Page 14 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

M yles had been on duty constantly since Brac’s passing.

Though he rode with Viscount Winterton on the second raid to retake the Dartford Crossing Bridge, he’d spent the majority of his time patrolling the walls of Rochester and trying to keep an eye on Charles.

With Brac’s passing, Myles would assume what responsibility he could.

He owed it to Brac, and to Cantia, to do so.

Now, he was taking a much deserved rest in the knight’s quarters.

All of Viscount Winterton’s men had temporary quarters here, and he knew them all from the past years of battle.

He knew and liked Simon Horley; the man was fierce, bold and, strangely, thoughtful.

John Swantey was also a reputable man that he was comfortable with.

Dagan Sutton and Gavril de Reigate were latecomers to the viscount’s corps, having been gifted to the viscount from the Earl of Norfolk for services in battle.

They were a quiet pair and he did not know much about them, but he had seen that they were courageous fighters.

Myles sat at the table in the small gathering room of the knight’s quarters, contemplating the last of his wine and thinking he should probably try to get some sleep.

But he seriously wondered if he should check on Lady Penden and her son first. Though the lady’s outward grief had not reached the fevered pitch that Charles’ had, still, he could see how devastated she was.

Myles knew very well that Cantia and Brac had been fond of each other.

As he contemplated his thoughts, the door to the knight’s quarters flew open and Charles stomped in.

Myles looked up to see that the man was in a serious degree of madness, mumbling to himself and looking around the room as he was searching for something.

It seemed that he didn’t even see Myles until the knight spoke .

“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”

Charles froze, looking at Myles as if startled to see him. Then he marched straight to him and slammed his hands on the table.

“A weapon,” he growled. “I need a weapon.”

Myles did not like the sound of the request. “Why?”

Charles threw up his arms. “Must everyone disobey me at my own house?” he cried. “Give me your weapon, de Lohr. Give it to me now.”

Myles broadsword was lying on his bed in the next room, thankfully. Myles set his wine down and stood up.

“I am sworn to you, my lord,” he said steadily. “If there is any defending to be done, I will do it in your stead.”

Charles grabbed him as if to shake him, but Myles was too big a man to shake. “I do not defend anything. I will kill him.”

“Kill who?”

Charles’ expression was beyond madness. It was obsession and impulse, blended into an elixir of pure psychosis. “The viscount. He has shamed me. He has killed my son. He must pay.”

Now it was Myles’ turn to grab Charles. “You speak treason, my lord,” he said quietly, firmly.

“I will hear no more of this. Should the viscount catch wind of what you have said, it would mean great danger for you and possibly your family. You must keep yourself in check, my lord, or all will be lost. Do you understand me?”

Charles’ lips curled back in a sneer that just as quickly faded. “I understand that he has invaded my home. Rochester is no longer mine.”

“Rochester will always belong to the stewards,” Myles assured him, praying that the man would get a grip on himself. “Get some sleep, my lord. You’ve not slept for days and your exhaustion is weighing heavily. Come to the next room and…”

Charles yanked away from Myles, pacing sloppily across the floor. “She did this,” he muttered. “That foolish wench has caused this. She sides with him, you know.”

“Who? ”

“The viscount,” Charles insisted. “She sides with him. He protects her. They are going to take Rochester away from me. Well, that will not happen. It cannot. I forbid it!”

He suddenly bolted from the room before Myles could catch him. He stood in the doorway, watching Charles lose himself in the bustle of the ward. He could only shake his head. So much for the idea of sleep.

Myles went in search of Tevin.

*

The September day was cool and rainy. Clouds had moved in off the sea and a steady rain had pounded the land since late morning.

Cantia was in the solar with Val, feeling obligated to give special attention to the sister of her liege.

After the meal that the injured lady so delicately ate, for even swallowing seemed to be painful, Cantia had the fire stoked and proceeded to warm some water to wash the lady with.

Val didn’t protest as Cantia ran a warm, wet cloth over her one good shoulder and one good arm, and then moved to clean the dirt off her face.

Val really was a pretty woman, even prettier without all of the grime associated with battle.

Cantia said little as she bathed her patient and made every effort to insure the woman’s comfort.

Val had been watching her closely, however, thinking that she had never before seen such a lovely woman.

