“What was that?”
“Tatius de Shera’s mother was Welsh,” he said. “His younger brothers are only half-brothers, sons of their father’s second English wife. The old merchant said that he had heard that Tatius de Shera was sympathetic towards the Welsh resistance under English rule.”
Alexander and Kress looked at each other curiously. “So he is sympathetic?” Alexander said. “If his mother was Welsh, I am sure that is a natural reaction.”
Padraig cocked an eyebrow. “Can you imagine the entire de Shera army used for the Welsh princes of the north? It would be a rebellion like none other.”
Alexander frowned. “But John recently married his daughter, Joan, to Llywelyn, the last great Welsh prince,” he said. “Llywelynisfrom the north and surely he will not rebel against the English now that he has an English wife.”
“Are you certain of that? With the de Shera army behind him, he could do a good deal of damage to the Marches. The great Marcher Lords– de Lohr and de Lara included– would be under great threat.”
It was a rather stunning bit of information, something that was not lost on the four knights, who glanced at each other rather ominously.
“Have you told The Marshal about this?” Kress asked the obvious. “If not, then you must. He needs to know. If de Shera truly has Welsh sympathies, then marrying him to the last great Welsh princess could be detrimental to England, at the very least.”
Padraig returned to his wine. “I have told him,” he said. “When this betrothal came up, I had to. We get travelers here from time to time, crossing through the midsection of England and on into Norfolk, so gossip is not unusual, but this merchant seemed to know a great deal. As I said, his business is in Chester, so he has been there a very long time and knows the politics ofthe lords. When I told The Marshal what I’d heard, he didn’t seem to be concerned. It is only rumor, after all. The younger de Shera brothers control the army, as Tatius shows no interest in his earldom, or at least that is what The Marshal told me. He seems to think it is important to marry Cadelyn to de Shera simply to balance out the power in the north.”
“The power against John,” Kress finished quietly, looking at his companions, who seemed to understand the situation as well as he did. His focus returned to Padraig. “And you say Cadelyn has no interest in this betrothal?”
Padraig shook his head. “Not in the least,” he said. “She may be Welsh-born, but she is English to the bone. Even if Tatius wanted to lend his armies to the Welsh, I am certain she would have no part of that. It might be the saving grace.”
“Why do you say so?”
“Because disharmony from a Welsh princess against her people’s rebellion will cause confusion. She will not be the beacon of inspiration for them, if they hope for such a thing.”
It made the situation far more complex than anyone had anticipated. There were politics at work; but, then again, there were always politics at work when it came to William Marshal and King John. That was nothing new. But this was more than they had anticipated and certainly more than William had let on. Kress pondered the information for a moment longer before speaking.
“Thank you for telling us what you know,” he said. “Our eyes will be open a little wider as we head into Chester.”
“Exactly.”
Padraig lifted his cup to Kress, drinking deeply, and the knights followed suit. It seemed as if their simple escort mission suddenly wasn’t so simple. The conversation veered away from the coming escort mission at that point, perhaps because Summerlin had said all he wanted to say, and they began todiscuss the fine horses that Padraig had in his stables. The man had a priceless Belgian warmblood stallion that he was breeding with sturdy Spanish Jennet mares and creating offspring that were much in demand. In fact, he had Achilles’ attention, as the man had a particular interest in fine horse flesh, so the next hour or two revolved around horses and breeding, among other things.
Kress and Alexander, however, didn’t have too much interest in that subject, so they branched out into a conversation of their own, mostly about what Summerlin had told them. As William had told the four, Alexander was the decision maker and, at the moment, Alexander wasn’t pleased with what he’d heard. He was wondering if they were going to run into unexpected issues once they reached The Paladin because of it. He and Kress were discussing the possibility of sending The Marshal another missive about what Summerlin had told them when they began to hear voices in the foyer.
Female voices were echoing off the stone, drawing their attention, as the majordomo entered the hall from the keep entry. From the angle of the sun, it was beginning to set and the great hall was growing dark, and the old man was directing the servants to stoke the fire and light the banks of fat, tallow candles that filled the corners of the hall.
But the knights weren’t paying attention to the servants. They were paying attention to the host of female voices, drawing closer. There was a short staircase from the entry leading up into the hall, and they could see the figures of women coming up the stairs. It was still dark enough in the hall that they couldn’t distinguish anyone, or see facial features, so Kress didn’t pay much attention until Padraig spoke.
“Ah,” he said. “Lady Cadelyn has arrived.”
With that, Kress stood up, purely out of courtesy for the woman and her position. He heard Alexander hiss somethingthat sounded like “Oh, Christ,” which caused him to look at the man. But Alexander was looking at the approaching women, and Kress turned his attention in that direction as well, for emerging into the dim light of the hall was the young woman with the pearl ribbons in her hair.
Kress’ eyes widened.
“Lady Cadelyn,” Padraig, said, oblivious to the knights reacting behind him. “It seems we had some difficulty locating you today. I do not recall giving you permission to leave the grounds.”
The young woman opened her mouth to reply but, behind her, an older woman pushed forward, putting herself between the young woman and Padraig.
“I gave her permission, my husband.” Lady Delesse de Winter Summerlin had made an appearance. A pretty woman with brown hair and brown eyes, she was fixed on Padraig. “She took her companions with her and went to purchase writing materials. She has made the same trip into town dozens of times without mishap.”
Padraig eyed his wife impatiently before returning his attention to Cadelyn. “My lady, the knights from William Marshal have arrived,” he said, turning to indicate Kress and the others. “You were foretold of this. They have come to take you to your betrothed.”
Kress was staring at Cadelyn when she caught sight of him. He’d had a few seconds to overcome his shock at seeing her, but she had no time at all. Her gaze fell upon him and her eyes widened dramatically. Kress could see some kind of strong reaction coming, so he quickly, and gallantly, dipped his head.
“My lady,” he greeted evenly. “It is a pleasure to be of service. Permit me to introduce my fellow knights– Alexander de Sherrington, Achilles de Dere, and Bric MacRohan. We are all pleased to be at your service.”
Cadelyn’s startled gaze moved from Kress to Alexander, to Achilles and finally Bric before returning to Kress. To her credit, she didn’t respond in a confused or surprised manner. She seemed to understand that Kress wasn’t going to acknowledge that they had already met. With that understanding, she calmed dramatically.
