Page 8 of Insurrection (Guard of Six #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I t is surprising what one can discover from a buxom wench with a few coins.”

In the great entry hall of The Narth’s keep, Torran watched Stefan as the man itched and pulled at the Welsh tunic he was wearing.

“What is the matter with you?” he said loudly.

Stefan finally pulled the tunic off and tossed it aside. But then he pulled his padded tunic off as well, leaving him bare-chested.

“That clothing has vermin,” he said with disgust, scratching his arms. “It wasn’t infested when I went into the village. It must have come from that damnable tavern.”

“What tavern?”

Stefan couldn’t stop scratching. “The one at the northern end of the village,” he said. “There is a wooden panel over the door with a moth burned into it. At least, I believe it is a moth. I think it was advertising for vermin to come and feast off the patrons.”

“But you were able to discover something?”

Stefan nodded and finally stopped itching. “Aye,” he said. “A serving wench there, the daughter of the man who owns the establishment, was able to tell me more than I’d hoped for, but I had to promise to return tomorrow and see her again.”

Before Torran could continue the conversation, the entry door suddenly lurched open and everyone turned to see Kent enter. He closed the door behind him, removing his cloak as he approached the group at the far end of the entry hall.

“Kent,” Stefan acknowledged the man, waving him over. “You’ve come at the right time. I was just about to tell Torran what I was able to discover.”

“Good,” Kent said, tossing the cloak onto the nearest table. But he noticed Stefan’s state of half dress and gestured to him. “Why are you without apparel?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “Because I spent time in a tavern that had vermin, and they got into my clothing,” he said. “They are probably in my breeches, too, but those will stay on for the time being. Were you able to discover anything?”

Kent nodded. “I was,” he said. Then he looked at Torran. “It seems I have become a spy, after all. I met a young woman, daughter of the town apothecary, and she thought I was Welsh. I could not pass up the opportunity to be one, since she seemed willing to speak freely to a Welsh traveler. I think this will be an excellent opportunity for me to infiltrate the village a little. The more information we can get on Ivor and his men, the better.”

“Your Welsh must be excellent,” Treyton said. He’d been sitting near the hearth, listening. “Do not forget that Clearwell is near the marches as well. I learned the language, though I evidently do not speak it like a native. You must.”

Kent shrugged. “My paternal grandmother is Welsh,” he said. “I’ve been speaking it since I was a child. Treyton, do you know a man called The Bryn?”

Treyton immediately nodded. “Aye,” he said. “I know of him. He practically rules the village.”

“What else do you know of him?”

Treyton stood up and went for the pitcher of stale wine that was on the table and had been since last night. “I know he is feared and respected,” he said. “One of the kitchen servants grew up in the village, and one night, after much ale, she told me about him.”

“What about him?”

Treyton drank out of the spout of the pitcher before speaking. “He’s a prince,” he said. “I know there seem to be a good many princes in Wales, but in his case, his royal line seems to be true. That was also confirmed by another servant, a man who takes care of the horses and did not wish to leave when the rebels fled. He confirmed The Bryn’s background independently when I was kind enough not to kill him in exchange for his telling me everything he knew about the rebels and the villagers.”

“What did he tell you about The Bryn?”

Treyton cocked his head thoughtfully. “That he is the brother of Maredudd ap Rhys, one of the last princes of Gwyneth, a man who still rules a portion of Deheubarth,” he said. “Why he makes his home in this little village, I do not know, but clearly he rules the village. The stable servant said that he was a regular visitor to The Narth and gave counsel to ap Yestin.”

“I think I can answer that,” Stefan said, entering the conversation. “The serving wench at the vermin farm told me a little.”

Kent looked at him strangely. “Vermin farm?”

Stefan scratched his arm unhappily. “Where I picked up the latest friends in my clothing.”

Kent chuckled. “Understood,” he said. “Continue.”

Stefan did. “The girl, named Canella, said that she’d heard that The Bryn fell in love with an Englishwoman from the marches,” he said. “His family disowned him and he settled into his life as an apothecary, assuming a quiet life away from his family. He married the Englishwoman and had two daughters, though his wife died when the youngest daughter was quite small.”

