Page 3 of Insurrection (Guard of Six #2)

CHAPTER TWO

Westminster Palace

“I t is infuriating . Gaspard de Russe has evidently laid siege to the castle, chased the Welsh into the mountains, and now he claims this castle. The man has started a war!”

The royal solar of Westminster Palace had heard much worse shouting over the years. Kings tended to be excitable creatures, by habit and by trade, so the old stone walls had learned to absorb the volume and the anger. In this case, it was coming from a man of average stature and a head of hair that had turned gray long ago. A man who had been king since he’d been nine years of age and, truthfully, never knew anything else. He was England and England was him, the two of them blended into one creature that lived and breathed, rejoiced and wept.

Henry, King of England, had a problem.

“Is that what my father said, your grace?” Kent asked. “He is the one who sent you the information?”

Henry was frowning and had been ever since he read the missive from Caledon de Poyer. It had come for Kent but Henry, as he often did, read it first because he assumed any information from the Earl of Talgarth, a title that he himself had bestowed upon Caledon’s father, would be meant for him as well. That meant he was the first one to get the bad news on a very volatile section of the Welsh marches.

“Aye,” Henry replied. He pointed to the opened vellum, lying on a table a few feet away. “You can read for yourself. Evidently, de Russe, who is an extremely unpredictable man himself, was forced to take up arms when his son got into a skirmish with a local Welsh warlord. I can only imagine what happened, since the House of de Russe from Clearwell Castle is, and always has been, ready to go to war against any infraction, no matter how small.”

Kent was already over at the table, picking up the vellum and reading his father’s careful handwriting. Caledon liked to write his missives himself to keep private information from spreading, and Kent was barely halfway through the message but could see what had the king so enraged.

“Treyton,” he muttered, then spoke louder. “I know Treyton de Russe, my lord. We were not only neighbors, but we briefly fostered together.”

Henry waved him off. “I know Treyton as well,” he said, snapping his fingers at the nearest servant as a demand for wine. “The man is enormous and strong and a fine knight, but he thinks every man in England and Wales and Scotland is out to challenge him. I have no idea what happened with this Welsh warlord, but I am not surprised. The problem is that Gaspard took his army into Wales and expelled the Welsh from a castle that has historically been extremely unstable. The Welsh are going to want it back.”

Kent had been watching the king, listening to his concern, before returning his attention to the missive. When he got to the bottom of the message, he was able to discover the Welsh castle in question.

The Narth.

Startled, he must have made a sound because Torran, a few feet away, looked at him with concern. “What?” he asked. “What is it?”

Kent struggled to overcome his surprise, handing the missive over to Torran so the man could read of the situation. “The castle that has been sacked,” he said. “I’ve not heard that name in many years.”

Henry, cup of wine in hand, heard him. “You know this place?” he asked.

Kent nodded as he turned to him. “I do, your grace,” he said. “At least, I used to. Very long ago.”

“What about it?”

Kent simply shrugged. “When I was a child, I knew the son of the warlord of The Narth,” he said. “Believe it or not, he was my playmate before I was sent to foster. How strange… Only today I remembered a song from my youth, a song that my friend would sing. How very strange I would think of that just as my father sent this missive.”

Henry took a big gulp of wine. “Kent, how much do you keep up with the current situation on the marches where your father’s property is?”

“As much as anyone else, I suppose,” Kent said. “I’ve not been home in a few years and my father only sends me missives as he sees fit.”

Henry regarded him a moment. “Your father still has not forgiven you for not returning home to assume your rightful place beside him, has he?”

Kent smiled weakly. “I am his heir, your grace,” he said. “Of course he wants me home. He wants me to know the land, the people, that I will one day preside over. I will return someday, of course, but not now. Serving you has been more fulfilling, I think.”

Henry grunted. “As if I would release you to your father,” he said. “You have four brothers, all of them still at Nether Castle, I think.”

