Medieval Master Swordsmen(96)
Rhys looked at him. “She told you that?”
Edward nodded. “It was something I already knew. Yet she spoke of it so sadly and I never understood why until she confided in me about the child. The prince will not want her now. “
Rhys studied the man with the soft manner; there was something in his words, his tone that reminded him of a woman. There was gentleness there. But he didn’t give it a second thought; his thoughts were full enough of Elizabeau and the child she carried. Their child.
Of course, he understood fully the implications of a pregnancy. He was no fool, not even in his current mind set. He knew that all eyes would look to him and condemn him, including de Lohr. He and Elizabeau had discussed this very scenario not long ago and all of the horrors related to it. He would not relive it in his mind again, because no matter how well he understood the repercussions of such a thing, it did nothing to erase the naked joy he felt at the news. He felt as if he had been suddenly reborn.
Turning on his heel, he marched towards the keep with Radcliffe behind him trying to keep up. Edward alternately stared at his surroundings and at the knight before him; du Bois was a colossal knight that looked like a barbarian with his untamed black hair and dark beard, but he had the most brilliant blue eyes that Edward had ever seen. And he could see, quite clearly, that the man was absolutely dedicated to the lady. He could just see it in his expression, his manners; everything about him. Edward was secretly glad; he would have killed the man had he been anything other than utterly devoted to her. Any resistance in agreeing to rescue her would have resulted in death.
Radcliffe felt much better about the situation as he followed Rhys into the keep. Perhaps now there was truly some hope.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was quiet towards the late afternoon around Lioncross. With Christopher at his wife’s side and their children with them, most of the earl’s men were taking a brief moment of respite before the battle looming in the very future.
In the meanwhile, de Braose’s five hundred men had arrived before noon and were situated in the enormous bailey. Rhys had left with Radcliffe a few hours before, riding hard for Ludlow Castle with a beautiful missive scribed by de Wolfe. Conrad and his men, being strangers in a strange land, had segregated themselves away from the English and congregated in the solar to make their own preparations for the coming battle.
While his men rolled a pair of die and gambled in a game of chance, Conrad sat near the lancet window that overlooked the bailey and so many English troops, contemplating his future. He had made his offer to du Bois and de Lohr but had not received the response he was looking for. He was deeply concerned that his offer would be refused and he would be forced to marry Lady Elizabeau. The earl and du Bois seemed more focused on their duty than anything else, a quality that Conrad admired but one that he found frustratingly unbending. As the days passed, the more he wanted to marry Carys and return to Saxony to live out his life of wealth and privilege. He did not want to marry a woman he had never seen, one who would give him the throne of England. He didn’t care about the throne. He only cared for Carys.
Conrad was gazing from the window with his increasingly morose thoughts when he caught sight of one of de Lohr’s knights riding from the stables. He recognized him as he rode towards the gates, only donning his helm as he passed through the great portcullis. Then he watched the man dig his spurs into his charger and thunder off into the snowy twilight. The knight seemed to be in a terrible hurry.
Conrad turned to his faithful men, men who had followed him a thousand miles and faced a thousand perils on his behalf. They were closer than his family and the more they spent time in this foreign land, the more closely they all bonded with each other. They were, in essence, their own little sovereignty in this violent English land.
“Where do you suppose de Lohr’s knight is going?” he asked in his Germanic tongue, to anyone who would listen. “We ride to free the princess tomorrow. Do you suppose he has gone to scout Ludlow?”
One of his generals, the short man with the bushy mustache named Eeric, answered his question.
“We were not aware of any such plans,” he replied. “The earl has made sure to inform you of every step he takes.”
Conrad frowned. “But he sends a man to scout and does not inform me? I do not think I like it.”
Eeric put down the tankard of ale in his hand and stood up. “What would you have me do, my lord? Shall I confront de Lohr with this offense?”
Conrad scratched at his scalp, his temper cooling after a moment. Now they were simply going through the motion of things, the rescue of a woman he did not want to marry but that Rhys du Bois wanted very much. It wasn’t the fact that de Lohr sent out a scout and did not tell him; it was the principal of the situation. The earl should inform him of every step in his process to retrieve the princess. He didn’t want to find himself somehow betrayed.