“The Bryn married an Englishwoman?” Bennet blurted. The usually quiet knight was quiet no longer. When everyone turned to look at him, it was clear he hadn’t meant to speak. “My apologies. I simply meant… Welsh princes do not usually marry Englishwomen unless they are princesses themselves. Forgive me for interrupting.”

Stefan had only heard a few words of that explanation, but it didn’t matter. He continued with what he had been saying. “The Bryn was an advisor to Ivor ap Yestin,” he said. “What Treyton said was true—he was evidently at The Narth quite often, and Ivor was fond of his youngest daughter. There are rumors that he was to marry her before all of this happened.”

Kent wasn’t sure why he felt disappointment at that statement. That beautiful woman that he’d had that conversation with was spoken for? She’d never mentioned it, but then again, the subject really hadn’t come up. Perhaps he should have brought it up, just to keep her talking, because he could have listened to her voice forever. It was sweet and soft and almost childlike in a way, but it was also very intriguing.

As was the rest of her.

He thought back to the moment he first laid eyes upon her. She had cascades of blonde hair, slightly curly, and eyes the color of a cat’s-eye stone. A pale brown that was beautiful and enchanting. She had an upturned nose and big dimples when she smiled, something he found utterly charming. In fact, there was nothing about her that wasn’t exquisite, from head to toe. For a man who had essentially given up on women, all women, the fact that he was attracted to her was both surprising and unwelcome.

He was too old to entertain a romance.

… wasn’t he?

“It sounds to me like The Bryn is someone to know,” Torran said. “Kent? What do you think? Somehow get to know the man?”

Jolted from his train of thought, Kent nodded. “I think it would be wise,” he said. “I’ve already told the daughter that I am one of Ivor’s men and that I am in Penderyn to deliver a message to Ivor, only to find him gone. That is all she knows.”

“Then that is what you tell her father,” Torran said. “But if he is close with Ivor, he will not recognize you. Meaning he will not have seen you at The Narth before.”

Kent shrugged. “I can simply tell him I am one of Ivor’s scouts,” he said. “My task is to watch the English and report back to him.”

Torran waggled his eyebrows. “Then let us hope he believes you.”

“I will do my best.”

“And find out who attacked my sister,” Treyton said, not to be left out. “That is why I am here, why we are all here. Because ap Yestin’s men attacked my sister. Mayhap The Bryn knows who did it.”

Torran looked at him. “Did you ever ask the man yourself or try to find out?”

Treyton shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Our time in town was rather violent, spent trying to find more of the possessions that were stolen from my sister. I doubt The Bryn would tell me anything at all because of it.”

That made sense. Torran turned his attention back to Kent. “You heard the man,” he said. “See if you can discover what The Bryn knows about the perpetrators.”

Kent nodded. “I will,” he said. “You can depend on it.”

That seemed to satisfy Treyton a great deal. In fact, Torran let his focus linger on the man a little, simply to make sure there was nothing else he wanted for the wrong done to his sister, before turning back to the group.

“I think that is all we can do tonight,” he said quietly. “De Russe, I will be putting my men on the walls alongside yours. Have you told them we intend to assume our roles here?”

Treyton nodded. “I did,” he said. “I told them when we pulled the de Russe standard down and raised Henry’s.”

“Good,” Torran said. “Since there are two armies here, essentially, communication and coordination will be paramount. You will remain in command of your men, Treyton, but I will assume overall command along with Kent and Bennet. Jareth, you will deal with communications. Any communique will come through you. Your first order of business will be to send word to de Lohr on the situation here, but tell him not to come—yet. With good fortune, we may not need him at all.”

Jareth nodded. “I shall,” he said. “I require use of the solar of this place if I am to do such work.”

Treyton pointed to a small room toward the front, near the entry. “That is a chamber that seems to have been used as an administrative center,” he said. “There are books and writing implements and the like.”

