Page 21 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“R oi! Curt! I’m going inside to find Papa!”

Having just come in through the gatehouse of Massington, Myles was already off his horse, already heading for the keep. The de Lohr army, as much as they could muster in a short amount of time, had arrived, and in one day and one full night, three thousand de Lohr soldiers, ten wagons, a variety of archers on horseback, and three heavily armed knights made the journey to Massington Castle because the Countess of Hereford and Worcester had asked them to.

The Earl of Leominster, the Earl of Cheltenham, and Lord Monnington had arrived.

All they knew was that Westley was missing. Given the last time they’d seen their brother, and the fact that their father had told them not to come to Massington for the wedding for fear it would only antagonize Westley, they had been confused by Dustin’s missive.

Westley is missing. Summon the army and come with all due haste to Massington .

But the confusion hadn’t lasted. They knew that Dustin wouldn’t have asked for the army if Westley had simply run away. The tone of the missive, and the messenger who delivered it, intimated there was foul play involved, and that had the men at Lioncross scrambling.

Now that they were here, they were desperate to know what had happened.

Which was why Myles was walking very quickly toward the keep. As he was heading there, a knight in partial protection was heading in the same direction. They looked at one another and the man smiled politely.

“My lord?” he said. “You are with the House of de Lohr?”

Myles came to a halt, nodding. “I am,” he said. “My mother has summoned us. Do you know where I may find her?”

The man pointed to the keep. “I was just heading in there myself,” he said. “I have been summoned by my lord. I am Olan de Bisby. I serve Lord Ledbury.”

“Myles de Lohr.”

Olan nodded in greeting. “A pleasure, my lord,” he said. But his features sobered. “I am very sorry about your brother. We have been looking everywhere for him.”

Myles nodded, acknowledging the effort, then pointed at the keep. “Are my parents inside?”

“As far as I know,” Olan said, quickly moving toward the keep and gesturing for Myles to follow. “Come inside, my lord. I did not mean to delay you.”

“You did not,” Myles said. “We just arrived. My brothers should be right behind me.”

Olan took him up the stairs and into the keep. The heavy entry door creaked back on its hinges, admitting Myles into a two-storied entry chamber that smelled heavily of dust and smoke. To his left was a chamber off the entry, and he could hear voices.

He recognized one of them.

“Papa?” he said, charging into the chamber because he knew his father was in there. “We are here. What has happened?”

Christopher was in the process of heavily watering down Marius’ wine. The man wanted desperately to drink, and the only way Christopher would let him was if the wine was cut with boiled water. He’d sent for it from the kitchen but it had arrived hot, as they always had a supply of simmering water on hand for washing and other things, so Christopher was cutting the wine with hot water, making it hot wine. Myles coming through the door saw him spill some of the water on to the floor in surprise.

“Myles,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “You have come.”

Myles went up to his father, putting his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Of course I have come,” he said. “Mama sent for us, so we are here. Brought half the damn army with us. What in the hell happened with Westley?”

Given Olan was in the chamber, too, it was all Christopher could do not to charge the man or, at the very least, point accusing fingers at him in front of Myles. Instead, he grasped for words.

“Gone,” he finally said. “Who came with you?”

“Curtis and Roi,” Myles said. “Sherry remained at Lioncross with Adam, but he sent Andrew, Gabriel, and Nicholas.”

Andrew, Gabriel, and Nicholas were Christin and Alexander’s eldest sons. Adam was another older son, a very capable commander much in the vein of his father. But Christopher felt a good deal of relief already knowing that his grandsons, fully fledged and very capable knights, had come.

“Who else?” he asked.

“Curtis brought Chris,” Myles said. “You know he has only seen eighteen years, but he has already been knighted. Curtis wanted him with us. Arthur is with him, too.”

Christopher nodded, accepting the fact that Curtis had brought his two eldest sons with him, mature young men and excellent warriors, even if they were only eighteen and seventeen years, respectively.

“They’ll be of help,” he said. “Where is Douglas?”

“He had already gone home by the time we received Mama’s missive,” Myles said. “We’ve sent word to Axminster for him to return. I do not know how long it will take.”

