Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

I t had not gone as she had hoped.

After her helping Aeron drop the only real weapon they had on the head of the knight after the inner gatehouse had been breached, the situation had not taken the direction she had intended. As the rain whipped and the wind howled, she'd found herself manhandled off the wall by enemy soldiers, listening to her brother scream and fight as they grabbed him, too. Aeron was only seven years of age, but he had fought fiercely.

If their father had been alive, he would have been proud.

But that was the problem.

Their father wasn't alive.

Now, the children of the Earl of Ashford found themselves being dragged into the great hall of Kennington, a place that was normally full of comfort and laughter, but a place that was now their prison. Around them, men were being slaughtered until there were heaps of dead bodies cluttering the inner ward. She didn't see one living Ashford soldier.

The smell of death was everywhere.

That greasy, putrid smell. She was hauled into the great hall alongside Aeron, who was kicking and biting at his captors, so much so that one of them clobbered the lad on the side of the head and he went limp. Dazed, he still tried to strike out, but Aeron ended up in a pile on the floor next to his kneeling sister.

Big knights with big swords were all around them.

"Now, lady," a big knight with an equally big sword said. "You will tell me the truth. Are you Ashford's daughter?"

Her head came up, eyes of a pale golden-brown color, fixing on the knight with the long hair tied up at the top of his head. "Who told you that?" she demanded.

The knight lifted an eyebrow at her. "I am asking the questions," he growled. "You will answer me. Are you Ashford's daughter?"

After a brief hesitation, she nodded. "Aye," she said. "I am Andia. This is my brother, Aeron."

The knight doing the questioning studied her for a moment before his gaze moved to Aeron, who was starting to come around enough that he tried to push the man behind him away. The boy evidently didn't like to be caged in. But the knight's focus returned to Andia.

"Where is your father, Lady Andia?" he asked.

Again, she hesitated, but only briefly. When she spoke, it was with resignation. "Dead," she said. "The first day of the battle, he caught an arrow in his neck."

"Where is he?"

"In the vault. We've not had the time nor the men to bury him."

The knight looked to another knight next to him. "Do you know Ashford on sight?"

The other knight, with a blond beard, nodded. "Aye."

"Then identify him. Henry will want to know."

The knight with the blond beard fled. As he did so, more men pushed into the hall, men bearing tunics of red and gold, and blue and gold, and also crimson with lions. Andia recognized the crimson tunic with the three lions.

The royal crest of Henry of England.

On her right, Aeron kicked the man behind him in the shins and the man growled, reaching down to grab Aeron by the neck. The boy began to howl, and Andia reached over, trying to pull her brother away from the man even as she calmly spoke to him.

"Please do not hurt him, I beg you," she said. "He is a child who has just lost his father. He is not himself these days."

The soldier wasn't happy. Still holding Aeron, he frowned at her before looking at the knight standing in front of them. The knight nodded, once, and the soldier immediately let the boy go. Aeron's response was to try to kick him again, but Andia grabbed him by the ear and forced his head down.

"Cease this stupidity or we all die," she hissed at him. "Stop or I will beat you myself!"

The boy stopped kicking, but his sister had him by the ear and he was wincing. Still gripping her brother's ear, Andia looked up at the knight in front of her.

"I think it is reasonable to say that we neither one of us is ourselves today," she said. "We have lost our father and our home. I am not condemning you for your actions because you did as you were ordered to do, but I beg patience from you, my lord. We were doing what we were ordered to do, too."

A big knight with graying blond hair separated himself from the group that had just entered the hall. He went to stand in front of Andia, crouching down so he would be more at her level. He was handsome, and fair, but also older than he should have been to have been actively engaged in a battle. After a moment of studying her and Aeron, he smiled faintly.

"You pinch his ear as if you have done this before, my lady," he said.

Andia nodded. "I've boxed his ears, too."

"Spoken like a true sister."

"I have had some practice."

The man's eyes crinkled with humor. "I see," he said. "My name is Daniel de Lohr. I am the Earl of Canterbury. Do you remember me?"

Andia peered at him more closely. "I believe I do recognize you," she said. "You have been to Kennington before."

"I have."