Kent nodded. “My brother, Henry, has command of Tyr Castle, our outpost on the marches,” he said. “It is usually commanded by the heir, but clearly, I am not there. However, my father and my other brothers are, indeed, at Nether Castle.”

“Henry, Clarke, Everett, and… and…”

“Owen, your grace.”

“Owen,” Henry repeated, reminded of the one he forgot. But he wagged his finger at Kent. “I will lure that one into my service. I seem to remember a beastly lad with blond hair and black eyes.”

“Owen is a big man, your grace,” Kent said. “Taller than I am, and that is saying something.”

Henry chuckled, clearly calming down from his earlier tirade. But he noticed Torran setting the vellum to the table again and that reminded him why he’d been so angry.

“I do not know what skirmish young de Russe entered into, but his father should not have been so hasty in laying siege to a Welsh castle,” he said. “And especially not that castle.”

Kent looked at the man, knowing he probably wouldn’t like the answer to his next question. “Why not, your grace?”

Henry turned back to his wine. “You should know the area,” he said. “That is where your family’s home is.”

“I know the area, your grace, and I know The Narth,” Kent said. “But I was very young when last I had any contact with anyone from The Narth, or heard anything about it, truthfully. But, clearly, you are concerned with it.”

Henry grunted unhappily. “Concerned, indeed,” he said. “The warlord that rules The Narth these days has gone deep to his family’s roots and has brought forth all of the legends about true Welsh blood and Welsh pride. His family is descended from the rulers of Elfael, a small kingdom that eventually became part of Gwent when his grandmother, many times over, married into the Gwent royal family. Oddly enough, he seems to make more war on fellow Welsh than the English, which is good for your father considering how close The Narth is to Tyr Castle. But Ivor ap Yestin is a powerful man with a good deal of sway along the marches, much more than his father ever had, and now he has been driven out of The Narth by de Russe. That means his focus will turn toward the English now, and that is what your father is worried about. With The Narth so close to Tyr, he is afraid that Tyr will now be attacked by angry Welsh.”

Ivor ap Yestin.

Kent closed his eyes, briefly, as he heard that name. He hadn’t heard it in years. He hadn’t thought of the man in years. It was simply something that never came up in conversation with his father, not even on those occasions when he’d come home to visit. It simply wasn’t part of their daily lives. Kent had his life to live and Ivor had evidently had his, and the two never crossed, not since those days of their youth. As Henry said, Ivor’s attention had evidently been focused on other Welsh, and that realization brought something to mind that Ivor had said to him once, long ago.

I’ll make sure all of my people know we don’t fight the English from Try or Nether .

My God… Did he actually mean it? Even after all these years?

But something in the pit of his stomach told him that that was about to change.

“Your grace, I must be perfectly honest with you,” he said, watching Henry accept more wine from a servant. “When I was four years of age, Ivor ap Yestin got lost on our lands and my father’s men brought him to Tyr. Ivor and I became fast friends and continued to play together, in the hills of the marches, until I was sent off to Arundel. I’ve not seen him since, nor spoken to him, but I did know him as a child. He was my best friend.”

Henry looked at him with interest. “Your father made no mention of that.”

Kent shrugged. “It was possible he forgot,” he said. “Or he did not think it relevant.”

Henry didn’t share that opinion. “It could be quite relevant,” he said. “Your father is asking for help. He wants de Russe removed from The Narth and a royal occupation force to take control. He does not ask to have The Narth returned to ap Yestin.”

Kent knew that. “Probably because with de Russe holding The Narth, that will bring half of Wales down on the castle, and when de Russe calls for reinforcements, my father will be obliged to respond.”

“And that puts him at war with the Welsh.”

“Exactly, your grace,” Kent said. “My grandmother was Welsh. We have always enjoyed a peaceful existence with them for the most part. And I do not want to find myself in a war because Treyton de Russe acted like a fool and pulled the southern Welsh marches into his actions.”