“It is my chamber now,” Jareth said.

As he moved toward the room to get a better look at it, Torran continued his conversation by looking to Treyton once more.

“Will you man the gatehouse?” he said. “Keep the de Russe men up there, on guard, and I will put my men on the walls and grounds.”

Treyton nodded. “With pleasure,” he said. “There is also a small, secondary entry, a barbican over near the postern gate.”

“You will guard that as well.”

Treyton headed out, feeling as if he were still part of The Narth and not cast aside by Henry and his men. Given what they knew of the reasons behind the de Russe presence, it was clear that Torran wasn’t going to make the man vacate. At least, not at the moment. In fact, Torran and the others were watching Treyton walk away, pondering that very thing.

It was a difficult situation.

“Well done, Torran,” Kent muttered. “That man has more of a right to be here than we do.”

Torran nodded. “I know,” he said. “But I am going to have to send a missive to Henry explaining why I did not send him home. Did he send word to his father yet?”

Kent shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I’ve been gone all afternoon. But Jareth should know.”

“I will ask him,” Torran said, but his focus quickly shifted to Stefan. “You have the eyes of an eagle, lad. Go to the wall and watch. I want a report when the night watch settles in.”

Stefan was scratching his scalp. “Can I at least wash the vermin from me first?”

Torran chuckled. “I suppose that is reasonable,” he said. “But get to the wall when you are done.”

Stefan turned and departed the chamber, leaving Orion, Bennet, and Kent. Torran’s attention shifted to Orion.

“I need eyes in the village tonight,” he said. “Are you willing?”

Orion’s features lit up. “Aye, my lord.”

“Stay out of sight, make no contact with anyone,” Torran said pointedly. “You are to observe only.”

“I will, my lord.”

“Report back to me immediately if you see anything concerning or suspicious,” Torran said. “But if you do not, remain until before dawn and then return with a full report.”

Orion nodded sharply and was gone, preparing to be a spy for the night, which thrilled the adventure seeker in him. When he was gone, Torran rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Ben,” he said quietly, “you will have command of The Narth. You have some experience with big fortresses, so I would feel better if you were in charge.”

Bennet nodded. “Aye, my lord.”

“That also means the kitchens. I think we could all do with a good meal.”

“Of course, my lord.”

With that, Torran stood up from the end of the table he’d been sitting on. “And now, I’m going to see to my steed,” he said. “I sent him off with a stable servant when we arrived, but he’s a sensitive creature. I should rub him down and reassure him. Oh, Kent?”

“Aye?”

“Do not forget to send word to your father tonight,” he said. “Tell him where we are and why. He may have information on ap Yestin that will help.”

Kent grunted. “I am not entirely sure I want to write that down,” he said. “It could fall into the wrong hands. I’ll send it with a messenger, verbally.”

“Agreed,” Torran said. “How long will it take to reach Nether Castle?”

“At least two or three days.”

Kent pondered that for a moment. “Very well,” he said. “Then waste no time.”

With that, he headed out, leaving Kent and Bennet alone. Bennet, who had been seated, stood up without a word and had begun to leave when Kent stopped him.

“De Bermingham,” he said. “Wait a moment.”

Bennet paused, turning to Kent politely. “My lord?”

Kent cleared his throat softly as he approached the man. “Forgive me,” he said. “But something tells me that you know The Bryn.”

Bennet’s brow ripped with confusion. “Why would you say that?”

Kent smiled faintly. “I am many things, de Bermingham, but unobservant isn’t one of them,” he said. “I saw how you reacted when Stefan mentioned The Byrn. Given the fact that you were the garrison commander at Chepstow for several years, and it is only a day’s ride from here at the most, I think you know, or knew, The Bryn. Am I right?”

To his credit, Bennet’s features didn’t change expression. He held Kent’s gaze steadily for several long moments before taking a deep breath and nodding his head.

“Aye,” he finally said. “I knew him.”

Kent could see something in the man’s expression that suggested the association wasn’t a good one. “And hearing his name again displeases you? Why?”

