Page 12 of Insurrection (Guard of Six #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“K ent, I don’t like it,” Torran said. “If The Bryn knows ap Yestin so well, at some point, I fear your identity will come into question. You’ve painted yourself a spy for ap Yestin, but there are too many variables to this. I’m not sure it is a good idea to become so friendly with The Bryn like this.”

It would be sundown in about an hour. The flowers Kent had purchased for Madelaina were lying in a trough of water in the bailey until he was ready to depart for the village, but he was receiving some opposition from Torran when he told him of his supper plans.

It was surprising.

“I thought you would agree with this,” he said, frowning. “We are trying to discover what we can about ap Yestin’s movements. Who better to glean information from than his advisor?”

Torran wasn’t particularly moved by the argument. “You are a personal guard to the king of England,” he said. “You are not a spy. If you wanted to be a spy, then you should have joined the Executioner Knights.”

Kent cocked a dark eyebrow. “My grandfather served under William Marshal and was an Executioner Knight,” he said. “I am a de Poyer. It is in our blood.”

But Torran shook his head. “Talking to The Bryn was one thing,” he said. “Now you intend to sup with the man and his family? You cannot get too familiar with them or your lies may be more easily discovered. That is what I’m concerned with.”

“I understand,” Kent said patiently. “But I am already committed to this. Let me sup with the family tonight and find out what I can. I will not do it again.”

Torran was going to have to be content with that. It was a good opportunity for them to gain some much-needed intelligence, but he was genuinely concerned for Kent’s safety.

“I simply do not want you to get in too deep and risk yourself,” he said. “Henry will have my head if something happens to you.”

Kent gave him a lopsided smile. “Is that all you care about?” he said. “Your head?”

“Aye.”

Kent burst into soft laughter. It was just him and Torran in the big entry chamber because everyone else had duties to attend to. Jareth was in the chamber right next to the door, listening to the conversation because the door was open, but he was going over some dispatches that had been left behind when the Welsh fled. He’d been trying to make sense out of them all afternoon, but Kent and Torran’s conversation had him distracted.

“To be perfectly honest, we should not even be in this position,” he called out to them. “The Treaty of Montgomery that was signed a few years ago by both Henry and Llewelyn ap Gruffudd gives this ap Gruffudd his preferred Welsh lands and gives this territory to the marcher lords. This territory technically belongs to de Lohr and de Clare and de Russe. It may even belong to de Valence of Pembroke. But it does not belong to Ivor ap Yestin, no matter what he thinks. The only reason English haven’t taken over this place before now is because no one cares about a little village in a little vale on the marches.”

Kent and Torran wandered over to the open chamber door. “I am well aware,” Kent said. “Do not forget how close Tyr Castle is to this property. Technically, I suppose the de Poyer family has some power over these lands also, but my father has never exercised that. He has a good relationship with the Welsh and considering his primary holding is in the Dovey Valley, dead center in Llewelyn ap Gruffudd’s lands—”

Jareth interrupted. “The lands Henry gave to him through the treaty.”

“Exactly,” Kent said, pointing a finger at him. “Right in the middle of Wales sits an enormous, English-owned castle. Therefore, my father is not going to cause trouble by trying to claim ap Yestin lands. To do so would be to cause unimaginable trouble with his Nether Castle holding.”

“Is that why you’ve not sent word to your father yet?”

Kent nodded, leaning against the doorjamb. “He cannot do anything, nor will he,” he said quietly. “My father walks a very fine line with the Welsh. Whatever Henry wants done with The Narth, my father will stay out of it.”

Standing next to him, Torran sighed heavily. “I assumed as much,” he said. “You did not seem eager to contact him.”

“Not for this. Surely Henry must understand that.”

Torran stood there for a moment, mulling over the difficult situation the House of de Poyer found themselves in. But that brought him to another concern, one that was increasingly problematic to even consider. Kent had grown up here. He’d already admitted to being a childhood friend of Ivor ap Yestin. Now he was telling them that in the battle for The Narth, the House of de Poyer would not fight. Kent’s grandmother was a Welsh noblewoman, his mother was half Welsh, and he had been raised with the Welsh language before he even knew the more popularly spoken language of Henry’s court. But even more concerning than all that was the name of Kent’s sword.

Insurrection.

Torran couldn’t genuinely believe Kent would ever raise a sword against them, but he was coming to wonder if the man’s loyalties were not so clear cut. Having Kent side with his old friend, or with the Welsh in general, would be an insurrection, indeed.