She could understand her brother’s fascination with her.

At some point, Hunt entered the solar with the ever-present dog on his heels.

Hunt was used to coming and going as he pleased, for his father never admonished him for anything.

Brac had always been unusually lenient with the child and though Hunt wasn’t spoiled, he was bold.

He walked right up to Val as Cantia tightened the bandages that braced her bad shoulder.

His big blue eyes focused on the lady knight. “You are not a real knight,” he said flatly.

Cantia looked at her son with displeasure. “Hunt, you are rude to address the lady so,” she admonished firmly. “Please apologize. ”

But Val grinned, waving off the motherly scolding. “Nay, my lady, he is quite right,” she said. “I am not a man and, therefore, not a real knight. But I fight as one anyway.”

“Why?” Hunt asked innocently.

“Because that is my calling.”

Hunt cocked his head. “You are called? Called what?”

Val’s grin broadened. “I simply mean that this is what I do. I was born to do it.”

“But…” his little nose scrunched in confusion. “How can you fight if you are not a real knight?”

“Enough,” Cantia turned her son around and faced him towards the door. “Take George outside and play with him. Throw him the balls. He likes that.”

Hunt dug his heels in. “But I’m hungry!”

“Then go to the kitchen,” she slapped him lightly on the buttocks. “Cook will give you something to eat. Go now and leave me in peace.”

Hunt did as he was told, but not before he walked a wide circle around the room, touching everything within his reach, all the while watching his mother finish tending the lady knight.

Only when Cantia shot him a threatening look did he leave the room completely.

When he was gone, she dared meet Val’s amused gaze.

“I must apologize for my son’s behavior,” she said. “He is, unfortunately, quite stubborn and not quick to obey.”

Val merely grinned. “He is still very young. But that will change when you send him to foster. He’ll have to obey swiftly or risk a beating.”

Cantia’s delicate fingers froze for a moment, then resumed tightening the bandage. Val glanced at the woman, noting that her expression seemed distressed. She wrongly guessed at the trouble.

“Do not worry, Lady Penden,” she said. “He will learn to obey. Have you selected his foster house yet?”

When Cantia looked at her, Val swore she saw tears. But Cantia quickly lowered her gaze, refocusing on the wrappings. “Nay,” her voice was strangely tight. “He… he is still too young to foster.”

“Not necessarily,” Val said. “My brother was about Hunt’s age when he left for Kenilworth Castle to foster.

Our father arranged for that when he was born.

Tevin was gone for many years… I did not truly even come to know my brother until his return as a fully-fledged knight. He was eighteen years of age.”

Cantia’s head came up again. “He was gone for thirteen years?”

“Aye.”

Cantia left the bandages. Head hung, she went back over to the table and collected the things she had brought with her– more bandages, a bowl, a small knife to cut the cloth with.

She piled them all in the bowl and moved for the door.

But as she left, Val heard the distinct sound of stifled sobs.

They only grew louder when the woman quit the room and thought she could no longer be heard.

Val called out to her, twice, but the lady apparently did not hear her.

When Tevin entered the solar a short time later, he got an earful.

*

“My sister is afraid that she has upset you.”

Cantia was sitting at the well-scrubbed table in the great hall, alone up until Tevin walked into the room.

He walked towards the table, slowly, his massive body moving with grace and ease.

Cantia watched his approach, hoping there were no tears left on her cheeks but not wanting to be obvious by checking.

“She did not, my lord,” she said, eyes downcast. “I simply… that is to say, I am…”

Tevin plopped his enormous body on the tabletop right next to her. His right thigh was next to her arm and she instinctively pulled away. When she looked up, it was into glittering dark eyes.

“This evasiveness simply will not do,” he said flatly.

“If you are upset, I would very much prefer you told me so that it is out in the open. You have been most kind and accommodating to us and I will not see you distressed over things that I would do all in my power to right. What did my sister do that upset you so?”

Cantia shook her head, struggling for courage. She even smiled, weak though it might be. “Any number of things can upset me these days, my lord. It matters not. I am a silly woman.”

“You are not,” his voice grew softer. “You have a great many things on your mind, and rightfully so. What was it my sister said that sent you from the room in tears?”