Bennet seemed to falter then. No longer able to maintain his steady gaze, he turned away and returned to his seat, lowering his body wearily. When he spoke, it was low and quiet.

“I will make you a bargain, my lord,” he said. “If you tell me why Torran would not let you speak on your knowledge of Ivor ap Yestin when we arrived, I will tell you of my association with The Bryn.”

Kent should have known that what Kent saw in Bennet, Bennet had seen in Kent. The former Chepstow commander was older, experienced and seasoned, and he had realized the moment Torran had not permitted Kent to tell Treyton of his relationship with Ivor. It was a moment that Treyton clearly missed, and perhaps others, but Bennet hadn’t. Not strangely, Kent hadn’t spoken of his friendship with Ivor on the journey to Wales. It had been something Torran knew, and they’d told Jareth in private, but that was all. The fewer that knew, the better. But now Bennet was asking. Given that Kent had been prepared to tell Treyton, he didn’t have any reservations about telling Bennet.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. Like Bennet, he went to find a seat, across from the man as he faced him. “You already know that I grew up on an outpost not far from here. When I was very young, before I went to foster, I was friends with Ivor ap Yestin. He was my best friend, in fact. We used to play at the ruins of an old castle and throw rocks at one another. Whoever cried first from a rock injury was the loser and the winner would be the King of the Castle. But I’ve not seen the man since I was about six years of age, so I will be of no help when it comes to knowing his plans or why he’s done what he’s done. I am in the dark like everyone else.”

Bennet nodded in understanding. “And Torran did not want you telling Treyton this for fear the man would turn his anger on you because you were once friends with his enemy.”

Kent cocked his head. “You are intuitive,” he said. “I’m sure that’s exactly why.”

“Treyton seems very angry about his sister’s attack,” Bennet said. “God knows, he has a right to be.”

“I agree,” Kent said. He paused a moment, his gaze on the older knight. “Now, I have answered your question. You will answer mine.”

Bennet didn’t speak right away. He seemed to be contemplating how to phrase whatever it was that he seemed to be hiding. After several long moments, he met Kent’s eye.

“What I am about to tell you is something only a few people know,” he said. “I would appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself.”

“If you ask me to, I will. You have my oath.”

Bennet accepted that without reserve. “Thank you,” he said. “My situation is a bit different from yours. To begin, I do know The Bryn. I know him very well and he hates the sight of me.”

“Why?”

Bennet leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke softly. “May I ask you what you were told about me, my lord?”

Kent’s brow furrowed. “Please do not address me formally,” he said. “I think we are beyond that. I hope we are.”

Bennet seemed grateful. “As do I,” he said. “But I would like to know what you were told about me before I answer you fully.”

Kent cocked his head thoughtfully. “Henry said that you were relieved of your command at Chepstow over a scandal,” he said. “He said it had something to do with compromising a warlord’s wife.”

Bennet averted his gaze. “That is the rumor.”

“Is it true?”

“It is not.”

Kent watched the man’s lowered head. “I believe you,” he said. “But what does it have to do with The Bryn?”

“He was the one spreading the rumors.”

Kent frowned. “But why?”

Bennet sighed heavily. “I am the bastard son of the Earl of Louth,” he said. “I am, in fact, his only son. The earl treated me very well. The finest training, the finest education. In fact, I trained at the Blackchurch Guild. Have you heard of it?”

Kent’s eyebrows lifted. “Of course I have,” he said. “That is where the elite of the elite train. It is difficult to be accepted and even more difficult to finish their program. Isn’t the saying that one does not simply finish Blackchurch, one survives it?”

“I survived it,” Bennet said. “Christ, you should have seen me, Kent. You think Orion is arrogant? I could have put that lad to shame. The world was mine. I could serve any liege I wanted to. The Marshal family ended up the victors in that contest, and at twenty years and two, I was put in command of Chepstow Castle. I thought I was a god.”