“What about Brie’s sons?”

“Max is in the north with his father, as you know,” Myles said. “But I’ve brought Rhodes with me. He’s so much like Jax, Papa. Truly astonishing to watch him bellow orders to the army. It’s like watching Ajax de Velt all over again.”

Christopher smiled faintly, greatly relieved that he had so many sons and grandsons to help him hunt for Westley. But the idea that help had arrived somehow weakened him, giving him enough comfort that he felt he could let go, just a little. He wasn’t going to have to do this on his own.

But he was still highly aware of Olan in the chamber.

Now, things were going to get interesting.

“Please bring Andrew and Gabriel and Nicholas inside,” he said quietly. “Rhodes, too. I have need of them.”

Myles nodded, looking at his father strangely. “And the rest of us?”

“Leave Chris and Arthur with the army,” Christopher said. “But the rest of you… I have a task for you.”

Myles didn’t press him. His father looked horribly pale and drawn, and it seemed that even that short conversation had taxed him, which was concerning. But he moved swiftly to do his father’s bidding. As he headed out of the chamber, Christopher turned to Olan, who was still standing politely near the hearth. He was unarmed, but there were plenty of iron implements for the hearth within reach, and Christopher didn’t want to give the man the ability to arm himself if he knew the tides were about to turn against him. That meant Christopher had to put the man at ease until he was ready to make his move. Crooking a finger, he motioned Olan to him.

Olan came promptly, looking eagerly at Christopher, waiting for an order.

“You have been here since the death of Emory,” Christopher said in a low voice.

Olan nodded quickly. “I have, my lord.”

Christopher eyed Marius as the man sucked down the watered wine. “Have you ever had any reason to keep Marius sober in all that time?”

Olan couldn’t help but look at Marius too. “Not really, my lord,” he said. “Why?”

“Because I need help keeping him sober,” Christopher said. “Beyond watering his wine, what would you suggest?”

Christopher hoped that he was putting the man at ease so he wouldn’t be suspicious when six burly de Lohr men entered the chamber. His intention was to have Roi and Myles interrogate Olan, and the others would just be muscle. Myles, in particular, was good at such things because he was an Executioner Knight, an agent for the Crown, and he’d been trained in such unsavory tactics.

And Christopher wanted answers. Meanwhile, he was keeping Olan busy as the knight thought on Christopher’s question.

“I know that, in the past, Lady Ledbury has cut the wine with fruit juice,” he said. “I also know that she has had the cook boil the wine to remove what makes a man drunk. She’ll cut his wine with the thicker wine that has been boiled, and that has helped.”

Before Christopher could reply, voices began to fill the entry. Myles and his nephews were starting to filter back into the keep, entering the solar. Christopher could see his two older sons, Curtis and Roi, entering as well.

So much for keeping Olan occupied.

It was time to strike.

“Thank you, Olan,” he said evenly. “Please wait here.”

Olan did as he was told. He was standing in a corner of the chamber where there were no weapons or implements. Not even a window to jump out of. He stood there, watching attentively, as Christopher went over to Curtis and Roi and hugged them. His grandsons also put their arms around him, hugging their grandfather. It was clear that there was a good deal of love and camaraderie among the de Lohr men. When Christopher was finished greeting everyone, he spoke to the crowd.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his forehead wearily, “you have come at your mother’s summons because Westley is missing and we need help looking for him. Since the missive was sent to you, however, we have discovered what has become of him.”

Everyone looked at him in surprise. Everyone except Marius, who was trying to drain watered wine out of a cup. He was beyond caring. But Curtis put his hand on his father’s arm, his expression full of confusion.

“You have?” he said. “Then he really has disappeared?”

Christopher nodded. “He is being held hostage by Samson Fitz Walter of Hell’s Forge Castle,” Christopher said. “Hell’s Forge is to the north, almost a day’s ride. Andrew, Nicholas, Gabriel, and Rhodes? Will you do something for me?”

The four well-built young knights came forward. “Whatever you wish, Taid,” Andrew said, using the name they’d always called Christopher, the Welsh name for grandfather. “How may we be of service?”

