Page 21 of Insurrection (Guard of Six #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

T hey’d run the entire way.

Kent and Bennet reached The Narth just as the gates were closing for the night. There was a good deal of activity all around, with the de Russe men manning the gatehouse once again. Kent stopped the first sergeant he came across and asked where the prisoner had been taken.

The man pointed down to the ground.

The vault.

Leaving Bennet to head toward the keep, Kent made his way down the narrow, slick stairs that led into the vault. There was only one cell, in fact, and there was no door on it, so four soldiers stood at the base of the stairs to prevent Ivor from trying to leave. He ordered the soldiers to go back up the stairs and guard the entry, which they reluctantly did. No one disobeyed a knight, most especially not one of Henry’s guard, so the soldiers made their way back up the stairs as Kent moved toward the lone cell.

Ivor was sitting in a pile of dirty straw, his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. It was dark in the cell because the only sources of light were two feeble torches jammed into iron sconces near the stairs. It also smelled horrifically, as if animals had been living down there. Kent noticed that Ivor’s wrists were bound, something he intended to remedy, but first he had to establish some trust.

There was only one way he could think to do it.

“Hen Gastell,” he said quietly.

Ivor stirred. His head remained in his hands, his knees still drawn up, but gradually, he lifted his head, his features twisted in confusion.

“What did you say?” he asked.

Kent crouched down a few feet away from him. “Hen Gastell,” he said. “Do those words mean anything to you?”

Ivor wasn’t in the mood for riddles. He simply put his face back in his hands. Kent could see that he wasn’t going to get any answer out of the man.

Not that he blamed him.

It had been a hell of a night.

“Do you remember an English lad who saved you from drowning in the river?” Kent said. “A young lad who told you not to cross the water, but you did it anyway and fell in?”

Ivor didn’t move for a moment. Then his head came up slowly, his face no longer contorted in confusion. But there was surprise. Kent could see that he had the man’s attention, so he continued.

“ Summer days and summer stars, and a deep blue sea that glistens like silver, ” he sang softly. “We used to sing that song as we played at the Hen Gastell until I went off to foster. Do you remember now?”

Ivor looked at him, eyes wide. “Kent?”

“It has been a long time, Ivor.”

When Ivor realized who it was, he began to get emotional. “My God,” he breathed. “Is it really you?”

Kent pulled a small dagger out from his waistband and leaned forward, cutting the bindings around Ivor’s wrists. “It is me,” he said. “I was introduced to you at The Bryn’s cottage as Trevyn d’Einen. You did not recognize me and, honestly, had you not been introduced as Ivor ap Yestin, I would not have recognized you, either. We’ve both grown considerably in the last thirty years.”

As soon as Kent cut the bindings, Ivor grabbed the man’s hand, looking at him in amazement. “Kent,” he gasped. “Nay, I would not have recognized you, but now that I look in your eyes, I can see that boy. It really is you!”

Kent smiled. “Aye, it really is,” he said. “Ivor, I am sorry this happened. Please know I had no part in it. A knight named de Russe blames you for the attack on his sister. Did you know that?”

Ivor didn’t let go of his hand, but he nodded. “Aye,” he said. “The same knight who sacked The Narth. He came to me with that story about his sister and insisted I was responsible for her attack or was protecting the men who were.”

“Are you? And were you?”

Ivor didn’t hesitate. “Nay,” he said. “I know nothing about it in spite of the evidence de Russe supposedly has. It was not me or my men, Kent. I swear that upon all that is holy.”

“I believe you,” Kent said. “Something about this situation just doesn’t seem right, but de Russe is convinced the Welsh perpetrated the attack.”

“So he has told me.”

“He intends to punish you for it,” Kent said. “He intends to make an example out of you.”

Ivor sighed heavily and let go of Kent’s hand. “Then he punishes an innocent man,” he said. “Do you know where the man who was with me is? His name is Dai. He was wounded in the skirmish.”

Kent shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “But I shall find out.”

Ivor had to be satisfied with that for now. He was a little overwhelmed at seeing his old friend, who had grown into an enormous man of great power. Clearly a man who had seen, and experienced, much in life, and there was an inherent curiosity about that. Ivor would have been absolutely overjoyed to discuss old times if this had been any other situation, but somehow, it didn’t seem right. Still, he couldn’t help himself.

He wanted to know.

“You have my thanks,” he said sincerely. “Tell me, lad, how have your parents been? Your father? I heard that he is the Earl of Talgarth now. Is he still angry with me for dragging you out to play at the old castle those years ago?”

Kent grinned. “Probably,” he said. “My father can hold a grudge longer than anyone. But he is well, as is my mother. Thank you for asking.”

“That is good to hear.”

“And you? You have been well all these years?”

