Page 4

Blackchurch Guild

“T hey’re coming in from the east, my lord,” Creston said. “Our scouts have spotted them coming on foot and on horseback. They should be here within the hour.”

The message was grim. In the keep of Exmoor Castle, the rather large tower in the center of the Blackchurch compound, Creston and Cruz were giving their report.

The pair, along with several recruits, had been out scouting the countryside for signs of Medusa’s Disciples and found them on a small road heading west from the village of Bampton.

That was only a scant hour from Exebridge and, consequently, Blackchurch.

They were situated in the large solar belonging to St. Denis de Bottreaux, the lord and master of the Blackchurch operations.

The Earl of Exmoor, St. Denis had inherited the role and title from his father, who had inherited it from his.

The list of de Bottreaux men went back to the days of the Duke of Normandy, when a de Bottreaux ancestor was granted the title and the lands in Exmoor for his service at the Battle of Hastings.

In fact, there were two brothers, both of them young and ambitious, both of them dedicated to William of Normandy.

St. Giles de Bottreaux was the older of the two, his younger brother being St. Lyon, and it was St. Giles who distinguished himself on land while St. Lyon remained shipboard and devastated any hope of Edward the Confessor receiving any help from the sea.

No reinforcements for the battle, no assistance of any kind thanks to St. Lyon, but it was St. Giles who had received the earldom.

St. Lyon received several ships in gratitude for his service, hence the birth of Triton’s Hellions.

St. Giles went on to form the Blackchurch Guild, a guild that was now on edge because of the most recent report.

Bloody Maude really was approaching.

“How many men?” St. Denis asked. A short but powerful man, he had a head of white hair and a razor-sharp intellect. “More importantly, what power do they have if they’ve left their ships behind? That is their preferred fighting medium.”

Creston nodded. “I realize that, my lord,” he said. “But we saw at least six wagons with cannons, being pulled by teams of oxen that they have undoubtedly stolen. As for men, I would say no more than two hundred.”

St. Denis seemed startled by that answer. “ Two hundred?” he repeated. “They intend to take Blackchurch with only two hundred men? We will destroy them with our numbers alone.”

Creston didn’t seem convinced. He looked at Cruz, the Aragon knight known as The Conquistador, who almost seemed amused by St. Denis’ arrogance.

“We are speaking of Bloody Maude, my lord,” Cruz said.

“She only needs two hundred men because if they get inside our walls, they will methodically destroy every Blackchurch man they come up against. Do not think you can simply throw men at them and they will be subdued. This is not an ordinary army.”

St. Denis was back to being somewhat concerned. “Then what would you suggest?” he said. “I am not afraid of her, but I do not want her injuring or maiming our soldiers. Or us.”

As Creston and Cruz shrugged, Aamir spoke up. “Ask her what she wants,” he said simply. “We have no known conflict with Medusa’s Disciples, so what could she possibly want from us?”

“Who knows?” St. Denis said. “It could be real or imagined. Those who scavenge the seas do not need a reason to pillage.”

“That is the point,” Aamir said. “Pillaging Blackchurch would be suicide. Unless God himself comes to earth with two hundred angels to destroy Blackchurch, I would not worry. But, clearly, Bloody Maude wants something if she is coming here.”

All of the Blackchurch trainers were listening to the conversation, Payne included.

He was back against a wall, leaning against the stone with his big arms folded across his chest. He could see the concern and puzzlement and, quite frankly, the fear.

No one wanted their manhood taken as a trophy of war, but it was more than that.

Bloody Maude had a hell of a reputation as a fearsome fighter and a merciless foe.

And she was coming for Blackchurch.

Payne couldn’t believe it had come to this.

He’d spent many happy years at Blackchurch concealing a family secret that most men couldn’t have concealed for that long.

But he’d done it ably. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, either.

Not that a man’s past really mattered at Blackchurch because as long as he performed flawlessly, a man was judged on his own merits.

But now… now, something was happening that Payne had never anticipated, and he had to come clean or risk much when those close to him discovered the truth.

The moment for him to be completely transparent had come.

But, God, he was dreading it.

“I dunna believe it is as bad as all that,” he finally said, watching all eyes turn to him. “I wouldna worry so much.”

“How would you know, Payne?” Tay asked curiously from his seat near St. Denis.

How would you know?

