“I am seeking William Marshal’s escort,” a male said.
Kress couldn’t really see who had spoken because of the white backlight. He let Alexander respond, since he was in charge of the escort.
“Who is asking, my lord?” Alexander said politely. “Identify yourself, please.”
The man stepped further into the room, followed by another male figure. Further behind them, a small figure wrapped in a cloak came into the chamber, followed by a few armed men, who shut the door.
At that point, the lighting in the room balanced out and the knights could see who they were talking to. The first man was tall and fair-haired, dressed in exquisite armor that looked as if it hadn’t seen a day of fighting. Everything about it, and him, screamed of wealth. The man behind him was shorter,pale-skinned and dark-haired, and dressed in nearly the same fashion. Two extraordinarily-dressed knights in something not usually seen– something called a muscle cuirass. It was a heavy vest that covered the chest area, sometimes leather but sometimes even steel, and not something that was usual to the fighting men of this time.
It was, however, usual to ancient warriors, like the Romans, whom the de Shera’s descended from. Their cuirass was made from metal with the de Shera bird of prey on it. In fact, Kress found himself seriously studying what the two de Shera men were wearing. He’d fought with them before, in the past, but he didn’t remember seeing this ceremonial finery on them. The craftsmanship was remarkable.
“I am Atilius de Shera,” the first man said, pointing to the man right behind him. “My brother, Fabius.”
Recognizing the pair now that they’d come into the light, Kress spoke first. “I am Kress de Rhydian,” he said. “We have fought battles together, in the past.”
Atilius eyed him as if trying very hard to remember him. “When was this?”
“The last time was in Wexford,” Kress said. “This was about sixteen years ago when de Clare and Marshal were fighting in Ireland. Your father supported de Clare. I was in the service of The Marshal. We’d taken the town by force and celebrated by stripping the merchant district of their goods.”
After a moment, the light of recognition went on in Atilius’ eyes. “Aye, I recall now,” he said slowly. “In fact, I think I lost a horse to you in a gambling game while on that campaign.”
A smile tugged at Kress’ lips. “The money I sold him for kept me supplied for an entire year.”
Atilius tried to keep a stern face but he ended up laughing. “Hewasa good horse,” he said. “Only the finest for the House of de Shera.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
“Then you know me. You know we have come for my brother’s bride.”
Kress lost all humor in that small statement. He simply looked at Alexander, who spoke on behalf of the escort.
“We sent word that we would bring her to you, my lord,” he said. “In fact, the lady has been ill with a cough and a fever, which is why we have not yet come to The Paladin. We are giving the lady time to recover.”
“She is ill?”
The question of concern came from a small woman who, when she stepped into the light, had the same dark eyes and pale blonde hair that Cadelyn had; they could all see it.A relative, mayhap?Kress thought. In fact, the woman seemed quite worried as she stepped forward, fixed on Alexander.
“How ill is she?” she asked. “Has there been a physic to tend her?”
The woman spoke with a heavy Welsh accent. “She is feeling much better, my lady,” Alexander said. “It is nothing to worry over, but she did not wish to meet her betrothed with a red nose, as you can understand.”
The woman didn’t seem convinced. She looked at Atilius and Fabius as if silently demanding they do something about this. Atilius, noting the wrought on the woman’s face, spoke quietly.
“Where is the lady, then?” he asked. “May we see to her health for ourselves?”
Alexander didn’t give permission, not yet. “Where is your brother?” he asked, changing the subject slightly. “Should not the earl be here to greet his bride?”
Atilius nodded. “He should, except he does not leave the safe confines of The Paladin,” he said, looking to Fabius behind him. “Ask my brother, Fabius; he will tell you. Tatius awaits his betrothed at The Paladin and has asked us to bring her to him.”
“I assume you have a missive to us to that regard, signed by the earl?”
Atilius stiffened slightly. “There is no need. I am his brother and you have my word.”
That wasn’t good enough for Alexander. He looked at Fabius, at the woman who had spoken, and the armed soldiers back by the door.
“Who are the rest of the people who accompanied you?” he finally asked.
“Welsh relatives of Cadelyn of Vendotia,” Atilius said. “In fact, the woman in front of you is her mother, Nesta ferch Madog.”