Ivor nodded, leaning his head back against the cell wall. “I have,” he said. He gestured to Kent, in full protection, and smiled. “I suspect I’ve not had your adventures, but it has been a good life.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“Have you married?”

Kent shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But… there is a special woman for me. I’ve simply not asked her to be my wife yet. And you?”

Kent asked the question knowing full well what the answer was, but he wanted to hear it for himself. He wanted to see if Madelaina’s take on the attraction between her and Ivor was as casual as she made it sound or if they were madly in love and she hadn’t been truthful.

He was curious about Ivor’s answer.

“I’ve not married,” Ivor said, shrugging as he averted his gaze. “No time. It seems I’m married to Wales, to protect her against the Saesneg as a husband would protect a wife. But I’ve clearly done a very poor job if I am in here.”

“This was not your fault,” Kent said. “But you should have remained at Pentwyn. It is safer for you there.”

Ivor looked at him. “You know of Pentwyn?”

Kent nodded. “It seems to be common knowledge in the village, and you know that servants are willing to talk for the right price,” he said. “Why did you come back?”

“To see what the English had done to my castle,” Ivor said. Then he looked at the man, his shoulders, his arms, and finally his hands. He pointed to them. “Did you truly burn your hand, Kent?”

It took Kent a moment to realize what he was talking about. Ivor was referring to the excuse Madelaina had given him about Kent’s presence at her home. Kent didn’t hesitate to hold up his hands so that Ivor could see that they were perfectly fine.

“Nay,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I was at the apothecary’s shop to sup with The Bryn and his daughter, but she must have thought I was in danger with you there. She lied about my identity and the situation, but I am certain she did it to protect me.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she did not want any violence, I suppose.”

Ivor considered that, possibly accepting it. For now. “Why were you there?” he asked.

The way he asked it tipped Kent off that it was more than just a normal inquiry. It was a territorial inquiry because, in Ivor’s mind, Madelaina was his territory.

Kent was careful in his answer.

“I was there to gather information on you,” Kent said. “We were told that The Bryn was one of your advisors.”

“That is all?”

“What more would there be?”

“A pretty lass, mayhap?”

“She is very pretty,” Kent agreed. “But I was there for information at that time. Nothing more.”

Ivor seemed to accept the information because he really didn’t have a reason to doubt him at this point. “’Tis your duty, I suppose,” he said. “Did de Russe ask you to find me?”

“Nay,” Kent said. “I do not serve de Russe. I serve the king as one of his personal guard.”

That seemed to impress Ivor, steering him away from the rather touchy subject of Madelaina. “Truly?” he said. “One of the king’s men? You were destined for great things, my friend. I am proud to hear that.”

Kent nodded his thanks, vaguely, but his manner seemed to be growing edgy. “Ivor, I do not mean to be rude, but there is much at stake here for you,” he said. “You are in a dangerous situation.”

Ivor sighed faintly, looking around the dingy cell. “I realize that,” he said. “Did you come to help me escape?”

That was a good question. Kent believed in Ivor’s innocence, but allowing the man to escape from custody was a tricky matter. He stood up, hands on his hips as he gazed down at the Welsh prisoner.

“Let me see what de Russe intends,” he said. “The problem is that there are about one hundred de Russe men in the gatehouse, all of whom will see if I remove you from the vault, so you must be patient. I swore to you once that I would never take up a sword against you, and I meant it. But preventing a man from punishing his prisoner is something that could haunt me for the rest of my career, so let me discover what de Russe’s intentions are and plan from there.”

Ivor nodded, though he seemed disappointed. “I understand,” he said. “And I swore to you once that I would never take up arms against you, either. But I did not make that vow to any other English fool.”

Kent cocked an eyebrow. “Ivor, if you attempt to escape, they will kill you,” he said flatly. “For now, you must remain here and remain compliant. Will you do that for me, please? I cannot help you if you are dead.”

Ivor wasn’t pleased with the situation, but he understood. With a nod, he settled back into the dirty straw.

“This is not an ideal situation, but I will say that I am glad to see you, Kent,” he said. “I hope we have the opportunity to speak again, and on things other than de Russe’s vendetta.”

Kent smiled weakly. “I hope so, too,” he said. “I thought about you over the years and wondered how you fared.”

Ivor snorted sarcastically. “I have fared so well that I am now in my own dungeon,” he said, slapping at the straw. “There is some irony in that.”

“Indeed,” Kent said. Then he held up a hand to the man, a gesture that suggested he simply sit there for now. “Be patient. I will return.”

Ivor nodded, but Kent could see the hope in the man’s eyes. Hope that an old friend might actually help him.

But Kent wasn’t so sure he could.

God help him, he just wasn’t.