Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

T he big knight was standing on the landing.

Andia was in her chamber, back in the place that had given her the most comfort throughout her life, but this time, it was markedly different. Aeron was in his chamber across the landing and she could hear him shouting insults to the knight standing outside.

Terrible insults.

She wondered how long the knight was going to take it.

Oh, if she could only get over to Aeron's chamber, she'd not only twist his ear, but sew his mouth shut as well.

You are a shag-haired varlet!

Knight? Do you hear me? You are an onion-breath cock!

That one had Andia slapping a hand on her forehead in dismay, terrified that the knight was going to kick Aeron's door down and cut his tongue out. She huddled against her door, listening to Aeron's tantrum, and he was becoming particularly creative with his insults.

You are a mumbling, measle-face dog!

Did they boil your brains at birth? Is that why you are so stupid?

Andia was beside herself. Aeron was more than a handful at the best of times, thanks to her father's lack of discipline on his only son, but this went beyond what she thought Aeron was capable of. The lad was staring death in the face and, still, he was harassing the enemy. At seven years of age, he had no restraint at all because any restraint she'd tried to put on him had been met with resistance from her father.

Now, that lack of discipline might have terrible consequences.

You! You, there! You are a soulless, deformed ninny-head!

That had Andia yanking open her door.

The knight, taller than a tree, was standing right at the head of the landing, looking down the stairwell. He had his back to her and didn't turn around when she opened the door. In fact, he simply stood there, staring. His lack of awareness concerned Andia, but her concern for her brother took precedence. Quietly, she scooted across the landing and opened her brother's door just as he was shouting out another insult.

"You, knight, are a hag-born whelp!"

"Silence!" Andia hissed at him. "One more word and I will put a gag in your mouth!"

Aeron, ever ready to fight, weakly lashed out a foot at her as he balled his fists. "Try it," he said. "I'll not make it easy!"

Andia rolled her eyes as her brother proceeded to throw punches and kick at an unseen enemy. He moved around the chamber, kicking and punching the air, as she watched with frustration.

"Aeron, cease this instant," she said. "Do you not understand the position we find ourselves in? The army who captured Kennington has killed our army. Papa is dead. We are the last ones left and if you keep this up, they could very well kill us, too!"

Aeron paused in his punch-and-kick fest. "They would not dare," he said. "I am the Earl of Ashford. They must obey my commands."

"They are not your men," Andia said. "Only your own men must obey you. These men were sent by the king and they only listen to the king, but if you upset them enough, they will run you through. Do you understand me?"

"I can fight."

"With what?" Andia asked, cocking an eyebrow. "What do you have to fight with? Did you see the broadswords those men were carrying? One more insult and they will slice you in half."

Aeron sneered at her. "You are trying to scare me."

"I am telling you the truth."

He shook his head. "Andie, I am the earl now," he said. "I will fight for Kennington and you should not stop me."

"Kennington has fallen, Aeron. There is nothing left to fight for."

He frowned deeply. "You take that back!"

"It is true."

"I am going to fight you for saying that!"

He rushed her, which he'd done in the past, and Andia simply stepped aside as he charged so that he ran right into the wall. He hit his knuckles on the stone, which infuriated him, and he ran at her again only for Andia to trip him. Once he was down, she kept kicking him in the arse or in the arms to keep him down when he tried to push himself up.

"Stop that!" he commanded. "You cannot say such things about Kennington. It's mine!"

"It belongs to Henry now."

That caused him to kick at her even though he was on the ground. Andia's patience was gone, and she grabbed a sash from where it had been haphazardly tossed on the bed, a sash used to secure clothing, and immediately put it over Aeron's mouth. He was muffled but not completely silent as she proceeded to push him onto his stomach, securing the sash behind his head as she used her legs to pin his arms and torso down. He managed to get a hand free, trying to slap at her, but she grabbed it and tied it up with one end of the sash, lashing it to the other hand.

Soon enough, Andia had her brother trussed up, but the sash had slipped away from his mouth and he was screaming murder. He was angry that she had subdued him, but she'd done it before and knew his weaknesses. He was in the process of calling her a hag, a cow, and anything else he could think of, when she grabbed his straw-colored hair and yanked.

That subdued him quickly.

"Listen to me," she hissed. "Stop all of this foolish posturing, for it will not help you against a knight three times your size. Do you know what it feels like to have a sword shoved into your belly? It will be pain such as you have never known. You will wish for a quick death, but it will not come. You will bleed on the ground and grow weaker and weaker. They might even cut you open and pull your guts out, all while you are alive, and they will laugh at your pain. Keep your mouth shut, Aeron, and you will live longer. If you do not, you will not live to see your destiny as the Earl of Ashford. Do you understand me?"