Henry couldn’t disagree. “Idiot,” he muttered. “I do not know what the circumstances are and I do not care, but I agree with you. And your father. Kent, if I send you to the Welsh marches to negotiate peace with Ivor ap Yestin, will you go? If the two of you were friends, mayhap ap Yestin will be more apt to remain calm.”

“And give him back The Narth, your grace?”

Henry hesitated. “The Narth is an enormous castle of great strategic advantage,” he said. “Although I do not agree with de Russe’s tactics, the fact remains that we now control The Narth, and that means we control a portion of South Wales. I am not entirely sure I want to lose that advantage.”

Kent could see trouble brewing. Henry was angry with de Russe, that was true, but now that he had The Narth, he wasn’t sure he wanted to give it up. But the Welsh would want it back.

Ivor would want it back.

That put Tyr Castle in the line of fire should a border war erupt.

Damn…

“Why not send Chris de Lohr to negotiate with ap Yestin, your grace?” he asked. “He and his family control most of the Welsh marches. If you want to keep The Narth, you will need the strength of the de Lohr war machine behind that stance. The history of warfare between de Lohr and the Welsh warlords is well established, and Nether, and my family, have always managed to keep peace. I cannot go to Ivor and ask him for peace but not offer to return his castle.”

Henry knew that very well but was still unwilling to return something the English now held. He eyed Kent stubbornly before turning away, hunting for his most comfortable chair.

“White Castle, Grossmont Castle, and Monmouth Castle already belong to me,” he said. Then he shrugged. “I suppose they really belong to de Lohr, but de Lohr serves me. Having The Narth would close a large gap that exists between my southern castles and my northern holdings.”

“Then ask the Earl of Hereford and Worcester to attend this negotiation, your grace,” Kent said again, more firmly. “I am the son of an earl, after all. I am not a powerful marcher lord. It would mean more coming from de Lohr.”

Henry sat heavily in a cushioned leather chair, grunting as he tried to get comfortable. He set his cup down on the table next to the chair, lifting his feet onto a small footstool. Kent watched the man closely, hoping he would see his point, because the last thing Kent wanted to do was confront a man he’d not seen in many years and tell him he wasn’t going to have his castle returned to him.

“Torran?” Henry finally said. “What say you to all of this?”

Kent turned his attention to Torran, who had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, listening to the entire conversation. When he saw Kent’s gaze upon him, shadowed with concern, he lifted a hand discreetly as if to ease the man.

“I say that Kent has a good point,” he said. “He is not a diplomat. He is one of the finest knights I have ever served with and his judgment is impeccable, and someday he shall make an astonishingly good Earl of Talgarth, like his father, but he is correct when he says de Lohr should handle this. The man is in a better position to do so. But I also suggest he wait until we can remove de Russe, because if we do not, that might damage his alliance with de Russe.”

Henry pondered the advice. “Very well,” he said. “Kent, you will be going to Wales. I will send you with a thousand royal troops and several knights because, should this situation burst forth like sparks on kindling, you will need the reinforcements. More than that, I want my army to replace de Russe at The Narth. I will send you with a royal decree demanding Gaspard de Russe vacate the castle, so, hopefully, he will not put up a fight.”

“And if he does, your grace?”

Henry turned to look at both Kent and Torran then. “If he does, you use any means necessary to get him out,” he growled. “And then you bring him and his idiot son to London to face my good judgment. Is that understood?”

Kent and Torran nodded. “It is, your grace,” Torran said.

“Excellent,” Henry said. “Torran, leave Aidric, Britt, and Dirk here with me, but take Jareth. I also want you to take a few royal knights that have been serving in various capacities for me around England. In fact, one of them—Bennet de Bermingham—was a garrison commander at Chepstow Castle long ago, serving the Marshal family. He should be a great help on the area and the politics.”

Torran’s brow furrowed. “De Bermingham,” he repeated slowly. “Why do I know that name?”

