back to Lance. “What do you mean that you heard of nothing else but my brother and me?”
Lance sighed sharply. “I was brought to Bowes Castle by my mother when I was very young,” he said. “I am told that I was barely more than an infant, for I do not remember. My mother was a serving wench in a local tavern and my father was an elite knight. Unfortunately, my mother was married to another man at the time I was conceived, and this man would not accept me as his son, so I was given to Sir Juston’s wife, Lady Emera. She is the one who raised me until de Royans took over my education. She’s the only mother I remember, but she was not my real mother.”
Christopher crouched down a few feet away. “Was your father one of de Royans’ knights?” he asked. “Is that how you ended up at Bowes?”
Lance nodded. “Aye,” he said, finally looking at Christopher. “You can ask de Royans if you do not believe me. He has seen eighty summers by now, but he is still alive the last I heard.”
Christopher shrugged. “I will not ask him anything,” he said. “But I am quite puzzled by this entire conversation. We did not come to discuss your past, but Eckington’s death and your role in it. Let us return to that subject, please.”
Lance didn’t want to hear that. Beaten and bruised, he struggled to his feet, though for him, it was an act of rage. His entire body was quivering with anger, with disappointment, and he didn’t care that Christopher wanted to discuss something else.Hehad something to say to Christopher and David and he was damn well going to say it. He’d waited a lifetime to say it.
He might never have another chance with the two of them, together.
“I will return to the subject after I say what I need to say,” he said, glaring at Christopher and David. “Aye, I fostered with Juston de Royans because of my father, a de Royans knight. Because I was his bastard, I could not secure a decent enough position once I came of age. Even with de Royans’ connections, positions were difficult to come by because I did not bear my father’s name. Therefore, I have spent my life as a bachelor knight, mostly. I was a mercenary for a while, but the money was better on the tournament circuit. I have been riding the circuit regularly for the past ten years, in England and in France, but a chance meeting with Harald de Efford in London saw me swear fealty to him. I did it because he was a de Lohr ally, a neighbor. I did it because Eckington is situated near Lioncross Abbey.”
