He didn’t mean it but the threat was enough to silence Davin as he rose to his feet. Austin stood up next to him, weaving unsteadily in the wake of a righteous punch to the head from his brother.
“She was hateful to us first,” Austin pointed out. “She told us that her new husband would fight us if we did not ply her with gifts every day for the next year.”
Derica fought off a grin, as did Garren. He pointed a thick finger at his sons. “That is because you have much to make up for,” he said sternly. “You three have harassed your sister since the day she was born. ‘Tis a wonder I didn’t throw you all to the wolves with all of the havoc you have wrought.”
Roselyn stood next to her father, nodding vehemently. “Putting honey in my bed,” she sneered. “And saffron in rosewater so it turned my teeth yellow. And…!”
Garren put his hand on her copper-blond head to silence her. “And probably more that I do not even know about so, if I were you, I would listen to her. Be kind to your sister on the event of her wedding. And if you go anywhere near her marriage bed, you shall rue the day you were born. Is that understood?”
Roselyn stuck her tongue out at her brothers for good measure; with her father’s support, she was brave enough to antagonize them. As she continued to make faces at them, Derica grasped her husband by the arm when he turned to walk away.
“Would you please bring me a selection of fabric while you are in town?” she asked. “I want to make some more garments for Aneirin’s child.”
Garren struggled not to roll his eyes at her. “Sweetheart, you have already made that child a massive wardrobe and he is not even born yet,” he said, then relented when he saw the look on her face. He threw up his hands and turned away from her. “Oh, very well; I know he is our first grandchild. Surely the Christ Child was not so anticipated or revered as Aneirin’s first child.”
Derica watched him go, knowing he felt the same way about Aneirin’s first baby as she did. They were both so excited they could barely stand it. Aneirin had been married to a fine knight for seven years, childless until this past year when she discovered that she was pregnant. Derica thought that Garren was perhaps more excited about it than Aneirin was although he pretended otherwise. It was a wonderful addition to their already wonderful world.
The sound of distant horses suddenly interrupted her thoughts. In fact, Garren came to a halt, turning towards the wide-open portcullis as the sounds of hooves grew louder. The portcullis of the castle was almost never closed, and that was usually only at night. Beaucaire had been at peace for four years since the Count of Toulouse had captured it, putting Garren in charge of the garrison.
Garren had served the Count since fleeing England some twenty three years earlier, having come to the Count with his father’s reference. Although Chateroy hadn’t been destroyed those years ago by the de Rosas, it had been heavily damaged and Garren’s father was thankful it hadn’t been razed altogether. He also understood, clearly, why Garren needed to leave England. So the Count accepted Garren into his service based on former service from Sir Allan le Mon of Anglecynn and Ceri. The Count never asked why Garren had left England and Garren had never offered. For over twenty years, it had been the perfect arrangement.
Therefore, Garren wasn’t particularly concerned with the sounds of approaching hooves but he did order his soldiers on the wall to lower the first of the double-portcullises about half-way. That was so men on horses couldn’t suddenly storm in and rush the bailey without getting their heads cut off. He approached the open gate as the sounds grew louder. Behind him, the four le Mon brothers were already moving to arm themselves; as trained knights, like their father, they were always prepared.
As Garren wait for the horsemen to make an appearance, Lily suddenly ran to her father before Derica could stop her, grasping her father’s hand tightly and smiling up into his concerned face. Although Garren knew he should send her back with her mother and sister into the keep, he relented when he beheld her lovely face, going so far as to wink at her and squeeze her hand. Happy, Lily pressed herself against her father, half-hidden behind his massive bulk, as three riders suddenly appeared at the half-lowered portcullis.
The riders immediately came to a halt; to go any further would mean getting knocked off their horses by the half-lowered iron grate. The horses danced about nervously as the riders eventually dismounted. One man handed his reins to the man next to him and ducked underneath the lowered portcullis.
“Stop,” Garren boomed. “Come no further before you announce yourself.”