“Because the man was caught in a scandal at Chepstow, and when Roger Bigod inherited the castle from the Marshal family, he didn’t want de Bermingham around,” Henry said. “Something about compromising a Welshwoman, as I recall. Her father was a local magistrate, a man of importance, but de Lohr assured me that de Bermingham is not the kind of man as was suggested of him. Therefore, I took him into my service because no one else on the border wanted to deal with the rumors that followed him around. I sent him to Richmond, to other places, as a simple knight. He’s very good at what he does. The rumors died down, eventually. But not entirely. Some people remember.”

Torran was nodding because he now recalled that he had heard something about de Bermingham long ago. “Isn’t he the son of an earl, your grace?”

“Aye,” Henry said. “The Earl of Louth.”

“Irish?”

“Very much so,” he said. “But I like the man. In any case, you will take him with you. You will also take Stefan de Lohr. And another.”

“Who?”

Henry simply looked at Torran, who had no idea why the man was staring at him so until it finally dawned on him. Quickly, he nodded his head.

“I understand, your grace,” he said. “You want Payton-Forrester with us.”

Henry shrugged. “He must be evaluated for my service,” he said. “What better circumstance than to have him working closely in a situation such as this?”

“Whom are we speaking of?” Kent asked. “What knight is this?”

Torran looked at him. “The one I told you about earlier,” he said quietly. “The mysterious one.”

Kent understood. “I see,” he said, not entirely thrilled. “A knight who has fought for de Montfort must now be allowed into our inner ranks?”

He said it in front of Henry, which was essentially challenging the man’s decision, but Henry didn’t take it personally. He knew that his Guard of Six was extremely protective of him, but they also knew that Henry tended to take on men with pasts and secrets, something he would then hold over them. Only a little. Henry viewed it as insurance, men he would bail out of trouble or keep secrets for in exchange for their loyalty.

That meant Payton-Forrester had a secret.

Yet perhaps his secret in serving de Montfort had already been revealed.

… but perhaps not.

“It is not as bad as all that, Kent,” Henry said, leaning back in his chair and getting comfortable. “Orion Payton-Forrester comes from a fine family. Very fine. They are the lords of Beverley Castle in the north, one of the finest armies I have against the Scots. Orion’s father, William, has been fighting them for decades alongside other notable castles like Northwood and Questing.”

“Warenton and Teviot, your grace?”

Henry nodded. “William Payton-Forrester is a good friend of the Earl of Warenton, William de Wolfe, and the Earls of Teviot at Northwood Castle. Their association goes back many, many years and they are my triple defense on the Scots border. They were all quite close, but about thirty years ago, Payton-Forrester had a falling-out with the Lords of Teviot. A long time. In any case, they still remain allies, but relations are strained. Orion is one of Payton-Forrester’s younger sons, but by all accounts, his most talented. So talented that he came to serve me at a young age.”

Kent couldn’t understand why the king didn’t seem more concerned about a knight who had served Simon de Montfort being in the inner circle. “I was told that you gifted him to your sister, the Countess of Leicester, your grace,” he said. “The man served Simon de Montfort.”

“He did.”

“In battle.”

Henry nodded. “Again, he did,” he said. “He was at every major battle.”

“He fought against us, yet you want him to join your personal guard?”

Henry looked at him. “You do not trust my judgment?”

Kent backed down. “Your judgment is beyond contestation, your grace,” he said. “But the men we have within the Six are men we all trust completely. With our very lives.”

Torran took over at that point because they had touched on a delicate subject. “Kent’s concern is valid, your grace,” he said. “I had the same concern, and I told you so. But you assured me that Payton-Forrester’s service to de Montfort was only because he was sworn to Eleanor, not because he believed in de Montfort’s cause.”

Henry nodded. “That is true,” he said. “He sent me several missives asking to return to royal service during his time with my sister.”

“Return as a spy,” Kent muttered.

“What did you say, Kent?” Henry said.

