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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

B ellham Place was very big.

Romney discovered this as he made his way down the master staircase, a big thing made out of stone. It was cold on his bare feet. He was supposed to be in bed but he had something he had to do. He was looking for the baron and the earl that Gart had spoken of, men that were trying to help them. He wanted to tell them something.

But Bellham was a big place with scary shadows on the walls. Romney paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking around. He spied two big rooms that were dark and spooky. There were ghosts in there, real ghosts this time. He could hear people moving around but he wasn’t sure where the sounds were coming from.

Over to his right, tucked back in a small corridor, there was a door with light emitting from around it. He thought maybe there were people there. Summoning his courage, he came off the steps and headed in that direction.

He stood outside the door, listening to the voices inside. They were considerably softer than they had been earlier and he could hear that they were male voices. Perhaps they were the men he was looking for. Timidly, he knocked on the door. He had to do it three times before someone opened the panel.

A muscular, blond man appeared. He peered into the darkness over Romney’s head, looking for an adult, but was shocked when he noticed the child standing in the doorway at his feet. His brow furrowed as he gazed down at the boy, though not unkindly.

“Greetings,” he said rather pleasantly. “Who are you?”

Romney swallowed away his nervousness. “My name is Romney de Moyon,” he said. “My… my mother and I came here this afternoon.”

A faint smile crossed David’s lips as he stood back, ushering the boy inside the room and remembering how he and his brothers had robbed him of a pence for each when he last visited Dunster.

“Master Romney,” he acknowledged. “Please come in. Do not stand out there in the darkness.”

Romney entered the room, his eyes wide with apprehension, noticing a very large man standing over by the softly glowing hearth. That man didn’t seem unkind, either. But he did look curious. Romney swallowed again, knowing he should probably speak since he had interrupted these men in conference.

“I…,” he swallowed again and almost choked. “I wanted to speak with the baron and the earl.”

Christopher came away from the hearth, his focus on the nice-looking, young man in clothes that were far too big for him.

“You have found us,” he said. “I am Christopher de Lohr and this is my brother, David. How may be we be of service, Master Romney?”

Romney’s mouth popped open as he gazed between the two big men. “Are you really the Earl of Hereford?”

Christopher nodded, his sky blue eyes twinkling in the dim light. “I am,” he replied. “How can I help you?”

“And we have already met. You and your brothers robbed me at Dunster recently if you will recall,” added David.

Romney was suddenly nervous and excited. He had never met someone so important. He began to shift around on his cold feet.

“Yes, I remember now. Gart said…,” he pointed upstairs. “He said that you were trying to help us so we would not have to go to my father.”

Christopher’s smile faded as he glanced at his brother. “We are discussing many options regarding Gart and your father, young Romney. I would not worry about it if I were you.”

Romney sensed the earl wasn’t as urgent on the matter as he was. Realizing that fed his bravery because he wanted the earl to know just how important this was to him. This was his life.

“I wanted to tell you not to send my mother and me to my father,” he said sincerely. “My father… he is very mean. He hits my mother until she cannot walk. He makes her bleed and then my brothers and I must tend her because he will not let anyone else help her. Sometimes we cannot help her very much but we try.”

All of the humor was gone from Christopher’s features. He sighed heavily and crouched down in front of the boy, seriously studying the young features. He could see nothing but truth and honesty there.

“That is very brave of you to help your mother,” he said softly. “But you must understand that your mother and father are married. No one can interfere with that, not even me.”

Romney began to feel a sense of fear, fearful that all would not be well as Gart said it would be. He had to make the man understand.

“One time, my father pushed my mother down the stairs because he was angry,” his eyes started to tear up and he wiped them away furiously with the back of his hand. “She had a baby in her belly and the baby died. I remember that my mother almost died, too, until my father let a physic come and tend her. My mother… I love my mother. She kisses us and gives us treats, and plays games with us. She takes care of us.”

Christopher gazed steadily at the boy, his heart just about breaking. The lad was struggling so hard to be brave but his fear, his tears, had the better of him. He put a big hand on the boy’s shoulder as he stood up.

“Come over here and sit down, Master Romney,” he led the boy over to the hearth where a little chair sat. It was Christina’s chair, painted pink, but Romney didn’t notice in the dim of the room. Christopher sat in the bigger chair opposite the boy, focused on his distressed young face. “It sounds as if your mother is a wonderful woman.”