The more she looked at Canterbury, the more she realized that she did know him. Realizing the man had been a guest in her father's home undid her, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears as she looked at all of the heavily armed men standing around. Her bravery had held out only so long. She wasn't a warrior by nature, but much more delicate in her pursuits, so the entire siege had been a nightmare for her from the outset. She didn't like to fight with weapons or kill men with pots dropped on their heads. Not that she was weak, because she wasn't. Andia St. Albans had a steely grace about her.

But this was more than she could take.

The entire siege had been more than she could take.

"My father extended the hospitality of Kennington to you," she said as the tears began to come. "Yet you came to kill him?"

Daniel's smile faded. "Politics are complicated by nature, my lady," he said gently. Having daughters of his own, and a wife, he was adept at dealing with women. "You know your father has been entrenched in the fight of Leicester against Henry for quite some time. Don't you?"

Andia nodded, wiping the tears that were falling faster than she could dash them away. "Aye."

"And you know that Leicester was killed about three years ago."

She sniffled. "I know."

"And I am certain you have heard, more than likely from your father, that Henry is punishing those who opposed him."

Her lower lip was trembling and the tears were running freely. "I have heard."

"Then our appearance should be of no surprise."

Andia continued to wipe the tears. "My father wanted to have a voice in government," she said. "He did not wish to do anything evil. He simply wanted his opinion to be heard in de Montfort's Parliament. He loves this country like you do, but he does not like how it is governed. Can a man not have a say in his own country?"

Daniel clearly wasn't going to debate anything with her, but he wasn't unsympathetic. Reaching out, he pulled her hand away from Aeron's ear.

"Let go," he said softly, in a very fatherly way. "Leave your brother alone. He has had a trying day, as have you. I will have you both escorted to your chambers for the night."

Andia gazed up at him with watery eyes. "Has Kennington fallen, then?"

Daniel looked around at all of Henry's knights around him before nodding his head. "It has, my lady."

"I saw Ashford men being killed."

"That is the nature of war."

"It is the nature of war to murder?"

"It is the nature of war that men die. Death is part of war."

"Even men who have surrendered?"

Daniel merely shrugged. He hadn't given the order to kill Ashford soldiers, and it wasn't something he particularly agreed with now that the castle had surrendered, but it was done. As he'd told her, that was the nature of war. When Andia realized that he wasn't going to answer her question, she looked at the boy who was rubbing his ear.

"Does that mean Aeron will lose his legacy?" she said. "Because of my father's actions? My brother is the Earl of Ashford."

Daniel knew that. In fact, they all did. That feisty, kicking boy was the new earl in the wake of his father's death.

"That is for Henry to decide," he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. With a hand on her, he held out his other hand to Aeron. "Come along, lad. It has been a long day. It is time for food and sleep."

Aeron was still rubbing his ear where his sister had twisted it. But he didn't want anything to do with the hand Daniel was holding out to him, going so far as to jerk away when Daniel tried to grasp his arm. Given that Daniel had several grandchildren, he knew how to deal with disobedient little boys, so he grabbed him by the head, clamping down on top of it like a vise, which Aeron didn't take kindly to. He twisted and complained, trying to pull away, as Daniel took the pair to his son, Stefan, who had accompanied his father on this campaign because Daniel's eldest son and heir, Chadwick, had remained at Canterbury. The man's wife was due to give birth any day and he didn't want to miss it.

But Stefan was very capable. He was very big, like his grandfather—the great Earl of Hereford and Worcester, Christopher de Lohr—and had his grandfather's height. He stood about a head taller than his father. He looked, and fought, like any other de Lohr relation, but Stefan was harboring a secret.

He was going deaf.

His hearing had been fine as a lad, but over the years he was slowing losing it. The physics told Daniel and his wife that Stefan had been born with the condition. He was hell on the field of battle, an excellent knight among knights, but he couldn't hear the commands very well these days. It was something he had difficulty acknowledging, but Daniel didn't treat him any differently. Stefan was still the same knight he'd always been, but the loss of hearing was also doing something to his manner. He could be sullen and bitter these days.

A man about to lose a part of himself.

Daniel presented Andia and Aeron to Stefan.

"Take them to their chambers," he said. "Let no one take them from you or harass them. Lock them in and stay there until I send for you. Is that clear?"

He'd said it rather loudly for Stefan's benefit, who wasn't exactly thrilled at being the nursemaid of the pair.

"Can't someone else?" he asked.

Daniel shook his head. "I must entrust them to you," he said. "They are valuable prisoners."

