Gareth had grown up on the Marches in a castle about twenty miles to the north, so he knew the area better than Kevin did. His father had cemented a strong rule amongst the Welsh even though he was English, and the Welsh respected him. But that relationship had taken a long time. Originally, his father had come to the Welsh Marches to kill and conquer. It had been a time in Bretton de Llion’s life when he had been one of the more brutal warlords in England. But that had ended when he’d married Gareth’s mother and he’d spent the past thirty years cultivating a strong relationship with his allies.
That was exactly what Kevin needed to do.
Gareth knew that, more than most. But he also knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. Desperation had caused Kevin to hold fast to Gethin ap Garreg’s daughter even as the man lay dead in the vault. Gareth understood the desperation and although he didn’t disagree with Kevin’s actions, taking a woman and her father hostage wasn’t going to be particularly endearing to the locals.
If Kevin wanted to build bridges, then he was going to have to use better tactics.
Gareth had stewed on that thought all day and into the night, sleeping on a lumpy bed in the inn while the smith he’d come with, an Englishman named Noode, remained down in the common room because the man liked to drink. When Gareth awoke before dawn, he found Noode sleeping on one of the tables downstairs.
Rousing the man, he ordered some food and drink from the tavern keeper, who was preparing for the day to come. Bread, cheese, and buttered ale arrived, and the ale was heavy, sweet, and very buttery. Gareth didn’t much like it, but he drank it to wash down the bread and cheese. By that time, they were ready to go to the man who would supply them with the slag the smithy needed. Crossing the avenue just as the sun rose, they were nearing the scrap dealer’s stall when Gareth heard his name.
“De Llion!”
Gareth turned sharply to see Peter de Lohr heading in his direction.
And he wasn’t alone.
As the sun rose over the village of Pool, Gareth saw several men he recognized behind Peter, not the least of which were two very powerful warlords – Sean de Lara and Alexander de Sherrington. He also saw young William de Wolfe, a squire as heavily armored as the knights. He was puzzled to see the young man, but more than that, he was puzzled to see Sean and Alexander. He let the smithy go on ahead to the slag dealer while he went to greet the incoming tide of English.
“This is a surprise,” he said truthfully. “What are you doing here?”
Peter grinned. He was big and blond, like all of the de Lohr men, and had a more congenial personality than most of the Executioner Knights. He was still young, however, and although he’d seen plenty of battle, he hadn’t yet learned to harden himself the way men sometimes did with age and experience. He was still ready to smile, ready to carry on a conversation.
He still wore his heart on his sleeve.
“My father sent us to see how Kevin was faring,” he said, throwing his thumb back at Sean, who was riding up on his big, red steed. “Lord de Lara was heading north to visit his brother, anyway, but my father sent Sherry and me along.”
“Oh?” Gareth said curiously. “Why?”
Sean was close enough that he heard the question. “Because we know something my brother may wish to also know,” he said as quietly as he could. Then, he started looking around. “Where is my brother, Gareth?”
Sean’s words had Gareth’s concern rising. “At Wybren, my lord,” he said. Being a newer member of the Executioner Knights, he still addressed the senior members formally, and most especially an earl. “He is settling in admirably as Lord of the Sky. All has been peaceful here.”
Sean nodded as if he didn’t quite believe him, looking around the town that was just coming alive at this time in the morning. He studied the layout, the people, before replying.
“That is good to know,” he said. “Why are you in town this morning?”
Gareth pointed towards the slag merchant. “I brought the smithy for raw materials,” he said. “We will purchase them and then we shall depart. It should take no longer than a few minutes if you can wait.”
Sean nodded, eyeing The Silver Fish. “We’ll wait,” he said. “We’ll have something to eat while you take care of your business, but do not delay. I intend to make it to Wybren before the nooning hour.”
“Aye, my lord,” Gareth said.
Sean seemed to have a sense of urgency about him. As Sean and Alexander headed over to The Silver Fish, Gareth turned for the slag merchant but he’d picked up a couple of tails. Peter and William were following him.
“What’s this all about, Peter?” Gareth asked quietly. “Lord de Lara seems… tense. What has happened?”
Peter dismounted his horse and William did the same, walking next to Gareth as the man marched along.
“Rumblings, mostly,” Peter said, keeping his voice low. “My father has been hearing things and he relayed them to Sean.”
“What is he hearing?”
“Have you ever heard of Phylip ap Bedo?”
Gareth thought on that. “I do not believe so,” he said. “Why? Who is he?”
“He is one of my father’s Welsh neighbors,” Peter said. “They are not allies, but they are not exactly enemies. My father tolerates him and he tolerates my father. But my father has a spy in ap Bedo’s ranks and, evidently, they have been speaking about Wybren and Kevin. Purely by coincidence, Sean was on his way north from Bath to see how Kevin was faring with his new command and my father told Sean what he had heard. Now, Sean wants to speak to Kevin about it.”
Gareth didn’t like the sound of that. He looked at Peter. “Is it bad?”
Peter lifted his eyebrows. “I am not certain.”
Gareth didn’t ask any further questions. He made it to the slag merchant’s stall and hurried the man along as quickly as he could, having it all loaded into a wagon they’d brought from Wybren the day before. He paid the merchant well and within the hour, Gareth, Sean, Peter, Alexander, William, and about eight hundred de Lohr soldiers were making their way north to Wybren Castle.
“This is a hell of a place, Kevin.”
The words came from Sean as he dismounted his frothing steed in the inner bailey of Wybren Castle. Kevin was vastly surprised to see his brother, though not displeased. He was, however, curious.
“More than you know,” he said, his gaze drifting over his brother who had recovered quite nicely from his brush with death a couple of years ago. “It is quite agreeable to see you again, Sean. You are looking well. How is Dani?”
Sean smiled at the mention of his wife. “Angry because I would not bring her with me,” he said. “She wanted to come and see your new castle. Truthfully, I think she wanted to get away from screaming children. The twins have reached an age where they are quite a challenge.”
Kevin grinned. “Terrors, are they?”
Sean snorted. “That is putting it mildly,” he said. “They are not quite two years of age and smarter than I am. Everything is new and wonderful to them, but they want everything they see and God help us all if Dani denies them – they scream louder than banshees. I had to come north to see you simply to gain some peace.”