Every Guard of Six had a sword with a name. That was something that bound them together, like a secret oath or vow. Each man named his sword something that was important to him. Torran, a former priest, named his sword Absolution . Jareth’s was Obliteration . Aidric’s was Retribution and Dirk’s was Destruction . Finally, Britt’s was Annihilation . All of these titles were fitting for the men who had chosen them, but Kent’s was most curious. That had never struck Torran as odd until now. He’d always assumed that Kent had given his sword such a moniker because he would fight insurrection wherever he found it, as a knight sworn to Henry.

But maybe it meant something else.

He wondered.

“Jareth,” Torran said after a moment, “why not go with Kent to this supper with The Bryn? You understand Welsh. You can pose as another devotee of ap Yestin’s.”

Kent looked at him. “I told The Bryn I worked alone,” he said. “How will it look if I come to supper with a man and tell him he is also sworn to ap Yestin? I am having a difficult enough time convincing The Bryn to trust me. Jareth will not help things.”

“He’s probably right,” Jareth said. “I will go and hide outside, to keep an eye on the cottage in case Kent needs assistance, but I should not go in.”

Torran nodded. “I will be satisfied with that,” he said. “Something does not feel right with this, so I would be at ease knowing you were watching Kent’s meeting place. At least you will see if anyone is coming or going, and if Kent requires help…”

“I will be there to give it.”

Both Torran and Jareth looked at Kent at that point, who simply shrugged. “As long as he remains out of sight,” he said. “I do not want anything breaking this fragile trust I have earned so far.”

“Understood,” Jareth said. “I will keep to the shadows.”

“If I need you, I will shout. Keep your ears open.”

“I will.”

“Good,” Torran said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Now, let us speak of what Jareth has been doing all afternoon. Jareth, is there anything in any of the Welsh communications that Kent should be armed with? Anything only a Welshman would know?”

Jareth looked at the missives. It was a small room, smelling of smoke and rot, and it had the odd feature of a very large table in the middle of it. The vellums were neatly arranged now, but it had taken Jareth hours to do so. Like everything else at The Narth, the small solar had been in complete disarray when the English took possession.

He picked up the nearest missive.

“Nothing that seems terribly important,” he said. “I—”

He was cut off when the entry door swung open and Treyton appeared. His searching gaze immediately found Torran, and he pointed to the bailey.

“Your comrades have arrived,” he said.

Puzzled, Torran and Kent and Jareth went to the door only to see the other half of the Six approaching, three heavily armed knights trudging through the bailey as the veil of night descended. Aidric lifted a long arm to wave at them, and he was flanked by Dirk and Britt.

Torran threw up his hands in confusion.

“What are you three doing here?” he shouted to them. “Henry wanted to keep you with him.”

They drew closer, and Aidric shouted in return. “We couldn’t be kept away from you,” he jested. “Are you not glad to see us?”

“Quickly,” Kent said to Torran. “Shut the door.”

The three approaching knights laughed and, of course, the door was not shut. They were greeted by their colleagues, practically shoving Treyton out of the way, and he returned to the gatehouse because it was his post. The Guard of Six was together once again, and he was not part of that.

“Tell me,” Torran said to them. “Why did Henry release you?”

“Because,” Aidric said, hand on his weapon, “if you are going to get in a knife fight with the Welsh, he wanted to send his finest swords. He made that decision the day after you left, and here we are. Is there going to be a fight?”

Torran pulled them inside, shutting the door behind them. “Not at this time,” he said. “Come in and sit by the fire. I’ll tell you what we know, which is different from what Henry told us.”

The men began pulling off cloaks and gloves. “I noticed de Russe is still here,” Britt said. He was the volatile one of the group, highly intelligent but also highly emotional at times. “You did not send him and his army home?”

Torran waggled his eyebrows. “It is not as simple as that,” he said. “De Russe laying siege to The Narth was out of revenge.”

“For what?”

“For Welsh from The Narth attacking a de Russe daughter and gravely injuring her,” Torran said, looking at the three of them. “I have decided to let them remain for now because this is most definitely their fight. It complicates an already complicated situation.”

Britt and Aidric frowned, looking at each other in concern, as Dirk spoke. “Then the son had nothing to do with this?” he said in a deep voice with a slight lisp. The lisp, in fact, was why he was usually so silent in the presence of others. “No foolish actions on his part?”

“None at all,” Torran said. “That means they took The Narth to punish the Welsh for making an invalid out of a de Russe daughter. Poor lass was betrothed to a son of Wellesbourne. Treyton seems quite heartbroken over it.”

