“Aye, you do. I told you it was a matter of honor. This is no longer about you. It is about your father and his damaged pride.”
She didn’t like being dragged and dug her feet in. “But you do not know how to deal with him,” she insisted. “I do. You must let me speak with him.”
He dragged her all the way to the keep entry. She yanked her hands free, facing him somewhat angrily.
“Do you hear me?” she demanded. “You must let me speak with him,”
He put his hands on his hips. “I hear you,” he said steadily. “But you will hear me or you will feel the sting of my hand to your backside. You will go into the keep and bolt the door. Do not open it for anyone but me or my knights. When I see how the winds of war are blowing with your father, I will return to you, but for now, I want you safe where I do not have to worry over you. Is that clear?”
She sighed angrily, suspecting he wasn’t going to give in to her demands this time, and she had no doubt he would do as he said. She had no desire to be spanked by him. So she stomped past him, up the steps into the keep, and slammed the door. Brandt grinned as he heard her throw the bolt.
With a chuckle, he proceeded down to the bailey of Guildford where his army was in the throes of mobilizing.
It was going to be a very long night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Deston de Nerrahadn’t gone on a battle march with his troops in almost twelve years. His failing health and diseased joints had seen to that, crippling him to the point of inactivity. But this march was different. Ellowyn had been abducted as far as he was concerned, and he would regain her no matter what the cost. She was the only child he had left that was worth anything, so he would stop at nothing to regain her. Not even his mother could stop him.
Aye, she had confessed her role in Ellowyn’s abduction. Lady Gray was not one to lie or shy from her responsibilities, and she had confessed everything the day after de Russe’s army fled with Ellowyn as their prize. Gray had spent the entire day discussing the situation with her son and trying to convince him that Ellowyn and Brandt were better off together, but Deston would not listen. He wanted his daughter home, with him, and not as the concubine of the Black Angel. It seemed that de Russe’s reputation was all he was fixated on. Brandt de Russe ceased to be an alliance that Deston was proud of and became instead an obsession for his shame. The obsession grew worse by the hour.
So he scrambled his army in spite of his mother’s protests and departed four days after Ellowyn’s abduction. He had also sent word ahead to an allied lord for troop reinforcements. Gareth le Mon of Clun Castle had been allied with Deston’s father, so the man provided an additional four hundred men to Deston. They were waiting for him on the road as he traveled south, and with the blended de Nerra and le Mon armies there were almost fifteen hundred men. It was a sizable force.
Deston and le Mon’s son, Dallan le Mon, drove the big army south. Dallan had seen his twenty-seventh year and was married with one child and another child on the way, and wasn’t particularly happy to be on a vengeance mission. He was a big, handsome man with a quick wit about him, and Deston took to him fairly quickly. He was always attaching himself to men that were his son’s age as if they were surrogate replacements.
Dallan knew the basic reason behind their march to Guildford Castle but he had shown extreme reluctance to lay siege to the Duke of Exeter. Everyone knew the man was the Black Angel and Dallan had argued with his father endlessly over attacking a man who was part of a larger war machine.
Ultimately, Gareth had committed resources to Deston’s cause so Dallan went along to make sure Deston, the emotional father, wasn’t too reckless with his actions. Dallan didn’t want to lose more men than was absolutely necessary.
Guildford Castle was a massively formidable bastion. Deston had never seen it, and neither had Dallan, so laying eyes upon the soaring walls and massive motte of the fortress set them both back a bit. There were moats within moats, walls within walls, and everything about it reeked of power.
From a distance, Deston and Dallan had observed the soaring gray-stoned walls of the keep and the curtain wall that had to be at least four times a man’s height. Nearing sunset, the golden rays of the sun warmed the stone, creating an almost glowing effect. The gates were closed and men were upon the walls, watching them suspiciously. The scent of battle was in the air, making them all edgy. Dallan finally turned to Deston.
“What will you do, my lord?” he asked, rather ironically. “Shall we burn it down now or wait until the morning?”
It was a sarcastic question, one that had Deston casting the man a withering glare. He hadn’t expected Guildford Castle topresent such a difficult target. In pain, exhausted, he shook his head irritably.
“Settle the men,” he barked. “I will speak with de Russe before this night is out. Perhaps he will understand the folly of what he has done and we can come to an agreement.”
Dallan was coming to think this truly was a fool’s venture, served by the pride of an embittered old man. He reined his horse around, shouting orders to the men as he thundered back into the column and leaving Deston alone, staring at the soaring walls of Guildford and wondering if he would ever see his daughter again.
*
“He wishes tospeak with you, my lord.”
Brandt heard the quiet statement. Seated in his solar on the first level of Guildford’s keep, he glanced up at Dylan, standing in the doorway. Torchlight flickered and the glow from the burning hearth cast shadows all around the room. Sitting up from where he had been hunched over a well-worn map of England exquisitely etched on vellum, he stretched out his big legs.
“Who does?”
“De Nerra, my lord.”
Brandt paused before replying. “De Nerra has brought a sizable army with him.”
“He is reinforced with troops from the Lord of Clun. His messenger was more than happy to inform us of that.”
Brandt thought on that a moment, folding his big arms across his chest. As he pondered the offer, the situation in general, the fire snapped softly and one of the dogs left behind by Arundel wandered over for a pet. Brandt, being rather fondof dogs, obliged the lanky, hairy beast. He stroked the dog pensively.
“Greetings, Dylan,” Ellowyn said, interrupting the silence. She came off the narrow spiral stairs with a cloak or blanket of some sort in her arms and headed for one of the chairs near Brandt. “Any vital news to report from the war front?”
