Medieval Master Swordsmen(19)
She lifted an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Obediently, she returned to her food, listening to Robinson strike up a conversation about the possibility of selling his wares in the Rhayder baronetcy. It would seem that the man was an opportunist in spite of all of the bizarre things Rhys had told him. In fact, it had been difficult for Elizabeau to keep a straight face. When Rhys told Robinson he had a brother with an extra set of teeth, she had nearly choked on her cheese.
After listening to Robinson’s inane chatter for several long minutes, they were mercifully interrupted by two of the merchant’s men. There was apparently an issue with reloading some of the stock in the wagon and Robinson rose from his chair, bellowing at his men that they were imbeciles. But it removed him from Rhys and Elizabeau’s presence. Rhys stopped stroking her hair the moment the merchant left the room.
“Webbed feet and forked tongues?” Elizabeau blurted in a hushed tone. “My God, what a horrendous place you described.”
Rhys looked at her, noticing that she was nearly choking on her food in her attempt to suppress her laughter. “I thought the extra set of teeth was a particularly good touch.”
Her laughter broke through then and she struggled to swallow. “Appalling.” She took a drink of watered ale to wash down the cheese. “Do you really have a brother?”
“I do. He’ll punch me in the face if he knows I told such a tall tale about him.”
Her laughter faded as she gazed at him. “Is he the duke’s son, also?”
Rhys shook his head and took a healthy bite of bread. “Nay. He is my half-brother, born to my mother and her husband two years after I was born.”
“I see. Is he a knight also?”
“He serves my grandfather.”
“And who is your grandfather?”
“Berwyn de Llion,” he replied. “He is the Steward of Bronllys Castle, one of de Lohr’s holdings. My brother is his Captain.”
She thought on that a moment. “And your brother’s name?”
“Rod.”
“Is that where you are taking me?” she asked softly. “Are we going to Bronllys?”
Rhys finished his bread before answering. “I do not know yet. De Lohr is to plan our next move.”
Elizabeau didn’t say anything. Finished with her cheese, she simply sat and gazed into the fire. Even though she’d had a few hours of sleep and a meal, she wasn’t feeling very well and her throat was beginning to hurt. She suspected she had caught a chill as a result of being soaked to the skin for hours on end, but she hoped it would pass. At the moment, she was warm and well fed, so hopefully it would heal whatever illness that was attempting to take root. She had enough to worry about without the threat of contracting a deadly illness.
Robinson burst back into the inn, bellowing to the barkeep to pack some food for his journey. On his heels came Christopher de Lohr and a host of powerful knights, flooding into the tavern with their mail and weapons. Startled, Robinson moved out of their way and allowed them to pass. When more knights followed on the heels of the first group, the merchant vanished back into the kitchens as a safety precaution. Many knights, in close proximity, were never a good thing.
De Lohr’s hawk-sharp eyes found Rhys immediately. “Rhys,” he greeted, crossing the floor towards him. “Everything is well, I take it?”
Rhys nodded. “Indeed, my lord,” he greeted David as the man walked past him, heading for the fire, but continued to speak with Christopher. “We’ve seen no hardships since our arrival here. The lady is rested and fed.”
De Lohr’s sky blue eyes moved over Elizabeau, inspecting her from head to toe. He was surprised to see her looking rested and quite beautiful. “Where did you find the clothing?” he asked Rhys.
“We were fortunate enough to happen across a traveling merchant,” Rhys lowered his voice. “The man believes me to be an obscenely wealthy baron and has asked the lady and me to join him in his travel to the Marches. It might be the perfect disguise for our movements.”
“That is something we must discuss.”
Christopher pulled off a gauntlet and reached up to remove his helm. He had very blond hair, longer, which he ran his fingers through to slick back against his skull. Coupled with his neatly trimmed blond beard, it rather gave him the appearance of a lion. He had, in fact, been called the Lion’s Claw when he served as Richard the Lion Heart’s Champion. His blond-maned appearance gave credence to that moniker.
Rhys resumed his seat as Christopher and David sat opposite. Elizabeau watched curiously as the brothers de Lohr settled themselves, removing helms and gauntlets but keeping their weapons close at hand. She could see the family resemblance, though Christopher was quite a bit larger than his younger brother. David, however, had the biggest hands Elizabeau had ever seen on a man his size. As she studied the pair, the earl spoke quietly.