“Then their presence here was vengeance,” Aidric said.

“It was.”

That settled on the newcomers. That had not been something they expected, much as Torran and Kent and Jareth hadn’t expected such news upon their arrival. They’d been expecting a battle with de Russe and had found something quite different but no less concerning. Torran was right—it complicated an already complex situation.

In fact, it made it worse.

“What now, then?” Aidric asked. “Will you inform Henry of the circumstances?”

“I already have,” Jareth said. “I sent a missive out this afternoon explaining what we found when we arrived and the fact that we are allowing de Russe to remain until we receive further instructions. But my question is this—if the six of us are here, on the marches, who is guarding Henry?”

Aidric waved him off. “A dozen younger knights who are part of the royal household,” he said. “You know that group.”

“The one led by de Reyne?” Jareth said.

“The same.”

“He’ll be the next Lord Protector, you know,” Jareth said confidently. “Now that Patrick de Wolfe has declined the position.”

Torran spoke. “Henry has his Six, but for some reason, he also needs a personal bodyguard,” he said. “Patrick de Wolfe would have been an astonishingly good addition as Lord Protector, but as I understand it, he married and wanted to remain in the north with his family. I heard that his wife is the daughter of a Northman king.”

“That is one way to make an alliance,” Jareth said. “I’m sure that will end all Northman attacks against de Wolfe properties for some time to come. That was very wise of de Wolfe.”

“Indeed,” Torran said. “But mark my words—Thor de Reyne will be the next Lord Protector. And he has earned it.”

The group nodded. They all knew Thor de Reyne, from another powerful family in the north, but this family had ties to Aragon pirates and other powerful undesirables, which made de Reyne a perfect man to be at Henry’s side as his personal bodyguard. If Henry needed unsavory support or something more underhanded than what the Six were willing to accomplish, one word to de Reyne and great Aragon mercenaries would do the deed.

It made for interesting dynamics.

“Speaking of earning things,” Kent spoke up, “I am preparing to depart to sup with a man who is an advisor to Ivor ap Yestin, the very man this castle was taken from. As much as I would like to remain and sup with all of you, I feel it is more important to glean information from The Bryn.”

“The Bryn?” Aidric repeated, looking at Torran and Kent in confusion. “What is that?”

“ Who is that,” Kent clarified, going on the hunt for his cloak. “He is the town apothecary. Jareth was coming to stay to the shadows and watch the cottage to warn me of any approaching danger.”

“I’ll go,” Britt said. When his five comrades looked at him curiously, he simply shrugged. “I, too, grew up on the marches, lest you forget, and I can speak Welsh as well as Kent can. Besides… I’m a better spy than Jareth.”

Jareth rolled his eyes. “You are one step above an Executioner Knight,” he said. “And I think you are the only one of us that is Blackchurch trained.”

“Bennet is Blackchurch trained also,” Torran said. “You all know Ben de Bermingham. One of the other knights we brought with us in addition to Orion Payton-Forrester.”

“Ah,” Dirk said, shaking his head in disgust. “Payton-Forrester. I nearly came to blows with him once. How did he behave on the journey here?”

“Like an arrogant arse,” Kent said. “Forget about him. He and Bennet are seeing to the grounds and manning the walls while the rest of us do the real work.”

That had Dirk snorting. “He must hate every minute of that,” he said. “Imagine Payton-Forrester commanding the bailey like a common sergeant.”

The thought of an arrogant knight being reduced to mundane tasks brought a few grins all around. Kent swung his cloak over his shoulders as Britt also prepared to depart, but Kent turned to Torran as he secured his cloak around his neck.

“Something has occurred to me,” he said.

“What is that?” Torran said.

Kent sighed faintly, glancing at Britt. “No one in this group, me included, has ever seen Ivor ap Yestin,” he said. “At least, not as an adult. I could identify the child, but not the man. Britt could watch the cottage, but how would he know if Ivor somehow approached and made his way inside? He could not warn me if he does not know the man on sight.”

Torran scratched his chin. “True,” he said. “The only one who might have seen him is Treyton. Do you want him to go with you?”

“It may be wise.”

“Ask him.”

Kent did. Heading out of the gatehouse with Britt, he discovered that Treyton had, indeed, seen Ivor ap Yestin and a few of his men when they first arrived at The Narth. He’d seen him a second time when they attempted to negotiate a surrender. Therefore, he knew what the man looked like and was more than happy to act as a lookout.

In short order, Treyton joined the duo heading into the village.