Romney’s lower lip was trembling as he continued to angrily wipe away tears. “She is always afraid when my father is home,” he said. “When he goes away, she is happy again. When Gart came to stay with us, she was happy every day. Gart makes her happy. He is nice to her and buys her nice things, and she… she is not afraid any more. Gart takes care of all of us and he loves us. We love him. That is why I do not want to go back to my father. Please do not make us.”

The last sentence was spoken with a sob. The young boy lost his battle against tears and he hung his head, weeping softly. Christopher watched the lowered head a moment before lifting his gaze to his brother.

David stood a few feet away, his features taut with sympathy. He looked as if he were about to cry himself. Christopher put a gentle hand on the boy’s lowered head as he stood up and went to his brother.

“Did you send this child in here to try and convince me?” he hissed at his brother.

David rolled his eyes. “Do you truly think I would be so treacherous?”

Christopher pursed his lips irritably at his brother for a moment before looking back to the child. Romney was wiping his face and struggling to stop his tears. Christopher sighed heavily.

“Surely I cannot return the boy and his mother to Buckland now,” he whispered. “To hear of the situation from the child’s perspective is true and clear.”

Romney turned around, hearing the whispers. He focused on the two men. “My father says that the queen is his special friend,” he said, wiping at his nose. “Maybe the queen will want him so he will forget about us. Then we can be with Gart and we will be happy again.”

Christopher and David passed long glances at each other. “It is not that simple, lad,” Christopher said. “We cannot….”

Romney jumped up from the stool, interrupting him. “But my father says he only keeps my mother because she is beautiful and has given him fine sons,” he said insistently. “When he tires of her, he will kill her and find another wife. I have heard him say so!”

Christopher went to the boy, gently forcing him back down on the little chair as he sat opposite him. “Romney, I understand your concern,” he said gently. “But the fact remains that your father and mother are married. No one can destroy that marriage no matter how terrible your father is.”

Romney’s brow furrowed as he thought on that, laboring furiously for an answer to all of this. “My father will kill my mother if you take us to him. I do not want my mother to die!”

Christopher patted the boy sympathetically on the arm. “Your father is not going to kill your mother any time soon,” he assured him. “You and your mother are going to stay here as my guests for a time.”

“How long?” Romney wanted to know.

Christopher shrugged. “Until we can figure out a solution to the situation.”

Romney felt a little better, but not much. At least he knew they weren’t going to turn them over to his father tomorrow. There was still time. As he sat in brooding silence, Christopher stood up and went to the small service door in the corner of the solar. Opening it, he instructed the servant sleeping in the alcove to bring the boy some warmed milk. Closing the door softly, he went back over to his brother.

“Now what?” he demanded in a whisper. “Since I cannot return the boy and his mother to Buckland, what do you suggest?”

David puffed out his cheeks, looking thoughtful. “It would solve our problem if Buckland went to France and got himself killed fighting Isabella’s war,” he muttered, half in jest. “Gart could marry Lady de Moyon and we would not have to agonize over this any longer.”

Christopher rubbed wearily at his eyes. “Perhaps I should hire an archer myself simply to be done with it. From what you have told me, Buckland has completely lost his mind.”

David had to agree. “Who would enter my home and try to slug me in the mouth? De Moyon is an idiot.”

Christopher fought off a grin. “I would have liked to have seen you knock his teeth out.”

David looked at him with a smirk. “It was purely in self-defense, I assure you.”

“I do not believe you.”

David started snorting as he and Christopher continued their conversation about Julian and his disturbed behavior. But as they muttered in the darkness, Romney caught most of what they were saying, especially the part about killing Julian.

Although Romney was only seven years old, he was an exceptionally intelligent child. He realized in simple terms that the only way to save his mother and his family was to kill his father. He had been protecting his mother all of his life but now that he was growing older, he could protect her better. Especially from his father.

As he was lost to muddled thoughts, a servant entered through the small door next to the hearth with a big, steaming cup in his hand. Christopher pointed to the boy and the servant handed Romney the cup of warm milk. The servant disappeared as Romney sipped at the milk– it had cinnamon, nutmeg and honey in it, making it sweet and delicious. He tried to gulp it down but it was too hot, so he settled for a steady, loud sip.