Kent took a deep breath, clearing his throat as he realized he’d been caught voicing his concerns. “I said that, mayhap, he would return as a spy, your grace,” he said, louder. “Forgive me, but I shall not trust him completely until I come to know him. And I believe that goes for Torran as well. Our position in your court is dedicated to serving you and ensuring you live a long and healthy life.”

“And?”

“And if I do not deem this man worthy of my trust, I will resign my post before I serve alongside him,” Kent said without hesitation. “I will not knowingly, and willfully, jeopardize your life by serving alongside someone who could just as easily slit my throat and yours.”

Instead of growing angry at what could be perceived as a rebuke against the king’s wishes, Henry smiled weakly. “You are a fearsome protector, Kent,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “And your concerns are understood. But I have a reason for wanting Payton-Forrester to serve me.”

“What is that, your grace?”

There were a few servants in the chamber, as there usually were when the king was around. They catered to his every whim. But he chased them out, insisting they shut the door behind them. When they were gone and it was only him and Torran and Kent in the chamber, he motioned the knights closer.

“Allow me to explain my position before you think I am a complete fool,” he said quietly. “It is a king’s duty to pay attention to his more powerful warlords. In this case, I speak of the Northerners.”

He was referring to the warlords in the north, in Northumberland and Cumbria, men who had traditionally been somewhat separate from the rest of England because of the special needs and politics of the Scots border. They were a very powerful group, as Henry’s father, King John, had experienced for himself. John had habitually butted heads with the Northerners during his reign because they were not in support of the king and his policies. Henry had a somewhat easier time with them, but they still tended to live in their own world at times and rule their earldoms and fiefdoms like little kings.

Kent and Torran understood that.

“Indeed, your grace,” Torran muttered. “Having Payton-Forrester’s son in your ranks keeps you allied to his father and hopefully his father’s allegiance.”

Henry nodded, but it was faint, as if he wasn’t sure that was the true reason. “There is more to it,” he said. He hesitated before continuing. “I know a secret about Orion Payton-Forrester.”

Torran’s brow furrowed. “May I ask what the secret is, your grace?”

Henry drew in a long, deep breath. It was a sound of satisfaction, as if he were in possession of something quite earth shattering.

“I have spies in the north at all of the major houses with the exception of Warenton’s fortress,” he said. “I had two at Castle Questing, but William discovered them and put them on a boat to Bergen because he has allies in the Northmen who will keep those spies and use them as slaves. He thinks I do not know what he’s done, but I do. In any case, the point is that I have spies everywhere and have it on good authority from Beverley Castle that Orion is not his father’s son.”

That didn’t clear anything up. Torran and Kent passed puzzled glances. “He is a bastard, your grace?” Torran said.

Henry nodded. “The result of an affair between Payton-Forrester’s sister and a knight with the Earl of Teviot,” he said. “Evidently, the sister was unmarried and died in childbirth with Orion, so William and his wife decided to raise the boy as their own.”

Kent didn’t think that sounded much like a deep, dark secret. “Surely people would know that he was not their natural son, your grace,” he said. “They would know that Payton-Forrester’s wife was not pregnant if an infant suddenly appeared. They would know it was not their natural child.”

“You would think so,” Henry said. “But the sister was sent away to a convent during her confinement, where the child was born. After her death, Lady Payton-Forrester also went away for several months—and when she returned, it was with the infant. William Payton-Forrester told everyone his wife had given birth in Scotland.”

The story made a little more sense of how a birth could be passed off from one woman to another. “So they claimed the lad as their own,” Kent said. “But why the secrecy?”

Henry shrugged. “To preserve the sister’s reputation, I would suspect,” he said. “And also because the true father does not know he has a son.”

Torran could see that this little tale was leading somewhere. “And you want to keep Payton-Forrester’s secret?” he said. “Why? More importantly, how does this help you with the Northerners?”