Stefan didn't question his father again, though he wanted to. With an unhappy sigh, he took them both by the arm. Even Aeron, who kept trying to pull away, but Stefan was having none of it. Daniel watched Stefan escort the pair away before turning to the other men in the room.

The Guard of Six.

He found himself facing five of them.

"Where is Torran?" he asked quietly.

"He took Yancey back to de Winter," Jareth said. "He will be here soon."

Daniel shook his head with regret at the mention of Yancey. "De Mora is a big loss," he said. "Davyss depended on him a great deal. It will be difficult for him."

"He was a knight, and a foolish one that that." Torran suddenly appeared, pushing through the men still gathered in the great hall. When everyone turned to him, he remained focused on Daniel. "I stand by what I said. He was being reckless when he charged into the inner ward, so I am not surprised it cost him his life. If he were standing in front of me at this very moment, I would tell him the same thing."

Knowing that Torran and Yancey had been great friends, Daniel didn't think the comment was distasteful. In fact, he knew it was the man's grief talking. Torran was one of those men who kept everything bottled up, never speaking of his feelings, never acknowledging them. In that regard, Torran and Stefan had a good deal in common and, in fact, were good friends. They were very much alike.

But sometimes they were also too arrogant for their own good.

"Are you the one who ordered the soldiers in the inner ward killed?" Daniel asked.

Torran nodded. "Aye," he said. "I told Britt to discover who had killed Yancey. If they would not confess, they were put to the blade."

Daniel grunted in disagreement. "That was unnecessary," he said, scratching his head. "You said yourself that Yancey was being reckless."

"Someone dropped an iron cauldron full of rocks on his head."

"This is war, Torran. A man has a right to defend his property."

The great Earl of Canterbury had issued a rare rebuke. Torran wasn't pleased with the man's comment but didn't say so. He knew Daniel well and knew the man had a better moral compass than most.

That was where Torran blurred the lines at times.

With a sigh, he turned to his comrades.

"Did we discover who committed this act?" he asked.

Jareth shook his head. "Nay," he said. "We questioned every soldier we could find in the inner ward, but if they knew, they would not tell us. However, there are two left that are not soldiers."

"Servants?"

"Ashford's son and daughter," Jareth said. "They might know."

Torran started to say something, but Daniel cut him off. "Leave them alone," he said with a distinct hint of hazard in his tone. "The son is a child and the daughter is a young woman, quite upset by this siege. You will not interrogate them and you will not be cruel."

Another order that Torran wasn't fond of. "I will not be brutal," he said. "But if they know—"

"What does it matter?" Daniel said, cutting him off as he motioned to his men and headed for the door. "Yancey is dead. Crucifying a young woman and her brother will not bring him back, so your quest for vengeance is at an end. Let the dead lie, Torran. And let your bloodlust be satisfied because enough men have died this day. You do not need to add more."

It was both an admonition and a warning. Daniel came from a warring family, so he knew about bloodlust. Probably more than most. That meant he knew what he was speaking of, and Torran was quite aware of the fact. He also knew that the man was right—in all likelihood, the person or persons responsible for Yancey's death were lying outside in the inner ward, guts spilled out in the rain. Therefore, his bloodlust really should be at an end. As Daniel and his men departed the hall, Torran remained with the Six, wallowing in moody silence.

It was Kent who finally spoke quietly.

"Does he know that your orders from Henry are to return Ashford and his family to London?" he asked.

Torran nodded. "He knows," he said. Then he seemed to let his guard down for the first time since the battle started, going to the nearest table and laying his sword across the top of it. Wearily, he sat. "He knows, and his message is a warning to me not to interrogate them on the trip to London. If I do, and news of my actions get back to him, I am certain he will have words with Henry—and Henry would probably throw me in the Tower if I caused trouble between him and the House of de Lohr. They are some of his biggest supporters."

"Then we are at an end finding Yancey's killer?" Kent said.

Torran looked at the group around him, at the exhausted faces of men he knew so well. He was starting to feel some grief now that the rush of battle was over and reality was setting in. Three very hard days had brought them to this point.

Removing his helm, he set it on the table.

"We are at an end," he muttered. "I suppose Canterbury is right. It does not matter now. I will admit that I had a taste for vengeance after it happened. Every soldier in the inner ward is dead, anyone who contributed to Yancey's death, so the vengeance… it must be satisfied."

