“Brandt!”
He turned in the direction of the shout, seeing Edward standing at the table nearest the hearth. Brandt acknowledged the prince and made his way over to the table.
Edward was thrilled to see Brandt. Relatively tall like his great-grandfather, the young prince was slender but strong, with a head of dark-gold curls. At twenty and six years, he was young but extraordinarily experienced. Much of his training as a soldier had come from Brandt, and men like him, so the Prince of Wales had learned from the very best. As Brandt drew near, the prince reached out to grab his hand and shake it.
“I was told of your victory over de Clermont,” he said, excited. “My Angel of Death strikes again. Brilliant, my friend, truly. We are pleased.”
Brandt smiled weakly as he sat at the table and the prince began shouting for food. In little time, Brandt had an enormous trencher in front of him piled with well cooked beef and boiled carrots. He dug in without another word.
“You did what you set out to do,” Edward sat down beside him, watching him eat. “I never had a doubt that you would weaken de Clermont. We needed that, Brandt. You know this.”
Brandt nodded. “Our intelligence on de Clermont’s movements was correct,” he said, mouth full. “It was simply a matter of waiting for him. He played right into our hands.”
Edward was vastly pleased. “How many men would you say he lost?”
Brandt swallowed the bite in his mouth. “He must have had fifteen hundred men with him, but we felled several hundred. I would estimate when he retreated, he was down by half.”
“Excellent,” Edward said. He digested the victory, savored it, and collected his cup of wine. “You have been away for several days. Much has happened in that time, and your victory is a major contribution for our cause.”
Brandt looked up from his meat. “What has happened?”
Edward sipped his wine. “My dear friend, King Jean, has rallied his troops at Chartres,” he said, somewhat quietly. “As we speak, Suffolk, Salisbury, and Oxford are moving to reinforce my armies. Warwick is already here, as you know. I have received word from Jean that he wishes to discuss the situation to avoid what is sure to be a massive battle right here on this very spot. I want to move to Paris. He does not want me to move at all. It should be interesting here at Poitiers to say the least.”
Brandt considered the information. “How many men has the king rallied?”
“Our scouts tell us ten to twelve thousand.”
Brandt looked at him a moment before returning to his food. “They outnumber us.”
“Not by much.”
“Did you tell the king you would negotiate?”
“I told him we could speak but I do not negotiate.”
“When is this conference to occur?”
“By the end of the month. I have given no specific date.”
It was already the third week of the month. Brandt knew that if he was going to see his wife, he had to do it now. There was no time to waste. Too much was happening, building to what would surely be an explosion of epic proportions. He swallowed the bite in his mouth, took a long gulp of wine, and stood up.
“Then I am going to Melesse before these negotiations take place,” he told Edward, weaving wearily on his feet. “If King Jean truly has as many men as you say he does, and we sit here with seven thousand men at best, this conflict near Poitiers will come fast and furious. It could be devastating for us. If that is the case, I wish to see my wife before this battle to end all battles comes.”
He was already moving and Edward jumped up beside him, his hand on the man’s arm. “Wait,” he said urgently. “Brandt, you cannot go, not now. Did you not hear me? Jean is on our doorstep and….”
Brandt pulled his arm from the prince’s grip, cutting him off. “I heard you,” he said, his voice low and bordering on threatening. “I told you I am returning to Melesse. Make this conference with Jean at the end of the month and I will be back in time.”
Edward put both hands on him this time, the friendliness out of his expression. “You cannot go,” he said, his voice low. “I forbid it. I need you here.”
Brandt knew this moment would come. He had been expecting it, and he was prepared. Very calmly, he looked the prince in the eye.
“Edward,” he said, his voice so low that it was a growl. “I am going home and you cannot stop me. If you try, I will leave here, take my three thousand men with me, and fight for King Jean. You heard me correctly. I will take everything I have and side with the French. I have spent eleven years of my life doing everything you have ever asked of me and I do not like it when you deny me the small things I ask of you. At this moment, all I want to do is return to Chateau Melesse and see my wife. If you deny me, you will lose everything. Is this perfectly clear?”
Edward had a temper but he held it admirably. His jaw ticked, his face turned red, and his body tensed as if preparing for a fight. He wasn’t used to having his wants denied and he certainly wasn’t used to sharing someone he wholly depended on. He was possessive. But he also knew that what Brandt said was true. The man didn’t bluff.
“I will have you arrested if you try to leave now,” he muttered.
“Try it and there will be blood spilled everywhere. Is this truly what you wish?”