Christopher looked across the chamber to Olan and pointed. “Restrain that man,” he said.

The four grandsons didn’t hesitate. Suddenly, they were charging across the chamber and Olan barely had time to hold up his hands to defend himself before they grabbed him. He decided he should probably fight back at that point, but it was a short struggle. Rhodes de Velt, in particular, was built like a bull and got him around the neck, bending his arm behind his back so he couldn’t move, while the others restrained other body parts. Unable to move, Olan began to panic.

“Why have you done this, my lord?” he cried. “What have I done?”

Christopher walked up to him and looked him in the eye. Then, in a shocking move, he slapped him across the face, open-palmed, as hard as he could. It was a loud, nasty crack that sent Olan’s head sideways. Blood from a cut lip and his nose sprayed out onto Andrew, who was on his right side.

“Does that shake your memory loose?” Christopher snarled. “That is for letting Westley fall into Fitz Walter’s hands.”

Olan’s face was pale with shock. “My… my lord,” he stammered. “I would never… I would never do such a thing!”

Christopher didn’t have time for his lies. “Then explain to me how you left Massington with Westley but returned without him,” he said. “In the middle of the night, no less. Before you try to deny this, know that you were seen coming and going. Well? What lies are you going to tell me now?”

Olan’s features slackened. He had a wide-eyed, panicked expression, but realizing what Christopher knew had caught him off guard. He was in a room full of lions, and the expression on his face suggested he knew that he was about to be eaten.

“Who has told you such things, my lord?” he said. “One of the soldiers? Would you truly believe a lowly soldier?”

Christopher wasn’t going to engage him. He turned to the group of knights standing behind him.

“Myles?” he said. “Attend me.”

Myles was at his father’s side immediately. “My lord?” he responded formally.

Christopher’s baleful gaze lingered on Olan for a moment longer before he turned to Myles. He leaned toward the man and lowered his voice.

“Find out what he did with your brother,” he said. “And make it hurt if you must. Your brother may already be dead for all we know, so make sure Olan feels our anguish.”

Myles understood the assignment. “As you wish, my lord,” he said, a gleam in his eye. “I will discover everything.”

As Myles went over to Olan, who had a look of terror on his face, Christopher went to close the solar door. He didn’t want anyone hearing the sounds that were about to come from Olan, but he also didn’t need to be there. He’d been present for hundreds of interrogations over the years, and in this case, he simply didn’t want to hear it. If Olan knew that Westley was dead, Christopher didn’t want it screamed out at him. He would rather have the news delivered by Curtis or Roi, calmly, to him and his wife when everything was over.

He just couldn’t bear to stick around.

Therefore, he quit the solar, closing the door behind him. With great effort, as he was greatly fatigued and fighting a horrible headache, he made his way up the stairs, up to the chamber he shared with Dustin. She was still there, napping on the bed because she, too, hadn’t slept in two days. He was loath to wake her, but she had to know her sons had arrived.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, rubbing her arm gently until she came around. “Wake up, love.”

Dustin yawned and rubbed an eye. “What is it?”

Christopher sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots. “The de Lohr army has arrived,” he said quietly. “Curtis, Chris, Arthur, Roi, Andrew, Gabriel, Nicholas, Rhodes, and Myles are here. They are interrogating Olan as we speak.”

Dustin sat up. “They are?” she said, more alert now. She tossed the coverlet off. “I must go to them.”

He put a hand out to stop her. “Nay, you will not,” he said. “I do not want to be part of that, and neither do you. They will tell us what they discover once it is over. But trust me when I tell you—this is not something you want to witness.”

Dustin didn’t look particularly convinced, but she didn’t argue with him. “Very well,” she said reluctantly. “What do we do now? Simply wait?

“Simply wait. And rest.”

Dustin wasn’t sure she could go back to sleep, knowing her sons were here. “As you wish,” she said. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

He sighed heavily. “Weary.”

“Are you hungry?” she said, pointing to the parcel on the table. “I brought you some lovely stuffed eggs, but they are cold now. I can have the cook warm them up.”