"That was quite an explicit description."

The voice came from the doorway. Andia gasped, startled, as she turned to see a very broad man standing in the opening. In fact, he had shoulders that were almost as wide as the door, supporting enormous arms and a thick neck. But his face… The moment she looked into his blue eyes, she felt a jolt. Something ran through her, like a tremor. He had a square jaw, dimpled chin, and a scar on the right side of his face. He also had dark hair, cut short, but she could see the wave to it—perhaps ordinary hair on anyone else, but on him, it framed that extraordinary face and she was having a difficult time getting past that.

But she had to.

The man was her enemy.

"Who are you?" she asked warily.

The knight scratched his ear before speaking. "I serve Henry," he said. "I am addressing Anselm St. Albans' daughter?"

She nodded once. "Aye," she said. "I am Andia. This is my brother, Aeron."

The knight's bright gaze lingered on her for a moment before shifting over to the boy on the floor, now sitting up.

"Lord Ashford," he greeted the boy.

Aeron's face lit up. "You see, Andie?" he crowed. "He does know me! He will obey me!"

Andia hissed at him. "Hush," she said. "Keep silent!"

Aeron frowned. "I will not," he said. Then he twisted violently, trying to slip free of the ties that bound him. "Knight, remove these restraints. Take them off!"

The knight didn't move. He remained in the doorway, watching the child twist around on the floor like a fish out of water.

"Alas, I cannot," he said. Then he looked at Andia. "Why did you bind him?"

Andia took a deep, frustrated breath. "Because he was trying to fight me," she said. "He was being naughty and rude, so I bound his wrists. Unfortunately, sometimes it must be done until he calms himself."

Torran's gaze moved back to the boy. "It is unseemly to fight a woman, my lord," he said. "Being that she is your sister, that makes it worse. That is shameful behavior."

Aeron didn't care. He was still flopping around, trying to free himself. "Free me!" he demanded. "Free me or I will punish you!"

Andia rolled her eyes in horror. "He did not mean it, my lord," she said. "He would not move against you."

"I would!" Aeron insisted. "I am a killer of enemy knights!"

Terrified at what was about to come out of his mouth, Andia put herself between her brother and the enormous warrior. "He is young and foolish," she insisted. "He is simply angry."

"Angry?" Aeron spat, finally managing to free one of his hands. "I am not angry. I am speaking the truth!"

Andia turned to him. "Aeron, please ," she said. "Not now. This is not the time."

Unfortunately, Aeron was young. He didn't understand the gravity of the situation, nor his sister's cues as she tried to defuse whatever he was building. All he knew was what he wanted, at that moment, and nothing else. Danger never entered his mind. Ignoring his sister's pleas, he focused on the knight who stood just a few feet away.

"If you do not obey me, I will punish you," he said.

The knight almost seemed amused. "I am certain you will try."

"You do not believe me?" Aeron said, incensed. "I will drop a cauldron on your head, too!"

There it was.

Those terrible words that Andia had been trying to prevent.

She'd had a feeling that was where Aeron was going with his wildly reckless conversation, and now he'd said it. The very thing he shouldn't have said, to an enemy who probably knew the man they'd dumped the pot on.

They were fighting on the same side, after all.

Men died in battle all of the time, but usually, they were hit by random bolts or fighting men they didn't know. There wasn't a name or a face associated with those who did the killing, and that was what Andia had been trying to prevent, because now that Aeron had revealed that he, indeed, had been one of the killers, that gave a face to the enemy. Someone to blame for the rebellion and damage.

Horrified, she closed her eyes tightly, praying that admission didn't get them both killed. She had participated in it, too, after all, and she was terrified that Aeron's boast might just be his last.

She could see it in the knight's face.

God help us!

Any hint of compassion or neutrality in the knight's expression vanished. Before Andia could plead for her brother's life, he moved around her and grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck. As he lifted him up, heading for the door, Andia threw herself at the knight and latched on to his right arm.

" Nay! " she cried. "Nay, he did not mean it! Please do not kill him!"

The knight had Aeron pinned with his left arm, holding the boy against his torso so his arms were trapped, while he dragged Andia toward the door. She was holding on to him with a death grip, begging for her brother's life, but the warrior wasn't listening. As he got to the door, the knight who had been guarding the landing was suddenly there, having heard the commotion.

"Remove her from me," the knight struggling with Aeron commanded. "Lock her in her chamber and do not let her out."

The knight who had been guarding the landing took hold of Andia, who refused to let go of the first knight as he hauled the kicking, screaming boy out of the chamber. Between the two of them, they were creating quite a ruckus until the knight guarding the landing managed to break Andia's hold—and nearly broke her hand in the process. As she cried out, holding her stinging hand, he picked her up and carried her back to her chamber. As Henry's knight headed down the stairs with Aeron in his grip, he heard Andia's door slam.

