Medieval Master Swordsmen(430)
“So I finally get you all to myself.”
They were sheltered from the elements in the dank passage. Garren stopped walking and turned around. “So it seems.” He moved back towards Fergus. “I assume you have information for my ears only.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I just do. I know you, Fergus. There’s something else.”
“Perhaps,” Fergus regarded him. “I have a question for you.”
“Ask it.”
“Where are you really going, Garren?”
It was more a statement than a question. Garren answered evenly-. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly that. You’re not going back to Chateroy, are you?”
“I said I was. What makes you think otherwise?”
Fergus’ pale blue eyes glittered. “Something that one of the de Rosas said to me.”
“And that was?”
“That perhaps you are going to see William Marshal.”
Inwardly, Garren flinched. “William Marshal? Why would I want to see him?”
“As a member of his inner circle. As a man who is loyal to Richard in the most sworn sense.”
Garren snorted. “So they told you I was a spy, did they? They accused me of that to my face.”
“You do seem to wander a bit, Garren. It would explain a great many things about you.”
Garren rolled his eyes. “Not you, too,” he growled. “Fergus, listen to me. The de Rosas think that everyone is somehow involved with William Marshal, especially the man who eloped with their only female kin.”
“He seemed terribly certain. He said to tell you that he was on your side, and he wanted me to warn you against returning to Chateroy.”
Garren grew serious. “The de Rosas are waiting for me there.”
“They’re going to raze it. They are probably laying siege as we speak. I did not want to say anything in front of your wife for fear of upsetting her.”
“That was wise,” Garren said. “And you say it has been at least a week since you saw the de Rosas?”
“Aye,” Fergus replied. “They’ve already had time to amass and reach Chateroy by now.”
Garren fell silent, mulling over his options. Fergus watched him closely. “What are you going to do now?”
“I must defend my father’s house, of course.”
“By yourself?”
“My father has two hundred men at arms. It is a sizable force.”
“Against the de Rosa thousand?” Fergus shook his head. “That’s madness, Garren. Chateroy will fall if it hasn’t already. And if you go back there now, they’ll kill you. What about your wife?”
Garren’s eyes turned in the direction of the great hall, as if he could see her through all of the stones that separated them. “I must deal with the consequences my actions have brought upon my family,” he said softly. “She understands that.”
“She’ll understand everything until you get yourself killed, and then she’ll go mad,” Fergus said. “Trust me, my friend, when it comes to women. They never mean what they say.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Do you have anyone with an army you can call upon for support?”
Garren wouldn’t be sucked into that line of conversation again, and he wondered seriously why Fergus was trying to probe him. Knowing Fergus, it was purely nosiness.
“Let me think… I could call on my father, I suppose.”
“Oh… right.”
Garren didn’t like being toyed with, especially not by Fergus. He cocked an eyebrow at him, his manner sarcastic. “I suppose you could ask Longton for help, but being allied with John, I don’t suppose he’d respond.”
“Not bloody likely.”
“Any other suggestions?”
“Sorry, not at the moment.”
The thought of Chateroy under siege was growing increasingly disturbing. Garren suddenly felt a strong sense of urgency. He turned from Fergus.
“I must go and see what they’ve done to my father.”
“Garren,” Fergus took a step after him. “I wish you wouldn’t. It is a trap.”
“Be that as it may, my father would not be in trouble were it not for me.”
Fergus watched him until he was nearly out of the gatehouse. “Garren, there’s something else. Another message from the de Rosa brother that saved my hide. He said that if I speak it, you will know the truth.”
“What?”
“I am sorry, my friend. So sorry.”
Garren came to a halt. “For what? Fergus, I don’t have time for this.”
It was odd how the expression on Fergus’ face had changed. Garren had never seen such a look, something between wisdom and sorrow. It was an expression that cut through Garren like a knife.