He’d been asked a direct question. He had to answer honestly or forever risk mistrust. As Payne came away from the wall, he sighed heavily. His big shoulders slumped. He had been looking at his feet but, gradually, his gaze came up to meet St. Denis’ confused expression.

“I’ve been with ye nine years, m’laird,” he said in a low, steady voice. “Nine years of proving I’m one of the best. Would ye say that’s a fair statement?”

St. Denis didn’t hesitate. “You are one of our very best trainers,” he said. “We would be lost without you. But… oh, God, Payne… do not tell me that you plan to sacrifice yourself somehow in order to protect us.”

Payne snorted, but it was without humor.

“Nay, nothing so noble,” he said. “But I was trying tae make a point. My father is the Earl of Lismore. We have bloodlines that go back tae the Northmen, tae kings of distant shores, but also back tae Calgacus, king of the Caledonians, who tangled with the Roman overlords. I’m a direct descendant of that foolish bastard who took on the Roman army.

Therefore, I’ve got a pedigree that I’m not sure ye, or anyone, knew about.

I know I act like an irreverent fool sometimes, but that fool has breeding. ”

By the time he was finished, most of the men in the room were grinning. Even St. Denis was sitting a little taller.

“I knew your father was an earl, but I did not know the rest of it,” he said. “Your bloodlines are impressive, Payne. But what does that have to do with Bloody Maude’s approach?”

Payne took another deep breath. “Because I must I tell ye something I’ve not told anyone.”

“And what is that?”

Payne scratched at his ear hesitantly. “Ye know I’ve spoken of my mother,” he said.

“We’ve been making jokes about her for years now.

She’s become something of a legend at Blackchurch.

I tell ye that she’s eight feet tall, as strong as an ox, and can swing an axe better than any man.

I know some of ye have doubted she was real, but I assure ye, she is. ”

“I will ask again—what does that have to do with Bloody Maude?”

“That’s my mother.”

A collective gasp went up in the chamber.

More than one jaw dropped. Payne felt as if he’d just bared his soul, quite literally, by ripping open his chest and showing the entire room of men he greatly admired of the rather scandalous secret he’d kept concealed.

He couldn’t help but feel some anxiety as he looked to Tay and Sinclair and Fox, perhaps his closest friends in the group.

All he could see was their shock.

“Your mother is Bloody Maude?” Tay finally managed to say. “God’s Bones, Payne… We’ve spent years joking about your mother. Years and years. I’ve jested about writing to her and telling her what a terrible son she has raised.”

Payne nodded, hanging his head. “I know.”

“Honestly, I did not believe your mother was real!”

“She’s very real.”

As Tay reeled with the news, Fox spoke up. “You told me once that your mother could best the finest knights,” he said incredulously. “I thought you were jesting.”

Payne shook his head at his black-haired friend. “I was not jesting,” he said. “The reality is that my mother can best the finest knight.”

More hisses of surprise went around the chamber as the news sank in deeper. Creston and Cruz were over in the corner, shaking their heads and whispering, something that made Payne feel ashamed. Men he loved and trusted were whispering about him. He couldn’t feel good about that.

Sinclair, who was probably closer to him than anyone, stepped forward, moving around Tay and Fox, heading for him as he stood there, alone and vulnerable. Sinclair’s expression wasn’t full of condemnation, but rather curiosity.

“I must admit that I did not see this as a possibility,” Sinclair said.

“Christ, Payne, you become seasick if there is too much water in your bath, yet you spent an entire year at sea, to pay my debt, no less. All the while, you had the blood of a pirate in your veins. And you never spoke of it, not ever.”

Payne looked at him, shaking his head. “Nay, I dinna,” he said softly. “There was no need.”

“Did Santiago know?”

“Nay,” Payne said. “He considers Bloody Maude an enemy. And I like the man. I dinna want him tae consider me an enemy, also, so please dunna tell him.”

Sinclair understood. It was true that he’d married Santiago de Fernandez’s cousin and was therefore part of Santiago’s pirate family, so he understood more than anyone what it meant to be linked to someone with an unsavory reputation. He was truly at a loss with this stunning information.

“But why not?” he wanted to know. “Payne, surely you know we would not judge you for such a thing. Why keep such a secret?”

“Sinclair,” St. Denis snapped softly. “Quiet. I want to speak with Payne.”