He could also hear her screaming.

But Torran didn't care.

Nay, he didn't care at all.

In a shocking twist, he had the culprit who had murdered Yancey. He wasn't going to allow himself to be swayed by the lady's lovely sister, and she was indeed quite lovely. Beautiful, even. But Torran wasn't a sucker for a pretty face, so he was able to push her out of his mind and focus on the task at hand.

And he had one.

A big one.

Once he came down the stairs with Aeron, Torran headed for what looked like a solar off the entry. He could see a table and chairs, and the clutter that was usually associated with a solar and the business of the castle. In he went, slamming the door behind him before finally letting Aeron go. The boy was twisting and fighting so much that he ended up throwing himself on the ground once he was released. As the child came up and opened his mouth to yell, Torran grabbed his face with one hand and used his thumb to essentially prop the boy's mouth open. He couldn't close his mouth and he couldn't speak, and Torran's grip on his face was uncomfortable but not painful. But the look in Torran's eyes implied the situation could become much, much worse if Aeron didn't behave.

And neither one of them was sure he would.

Especially Torran. He'd seen enough of the boy, in the brief few moments that he'd known him, to tell him that Aeron was a spoiled lad who lacked respect for anyone or anything. To think of a child like that murdering Yancey ate at Torran. In his mind, Yancey should have had the dignity of a worthy opponent, and this child was no worthy opponent. He had been given an opportunity to kill and he'd taken it. Nothing more. Torran was quite sure that the lad had no grasp of the finality or the severity of what he'd done.

None whatsoever.

It was appalling, really. Appalling and ironic and infuriating. Yancey deserved so much better in death, but instead, death had come to him by the hand of a child. A child that Torran was now looking at, seeing fear and defiance in his eyes. Nay, the lad had no idea what he had done. In his mind, he was simply defending his property, as hundreds of his men were, so this was nothing more to him than a fight to save what was his.

But the castle was no longer his.

Henry's Six and the royal army had prevailed.

That was, perhaps, the only thing that kept Torran from truly punishing the child. He was able to keep his rage at bay by telling himself that, ultimately, Yancey's death contributed to a victory and that was an honorable death for any man.

But it was still a struggle for composure.

"I want you to listen to me," Torran finally said. "Are you listening?"

Aeron tried to say something but the position of Torran's thumb prevented it.

"A nod is sufficient," Torran said.

Aeron's response was to struggle against him, so Torran began to squeeze. When Aeron realized that, and the fact that it was starting to hurt, he seemed to lose some of his fight. He yelled.

Torran stopped squeezing.

"Do I have your attention now?" he asked, his tone low and threatening.

Aeron was proud. Foolish and proud. But not so foolish that the little hint of pain Torran had given him hadn't produced a sense of self-preservation that he didn't usually have. He'd gone through life doing what he pleased, when he pleased, and hadn't learned to deal with a man who was standing up to him. But Torran was. And it was clear that he could hurt him if he wanted to.

That brought about a change in attitude.

When the boy stopped fighting, glaring at him balefully, Torran loosened his grip, but not completely.

"Good," he said. "Now, you and I are going to have a conversation. I am going to ask the questions and you are going to give the answers. Is that clear?"

Mercifully, Aeron nodded. "Aye," he said, mumbling because Torran's thumb was still on his jaw.

"Very well," Torran said. "I am going to let you go, but if you kick, curse, fight, or scream, then I am going to tie you up and throw you on the fire. Do you understand me?"

Aeron muttered something else, an affirmative of some kind, and Torran watched him for a moment to see if he really meant it before releasing the lad's face. Even as he did it, he wanted to grab it again. He wanted to punish this terrible boy. There were so many emotions swirling in Torran's chest that it was difficult for him to single out just one. Rage, grief, despair, anger… All of them were moving like a maelstrom. Being edgy by nature, he knew what he was capable of should the boy further enrage him. What was it Aidric had said?

Not many will admire a king who punishes the children of an enemy.

And not many would respect a knight who did, either.

Therefore, he proceeded with restraint.

"You spoke of dropping a pot on a knight's head," he said. "Tell me what you did. Tell me everything so I may hear it from your point of view."

Aeron was rubbing his face where the knight had squeezed. "He burned my gate," he said. "He was coming in and I killed him."

"Where did you find the pot?"

"Andie found it," he said, no longer entirely angry and defiant because Torran had genuinely struck some fear into him. "Only the soldiers had weapons and most of them were gone or dead, so she said we should swing it at anyone who tried to mount the walls, but I said we should fill it with rocks and drop it on someone's head."