He peered over at the basket she was indicating, the one she’d brought in when she told him what Harker had told her and they’d both forgotten about the food. He held out a hand, and she got out of bed, collecting a couple of the eggs, and put them in his palm. He stuffed both of them in his mouth, grunting happily because they were delicious. Dustin stood there and shook her head.

“You are going to choke someday the way you eat those things,” she said. “You really should be more careful.”

He shrugged, chewing happily. “It would be a delight to die with my mouth stuffed with eggs.”

“It would be embarrassing.”

He tried not to laugh and spray egg out all over the bed. He chewed a few more times before swallowing. “Those are delicious,” he said. “They are better than yours.”

She gasped in outrage. “How can you say such things?”

“It’s true.”

“I will never, ever make stuffed eggs for you again.”

“You won’t need to. I am going to hire Marius’ cook.”

Feigning insult, Dustin grumbled as she climbed back into bed. “Ungrateful,” she muttered. “Get your own stuffed eggs next time.”

He lay down on the bed, grabbed her, and pulled her to him. “You know I am only jesting with you,” he said. “I could not live without you or your stuffed eggs.”

She was stiff in his embrace. “Do not try to speak sweetly to me now,” she said. “It will not work.”

He pulled her closer, nibbling on her cheek. “Is it working now?”

She struggled not to laugh. “Nay,” she said, putting a hand over his mouth. “Be still and go to sleep. You are positively exhausted. I would wager that your head is still hurting, too.”

He stopped nibbling and settled down, closing his eyes. His head was, indeed, throbbing. It had eased up a little when Esther sent him the wine and willow drink, but that was short-lived. The pain was back again.

He just wanted to sleep it off, if only for a short time.

“I will sleep,” he mumbled. “Sleep with me. It might be the last bit of sleep we get before the heavens open up and chaos descends.”

Dustin snuggled up against him. “Just for a little while,” she said. “Then we must find Westley.”

Christopher thought of his youngest son. Visions of the man came to mind, the way Westley defied him, the way he hugged him, the way he laughed when Christopher was annoyed. He hadn’t really allowed himself to feel genuine fear until this moment, knowing that Fitz Walter wanted an eye for an eye at the very least.

A son for an uncle.

And that scared him to death.

“The night West was born was the most terrifying night of my life,” he muttered. “You did not have an easy time with him.”

Dustin could hear his heart beating steadily in her ear as his words took her back all those years to that moment in time. “My first son and my last son were the most difficult births for me,” she said. “It took Curtis two days to come and it took Westley two and a half. And when he finally came, he was backward. His arm was behind his back, too. He was a mess.”

“ I was a mess,” Christopher said softly. “Every other child you gave birth to seemed to come easily except Curtis and Westley. But they came and they thrived. I’ve always felt that because their births were so difficult, it was because they were meant to be here. They were meant to accomplish something great.”

“There is time still,” Dustin said. Then she sat up and looked at him. “I know you have been entertaining the idea that Westley is already dead, but I am telling you that he is not. I would know if my son was dead. I would feel it. But I do not feel it. He is alive and he is waiting for help.”

Christopher popped an eye open to look at her. “And we will give it to him,” he said, reaching up to cup her face. “Your missive to Lioncross called down the thunder, and it has arrived on our doorstep. It is down below us even now, discovering what has become of their brother. The thunder is here, sweetheart. Along with thunder comes lightning, and soon West will be back safely.”

Dustin nodded, lying back down again. “Have you even spoken with Elysande?” she said. “About what we’ve discovered, I mean. Have you told her about Fitz Walter?”

“Nay,” Christopher said. “A conversation for another time. She was so distraught at Westley leaving, I think she thought he abandoned her.”

“Then I will tell her when we go back down the stairs,” Dustin mumbled, feeling her fatigue. “I do not want her thinking Westley ran away and left her.”

Christopher’s arms tightened around her as they both fell into a deep, restful sleep. Dustin did, anyway.

But Christopher’s sleep turned out to be the stuff nightmares are made of.