At some point, Christopher and David broke from their conference and came to sit near Romney. The earl sat silently in a big oak chair while David sat behind Romney on a chair that was really two built into one, crafted from a giant piece of oak. Romney sipped loudly at his milk, watching the men as they gazed at him.

“Do you have a boy, my lord?” Romney asked Christopher.

The earl smiled at him, mostly because Romney had a huge milk ring around his upper lip. “I do,” he replied softly. “I have two daughters and a son who was born to my wife and me last year.”

Romney gulped a hot swallow. “Will he be the earl when he grows up?”

Christopher nodded. “God willing,” he said. “And I understand you have brothers and a sister, too.”

Romney nodded, gulping the last of the cup and dribbling milk onto his tunic. “My brothers are Orin and Brendt,” he told him. “My baby sister is Lacy. She likes to kiss everybody.”

Christopher’s smile grew. “Is that so?”

Finished, Romney set the cup down on the nearest table. “She loves Gart,” he told him. “She wraps her arms around his head and kisses his cheek until it is all wet. She slobbers all over him.”

Christopher bit his lip to keep from laughing, looking at David to see that the man was silently laughing as well. Neither one of them could imagine the all-powerful Gart Forbes would allow a baby to slobber all over him.

“Well,” Christopher wiped a hand over his beard in an attempt to hide the smile. “That sounds delightful.”

Romney was feeling more at ease now that he had a belly full of warm milk. “One time, she hugged his head so that he could not see. Her arms were over his eyes and when my mother tried to remove her, Gart told her to let Lacy alone. Lacy hugged his head and licked his scalp.”

David couldn’t help it. He burst out into soft laughter, quickly looking away when Romney turned around to look at him. David stood up from his chair, struggling with the mental picture of Gart and a licking baby. But it was at that moment that both brothers began to realize the extent of Gart’s devotion to Lady de Moyon and her children. An ordinary man would not have tolerated a slobbery baby that was not of his loins, but Gart had. Whatever he was feeling for the family went beyond simple lust for the mother. It went deeper than they could imagine.

Sobering, Christopher stood up also and held out a hand to Romney.

“Perhaps it is time for you to return to bed,” he told the boy. “It was an honor to meet you, Master Romney de Moyon.”

Romney took the outstretched hand and Christopher shook his little hand kindly.

“Thank you,” Romney said. “Are you really going to let my mother and me stay here for a while?”

“I really am.”

Romney’s relief was visible. He turned around and David was there, holding open the solar door as Christopher and Romney passed through it. The hall outside was dark, the entry hall beyond even darker. Romney wasn’t afraid of the ghosts with the big earl walking next to him. As they neared the dark, stone staircase, there was a knock at the front door.

Christopher wasn’t concerned because whoever it was would have had to get past the gate guards first. Trouble didn’t usually come knocking at the front door. David moved past him to answer it. He threw the big, iron bolt and pulled open the panel.

Jonas was standing in the moonlight, wrapped in his heavy traveling cloak. He looked dark and secretive, his eyes darting to the occupants of the entry hall. His expression was taut with seriousness.

“Father Jonas,” David ushered the man inside and out of the cold. “What are you doing here this time of night?”

Jonas pulled the hood off his dark, curly hair. He noticed Christopher on the stairs with a young boy. He had known the earl through his brother, having met the man on a few occasions. He acknowledged him.

“My lord,” he bowed slightly at Christopher before turning to David. “We must speak. Is Forbes here?”

David didn’t like the tone of the man. Something ominous filled him as he nodded.

“He is here.”

“Get him.” Jonas began removing his cloak as a servant suddenly appeared with a lighted taper. The priest tossed his cloak at the hovering servant as he turned back to David. “Quickly. Take me someplace private.”

David immediately took the priest back into the solar as Christopher escorted Romney up to the sleeping chambers on the second floor. He paused in front of the door where Lady de Moyon was sleeping, knowing that Gart was with her. He rapped heavily on the big oak door.

Christopher and Romney stood there a few moments, waiting, finally looking at each other as they heard movement on the opposite side of the panel. Christopher rapped again and Gart yanked the door open a few moments later.

It was clear that Gart wasn’t pleased. Standing in the open doorway, bare-chested and with only his leather breeches on, he was prepared to take someone’s head off until he saw it was the earl. Then he saw Romney and he went from angry to concerned, all in a split-second.