"And you did."

He nodded solemnly. "I put dirt and rocks in it and dropped it on a knight's head when he came through the gatehouse."

"Did your sister help you?"

"She had to because it was too heavy for me to lift."

So there it was, in simple terms. But it also shed new light on the subject. The children of Lord Ashford found themselves on the battlements of the inner wall because, as the child had said, most of the soldiers were either dead or gone. The children were fighting a losing battle and, without any other weapons, found a pot to use any way they could. He could accept that.

Almost .

But it had been Yancey who paid their price.

"Did you aim for him?" he asked. "Or were you aiming for the first man who came through the gate, no matter who it was?"

Aeron thought on that. "The first man through the gate is the man who is trying to take my castle," he said. "He would kill me if he could, so I had to kill him first."

Torran digested that. In doing so, he averted his gaze but ended up looking over the solar. It was a rich solar, no doubt, but things were scattered on the floor, on the table. It was in disarray. It looked as if a tempest had swept through the chamber, leaving everything upended. No doubt, Lord Ashford had been here during the battle and certainly before it, perhaps contemplating the approaching army and what he was about to lose. Perhaps speaking to his young son, telling him to defend the castle to the death. Torran could see all of it as if he'd been there to witness it.

The boy had done what his father had instructed him to do.

He could feel himself calming.

Sort of.

"What happened to your father?" he finally asked, his gaze still on the chamber.

He hadn't been in the hall when Daniel had asked the very same question, so he didn't know what had become of Lord Ashford.

"He took an arrow in his neck," Aeron said.

Torran looked at him then. "Where was he when this happened?"

The boy gestured toward the window and the ruined castle outside. "On the wall," he said. "The arrow went straight through his neck and he died."

"And that left you and your sister defending the castle."

Aeron nodded. "Some of the soldiers ran after Papa died," he said. "Some remained to help. But I swore to my father that I would kill the enemy and I did. My father believed he should help govern England, and as long as I live, I will do what my father wanted me to do. He wants me to kill the enemy and I did. I would do it again!"

He sounded like a frightened little boy, but also like a spoiled little boy. Torran let his gaze linger on the lad, sensing that the child would be a problem when he grew older. He would remain in opposition to the king purely based on his father's beliefs unless someone changed his mind. But Torran didn't have the patience or the inclination to try to change the boy's mind in a polite, reasonable way. He suspected that wouldn't have worked anyway. Aeron was a lad who had been raised a certain way and probably saw a man with reason as a man with weakness. Torran had known the Earl of Ashford, distantly, and knew he was a hard man with a hard soul. He was raising his son the same way.

Henry would probably throw the boy in the Tower and keep him there.

But not before Torran sought to change his mind in a way the boy could understand.

"Mayhap you did kill a man, but he was a man worthier than you'll ever be," he said, unable to keep his mouth shut because a surge of grief washed over him. "Your father was worthless and you are too. Now a worthless earl with a worthless title and a worthless castle. From this day forward, young Ashford, you are a worthless man."

Aeron's face turned red. "You cannot say that to me."

"I can and I will."

"I told you that I will kill you, too, and I will!"

"I would not say that if I were you."

"Why not? You cannot stop me!"

As fast as lightning, Torran's hand shot out and he grabbed Aeron by the arm, yanking the boy over to him. Aeron began to fight and yell again, but Torran had something in mind that would stop all of that.

Something Aeron would understand.

He had to be punished for Yancey's death, after all.

Torran threw the lad over his knee and began to spank him within an inch of his life. He was a big man with a big hand, and Aeron began to yell. He kicked and tried to twist away, but Torran held him firm. Ten full blows to his buttocks with an open palm and Aeron's shouts of anger and threat began to turn into wails of pain. The spanking bloody well hurt, but that was what Torran had intended.

He swore he could hear Yancey laughing.

After giving the boy a total of twelve sharp spanks, he finally released the child, who tumbled onto the floor in a flood of tears. Tears of pain, of shock, and of humiliation. Finally, spoiled Aeron got what was coming to him, and Torran leaned over the boy as he sat on the floor and wept.

"Remember this moment," he hissed. "I could have done to you what you did to the knight with your pot full of rocks, but I showed you mercy. Remember that mercy and behave yourself. Your father is no longer here to protect you, Aeron St. Albans. You are living in Henry's world, by his good graces, and bad behavior will not be tolerated. You have been warned."

With that, he pulled Aeron up by an arm and returned him to his panic-stricken sister. Torran's last vision of the pair before he shut them up in the sister's chamber was of a grateful embrace, both of them weeping, both of them thankful to be alive.

Time would tell if the warning would be heeded.