Kent was smiling by the time Bennet was finished. “At that age, what knight does not believe he is a god?” he said. “And being put in command of mighty Chepstow indeed made you a demigod of sorts.”

Bennet smiled weakly. “So I thought,” he said. “I pranced around like a peacock. I’m sure some of the older knights wanted to throttle me, but I was Blackchurch trained. They would take their lives in their hands by even attempting such a thing.”

“True.”

“But even the mighty can fall,” Bennet continued. “Four years into my command, I was in the town of Chepstow because there was a smithy from Madrid who was very talented in making swords. That day in town was the day my fall began.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the woman who would take my heart.”

“Ah,” Kent said in understanding. “Who was she?”

“The Bryn’s daughter.”

Kent was puzzled. “Not the lass I met today,” he said. “She is not old enough.”

Bennet shook his head. He averted his gaze, but not before Kent could see a rather pained expression on his face. Something soft and aching, a silent testament to his buried sorrows.

“Bennet?” Kent said, gently. “What troubles you?”

Bennet’s head came up. “I knew The Bryn was married, but I did not know his wife was English,” he said hoarsely. “Oddly enough, I was never told. You see, I fell in love with Celyn, his daughter. I wanted to marry her very much, but The Bryn refused because I was English. That was the only excuse he would give. When Celyn and I agreed to run away to be wed, he discovered the plot. He also discovered that she was pregnant. That is how the rumors of the rape got started—The Bryn started them. He had to explain his daughter’s pregnancy, and I became the villain in that tale. He would not give permission for us to wed, so he had to explain the child somehow. I accepted his lies because I wanted to protect Celyn’s reputation. If the village believed I attacked her, then she would receive sympathy and understanding. But if they knew she’d fallen in love with an English knight, then her life would be ruined.”

“So you took the blame,” Kent said. Everything suddenly became clear to him, and he rolled his eyes. “Christ, Bennet, is that what happened? You loved a woman and were ruined for it?”

Bennet smiled weakly. “Better my ruin than hers,” he said. “The girl you saw today—what was her name?”

“Madelaina.”

“That is my daughter.”

Kent’s eyes widened. “ Her? ” he said. “But… but she told me her father was The Bryn.”

Bennet shrugged. “That may be what she’s been told her entire life,” he said. “She may believe it. I truthfully don’t know. I only had contact with Celyn once after the scandal erupted, and that was when she smuggled a missive to Chepstow to tell me my daughter had been born. She named her Madelaina, after my mother. I… I do not know anything more about Celyn’s life since I left, and I do not want to know, but when Henry told me to accompany the army to The Narth, I knew where the castle was located. I knew we would be at Penderyn. I honestly didn’t know if The Bryn was even still alive, or what had become of Celyn or Madelaina, but I knew I would probably find out.”

Kent was watching the man carefully. “And how do you feel about it?”

Bennet simply shook his head in a bewildered gesture. “I do not know,” he said. “I am trying not to feel, if that makes sense.”

“It does.”

“I’ve returned to the scene of the worst time in my life, a time that ruined my great career, and I’m trying very much not to feel anything at all.”

Kent genuinely felt sorry for the man. “Wales is a big land,” he said. “How ironic that you would return to the very place you did not wish to go.”

Bennet grunted unhappily. “Believe me when I tell you that the irony has not been lost on me,” he said. “But here we are. And there is nothing I can do about it.”

That was true, but something else occurred to Kent. The entire ride north, Bennet had never shown any angst or bitterness in his manner. It was true that he kept to himself for the most part, but after what Kent had just heard, he could understand that.

But nothing to belie the apprehension he must have felt.

“You never hinted at what you were returning to,” Kent said. “During the ride from London, you showed no hint through your manner or through your words. You are concealing a great and probably painful secret, yet none of us knew. I must say, I admire your restraint, Bennet. It takes a strong man to hide something so profound.”

“Blackchurch training,” Bennet quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “In any case, now you know.”

“Now I do. And your secret is safe.”

“Thank you.”