“Rom?” he opened the door wider, his gaze on the boy. “What is the matter? You are supposed to be in bed.”

Christopher answered before Romney could. “Father Jonas has arrived,” he told Gart. “He has asked to speak with you.”

Gart stared at Christopher a moment, his features tinted with shock as he tried to gauge, from Christopher’s expression, what was going on. There was no good reason he could think of that the priest should be here at this time of night. After a moment, he nodded obediently.

“I shall be down shortly,” he said, reaching out for the boy. “Come back to bed, Rom.”

Romney turned to Christopher, his big, blue eyes on the man. “Thank you for the milk, my lord.”

Christopher smiled faintly at the polite young lad. “You are welcome,” he replied. “I look forward to having more conversations with you, young Romney.”

Romney nodded, following Gart back into the sleeping chamber. As Christopher retraced his steps back down the staircase, Gart shut the chamber door and went in search of his tunic.

By this time, Emberley was sitting up in the bed, making sure to cover herself up to her neck so her son would not see that she was completely nude. Her eyes were wide on the child.

“Rom?” she asked. “Why were you with the earl?”

Romney continued walking towards the adjoining door that led into his sleeping chamber. “I went to talk to him.”

“What about?”

His brow furrowed. “I do not want to tell you,” he was grumpy, exhausted and emotional. “I wanted to talk to him and that is all.”

Gart found his soiled tunic and pulled it over his head. “That is not all,” he said. “You will not speak to your mother with disrespect. She has asked you a question and you will answer her.”

Romney stood by the adjoining door, frowning. “But it is my business. Why do I have to tell her everything? Maybe it is a secret.”

Gart cocked an eyebrow at the stubborn lad and opened his mouth but Emberley stopped him.

“It is all right, Gart,” she said softly, her eyes on her son. “He is growing up, as you said. If he does not want to tell me all of his business, that is his choice. But I do want to make sure he did not bother the earl. You are not in trouble, are you?”

When Romney shook his head, Gart spoke up. “You did not try to rob him, did you?”

Romney shook his head more firmly. “I do not have my sword.”

Gart grunted, finding his boots and moving to sit on the bed to pull them on. “You did not have a sword and you robbed me quite adequately.”

Romney started to make a face at him but thought better of it. “I did not rob him,” he repeated, looking to his mother. “May I go to bed now, Mama?”

Emberley nodded. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

Romney opened the adjoining door and passed into the dark room beyond, shutting the panel softly behind him. Emberley’s gaze lingered on the closed door a moment before turning to Gart.

“What do you suppose he was doing with the earl?” she asked softly.

Gart finished pulling on one boot and moved to pull on the other. “I would not know,” he replied, glancing at her over his shoulder. “But with the priest here, I would encourage you to get dressed. I am concerned as to why he has come.”

As Gart finished with his boot, Emberley crept up behind him and embraced him from behind, her head on his shoulder and her arms around his waist.

“If it is not good news, promise me that we will run,” she whispered. “We will run back to Trelystan to retrieve Orin, Brendt and Lacy, and then we will flee. I care not where we go, Gart, so long as we are together.”

He turned to face her, pulling her into his arms. “What about Rom’s inheritance?” he asked softly. “You were so concerned that the boy be given his due.”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “It is more important that we are all together,” she whispered. “I put money and power over love and happiness and I should not have. Forgive me. Promise me that if the priest does not bring good news that we will flee tonight.”

He kissed her gently, holding her tightly against him. “I swear that we will never be apart,” he whispered, kissing her ear. “If that means we must flee tonight, then so be it. I love you, Em. Madly and deeply, I do. I swear I will do what is right and necessary so that we may be together always.”

She pulled back, smiling bravely for him as he kissed her once more. Then he released her and stood up.

“Get dressed,” he told her. “Come downstairs when you are presentable.”

She gazed up at him, hesitant. “Are you certain?”

He nodded. “Aye,” he went to the door. “I want the priest to meet you. Letting him see what I am fighting for will only strengthen our case.”

She nodded reluctantly, blowing him a kiss as he quit the chamber and quietly shut the door behind him.

Tossing off the coverlets, Emberley leapt out of bed and went in search of the shift Gart had pulled off of her and the surcoats that Lady Emilie had left behind. She tried not to let fear grip her heart, but it was difficult.

If Gart was concerned for the priest’s odd-hour visit, she was positively scared to death.