Jareth unsheathed his sword and put it on the table near Torran's. " Must be?" he said. " Should be, you mean. But is it truly?"

Torran ran his hands through his dark, damp hair. "Aye," he said with resignation. "Men die in battle every day. This was simply Yancey's time. Forgive me if, for a time, my actions suggested otherwise. I know Canterbury did not approve of my actions. But know that if it had been any one of you, I would have done the same thing."

No one contradicted him. They knew he spoke the truth, in all things. Torran was the first one to close off his feelings so it wouldn't affect his judgment like this little incident had. He'd let his emotions dictate the order to show no mercy to those who had caused Yancey's death. Now, he was reverting to his usual, stoic self.

He would simply move on.

"Will you send word to Henry that the battle is over and we have been victorious?" Aidric asked.

Torran nodded. "Truthfully, I think Canterbury or Radnor should do it," he said. "They are the ranking warlords in this fight, so it should come from them. But I will send him word that I am bringing Ashford's children to London. That will give him time to decide what to do with them."

"He risks much if he seeks to use them as an example to others who continue to support de Montfort's ideals," Aidric said. He had a low, distinct way of speaking. "Not many, including Canterbury, will admire a king who punishes the children of an enemy."

Torran nodded. "I know," he said. "So does Henry, I am certain. But I do not think he means to make an example of them as much as he simply means to imprison them as political hostages. Some of those prisoners live quite well. It is not a terrible life."

"The boy is in more danger than the sister," Jareth said quietly. "Torran, that boy is the Earl of Ashford. Henry could make the child his prisoner for the rest of his life simply to keep control over the Ashford properties and assets."

Torran thought on that before finally grunting at the irony of that statement. "There are not many assets now," he said. "I do not know what is left of the army, but it would be fair to say that it is not much. There is this castle, of course, and Ashford made his money from sheep, or so I've heard, but I've also heard the man was very rich. Where is the money?"

Instinctively, the knights looked around the hall. "Here, somewhere," Jareth said. "Surely Ashford hid it."

Torran sighed heavily before standing up, weaving on his feet. "I am certain he did," he said grasping his helm and his sword. "But let that be a problem for Henry to solve. I care not about a treasure hunt. I would like to return to return to London and get away from this battle altogether."

"We will be transporting prisoners," Dirk said. He was the quietest of the group, only speaking when he genuinely felt the need. "What do you propose we transport them in, Torran? In the back of the provisions wagon?"

Torran shrugged. "Possibly," he said. "Will you see to it, Dirk? If Kennington has a carriage, we shall use it. I would prefer to transport them in something a little more secure than an open provisions wagon."

As Dirk nodded and headed out to see about transportation for the prisoners, Torran sheathed his sword and donned his helm. "And now, good lords, it is time to assess what Kennington has become," he said. "Henry will want a firsthand account in addition to whatever Canterbury or Radnor sends him, so let us go about our business smartly. Aidric, you and Britt assess the Kennington dead and wounded. Jareth, return to Canterbury and be of service to the man. He may need your diplomacy skills. Kent, you will see to our own wounded. We will need an assessment of how many able-bodied men we have and who can make the journey back to London. As for me… I intend to speak with Radnor about returning Yancey home, but when I am finished, I will join Kent."

With their assignments given, the men headed from the hall and out into the driving rain. Torran brought up the rear of the group, adjusting his gloves, pausing before he departed the hall because he was fussing with the left glove. The lining in it had torn. Frustrated, he did the best he could with it, stepping outside and lowering his visor so the rain wasn't hitting him in the face. But as he did so, he caught sight of the keep and Canterbury's words came back to him.

The son is a child and the daughter is a young woman.

Ashford's two children. Canterbury had told him not to interrogate or harass them, but he didn't tell Torran that he couldn't speak with them. Moreover, they were his prisoners now, so he should probably introduce himself and inform them of their impending future. Given what happened to Yancey, perhaps he wasn't beyond taking some pleasure in their defeat. It wasn't exactly vengeance, but if the daughter wished to weep at the course her life had taken, he wouldn't be displeased. It might give him some satisfaction. Perhaps he simply needed to see the faces of the family that had caused the death of one of his closest.

He needed to look into their eyes.

With a lingering look at the keep, Torran finally headed in that direction.