Henry looked between his two knights. “Because the father of Orion, I am told, is none other than the captain of Northwood Castle’s army, Paris de Norville,” he said. “The falling-out I told you about between Beverley and Northwood? It is because of Orion, only Orion does not know that Paris is his father and Paris does not know that he has a bastard son. That is my secret to keep, because if either one of them found out, I suspect an all-out war in the north between Beverley and Northwood might erupt. And I need my warlords focused on the Scots, not each other.”

Now, the situation was making a great deal of sense. Torran and Kent were starting to catch on. “But why would a war erupt after all these years, your grace?” Kent said. “Surely sufficient time has passed that it is not as critical as it once was.”

Henry looked at him. “If Paris de Norville finds out that Payton-Forrester has kept a son from him, the man will be furious,” he said. “More than that, do not forget that de Norville and de Wolfe are the closest of friends and allies. If Paris goes to war, then de Wolfe will. Payton-Forrester will find himself fending off two major houses, and he cannot do it. Not Northwood and Questing, both.”

Torran was clearly pondering the ramifications. “And that is why he’s not told de Norville?” he said. “To keep the peace?”

Henry shrugged. “I am certain that’s what it is,” he said. “That and the fact that if he tells the man, it will all come out that the sister was compromised, and I go back to my assertion that Payton-Forrester wishes to keep his sister’s reputation intact.”

It was a tricky situation, to be sure, but it was also clear what Henry was doing by wanting the bastard knight near. “Then by keeping Orion Payton-Forrester close, you can also keep abreast of anything happening in the north between Beverley and Northwood,” Torran said. “But why now? What makes this point in time more important than the rest of Orion’s life?”

Henry grunted. “Because I’ve heard rumor through the commander at Bamburgh Castle that Paris de Norville is soliciting suitors for a granddaughter,” he said. “He has evidently sent word to Beverley, in an effort to heal the rift in their relationship, that he would be interested in Orion for his granddaughter. Clearly, that cannot happen.”

Torran shook his head in disbelief. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “What if Payton-Forrester denies him and tells him why? That could start this battle you are so concerned with.”

Henry took a long drink of his wine, draining the cup. “That is why I want to keep Orion close,” he said, smacking his lips as he set his cup down. “I want to know what happens with this potential betrothal, but more than that, if William Payton-Forrester decides to tell Paris de Norville of Orion’s true parentage, I want to know that as well. It is an extremely volatile situation.”

That was an understatement. It made Henry’s support of bringing Orion into the royal inner circle quite plain, but in a strange way, it also made Torran and Kent trust the knight just a little. But only a little. Kent finally ran his fingers through his dark hair, digesting the situation surrounding a man he hadn’t even met yet.

“It seems that Orion Payton-Forrester has led a most eventful life,” he said. “Whether or not the man knows about his true parentage, there is a tempest surrounding him.”

Henry began looking around for more wine. “You speak the truth,” he said. “I only tell you this so you understand why I want Payton-Forrester in our ranks, so you do not think I have become mad in my old age. It is true that he came into my service as a young knight and he was quite skilled. It is true that I sent him to Scotland with Margaret, but what happened there was not his fault. It is also true that I sent him to Eleanor to get him out of Scotland, and we all know what happened after that. Now, he has come back to the royal fold and I intend to keep him here. Are we in agreement?”

Torran and Kent nodded seriously. “We are, your grace,” Torran said.

“Good,” Henry said. “Now, we must return to the subject at hand and the situation at The Narth. Kent, form the army you will take with you. Torran, gather and prepare the knights. I want everyone moving to the Welsh marches by the end of the week.”

The knights facing him nodded. “Aye, your grace,” Torran said. “We will be ready.”

Henry nodded and dismissed them. As the knights headed out, Henry found more wine and poured it into his cup, but his mind was elsewhere. He had enough trouble on the Welsh marches without worrying about northern warlords going to war against one another over a bastard that was born more than thirty years ago. Still, it was a possibility.

When love or sex was concerned, anything was possible.

Time would tell if the north would explode before the Welsh did.

God help them all.