Kent couldn’t help but feel closer to the man. Bennet had kept himself in the shadows, being as unobtrusive as possible, which made the fact that he was returning to the scene of the crime that much more remarkable. Kent didn’t make friends particularly easily due to the nature of his job, and also the quirks of his brooding personality, but after this exchange he felt as if he and Bennet could indeed be friends.

He felt honored that the man should confide in him.

“You are welcome,” he said after a moment. “But I do want to say one thing about this and then I’ll say no more.”

“What is that?”

“The Bryn seems to be heavily involved with the Welsh rebels,” he said. “We will be trying to solicit his trust, and it is possible that, at some point, he might end up here at The Narth. He may even recognize you. What then?”

Bennet shook his head. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “I shall have to deal with that situation when it happens, I suppose.”

“You may have to tell Torran what you’ve told me,” Kent said. “He is the commander, after all. He has a right to know.”

“You’re probably right, I’m sure.”

Kent thought about it for a moment longer before reaching out to put a hand on the man’s shoulder. It was a moment of sympathy, of camaraderie. A moment that suggested they’d moved beyond simple acquaintance.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “This duty is going to be understandably difficult for you.”

Bennet seemed to be disbelieving of the hand on his shoulder. Perhaps because he’d spent the past twenty years living with a rumor that wasn’t true and not clarifying it so it wouldn’t damage the reputation of the woman he loved. As a result, not many men had been kind to him. That sort of sentiment was unfamiliar but, as he quickly realized, most comforting.

“I still love her, you know,” he said softly. “Celyn. I never stopped loving her. I simply try not to think about her, pushing her out of my mind, but now that we’re so close to her… it is going to be difficult to keep the mindset.”

Kent stood up, removing his hand. “I will make this offer only once, and if you decline, I will not ask you again,” he said. “Do you want me to tell you what I find out about her? If I am to infiltrate The Bryn and his family, I am going to learn things. Do you wish to know?”

That was a horrible question because there was no right answer for Bennet. After a moment, he shook his head sadly. “Of course I want to know,” he said. “But do not tell me. As long as Celyn is still young and beautiful in my mind, she still belongs to me. But the reality is that she is probably married and has been for many years. She is another man’s wife. If I knew that for certain, I could not bear it. As long as I do not know, she is still mine.”

Kent understood. “As you wish,” he said. But his gaze was on the man, perhaps with sorrow. “What you have done all these years is nothing short of heroic. Truly, Bennet. I mean that.”

Bennet shrugged and stood up beside him. “Truthfully, there was nothing else I could do,” he said. He could see the sympathy in Kent’s eyes and forced a smile. “Many men go through worse. At least I had the opportunity to experience love. Some never do.”

“I never have,” Kent said, an ironic smile on his lips. “In that respect, you are far richer than I.”

“You still have time.”

“I do not think so.”

There wasn’t much more to say after that. The two of them had made an unexpected connection this day and there was something valuable in that. Something worth respecting. Kent was about to suggest that they go about their duties when the entry door flew back on its hinges and Orion appeared. Unhappy and frustrated, he caught sight of Bennet immediately.

“Cheppy,” he said urgently, “you’d better come. The cook hardly speaks anything other than Welsh, and I do not speak that language. Come and speak with the woman or we’ll be eating mud pies tonight.”

With that, he stormed back out again, and Kent turned to Bennet, puzzled. “Cheppy?” he said. “Who is that?”

Bennet sighed heavily. “Me,” he said. “He has decided to call me Cheppy because of my command at Chepstow.”

Kent snorted in understanding. “Ah,” he said. “Well, it could be worse, I suppose.”

“Not really,” Bennet said. “I’m afraid I may have to kill that man before the night is through.”

“Does he know you’re Blackchurch trained?”

“Nay.”

Kent fought off a grin. “Tell him,” he said. “But do it when I am there to watch his expression. I want to see the fear that rolls through him. I want to see him sweat.”

Bennet looked at him for a moment before he broke down in laughter. That brought laughter from Kent also, and together, they headed out into the coming evening, prepared to take on the world.

Orion included.